unmoved when tempted to do wrong. Show that noble spirit all of you-do not let me have to reprove you as I have done to-day; rather so act in future that I may be proud, not ashamed, of my pupils." He paused, and added solemnly, "So act that you may have God for your friend, then you will not fear what man can do unto you." A dead silence reigned in the large schoolroom, and it was with awed, serious faces that, having received permission to retire, each boy came up to the master to say good night, and to receive the customary shake of the hand. At last all had quitted the school-room, except Archie and Dick Marsden. "Shake hands now," said Mr. Fanshawe, taking a hand of each, and placing it within that of the other; "forgive all that is past, and be good friends henceforth." There was real cordiality in the ready willingness which Archie evinced in obeying his master's orders, but Mr. Fanshawe noticed the almost sullen air with which Dick Marsden extended his hand, and thought, "I shall have trouble with that boy yet," but making no farther remark, he dismissed them both to their respective apartments. CHAPTER XI. If thy dream would not forsake thee, CARPENTER. "IF you please ma'm, master bid me ask you whether you were going to drive with him to-day; the carriage has been waiting some minutes." "Tell Mr. Martin I am not coming. I have already told him so." The words were spoken pettishly, but the speaker, a young lady, who could not have been much above eighteen, turned away that she might hide her tearful eyes and quivering lips. "Go, Nancy," she added, even more impatiently than before, as the domestic still hesitated and lingered on the threshold of the door, "go and tell your master what I say, and do not disturb me again on any pretence without I ring. Remember too, I am engaged, to every one who calls-do you hear ?" "Yes, ma'm," and the domestic withdrew. Her young mistress listened attentively to the sound of her retreating footsteps, then hastily rising from her seat, she turned to the window, and carefully arranging the Venetian blind in a manner that she could see without being seen, gazed earnestly down in to the street below. A beautiful little pony phaton was drawn up at the door, and by its side stood Edward Martin, whip in hand, impatiently drawing the thong backwards and forwards through his fingers, and looking from time to time towards the door as if expecting some one. He had not long to wait. The servant, who had just quitted the drawing-room, appeared, and delivered her mistress's message. The young lady above bent her head, eagerly listening for the answer it would receive. "Oh! very well; tell Mrs. Martin it does not matter if she prefers staying at home. It is all one to me." The words were carelessly, lightly uttered, and he sprang forthwith into his little cabriolet, and catching the reins from the hand of the attendant groom, in a few minutes was out of sight of the straining, eager eyes, which followed his every movement. She turned at last from the window, and throwing herself on to a couch in a corner of the room, buried her head in the cushions, and gave way to a wild hysterical burst of weeping. "Oh!" she sobbed, "he does not care what I do or say, if I were to die to-morrow, he would not shed a tear; cold heartless thing!" and she wept anew in very pity for herself, as she pictured the whole dreary ceremony of her |