paper are mistaken for the scalding tears for rare flowers, ugly china, parrots, of despair. poodles, or preachers? ICE. Dear me ! FEATH. Why don't you attack her with love verses? they have often been found efficacious in stubborn cases. (Takes the album MRS. FEATHERLEY has been reading.) Something like this sonnet, which Eugenia was reading when you came in and disturbed me. (Reads.) ICE. Ah, yes; she's excessively fond of pets, and was especially attached to a beautiful Angola cat, lately deceased. FEATH. An Angola cat! (Aside.) I know where there's one to be sold. (To ICEBROOK.) Don't take any further trouble in the matter, my dear fellow-Mrs. Swandown is yours-ask me no questions, but I repeat she is yours. (Takes album from "The harp I take, but I can choose no theme, table-aside.) I'll copy the verses this Eugenia, but thyself" What's Mrs. Swandown's name? ICE. Julia! FEATH. Ah! Julia wants another foot. ICE. Nonsense-she's got two already! FEATH. Stupid! I mean the poetry "I can choose no theme, Sweet Julia, but thyself, when thou art nigh. Oh, grant me inspiration from the beam Of liquid light that laughs in either eye, Like twin stars mirror'd in the dimpling stream." Etc., etc., etc. How do you like the style? ICE. Beautiful! Beautiful! There's passion in every line. FEATH. I wrote them to Eugenia before we were married-they gave the finishing blow to her disdain-her heart could not stand a double fire of love and poetry, and I carried off the prize from a dozen envious rivals. ICE. But unfortunately I can't write poetry; the muses nine did not smile upon my natal hour. FEATH. Then you shall have the use of these. I'll warrant them killing; read them, and present them to Mrs. Swandown. They'll do your business for you. (ICEBROOK sits at table reading.) Or stay (aside). He'll ruin everything with his modesty. If I could manage to introduce myself to the widow, and give the verses to her myself, in his name, with an eloquent appeal to her feelings-hinting that her cruelty has driven him to despair and brandy and water, which are rapidly hurrying him to an early grave-it could not possibly fail. Um! but he must know nothing about it; and how am I to introduce myself to her? (To ICEBROOK.) | Frank! has Mrs. Swandown any particular passion? ICE. Passion! What do you allude to? FEATH. Has she any fashionable mania | moment in the library, and then fly to secure the Angola cat. Excuse me, Frank, for a few minutes. ICE. Don't mind me - I'm going. (Exit FEATHERLEY into library, taking album with him.) What a capital fellow he is so frank and generous with men, and so audacious with women. Why should not I be audacious with them too? There's no reason why I shouldn't-nothing seems easier-it's only plucking up a little manly resolution, and marching boldly to the attack. I really fancy I feel sufficient courage at this moment to reveal the state of my heart to Mrs. Swandown. you Enter MRS. SWANDOWN and TRAP. TRAP. My mistress will be home, if ma'am, before one o'clock, will wait. down! I-bless me-my breath is quite ICE. (aside and starting). Mrs. Swangone! MRS. S. No; I think I will leave a note for her, if you will oblige me with writing materials. TRAP. (going to table). They are here, madame. (Arranges writing materials on table and exits.) MRS. S. (perceiving ICEBROOK). Mr. Icebrook! ICE. Yes-ha, ha! How strangely people meet, Mrs. Swandown-I did not know you were acquainted with-ourmy-friends, the Featherleys! MRS. S. My acquaintance with them is as yet confined to Mrs. Featherley. We were friends and school-fellows, but I have not met her since we left Mrs. Twittenham's boarding-school. I heard by accident that she was married and had come to reside in town. I'm told Eugenia's husband is one of the most elegant fellows in London. ICE. Hum-a-yes! He's all very well, but nothing particular. MRS. S. But how is it I find you still in town? Two days ago you were on the wing for Paris! ICE. (with attempted gayety). Yes-yes -but as Horatio says, a truant disposition" keeps me in London. There are attractions which draw us in spite of ourselves, towards-hum-towards-(getting embarrassed)-the-a-that is in the direction of a (aside)-oh, lord! MRS. S. (smiling). I can easily imagine the influence to which you allude, and which must be powerful indeed, since it moves one whom the world believes to be insensible. ICE. (eagerly). Oh, the world don't know me-You don't know me-I don't know myself sometimes-but I feel-(aside)— Good heavens! I'm on the brink of a precipice-one word more and I'm over. Ah-I-can't