while: "Arthur Felton never was here. Mrs.
Carruthers never saw him. For a moment I
fancied he might have been Paul Ward."

"I wonder what I shall think of George
Dallas?" thought Clare, as she rode away from
Poynings in the afternoon, having given Thomas
the necessary orders. "I wonder what he will
think of me? I dare say he does not like the
idea of me much. Perhaps I should not like
the idea of him, if he were in my place and I in
his; but, as it is, I decidedly do."

Attended by her maid and Thomas, Miss
Carruthers went to London on the following
day. Mrs. Stanhope met her at the railway
station, and took her home with her. The
footman was despatched to Sir Thomas Boldero's
house in Chesham-place. In the course of the
evening he went to Mrs. Stanhope's house, and
asked to see Clare. His errand was to inform
her that Mr. Felton and Mr. Dallas had arrived
in London, and were particularly desirous of
seeing Miss Carruthers. He (Thomas) had Mr.
Felton's orders to ascertain from Miss
Carruthers whether she would see them, on the
following day, at Chesham-place, and if so, at
what hour. He was to take her answer to Mr.
Felton's lodgings in Piccadilly.

"When did the gentlemen arrive?" Miss
Carruthers asked.

Thomas could not say exactly, but he thought
they had only just reached London. They had
overcoats on, and looked "travellers-like."

Clare sent word to Mr. Felton that she
would be at Chesham-place at noon on the next
day, and would be very happy to see him. She
did not mention Mr. Dallas, but it was by no
means necessary she should do so.

Punctually at twelve on the following day,
Mrs. Stanhope's brougham deposited Clare
Carruthers at Sir Thomas Boldero's house. It
was in process of preparation for the expected
guests; but had not quite thrown off the drowsy
unoccupied look of a house whose owners are
absent. Its appearance bore the same relation
to the state it would assume by-and-by as that
of an individual who has just persuaded himself
to rise, and is yawning and shivering in the
process, bears to that of the same individual in
his tubbed, dressed, shaved, breakfasted,
newspaper-read, hatted, gloved, and ready-for-the-
day condition.

Clare got out of the carriage, gave the coachman
some directions, stood at the door until he
had driven off, and made a remark or two (ever
reminiscent of Poynings punctiliousness)
relative to the area-railings and door-steps to
Thomas before she entered the house, He
listened gravely, promised to attend to these
matters, and then said:

"Mr. Dallas has been here some time,
ma'am."

"lndeed!" said Clare, pausing just inside
the hall door. "Is Mr. Felton not here?"

"He will be here directly, ma'am. He came
with Mr. Dallas, but went away again. I
showed Mr. Dallas into the study, ma'am."

Clare felt rather embarrassed. She wished
Mrs. Stanhope had been with her—she wished
Mr. Felton had remained until she came, or had
taken his nephew with him. It was so awkward
to have to introduce herself to George Dallas,
a stranger, and yet not exactly a stranger.
She hesitated; her colour rose. What should
she do? What was not the easiest or pleasantest
thing to do—for that would be to go to the
drawing-room and remain there until Mr. Felton
should come, leaving Mr. Dallas to a similar
vigil in the study—but the kindest. Clearly,
to give Mrs. Carruthers's son the friendliest
greeting in her power, to show him, in her little
way, how pleased she was at the family reunion,
how much she desired to be numbered among
his friends.

The study windows faced the street; he had
probably seen the carriage, and heard her voice.
He might be even now hurt by her tarrying.

Clare delayed no longer. She crossed the
hall, opened the door of Sir Thomas Boldero's
study, saw a man's figure close to one of the
windows, shut the door, took two or three steps,
and said, in the sweet, gentle tone which was
one of her peculiar charms:

"Mr. Dallas, I am so much pleased."

Then the figure turned away from the window,
and Clare found herself in the presence
of Paul Ward.

UNDERGROUND TO RICHMOND.

THIS term of "Underground Route" may
appear to signify some tubular arrangement for
tunnelling beneath the waters of the Potomac,
but does no more than typify the secret way in
which Southern sympathisers were conveyed,
during the recent civil war in The States,
from the shores of Maryland to the Virginia
banks of the Potomac.

As no representative of the British press
could reach and accompany the Southern army,
the accounts of its proceedings which reached
Europe were untrustworthy filtrations through
the columns of the New York press. Therefore
my Baltimore friends took an eager interest in
the success of my expedition, which was
undertaken in connexion with newspaper
correspondence.

The whole thing was planned after this fashion:
A gentleman, well known to both North and
South, and unsuspected by the former, was
leaving Baltimore by the West River steamer.
My appearance had been accurately described
to him, and his photograph had been sent to me.
I was told that a carriage would be waiting at
my door at five o'clock in the morning, to
convey me to the wharf where I should find a
vessel blowing off her steam and ready to cast
off for her journey. On this steamer my
unknown associate would be awaiting me, but I
was especially warned not to address him—
merely to follow his movements. A sign was
given to me by which we could make positive
of each other's identity.