you would be there. I've not got money enough to pay him.”

"That's all I've got," said Oliver, giving him sevenpence. “I'm very sorry, but I really must

go."

"I say, mind your promise, then."

Oliver had run several yards towards home before the last words had been shouted by his companion, and he reached the window, and got back into the library unseen and unheard, he thought; but he had not been quite as fortunate in this particular as he imagined; for it so happened that Margaret had looked out of the window of a little lumber-room at the top of the house, to which she had gone in search of an old shawl, which she intended to take to a poor woman in the village that afternoon. What was her dismay to see Oliver, whom she believed to be in the library, running across the park from a distance! She was so excessively surprised that she seemed. unable to move from the spot where she stood, even when he was hidden by the trees, had gained the house, and ceased to be in sight. She remained some minutes deep in thought, then slowly went down stairs, pausing once or twice, as though wishing to be quite sure of having taken sufficient time for deciding what she ought to do. Then she opened the library-door, and Oliver started up from the sofa on which he had been sitting, as if she had detected him in some crime. He looked

at her. She went up to him, and quietly taking him by the arm she led him towards a chair on which she sat down.

"Oliver," she said, "when your mamma left England, she asked me to come here to be with you and your sisters; she wished me to teach you what was right, and to take care of you, and keep you out of harm. She wished you to obey me, and to pay attention to my wishes. She left you in my charge; and you know, Oliver, that it will grieve her very much if I have to tell her you have been disobedient to me, and have behaved very wrongly. I thought you would have remained in this room, and learnt your poetry. I thought, after what happened yesterday, you would have tried very hard to please me to-day, and I hoped I should not again be obliged to punish you; but you have now done so extremely wrong a thing, that, unless you can give me any good reason as an excuse for such strange conduct, I must of course punish you severely. Oliver, I saw you just now running across the park. Where had you been?"

His lips quivered; it was with great difficulty he prevented himself from crying.

Margaret waited. At last she said, "If you have been tempted to do something or other of which you are ashamed, don't be afraid to tell me what it is. Only think how grieved your mother would be. Tell me, what is it which makes you keep what you have been about so secret? If you have

done wrong, be a brave, manly boy, and confess it, even though you think I may be angry with you."

By this time he was sobbing, but she could not induce him to speak. So at length, taking him by the hand, she led him up to the nursery, and in a grave but firm tone she told Mrs. Watson he had displeased her very much indeed, and that she was obliged to punish him.

"I wish him to remain in the nursery," she said. "He must have his tea here, and go to bed at eight o'clock. If he wishes to speak to me you can send me word, and I will come to him, but he must not himself come back to the school-room to-day."

She said, "Very

Mrs. Watson was very sorry. well, ma'am, I will do as you wish," and Margaret left the room. She was perplexed and grieved. It was a great distress to her always to have either to punish or find fault with the children, and she reproached herself for not having been more watchful over Oliver's proceedings during his play-hours.

"You and Fanny may go down to your gardens, and stay there for the present," she said to Maude. "I don't think I shall take you for any walk this afternoon."

When they were gone she went to the carpenter's shop, to endeavour to find out from the carpenters whether they knew any thing of Oliver's mysterious proceedings, but they could throw no light at all upon the subject. The keeper with

whom he was allowed to fish, and whom he was a good deal with at times, was away that day. All her efforts were fruitless, and very unhappy she felt. Oliver did not send for her. Mrs. Watson told her he seemed pretty comfortable till bedtime, and then she heard him crying.

"I must get to the bottom of the mystery," said Margaret. "I have been thinking whether he can have made some acquaintance of which he is ashamed. Is there any boy in the neighbourhood with whom he can have got into a scrape, do you

think?"

Mrs. Watson thought and thought, but ended by shaking her head in the negative; she knew of

no one.

M

ence.

CHAPTER XVI.

"Oh! teach him, while your lessons last,
To judge the present by the past."

ARGARET found it useless to attempt to persuade Oliver to confess his secret, or assign any motive for his strange conduct. She was thoroughly puzzled. His determined resistance surprised her greatly. He seemed to be trying her strength against his own, testing his powers of resistance, and hers of enforcing obediThe whole thing was so unexpected, too; but she thought she ought to have foreseen it, and she reproached herself for not having observed that a storm was gathering. She tried to recollect what particular proofs of impatience of control or inclination to rebel Oliver had shown latterly. She felt half frightened and really wretched all the evening, and very little sleep had she that night. She woke with a hope that the coming day would throw some light on what at present seemed so dark.

Dinner was over, and the two girls had begun to prepare for going out walking; Margaret was standing near the window, thinking what steps she ought

M