So to Mark Fenner Cambridge was what it should be—a home of intellectual effort, of happy and reposeful thought, sweetened by the companionship of chosen friends, mostly men of very moderate means like himself, to whom the Alma Mater was holding out her protecting arms. Some men of his cousin’s set made overtures to him—men whose fathers remembered his father; but Mark had the courage to decline their invitations, and to keep to the work he had set himself to do; and when the term was ended, and the lads went home, Mark’s cheeks were round and rosy, while Gilbert looked so thin and pale that his mother was alarmed lest he had been doing too much. “Very possibly, my dear,” said the rector, to whom she imparted her fears, with his sweet sad smile, “but not too much work; Gilbert is innocent of that, I am sure.” “I do not think you ever have understood the poor boy, James. He is not a book-worm, like Mark, of course, no Manners ever was; it is unfortunate for him that he does take so much after my family.” “You are the best judge of that, Elgitha; he certainly does not appear to me much to resemble any of my people. Perhaps, as far as this world is concerned, it is all the better for him.” “I don’t know why you should say that, James,” said Lady Elgitha, rather reproachfully; “surely your lot has fallen in pleasant places.” “I did not mean to complain, my dear; my fortune is much above my deserts. If I should like to see Gilbert more studious, it is perhaps from a selfish wish to have him more in sympathy with myself—not that I am much of a student, I am but an idle fellow, God help me, enjoying my pleasant, easy life here with you, Margaret, and the girls.” “Everybody must be happy in his own way,” said Lady Elgitha. “Gilbert would never be happy as a parson; it is my belief that he wants an active life. I must write to the Earl about him—something in the Treasury now.” “My dear, your nephew cannot nominate as your father and grandfather did. Gilbert must stand the test of an examination; if he cannot satisfy the examiners, no amount of blue blood will avail him.” “According to that, Mark will have the best chance in the world.” “And everywhere else,” said the rector. “I only wish our Gilbert had half the chances of Margaret’s fatherless boy. Michael Fenner, though dead, has done more for his son than I for mine. Gilbert is selfish, idle, almost illiterate, and I look with shame on the virtues of my nephew who has had so much less done for him.” “Why, Rector, what has given you such a fit of the blues this afternoon?” exclaimed Lady Elgitha, regarding him with amazed alarm. The rector attempted some jest, and calling his little daughter, set out on his usual afternoon peregrination, while Lady Elgitha, seriously disturbed, reflected whether it would be advisable to calm his troubled mind by a course of globules, or to divert his thoughts by a dinner party or a tennis tournament. (_To be continued._) [Illustration] VARIETIES.