mained to buy. The moss began to grow on the drive, the paint to peel from the doors, the windows to acquire a more glassy stare, and still it remained vacant.

'It was not everybody's house.' So the caretaker remarked confidentially to her friends when they came to take tea with her on Sunday afternoons, and walk in the evenings up and down the terrace, and stroll through the gardens which once incipient and quondam lord mayors and aldermen and great financiers, to say nothing of such western rank and fashion as Mr. Seaton could seduce into accepting his invitations, had honoured with their presence. 'It is not everybody's house ;' which was a most true observation.

A worse misfortune, however, seemed involved, and it was to this perhaps the ancient dame referred. Not merely was the place not everybody's, but nobody

wanted it.

'Lor', it might never be let,' she said, and the result seemed as though the speaker's hopes were going to prove correct.

Years passed away, and the house remained tenantless. It had been put up at the Mart, and there was not a bidder; it had been upon the books of the auctioneers till they grew ashamed of seeing it there. The trustee had almost forgotten such a residence was in existence, and if the firm of solicitors who held the legal portion of 'Seaton's estate' in charge had been similarly oblivious, the family mansion might have remained vacant until this present hour, and 'The Mystery in Palace Gardens' could never have been written.

CHAPTER II.

TO LOOK OVER THE HOUSE.

A RAW ungenial afternoon, the empty house in Palace Gardens, the only empty house in those Gardens, looking more miserable and forlorn than it had ever looked even when the snow was upon the ground, or a rapid thaw rotting the paths of its once trim garden. The leaves of the elm-trees dropping to the earth and making in the silence a noise as though they were matters of importance. The evening shadows beginning to draw in, the oaks and yews in Kensington Gardens darker than usual under the lowering sky, and seeming to have grouped themselves closer together so as to stand more aloof from the untenanted mansion, a solitary horse grazing in the paddock-like piece of ground behind the garden of Holyrood House, the board which stated This desirable,' &c., creaking a little, as if it had rheumatism and were complaining of such long and useless exposure to the weather. Not a living soul to be seen either up or down the avenue leading from Notting Hill-road to Kensington High-street; if any one had wanted to see a residence at its worst and wretchedest, then that person should have asked to view Mr. Seaton's former abode in Palace Gardens on the day and at the hour in question.

Mrs. Hemans, the caretaker, who had nothing in common with another Mrs. Hemans known to the lovers of sentimental and melancholy poetry, except the name,' as she herself would have said, had just wet her tea' and set it to brew on the falling bars of the kitchen range, and commenced toasting a herring for a 'relish,' when there came a rap at the front door, a rap loud and long,

which echoed through the empty house, and woke echoes in the deserted rooms.

'There now,' soliloquised the prosaic lady, putting her bloater into the oven and so removing one temptation out of her cat's path. Isn't that always the way? Can I ever sit down to a meal comfortable? Who'd ha' thought anybody who could stop in-doors a day like this would come out house-hunting! Drat 'em, I say; drat 'em, whoever they may

And thus sociably conversing with the only person who never disagreed with her opinions, Mrs. Hemans dragged her rheumatic limbs-she, like the board, being afflicted with that complaint-up into the hall and opened the front door.

On the step there stood two persons, an elderly gentleman and a middle-aged lady. He spare, upright, gray-haired, hard-featured; she inclined to embonpoint, dressed plainly ('dowdily, I call it,' criticised Mrs. Hemans inaudibly), and with face so concealed by a veil tightly drawn over it and tied behind her bonnet that no one could have told whether she was handsome or plain, a whilom beauty or a present fright.

It was the gentleman who spoke.

'Can we see the house?' he asked; 'we have not an order, but you perhaps know the name of this gentleman.' And he handed her a visiting card belonging to one of the partners in the firm of solicitors who had pocketed many six-and-eightpences in the matter of Valentine Seaton, a bankrupt.

or

Mrs. Hemans took the card and courtesied. She laid it, without glancing at the name address, upon the table in the hall where there stood a basket quite full of orders to view, visiting cards, notes requesting care

taker to admit bearer, and old envelopes and leaves torn out of pocket-books, whereon the househunter or the curious idler had written down his own signature or any other signature which at the moment occurred to him.

