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profaned for me to profane it, so I shall draw the line at study.) But to return. Miss Lily, being the youngest, was of course the first to raise her voice.

'I had a proposal last night, papa, and I have come to tell you about it,' said she, in a tone replete with triumph.

It is so sweet to the mind of youth to outdo its elders. But 'on this occasion only' the elders refused to be outdone. They each and all betrayed a smile of inward satisfaction, and then they gave way to speech.

No!' they said, in a breath. They did not mean to doubt or be impolite; they only meant surprise.

The curate,' said Hetty, in a composed but plainly contemptuous whisper. It was a stagewhisper. 'Old Major Sterne,' said Miss Georgie promptly.

'Perhaps Henry Simms,' suggested Katie, with some sympathy. Then turning to her father she said, with a conscious blush,' It is very strange, papa, but I too had a proposal last night.'

'And so had I!' exclaimed Georgie and Hetty in a breath.

Eh?' said papa, pushing up his spectacles. He was fat and pudgy, with sandy hair and a flabby nose. He was a powerful man too, and one unpleasant to come to open quarrel with. Proposals in the Brownrig family were few and far between-in fact curiosities and so much luck, as the girls described, falling into one day overpowered him.

'One at a time; my breath is not what it used to be,' he said, addressing Katie. (If he had said breadth, it would have been equally true, as his mother-if she was to be believed-always declared he was a lean baby.) 'May I ask the name of your lover?'

'Mr. Snooks,' said she, with

downcast eyes and a timid smile. She took up the corner of a cherrycoloured bow that adorned her gown, and fell to admiring it, through what she fondly thought was bashfulness.

'Impossible!' exclaimed Georgie angrily.

'What a disgraceful untruth!' cried Hetty rudely. Mr. Snooks proposed to me, to me, last night, and I accepted him.'

'What is it you say? O, I am going out of my mind; my senses are deserting me,' said Georgie, putting her hands to her head with a dramatic gesture. 'Or is it a dream that he asked me to marry him, and that I too said "yes" ?'

'I seldom visit the clouds,' said Lily, with a short but bitter laugh. 'And I certainly know he made me a noble offer of his hand and heart; both which treasures I declined.'

'Where?' demanded the other three, as though with one mouth. 'In the laurel avenue !'

At this they all groaned aloud. 'Perfidious monster!' said Hetty from her heart.

'Am I to understand,' began Mr. Brownrig, with suppressed but evident fury, 'that this-this -unmitigated scoundrel asked you all to marry him last night?'

'If we speak the truth, yes,' replied the girls dismally.

He was drunk,' said papa savagely.

'I can't believe it,' said Katie, who was dissolved in tears-in fact, like Niobe, all tears'-by this time. 'Nothing could be nicer than the way he did it. His language was perfect, and so thoroughly from the-heart.'

'He addressed me in a most honourable, upright, and Christian fashion,' said Hetty. I am sure he meant every word he said.'

She was thinking uneasily of

that kiss in the moonlight. Could any one have seen her? Was old Major Sterne anywhere about at the moment?

'I certainly considered his manner strange, not a bit like what one reads,' said Georgie honestly; 'but I thought of the title and the property, and I said yes directly.'

I thought him the very greatest muff I ever spoke to,' broke in Miss Lily, with decision. 'I refused him without a moment's hesitation, and told him to go home. I'm sure it was well I did. I daresay if he had stayed here much longer, he would have proposed to mamma next, and afterwards to the upper housemaid. I agree with you, papa, the champagne was too much for him.'

‘I—I think he is fond of me,' said Katie, in a low and trembling tone. Her fingers are not playing with the cherry-coloured bow now, but her eyelids have borrowed largely of its tint.

'Don't be a goose, Katie,' said the youngest Miss Brownrig, kindly but scornfully; you don't suppose any of us would marry him now, after the way he has behaved. Do have some little pride.'

Perhaps he is mad,' said Hetty vaguely. Just at this moment, as a salve to her wounded vanity, she would have been glad to believe him so.

'No, my dear,' declared Lily calmly; 'he has no brains worth turning.'

'He said something, papa, about calling to-day at four o'clock,' said Katie very faintly.

'Then I shall sit here till four,' returned Mr. Brownrig, in an awful tone. I shall sit here until five; and then I shall get up, and go out and find that young man, and give him such a horse-whipping as I warrant you he never got before in all his life.'

