Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

ARCHER'S PROPOSAL. 353
looking for a place to die in. They are all cold and draughty,
and won't do. I have come back to Casterton. I must stay
here at present on your account, and I am in mortal fear of
dying here. Nothing, remember, can be more unmannerly or
rude than falling ill and dying in another man's house. I know
that I should resent such a proceeding myself as a deliberate
affront, and I therefore would not do it for the world.
"You must come here to me instantly; do you hear? I am
keeping the breach for you at all sacrifices. Until you come, I
am to be trundled about this foggy valley in pony carriages
through the day, and talk myself hoarse all the evening, all for
your sake. A cousin of Mary Corby's has come from Australia.
He is very handsome, clever, and gentlemanly, and I am afraid
she is getting very fond of him.
" This must not be, my dear boy. Now our dear Charles is
gone, you must, if possible, marry her. It is insufferable that
we should have another disappointment from an interloper. I
don't blame you for not having come before. You were quite
right, but don't lose a moment now. Leave these boys of yours.
The dirty little rogues must get on for a time without you.
Don't think that I sneer at the noble work that you and your
uncle are doing, - God Almighty forbid; but you must leave it
for a time, and come here.
" Don't argue or procrastinate, but come. I cannot go on
being driven all over the country in November to keep him out
of the way. Besides, if you don't come soon, I shall have finished all my true stories, and have to do what I have never done
yet, - to lie. So make haste, my dear boy.
"Yours affectionately,
"SALTIRE."
On the second day from this Lord Saltire was driven to Medmenham by George Corby, and prophesied to him about it.
When they neared home, Lord Saltire grew distraught for the
first time, and looked eagerly towards the terrace. As they
drove up, John Marston ran down the steps to meet them. Lord
Saltire said, " Thank God! " and walked up to the hall door between the two young men.
"Are you staying in London? " said George Corby.
"Yes; I am living in London," said John Marston. "An
uncle of mine, a Moravian missionary from Australia, is working
at a large ragged school in the Borough, and I am helping him."
"You don't surely mean James Smith?" said Corby.
"Indeed I do."
"Your uncle? Well, that is very strange. I know him very
well. My father fought his battle for him when he was at variw