ing lashes that creates in Florence a mad desire to box her ears.

'You forget it will not hasten the train five seconds Guy's leaving this sooner than he does,' she says, snubbingly. To picture him sitting in a draughty station could not-I should think-give satisfaction to anyone.'

'It could'-wilfully-to me. It would show a proper anxiety to obey my behests. Guardy,' with touching concern, are you sure you are warm enough? Now do promise me one thing-that you will beware of the crossings; they say any number of old men come to grief in that way yearly, and are run over through deafness, or short sight, or stupidity in general. Think how horrid it would be, if they sent us home your mangled remains."'

6

Go in, you naughty child, and learn to speak to your elders with respect,' says Guy, laughing, and putting her bodily inside the hall-door, from whence she trips out again to wave him a last adieu, and kiss her hand warmly to him as he disappears round the corner of the laurustinus bush.

And Sir Guy drives away full of his ward's fresh girlish loveliness, her slender, lissome figure, her laughing face, the thousand tantalising graces that go to make her what she is; forgetful of Miss Beauchamp's more matured charms-her white gown-her honeyed words—everything.

All day long Lilian's image follows him: it is beside him in the crowded street, enters his club with him, haunts him in his business, laughs at him in his most serious moods. While she, at home, scarce thinks of him at all, or at the most vaguely, though, when at five he does return, she is the first to greet him.

'He has come home. He is here," she cries, dancing into the hall. Have you escaped the crossings? and rheumatism? and your old enemy, lumbago? Good old Guardy, let me help you off with your coat.

So. Positively he is all here-not a bit of him gone -and none the worse for wear!'

Tired, Guy?' asks Florence, coming gracefully forward-slowly-lest by unseemly haste she should disturb the perfect fold of her train, that sets off her figure to such advantage. She speaks warmly, appropriatingly, as one's wife might, after a long jour

ney.

'Tired! not he,' returns Lilian, irreverently: he is quite a gay old gentleman. Nor hungry either. No doubt he has lunched profusely in town, "not wisely, but too well," as somebody says. Where are my sweeties, Sir Ancient?'

'My dear Lilian '-rebukingly- if you reflect, you will see he must be both tired and hungry.'

'So am I for my creams-I quite pine for them. Sir Guy, where are my sweeties?'

'Here, little cormorant,' says Guy, as fondly as he dares, handing her a gigantic bonbonnière in which chocolates and French sweetmeats fight for mastery. 'Have I got what you wanted?'

'Yes, indeed; best of Guardys, I only wish I might kiss my thanks.'

'You may.'

'Better not. Such a condescension on my part might turn your old head. Oh! Taffy,' with an exclamation, 'you bad, greedy boy! you have taken half my almonds! well, you shan't have any of the others, for punishment. Auntie, and Florence, and I will eat the rest.'

'Thanks,' drawls Florence, languidly; 'but I am always so terrified about tooth-ache."

'What a pity,' says Miss Chesney. "If I had toothache I should have all my teeth drawn instantly, and false ones put in their place.'

To this Miss Beauchamp, being undecided in her own mind as to whether it is or is not an impertinence, deigns no reply. Cyril, with a gravity that belies his

innermost feelings, gazes hard at Lilian, only to ac knowledge her innocent of desire to offend.

'You did not meet Archibald?' asks Lady Chetwoode of Guy.

'No; I suppose he will be down by next train. Chesney is always up to time.'

'Lilian, my dear, where is my fourth knittingneedle?' asks Auntie, mildly. I lent it to you this morning for some purpose.'

It is upstairs; you shall have it in one moment,' returns Lilian, moving towards the door; and Sir Guy, muttering something about getting rid of the dust of travel, follows her out of the room.

At the foot of the stairs he says,

'Lilian.'

"Yes?'

'I have brought you yet another bonbon. Will you accept it?'

As he speaks he holds out to her an open case, in which lies a pretty ring composed of pearls and diamonds.

6

"For me? Oh, Sir Guy!' says Lilian, flushing with pleasure, what a lovely present to bring me.' Then her expression changes, and her face falls somewhat. She has lived long enough to know that young men do not, as a rule, go about giving costly rings to young women without a motive. Perhaps she ought to refuse it. Perhaps Auntie would think it wrong of her to take it. And if there is really anything between him and Florence? Yet what a pretty ring it is, and how the diamonds glitter! And what woman can resign diamonds without a struggle?

'Will Auntie be vexed if I take it?' she asks honestly, after a pause, raising her clear eyes to his, thereby betraying the fear that is tormenting her.

ს

Why should she? Surely,' with a smile, 'an elderly guardian may make a present to his youthful ward without being brought to task for it.'

'And Florence?' asks Lilian, speaking impulsively, but half jestingly.

'Does it signify what she thinks?' returns he, a little stiffly. It is a mere bauble, and scarcely worth so much thought. You remember that day down by the stream, when you said you were so fond of rings?' 'No.'

6

Well, I do, as I remember most things you say, be they kind or cruel,' softly. To-day, though I cannot explain why, this ring reminded me of you, so I bought it, thinking you might fancy it.'

'So I do; it is quite too lovely,' says Lilian, feeling as though she had been ungracious, and, what is worse, prudish. Thank you very much. I shall wear it this evening with my new dress, and it will help me to make an impression on my unknown cousin.'

She holds out her hand to him; it is the right one, and Guy slips the ring upon the third finger of it, while she, forgetting it is the engaged finger, makes no objection.

Sir Guy, still holding the little cool, slim hand, looks at her fixedly, and looking, decides regretfully she is quite ignorant of his meaning.

'How it sparkles,' she says, moving her hand gently to and fro, so that the light falls upon it from different directions. Thank you again, Guardy; you are always better to me than I deserve.' She says this warmly, being desirous of removing all traces of her late hesitation, and quite oblivious of her former scruples. But the moment she leaves him she remembers them again; and coming downstairs with Lady Chetwoode's needle, and finding her alone, says with a heightened colour, 'See what a charming present Sir Guy has brought me.'

"Very pretty indeed,' Lady Chetwoode says, examining the ring with interest. Dear Guy has such taste, and he is always so thoughtful, ever thinking how to please some one. I am glad it has been you

this time, pussy,' kissing the girl's smiling lips as she bends over her. So that Miss Chesney, reassured by her Auntie's kind words, goes up to dress for the reception of her cousin Archibald, with a clear, and therefore happy, conscience. Not for all the diamonds in Christendom would she have concealed even so small a secret as the acceptance of this ring, from one whom she professes to love, and who she knows trusts in her.

CHAPTER XIV.

Kate. I never saw a better fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable.'

Taming of the Shrew.

THIS dressing of Lilian for the undoing of her cousin is a wonderful affair, and occupies a considerable time. Not that she spends any of it in a dainty hesitation over the choice of the gown fated to work his overthrow; all that has been decided on long ago, and the fruit of many days' deep thought now lies upon her bed, bearing in its every fold-in each soft fall of lace -all the distinguishing marks that stamp the work of the inimitable Worth.

At length-Nurse having admired and praised her to her heart's content, and given the last fond finishing touches to her toilette-Miss Chesney stands arrayed for conquest. She is dressed in a marvellous robe of black velvet-cut à la Princesse, simply fashioned, fitting à merveille-being yet in mourning for her father. It is a little open at the throat, so that her neck-soft and fair as a child's-may be partly seen (looking all the whiter for the blackness that frames it in), and has the sleeves very tight and ending at the elbow, from which rich folds of Mechlin lace hang downwards. Around her throat is a narrow band of black velvet and three little strings of pearls that once had been her mother's In her amber hair a single white rose nestles sleepily.