Mrs. Arderne had kindly invited Brian North to stay to lunch, as he and Catherine were to go to Carm Hall early that afternoon.

'On your return from the visit to Mr. Carmichael you can take your bag and find an inn,' she suggested.

During the meal she occupied herself in studying Brian, 'drawing him out,' by artful questions on literary and other matters. While quite aware of her scrutiny and purpose, he allowed himself to gratify her curiosity as much as possible, acknowledging tacitly her right as Catherine's friend to be anxious lest Catherine's lover should prove a simpleton or a cad!

Brian was keenly amused. Not being a very young man, he was free from self-consciousness under the investigation, and was able to repay study by study. Vivacious, worldly little Mrs. Arderne, with her contradictory feelings towards Catherine's lover—half desirous of agreeing with Catherine's choice, yet disappointed because Catherine had been 'so romantic' as to accept a penniless suitor—was a charmingly inconsistent character for the writer to consider.

The result of this mutual interest was naturally twofold. Brian decided that he was glad Catherine possessed so true-hearted a friend, and Mrs. Arderne came to the conclusion that Brian was a man of delightful manners, brilliant wit, good breeding, and undoubted talents—a fit husband for Catherine in every way but that of fortune!

Lunch over, Ted and Toddie came down to be played with as usual, and immediately insisted upon questioning Mr. North at great length as to where he lived, and why he lived there, what he did all day long, and why he did it, etc., etc. By his answers he gave purposely an accurate account of his circumstances,—more for the information of Mrs. Arderne than to please her children.

'I write for papers—sometimes all night long, while you little people are comfortably sleeping,' he said, laughingly lifting them on to his knees. 'It is tiring work, and I can't say I'm fond of doing it; I should like to sit at home and write about things that interest me—to make books, you know. Only people are not paid for doing the things that amuse them, and if I did not work for money I shouldn't ever have any jam to eat with my bread and butter. I really doubt if I should have even the bread without the butter!'

Ted and Toddie stared solemnly at him.

'It's your lessons. We don't get money at all for doing ours, though.'

'For shame, Ted!' cried Catherine. 'You get prizes when you are good, industrious children, and your work is not worth money yet. Some day, when you are quite grown up, you will be able to earn payment, as Mr. North does, but only if you learn well while you are young.'

'Did you learn well when you were six?' asked Toddie, anxiously peering into his face.

'I am not quite certain, dear, but I was always very fond of reading.'

'And I say, are you working for prizes too, as we are?'

Brian glanced smilingly at Catherine, who blushed radiantly as he answered:

'Yes, Ted, for a prize that is very beautiful; but I cannot stay to tell you now what the prize is, because I am going out with Miss Carmichael this afternoon.'

'Carr, you'll tell us all about it to-night, won't you?'

''Bout Mr. North's prize!' added Toddie.

An interruption occurred at this moment. A servant brought in a note for Catherine, and explained that Mr. Carmichael's carriage had come for her.

The letter was as follows:

'Carm Hall.

'My dear Niece,—

'I hope you will give me as much of your society as possible to-day (bringing Mr. North with you, if he has arrived yet in Beverbridge); but apart from this desire of mine, pray keep the carriage waiting as long as suits your convenience.

'Believe me to be,

'Your affectionate uncle,

'Ross Carmichael.'

'Oh, good-bye to our nice walk!' sighed the girl mischievously, as she handed the note to Brian. 'A closed carriage too! I see it through the window! And this is such a lovely autumn day! Dear old uncle, I ought to be ashamed of my grumbles, though, for he meant to show me a most considerate attention!'

Brian laughed, as he answered:

'The walk is a loss, certainly, but by driving we shall be able to spend a longer time at Carm Hall, and I am anxious to make the acquaintance of your relatives.'

'Mr. Carmichael is a charming old gentleman,' said Mrs. Arderne.

'And what is Colonel Carmichael, please, ma'am?'

'My darling girl, don't question me in that impertinent fashion. My admiration for your elder uncle does not make me blind to the charm of the younger.'

'Uncle Jack impressed you favourably, I am certain, though you saw so little of him!'

'Mr. North, do you mean to allow Catherine to obstinately insist upon offending Mr. Ross Carmichael?'

Brian looked from the interrogator to Catherine's demurely smiling face, then back again.

