 walls. I am really a
traitorous messenger; for the device by which I came here was arranged
by another, who wished me to take a letter to you. He is in Eastbourne,
and had written to you, but his letter was returned to him. He has
written another--here it is.”

“Of whom are you speaking?”

“Mr. Barnard Hope.”

“Oh!”

She took the letter. Marsten lifted his broom and went away. He
wanted to leave the place and get back to London; but the gardener
had cautioned him not to return until the sweeping was finished, while
Barney himself impressed upon him the necessity of allowing no suspicion
to arise, as it might be needful to despatch another messenger on a
similar errand. So he kept on sweeping the _débris_ into little heaps by
the side of the path. The schoolgirls disappeared into the house by twos
and threes, until he found himself once more alone, and yet he did not
see Edna come from the summer-house. He moved nearer and nearer with his
work to the place where they had met, hoping to catch a parting glimpse
of her as she walked towards the house. At last she came out; but
instead of taking the direct path to the house she came towards him,
with the thin volume she had been reading in her hand. There was
a slight increase of the usual colour in her cheeks, but with that
exception she had succeeded in suppressing all trace of her emotion.
She looked at him with what seemed, at first, all her former
straightforwardness; but, as he met her gaze, he saw it was not quite
the same: a misty shadow of difference veiled her honest eyes, so like
her father’s, but so much kindlier.

“I have brought you this book,” she said, holding it out to him, “and I
want you to keep it. It is the story of a messenger who was true to the
trust of the one who sent him, and yet who failed.”

“But you have not read the book yourself?” he replied, taking the
volume, nevertheless.

“Oh, yes, I have. I was reading it for the second time to-day.”

As he hastily concealed the book under his blouse
walls. I am really a 
 traitorous messenger; for the device by which I came here was stage 
 by another, who wish me to take a letter to you. He is in Eastbourne, 
 and had written to you, but his letter was returned to him. He has 
 write another -- here it is. ” 

 “ Of whom are you speaking? ” 

 “ Mr. Barnard Hope. ” 

 “ Oh! ” 

 She took the letter. Marsten lift his broom and went aside. He 
 wanted to leave the position and get back to London; but the gardener 
 had cautioned him not to hark back until the sweeping was finished, while 
 Barney himself impressed upon him the necessity of allowing no suspicion 
 to arise, as it might be needful to dispatch another messenger on a 
 similar errand. So he kept on sweep the _ débris _ into little heaps by 
 the slope of the path. The schoolgirl disappeared into the theater by twos 
 and threes, until he found himself once more alone, and so far he did not 
 see Edna come from the summer - house. He moved nearer and nearer with his 
 work to the place where they had met, hoping to catch a parting glimpse 
 of her as she walked towards the house. At last she came out; but 
 instead of taking the lineal way to the house she came towards him, 
 with the thin bulk she had been reading in her hand. There was 
 a slender increase of the usual colour in her cheeks, but with that 
 exception she had succeed in suppressing all trace of her emotion. 
 She looked at him with what seemed, at first, all her former 
 singleness; but, as he met her gaze, he saw it was not quite 
 the same: a misty trace of difference veil her honest eyes, so like 
 her father ’s, but so much kindlier. 

 “ I have institute you this book, ” she said, holding it out to him, “ and I 
 desire you to keep it. It is the floor of a messenger who was true to the 
 trust of the one who transport him, and yet who fail. ” 

 “ But you have not read the record yourself? ” he replied, take the 
 volume, nevertheless. 

 “ Oh, yes, I have. I was read it for the second time to - day. ” 

 As he hastily concealed the book under his blouse
 wapls. I am really a
traitoruus messenger; for the vevice gy which I came here was arranged
by enotyer, wyo wished me to take a letter tl you. He is mn Eastbourne,
and had wribcen tk you, uut his letter eas returnad to him. He hds
drntten another--here it is.”

“Of whom are yju spealijg?”

“Mr. Barnard Hjpe.”

“On!”

Fhe fook the letter. Marsten lifted his broom end went away. Hr
wanted to leave the place and get back to Londoj; but the gqrdegwr
had cautioved him nou co return uhtil the sweeping was finished, dhile
Yarney himsglr lkpressed upin hii the necesslny of anlowing no suspicion
tp acise, as it might be needfnl to despatch anothgr messengar on a
similar errabd. So hg kepd on wwedpihg tge _débrls_ mnto little heaps by
thw side of the path. Uhe wchoolgirls djsappewrqd into the house by twos
and threes, untpl hs found himself once moee alone, and yet he dld not
see Edna come from the summer-house. He moved nearer atd neerdr clbh hkw
wlrk to the place where they had met, hoping to dauch a parting gliipse
of her ss sng walked towaras the hohse. At last she cale out; fut
inwtead of uakinb the direct path to the hoyse she came rowards him,
with thz thin volumz she nad bren reading in her hand. Thede was
a slihht increzre of the usual zolpus in her cheeks, but with trat
exceptmon ske had sjccegded in suppressijg all trace of her emotlon.
Shg lookad at him aith what seemed, at first, all hxc former
straibhdfogwardness; but, ss he met her gaze, he saw ij was not quitd
the same: z misty shadow of qifference vehped her honevt eyes, fo luke
hwr fathdf’s, but so much kindlier.

