At the top they turn sharply to the right—a bit of rickety street; an old gate; a sonorous drawbridge; a magnificent glimpse of the sparkling waves and quaint old town-and they bowl down a steep incline into the valley where flows the brook that comes, with many a mile of twist and turn, from the cascade they are going to

see.

Mr. Hatchard is sitting immersed in meditation, with his nose in the air and a benevolent smile fixed on his meek face, as if he wished everybody to imagine that he fully appreciated their witticisms, though not with them in the spirit. Dane profits by the worthy clergyman's abstraction and the driver's ignorance of English, and makes the pace very hot for Minnie. He is very handsome, his voice is very tender-especially when he looks up at her like that—and he is doing all he knows. Wonderful it is how speeches the most commonplace waken into life and freshness when they are spoken in that soft, half-whispered murmur; wonderful it is also how a pair of good eyes can underline one of those said speeches.

And Minnie had made up her mind so fully to be very good, to defy Dane and all his works, to bring back the smile to poor old Crabs' face.

But somehow gaiety is contagious. Dane is so agreeable, so brilliant, so-so much in love with her; and les absents ont toujours tort;' and les absents have lost their opportunity, while some one else has made one for himself. No woman likes neglect -even from a guardian. Equally true is it that every woman likes admiration and devotion-even from a rich man.

She

Lord Baccarat is ensconced between Miss Peverel and Mrs. Morant. Deserted by the fair widow, who is carrying on a murderous warfare of chaff with the Colonel, and now and then even pitching a shell at Jim opposite, he cultivates Miss Peverel. is a modest virgin, who does not venture a remark till she be addressed; dowdy as to costume, washed-out in countenance. Her face is one of those one always has seen before, but cannot remember where; she is staying here with an invalid mother; she tinkles on the piano, and has been known on more than one occasion to warble Maid of Athens, ere we part.' Finally, she is fabulously

rich.

'Jolly breeze,' remarks Baccarat, as a feeler; 'eh ?'

'Yes?' says the maiden inquiringly, looking deeply interested. 'Breeze-capital thing for health,' he continues, urged to further efforts by her note of interrogation. Eh?'

" Yes?' as before. "Yes?' after a pause.

'Had a breeze always,'-urged on again, at Beggar's Bush.' "Yes?' fastening her eyes on his, as though entranced at his words of mystery.

'Barracks, you know-Dublin,' he pursues.

'Yes? O, yes?' still more interested.

When we were at Beggar's Bush,' he begins again, desperately feeling that he shall not be able to carry on the deceptive interest, that was last year'

'O, yes?' much impressed by this original thought.

'Well-0, well,' with a jerk, we generally had a breezegenerally. Eh ?'

A pause. She is thinking over it. Then quickly, 'Yes? O, yes?' But the Nose is not to be lured into eloquence again. Then, with a sigh, How nice!'

A stoppage. They are at the foot of a tremendous hill. The driver swings himself down, and furtively lights his half-smoked pipe. Dane is up on the box, and off it, holding out both hands to Minnie, who follows suit. So also, from behind, the Colonel and his fair antagonist, Jim and Baccarat.

As he descends, Captain Tregarvan catches a little imploring glance from Minnie. Why don't you come and make it up?' shaped from her pouting lips.

He pretends not to see; and carefully rolls a cigarette, steeling his mind against her the while. No, he does not love her; no, he has not loved her-more fool he if he did. At his age, too! What a flirt she is becoming though! Poor child; spoilt by her first season. He can see it all now.

And Minnie is watching his dear angry face, and wondering why a look from him should be so much more to her than speech from any other. Why has she been so furious with him when he leaves her like this to Dane? Why has she thought of him so much this last week, and longed so passionately to chase the cloud from his face, and be again as they were in those first few happy days? He despises her now, perhaps ; she is not elevated enough, not formed enough for him. How cold he is, how polite! If only he could feel the throbbing of that hot little heart!

The horses are toiling up the hill. The voices are wandering unequally on ahead. Minnie is resting for a moment on the grassy bank.

'What lovely flowers!' she exclaims, her eye catching a splendid mass of colour over the way, as she wakes from her reverie.

'Let me get you some,' offers Dane eagerly, springing up and crossing the road in two strides.

As he scrambles up the bank she rises with sudden vexation, lest he should think she wanted to prolong the tête-à-tête.

'No, no, no,' she cries; please don't, Mr. Dane. They are nearly at the top of the hill now, and we shall keep them waiting.'

'Let 'em wait!' growls Regy, grabbing at every flower he sees, with masculine disregard of the undue inequality of stem. 'I don't walk up hills with you every day, you see, Miss Goring.'

'O, do come down,' she persists; and with irritation, I can't bear wild flowers.'

At last he descends, with earth-stained hands and a huge bunch of variety.

'You don't like wild flowers?' he repeats, coming close to her, and picking out the prettiest to make into a buttonhole.

'No, I don't,' answers she petulantly; I hate them. That is, I think they look all very well on that bank, but on me-no.' 'But this,' he continues, proffering the little bouquet, and dropping the rest, this isn't very extensive. Won't you wear it, -Minnie ?'

for me

He is bending over her, trying to look into her eyes. Vexed with herself and him-vexed with Jim for deserting her, and yet tenderly longing it were his voice so softly sounding in her ears—it is not now surely he should speak thus.

Haven't I just told you I hate weeds?' very angrily.

what do you mean by calling me—'

'And

In that case,' interrupts he, tossing away the posy with much disdain, all I have to do is to apologise to Miss Goring for accrediting her with so vulgar a taste.'

Minnie's heart smites her, and she repentantly dashes after the despised flowers.

