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about leases, back rente. conveyances. and all the rest of it ; but I could not, and there I was.

1. * Don't you thout bo?" said unr aut.

"T 15 jolly up here, is n't it? Enough to makes * Don't I think, I bor your pardon," I said, 'man wish life was all sea-side and sunshine." * Don't I think what?"

I I lay on top of the Castle Cliff with a cigar in E Lady Nugent tapped me on the shoulder good-mouth, and my friend Charlie Ferrara tus per died humoredly, with a rignilicaut half-glance at Ce-or the turf beside me, holding his chin it his hard. cile.

and looking to say the truth, rather discontent * Moonstruck, Robert?" said she. * Well, come than otherwise. Whr he did so. I did r't know and see us to-nuorrow. We are at Londesborough Below is there was the sea, sleeping in a mnie Terrace. Providence Vula Hideous name, is n't haze, out of which the sails shone like fituts it? and not quite the most fashionable part, either. morable white dots in the distance. There was not But economy must be considered, you know.* Ce a cloud in the sky; and the sound of the with cile gave me an absent little bod, and two pale kid indeed it reached us at all. reached is, as Lads fingen, and they passed on. I did not offer to join Fent said, dimly." them.

O. those waves!- the dehrbt of the sun glancing Oddly enough, that last phrase of uur aunt's lin- zold upon them: the pleasure of the Falk w te gered with me, and kept repeating itself with a North CIA down the wooden steps and among the certain paduos. - FRODOWY anust kae considered, rou sand to the machines : — tbe forlorn STAD *** know." Yes, I did know it. They had rery little being, as it were, put off to sen, and left there to to live ups. The wonder was how they contrired white rolls of foam lashing themselves against .. to live at all, and keep up the appearance they us wheels of your machine till it trembles agais, a. After all, was she very much to blame for wishing to 'only the great waste of waters glittering before your secure a contra le estalliskunent for her daughter? open door; – then the lange that pots life into And then I wondered whether it suiglat be possible you. ald make you feel as if you had no body, to that, tor a certain sum per angun, Tady Nugent tako, – that is, until treakfast time! would let nie oft. And bere - the little rows of But I couldn't be poetical about all this to Chart twinkling gus jets in the brands' pavision having 'Ferrars up on the Castle Cliff, where we had met sprung up bong ago, and the chandelier glittering bribe berest chance and where be appeared to insile - there came a crash of brass instruments, me to be doing anything but enjoying hindi tullowed by the softist and sweetest of Gounod's Iould n't, for the life of me, tell wby." ** Arina."

* They say a man pitched himself over bere the Ah, well, did it matter much, after all, how my other dlar," said Charije, suddenly. life was settled? Was it worth while struggling - Did be?” said I - Poor begrar! In c. about it? All those dreams of mine were mytis, perhaps ? " -- R uling that come in the springtide of youth | Charlie took his chin out of his hands, and *** when the imagination overflow, something dreamed plied, gloomily. * There are other things that sa of in all men's lives, but never realized.

make a man desperate. But what do you b* Cerile Wius fond of me; I had no dislike to her. about debt, - a lucky chap like you?" I would be gear to her of course; we might get on Something in his tone made me raise myset om as well as other couples did. Down at Nugent one elbow to look at him, but he had turned bus* there would has for me the estate to me atuer, to say away. If I had known then what was the met nothing of huntin, shooting, and fishing. (), no with him, I think I should have put my arms 10' doubt we mighe di very well without the enchanted his neck and hugged him; but I didn't knom, light that came only in visions. If I could have had so I blundered. the light, a mub the better, but perhaps no one "Charlie, old boy, there's something wrong," * ever did have it in reality,

I. “I've more money than I know what to As I thought thus, something a little faint cry with; it would be a charity -" I thought it wils -- made me turn sharply to my He broke into a constrained sort of laugh. right. I maw at first only a perambulator, with a " Thanks, Bob," said he (I grieve to say th:** pale, childish fare looking anxiously over the side, old school-chums will call me Bob); * but it e and then I was aware of a dog, a little bigger than that. Sometimes I wish it was. However, r' a respectable rat, limping about amongst the legs mind. It's odd we did n't meet before, isn't that ihronged the promenade.

