FICTION.

New Zealand Times, Volume LVII, Issue 2413, 19 January 1895, Page 1 (Supplement)

FICTION.

BY MRS LOVETT CAMERON, AUTHOR OF *IN A GRASS COUNTRY/ *A DEVOUT LOVEII/ ‘ DECEIVERS EVEb/ • THIS WICKED WORLD,' &C., &0,

“fl LOST WIFE,”

CHAPTER I. A. MATCHMAKER. ‘ 00l place and wealth, if possible with If not, by any means get wealth and place. —Pope. I, Frederica Clifford, twenty years of age, height five foot four> freshcornxdexioned, with grey oyesj a retrousse nose, and red browh hair tucked up into a loose shlrtitlg knot at the top Of my head, was Standing riiy back to the room, Sttld my face to the window-panes, whereon my impatient fingers wore performing what is enigmatically called a “ devil’s tattoo.” , . Mrs Thistleby and I had been shut up together indoors the whole afternoon. Women, albeit the dearest of friends, not stand too much of each other’s uninterrupted society. Pfobaolyj our tempera —Bella’s and mine—wore none the better for the enforced Me-a-tele which had lasted from luncheon till nearly six o’clock.

Sty fvi6mi was playing ono of Strauss waltzes. Her touch was what used to be called when wo were at school together ‘ bangy/ She was banging away furiously now. I shrewdly suspected that she would very gladly be pummelling my head instead of tho keys of her own cottage Broadwood, I therefore prudently kept my back turned to her, and continued to stare out of tho window. The prospect was not inviting. Tho little greenish uttered lodging-houses of the town blinked miserably at mo through the driving rain; the bathing machines were all drawn high up in a row close under the sea-wall; the cliffs loomed an indistinct grey mass through the fog j the very sea was all but blotted out. Ono or two umbrellas wont jogging along tho esplanade, but none of them came up so far as our house, which stood at tho end of the little watering-place, isolated from the town.

Tho square plot of garden which divided tho house from the boach, generally a smiling parterre of flowers, is to-day a scene of desolation. Tho gravel paths are rivers of water; the petttnias and calceolarias are hanging their draggled heads in the mud; thO scarlet geraniums in the stone Vases 'On the terrace are alniost washed away; whilst down unon the statue of the goddess Flora, itt the centre, a stream of water trickles continuously, snlhshing monotonously ih big drops off the end of her dirty stoh'O nose.

Decidedly, of all dismal places in wet wcathet, Mrs Thistleby’s ‘marine residence ’ at Seaoliff is the very dismallest. Suddenly Strauss’ waltz came to an end with a crash, and my friend jumped up from tho piano with an impetus which sent the music-stool flying half across the room. ‘ Freda! ’ she cried excitedly, * you don’t mean to tell me that you care twopence for that old Curtis! ’