In good truth Mrs. Hemans was more than willing to admit any one-providing he did not come at meal-times-whose appearance suggested the donation of a shilling. It was not so much trouble opening the windows, and a shilling is a shilling,' said the old crone oracularly.

At first there had been a hardand-fast line laid down that no one should be permitted to view who did not bring an order from the auctioneers; but that rule had been gradually relaxed, and now any 'likely' person could wander at will over the house where Mr. Seaton once lived royally.

That is quite enough, sir,' said Mrs. Hemans, closing the door behind the latest comers. 'It is getting rather dark, sir, but perhaps you will be able to see the best of the rooms.'

The gentleman answered courteously enough that he had no doubt but they would, and then turning to the lady remarked in that stage tone which almost all persons who are looking over a strange house unconsciously

assume:

'Good hall.'

The lady did not answer him either in a stage tone or in any other; instead she walked straight across to the glass doors through which a pleasant view of Kensington Gardens was to be obtained, and looked out.

The gentleman followed her. 'It is allowed to be a beautiful terrace, ma'am,' said Mrs. Hemans, waxing genial. She had quite decided these people were not intending to take the house, and

she grew eloquent concerning its beauties accordingly.

If she had been deaf and dumb the lady could not have taken less notice of Mrs. Hemans's remark than was the case; indeed, as the caretaker afterwards said, 'If he had not talked there would scarce have been a word spoken.' He was affable enough; though grave looking and serious in manner, he had, so Mrs. Hemans declared, 'a pleasant way with him, and was a gentleman anybody might have took to.'

As for the lady, she was "'igh and 'aughty,' if Mrs. Hemans had ever seen a lady who was "'igh and 'aughty; she flounced here and she flounced there, and she swept out on the terrace and back into the conservatory, and said,

How many do you suppose these rooms would hold, Sir John?'

Sir John! Mrs. Hemans confessed afterwards she was astonished. Sirs coming on foot just like beggars in the street and ladies in old gowns and heads tied up as if they had toothache!

They ascended the principal staircase and looked into the bedrooms, and they proceeded to the next story and examined it. My lady asked about the stables, and Sir John made inquiries concerning the kitchens. My lady wanted to know if there was a private entrance into Kensington Gardens, and Sir John went out to look at the small hot-house in the further corner next the paddock.

The place is not grand enough for her,' thought Mrs. Hemans, watching the lady as she swept once more over the ground-floor apartments and marvelled discontentedly why they were so few. 'I wonder what she wants-Buckingham Palace likely.'

Sir John went down into the basement, but my lady said she did not want to see the kitchens.

'I sha'n't have to live in them,' she added, with a toss of her head; and she passed through one of the long French windows that opened on to the terrace, and walked up and down there, up and down, while Mrs. Hemans showed Sir John the lower portion of the house.

Often Mrs. Hemans declared afterwards she could not get the thought of the lady off her mind.

"There I never did see anything so ghostly-like as she looked out there walking past the windows in the twilight, herself appearing black from head to foot, and the veil tied down on her face like a mask. I had not a bit of appetite for my tea, which was brewed as black as ink. I was glad when I shut the door behind them, though the gentleman he did give me half-a-crown. She did not give anything; not even "Good afternoon."

The days came and the days went; a few persons straggled in to view the desirable residence, but my lady did not reappear, and Mrs. Hemans had quite decided she as good as held a lease of the house for another five years, when one bright morning in December Sir John, accompanied by a bright pretty-looking young girl, knocked at the door, and asked if he might go through the rooms again.

'You need not come with us,' he said to Mrs. Hemans. 'I can find my way quite well, thank you.'

The girl did not speak, but she smiled pleasantly at the old caretaker, who went slowly downstairs feeling much exercised in her mind.

'It has a bad look,' she thought; but lor', nothing may come of it. I have known folks come back four, five, six times, and never take a place after all. If they do take it, though, I should like to

be told what I am to do, that's what I want to know. I am sure I never can feel as much at home and as settled anywhere else.'

