"Look, here she comes; the very impersonation of Bret Harte's heroine

"Etat twenty, complexion fair,

Rich, good-looking, and debonnair."

Perhaps I might omit the 'rich;' but she is, at any rate, on the look-out for riches, next best thing, of course-clever Mab!"

Cecile laughed a little also, a good deal, struck at the same time by Miss Power's appearance. Waxlight was truly Mabel's day, it showed her off to perfection; her neck pure, snowy as marble, rose out of her pale-green corsage like a lily from its foliage. Drooping tendrils of the same verdant hue twined amidst her shining tresses. Her eyes sparkled; art lent its aid where nature was niggardly, crimsoning the full lips and darkening the light brows. Her arms-models for proportion, mould, and whitenessglittered with bands of gold. A circlet of the same enclosed her throat, completing a toilette whose undulating wreaths of green and gold combined to bring forth in special lustre the waxy fairness of the wearer. She nodded en passant to Fred, but ignored Cecile's proximity, it being a strict article in her code of etiquette to see nobody in a ball-room beyond a partner present, or possible.

"You never will learn the way of the world, Cecy," commented Fred, quite amused. Nor understand there are moments when it is legitimate to cut one's nearest and dearest. Be consoled; our waltz is striking up-Avonçons."

"Did Frances and Lily come with you?" she asked presently.

"I believe we all came, as you express it, under the same cover. If your visual organs were penetrating enough, you might, beyond yonder crowd, behold Fan discoursing -isms and -ologies with young Mandeverer, who was plucked last term, and never hopes to take out his degree. Here we are opposite the happy pair. Observe the male victim's physiognomy; he has precisely the look of a man swallowing a pill!"

"I wonder Fan talks to him."

"I introduced them. She does not know anything about him, and I told her he was immensely clever, but so modest that he endeavoured to conceal his profundity under a show of simplicity; so there she is digging away for the precious metal that does not exist. I like absurdities. These blue girls in acquiring our faculties frequently lose their own. Now, perception is a strong point naturally in women; but Fan has not a scrap. She believes that fellow is clever, with dunce as plainly written on his forehead as if the foolscap were round it already."

"Where is Lily?"

"Behold her in the dizzy mazes of the dance, gyrating at the rate of twenty miles an hour. Lily is in her element but don't accost

her. She is even more oblivious than Mab of her relations in public places. Hush! the music ceases, muscular action is suspended, partnership dissolved, and for a short time I must restore you to your ancient chaperon-must I?"

Yes, the must was sad but inevitable. Uncle Oliver, the very embodiment of vigilance, stood in too close proximity to be escaped, and beside him stood a friend, seemingly of the Colonel Hughes type. Cecy hated his friends, but that did not matter; she had to undergo the unwelcome introduction, and consequent mild exercise framed on the precept, "It is the pace that kills." Then there was Mr. Lindores' quadrille, during which penitential performance she had the satisfaction of feeling herself the object of unmitigated horror and contempt from Fred, who leant gloomily against an adjacent doorway, and the instant the quadrille ended drew her off unceremoniously, muttering

"How could you be so silly as to dance with that creature, Cecy?"

"I could not help it. What will you say when I tell you we came here in his carriage?"

"Cut him in future, as I do. Did you note the frigid bow I gave him? He is not in our set!" quoth Fred, loftily.

"How is it he comes here ?"

"Money-violà tout. He is one of les nouveaux riches, and has the superintendence of some respectable properties, ours amongst the number. He is disgustingly well off, I assure you. By-thebye, he has bought your old place-hasn't he?"

"Yes." Cecile's eyes flashed, then her feelings subsided into a sigh. "Uncle Oliver seems to like him very much," she added, ashamed of her angry resentment.

Fred laughed.

"Uncle Oliver likes only people whom everybody else dislikesthat is his special idiosyncracy. I hate Lindores, and I think you should also, considering the fellow stands in your brother's rightful shoes. The idea of his asking you to dance! I positively can pursue the subject with patience no longer. Come to Frances; she wants to speak to you."

"How are you getting on, Cecy?" inquired Miss Macnamara. "Is it not wretched amusement? Now, confess my matinée was far more rational.”

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Miss De Burgh," interposed Fred.

"I am horribly illiterate you know, Fan, and-"

"There, don't go on; you are like the rest of the world, I fear," mourned Frances, solemnly, as Lily, in a cloud of diaphanous

draperies floated by, and Uncle Oliver came elbowing his way through the whirlers.

"Half-past one Cecy. Won't wait another minute."

"Half-past one! Why, the evening is only just beginning, and she has had no supper yet. Whoever heard of leaving a ball without feeding?" objected Fred.

"Don't care. Plenty of refreshment going all night, and I have had supper. Three hours pirouetting ought to suffice, even a modern grandniece of the period."

There was no help for it, despite Fred's accusation of a breach of promise, regarding the far-down mazurka-despite even Fan's entreaties,-Cecy had to obey. Fred escorted her faithfully downstairs, whispering vows of deadly vengeance should Mr. Lindores or his carriage be in presumptuous waiting to convey her home. But neither was visible this time; so, in happy exchange, Cecy-pretty dress and all-was huddled into the first dirty cab Uncle Oliver could hail: sic transit gloria mundi.

CHAPTER VIII.

COME, LET US BE MERRY TO-NIGHT."

