"What can it mean?" said Jessie, “it must be for papa," and she looked at the envelope, exclaiming to her brother, who was the only other occupant of the room, "I beg your pardon, Bob. It is addressed to Lieutenant Robert Clayton."

"Who is he?" asked Bob in an agitated voice, pointing to the signature of the note. Jessie opened her grey eyes in astonishment. "Don't you know him? Sir James Weston is one of Violet's guardians."

"Give me a sheet of paper," said Bob; and seizing the one his sister produced, he wrote a few hasty lines and gave them to the messenger, and then left the room, to his sister's great amazement, without saying anything.

When Bob arrived at the Hall, and asked for Sir James Weston, he was shown at once to a small room where that gentleman was awaiting him; and offering his visitor a chair, he commenced at once,—

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'Mr. Clayton, I have just returned from London, where I was summoned to the sick

bed of a nephew of mine-Ralph Weston—a messmate of yours, I believe?"

Bob bowed.

"The lad's mother sent for me, saying her son had something on his mind which he wished: to confide to me. I found that the 'something' consisted of his inability to pay a debt of a hundred pounds, and that he had involved you in the scrape by getting you to put your name on a bill. Is that so?

"It is, sir."

"Well, now, I wonder what you both suppose is going to happen?'

"I cannot speak for my friend, Sir James; but I owe him ten pounds; the debt of one hundred was his, and I had the folly to think I was doing him a kindness by signing the bill. My brother is the only other person to whom I have spoken of this. If he can help me he will; if not, I can do nothing, for I cannot ask my father to meet such a debt."

"Your father! I should think not, sir. A pretty thing if country Vicars were to be called on to pay the gambling debts of their sons' messmates!"

Bob waited a minute, and then rose, saying in the dull, depressed voice which was so unlike his own:

"Nothing more can be said, Sir James; three

days only remain, and if I can't meet it, I must bear the consequences.

Yes, the consequences-ruined in your profession, and bringing misery to your good mother! That's the way youngsters like you play at skittles with your chances in life. However," and the old man drew out his pocket-book and opened it in a leisurely manner, "if you will give me your word as an officer and a gentleman, that you will never put your name on a bill again, I'll show you what will be the best way of settling the matter."

"You have it, sir; I promise on my honour."

Then, young man, take that home with you, and carry the remembrance of this difficulty about with you to stave off future scrapes.

And in Bob's hand was the bill he had signed, and joyous relief shone in his countenance. He grasped the old baronet's hand gratefully, and then ran madly all the way to the station, where he telegraphed to Alick : "It is paid. Come down and be jolly!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WEDDING bells are commonly called merry, although sometimes the epithet is a sore sarcasm on the circumstances that have called for the chime; but the bells that rang on Violet's wedding day had the good old joyous ring, and the faces of all who were or were not concerned in the eventful ceremony-all who came within reach of the sound of those bells,spoke of happiness and contentment.

From an early hour that morning in September crowds of villagers were about, watching the final touches given to wondrous floral arches, and big baskets full of cut flowers were distributed in smaller baskets to the school girls of Cray, and the children from Apple-tree Farm, who were to scatter them in the path of the bride. It was such a superb day, so full of sunshine and genial warmth, that the bridal arrangements were those of walking to the little

old church where the ceremony was held, and a more beautiful sight could scarcely have been seen than that of the lovely young bride followed by six bridesmaids, and leaning on the arm of her guardian Sir James Weston. The grand old hall at Glenmore was crowded with brilliant guests; and when the procession formed and wended its way under the limes to the church, it was a most imposing sight. The church was so small that scarcely any could enter but the invited guests; but the fact of the bridal party walking enabled the humblest villagers to see their countess in her fair white robes; and when the joyous bells rung out, and she reappeared leaning on her husband's arm, ringing shouts and cheers joined with the bells in rejoicing. Such bright happiness was in Violet's face, as she looked up at her husband when passing the Apple-tree Farm children, that some of the Cray grumblers began to allow that it had not been such a bad thing after all, housing these poor little waifs.

Amongst the many guests at the wedding banquet were of course the Norman family; and it was remarkable how very gracious Mrs. Norman was to Alick; and while that hand