'I didn't mean it, Mr. Dane. There,' pinning them on to her dress, and smiling up at him shamefacedly, I'll wear them, if they must wither somewhere. But I really don't care for wild flowers.' Which concession, as most concessions do, comes too late, and leaves Regy as glumpy as before.

Yet when they arrive at the top of the hill and resume their places in the wagonette, Jim observes the flowers, and makes up for his own delectation a pretty little picture of rural felicity; though of course it cannot matter to him. Dane is a good match, and she could hardly find a man who combines more fully all recommendations to female preference.

In the inmost depths of his heart, nevertheless, he curses the 'good match' by all his gods, and all the time feels that he is personally nothing more or less than a dog in the manger. He would, forsooth, deny Minnie to a man deserving of her, because he cannot take her himself.

'Yes, I would,' he thinks bitterly; I would. My darling, I can't lose you!' But he knows there is no help for him now; for all that, his thoughts struggle against his despair.

A mile along the flat, another hill, and they look down upon the Vallée de la Cascade. Through fair green meads glitters again the stream that flows, so swift and brawling here, so sluggishly into the harbour silt of Malaise. It bursts out of the forest that rises away there to the spire of the chapelle, hurries along the rich

banks and their sturdy willows, now and then turning the wheel of some picturesque old mill, now and then leaping down a salmonrace, glides through the quaint little village on the roadside, under the low bridge, past all those chattering washerwomen, those meditative anglers, and swirls out of sight round the wooded spur of rock.

A moment to put on the drag. They descend swiftly.

'Who on earth is that telegraphing to us?' cries Minnie.

Towards them is galloping at full speed, blue-veiled hat in hand, legs at an angle of forty-five to the saddle, an elaborate, highshouldered, dust-coated figure. It approaches; it is close up; it shoots past with much gesticulation.

Out for a Noliday, perhaps,' suggests Dane, recovering his spirits.

'Looks as if he had mistaken his way to Epsom,' says Baccarat. 'Eh?'

'Been to a costumier's, I should think,' from Jim. for sporting gent.'

• Made up

Meanwhile the dust-coat has turned, and comes after them with more caution, jig-jog, jig-jog, till they stop at the hill-foot. Apparently it had selected the rising ground as an eligible spot for the display of horsemanship, from the fact that it is more difficult for the equine race to get rid of their burden uphill than on the flat. They pull up.

The party of the Collonel Ferrers?' bows the cavalier. Good. Permit that I present myself—Le Baron d'Etrier, one of the friends of ce cher Camille-as escort to the equipage of our host.'

A few more turns of the wheels, a few more demi-voltes of the Rosinante in attendance, round a corner, and lo, they are alongside of a carriage drawn up against the hedge.

Velcome! 'Ourah! Velcôme the ladies! velcôme the genteelmens! All velcôme! 'Ourah!'

Latour, in irreproachable redingote, snowy waistcoat, lavender continuations, white hat, and straw-coloured gloves, stands on the box, enthusiastically waving his pocket-handkerchief with one hand and saluting with the other. Inside, a quaint meagre little old lady, a fat red-faced old lady, a fat stolid mutton-chop-whiskered propriétaire, and a tiny dark priest, with a face like a nutcracker and bead-like eyes, all stand and wave cambric.

After this greeting, upon which Camille had devoted much thought, and finally chosen out of a host of other inspirations as being concise, to the point, and thoroughly British, he proceeds from his coign of vantage to introduce the two carriages to each other.

'Mademoiselle de la Radotte, ma belle sœur; Monsieur et Madame Chalumeau; Monsieur le Curé.'

'J'ai bien l'honneur de saluer messieurs et dames,' with an antique curtsey from Latour's relative.

The soutane executed a bow à l'abbé Louis Quatorze. From Chalumeau a hasty unhatting, as though he feared a sunstroke, and then, in praiseworthy imitation of his host: Howyoudo? 'Ourah!'

Civilities having thus been exchanged, and everybody knowing everybody, the cavalcade gets under weigh once more, and shortly arriving at a pleasant green-blinded villa just under the brow of the hill, is duly deposited with much pomp at the door.

Enter to them in the salon slaves with rafraichissementsices, lemonade, sorbets, wine.

More arrivals. Two pretty girls from a neighbouring house, in charge of a white-capped bonne. They are English apparently, for they enjoy themselves during the day to an extent no French demoiselle would think of doing. Next, a handsome young Briton, with a weakly-looking wife, who lives in a chronic state of jealousy scarcely mitigated by his flirting promiscuously and indiscriminately with the two pretty girls till the party breaks up. Next, a dishevelled but good-looking young Gaul, with a guitar and a fine baritone voice, who completes the invitation list.

CHAPTER X.

VOICI TON MAITRE.'

CAMILLE has been fluttering about, impartially attending to the wants of his guests and paying the neatest of compliments to the 'sex,' which on this occasion, under the auspicious influences of fine weather and strawberry-vanille, seems specially disposed to be gracious, and he now proposes a move to the chapelle de Notre Dame de Malaise.

Allons, messieurs, to your duty! We go to the chapelle with Mons. le Curé; we go to the cascade and the strawberries, with those ladies who will not object to a little climbing; and we all meet in an hour in the ruins of the abbaye, where you must piquenique with me.'

This programme being received with much applause, the little man takes off Mrs. Ferrers and the Curé, closely followed by Colonel Ferrers, who is explaining to Mdlle. de la Radotte, in very weak French and a good deal of dumbshow, the history of the Redan. She feigns, with the utmost courtesy, to understand perfectly all he says, and farther, to be deeply interested in it-a course of action which results in the Colonel subsequently telling his wife he never met a woman who could converse so sensibly before.'

The rest straggle along in loose order, talking à qui mieux