‘My dear Bella/ I answered, turning round upon her with mild amazement, ‘ what can you possibly mean ? ’ ‘Mean? Why, that it's a sin and a shame for a girl like you to be thrown away on an old man, old enough to be your grandfather; why, with your, beauty you, might marry any one, Freda—any one!' ‘My beauty, as you are pleased to call it, ought; no doubt; to command a very high price in the matrimonial market/ I replied, with a laugh. ‘ supposing only that there were a market to convey it to. You forget. Sella, how very limited are the Capabilities of Sloppcrton. Allow me to bring the stern facts to your notice. On the one hand there are the affections of Mr Gibson, the curate, the half of his worldly goods amounting to aboiit £76 per annum■ also a lodging with the abovenamed divine, itt a three-roomed cottage on the village green, commanding a view of a duck-pond in the foreground, and a fine airy distant prospect of clothes-lines behind it, whereon the family wash of the village flutters gracefully in the breeze. Those delights are tempting, no doubt; but then, on the other hand, there is my father’s oldest friend, for whom I have a very true regard, to say nothing of Eddington Hall, one of the finest old places in the country; and no end of money! Would any girl in her. senses hesitate between the two, Bella?’ ■ . . „ ‘I wouldn’t ha’vo believed it of you, Freda. You ate marrying the man for his money!’ . 'I am/ was my tranquil rejoinder; which answer lashed Mrs Thistleby into positive fU She started up, and stalked up and down the room like a tragedy-queen, with her nose well in the air. Suddenly she turned round upon mo, and burst l out impetuously : , , ‘You are enough to provoke a saint, child! Any one would think you the most mercenary, shallow-hearted, worldlyminded, calculating, hateful — l —’ ‘ Bella, Bella! ’ I cried,, laughingly stopping my ears. ‘Yes, I mean it; and you are sUch a little fool, too. Are there but those two men in the world, child, that you must needs be in such a hurry to throw yourself away ? You are not afraid of being an old maid, are you, at twenty? You are not going to spend all your life at Slopperton, I suppose ? AVhy, in til© naruo of a>ll that is sensible. Can’t you wait ? * ‘That is just exactly what I cannot do/ I answered, sobered a little out of my teazing mood by her angry impetuosity. ‘ I cannot Wait. Papa is an old man, and all the comfort and happiness of his life depends upon my marriage. He has been worried by money troubles all his life, and poverty comes hard upon the old. He looks to me to bring him a little peace and comfort in the last years of his life. You are quite right,.Bella, when you say that I am going to marry Mr Curtis for his money —chiefly, that is to say—but you know very well for whose sake I am doing it. After which fine, filial speech I relapsed again into the congenial occupation of strumming upon the window-pane.^ Bella, apparently, was seized with compunctions of conscience. She came up behind me, and cooed over me in a pretty, penitential manner, stroking my arm, and calling me her ‘dear little pet/ as if I were a small child, instead of being a good head and shoulders taller than she is. ... Then she said, with a big sigh, whichmade me laugh, so little did the occasion seem to require it: .„ . ‘ You are very good and self-sacrificing, darling, of coursebut it’s all very fine for yon to talk. If you were to faU in love with anybody els© you would not marry Mr Curtis; no. not for a dozen old fathers! ‘But, my dear girl, I am-not in love with any one else; and, seriously, Bella, I never saw the man yet I ’ liked better than George Curtis. Surely; if I prefer him to any other man I have ever seen—surely that is enough/ ~ , , ‘ Wait till you have seen Mark. ‘Aha! So that is what alb this rhodomontade means, Mrs Matchmaker!’ I' exclaimed, with an amused recollection of many Of my friend’s' weU-known little schemes of like character for iny benefit. ‘And so you" have asked this fascinating brother-in-law down here all for me ? ’ : ‘ You will fall madly in love wiih him/ she answered, with a solemnity which made me laugh long and loud. ‘ My dear, do recollect that my visit to you comes to an end the day after tomorrow. One clear day of Captain Thistleby’s delightful society is hardly likely to be enough to reduce mo to the desperate stop of eloping with him/ ‘ You are the very wife for him,’ persisted Bella, gravely. . ‘But he is not the husband for me. Besides, if he were, X nm engaged to somebody else, and that, surely, ought to settle the question at once/ Then this wicked little woman suddenly changed her tone of voice. ■ Freda, darling/ she said, beginning to pet and coax me as if I were .a small baby ‘you will make yourself look nice for dinner, won’t you ? You will put on that pretty blue gauze dress that is so becoming to you, won’t you, my pet ? ’ ‘What! All because this young man is coming ? Certainly, not! My old black silk, that I have worn since the days of the Flood —that is what he will be treated to. Nothing more, nothing less! ’ And I brought down my closed fiat on the little table in front of me with a strength and determination intended to intimate to Bella that wild horses and thumb-screws would be powerless to make me budge one single inch from this ultimatum. Mrs Thistleby heaved a resigned sigh. ‘Ho will bo here in another half-hour/ she said, glancing at the clock. ‘ln that case, I shall beat a graceful retreat to my own chamber/

Upon which Bella pursued me half way up the stairs with renewed entreaties at least to put on some; blue ribbons and make myself a little bit nice! But! shook ray head with obdurate hard-hearteduess, and laughingly bolted myself into my bedroom to escape from her. ■ We were justTike a couple of children together in those days, Bella and I; for although she was six years older than,’! was, her little mignonne figure and pretty childish manner always seemed to bring ns to tin-equality in the matter of age. Tears ago we had been at school together, 1 although, from the difference of ago between us, wo could hardly have, been ’wUc4 friends at that time, ’’

