being able once more to walk boldly forth, | hearth, selected the toughest book of those and this buoyancy carried her lightly and provided by Tom Reed's kindly thought, rapidly to her destination. and settled herself for a few hours' reading. But her attention was not quite so steady as she expected, she caught herself listening to the passing vehicles which were few and far between, although she had quite made up her mind that Galbraith would not come on Sunday. She was recognized by the clerk, who sat in a sort of wooden cage near the door, where he noted down the entrances of the seekers of justice or injustice, and he paid her immediate and polite attention. "Note for Mr. Wall, madam ? Certainly, it shall be given to him directly he arrives." "I am told he was to return last night." "Unfortunately he is detained at Dieppe by a severe cold, and fears he cannot travel till Monday." "I am very, very sorry for every reason;" and Kate felt almost choked with a lump that would rise in her throat. "Will you step in, madam, and speak to Mr. Wreford?" "No, thank you; it would be of no avail." She turned away, all her buoyancy gone - everything seemed against her. Five pounds lost, and another costly week in London probably before her, while her presence was so sorely needed at Pierstoffe. She felt too much cast down to face the long walk back, so she took refuge in an omnibus. The next day was Sunday, a rather wearisome day, under any circumstances, but doubly so in a small temporary London lodging. Kate was half amused, half angry with herself for the sort of disappointment she had felt at the non-appearance of Galbraith on the previous day. She was naturally anxious, though not very hopeful, about her five pounds; but over and above this motive she would have been thankful for the seasonable break in the depressing monotony of the day, which his presence, and perhaps a little argument, would have afforded. To-day he would not of course come. Men like him generally went away somewhere to avoid the sepulchral aspect of a London Sabbath. Moreover a Sunday visit implied a certain degree of intimacy. "To be sure," thought Kate, as she tied on her bonnet before going to church, "our acquaintance is altogether excep tional -a sort of byway not amenable to the rules that govern the turnpike-roads of good society." She walked some distance to hear a celebrated preacher, and then, as the weather, though not wet, was dull and chill and misty, resigned herself to remain indoors, made up a bright fire, and drawing a low folding-chair- the only tolerably comfortable seat in the room-near the Half an hour had hardly passed thus, when something drove up very rapidly and stopped suddenly. Then an impatient rap with the diminutive knocker, which sounded on the thin, unseasoned wood more like "the woodpecker tapping on the hollow beech-tree" than the regulation "thunder-claps" which "Jeames" used to discharge upon aristocratic entrances before bells had superseded knockers. The next moment Galbraith was bidding her "Good-morning." "Could not manage to come up here yesterday till it was later than you might have liked," he began, drawing a chair opposite her, as she resumed her seat, making himself quite at home, to Kate's amusement; yet her amusement was tinged with shades of compassion and regret. "I did not get your note till nearly twelve o'clock yesterday," continued Galbraith. "I stayed at the club till after the last delivery the night before, and began to think you had changed your mind, and were going to cast me adrift. However, your note explained all, short as it was. I have received very few letters from ladies in my life, and I have always understood that brevity is not their characteristic, but yours was literally but three words." "Yet it told you all that was necessary," said Kate, smiling. "Very true. Well, when I got down to the Street station the inspector was gone away somewhere, and I had to wait some time. He was very glad to get the number of the note, and said he thought they might manage it now. That is literally all I have to tell you, Mrs. Temple." "Thank you very much." Then, after a little pause, she added, "Of course I must give some reward; there will be something to pay?" "A mere trifle. The police are paid for their work by government, and I daresay you contribute quite enough in the shape of taxes towards their maintenance." There was a pause neither knew exactly what to say next, though their hearts were full enough. "And are you off on Tuesday?" asked Sir Hugh, at last. "No. I am sorry to say I find the solicitor I wanted to see does not return till Monday, and" (with a sigh) "he may not return even then. So I have not a very lively prospect before me; and I want so much to return." "It is very annoying," said Galbraith, sympathizingly, though a subdued smile lit up his eyes. "However, I hope you will have as little as possible to do with lawyers and the law." "I am on the brink of a lawsuit, I believe," replied Kate, urged by she knew not what impulse to approach the deep but narrow gulf between them, of which her companion was so unconscious. 