get it out! Hah! I MRS. S. What's the matter, my dear Mr. Icebrook? you have such a strange look. ICE. Hah! have I? It's nothing, I assure you. I wish you-um-a-goodmorning. Hem! good-morning, Mrs. Swandown (going). MRS. S. Stay a moment-I want your opinion about this ring, which my jeweller has just sent home (holds out her hand). What do you think of it? ICE. Beautiful! superb! magnificent! MRS. S. But you can't see it at that distance come nearer, and look at it closely. How do you like the setting? Emeralds and pearls, you see. ICE. (still at a respectful distance). Nothing can be finer ! MRS. S. But you have not examined the workmanship. Is it not remarkably delicate? (Gives him her hand, which he takes with evident embarrassment.) ICE. Superlatively delicate. (Aside.) I wonder is it her hand or mine that trembles so! MRS. S. (putting her hand close to his face). Are not the pearls beautifully white? ICE. (abstractedly). Deliciously white and-soft. MRS. S. (smiling.) Soft pearls! ICE. (confused). No, no, I meansmooth and taper-no, that's not it. (Aside.) I'm nearly at my last gasp. MRS. S. Yet, do you know, the ring don't altogether please me. It's very pretty, but I should like something more plain. I wish you would select one for me-I leave the choice entirely to your own judgment. ICE. To mine, Mrs. Swandown-to mine? But-I-ha, ha, ha!-you may dislike my choice. MRS. S. Whatever it may be, I promise to wear it. ICE. (aside). A daring thought has entered my head. MRS. S. You can carry back this ring to the jeweller's. ICE. Certainly-that ring-but-a-it's still on your finger. MRS. S. I declare, so it is. Well-ha, ha, ha, ha! you may take it off. ICE. May I? (Aside). I shall never be able to accomplish the delicate operation (endeavoring to get off the ring). This is too trying a situation-five galvanic batteries shooting their electric currents through my body. (He gets the ring off.) Hah! I have it. MRS. S. (aside, and going to table). If that don't make him speak, the man is a downright fool. (ICEBROOK is about to go.) Wait a moment for me while I write a few lines to Mrs. Featherley. ICE. (aside). I hope she's not going to take me in her brougham-I haven't nerve for that. Good gracious!-I'm all in a tremor! (Puts on his hat.) What a sweet little ring! (Kisses the ring.) I hope she didn't see me. MRS. S. (writing). I'm so sorry to keep you, Mr. Icebrook. ICE. Don't mention it-I'm not pressed for time. MRS. S. There (folding note-strikes table-gong). TRAP comes in. When your mistress returns, give her that (Leaves note on table.) Now, Mr. Icebrook. (She takes his arm, to his evident embarrassment-he does not move note. she draws him gently on.) Let us go. and pulls MRS. SWANDOWN after him.) ICE. I-I beg pardon. (Walks rapidly, Exeunt. TRAP. Poor fellow! He don't seem to go comfortable in double harness. Enter FEATHERLEY from library; he reads from a paper the first line or two of the poetry. FEATH. That will do famously-there's a tenderness, a passionate earnestness in the lines that must subdue her, Trap! TRAP. Sir! Enter MRS. FEATHERLEY in a plain walking-dress. FEATH. (looking at his watch). Let my horse be brought round in fifteen minutes--not a minute later. Exit TRAP. MRS. F. Are you going to ride, Felix? FEATH. Just a gallop in the park, my dear, for half an hour. I have still this racking headache, and the fresh air may do me good. MRS. F. Do not seek to make excusesI perceive the constraint you impose upon yourself when compelled to sacrifice any portion of your time in my company-my affectionate solicitude becomes irksome. FEATH. Now, my dear, what could have put such an absurd idea in your head? It's perfectly ridiculous to fancy Enter TRAP, with cards on a salver, which Boots.' FEATH. (aside.) A most fortunate interruption! at Scarborough. I remember one beautiful moonlight evening, while wandering with her on the seashore, I was so carried away by my emotions that I threw myself on my knees in the sand at her feet, andHa, ha, ha! it was decidedly wrong, but I actually made her a declaration of love. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! (Suddenly becoming Enter TRAP, followed by MAJOR and MRS. Mrs. Wellington de Boots. MRS. DE B. Eugenia, my sweet friend! MRS. F. My dear Mrs. de Boots, this is most kind of you. FEATH. Major, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you. MAJOR. Thank you; thank you. We heard you had come to town, and hurried to see you. I have given up my bachelor liberty since we last met-joined the Benedicktine corps. Duty rather severediscipline strict. MRS. DE B. Major! Featherley, you know my Aurelia? FEATH. I have the happiness of reck- Boots. I haven't seen the poor fellow since he was married. I suppose we are at home, my dear? MRS. F. Certainly. Show the lady and gentleman up. Exit TRAP. FEATH. You remember Mrs. de Boots when she was Aurelia Mandeville ?