Almost as soon as she left school, Isabella Morris married Mr James Thistleby, and X lost sight of her for several years. It was purely a love match, I believe, and they* were very happy together, until one sad week, whilst they were travelling in Italy, when Mr Thistleby caught a sort of low typhoid fever which happened to be very prevalent in Turin, where they were staying, and died after a few days* illness. It was during the first year of her widowhood that I again met my old schoolfellow, She was at that time in very low spirits, and in bad health. I did my best to cheer and comfort her, and after a time she recovered her strength, and with it her natural cheerfulness and liveliness. She became warmly attached to me. We had now been fast friends for more than three years. Bella was very kind to mo. She was a wealthy little widow, with a nice house in town besides tho villa at Seacliff ; and it was her greatest delight to load her poverty-stricken friend with presents and Each year I spent as much time as I could spare from my old father with her, either in London or at Seacliff; and sometimes she paid us a visit, which, considering the many discomforts in my home, compared with tho luxurious plenty in her own, was certainly very good and unselfish of her. . . Curiously enough, in all the time that we had been friends, although she talked of him perpetually, I had never seen her husband’s youngest brother, Mark Thistleby. He had been a good deal abroad with his regiment, and when at homo on leave I had never happened to meet him. But now he was coming down to Seacliff to stay with his sister-in-law, and this very evening I was to behold this paragon at last; I never like other people’s paragons. As a rule, they do riot answer in the least to one’s own expectations, or to their friends’ enthusiastic descriptions of them. They are generally perfectly commonplace and uninteresting, and one wonders what there can be to admire in them.

I did not in tbe least expect to find Bella’s wonderful brother-in-law an exception to my usual experience in this matter; and yet, aa X proceeded with ray toilette, arraying myself in the ancient black silk X had so maliciously settled to .wear, X was conscious of a certain amount of curiosity, and I fell to speculating vaguely as to What Captain Thistleby Vvould be like. I foresaw it perfectly; A cavalry officer ! lsid I not know the species well—too well ?’ Do they not all have long moustaches, a swaggering walk, a flippant manner, and very little brains ? Do they not all set to work to make love—more or less sham lovß —to every docent-looking girl they meet ? And then do they not go away imagining they have made a conquest of her, and that she is languishing for them ever after ? I could see no reason why this particular man should be different from all others of his kind, for Bella, dear little soul, was just the sort of woman to be taken in by a man of that style, and to fall down and worship hint. Meanwhile; I heard all the confusion of' an arrival in the house. The door-bell rang ; there was a hurrying of feet. Bella came flying out of her room along the passage to the hall. There were sounds of laughing and talking, and sounds of luggage being unladen and brought into the house; Presently I heard tllßrii come upstairs. Bella was, apparently, showing him his room; Tliejr phSsed OlOtS outside my .door;. both talking at once, and then more" doors were slammed. Silence hd the, ■ house succeeded to the commotion, and I knew that the stranger was safe in his room dressing for dinner, By-and-bye, having completed my own toilette, I opened my door and peeped oiit. There was a .dead silence. X reflected that it would be very embarrassing to be found by Captain Thistleby sitting alone in the drawing-room with nobody to introduce us to each other; so I retreated again, deters mined to wait until I was quite sure that Bella had left bet room. After, a few minutes 1 heard her door oped; add 1 again issued forth ou to the landing.. This time they were both going down stairs together, and I peeped cautiously Over the banisters upon the tops of their heads, which the banning lamp above illuminated brilliantly. Just as 1 thought! Curly hair and a long moustache; the swagger-walk, of course; and—hut Bella is speaking—and, in the absolute horror which filled me at the sound of her words, 1 utterly forgot to make any more observations upon Captain Thistlehy’s personal appearance. . ‘ I am so delighted that you Will see her at last! t have, planned it for ages j she is the very woman in all the world for you* Mark,’ said that odious, treacherous; wicked little woman. ‘My dear, girl, does she expect me to make love to her ? It will give me a great deal of trouble. You know very well how I always avoid young ladies; bread-and-butter is my detestation/ was the careless with a of that drawl which I had> perhaps unjustly* learnt to associate with the general tone and manner of Her Majesty's cavalry officers/ I flew back into my; room in a perfect tempest of rag© and indignation; A sudden determination possessed nie. Like a mad creature I fell down on my knees before my wardrobe* violently pulling out one drawer after another, until at last I founi the something I was looking for. , Then! I stood up before the long glass, and begali arraying myself in itl 4 It was a cape of the very, richest Spanish point lace, which had, belonged to my josseased. ~I had never worn it; in fact, I lad only brought it to Seacliff with me with the view of inducing Bella to take it to London to sell for me, in order- to provide myself with some indispensable necessaries of life. It was far too rich handsome for a girl. I wrapped it round my slight figure with trembling hands, and 1 was conscious, as I surveyed my image in the glass, that not all the gauze dresses and blue ribbons in the world could make me look half so well as that &old lace scarf, drawn hastily over my shabby black silk, with the brilliant burning colour in my cheeks which no maiden modesty, no shy vanity, had called forth; but simply a blind, raging anger. 'He shall see if I am a "bread-and-butter” girl! * I muttered, furiously. 'I will make him admire mo desperately, and then I will snub him. Oh, how I will snub him ! I expect him to make love to me, indeed! I should like to see him dare! Oh, how glad I am that I am engaged to Mr Curtis ! 9 The dinner-bell rang, and I sallied forth erect and proud, with the air of a Marie Antoinette on her way to the scaffold.