'If I wished Catherine to be worldly-wise, Mrs. Arderne, I should be wishing her to give me up.'

'No, not necessarily,' cried the kind little woman, anxious to make amends for having reminded him of his poverty. 'If Mr. Ross takes a fancy to you, he might—do anything for you both. He is already much attached to his niece. It is only her obstinate choice of a home with Uncle Jack that stands in the way of her heiress-ship!'

'While Catherine sees a work awaiting her, she will become happy only by doing it. I would rather she should be happy than rich.'

'Then you believe in her possession of a serious vocation to convert the inhabitants of Redan Cottage?'

'I always believe in a woman's vocation to do that good which she clearly sees ought to be done, and for which her gifts and sympathies fit her,' he answered gravely.

'Oh, Brian, thank you!' the girl cried gratefully.

'I thought that only Catherine was quixotic and imprudent, but now I see that you are both in the conspiracy to ruin your prospects!' was Mrs. Arderne's regretful reply. 'At least you need not let Uncle Ross's horses catch their deaths of cold! Go and get ready, Catherine, foolish child!'

As they were driven along the well-kept country road leading to Carm Hall, Catherine and Brian talked of their 'prospects' almost as practically as Mrs. Arderne could have done, but they were the prospects of finding work for him, not an heiress-ship for her! And to an irreligious or God-forgetting person their trust in the efficacy of asking heavenly aid would, no doubt, have seemed childish. They were content, however, because now they both believed that God would provide for the necessities of those who turned to Him in faith.

It was Mr. Carmichael's footman, not his personal attendant, James, who opened the door of Carm Hall to them, and they were ushered into the large drawing-room, where the master of the house was awaiting them.

'Uncle Ross, I have brought Brian, you see!'

'I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. North.'

These were the first words spoken.

Some time elapsed before the trio could shake off the strangeness of their meeting; even the elderly man was conscious of a feeling of awkwardness. Brian, who had come to be inspected, was perhaps most at ease. It was due, chiefly, to his adroit management of the situation that conversation became more confidential before long.

In speaking of some news of the day, he alluded to the opinion advocated on the subject by the paper for which he had formerly worked, and expressed his regret at having lost his employment.

'For, as you know, sir, I am a very poor man, with the best possible reason for desiring success in my profession.'

'Catherine says you are a hard worker when work is ready for you to do,' said Mr. Carmichael.

'It would be strange if I were not, since our home depends upon my industry,' answered Brian, with a smile. 'We have been making each other very hopeful—haven't we, Catherine?—by deciding that work usually comes to those who are anxious and able to do it.'

'Work, perhaps—though personally I doubt your optimistic theory—but not always the kind of work desired.'

'It would only be a question of capability with me. I would do any honourable remunerative task.'

Uncle Ross began to question Brian closely as to the writing he had done, and the extent of his literary and journalistic experience, and the talk became animated, interspersed with anecdotes of celebrated literature, and keen, clever expressions of opinion by the younger man.

Catherine sat silent, listening and taking pride in her lover. That Uncle Ross was pleased was evident.

It was after tea—over which Catherine presided—that a chance question brought discord among them. Mr. Carmichael asked their plans.

Was Mr. North staying long in Beverbridge? and how much of his time was already allotted?

'None, except this evening, when I believe I am to have the pleasure of making your brother's acquaintance,' answered Brian.

The frown, almost habitual, but which had been invisible during the last hour, returned to the squire's brow.

'I regret that my niece continues to court the favour of those persons—I should say of the person—who has wronged me.'

'It was an involuntary wrong; Uncle Jack desires nothing so much as to have his share in the quarrel forgiven him!'

'When trust has been once broken, trust can never again be established. Catherine, I wish you to be happy; Mr. North, I hope to make you an offer which you will be able to accept without loss of independence; but I do require from you both some practical evidence of your consideration.'

'But, uncle dear, I have been offered a home at Redan Cottage, and though I do not mean to give up my situation as Mrs. Arderne's companion, I have promised always to regard Uncle Jack's home as my own.'

'You have done this in defiance of my objection?'

'Agatha wants me, poor lonely little soul! and from whom but an uncle could I accept a shelter?'

