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any interest; and in spite of the disagreeable haze prevailing, she walked out there till she reached the well-known corner. Every blade of grass was weighted with little liquid globes, and slugs and snails had crept ont upon the plots. She could hear the usual faint noises from the camp, and in the other direction the trot of farmers on the road to the town, for it was market-day. She observed that her frequent visite to this corner had quite trodden down the grass in the angle of the wall, and left marks of garden soil on the stepping-stones by which she had mounted to look over the top. Seldom having gone there till dusk, she had not considered that her traces might be visible by day. Perhaps it was these which had revealed her trysts to her father.

While she paused in melancholy regard, she fancied that the customary sounds from the tents were changing their character. Indifferent as Phyilis was to camp doings now, she mounted by the steps to the old place. What she beheld at first awed and perplexed her; then she stood rigid, her fingers hooked to the wall, her eyes staring out of her head, and her face as if hardened to stone.

On the open green stretching before her all the regiments in the camp were drawn up in line, in the mid-front of which two empty coffing lay on the ground. The unwonted sounds which she had noticed came from an advancing procession, It consisted of the band of the York Hussars playing a dead march; next two soldiers of that regiment in a mourning -coach, guarded on each side, and accompanied by two priests. Behind came a crowd of rustics who had been attracted by the event, The melancholy procession marched along the front of the line, returned to the centre, and haited beside the coffins, where the two condemned men were blindfolded, and each placed kneeling on