'Don't be too hard on him, papa,' entreated Katie weakly.

I sha'n't, my dear, but my whip will,' said papa grimly.

So he waited until five; he waited till half-past five; and then he took up a certain heavy goldknobbed whip that lay stretched on the table as though in readiness, and sallied forth in search of Snooks's rooms. And he found them, and Snooks too-in bed, suffering from a severe catarrh, caught, I presume, in the laurel

avenue.

And no man knows what he did to Snooks. But at least he gave him an increased desire for his bed, because for a fortnight afterwards he never stirred out of it.

When Mr. Wilding heard of all this, I regret to say he gave way to noisy mirth in the privacy of his chambers; and was actually caught by his washerwoman-who peeped through the keyhole-performing a wild dance in the middle of the floor.

THE VIOLIN-PLAYER. BY BERTHA THOMAS, AUTHOR OF 'PROUD MAISIE.'

CHAPTER XXV.

MIRAMAR: A PAGE OF A

MANAGER'S DIARY.

WHEN Cuscus, some thirty years hence, publishes his 'Recollections,' from materials accumulating in a journal he keeps for the purpose, he will make a piquant chapter out of a certain excursion to Miramar, on the Lake of Como. He foresaw that, and was careful to jot down in his memory the little incidents of the day, the laughable misadventures that befell, the practical jokes, the bons mots spoken, and so forth, from the moment when his party left their hotel, up to the unexpected dénouement which deprived him of two members of his troupe at once.

Three weeks over-(he wrote in his diary the night before)without a fracas. It is the calm before the squall. Come it must, as I knew when I found I had got two queen bees in my hive. They always fight till one is killed. Mdile. Therval is not jealous or vindictive, I begin to think; but one is quite enough to make a quarrel, whatever people may say, when that one is a jealous woman.

Our Suonatrice carries all before her, including our own party, for no one grudges her her success. Stranger still, it doesn't seem to elate her-more's the pity. I consider a dose or two of self-conceit quite an essential stimulant in our profession. O these women! Always in extremes ! Either

they make us blush for human nature, or-nothing will satisfy them but they must be too good for this world.

Regina sings more and more out of tune, but her dimples and dresses bring down the house sometimes. She regularly embraces Mdlle. Therval every night,

to show us all that she isn't

jealous. Her amiability surprises every one I only know the cause. She scents a mystery, and has cast herself for the part of the heroine. Heaven forgive me! I am partly to blame for her delusion. Hints I dropped about great personages in disguiseprinces turned wandering minstrels, in order the more easily to approach the object of their affections-put her on the track. I meant to mystify her only; but Regina went and appropriated the allusions, just as she appropriated the bouquet meant for Malle. Therval. She has a perfect kleptomania for attentions. She has become quite polite to Tristan ; she no longer complains of having to sing duets with him, and is stone-blind to it that he is stonedeaf to the wiles of the siren. She has given the others to understand that she is the cause of his melancholy, and they laughingly condole with her on her conquest. The comedy of errors approaches its climax.

Our basso has not betrayed himself yet. He gets through with his singing, and holds his peace, for the most part, at other

times; but I suspect he has already had enough of Bohemian life, and the manners and customs of some of us are a sore trial to his fastidious nerves. When Mdlle. Visconti conveys peas into her mouth with her knife, when the unblushing Erlanger cracks the most astonishing jokes for our edification over the dinner-table, his eyes seek out Malle. Therval with a joint compassion and devotion that is really touching.

The sun shone bright for us that memorable morning. Every one was in good spirits, of course. We always must be in good spirits; it is forbidden us to think about the clouds of yesterday or to-morrow. Regret and anxiety are the heavy luggage of life, and artists. must leave it behind, if they are to do their duty properly, which is to help other people to forget their cares. There were plenty of serious tourists on board the steamer from Como that morning, with guide-books, waterproofs, and solemn countenances and wellregulated minds. We noticed how bored they looked. They stared with astonishment at our party, who never seemed to want for something to talk and laugh about. Presently an Englishman came sauntering towards us, I suppose to pick up some crumbs of amusement. Erlanger was at his pleasantries as usual, now mimicking the captain of the boat, his walk, swagger, his peculiar habit of igniting a match on his trousers; now bantering the peasants, of which there were numbers on board, and speculating on the probable contents of their large baskets. One old woman volunteered to open hers for him, and out sprang a large bird with clipped wings-an owl, she said -which she used her utmost eloquence to persuade him to buy. The son of Albion soon had

enough of us, and rejoined his mamma and sisters under the awning.

