many lights burning in the Temple that evening, for the lawyers' Christmas vacation had commenced, and the tenants of the ancient Inn were all dispersed-some to their own happy homes, and the tender smiles of wife and child-others to the joyous welcome of parents and sisters in the old country house-some here—some there all gone, save the lonely and the friendless.

Walter drew the table nearer to the fire, and taking a book, began to read with an air of great earnestness and determination; there were many books in the room, piled promiscuously on shelves and tables, the only objects redeeming the aspect of desolation, which, owing to their meagre furniture, and the absence of all appearance of business, the chambers of the young barrister must else have worn. He read on, or appeared to read, for nearly half an hour. "It will not do!" he exclaimed at last, and threw the volume from him; "it will not do! I must give it up for

to-night!" So saying he rose, and began rapidly to pace the room, pausing after a while, with his elbow resting on the chimney-piece, and his eyes bent absently on the vacant space before him. The expression of his features, handsome in themselves, and shaded by a profusion of dark, flowing hair, was dejected and gloomy in the extreme, but his bearing was manly and erect, with a graceful and unconscious dignity, and the "grand old name of gentleman" ineffaceably impressed upon it.

"Another year gone by-another year!" he repeated; "another Christmas comethe seventh-aye, the seventh that I have passed within these gloomy walls, and yet no further progress made-nothing gained, absolutely nothing! Yet once I could-I dared to hope...how bold, how romantic... pooh, I was a boy then!"

He paused, lost in deep and painful reverie, till startled by the sudden opening of the door.

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Walter, old fellow!" cried a cheerful

voice, "yourself at last, in propria personá! I thought I should never find you out;” the speaker, a young man of open and prepossessing countenance, his person enveloped in a variety of protections from the weather, more convenient than elegant, entered with these words, and grasping Walter by the hand, shook it long and heartily, while he continued, "I went to the old quarters first, but there was a new name on the door, and no sign or rumour of you to be met with anywhere. I have been hunting up and down this dull place for the last half-hour, and had almost given up the search-indeed I believe I must have done so in utter despair, had not this last effort been crowned with success."

"And I am heartily glad it was so, Edward, and am truly rejoiced to see you again!" replied Walter, returning the hearty pressure of his friend's hand; "sit down...are you wet?"

"Oh, nothing to speak of, I understand taking care of myself; however, I may as

well get rid of these affairs-it's a pelting night!" So saying, with Walter's assistance, he proceeded to divest himself of his rough great coat and voluminous handkerchief, and then, stretching himself out in the proffered chair and taking a deliberate survey of the apartment in which he found himself, he continued, "You live pretty well in the clouds up here... pray how many feet do you call this above the level of the Strand? Let me see no, I don't like these chambers half so well as those you had before; why did you leave them?"

"We won't talk of that now; these serve my purpose quite as well, only let me enjoy the pleasure of seeing you in them. Do you know, Edward, I began to think that you were as bad as the rest—that you had forgotten me too; where have you been this long time, and why have you never written to me?"

"Where have I been!" returned Edward, passing over the last inquiry; "where have I been! rather ask me where have I not been

-here, there, and everywhere, my dear fellow! hunting, fishing, yachting—it's more than two years, though, since I was last in London-just before I started for Switzerland-you remember I called on you then."

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"Very true that was the last communication of any kind that passed between us." Well, I own it," said Edward in a contrite tone, "I ought to have written, but -I always put it off and positively, Walter, I had no idea you would have cared so much about it."

There was a short silence.

"And how are all at Harefield?" in

quired Walter presently; "your father, and Mrs. Wyndham?"

"All well," replied Edward; "the governor wears wonderfully, though you might probably find him looking something older-as -as also my mother. And that reminds me of my particular business with you to-night: I return to Harefield tomorrow morning, and I have set my heart