consideration beside the serious issues involved in her appeal to the countess; especially when the suggestion regarding young wives left unprotected, delicately conveyed to the husband, had failed of its purpose.  The handsome husband’s brows fluttered an interrogation, as if her clear-obscure should be further lighted; and it could not be done.  He weighed the wife by the measure of the sister, perhaps; or his military head had no room for either.  His callousness to the danger of his country’s disintegration, from the incessant, becoming overt, attacks of a foreign priesthood might—­ an indignant great lady’s precipitation to prophecy said would—­bring chastisement on him.  She said it, and she liked Henrietta, vowing to defeat her forecast as well as she could in a land seeming forsaken by stable principles; its nobles breaking up its national church, going over to Rome, embracing the faith of the impostor Mahomet.

Gossip fed to the starvation bone of Lady Arpington’s report, until one late afternoon, memorable for the breeding heat in the van of elemental artillery, newsboys waved damp sheets of fresh print through the streets, and society’s guardians were brought to confess, in shame and gladness, that they had been growing sceptical of the active assistance of Providence.  At first the ‘Terrible explosion of gunpowder at Croridge’ alarmed them lest the timely Power should have done too much.  A day later the general agitation was pacified; Lady Arpington circulated the word ‘safe,’ and the world knew the disaster had not engulphed Lady Fleetwood’s valuable life.  She had the news by word of mouth from the lovely Mrs. Kirby-Levellier, sister-in-law to the countess.  We are convinced we have proof of Providence intervening when some terrific event of the number at its disposal accomplishes the thing and no more than the thing desired.  Pitiful though it may seem for a miserly old lord to be blown up in his bed, it is necessarily a subject of congratulation if the life, or poor remnant of a life, sacrificed was an impediment to our righteous wishes.  But this is a theme for the Dame, who would full surely have committed another breach of the treaty, had there not been allusion to her sisterhood’s view of the government of human affairs.

On the day preceding the catastrophe, Chillon’s men returned to work.  He and Carinthia and Mr. Wythan lunched with Henrietta at Stoneridge.  Walking down to Lekkatts, they were astounded to see the figure of the spectral old lord on the plank to the powder store, clad in his long black cloak, erect.  He was crossing, he told them, to count his barrels; a dream had disturbed him.  Chillon fell to rapid talk upon various points of business, and dispersed Lord Levellier’s memory relating to his errand.  Leaning on Carinthia’s arm, he went back to the house, where he was put to bed in peace of mind.  His resuscitated physical vigour blocked all speculation for the young people assembled at Stoneridge that