with Mrs. Yesey, while Sir Percival came to me.
He said he had entreated her to favour him by
maintaining her privilege of fixing the time for
the marriage at her own will and pleasure. In
reply, she had merely expressed her
acknowledgments, and had desired him to mention
what his wishes were to Miss Halcombe.

I have no patience to write more. In this
instance, as in every other, Sir Percival has carried
his point, with the utmost possible credit to
himself, in spite of everything that l can say or do. His
wishes are now, what they were, of course, when
he first came here; and Laura having resigned
herself to the one inevitable sacrifice of the
marriage, remains as coldly hopeless and enduring
as ever. In parting with the little occupations
and relics that reminded her of Hartright, she
seems to have parted with all her tenderness and
all her impressibility. It is only three o'clock in
the afternoon while I write these lines, and Sir
Percival has left us already, in the happy hurry
of a bridegroom, to prepare for the bride's
reception at his house in Hampshire. Unless
some extraordinary event happens to prevent it,
they will be married exactly at the time when
he wished to be married—before the end of the
year. My very fingers burn as I write it!

12th.—A sleepless night, through uneasiness
about Laura. Towards the morning, I came to
a resolution to try what change of scene would
do to rouse her. She cannot surely remain in
her present torpor of insensibility, if I take her
away from Limmeridge and surround her with
the pleasant faces of old friends? After some
consideration, I decided on writing to the
Arnolds, in Yorkshire. They are simple, kind-
hearted, hospitable people; and she has known
them from her childhood. When I had put the
letter in the post-bag, I told her what I had done.
It would have been a relief to me if she had
shown the spirit to resist and object. But no—
she only said, "I will go anywhere with you,
Marian. I dare say you are right—I dare say
the change will do me good."

13th.—I wrote to Mr. Gilmore, informing him
that there was really a prospect of this miserable
marriage taking place, and also mentioning my
idea of trying what change of scene would do
for Laura. I had no heart to go into particulars.
Time enough for them, when we get nearer to the
end of the year.

14th.—Three letters for me. The first, from
the Arnolds, full of delight at the prospect of
seeing Laura and me. The second, from one of
the gentlemen to whom I wrote on Walter
Hartright's behalf, informing me that he has been
fortunate enough to find an opportunity of
complying with my request. The third, from Walter
himself; thanking me, poor fellow, in the
warmest terms, for giving him an opportunity
of leaving his home, his country, and his friends.
A private expedition to make excavations among
the ruined cities of Central America is, it seems,
about to sail from Liverpool, The draughtsman

who had been already appointed to accompany
it, has lost heart, and withdrawn at the eleventh
hour; and Walter is to fill his place. He is to
be engaged for six months certain, from the time
of the landing in Honduras, and for a year
afterwards, if the excavations are successful,
and if the funds hold out. His letter ends with
a promise to write me a farewell line, when they
are all on board ship, and when the pilot
leaves them. I can only hope and pray earnestly
that he and I are both acting in this matter for
the best. It seems such a serious step for him
to take, that the mere contemplation of it startles
me. And yet, in his unhappy position, how can
I expect him, or wish him, to remain at home?

15th.—The carriage is at the door. Laura
and I set out out on our visit to the Arnolds
to-day.

*****

Polesdean Lodge, Yorkshire.
23rd.—A week in these new scenes, and
among these kind-hearted people, has done her
some good, though not so much as I had hoped.
I have resolved to prolong our stay for another
week at least. It is useless to go back to
Limmeridge, till there is an absolute necessity for
our return.

24th.—Sad news by this morning's post.
The expedition to Central America sailed on the
twenty-first. We have parted with a true man;
we have lost a faithful friend. Walter Hartright
has left England.

25th.—Sad news yesterday: ominous news
to-day. Sir Percival Glyde has written to Mr.
Fairlie; and Mr. Fairlie has written to Laura
and me, to recal us to Limmeridge immediately.

What can this mean? Has the day for the
marriage been fixed in our absence?

THE SCHOOLMASTER ALL ABROAD.

WE have Government Schoolmasters,
appointed by Order in Council, "to ascertain that
the candidate (for government employment)
possesses the requisite knowledge and ability for
the proper discharge of his official duties."
Happy people that we are! The right man is to
be, at last, in the right place, everywhere.
Every tide-waiter shall be the model of all
that a tide-waiter ought to be. No porters
shall sit in those snug chairs—which look
like sections of dilapidated diving-bells—in the
halls of government offices, who cannot stroke
their calves complacently, and defy the jealous
people without to point to finer models.
Temporary clerks shall, for some eighty pounds a
year (to begin with), show themselves on a par
with Whateley, Professor de Morgan, and Dr.
Faraday. Cooley shall look up to them as
geographers, and their dashing treatment of
figures shall pale the fame of Cocker himself.

Three great national schoolmasters have been
appointed to sweep the old dirt from the vast