THE PANELLED HOUSE.

205

there was a perplexed, pathetic look in the mouth,
very different from what the girl’s bright serenity had
been. She carried the story of her trouble legibly
impressed upon her features for those wko had
eyes to read it. It is quiet, reserved people like
hers whose faces are generally moulded by the
story of their lives, rather than the quick and im-
pulsive; the trouble sinks deep into the heart of
such, and works a change on their whole being,
for they cannot throw it off like the others.

“How are you, Nest?” said the deep pleasant
voice at her side.
the tall figure and long grey moustache and beard.

“Colonel Armyn! Oh, Iam so glad!” as they
clasped hands in a warm, friendly hand-shake.

“JT wanted to find you alone,” said Colonel
Armyn, after a littie general talk. “ The fact is,

Nest, Tam afraid I have got to talk to you on a|

painful subject; will you forgive me if I am
clumsy about it ?” .

“Yes, certainly,” said Nest, but he felt the
little inward shrink which his words gave her, and
the quick catch of the breath.

*“ The fact is,” said Colonel Armyn, looking not
at her but out at sea, “my Flora has—I mean Mr.
Anderson wrote to me this morning, proposing for
her.
distressing you about a delicate subject.
go on?”

“ Yes, please.”

“T hear that you parted by mutual consent.
Now of course I don’t want to pry into your
secrets; but I am not at all inclined to give him
every thing he wants if he did not treat you well.
You would not mind telling me if you suspected
his attachment to Flora ?”

“Yes, I did,” said Nest.

“Then I am afraid that he treated you ill,
though you are too generous to say so, my dear.”

“JT don’t think he meant to treat me ill,” said
Nest. ‘He ought to have known his own mind
better before he made me like him,”—her voice
faltered a little——‘‘ but I don’t think he meant it.
He had not seen Flora then.”

“And it was during her visit at the Panelled
House that he transferred his affections ?” said
Colonel Armyn, looking gloomy.

“Yes,” said Nest. Then with a great effort,
she spoke hurriedly, “All the same, I hope he
and Flora will be happy.
stand in their way. He is nothing to me now, he
never could be any thing. Of course he will
marry some day, and I hope Flora and he will be

Shall I

at her throat and a dry voice.

“Nest, I do not like to ask it,” said Colonel
|Armyn, “but there is only one thing which would |
wmake it impossible for me to give my consent fo |

She looked round, and beheld |

Now you see that I am afraid I can’t help |

You must not let me |

happy,” she repeated again, with a terrible aching |

| this. If I thought that Flora had wilfully come
between you—but she could not have been so dis-
honourable as that. It is very unfortunate that all
this entanglement should have occurred,” he went
on, to Nest’s great relief, without waiting for an
answer, “and I hope you will forgive me the pain
of having troubled you with this. I see nothing
for it but to let it go on,” he said, doubtfully.

“TT hope you will act just as you would if I were
out of the way,” said Nest, “It was an unfortunate
mistake of his, and of course it has made me
unhappy ; but I don’t want him to see it all his
life,” she added, with a little watery smile.

“T hope you are getting over it,” said Colonel
| Armyn, with a mixture of wistfulness and penitence
for having entered upon the subject.

“Yes, thank you,” said Nest wearily. Then
with the sudden instinct of disburdening her mind,
“The worst is—if you won’t think me very silly
for talking about it,’—(Colonel Armyn said only
an emphatic “No!”)—“TI am afraid it has made
me very wicked. I used to believe in every body
and every thing J saw; and now, since this has
happened to me, I feel as if there was something
in my mind that would sneer at it all. I never felt
it before, and I know it is very wicked. But I
seem as if I could not believe in any body being
true or good now I know that Edward was—not
what I used to think him.”

Nest’s eyes were full of tears as she spoke.
The impulse of confession was strong upon her,
and she went on—‘ And it’s not only that, though
that is bad enough. I feel even as if I couldn’t
say my prayers properly—it seems so hard that my
life should be spoilt like this when it was not my
own fault at all. Colonel Armyn,” she said, as he
| sat silently listening, “can’t you help me? I
thought if any one could, you could, because of
what you did—in the Mutiny, you know.” He
| looked puzzled, and she.grew shy and desperate.
| I mean, when you would not give up your

Christianity to save your life; I thought you must
107

know

“ My dear child, I am the last person you should
come to for advice,” he said kindly. “TI can only
tell you what was my own experience—not at the
time you mean, which was a very small thing, and
only needed a strong resolve to carry one through
a quarter of an hour’s trial, after which there was
no choice for me. I mean in the later time—after
my poor wife’s death, when I had to leave the
army, and take the children to England, and my
life, too, seemed utterly spoiled and wrecked.”

Nest waited eagerly for more.

“T am not holding myself up as an example, you
understand. I have been far enough away from
that all my life,” said the Colonel hurriedly.
“Only as you ask me how I got out of it—well,