66 Well, pull up before you are absolutely over," said Galbraith, earnestly. "I was once very near going in one for myself." Why did you not?" she asked, gazing away into the fire. it." Because I got what I wanted without "I will give up mine on the same terms," retorted Kate, with a thoughtful smile. "Perhaps my adversary may come to some accommodation as it is termed. Tell me, have you ever found any trace ot the lady you were in search of?" "What lady?" asked Galbraith, looking puzzled. "Perhaps I am indiscreet in alluding to the subject; but in a letter I once wrote for you, you made some inquiries about your uncle's or some relation's wid OW." "Yes, yes, of course. I am not in the habit of thinking of her as a lady. You mean Mrs. Travers. No; we can find no trace of her whatever. It is very curious," he continued, musingly, "the way she has vanished. I mean, I cannot account for her rejection of my offers; it is not in keeping with what I imagine the character of her class." "What was her class?" "Tradespeople; at least, I heard she was niece or relation to a man who used to supply old Travers with fishing-tackle. I think Travers took the lodgings where he met her through him. She was daughter to the woman of the house. Whether she acted as servant or not, I do not know; at any rate she fascinated my deluded relative; but if the right will had not turned up she should have had a tussle for the property." "Do you imagine she will ever try to disturb your possession of it?" asked Kate, leaning forward to replace a piece of coal which had fallen from the fire. "No; that is quite out of the question. The will could not be upset; but I confess it is very hard lines for her to be sent adrift upon the world without a rap, after living in luxury for a few years." "It seems cruelly unjust." "It does," returned Galbraith, thoughtfully; "and I always fancy poor old Travers must have found out some wrongdoing of hers to induce him to make so great a change in his intentions. My own idea," he went on, as if speaking to himself, "is that there must have been something going on between her and that clerk." "What clerk?" asked Kate, quietly. "Ford, the manager. He knew her before her marriage. - knew her well, from what he has admitted to me; and there was always something devilish queer, a sort of sentimental kind of restraint in his tone when speaking of her, that suggested the notion that all was not right. Then there was the five hundred pounds bequeathed to Ford in the first will, and never mentioned in the second. I think it is all very suspicious!" "What do you suspect?" said Kate, rising and taking a paper screen from the chimneypiece to shade her face. "Various delinquencies," returned Galbraith, with a grim smile. "Perhaps they agreed to marry, and share the money after the old fellow's death. If such a thing came to his knowledge and a stray letter or a moment's incaution might betray them-such a will as Travers left would be the best sort of revenge." "But have they married this Ford and your friend's widow?" asked Kate. 66 "No- not that I know of; though they may. I can hardly believe Ford to be as ignorant of her whereabouts as he pretends. They may have married privately, but in any case I do not think either can disturb me. I hope you are as safe to win your cause, whatever it may be, as I am in my possession!" "I should expect any wickedness from a woman base enough to plan marriage with another during her husband's lifetime." "Well, it is only my supposition, Mrs. Temple, and you must remember her perception of right and wrong was no doubt much less delicate and acute than that of a woman of your class. It is absurd to attribute the feelings and motives..of our grade to those in a lower strata.” "My class,' 'our grade,'" repeated Kate, turning her eyes full upon him. "What difference is there between your cousin's wife and myself? I keep a small shop- I let lodgings "With as fatal a result," put in Galbraith, an unusual sparkle of fun gleam ing in his eyes. The remark was irresistible. "Hush, hush," returned Kate, goodhumouredly, pleased at the lightness of his tone. "We have agreed to forget all temporary insanities; but why should not this lady-well, this young woman- not possess as keen a sense of honour as you credit me with? ?" "True; still why did you hate her? Did she injure you?" "She did. She extinguished the hopes of my whole life," returned Galbraith earnestly. "Travers always led me to suppose I was to be his heir, and I had perfect trust in his justice. He was as cold and dry and hard as a piece of granite, and he was a gentleman of the same blood as myself; if it did not sound absurd to talk of sympathy (I have picked up the word from you, Mrs. Temple), between two such men as Travers and my"Because it's not natural. She might self, I should say there was a good deal. be honest enough to keep from any wrong- I really felt like a son, or rather a younger doing during her husband's lifetime, but brother, towards him. If he had come to not have the delicacy to resist planning grief, I would have shared my last shilling what would do him no actual material with him; not as a mere duty, for I owed harm. It is the associations, the habits him that much, but gladly; and then to find of life, the tone of every one and every-him throwing me over for a mere bit of thing around that makes a gentlewoman vulgar prettiness, a girl nearly young what she is, or ought to be." "Ought to be' is well put in, Sir Hugh. Does nature, which is after all the groundwork for our embroideries forgive a professional illustration - does nature count for nothing? The true kindly instincts of the heart-and, remember, the highest good breeding is but the outward and visible sign of this inward grace I will often make the humblest woman act with both delicacy and tact. Have you never met with absolute vulgarity in high places? And let me assure you, though you choose to imagine me I scarce know what-my people are and were what I am, shopkeepers, not on a large scale." "I do not care what they were. I only know you look like a princess very slightly disguised." As Galbraith said this he leaned his arms upon the table, looking straight at her, pleasantly, frankly, but not in the least like a lover. "I claim to be more than a princess, whatever my faults may be," returned Kate, speaking softly as if to herself. "I claim to be a true-hearted woman." A silence ensued, which both felt to be dangerous, yet Galbraith dared not speak. At length Kate's thoughts, having shot along some curiously interwoven lines of association, suddenly stopped on the topic of Galbraith's antagonism. "But why have you so strong an antipathy to this woman this widow?" "I certainly had a very strong antipathy to her." "Had?" repeated Kate. "Is it, then, passed by?" "Well, yes; one generally feels more amiable to a defeated enemy." enough to be his granddaughter-not even a gentlewoman!