purchase apples, a proposition which he car-sale-property of somebody else's little girl, ried into effect; and leaving her with a hand- deceased-and by invitation of Venn went ful of good things, proceeded upstairs with a round to his chambers, where, first by the view to commit to paper some of those aid of warm water and soap, Dame Nature's invaluable thoughts which were seething in handiwork was made to look clean and white, his brain. Presently, to his astonishment, the and then, with needle and thread and child followed him up like a little terrier, scissors, the child was arrayed in what to and, sitting down gravely upon the hearth her was unspeakable grandeur. rug, began to talk to him with perfect confidence. Thereupon he perceived that here was a new friend for him. "What is your name, absurd little animal?” he asked. "Lollie Collingwood." "And who are your amiable parents, Miss Lollie Collingwood; and what may be their rank in life? Where's your mother, little one?" "Mother's dead." "Father, too?" "Got no father. Grandmother told me to sit still on the steps. Only the cat came. Here's grandmother." Grandmother was no other than Mrs. Peck herself. Later on, she explained to Venn that her daughter, who had left her to go into service, and was a “likely sort o' gal" to look at, had come back to her the year before with the child. "Said her name was Mrs. Collingwood. Said her husband was dead. Oh! dear-adear-a-me! Said he was a gentleman. And here was the baby-great girl already. And then she pined away and died. And never a word about her husband's relations; and the child for me to keep, and all. And bread's rose awful." Hartley took the child on his knees, and looked at it more closely. As he looked, thinking what a sad lot hers would be, the little girl turned up her face to him, and laughed, putting up her lips to be kissed, with such a winning grace that Hartley's eyes ran over. "I'll help you with the child, Mrs. Peck," he said; "don't be afraid about it. Will you be my little girl, Lollie?" "I'se your little girl now," said the child. And they gave each other the first of many thousand kisses. "Now, wait here with grandmother, while I go to get some things for you." He set her down, and went to the establishment of a young lady, with whom he had a nodding acquaintance, devoted to the dressmaking mystery. The lady, by great good luck, had a complete set of clothes for "That's my little girl, Miss Nobbs," said Hartley, looking at the result with beaming eyes. “Well, I'm sure, Mr. Venn! You might have the good taste not to throw your child in my teeth, I do think." "My good soul, I didn't. Are your teeth broken? Let me look at them." Venn, you see, was younger then. "Ha' done now, Mr. Venn. You and your little girls, indeed!" "My dear Miss Nobbs, you and I, I am sure, have the greatest possible respect for each other. Do not let me be lowered in your eyes. The child is the grand-daughter of my laundress, the aged but still industrious Mrs. Peck." "Snuffy old woman she is! I can't think how you can have her about you. And that is her grand-daughter?" "This is her grand-daughter-Miss Laura Collingwood. I propose, Miss Nobbs, to devote a portion of my leisure moments to the cultivation in this child of those mental accomplishments and graces which have made you the admiration of the quarter." "Good gracious, Mr. Venn!-you'd talk a donkey's hind leg off. Don't be ridiculous!" "And, secondly, Miss Nobbs, I propose to ask your assistance in providing her with a set of suitable clothes." "Now you talk sense. Let's see—she'll want six pr' of socks, two pr' of boots, three new pettikuts, four pr' of—yes, four pr' of " "Let us not go into all the details," said Venn. "I need hardly say, Miss Nobbs, that in selecting you out of the many talented and tasteful costumières in our aristocratic and select neighbourhood, I rely entirely on that professional skill which "Lord, lord!" said Miss Nobbs, "if all the gentlemen talked like you, where should we all be, I wonder? You let the child come to me to-morrow, and then I'll do all I can for her. You're a good man, I do believe, Mr. Venn, though you are so full of talk." "Take a glass of wine, Miss Nobbs, and drink the health of Lollie." This was the beginning of it all. Next day the child was brought round, solemnly arrayed in her new splendour, to be looked at. Hartley kept her with him all the afternoon, and gave her the first glimpse of the alphabet. This he found so amusing, that he repeated it every day until he had taught the child, who was wonderfully quick and intelligent, to read. Then he laid in an immense stock of picture-books, and gave them to his little girl as fast as she could read them; and then he taught her to write. Three or four years passed on in this way. The afternoon lessons had never been interrupted, save when Venn went away for a fortnight or so in the autumn. They had gradually lengthened out, so as to take up nearly the whole day. Lollie came now between eleven and twelve, and did not go home till six, arrangements being made with a neighbouring purveyor to send up luncheon to Mr. Venn every day at two, which was Lollie's dinner. She was then ten or eleven years old-a child with long fair curls hanging down her back, knuckly elbows, and long legs, such as most young ladies of her age may show. Only her face is much the same as when Venn picked her up on the doorstep, with a soft, confiding expression. She promises well-little Lollie-to grow up into a beautiful woman. THE MARVELLOUS EXPERIENCES OF ELIZABETH WINTERBOURNE. BY JOHN C. DENT. XIV. "I BELIEVE that for once in her life," continued Mr. Barcliffe, "Mrs. Ridley had met her match. She turned all colours in the rainbow, and shot black lightning at me from under those heavy eyebrows of hers. "Who are you?' she exclaimed as soon as