Meanwhile, Sir John and the young lady had made a tour of the premises, walked round the garden, paced the terrace, leant over the railings dividing Holyrood House from Kensington Gardens, admired the conservatory, decided that a very good ball might be given in the drawing-room, criticised the decorations, inspected the library, entered all the bed-chambers, and ascended slowly from story to story, talking as they went.

On the top floor there was a large bedroom, the windows of which commanded a fine view over Kensington Gardens. One of these windows had been opened in the morning by Mrs. Hemans to let in the crisp air, and the girl went over to it, and leaning on the sash looked wistfully out upon the peaceful landscape.

'It is very nice, papa,' she said, as Sir John came close beside her. It is so still and tranquil. No one would imagine we were in the middle of London.'

Hardly in the middle,' he answered.

'Well, you know what I mean,' she went on; we are really in a great town, and yet we might, so far as noise is concerned, be a hundred miles in the country.'

'I wish we were, Rachel.' 'It is a pity you cannot live where you like, papa.'

'I mean to try and like this house very much when we come to live in it,' he answered cheerfully.

How do you propose to do that?' she asked.

'I scarcely understand you, dear.'

'Well, it is a very handsome house, I suppose, and there are plenty of reception-rooms, and

I am out of my teens. I am nearly one-and-twenty. If I were a great heiress I suppose people would be thinking of my coming of age. What will you give me, papa, on my next birthday?'

I will not tell you till it comes,' he answered.

'I know what I wish you would give me now,' she said slyly.

'Have I ever refused you anything?' he asked, his eyes reflecting her smile, but his tone earnest as it was its wont to be.

'Ah, but it is never too late to mend,' she persisted.

'It must be an almost impossible request I should deny you, Rachel,' he answered; and there was a look on his face which told that somewhere he hid away a trouble, that behind the ready and kindly smile there lay the shadow of some bitter sorrow.

'It is not at all impossible; you can say "Yes" quite easily.'

'Let me hear this great petition, then, Rachel; what do you want me to do?

'I want you to give me this room for my very own; I should like to have it. I think I could live up here, and when you were very good you might live here too. Will you let me keep it?'

"Your mamma, dear, may wish-' he was beginning, but she cut across his sentence ruthlessly.

'I will give it up instantly if she objects, but I do not think

she will. I want you to give your consent; you, sir, do you hear? for you always make such a fuss about my having the best of everything in the house that I am afraid you will be giving me some of those dreadful rooms down-stairs. I can't bear having doors opening all about me; I like to shut mine and feel cosy. See, if you give me this room, I will put a huge screen, or perhaps two, across, and so divide it. I will place my easel here, and my work-table there, and get a little pianino and stand it against the wall, and be as snug up here as possible, out of the way of everybody.'

ever induce her voluntarily to live out of London. That of course settled the matter. I shall never reopen the question.'

He spoke gravely, but not bitterly. There was no trace of irritation in his voice, or any evidence in his manner of regret that he had been compelled to forego his own wishes. It was just as though he had spoken of the choice of two roads, either of which he was willing to travel, for neither of which he had any special predilection, and perhaps he did feel almost indifferent.

Looking at him for a moment Rachel's face clouded, and she laid her hand gently on his arm as if to give some unspoken comfort which she felt was needed.

to

Involuntarily he seemed. shrink from the light touch as though it pained him; and perhaps the girl felt this, for she drew it gently away.

Instantly he caught it in both of his and held it fast. Consciously he would not have wounded or slighted that tender heart, let his own suffer as it might.

'Arrange about the room as you please, dear,' he said with business-like composure; 'it certainly has a pretty look-out. You must let me know in good time how you would like it furnished, that it may be done up nicely for you; or will you choose the upholstery for yourself?'

There had been tears in her eyes not a minute before, but now she broke out laughing.

'Do you fancy I am going to turn extravagant in my old age?' she asked; do you think you won't have furniture enough on your brain without my adding to the trouble? No; now you have given me the room you must leave me to put just what I like in it. I couldn't part with all my old friends, I could not really. Except