WE WIVES; Cod: OR, "ib ALL HALLOW E'EN.

By LINA ORMAN COOPER, Author of "Charity Moore," etc.

CHAPTER I.

"Twelve o'clock, and a starry night!
The ghosts are about now!

HE bells of St. Paul's clamoured and clashed

THEnd rang over the sleepy little town, while

the heavy boom from Holy Trinity spire, and the wee tinkle of far St. Cuthbert's, chimed an accompaniment. Twelve o'clock ! and the solemn moon looked placidly down on the gabled houses, peaked roofs, and resonant spires. The window panes in mansion or cottage, all twinkled a smile back to the shining stars, while the broad limebordered streets looked pure and bright in the light. Twelve o'clock! and very few were stirring in Benton. The shops were all shut, the windows barred, and only a stray pedestrian occasionally hurried along the street.

Now and then a heavy footfall proclaimed a policeman to be on his "beat," and the guardian of the peace would saunter by, watchfully upright and alert. Perhaps a carriage with flashing lamps would whirl past, with a bevy of fair diners-out; but, for the most part, Benton was in its nightclothes and fast asleep.

Still there were some merrily awake, even in Benton. The bells of St. Paul's, for a moment, broke upon their mirth.

In the sober precincts of Miss Winton's school, a party of schoolgirls held their breath as midnight sounded.

66 Twelve o'clock, and All Hallow E'en! the ghosts are about now!" It was a soft voice, speaking in a would-be sepulchral whisper, and at the words, they all drew closer round the fire.

"Don't be silly, Christal," replied a firmer note. "Besides, Miss Winton would not like us to frighten the younger ones."

dold No, indeed, Maggie; "-it was the governess's own cheerful tones that spoke;

"we must have no superstition, though I let you girls have our old Hallow E'en Samo customs to-night, as I consider any old I usage interesting to keep up. If it were not that you three, my dear girls, were soon leaving me, I do not think your request, even, would have induced me to allow you this little relaxation. Now, good-night, and go to bed." Miss Winton spoke in the stilted style so common to governesses, but her face was a kind and homely one, and she gave each one of her pupils a warm kiss ere she dismissed them.

The three eldest she detained awhile, to put the room in order; and as they busied themselves in packing away the lead they had industriously melted, gathering up the scattered flour in which they had been dipping their hands, and putting away the unburnt nuts, Christal stole to the governess's side.

I did not intend to frighten the little ones, Miss Winton," she said, half shyly.

"I am sure you did not, my dear! Evil is often done by want of thought; but, Christal, there are no ghosts' in real life, except perhaps (and the middle-aged lady sighed) the ghosts of the past! Those I hope you may never have to sigh over! There, that will do, Maggie; thank you, Dorothy; now, good-night once more. You will find a fire in your room, for another treat; don't sit too long over it, girls."

"How dear and good and kind Miss Winton is!" said Dorothy Erle, as she brushed out her brown hair by the glow of the cheery blaze; "I am ever so sorry to leave her."

"Indeed, she is," said Christal, seating herself on the rug; "she's very fond of us all, though I suspect Madge is really prime favourite.

Margaret Jameson's lips had a smile on them, as she, too, joined the little group, though something like a tear gathered in her eye, while she thought this was nearly the last week of her school-days.

"Well, I could have been happier nowhere than here," she remarked, unloosing her coil of massive locks. "Dear Miss Winton! How few governesses are like her! She seems almost perfect."

There was silence for a few minutes, as the brushes plied their appointed task. Then Dorothy spoke again.

"I am almost afraid of looking into the future," she said, leaning her pretty chin on her hands; "it all seems so unknown."

"So it is, Dolly; but still God will lead us right, will He not? I sometimes feel afraid, and I said so to Miss Winton once. She told me a text then, that will help us, I think-'I will lead them in paths that they have not known.""

"That's nice," said Christal, and then, following Margaret's gaze, she looked into the glowing coal. After all, it's a pity we can't really tell fortunes by lead, and flour, and apple rinds! It would be grand if, by putting our hand into flour, we could really know if our husbands were to be rich, handsome, or good."

"It wasn't only of husbands I was thinking," said Dorothy, half impatiently; "I was wondering all about everything."

"Comprehensive, at any rate," added Margaret, and then Christal started up.

"Girls! I have a grand idea. Suppose we make a compact, that every All Hallow E'en, we write to each other, and say if we are happy. We'll write next year, when we just 'come out,' and the year after, when we have all been married, and we'll vote which is the happiest."

"That's a good thought, Christal. Will you do it, Madge?"

"Let me think a moment. We might each imagine we ourselves were the happiest; then how would you manage?"

"Oh, all the better," said the proposer of the scheme; "only, I know I shall not be! How can I be, with lots of work to do-darning and mending, and patching for all the children? Heigh-ho! It would have to be a very fairy Prince, who could make me the happiest."

"Well, I only wish I had younger ones to do for," replied Madge, opening her grey eyes; "I am going to a lonely house in comparison; and though mother is so dear and good, still I wish I had some sisters to 'fettle to."

Dorothy then spoke: "I have no sisters, but father will take me to all the regimental balls, and I shall not need to do much work; still, I wish mother were alive, or that I could remember her."

Margaret's hand stole round her friend's waist, and she gave it a loving squeeze, as she said, "It appears to me, none of our lives look perfect. I think it will depend on us, ourselves, a great deal. Carlyle says, 'Life begins with renunciation,' and we each of us have to renounce something, I suppose."

"Still, we had better take each scrap of happiness, as it comes, and make the most of it,' answered Dorothy. "I have no patience with whining over impossibilities."

"Well, now, that's settled! Let's all join hands, and promise solemnly to write to each other, if we are alive, on the next two Hallow E'ens, and say if we are happy or not," said Christal; and then she made her two companions stand up. "I'll begin, and you must follow. I, Christabel Conway, promise, if possible, to let you know if my life is a happy one next Hallow E'en."

"It sounds rather solemn," whispered Dorothy, with a half-scared face; but she repeated the words, substituting her own name. Margaret Jameson followed suit, and then they all looked awed for a moment.

"It seems rather an eerie proceeding. It makes me quite shiver," said Madge, shaking her rough mane; but Christal, with a contented smile, bundled up her glittering hair. "It makes me feel quite comfortable," she said, at which Dorothy Erle laughed.

"You were always a girl for having things bound and tied down; for my part, promises are not pleasant things.'

The three little morocco-bound Bibles were now brought out, and the three young readers

B