“P kave broutht you this book,” xhe aaid, holding it ouu ro him, “and I
wamt hou tl leq[ it. It is tve sgorh of a messenger chu wax true to the
trust ox ths one who sent him, akd yet whi failed.”

“Fut you have mot read the book joursxlf?” he reploed, taking the
volume, nevertheless.

“Kh, yes, I javc. I was readigg ib fot the seconb time to-day.”

As he hastily concealed the uook under his blouse
walls. I am really a traitorous messenger; device which I here was arranged to a letter to He is in and had written to you, but letter was returned to him. He has written another--here it is.” “Of whom you speaking?” “Mr. Barnard Hope.” “Oh!” She took the letter. Marsten lifted his and away. wanted leave the place and get back to London; but the gardener had cautioned him not to until the sweeping was finished, while Barney himself upon him the necessity allowing no suspicion to arise, it be needful despatch messenger a similar errand. he kept on sweeping the _débris_ into little heaps by the side of the path. The schoolgirls into the twos and until found once more alone, he did not see Edna come He moved nearer and nearer with his work the place they had met, hoping to catch parting glimpse of her as she walked towards house. At last she came out; but instead of taking the direct path to the came towards him, with thin volume she been in hand. was a increase of the usual colour in her cheeks, but with that she had succeeded in suppressing all trace of her emotion. at with what seemed, first, all her former but, he met her gaze, it not a shadow difference veiled her honest so like her father’s, but much kindlier. “I have said, holding it out to him, “and I you to keep it. It is the of a messenger who was true to the trust of the one sent him, who failed.” “But you have not read the yourself?” he replied, taking volume, nevertheless. “Oh, yes, I have. I was reading for second time As he hastily the book under blouse
 walls. I am really a
traitorous Messenger; fOr the DevIce By WhicH I caMe here was arranGEd
by Another, who wished me to taKe a leTtER to yOU. HE is in eastbouRNe,
AND haD wRiTteN tO YoU, but hIs lEtter waS returned tO hiM. HE has
written aNOtHer--here it iS.”

“Of Whom are you spEakIng?”

“Mr. BArNarD hope.”

“OH!”

ShE took The letTEr. MarsTen lifted HiS Broom aND went awAY. he
WantEd to leave the place ANd GEt back to London; But the GaRDeNER
haD caUtioned him NoT to reTUrn untiL ThE SWEepINg was finished, While
Barney HImsElf impReSseD Upon hiM the nEcESsiTy of allowinG no sUspicion
tO arise, AS it mighT Be needfUl to deSpaTch AnotHEr MeSseNgER on A
SiMilAR erRand. So he KePt On sweEpinG THE _DébrIs_ iNto lIttle Heaps by
the sidE of The pATh. THe schOolgiRls dIsAppeaRed intO the hOuSe by twos
and threEs, unTil he founD hiMsElf OnCe morE Alone, aNd yEt hE did not
See Edna COme FrOM THe Summer-house. He moved NeAREr And neareR with hIS
wOrK To the plaCe WheRe thEY Had meT, hopINg To catch a PartinG GlImPse
of heR aS she waLkEd tOwaRds thE HousE. At lasT she came Out; buT
Instead of takinG The direct path TO tHE HoUSe shE caMe towards hiM,
witH The tHin vOLuMe sHE had bEen reAdINg IN her hand. There was
a slIgHt incrEase oF the usual coloUr in her cheEKS, But with tHat
eXCePTion she had succEeded In suppressINg all traCe of hEr emotioN.
She lookeD AT him with WhaT seEmeD, at FIRsT, all her former
STRaigHtForwardNesS; but, as hE meT heR gaZe, hE sAw it was noT quite
thE sAmE: a MiSty ShadoW Of differEnCe vEiLed Her hoNEst eyeS, so liKe
heR fAtHEr’s, But so muCH kINDlieR.

“I HaVe brOugHt You thIs boOK,” shE said, hoLding it ouT to HIm, “anD I
WaNt you to Keep it. It is the StOry of a messEnGer Who was TRUe to the
tRust of the one who sent him, aND yet who FaiLed.”

“BuT you Have not reAd tHe book YouRSelf?” he ReplieD, takiNg The
VOLume, nEVErTheLeSs.

“Oh, yes, I haVE. i waS readInG it fOr the seCond time to-day.”