CHAPTER 11. THE PABAGON.

‘ I thank yon for your company; bnt, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.’ . —ShAKBPEAKE.

‘Miss Clifford—Captain Thistleby,’ says Bella, as I enter,‘and here is dinner at the same time.’ ,

I bowed stiffly: I was conscious of crisp - brown hair, a tall figure,-and the flash of a ! wonderful pair of hazel eyes that inetnulio 1 for an instant, also of a comical uplifting of Mrs Bella’s eye-brows as she surveyed i my striking and somewhat grotesque cos- i tume. , . V' /' ‘Now, how sliall we manage ? t debated ; our hostess. ‘Two ladies to one gentle- ; man. I think, Freda, as you are the young lady of the party, that Mark ought to take you.’ ■ ■ I drew back coldly. ‘ Oh, dear, no; as I am engaged to be married, X cannot be looked upon as a « young lady ” any longer.’ This I Uttered with the most chilling coldness. . Captain Thistleby immediately offered his arm to Bella with perfect tranquillity, and I followed in the rear, feeling, it must be confessed, somewhat small. As soon as we were fairly launched into the middle of soup, that dreadful Bella began her persecutions. ■. ‘My darling child, what a lovely lace fichu! Where did you get it, and how is it I have never seen it before ? As I live, it’s the best bit of Spanish I have ever seen. Mark, you are a connoisseur in lace,- do look at Miss Clifford’s scarf.’ Thus abjured. Captain Thistleby vouchsafed to turn his eyes towards me, and gazed fixedly, not at me, 'but at my shoulder, during which inspection I became gradually of a fine deep pmony colour. ‘lt’s a very good specimen,’ he said, when he had finished staring at it, and turning round again to Bella, without so much as a glance at my face, by which slight I felt uncomfortably piqued. ‘lt reminds me very much of that bit we bought at Borne, Bello, in that dirty little street behind the Via Babuini. l)o you remember how eager you were to give the old woman her hundred and fifty francs, and how I kept interrupting you and shouting to her seventy-five, not a sou more ? ’ ‘Yes; and how you dragged me out of the' shop almost in tears at last, because you wouldn’t let me be cheated, and how the old hag came running out after us when we were half way down the street, crying “ Preridete 10, signora,’ and flung it at my head wrapped in a dirty bit of old , newspaper.’ • Ah, but that was nothing to the bargain we got at Verona, in the little grocer’s i shop, where we had spied a heap of rags of • lace in the corner of the window.’ ■; ‘ Yes, and you would ask for candles, and ’ coffee, and tobacco, and heaven knows how ! many other smelling horrors, for fear they should find out what wo really had our ojo , on. I thought you would never lead up to • the subject.’ i i * Didn’t I got you the whole lot for five 'francs, you ungrateful woman ? ’

'Think, Freda/ turning to ine, 'five francs! It cost me to have it mended in London, and it is the handsomest lace flounce X possess. Did you go to the old curiosity shop at Lyons, Mark, last time you came through ? ’ 1 No ; I had not time. Do you remember, Bella, the first time we went there, and how angry poor old Jem was with us for wasting our money on that “ trashy tin plate/* as he called my beautiful Limoges enamel/

And so on, and so on, through half-a-dozen more reminiscences of their foreign travels together. I began to feel very much out of it. Decidedly, I had wasted my Spanish lace and my indignation together upon this utterly impassive man, who simply appeared to ignore my existence. I yawned, and began looking about at the pictures on the walls, with all of which I was perfectly familiar, in a futile attempt to create an independent line of amusement for myself. X begun to think I need not have announced my engaged position with so much precipitation. Captain Thistleby did not seem inclined to pay me even the ordinary civilities of society. Perhaps, I mused, he docs not care for tall girls, with reddish hair and grey eyes. Perhaps he prefers piquanie little blondes like Bella, with pink cheeks and round blue baby eyes. Perhaps —and here h© looks up and catches me staring at him, which sends my own eyes back to my apricot jelly, and the colour hotly up to my tell-tale cheeks. After dinner it is much tho same thing. I go to the piano at Bella’s desire, and she further requests her brother-in-law to come and turn my music over. He excuses himself.

