all he said, myself, I must confess, but I know it was powerful, very powerful. Well, goodbye," and they dissappeared in a cloud of talk, Mr. Preston, as he walked away, calling back the last few words, and Mrs. Preston joining in a chorus of

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Hope to see you soon come over think it

will rain get home make haste."

CHAPTER IX.

"THE MAN OF THE WRECK."

I WALKED on, wrapt in thought. I felt convinced that there had been method in Mrs. Preston's madness this time, and that she knew something that she did not care, or thought it inexpedient, to tell. What was it?

Thus I pondered, till at last I woke up with a start to wonder that I was not arriving at Verney Court. In fact, I did not know where I was. I had been returning by the fields, which the Prestons had told me would be a short cut. But it was evident that I had missed my way. The scene was altogether

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strange to me, and wilder, if possible, than

I was in the vicinity of a great bay, which stretched its dark, and deep indented line through the mountains that towered all around, while, at the head, one mighty giant rose above the rest, spreading out in majestic grandeur, like a king surrounded by his soldiers. As I looked around, the scenery that met my eyes on every side was grand and picturesque beyond my power of description. No sign of cultivation was to be seen anywhere. Quite bare of all trees, the scene was one of intense and utter desolation, wild and savage as ever the mind of Salvator Rosa conceived, or his pencil traced.

As I gazed with mingled feelings of terror and admiration, I thought I heard a footstep behind me. I turned quickly, intending to inquire my way of the peasant, whom it pro

bably was, and, very much to my alarm, saw "The Man of the Wreck." I walked rapidly on, unwilling to make any inquiries of him, though I knew-as there was not a day since his presence in the place that I had not seen him about Verney Court-that he was well acquainted with the way thither. I felt sure that he was following me. I heard his uncertain footsteps and quick, gasping breath. I hurried on, though I might be going still further out of my way. I felt inclined to run, but restrained the impulse, for, after all, why should I be afraid of such a poor creature? He came up beside me.

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May I presume to inquire if you live at Verney Court?" he asked.

His voice was husky and shaky, yet I do not think he was at this moment actually intoxicated, strangely as he went on to speak. But, sober or not, he had evidently brought.

himself to that state when it made little difference in him.

"I do live there," I answered; then added, as he had spoken to me, "but I'm afraid I'm very far from it now. I've missed my way

coming from church.”

"Then you've not been long at Verney Court?" he said. "May I ask if Mr. Verney is any relation?

?"

I made no reply, but walked on quicker than before. He kept up beside me.

"I'm sure I beg pardon if I seem impertinent, and give you offence," he said, in a tone of almost abject humility. "I didn't mean it. But you're going wrong. Let me direct you."

I slackened my pace; instead, however, of doing what he had said, he remained silent for a few minutes, then, in a hesitating, undecided way, said