-we used to call her the patient angler. MRS. F. Why, was she an adept in the ungentle craft? MAJOR. Very good. Ha! recover arms! As you were! MRS. DE B. Ha, ha, ha! (She turns to MRS. FEATHERLEY.) Friendship's humble offering. (MRS. FEATHERLEY and MRS. DE BOOTS go up conversing into conservatory.) MAJOR. (suppressing laughter). I say -ha, ha, ha! Featherley-ha, ha, ha! are you aware you kissed my wife? FEATH. Well, my dear fellow, I hope I have given no offence either to you or Mrs. de Boots. FEATH. Oh, a perfect mistress of itbut not in the Waltonian sense-she employed her time in angling for a husband. She knew all the most killing baits for young greenhorns, tough bachelors, and elderly widowers-but somehow, though, poor Aurelia angled year after year at all MAJOR. Me-not in the least. I'm the watering-places in England and the not afraid of you-you're an old friendcontinent, the fish wouldn't bite. At but ecod! I wonder she bore it so quietly length by a lucky cast on the Esplanade,-I dare not take such a liberty with her. at Hastings, she hooked my unwary friend, De Boots, and landed him one fine morning in the parish church, a married man. (Aside.) By the bye, I hope she has forgotten that little flirtation we had FEATH. No! ha, ha, ha! Is she so very particular? MAJOR. Particular! She's a perfect porcupine of female propriety. You should see how she bristles up when I overstep the bounds of delicate deco- | me. rum. FEATH. Ha, ha, ha! But you don't submit to it? MAJOR. I do. It's inconvenient, certainly; but then, my Aurelia is a woman of such refined delicacy, such elevated sentiment, such a— FEATH. Yes, I know. She MAJOR. Quite superior to me. tells me that I can't comprehend her aspirations, because I'm not a homogeneous particle. But she's an exalted woman! In fact, I don't mind telling you, as a friend, I suspect she looks down upon me. FEATH. HOW? Mentally, or physically? MAJOR. Both, both, and I'm proud of it. I'm proud of being the husband of a woman who can look down upon me. FEATH. Well, that's a matter of taste; but I should have fancied that you-a soldier MAJOR. In the militia FEATH. Even in the militia—I thought you would have asserted the dignity of a husband, and have maintained it, like a brave man. MAJOR. My dear Felix-I call you Felix because I believe you're my best friend-I'll confide a secret to you. I'm not a brave man. FEATH. Pooh, nonsense! Everybody knows that beneath that braided breast of yours beats the heart of a lion. MAJOR. Everybody's deceived, as everybody generally is; it's not the heart of a lion, but of a mouse-the meekest of mice. I confess to you, I'm an impostor -a humbug-a swindle; but the fault's not mine-nature and my godfathers and godmothers are alone to blame. Nature bestowed on me a warlike pair of whiskers, and my godfathers and godmothers gave me the name of Wellington. I couldn't help it and so I have been obliged to support the courageous character attached to the name with the smallest amount of pluck that ever fell to the lot of mortal man. FEATH. Ha, ha, ha! Rather a difficult task, Major. But how have you managed to gain a reputation for bravery? MAJOR. By bounce-by tremendous bounce you have no idea how bounce carries a man through the world. FEATH. And your wife-does she believe in your lion courage? MAJOR. Oh, no-ha, ha !-she knows Bounce won't do with her-and she snubs me accordingly. MRS. FEATHERLEY and MRS. DE BOOTS re-enter from the conservatory at the same time. TRAP enters, and gives MRS. FEATHERLEY a card. But then she's such a superior woman. Hem! MRS. DE B. (in a sentimental tone). Felix-pardon the familiarity of former times-I should say, Mr. Featherleyhow very odd; but when I gathered this blushing rose just now-ha, ha!