* I am very stupid at that sort of work/ he says, without a sign of ■ rising from the comfortable arm-chair in which he has ensconced himself. ‘I should be sure to make a mess of it. I think Miss Clifford would rather be without me/

I think so too; but as it would not be civil to say so, X merely remark that I never require anybody to turn over the pages of my music. 4 What will you sing, Freda ? * asks Bella. ' What sort of songs do you like, Mark ? ' * I don't think songs are much in my line/ answers this extremely disagreeable man. '* You know I Was never sentimental* and I jlon't Understand, music. . Yoitr ladies' songs— engaged young ladies' sotlga —dire dll very sweet—roses, Cupids, true-lovers'-knota* etc. —are they not. Miss Clifford * 3 * Not ali/ I answered, feeling vicious ; dnd straightway I sat down and began to sing that well-known, quaint old English ditty: ‘ Once I loved a maiden fair. But she did deceive me/

I put into it all the vigour of which I was capable, and the bitter animus which I concentrated into the last line of the song surprised even myself.

* Now I do abhor thee/ I saner almost murderouslyi I was surprised to hear a low laugh behind me, and. to find that Captain Thistleby was standing by the piano. ‘ I have not done you justice. You evi* dently understand the passion of hatred perfectly, 'Mins Clifford, 1 he said, with a niooking boiv. • T felt myself properly snubbed, and took refuge behind, my novel, leaving, to Bella the sole enteHainiheht of her guest for the rest t>f the evening. ;■ - .‘‘Sp you did v beautify yourself, Miss Freda”, said Bella, as* tve sfccbd, flat Candle* stidk ih hand/at our bed-room doors; 'I cotild hardly Hold ihy tongue, X was so amazed when you came in. I neatly told Mark about the blue gauze then and there, only I was so afraid Of your anger/. ' I am very glad you did not/ ‘You made yourself look extremely captivating, Freda/ ‘lassure you I had not the least wish; that is to say, t pUt it On with quite another niotive—for quite a different reason from what you suppose/ I stanimered, somewhat confusedly; *Oh, I daresay; Well, how do you like him?* *

‘ Thistleby? Not at all/ ‘ Not like him t * cried Bella, in genuine amazement, staring blankly at me. ‘ I think him—well, never mind what I think of him. After all, I have not spoken above a dozen words to him, recollect/ * No; that is true. Ah, well, you will like him better to-morrow/

I doubted it ; but, by a strong effort of self-control, refrained from saying so, and we bade each other good-night; The next morning, on coming down rather later than usual, I was surprised to find Bella arrayed in her bonllefc and cloak, with her gloves and travelling-bag on the table beside her, eating toast and poached eggs with breathless. haste, whilst Captain Thistleby was pouring out her tea and otherwise waiting upon'her.' * Why, Bella, 1 exclaimed ! ' * Oh, my darling child! What will you say to me ? lam obliged to go up to town for the day—your last day, too. lam so dreadfully sorry/ , ; , For one minute I was almost inclined' to accuse her of inventing this , scheme on purpose to leave me alone with her brother-in-law; but her pretty face was full of concern as she held but a’ letter for m© to read.- It was from her lawyer. X glanced hurriedly through it, without much understanding it j, but this: much I did see, that there was some-solicitor who was to be met by her in town, and some paper which she must sign, after having conferred with him, in order to effect a pending sale of some of her • property, of which I had- heard her speak. There was evidently no foul play about it. ■ ‘ Make haste, Bella,' or we shall b© toolate/ said Captain Thistleby ; and/ at bis words, I perceived, with a gasp of relief, that ho was going with her. Indeed, when I came to think of it, what else should he do?