-at his age! I never felt so disgusted, by heaven! I was as much cut up at having my respect for the old man destroyed, as at seeing my prospects go overboard. Nor do I believe Travers would ever have been so unjust, so unlike himself, if a strong pressure had not been brought to bear upon him. I think his ultimate action proves that he found he had made a mistake, and was anxious to atone. Still he must have had some strong reason for disinheriting the wife; and they lived peacefully together to the last. That is the strangest part of the story," added Galbraith, thoughtfully. “It is, indeed,” said Kate, who had listened with avidity and a beating heart to this long speech-unusually long for Galbraith—and now only forced herself to speak, lest her silence should permit him to wander from the subject. "I cannot, indeed, wonder at your hating this obnoxious woman." She was unconscious of the earnest, appealing gaze she poured into his eyes as she spoke, but it riveted his attention, and swept the wicked widow and his wrongs out of his thoughts. “Still," urged Kate, speaking soft and low, "she may have been innocent of any intention to harm you. She might have been very poor and desolate, as I think I suggested to you once before, and poverty is more terrible than you can know - real poverty. When your kinsman asked her to be his wife, she knew nothing of you or your hopes; she may never have influenced him against you. Are you sure that in your anger you did nothing to of fend this Mr. Travers?" How strange it was to speak thus of her dead husband | But I must have bored you with my afto her foe! fairs, Mrs. Temple. One of the privileges of friendship, you know. I can't tell how it is, but I think I talk more to you than to any one else." "Why, yes. I certainly wrote a letter on the spur of the moment which could not be exactly pleasant to him or the female he had been pleased to bestow his name on. But I don't regret it; I should do the same thing again. However, he did not like it, for he never replied, and I only heard vague reports of him for the next two or three years. Then came the news of his death, and of that infamous first will. The widow wrote me an insolent letter through her solicitors, offering me a third of the property as a free gift; but the idea of being under an obligation to her for what ought to have been my own, was more than I could stand," and Galbraith, warming with his subject, started up as if to pace the room; but its narrow limits forbade that favourite exercise, so he resumed his seat, and listened attentively to his companion's words. "It was not such an illiberal offer after all," she was saying, thoughtfully. "I grant that. It was more; it was rather an extraordinary offer, and meant to keep me quiet; for I fancy she knew the second will existed, or feared I might find a flaw in the first. Of course, had I agreed to accept her terms, I could have made no move against her under the first will; and no one could have foreseen that a curious accident should have led Ford to discover the second one. Fortunately he was an honest man, or, rather, rational enough not to risk a felony, so he handed it over to my solicitors or her solicitors, and it was all right." "For you-yes! Then, the sum of your opinion is, that this Mrs. Travers strove to alienate your benefactor's affections from you; was found out in some disgraceful intrigue; was ready to bribe you to silence, and to destroy the will made by her husband under the influence of his just indignation against her.” Yes; that is a tolerably accurate outline." "Never say again that you are an unimaginative_man, Sir Hugh Galbraith," said Mrs. Temple, slowly, in an altered voice. "You built up an ingenious theory on very small foundation.” "Perhaps so. I confess this woman's disappearance has puzzled me. Sometimes I think it shows that she is all right, with more in her than I gave her credit for. Sometimes I think her keeping out of my way a confession of guilt; still I don't like to think of her being in want or difficulty. And, by Jove, I will find her! "I am interested in your story, Sir Hugh, that is the reason. But I tell you candidly I am disposed to take sides with the widow against you." "That of course. You are always in opposition. Still I fancy I am right in the main. I have heard traits of Mrs. Travers - small indications of the current, that show she is grasping and selfish and mean. She cannot be so pretty either! Ford said she had reddish hair, and of course she was bad style.” "I suppose she was," said Kate, composedly; "but if she were to make any attempt to disturb you?" "Oh, fight every inch of ground. If my whole fortune went in law, she should have none of it." "Would you resist a just claim?" "It could not be just, you see. Nothing could upset the last will." Kate sighed. "I have been trespassing on you unconscionably," said Galbraith. "The shades of evening are closing, and I had better go. If you admit me to-morrow, I will promise not to prose about myself." "To-morrow," returned Kate, dreamily. "Are you coming