Now he had been a week in town, during which period he met Miss Bruce at least once every day. This constant intercourse is to be explained in a few words.

of

Mrs. Stanmore, the Aunt Agatha with whom Maud expressed herself so unwilling to reside, was a sister of the late Mr. Bruce. She had married a widower with one son, that widower being old Mr. Stanmore, defunct, that son being Dick. Mrs. Stanmore, in the enjoyment a large jointure, which rather impoverished her step-son, though arbitrary and unpleasant, was a woman of generous instincts, so offered Maud a home the moment she learned her niece's double bereavement, which home, for many reasons, heiress or no heiress, Miss Bruce felt constrained to accept. Thus it came about that she found herself walking with Tom Ryfe en cachette in the Square gardens, and leaving them, recognized the gentleman whom she was to meet at luncheon in ten minutes, on whose intellect at least, if not his heart, she felt pretty sure she had already made an impression.

'I won't show her up,' said Dick, to his neatest boots, while he scraped them at his mother's door; 'but I should like to know who that bumptious-looking chap is, and what the h-ll she could have to say to him in the Square gardens all the same.'

Mr. Stanmore's language at the luncheon-table, it is needless to say, was far less emphatic than that which relieved his feelings in soliloquy; nor was he to-day quite so talkative as usual. His mother thought him silent (he always called her 'mother,' and, to do her justice, she could not have loved her own son better, nor scolded him oftener, had she possessed one); Miss Bruce voted him stupid and sulky. She told him so.

'A merrythought, if you please, and no bread sauce,' ce,' said the young lady, in her calm, imperious manner. 'Don't forget I hate bread sauce, if you mean to come here often to luncheon; and do say something. Aunt Agatha can't; no more can I. Recollect we've got a heavy after

Maud's face brightened, and, be sure, Dick saw it brighten.

،

That accounts for it,' said she, with the rare smile in her eyes; 'and he thinks we shan't let him smoke, so he sulks beforehand, grim, grave, and silent as a ghost. Mr. Stanmore, cheer up. You may smoke the whole way down. Tu give you leave.'

'Nonsense, my dear,' observed Aunt Agatha, sternly. 'He don't want to do anything of the kind. What have you been about, Maud, all the morning? I looked for you everywhere to help me with the visiting-list.'

'Puckers and I took a "constitutional," answered Miss Bruce, unblushingly. 'We wanted to do some shopping.' But her dark eyes stole towards Dick, and although his never met them, she felt satisfied he had witnessed her interview with Tom Ryfe in the Square gardens.

'I saw you both coming in, Miss Bruce,' said Dick, breaking the awkward pause which succeeded Maud's misstatement. 'I think Puckers wears twice as smart a bonnet as yours. I hope you are not offended.'

Again that smile from the dark eyes. Dick felt, and perhaps she meant him to feel, that he had lost nothing in her good opinion by ignoring even to herself that which she wished to keep unknown.

'I think you've very little taste in bonnets, whatever you may have in faces,' answered the young lady; 'and I think I shall go and put one on now that will make you eat your words humbly when I appear in it on the lawn at Lady Goldthred's.'

'I have no doubt there won't be a dry eye in the place,' answered Dick, looking after her, as she left the room, with undisguised admira

tion in his honest face-with something warmer and sweeter than admiration creeping and gathering about his heart.

So they all went down together in the barouche, Dick sitting with his back to the horses, and gazing his fill on the young beauty opposite, looking so cool and fair in her fresh summer draperies, so thoroughly in keeping with the light and sparkle of everything around-the brilliant sunshine, the spring foliage, the varying scenery, even to the varnish and glitter of the well-appointed carriage, and the plated harness on the horses.

Aunt Agatha conversed but sparingly. She was occupied with the phantom pages of her banker's book; with the shortcomings of a new housemaid; not a little with the vague sketch of a dress, to bo worn at certain approaching gaieties, which should embody the majesty of the chaperon without entirely resigning all pretensions to youth. But for one remark, 'that the coachman was driving very badly,' I think she travelled in stately silence as far as Kew. Not so the other occupants of the barouche. Maud, desirous of forgetting much that was distasteful to her in the events of the morning, and, indeed, in the course of her daily life, resolved to accept the tangible advantages of the present, nor scrupled to show that she enjoyed fresh air, fine weather, and pleasant company. Dick, stimulated by her presence, and never disinclined to gaiety of spirit, exerted himself to be agreeable, pouring forth a continuous stream of that pleasant nonsense which is the only style of conversation endurable in the process of riding, driving, or other jerking means of locomotion.