‘I am so distressed, Freda, dear. Your very last day and all! will you do to amuse yourself ?' ‘Oh, I shall do very well. I have my sketch of the boat-house to finish ; I shall go and do that after breakfast. It's a lovely day; I shall not bo at all dull. Don't make yourself unhappy about me, dear/ ■ . , ,

‘Here is the fly—come along! 1 cried Captain Thistleby. Bella hugged me as if she were going to South America, jumped into the fly, followed by. her brother-in-law, and they drove off.

Left to my own dovices, I leisurely finished my breakfast, and then, talcing my shady straw hat and my drawing materials, t sauntered down through the garden on to the beach.

There was a flight of slone steps from the terrace leading to the shore, and ifi the triangular bit of shadow which they cast -upon the beach I installed myself with my back against the garden wall.* An old boat-house lower down formed the principal object of my sketch. Behind were red cliffs, and long lines of white sands and dark rocks stretching out to the blue sea beyond. The picture, if somewhat tamo, was nevertheless a wellarranged bit of English coast scenery, and afforded full scope for an artist’s fancy. To-day it is at its best. The distance is all hazy gold, the sky is-flecked with soft white clouds, the sea is gently ruffled into a hundred varied lights and shades, and the boat-house stands out in richest sepia against the delicate tints of the background. , It was deliciously peaceful and quiet; and I began to enjoy myself exceedingly. The only sounds that broke the silence were the monotonous: swish of the .little waves upon the.shore,,and the occasional, cry of a seabird sailing by on big white wings. • I had been working steadily at ray sketch for about twenty minutes, when I; was suddenly startled by some one coming down the steps behind me. : It was Captain Thistleby. ■Well, I have seen Bella off,’ he said, cheerily. ‘ Such a shave it was ! I thought she would have missed the. train—it was actually moving; she had no time to take her ticket.’ : . ■ ■ -

‘But I thought you were going, too,’l exclaimed, with, I fear, a very uncomplimentary dismay in my voice and taco.‘ ‘What, up to London in August with such a day as this at Seaolill! No, thank you, not I. But I am sorry to disappoint you. Miss Clifford,’ he added, looking very much amused.

I muttered. some unintelligible disclaimer, and went on with my sketch. ‘Dp you mind my finishing .my cigar here?’

‘Oh, not at all,’ with elaborate politeness. ‘I am quite used to smoke.’ ‘ What, does the idol of your dreams indulge in tobacco? ’ ; ■ . . • Who ‘ I exclaimed, bewildered. ‘What do you mean?’ ,‘ Why, you did not tell me his name. The gentleman to whom you" are engaged to be married.’

A vision of George Curtis—stout, middleaged, gray-whiskered— snuff: box; goldrimmed spectacles and all—flashed across my mind’s eye; and the idea of his being called the ‘idol of my ,dreams' was so intensely comic that 1 burst out laughing. ‘ Good heavens, how ludicrous! ’ I cried. ‘Mr Curtis is his name, and if you had seen him -But I wasn’t thinking of him; I was thinking of my father.’ • ‘Oh!’ and my companion puffed away at his cigar in silence. ! > , - He bad thrown himself on his back on the beach beside me, but a little lower down, so_ that I could not see bis face* His arms were thrown up under bis head, and lie had tilted bis hat over his nose, do shade bis eyes. Ho seemed to wo to have

©very intention of going to sleep. I devoutly hoped he would. * Yes/ he said, presently, removing the cigar from his mouth and contemplating its smouldering end with close attention. * Yes, our friend Bella thought you would be very dull alone, so she has left me the charming task of entertaining you until eight o’clock this evening/ ‘ I am exceedingly sorry you should have thought it necessary to stop here on my account/ I said, coldly. He laughed slightly, but answered not. ‘I am never dull, I assure you; and X am quit© able to entertain myself.* Still no answer. I was more nettled by his silence than by his words. Nothing aggravates a woman so horribly as an antagonist who won’t speak. I wanted to fight, and my enemy would not even exert himself to take up his weapons. A few minutes ensued, and then I burst forth aggressively ; ‘ I should be exceedingly dull company for you; I must really beg of you to go and find amusement elsewhere to-day. There is a billiard-room in the town, and —and a reading-room, I believe. Anything would be better, I should think, than “ a bread-and-butter girl, who expects you to make love to her.” ’ ‘ Aha! out at last I ’

His shout of triumph positively made me jump. Ho flung away his cigar, and, turning round on his elbows, leant his chin on his hands so as to stare straight at me under my hat. 'I knew I could bring it out. So you heard my incautious speech on the stairs ? Well, I guessed you had the instant you came into the room last night/ His eyes were sparkling with triumphant fun, his face and voice were full of animation. The complete transformation in his manner amazed and confounded me almost more than his .words;

I stammered, and turned crimson. ‘How did you know? What made you guess ? ’ I faltered., j ‘Why, the Spanish point} to begin with.’