—it brought to mind a sweet sentiment-you may remember FEATH. Oh, yes, I recollect it perfectly! MAJOR. He never forgets anything. MRS. DE B. Major! MAJOR. Present! MRS. F. Will you excuse me, Mrs. de Boots? Our lawyer, whom I must see on particular business, has called. Pray, don't leave till I return-I have a thousand apologies to make. MRS. DE B. Don't mention it, dear Eugenia. (FEATHERLEY goes to door with MRS. FEATHERLEY.) MAJOR. We're in no hurry this morning. MRS. DE B. (apart, to MAJOR). I must have left my handkerchief in the brougham, or dropped it on the stairs. Go and seek for it, Major. MAJOR. Certainly, my love. On the stairs-in the brougham? MRS. DE B. Or somewhere. MAJOR. Or somewhere-I'll be sure to find it if it's somewhere! Exit. MR. and MRS. FEATHERLEY have been conversing apart at the door. MRS. FEATHERLEY now exits and FEATHERLEY comes down on her-MRS. DE BOOTS has seated herself in a pensive attitude at table. FEATH. My dear madame MRS. DE B. (affects to start). Ah, Felix! Excuse my abstraction-Mr. Featherleybut fond memory will bring back the feeling which propriety forbids in present positions-you're married-and I hope happy. FEATH. I have every reason to be so; and you I trust have found happiness in the man you have selected. MRS. DE B. (sighs). Ah! don't probe that wound too deeply. De Boots loves me, but our souls don't assimilate-he's | airs to me, and in the evening we walked not a homogeneous particle. FEATH. But he's a capital little fellow, and so good-tempered. MRS. DE B. Yes, he's tractable enough, but (confidentially) so dreadfully jealous! FEATH. Jealous! Impossible! MRS. DE B. Ah, you might not think it; but he's a white Othello-a perfect demon when his suspicions are aroused. FEATH. But your character, my dear madame, is irreproachable calumny itself never dared to utter a word in disparagement of virtue so impregnable. MRS. DE B. (looking around in alarm). For heaven's sake don't speak so loud. Hah! you don't know the unsuspected thorn that rankles in my bosom-the hidden sorrow that consumes me. FEATH. (aside). She don't seem to waste much by consumption. MRS. DE B. You cannot guess the secret, the terrible secret which I am now going to confide to you. FEATH. To me, madame! to me? The confidence is highly flattering-but excuse the suggestion, would not the Major, your husband, be the proper depository for it? MRS. DE B. He! Oh-no-no! You -you-Felix-pardon my forgetfulness, Mr. Featherley-you are my friend-you are everybody's friend! FEATH. SO I am, but-(aside) what dreadful revelation is she about making? MRS. DE B. Listen to my agonizing recital. (Sits down.) FEATHERLEY runs to the door to see that no one is listening, then returns and sits beside her. FEATH. Now, my dear madame, I am ready for your harrowing history. MRS. DE B. (sighs). I was young, innocent, and confiding, when I first met the most elegant and falsest of men at Ramsgate FEATH. At Ramsgate! (Aside.) Hum! I'm glad it wasn't at Scarborough ! MRS. DE B. Under the aristocratic title of Count Videpoche-he sought to win my affections. FEATH. Miscreant ! MRS. DE B. That, however, I could have forgivenFEATH. could I ! Certainly-certainly-and so MRS. DE B. He sang the newest opera together. MRS. DE B. By the softest of moon light. FEATH. On the sands? MRS. DE B. On the smooth silver sands. FEATH. (aside). Ah, the old story! MRS. DE B. He vowed in the tenderest broken English to love me. FEATH. And, as usual, his vows were as broken as his English. The scoundrel deserted you? MRS. DE B. Worse, far worse, he married me. My little fortune I placed in his hands, and he went to Paris, where soon after-pardon this emotion-the count was arrested one morning at breakfast, on a charge of-how shall I utter the dreadful word-on a charge of swindling. FEATH. Dear me! A little eccentricity of the count's to which the prejudices of society are rather opposed. MRS. DE B. He wasn't even a counthe was nothing better than an ex-waiter at a café. At all events he was tried, found guilty, and sent to the galleys for twenty years; but he broke his noble heart, and died before twelve months were over (sobbing), leaving me with a sweet little cherub FEATH. Oh, oh! a limited liability in long clothes MRS. DE B. My angel Adolphe! I returned with him to England without delay; and in order to avoid impertinent observations, I resumed my maiden name, put my sweet babe privately to nurse, and stifled the feelings of a mother. FEATH. (aside). The romantic Aurelia a mother! But what did De Boots say to this? MRS. DE B. Oh, he knows nothing about it. Men are such strange creatures, they object to these family incumbrances -and De Boots has no enlarged sympathies. Up to the present moment I have contrived to keep the secret from him; but now I'm in a dreadful dilemma, for the woman with whom I placed my darling Adolphe in the country is dead, and they're about sending the child home to me. FEATH. Hem! that's decidedly awk ward. MRS. DE B. Distressingly so-but I have confidence in your friendship, Felix |