her; she won't deceive me, let her try how she will. There is only one thing I bar--one thing must not be, one thing I will not tolerate--a bad marriage.' I lost my temper for a moment, but Mount Rorke did not lose his, and I soon came round. It is annoying to be spoken to in that way; but I remembered that he had not seen you, and I consoled myself by thinking of how great his conversion will be when he does. My only fear is that he'll want to marry you himself. So, you see, my own darling, my uncle is on the 'give,' and we shall win soon and easily. The only real obstacle is your father's pig-headedness on all matters in which money enters. I think with terror of his meeting with Mount Rorke. If he speaks to Mount Rorke as he spoke to me, my uncle will take up his hat and wish him good-morning. Do you exert all your influence. Do leave no stone unturned. All depends upon you.” Extract from another letter:-- “I am weary of this place, and I long to see you. My longing is such that I can resist it no longer. Besides, nothing would be gained by remaining here. Mount Rorke will not say more than he has said. In a few days--think of that--I shall be with you. With what eagerness I look forward. How gladly I shall see the train leave the dreary bogs and the blue mountains of the West and pass into the pasture lands of Meath; how gladly I shall hail the brown, slobber-faced city of Dublin; with what delight I shall step on board the packet--I shall not think of sea sickness--and watch the line of the low coast disappear, then the Welsh mountains and castles, looking so like an illustrated history of England. I must spend two days in London, alas! I must order some new clothes. Victoria Station, with all its doors and cab stands, and book-stalls, the Sussex scenery, the woodlands, the Downs, the plunging through tunnels, and then you. Darling, I cannot believe that such happiness is in store for me.” All happened as he had anticipated. At Victoria the usual difficulties had arisen about the dog. Triss was growling, the guard was cringing, and, with reference to no stoppage before we come to Redhill, the necessity of a muzzle was being argued. “I am certain it is she,” and he followed with his eyes the tall, swinging figure in the black cloth dress. Then he saw the clear plump profile, so white, of Lizzie Baker. “Here, give me the chain, I'll tie the dog up.” “But the muzzle, sir.” A muzzle was procured, and Frank ran to the third class carriage where he had seen Lizzie enter. “Lizzie! Lizzie!” “Oh, Mr. Escott, who would have thought of seeing you! It is such a time--” “Yes, isn't it; how long? But are you going to Brighton?” “Yes.” “So am I; but--let me get you a first-class ticket. Guard, have I time to change my ticket?” “No, sir, the train is going to start; get in.” “Do you get out, Lizzie; I'll pay the difference at Brighton.” “No time for changing now, sir; are you getting into this carriage?”