I gazed at him in utter astonishment;. ‘ T had seen you before; Miss Clifford; If you remember, you came out of your room once; ten mimltes. sooner; t tias at tho end of the passage, coming out of my door, too/

4 1 did hot se6 you/ ‘No, I know you did not; you could nofc t had blown out my candle, and the pas - sage was quite dark at my side of the house, but the hall-lamp shone full upon yO\i; I Saw you perfectly. You stopped out and listened, drawing back your dress with one hand. There was a pretty indecision in your face; a white ruffle round your throat bordered j'our. perfectly simple dress j there was no lace on your shoulders then. You evidently determined to wait a little longer, and I waited, too. When you came down with that gorgeous lace wrapped round you, and that scornful look on your face, you were no longer the same, girl I had seen on the landing. I knew directly that something had happened in the interval to upset you. Your very first words told me what it was. .You were so feverishly eager to let mo know that you were engaged to be married, that you were somebody else’s property, not to be made IdVe to— 1 ‘ Oh, don't—don't!' I cried, holding, my burning cheeks in my hands. ‘You cannot complain of me. Miss Clifford/ continued my tormentor. ‘You cannot but say that I took’your hint. I did not press my attentions, did I ?' ‘No; you were dreadfully rude/ I stammered. ;

- ‘Yes, aiid though .that is what you had wanted me.to be, you were angry with mo for.it. So like a woman! Your song amused me exceedingly. I could not help giving you that-one little cut. Will you not forgive me ?/ . . ‘ I wish you would go away/ I said, in great distress. ‘X have made a fool of myself, and—and I think I hate you/ I added, somewhat incoherently. ‘ Oh, no, you don't/ answered my companion, confidently. ‘ Now, look hero. Miss Clifford, we will say no more about last night; let us begin afresh. But we must first understand each other. Let us look bur position in the face. Here are we two people left together for a whole day to make the best of each other; now, are we to spend it in fighting and snarling like a couple of terriers, or in rational conversation, like reasonable beings ? ' ‘Just as you like/ I answered meekly, but with a dawning sense of the comic in the situation.

‘Well/ he resumed, ‘let us begin by sweeping away all Bella’s mistaken little plans. You know as well as X do, doubtless, what a matchmaker my dear little sister-in-law is. She is very fond of me, and you are her dearest friend j what more natural idea thau that, therefore, you and I are mads for each other?. Now, this is ludicrous altogether; it is also very embarrassing. You are, as you took care to tell me, you know, engaged to be married ; you, therefore, don't want me in the very least. I have resigned myself to the inevitable, and I am in no need of a wife. This is clear, is it not?' ,

I assented, but I winced a little, too. A woman does not, of course, expect every man to be sighing for her, but that; he does hot ask her to marry him is sufficient proof that he does not want her. To be told in so many words is a little bit painful, ‘When I have somebody's praises whotn I don't know dinned into my ears, I always hate them beforehand; don't you ? Shall we clear away . all the prejudice which; Bella's injudicious praise has roused in our minds, and, as we ;hav© quite settled the matrimonial question, agree to be friends ?' * With all my heart/1 answered frankly. * Give me your hand upon it, then/ and he held out his own to me. It was big, and strong, and sunburnt —a manly hand that, I think, 1 could hold- on to if X were in trouble. I placed my own in it, and he grasped it firmly for a second. ‘ Now let me look at your sketch, will you? You have-got your boat-house a little out of drawing. May I put it right for you ? Give me your brush —there, that is better. Your colouring is. very good; there is a great deal: of, poetry and feeling in your distance; tone down your foreground a little more—a wash of tobalt will do it/ ..

With half-a-dozen touches, ho had put a finish and a beauty into my little sketch that I could not have brought out in an hour's work.

‘You understand painting better than music/1 said; laughing. ‘ Much better; and so do you, I fancy/ he retorted.

And over this congenial interest we became great friends. I was quite surprised when the luncheon bell rang from the house behind us to find that the morn-, ing had, slipped away so quickly and So pleasantly, (To be continued.)