she could speak. "Allow me, my dear Mrs. Ridley, to present you with my card; accompanied by the expression of a desire on my part that we may become more intimately acquainted. From all I can learn, you and I have been too long strangers to each other;' and so saying, I handed her my card. She just glanced at it with a bewildered look, and well, Squire, I am not more free from human weaknesses than my betters, and I candidly acknowledge that I felt not a little flattered at the pallor which superseded every other hue in the hag's wrinkled visage. It was evident that my name was familiar to her, and that my bodily presence affected her very unpleasantly. "But I will not multiply details. I took the candle from her unresisting hand; and leaving her in charge of my two assistants, one of whom lighted his dark lantern, I dashed upstairs. There was the long, narrow passage mentioned by Lizzie, and down at the other end of it was the room in which she had been imprisoned. It was not locked. I opened it, and went in, to find myself face to face with Miss Rachael Ridley—a not ill-looking young woman, of twenty-four or twenty-five summers. "Don't be alarmed, Miss Ridley,' said I. Your venerable maternal relative is now in charge of two esteemed friends of mine downstairs; whither, with your permission, I will now escort you.' "She is of a much better type than her mother, and had the decency to faint. I soon brought her to, and handed her over to the constables. I went down the steps into the garden, and there was just sufficient moonlight to enable me to discover that Lizzie's description was accurate. Notwithstanding the protestations of the two women that there was no one else in the house, we searched from garret to cellar, but found no one. We then conveyed our prisoners before the magistrate. On the way, Miss Rachael quietly told me the whole story, rightly considering that further reticence would avail nothing. The magistrate, Mr. Faulkner-who told me, by the bye, that he is an old friend of yours-made out the warrant of commitment, and despatched the prisoners to gaol, where they are now awaiting their trial. "The story Miss Ridley told me was to the following effect:-In the beginning of November, Edward Brooks paid his customary visit to his brother's estate, and broached the scheme to her mother. It appears he knows enough of the old woman's past misdeeds to render if injudicious for her to thwart him; but it was with a good deal of reluctance that she consented. The programme was arranged between them. He said he had two men upon whom he could rely to do his bidding, and that Lizzie was to be detained until he could pay her a visit without exciting suspicion. Neither Rachael nor her mother has the slightest idea who the two scoundrels who did the deed are, but they professed to be from London. They resided in the house from the time of their arrival with Lizzie-the morning of the twentieth-until the forenoon of the fifth of January, instant; spending their time chiefly in drinking and gambling together, and never going far away from the building. My informant is equally ignorant as to the ownership of the horses and carriage used in the expedition; but she knows that they were kept in the stables, at the rear of the garden, during Lizzie's imprisonment. They were not Richard Brooks's, for he disposed of his previous to his departure for America. "The meagre appointments of Lizzie's chamber were attributable partly to Mr. Edward's instructions, and partly to the old woman's indolence. There is but one windowless room in the building, and that was empty; and she would not take the trouble to put comfortable furniture into it, but put in some old things from a room adjoining. "Well, when the girl's imprisonment had lasted about a month, Mr. Edward made his appearance. He professed the most unbounded regret for the course he had pursued, and announced his determination to proceed in it no further. But in order that Lizzie's return might not appear to have any connection with his absence from Harrowfield Manor, he directed that she should be detained for some days longer; and after the lapse of a few days, Lizzie was brought back again. "This morning I set out on my return here. I stopped at Broxton, and laid my information before Squire Thistlewood, so that nothing would remain to be done after my arrival here but simply to make the arrest. He supplied me with a constable. I have no clue as yet to the whereabouts of the two accomplices. To-morrow I shall visit Mr. Edward in gaol, and see what I can get out of him about them. If I fail to elicit anything from him, I shall try other means to discover them. And now, as I am somewhat tired, I shall feel obliged if you will let me lie down for a few hours." XV. While Mr. Barcliffe was entertaining Squire Thornton with the astounding details contained in the foregoing chapter, Edward Brooks was being conveyed to the county gaol. His spirit seemed to be completely broken; and Mr. Joshua Biggins, the constable who had him in charge, thought that the thief-taker had been unnecessarily severe in subjecting his prisoner to the ignominy of handcuffs. He had occasion to modify his opinion considerably, a little while before daylight, however, when he found himself lying on the broad of his back in the middle of the road, and his prisoner, horse, dogcart and all, gone, goodness only knew whither. Upon completely recovering his very mediocre intelligence, he recollected a sudden movement on the part of Mr. Brooks, followed by a violent blow with the darbies on the back of his own head, which displayed to his gaze all the stars in the firmament, together with a comet or two, and a few minor asteroids, not specially named in the celestial chart. He recollected nothing else, and had not the slightest idea what length of time