'True. I regret that my offer was not made first. However, all that is necessary now is that you should inform—the—the other uncle that you are obliged, for Mr. North's sake, to withdraw your acceptance of the home.'

'Why "for Mr. North's sake"?' asked the girl, going at once to the root of the matter. Uncle Ross knew that this inducement was the strongest he could offer, and she, by her question, admitted as much.

'I will tell you my plan,' said Mr. Carmichael, 'though I had intended waiting for a day or two, until Mr. North and I had begun to understand one another more. It is this. I purchase the paper known as The Circle, and become sole proprietor. It is in the market, and is as safe an investment as any I know. Then I offer Mr. North the editorship, with a yearly increasing share in the profits. At my death he shall become proprietor in my stead. The sole return I require from either of you is a reasonable amount of companionship—say a frequent Saturday to Monday visit, as the paper is a weekly one, and occasional longer stays here at Carm Hall—with a cessation of your visits to the brother who has injured me. In the interests of peace and goodwill, I would sanction a meeting between you and him at Christmastide.'

While the squire had been speaking he had watched the faces of his auditors, had noted and apprised the strength of glad surprise, of gratitude, of hope, of disappointment, of disapproval. He could scarcely believe that his offer would be refused, yet he saw how trustfully Brian turned towards Catherine, leaving her to answer, and how brave was the determination in Catherine's eyes.

'Uncle, your offer of help is a very large one, and we both thank you for it; but I cannot, even for Brian's sake, break my word to Uncle Jack, who was the first to offer me a home, and to Agatha, who wants me. Neither could I enter upon a share in the quarrel, taking your part in it, since I believe that, though Uncle Jack may have acted imprudently, he never meant to make Loring turn against you. I think that you might hold out a hand to him. He would be so glad, for he frets over your estrangement, and prays for you every day.'

'My dear niece, even a young and charming woman is not entitled to give advice to her elders. On my part, I advise you not to let mere sentiment stand in the way of your future husband's advancement in life.'

'I could not be so much indebted to you while I blame you in my heart. Oh, uncle, if a young woman ought not to judge her elders, when she is called upon to decide between them, she is obliged to consider what is her duty! My choice was declared when Uncle Jack made to me the best offer in his power, and Brian will not wish me to break my word to him, to agree to behave towards him as though I possessed one tithe less of the respect, love and admiration I have always felt for him!'

Brian responded to this appeal gravely and resolutely.

'While regretting the necessity to refuse so generous an offer, I think Catherine is quite right. This family quarrel exists through no fault of ours, so maybe it is not fair that we should suffer through it; but as we have to choose a side in it, we are bound in honour to make the choice in sympathy with our honest opinion of the right, not letting ourselves be influenced by the gain or loss of any worldly advantage. In Catherine's name, as well as in my own, sir, I express a hope that our being unable to accept favours from you will not prevent our owning your friendship.'

The squire turned abruptly aside and crossed the room to the window, where he stood for a few minutes gazing out. Land, houses, wealth, position, ease,—all these things had been scorned once by young Loring Carmichael; now they were once again refused by Catherine and her poor journalist lover. Yet the squire had spent his lifetime in amassing these goods,—had made great sacrifices for them, had toiled feverishly in his youth, and plodded through his best years of manhood,—had believed that wealth rules the world, and is the chief power over men and women. This second blow was a hard one, but he was too proud a man to wish to show chagrin.

As he returned from the window he replied to Brian.

'You must forgive me if I think you foolish. Having made you an offer, for which you have been good enough to express gratitude, it would be unreasonable were I to quarrel with you for refusing it. Your peculiarly delicate conscience will interfere with your chances in life, I fancy; but argument with an obstinate man is worse than useless.'

Catherine approached him, and clasped his right arm with her two hands, crying pleadingly:

'Uncle, say you forgive me for refusing. I don't want to lose your affection. I told you the other day that I sought you out for the sake of your old kindness to me, with no idea that a penniless niece might be helped by your money.'

The ring of truth in her voice touched the old man's heart, making him yet more regret her refusal of his offer. Here was honesty shining behind those frank brown eyes, and he half repented having hedged his plan round with conditions. But obstinacy, the fault of his old age, prevented him from withdrawing one of his former words.

'I forgive you, Catherine. I trust you may not suffer much through your folly,' was his sole answer.