entered the room.

"Yes, it is my friend Edward Armstrong," he exclaimed, as the gentleman he addressed rose with surprise to receive his visitor. "I only learnt the name of our hero from Dr. Freeman this morning; I had no idea that the gentleman whose intrepidity and courage is the talk of the place was the son of my good friend, Farmer Armstrong."

Edward smiled as he shook hands with the friend whom he had known from a boy, but there was a languor in his movements, and a pallor on the cheeks, very unusual in the active man of business, which the doctor's quick eye soon detected.

"Are you feeling any ill effects from your exertions last evening?" he asked.

"No," was the reply; "unless a feeling of laziness and disinclination to move may be ranked among ill effects."

"Well, not exactly," said Dr. Anson, "although what you complain of is no doubt caused by exhaustion and excitement. At all events, you must extend your holiday and rest here for a day or two longer; such a sea-bath as yours produces effects which are not so easily got over."

At this moment the door was pushed open slightly, and through the opening appeared a rosy face, brown curls, and a pair of dark eyes which looked with curiosity at the two gentlemen.

"Ah, Charlie," said the doctor, "is that you? Come in and say how d'ye do to the gentleman that fished you out of the water yesterday."

Little Charlie Herbert boldly advanced, and standing before Mr. Armstrong held out his chubby hand and said, "Thank 'oo for saving me from being drowned."

Edward lifted the boy on his knee and kissed him, while the doctor asked—

"Who sent you here, Charlie?"

"Mrs. Lake," he replied, "and I've said what she told me to say to the gentleman."

The doctor smiled as he rose, and shaking hands with his friend he said—

"I must leave you now to pay my visit upstairs. Edward, keep the boy here for awhile; you cannot have better company."

CHAPTER III.

A SOCIAL DILEMMA.

While Edward Armstrong was becoming better acquainted with the little nephew of Maria St. Clair, Dr. Anson was attempting the cure of a disease far more difficult to subdue than any in the whole catalogue of the various "ills which flesh is heir to"—a mental disease called pride.

He found his patient in a fair way for complete recovery. Her restless anxiety to thank the strange gentleman who had saved her, had made her mother give way to her wish to be dressed, and she now sat in an easy-chair, looking pale certainly, but apparently suffering only from exhaustion.

"Up and dressed? upon my word!" said Dr. Anson. "I was not prepared for such a speedy recovery as this."

"I feel almost as well as ever, doctor," she said, "only a little weak and tired; but I cannot rest till mamma and all of us have thanked the gentleman who saved me and little Charlie. Mrs. Lake says he is quite well this morning, and talks of going back to London to-morrow, so if we are to see him and thank him personally, it must be to-day."

"All right, my dear," said the doctor; "there will be no difficulty in asking my friend Mr. Edward Armstrong to visit you."

"Your friend, Dr. Anson?" exclaimed Mrs. St. Clair, in surprise; "have you known him long?"

"Almost from his boyhood, and a more intelligent, well-informed man I have seldom met with. I was not, however, aware till now that he possessed courage and daring in addition to his other good qualities."

"But who is he?" was the next question.

"The son, indeed the only child, of Farmer Armstrong, who owns Meadow Farm, about two miles from Basingstoke. The farm has belonged to Armstrong's ancestors for nearly two hundred years. The old gentleman has recently lost his wife, and the son came from London a few weeks ago to be present at his mother's funeral."

"Young Mr. Armstrong resides in London, then, I suppose?" remarked Mrs. Herbert.

"Yes; his tastes for intellectual pursuits and his education made him dislike farming, and at last his father, with great reluctance, allowed him to commence business in London as a corn-dealer."

Mrs. St. Clair had listened to this plain straightforward description of her daughter's and grandson's deliverer and his antecedents with very conflicting sensations. She had hoped to be able personally to show her deep sense of gratitude to this gentleman, who had risked his own life for her child; but now, how could she do so? She had been brought up to consider persons in trade far inferior to herself, and the doctor's account seemed to place this stranger at such an immeasurable distance, and yet how could she relieve herself from such a debt of gratitude?

During the pause that ensued, Dr. Anson examined and questioned his patient, and having received satisfactory answers, was about to take his leave, when Mrs. St. Clair's voice arrested his movements.

"Dr. Anson, we can never really repay this person the debt of gratitude we owe him, but as he is in trade, do you think he would accept a sum of money; something handsome, I mean! I am sure my son-in-law, Sir James Elston, would readily advance it in such a case."

"Mamma!"

"Madam!"

The words burst forth almost simultaneously from Mrs. Herbert and the doctor. The former gave up her right to speak to the doctor, who exclaimed—

"My friend Mr. Edward Armstrong is not only a man of large property, but of refined and intellectual tastes, and can boast of an education far beyond the generality of farmers' sons. I could not——"

"Oh, pray pardon me!" interrupted Mrs. St. Clair, greatly surprised at the doctor's vehemence, "but when you spoke of your friend as a man of business, I supposed him to be what a tradesman generally is."

"Mrs. St. Clair," said the doctor, "England is becoming proud of her commerce, and the young people of the present age may live to see the time when, like the ancients of old, 'her princes will be merchants,' as well as men of intellect, refinement, and education. At all events, my dear madam, give your daughters an opportunity to thank this gentleman for risking his life on their behalf; personally, I am quite sure, he will expect this, and consider it cancels all obligations. If you see him you can judge for yourselves. Good morning, ladies. Don't excite yourself, my dear," he continued, more gently, as he shook hands with his patient; "your constitution has received a shock, and you must be careful."

"I will, doctor, I promise you," she said, "but I may go into the drawing-room with mamma and Helen to receive the visitor?"

"Of course—of course," he replied, "but remember, you are not to talk too much."

For some minutes after Dr. Anson left the room silence reigned supreme: Mrs. St. Clair could not at once recover from the surprise at being thus set down by her own medical man; indeed, she looked so disconcerted that Helen could not resist the merry laugh that broke the silence.

"Mamma, don't look so uncomfortable," she said; "of course you could not be expected to know what would be the best means of showing our gratitude to this stranger, for indeed we ought to be grateful——"

"I know it, my dear," said Mrs. St. Clair, whose pride had received a severe blow; "and now what are we to do?"

"We have simply to adjourn to the drawing-room, ring the bell, and send down our cards, with our compliments, and a request that Mr. Armstrong will favour us with a visit."

This advice was at once acted upon, and in a few minutes Maria found herself comfortably seated in an arm-chair in Mrs. Lake's pretty drawing-room, while her mother and sister awaited the appearance of their visitor in formal state on the sofa. Even to Maria, Edward Armstrong was an entire stranger, for although she had modestly shrunk from his earnest gaze at church on the previous Sunday, and had seen his face twice on the day of the accident, it was still unknown to her.

They had