had elapsed since his astronomical entertainment. He was in a lonely part of the road, too—no house for upwards of a mile in any direction. He spent the greater part of the day in futile endeavours to discover some traces of the fugitive; and then proceeded to do what it would have been much more expedient for him to have done at first, and made the best of his way to Harrowfield Manor, to communicate his mishap to Mr. Barcliffe. That gentleman, however, had long since set out for Lincoln Gaol, to confer with the ex-steward. Upon his arrival there, discovering that the prisoner had not been delivered into the gaoler's hands, the truth flashed upon him, and his chagrin was such as to induce several epigrammatic remarks on his part, which were much more conspicuous for their force and emphasis than for strict politeness or morality. Divested of periphrasis, that means that he swore like a trooper. "I was tired out," he remarked; "and I had no choice but to sit up with him all night myself, or give him in charge to some. body. I thought that surely, if I clapped the bracelets on him, he might be trusted even to one of these cowardly, stupid, useless country constables." XVI. Before Mr. Barcliffe knew the whole truth as to the escape, and could get upon the right scent, Edward Brooks had converted the horse and cart into current coin of the realm, and was on his way to that hospitable refuge for so many oppressed fugitives from justice the United States of America; from whence, three months afterwards, a letter arrived from him to Squire Thornton, expressing the deepest regret for the one base act of his life, which had expatriated him from his native land. In this letter, the writer explained his design pretty fully, from first to last. He stated that from the first moment when he had set eyes on Lizzie Winterbourne, he had conceived for her a morbid passion for which he could not account, even to himself; but it was a passion which he had found it impossible to suppress, and he had been equally unable to reconcile his mind to the idea of a marriage with her. Feeling satisfied that any attempt to induce her to consent to his addresses would prove futile, and having struggled with his infatuation for a long time, he had determined to resort to more high-handed measures. During a journey to London, which business of the Squire's had compelled him to take in the previous November, he had found a couple of ruffians who had already rendered themselves so obnoxious to the laws of England as to make a prolonged residence there a matter of great inconvenience for them. A bribe of two hundred pounds secured him their services. Assuming the aspect of commercial travellers, they had lingered about Broxton and the neighbourhood, awaiting his orders, for a week previous to the abduction, taking especial care never to be seen together. On the Wednesday before the plot had been carried into execution, Brooks had heard Lizzie promise Miss Harriet to be at the Manor with her work by eight o'clock on the evening of the nineteenth, and had notified his hirelings to be ready to seize her on her way home. He had not calculated upon her father accompanying her. She was much later than she had intended, as the reader will remember; and the rascals had not waited for her to do her errand, but had seized her on her way to the Manor. Brooks himself, as the Squire well knew, was busily occupied in adjusting some accounts on that evening, up to a late hour; and thus it was that he did not form one of the party who went out to look for Lizzie on the moor. No sooner was the bird fairly caged, than he had begun to regret his conduct, and had resolved to restore the girl unharmed to her parents. When this resolution had been carried out, he had paid his accomplices the balance due to them-he had paid them fifty pounds before-and they had at once started for the Continent, each taking a solemn oath never to return to England. He had had no fears when the Squire had suggested the employment of Mr. Barcliffe, as he supposed all traces of his crime to be effectually removed. He had never, indeed, felt any alarm up to the moment of his arrest, when he gave himself up for a lost man; but on his way to gaol, he had made the discovery that the handcuffs were not very tight about his wrists; and having very small hands, he had contrived, at the expense of a good deal of skin, to withdraw one of them; whereupon he had dashed the constable to the ground, and made good his escape. He begged the Squire to exert all his influence in favour of Mrs. Ridley and her daughter; who, he said, had served him with great reluctance, and were, comparatively speaking, guiltless in the matter-more especially Miss Rachael. And so the epistle ended. The remainder of the story may be comprised in very few words. Squire Thornton did not attempt to exert any influence either for or against the prisoners, who were duly brought to trial. Mrs. Ridley was convicted, and suffered a long term of imprisonment; after which she left Lincolnshire for parts unknown. Miss Rachael was acquitted, there being no evidence of her complicity, either in the abduction or the detention; the judge very properly refusing to admit her confession to Barcliffe as evidence, it having been manifestly obtained by undue influence on the part of that sharp-witted personage, who had held out strong hopes of pardon to her, as an inducement to confess. Her evidence, however, left no loophole for her mother; who, notwithstanding, pleaded "Not guilty." Immediately after the termination of the trial, Miss Rachael took passage for America, where it is to be presumed she rejoined her old lover-Richard Brooks. The last-named gentleman never returned to England. His property was placed in the hands of an estate agent, and in due course of time was sold to a very |