It is only when his suit has prospered that a man feels utterly idiotic and moonstruck in the presence of the woman he adores. Why, when life is scarce endurable but at her side, he should become a bore in her presence, is only another intricacy in the many puzzles that constitute the labyrinth of love. So long as he flutters unsinged about its flame, the moth is all the happier for the warmth of

the candle, all the livelier for the inspiration of its rays. Dick Stan more, turning into the Kensington Road, was the insect basking in those bright, alluring beams; but Dick Stanmore on the further side of Kew, felt more like the same insect when its wings have been already shrivelled and its powers of flight destroyed in the temerity of its adoration.

Still it was pleasant, very pleasant. She looked so beautiful, she smiled so kindly, always with her eyes, sometimes with the perfect, high-bred mouth; she entered so gaily into his gossip, his fancies, his jokes, allowing him to hold her parasol and arrange her shawis with such sweetness and goodhumour, that Dick felt quite sorry to reach the Portugal laurels and trim lawns of their destination, when the drive was over from which he had derived this new and unforeseen gratification. Something warned him that, in accordance with that rule of compensation which governs all terrestrial matters, theso delights were too keen to last, and there must surely be annoyance and vexation in store to complete the afternoon.

His first twinge originated in the marked admiration called forth by Miss Bruce's appearance at the very outset. She had scarcely made her salaam to Lady Goldthred, and passed on through billiard-room, library, and verandah, to the two dwarfed larches and half-acre of mown grass which constitute the wilderness of a suburban villa, ere Dick felt conscious that his could be no monopoly of adoration. Free trade was at once declared by glances, whispers, and inquiries from a succession of well-dressed young gentlemen, wise doubtless in their own conceit, yet not wanting in that worldly temerity which impels fools to rush in where angels fear to tread, and gives the former class of beings, in their dealings with that sex which is compounded of both, an immeasurable advantage over the latter.

Miss Bruce had not traversed the archery-ground (twenty-five feet, from target to target), on her way to the refreshment tent, ere half a dozen of the household troops, a bachelor baronet, and the richest young commoner of his year, were presented by her host, at their own earnest request. Dick's high spirits went down like the froth in a glass of soda-water, and he fell back discouraged, to exchange civilities with Lady Goldthred.

That excellent woman, dressed, painted, and wound-up for the occasion, was volubly delighted with everybody; and being by no means sure of Dick's identity, dashed the more cordiality into her manner, while careful not to commit herself by venturing on his name.

'So good of you to come'-she fired it at him, as she had fired it at fifty others all this distance from town, and such a hot day, to see my poor little place. But isn't it pretty now? And are we not lucky in the weather? And weren't you smothered in dust coming down? And you've brought the beauty with you too. I declare Sir Moses is positively smitten! I'm getting quite jealous. Just look at him now. But he's not the only one, that's a comfort.'

Dick did look, wondering vaguely why the sunshine should have faded all at once. Sir Moses, a little bald personage, in a good-humoured fuss, whom no amount of inexperience mexperience could have taken for anything but the 'man of the house,' was paying the utmost attention to Miss Bruce, bringing her tea, placing a campstool for her that she might see the archery, and rendering her generally those hospitable services which it had been his lot to waste on many less attractive objects during that long sunny afternoon.

'Sir Moses is always so kind,' answered Dick, vaguely; 'and nobody's breakfasts are so pleasant as yours, Lady Goldthred.'

'I'm too glad you think so,' answered his hostess, who, like a good-hearted woman as she was, took enormous pains with these festivities, congratulating herself, when she washed off her rouge, and doffed her robes of ceremony at night, that she had got through the great penance of her year. 'You're always so good-natured. But I do

think men like to come here. The country air, you know, and the scenery. and plenty of pretty people. Now, there's Lord Bearwardenlook, he's talking to Miss Bruce, under the cedar - he's actually driven over from Windsor, and though he's a way of being so fine and blasé and all that, he don't look much bored at this moment, does he? Twenty thousand a year they say, and been everywhere and done everything. Now, I fancy, he wants to marry, for he's much older, you know, than he looks. To hear him talk you'd think he was a hundred, and broken-hearted into the bargain. For my part, I've no patience with a melancholy man; but then I'm not a young lady. You know him, though, of course.'

