that hand, so sweet, so joyous, that it surely must be wrong. That was her doctrine; and Godfrey Holmes, though he hardly analysed the matter, partly understood that it was so. And yet, if once she were landed on that green island, she would be so happy. She spoke with scorn of a woman clinging to a tree like ivy; and yet, were she once married, no woman would cling to her husband with sweeter feminine tenacity than Bessy Garrow. He spoke no further word to her as he walked home, but in handing her down to the ferry-boat he pressed her hand. For a second it seemed as though she had returned this pressure. If so, the action was involuntary, and her hand instantly resumed its stiffness to his touch. It was late that night when Major Garrow went to his bed-room, but his wife was still up, waiting for him. “Well,” said she, “what has he said to you? He has been with you above an hour.” “Such stories are not very quickly told; and in this case it was necessary to understand him very accurately. At length I think I do understand him.” It is not necessary to repeat at length all that was said on that night between Major and Mrs. Garrow, as to the offer which had now for a third time been made to their daughter. On that evening, after the ladies had gone, and when the two boys had taken themselves off, Godfrey Holmes told his tale to his host, and had honestly explained to him what he believed to be the state of his daughter’s feelings. “Now you know all,” said he. “I do believe that she loves me, and if she does, perhaps she may still listen to you.” Major Garrow did not feel sure that he “knew it all.” But when he had fully discussed the matter that night with his wife, then he thought that perhaps he had arrived at that knowledge. On the following morning Bessy learned from the maid, at an early hour, that Godfrey Holmes had left Thwaite Hall and gone back to Liverpool. To the girl she said nothing on the subject, but she felt obliged to say a word or two to Bella. “It is his coming that I regret,” she said;--“that he should have had the trouble and annoyance for nothing. I acknowledge that it was my fault, and I am very sorry.” “It cannot be helped,” said Miss Holmes, somewhat gravely. “As to his misfortunes, I presume that his journeys between here and Liverpool are not the worst of them.” After breakfast on that day Bessy was summoned into her father’s book-room, and found him there, and her mother also. “Bessy,” said he, “sit down, my dear. You know why Godfrey has left us this morning?” Bessy walked round the room, so that in sitting she might be close to her mother and take her mother’s hand in her own. “I suppose I do, papa,” she said. “He was with me late last night, Bessy; and when he told me what had passed between you I agreed with him that he had better go.” “It was better that he should go, papa.” “But he has left a message for you.” “A message, papa?”