and could only come to the conclusion that his
London house was the proper place for his wife
to live in, and that, until matters were cleared
up between them, he would vacate their
comfortable home, and try to induce her to take up
her abode in town. He therefore at once wrote
to her to that effect, saying:

"However much appearances may be against
me, believe me when I say, on my word of
honour, that I am perfectly innocent of what
you suspect. I will only ask one thing of you.
Come back here as if nothing had happened.
As it seems your determination that we should
separate, I am the one who ought to leave our
home. I don't wonder at what you have done,
all I ask of you is to suspend your judgment
until I have time to write a letter and receive an
answer from India, when I pledge myself that
you will find me perfectly innocent of
anything but a somewhat inconsiderate consent
to a very foolish request."

To Colonel Laber he wrote differently.
After giving him an exact account of all that
had happened, he concluded by begging that
at any rate to his own wife he might be at
liberty to tell all about the two young ladies
whose guardianship he had undertaken. "It
is utterly impossible for me to remain silent
under the present imputation cast upon me," he
went on to say, " and you, my dear Laber, are
the only man who can relieve me from it.
Even if you object to the world at large
knowing that these girls are your illegitimate
daughters, surely it would do you no harm,
and the young ladies a vast deal of good, if at
any rate one lady was acquainted with them,
and could tender them the assistance and
advice which only one of their own sex can
offer. If you agree to my telling Annie all
the history of which I have had for some
months the exclusive knowledge, telegraph to
me the word ' yes;' if you still adhere to your
determination of keeping the whole affair secret,
the word "no" will acquaint me with your
decision. But in the event of your persevering
in the latter course, I must ask you to find
another guardian for your girls, for I must leave
England for good. I cannot remain in this
country to be pointed at as an old roué, who at
sixty years of age is faithless to his own wife,
and has taken in his old age to a course of life
of which he was innocent during his married
youth and prime of life. I will keep your
secret if you desire it, but it must be as an
exile."

Milson had so much experience of his wife's
good sense, that he was hardly surprised,
although greatly pleased, when she wrote him
from Brighton that his word was quite sufficient
for her, and that she would return to London,
take up her abode again with him, and wait for
the reply to the letter of which he spoke
"Whatever happens," she wrote, " I will never
be the first to create a scandal when you
assure me that you are not guilty of what the
world charges on you. I will not only return to
town, but it would be better, if for a time, we
were to silence people by being seen more
together than ever in public, and I have no
doubt that in due time this mystery will be
cleared up."

And it was cleared up. The telegram from
Colonel Laber only reached London a week
before his letter, but it contained the word
' yes," and that very afternoon Sir John and
Lady Milson drove down to Kensington and
brought back the two girls and their governess
to dinner. The Miss Fabers now go
everywhere with Lady Milson, and it is believed
that she has written to their father to say that
if he will come home, and give up the idea of
saving more money for their use, her husband
and herself will adopt the girls during their life,
and make them their heirs when they die. At
any rate, the colonel-- now major-general-- is
coming home, for his name is " up " for election
at the Oriental Club, and Sir John Milson is
ten years a younger man than he was six
months ago. He is, however, of opinion, that
had the untimely meeting at the Crystal Palace
not taken place, he would not even yet be rid
of his troubles; for he never would have
persuaded his old friend to allow him to tell
Lady Milson the very foolish secret of which
he was the unwilling recipient, and the still
more unwilling guardian.

EARLY WOOING

I.

INDULGING in a retrospect,
    My memory discovers
A time, that you may recollect,
    When you and I were lovers.
And, I remember well, you were
   The best of little creatures,
With locks that clustered, thick and fair,
   Round undeveloped features.

II.

Then you, my winsome little Fan,
   As yet were barely seven;
And I a weather-beaten man
   Of very near eleven,
Not much renown'd for anything,
    A stranger to ecstatics,
Extremely fond of cricketing,
   And not of mathematics.

III.

Such sympathy as you would show
   I ne'er encounter'd after;
You wept right sore when I was low,
   When happy, shook with laughter;
When I was punish'd, to my pain
   Such kisses you accorded,
I hoped I should be flogged again
   To be so well rewarded.

IV.

The day was fix'd-- that is, I mean,
   We vow'd, with kisses plenty,
To wed, when you were seventeen,
   And I was one-and-twenty.
This sad delay was the result
   Of calculations narrow:
I thought it might be difficult
    To keep a wife at Harrow.