to-morrow?" "Yes, of course,” cried Galbraith, boldly, though for half a second he had hesitated whether he should say so, or ask permission to come. "I hope to bring you your money to-morrow. solicitor of yours to return?" "To-morrow, I hope," said Kate, with a sigh. When is this "I suspect you will be in the down-belows until you see him." "And perhaps after," she said, smiling. "Good-bye, Sir Hugh." "The fight will be a bitter one," thought Kate, as she sat alone after her tea. "But I am bound to carry it through. In justice to myself I must show that my poor husband never for a moment doubted me. I wonder if Hugh Galbraith's friendship" -even in her thoughts she emphasized " friendship”—"will stand the test of discovering my identity with the female to whom his cousin was pleased to give his name! Will not the surreptitious winning of his-well, regard, be my crowning iniquity? Oh, Hugh! I do not want to rob you of what ought, indeed, to be your own." But Monday brought no Mr. Wall, nor | had said, followed it up in Westermann's Tuesday, nor Wednesday; nevertheless Magazine by another and a very sensathey brought Hugh Galbraith with almost tional memoir of the same person. The undeviating regularity to the commonplace new version turning out to be even less little cottage, which was a corner of para- trustworthy than the first one, several dise, though an uneasy paradise to him. men, in different periodicals, one in a sepKate felt a little worried by his visits. arate book, fell on Stahr, and having deShe felt she ought not to allow them; but nied his facts, and torn his arguments to she was an exceedingly unconventional | shreds, brought forth, instead of these, woman, and a fearless one. Moreover, other facts and arguments of their own. she was interested in her visitor. She After which, they partly pulled each other did not acknowledge it to herself, but she to pieces. It would be rash to say that, would have missed him. There was a by these labours of theirs, many new subtle pleasure to her in the sense that facts in the history of literature, strictly she was charming to him; that Kate Tem- so called, have been brought to light, ple was thus revenging the injuries of or that we have been much furthered Catherine Travers. Yet she did not in- on our way to a knowledge and underintend any cruelty, any real revenge. standing of the life and writings of Goethe. "When he knows who I am, he will find We have been confirmed in what we knew the knowledge sufficiently repulsive to about Goethe before; the faculty for ungive me no more trouble," she thought; derstanding him will most likely be found and if he is brought to confess that he mainly in the reader. There are in Gerdid Mrs. Travers injustice, he may agree many very many men of letters who, when to reasonable arrangements with Mrs. they fondly and painstakingly dwell on the Temple." events that are known to have been the occasions for many of Goethe's poems, and on the circumstances under which these poems were written, seem to think that they have got hold, not of a lamp, or an eye-glass, or a key, but of the thing itself, so to speak, without its accidental shape! Even so when they talk of the "originals" to characters of his-they draw the likeness and they tell us the history of certain persons of real life, and they mix up biographical details with reflections on the changes that these have undergone in the poet's hands, and with guesses at the relation in which the poet may have stood to his models, till we begin to fear that they are going to do his work over again in prose. It is very true that nearly all Goethe's works of imagination are, in the fullest sense of the word, his confessions. But what he confesses is surely not a succession of events in his life; it is rather the sense of want, the desire, the longing that events have failed to satisfy. The substance of each such poem is just that which was wanting in the occurrences of actual life. And like every other artist, he creates his own heroes and heroines. No one will deny that the characters of Goethe's fictions wear the features of persons of real life, many of whom were very dear to him. Perhaps for this reason he was so fond of the children of his fancy; in the weal and woe of some of them, as they grew up under his hand, he took the part of a father. But why, or how, in what fashion, or measure, people whom he had known, It was very strange to have him sitting there familiarly with her by the fireside in the dusk of the October evenings, just as he might have sat with her in her more stately home had he come back from India on good terms with her husband. No, not exactly. Hugh Galbraith would never have permitted his eyes and voice to speak the language they often did, friendship notwithstanding, had he known her as his cousin's wife; and as she thought so, her heart leaped up in a great throb of delight to know that she was free. It was very strange to be thus swept by the eddy of her life's current into this still pool for an instant's rest before she was hurried on again into the rapids. Strange, but also delightful-more delightful than she confessed even to herself. But then it was only an instant's lull. It must not, should not, last longer. From The Contemporary Review. GOETHE AND MINNA HERZLIEB. A FEW years ago Adolf Stahr of Berlin, writing a book on the female characters of Goethe, and thinking to put Mr. Lewes (whom he followed) right in some points, gave us an account of Minna Herzlieb, as the original of the Ottilie of "The Elective Affinities" and the person to whom the sonnets are addressed. The book had not been long in print, when its author, finding out that he was in the wrong in what he |