Dick's reply, if he made one, was drowned in a burst of brass music, that deafened people at intervals throughout the afternoon, and Lady Goldthred's attention wandered to fresh arrivals, for whom, with fresh smiles and untiring energy, she elaborated many more remarks of a similar tendency.

Dick Stanmore did know Lord Bearwarden, as every man about London knows every other man leading the same profitable life. There were many whom he would have preferred as rivals; but thinking he detected signs of weariness on Maud's face (it had already come to this, that he studied her countenance, and winced to see it smile on any one else), he crossed the lawn, that he might fill the place by her side to which he considered himself as well entitled as another.

His progress took some little time, what with bowing to one lady, treading on the dress of another, and parrying the attack of a third who wanted him to give her daughter a cup of tea, so that by the time Dick reached her, Lord Bearwarden had left Miss Bruce to the attentions of another guest, more smart than gentlemanlike, in whose appearance there was something indefinably out of keeping with the rest. Dick started. It was the man with whom he had seen Maud walking before luncheon in the Square.

People were pairing for a dance on

the lawn, and Mr. Stanmore, wedged in by blocks of beauty and mountains of muslin, could neither advance nor retreat. It was no fault of his, that he overheard Miss Bruce's conversation with the stranger.

• Will you dance with me?' said the latter, in a whisper of suppressed anger, rather than the tone of loving entreaty with which it is customary to urge this pleasant request.

'Impossible!' answered Maud, energetically. 'I'm engaged to Lord Bearwarden-it's the Lancers, and he's only gone to make up the set.'

The man ground his teeth and knit his brows.

'You seem to forget,' he muttered -'you carry it off with too high a hand. I have a right to bid you dance with me. I have a right, if I chose, to order you down to the river there and row you back to Putney with the tide; and I will, I swear, if you provoke me too far.'

She seemed to keep her temper with an effort.

'Do be patient,' she whispered, glancing round at the bystanders. Surely you can trust me. Hush! here comes Lord Bearwarden.'

And taking that nobleman's arm, she walked off with a mournful, pleading look at her late companion, which poor Dick Stanmore would have given worlds to have seen directed to himself.

There was no more pleasure for him now during the rest of the entertainment. He did indeed obtain a momentary distraction from his resolution to ascertain the name of the person who had so spoilt his afternoon. It helped him very little to be told the gentleman was gentleman Mr. Ryfe.' Nobody seemed to know any more, and even this information he extracted with difficulty from Lady Goldthred, who added, in a tone of astonishment

'a

'Why, you brought him, didn't you?

Dick was mystified-worse, he was unhappy. For a few minutes he wandered about behind the dancers, watching Maud and her partner as they threaded the intricacies of those exceedingly puzzling evolutions

which constitute the Lancer quadrilles. Lord Bearwarden was obviously delighted with Maud, and that young lady seemed by no means unconscious or careless of her partner's approval. I do not myself consider the measure they were engaged in threading as particularly conducive to the interchange of sentiment. If my memory serves me right, this complicated dance demands as close an attention as whist, and affords almost as few opportunities of communicating with a partner. Nevertheless, there is a language of the eyes, as of the lips, and it was not Lord Bearwarden's fault if his looks were misunderstood by their object. All this Dick saw, and seeing, grew more and more disgusted with life in general, with Lady Goldthred's breakfast in particular. When the dance ended, and Dick Stanmore-hovering about his flame, like the poor moth to which I have compared him, once singed and eager to be singed again -was hesitating as to whether he, too, should not go boldly in and try his chance, behold Mr. Ryfe with an offensive air of appropriation walks off with Miss Bruce arm-in-arm, towards the sequestered path that leads to the garden-gate that leads to the shady lane that leads to the shining river!

It was all labour and sorrow now. People who called this sort of thing amusement, thought Dick, would go to purgatory for pastime, and a stage farther for diversion. When he broke poor Redwing's back three fields from home in the Melton steeple-chase he was grieved, annoyed, distressed. When he lost that eleven-pounder in the shallows below Melrose, because 'Aundry,' his Scottish henchman, was too drunk to keep his legs in a running stream, he was angry, vexed, disgusted; but never before, in his whole life of amusement and adventure, had he experienced anything like the combination of uncomfortable feelings that oppressed him now. He was ashamed of his own weakness, too, all the time, which only made matters worse.

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Hang it!' thought Dick, 'I don't see why I should punish myself by