The palazzo Miramar overlooks the lake, and stands but a few paces from a little landing-place. It is not shown to visitors, and no tourists came on shore at the pier but ourselves.

About as like a barn as a palazzo,' observed Erlanger critically, as we strolled up to the entrance. Just a handsome stone balcony, a screen to hide the pasteboard house behind.'

'But the situation is good,' Regina observed soothingly. Ah, if she were the owner of the place, or had a voice in the matter, she would turn it into a very paradise of pleasure; and she went on naïvely to describe to Tristan the improvements she would introduce into the external arrangements of house and garden.

An old housekeeper stood on guard in the doorway, evidently prepared for the incursion. She

received us with some ceremony, offered us refreshment, and then escorted us leisurely over the first and second floors.

'Poor relation of the Baron's,' said Erlanger, aside, to Mdlle. Therval. Puts her in charge here. Gives her a home and saves himself a servant. Charity and economy combined. Clever! Cuscus, what are you laughing at?'

'She must be under orders from her master, or cousin, or whatever he is,' whispered our tenor, to treat us so civilly. Never in my life before have I been well received by a single woman in charge of an empty house.'

Do you hear what he says? caught up Erlanger the incorrigible. 'Never in his life before has he been well received by a single woman in charge of an empty house!' And our primo

amoroso, who is always boasting of his conquests off the stage, was overwhelmed with malicious condolences.

I saw nothing worth noticing in the first two stories of the palazzo; but had we been passing through a museum of wonders we could not have examined each object, as it presented itself to our view, more gravely and carefully. It has unluckily got known among them that I keep a diary; and, on occasions of this sort, they swarm round me officiously, supplying me with facts, divers and interesting, for my journal. Not an item of the baronial furniture or lumber escaped minute scrutiny. There was Erlanger, putting on his eyeglasses to look at an old broken water-jug; our tenor delicately fingering a window-curtain of faded chintz he took for old tapestry. Only Tristan showed a decided want of interest in the details of Miramar's domestic arrangements. As to Mdlle. Visconti, she ran about prying into nooks and corners with untiring curiosity and energy, ransacking drawers, peeping behind curtains, pulling open chiffoniers and cabinets, remarking on their contents, and admiring everything promiscuously.

'Look, look!' she cried suddenly, in a tone of delight, pointing to a shelf in the cupboard she had thrown open to inspection. The beautiful blue jar!'

'There's for you, Cuscus !' they shouted with one accord. 'Where are your tablets? Put it down. "Here we admired especially an ultramarine vase, of unique Indian ware.""

'What a shame! to leave it knocking about in an old cupboard!' said Regina.

'I shall write and tell Miramar his aunt doesn't look properly after his belongings,' said Erlanger

languidly. 'Take care what you're doing, Tristan. Don't meddle with the pottery. Who breaks, pays, you know. Miramar is a miser, I can tell that, from the look of his house.'

Our basso had laid hold of the 'vase' with no gingerly fingers, and, turning it round, displayed the label on the other side'Lazenby, London, Pickles; a discovery that provoked fresh mirth, and the laugh was against Mdlle. Visconti.

By this time most of us-myself for one-had quite forgotten that we had come here expressly to see a magnificent collection of musical instruments, unique in Italy, and that constituted in fact the only point of distinction between this and a score of other country houses on the lake.

We were reminded when we got up to the third story, where the treasures were kept in a small room opening upon the balcony we had admired from below. Here we found something worth the attention we gave it. The first Baron Miramar, who didn't know one note from another, had a mania for collecting instruments of music, ancient and modern. His son, the amateur, regards this as the most valuable part of his inheritance. Mdlle. Visconti's eyes wandered about from one glass case to another, seeking for something to covet.

'If you had your choice of all these,' she began characteristically at last, which would you select?'

6

It was an embarras de richesse indeed, and we all found some difficulty in making up our minds. Erlanger professed himself much fascinated by an Indian flute, made of an enemy's bone. 'There's harmony out of discord for you,' he remarked admiringly. For my part, I gave the preference to a double pipe; flute and tobacco

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