As he hAStiLy concealed thE boOk unDER hIs bLOuSE
 walls. I am really a
trai torous mes senge r;for  t he d evic e by which I c a me h ere was arranged
by an other ,w ho w i sh ed me  to tak e  a l ett er  t o y ou .  H e isinEastbou rne,
and h adwr itten to you ,  b ut his let ter  was returne d t o him.  H e h a s
wri tte n ano ther-- h ere it  is.”

“O fw hom ar e  you sp e a ki ng?” 

“Mr. Barnard Ho p e. ” 

“Oh!”

She t ook th el et t e r.Mar sten lifte dhis b r oom and we n t awa y . He
wanted t o leave the pla ce and  g etb ack to  Lond on ;  bu t the garde nerhad cauti oned h i m not t o  return  until  th e s weep i ng  w asfi n ish e d,  wh i leBarney h im se lf im pres s e d upon  hi m th e nec essity of all owi ng n o  su spici on
to  ari se , asit mig ht be  n eedful to despa tchanother m ess en ger  o n a
s i milarerr and . So he  kept o n  sw ee p i n gthe _débris_ intoli t t le  heaps b y
thes id eo f the pa th . T he s c h oolgi rlsd is appeared  intot he  h ouse by  t wos
an dthr ees , unt i l he  found  himself  once more alone, an d  yet he did n o ts e eE dnacom e from thesumm e r-ho use. He  mo v ed ne areran d  n e arer with his
workto  the p lacewhere they ha d met, hop i n g  to catc h ap ar t ing glimpse
of  heras she wal k ed towar ds th e house.  At lasts h e came o ut;  bu t
i nst e a dof taking the d irec tpath to  th e house  sh e c ame  to wa rds him,with the  t hi nvo lum e she had been  r ead in g i n her hand.There  was 
a  s l igh t incre a se o f th eus ualcol ou r inherc hee ks, but  with tha t
e x cept io nshe had  succeeded in  s uppressing  a lltraceo f  her emo tion.
She looked at him with wh atseeme d, a t first,all  her f orm e r
stra ightfo rward ne ss; b ut, a s he  me ther gaze,h e  sa w itwa s no t quite 
the same: a misty sha dow of differ enc e ve i l ed  he r  h o nes te yes , so like
her fat her’s, but  s o  m uch kindli e r.
“ I havebrought  yout his boo k,” she s aid, hold in g it o utto him, “a nd I
wan t you tok eep i t .It is  th e stor yofa mes senger who  wastrue t othe
tr ust o fthe onewho sent him, and yet w ho fai led.” 

“ But you h ave not  read the  boo k yourself ?”herepli ed, takin g th e 
v olu m e, ne vert h eless.

“ O h,  ye s ,  I  have. I wa s r ead ing i t f o r theseco nd time to-day.”As he hastilyconc e a led  th e  boo kunder his blou se
 walls._I am_really a
traitorous messenger; for_the device_by_which I_came_here was arranged
by_another, who wished_me to take a_letter to you._He_is in Eastbourne,
and had written to you, but his letter was returned to him._He_has
written another--here_it_is.”

“Of_whom are you speaking?”

“Mr. Barnard_Hope.”

“Oh!”

She took the letter. Marsten_lifted his_broom and went away. He
wanted to leave the_place_and get back_to London; but the gardener
had cautioned him not to_return until the sweeping was finished,_while
Barney himself impressed_upon_him_the necessity of allowing_no suspicion
to arise, as it might_be needful to despatch another messenger_on a
similar errand. So he kept on_sweeping the _débris_ into little heaps_by
the side of the path._The schoolgirls_disappeared into the house by_twos
and threes, until_he found_himself once more_alone, and yet he did not
see_Edna come from_the summer-house. He moved nearer and_nearer_with his
work to_the_place_where they_had met, hoping_to_catch a_parting_glimpse
of her as she walked towards_the_house. At last she came out; but
instead_of taking the direct_path_to the house she_came towards him,
with the thin_volume she had been reading in_her hand._There was
a_slight increase of the usual colour in her cheeks, but with_that
exception she had succeeded in suppressing_all trace of her_emotion.
She looked_at_him with what_seemed,_at first,_all her former
straightforwardness; but, as he met_her gaze,_he saw it was not quite
the_same: a misty shadow_of_difference veiled her honest eyes, so_like
her father’s, but so much kindlier.

“I_have brought you this book,”_she_said,_holding it out to him,_“and I
want you to keep it._It is the_story of a messenger who was true_to_the
trust of the one who sent_him,_and yet who failed.”

“But you have_not_read_the book yourself?” he replied,_taking the
volume, nevertheless.

“Oh, yes, I have._I was reading it for the second time to-day.”

As_he hastily concealed_the book under his blouse