"I DON'T know how it is, Cecy, but the saying Good-bye to you feels twice as bad as parting from all the rest. I wish I hadn't to go to-morrow-I hate the idea of Russia-I am sure the climate will kill me. However, that matters little-nobody cares for younger brothers; they must accept and be thankful for the crumbs, the dregs of independence, whilst the eldest born is lapped in luxury. Primogeniture is a horrible law. Now, if I were a Frenchman I should be entitled to a good slice off Derrycarne-four or five hundred a year, at any rate, and poor Percy who has grown tired of the navy and is always threatening to leave it, would be able to do what he liked also."

"But if that were law, wouldn't Derrycarne be very small?" ventured Cecy. There would have been your uncles?"

Hang my uncles! you are growing as cold and calculating as Fan, who told me last night I ought to be thankful for the chance of being frozen to death, or having my hair ruined by the plica polonica."

"I don't know what that is."

"It is a horrid disease, very painful and unbecoming, every separate hair swells and expands to the thickness of your finger. Fancy me returning some years hence, my head apparently crowned with tubers in a high state of vegetation!"'

“Oh,” and Cecy absolutely shuddered at the hideous possibility

of Fred's waving chevalure being transformed into a garden of

roots.

"And there's the Patrick's ball," went on Mr. Macnamara, piteously. "I'm losing it, too, and yet you'll go and forget me. I thought you had a softer nature, Cecy."

Poor Cecy Was she likely to forget him whose society had formed the very sunshine of her life lately, whose every word, every look lay treasured within her very heart? She was silent through fear of saying too much.

"You seem quite indifferent, Cecy;

you."

"Oh, Fred, I care-you know I do." Mr. Macnamara was mollified.

and I care so much for

She fairly broke down.

"There, don't cry, child! I believe you, and it will be a comfort to me, when far away, to feel there is one who will sometimes cast a thought to the poor exile. But, Cecy, I want something more. Could you promise to care for me-to be constant to me through possible years of separation ?"

Fred's voice sounded awfully tender, and he genuinely felt so at the moment. He became impatient at Cecy's start, hesitation, and dead silence. Poor child; her heart was suddenly conscious of reciprocating Fred's avowed sentiments, and with this consciousness rose another, the consequent disapproval and anger of her grandmother and Uncle Oliver--especially Uncle Oliver. She remembered his look of pleasure at the ball when, en passant, some words of Fred's bad news must have reached his ears.

"Cecy, I know what keeps you silent," urged Fred, mournfully. "Fear of that bothering old pair, grandmamma and granduncle; I am quite aware they dislike me. They have only just one little crime to lay to my charge, and that is that I am a younger brother. Now, if Crofton, who is a chronic invalid, were to propose to you, they would be perfectly enchanted !''

"Oh, no," interrupted Cecy, with a dread recollection of the one half-hour she had spent in Crofton's society.

"I tell you they would," persisted Fred; "and that is why, if you care for me at all (which I almost doubt), our engagement must be a private, secret one. I'm heir presumptive, at any rate; and perhaps some day, in the dim future, your amiable guardians will be glad to acknowledge me. Cecy, will you give me the promise I ask? I shall go away miserable if you refuse."

"What am I to promise?" she faltered.

"That you will be true to me till I come home again. There, you are my good little Cecy; how happy I will be, knowing you care even a wee, wee bit for me! Heigho! here comes Lily. Wait till you hear the insufferable amount of nonsense the small

doll will enunciate, the platitudes she will rehearse for my benefit. -Hullo, Lily, are not you sorry to lose your only available brother, for going out?"

“Of course, very," responded Lily, absently, her mind being at the moment distracted, evolving the trying question whether she could conscientiously give young Dacre of the Greys, four dances at the next ball. "But then, Fred, one should do one's duty and keep up."

Delightful sentiment and logic! It is pleasant to belong to a really affectionate family," sneered Fred. "I shall depart perfectly steeped in essence of regret. Fan, too, is I believe composing a farewell ode in my honour."

that

"Oh, that is to me a surprise! She will be quite disappointed you know it."

"Confound her surprise and disappointment! what good will accrue to me from a maudlin set of verses, whose rhyming cost more thought than their subject?" retorted Fred, as Frances entered and had the gas lit.

"Fred, dear," she began, in the pompous, superior tone Fred hated. "Don't look so depressed; it is not right, and makes mamma really unhappy. This is our last evening, and--"

"You need not remind me of that. Are not all my cousins, to the remotest degree, invited to celebrate the auspicious event?"¿ "No; only your two favourites-Cecy and Mab."

"Pray, don't class them together," cried Fred hastily. "They are opposite poles-queen Mab is

"What!" demanded her majesty's self, sailing in all her evening glory into the room and glancing suspiciously round the group. "Pray finish you sentence, Master Fred; what is queen Mab made of-made of?" She affected a playful accent, but her eyes gleamed angrily.

Well, if not of every creature's best, at least of Rimmel and Rachel's best," answered Fred, tormentingly. "I am in a morose mood to-night, Mab; so beware."

I'm sorry

I came."

"A perfect brute, indeed!" said Mab. "There, don't pout; a good woman you are, and there's plenty of you."

Mab relented, and sat beside Fred, smiling and talking till tea, after which Frances solemnly produced the song she had specially written for the occasion.

"I have set it to an easy air," she announced, placing herself at the piano; so that all can join. I shall read it over first," and she unfolded her paper.

The very beginning line woke Fred's indignation. "Come, let us be merry to-night." He had expected a small epic immortalis.