“Well, yes," said I “But, you see, the "The wheel has crone over it," said the voice be- are here, and my aunt likes attention, and I've longing to the childish face. " (), please, Robert !" with them a good deal. We steamed over tol

I don't know whether I was idiot enough to take the other day. By the by, you know them. this plaintivo " Robert " to myself, instead of apply- you?” ing it to the lad who propelled the perambulator; “A little," he replied. anyhow, I dived at once atter the little animal, “A good thought, by Jove," said I. IT picked it up and restored it. I was thanked ; not you to call to-day.” by the childish face, but by one bending down over “My train starts at 1.30," was the grim retu * it; a tice older, with more color in the cheeks, witb - Thanks, all the same. I came down for blue ray con, and masses of sunny hair drawn days on business ; can't spare any more time ! away tiom it. not into the padded abortion which I must n't stay dawdling here any longe? is no woneral, but into a coil of shining plaits, beauti- so good by, old fellow. Meet you in too ! ful to look upon.

time." I was chanhol, I say, by a face and voice such as I shook hands indifferently enough, als * I thought I had never looked upon or heard before ; was gone, I reproaehed Inyself for it. B.** and I raised my hat and drew back, my eyes met was preoccupied, and impatient of anyts ? Lady Nusants in her downward walk, and my disturbed me. The world bad changed " heart sunk

| since tbe evening I leaned over the sea

wondered what I had come to Scarborough for. | will-o'-the-wisps gone mad; and the few occupiers The train of thought that had been disturbed then of the seat under the colonnade became a confused by a stupid little toy terrier seemed very far back mass of dingy color. In another moment I was in the past now, very absurd and impossible, alto- shaking hands vigorously with the Rev. Richard gether not worth remembering.

Penryn, Vicar of Nugent, blessing my memory, I don't think my aunt and Cecile knew why I which never lost a face once seen, and explaining was so punctual at the evening promenade, nor to the perplexed clergyman my claims upon his recwhy, at a certain moment, my attention would / ollection. wander, in spite of myself, and my steps involun- “ To be sure,” he said at last ; " our new squire. tarily turn in one direction. It was no harm; I I'm stupid and near-sighted, and I did n't rememonly wanted to see her; so I said to myself. There ber you at all. And when are we to have the can be nothing wrong in looking at a beautiful pic- pleasure, — but I forgot. Mír. Nugent, this is my ture; and she could never be anything more to me, daughter, Constance, and this poor little weaksince was I not already appropriated ?

ling The sentence was very bitter to me now; I had “You are very rude, papa," broke in the childish lost all my passive submission to my fate. At voice I remembered so well. “I am not a weaktimes, indeed, the elements of strong rebellion roseling. I'm strong enough now, if Constance would up within me, and I said to myself that I would be let me walk, but she won't. And I know Mr. Nufree; but the next moment there would come the gent quite well; he picked up Topsy for me. My consciousness of Lady Nugent's voice in my ear and name is Letty, Mr. Nugent, and papa has no right a paw figuratively upon my shoulder. Meantime, to call me Gypsy, as I dare say you 'll hear him do." I only wanted to see her, to be from time to time a There was a laugh at this long speech. I don't little nearer to this beautiful, unpainted picture, very well know whether I joined or not. I don't which there was no harm in looking at, which I saw know indeed exactly what I did, or said, or thought, in my dreams and when I awoke from them, which or how the time went. I know that once Mr. PenI never utterly lost, even when Lady Nugent and ryn said something about the bay, that we turned my cousin were with me. Who was she? Where to look at it; and that far away, a black spot in the did she come from? Were her friends rich ? I ripple of moonlight, there was a fisherman's boat hardly know why, but I thought not; I rather pre- with a single light in it, which gleamed red against ferred that they should not be. And yet, after all, the silver. We could even see the fisherman in his what could it matter to me?

boat, motionless; and it seemed to me as if in some This was how I came back with a sigh to the way this also had got into my picture, and I could actual position of affairs, — to find myself turning never forget it. unwillingly from the open promenade into the Spa “It is so quiet here,” said the vicar's daughter, in Concert Room, with my cousin Cecile and Lady answer to my stupid remark that I had hardly exNugent. I dare say the concert was very fine that pected to see them out. night: Cecile said it was. I only knew that I had “ Then you don't care for a gay promenade ?” not the least idea what it was all about, and that said I. when everybody was waiting in intense expectation “Indeed but I do,” she replied. “I like the mufor the appearance of the great star of the evening, sic and the lights, and to look at all the people —” it suddenly struck me, with a sharp pang, “ Suppose « And the gossamer dresses," put in the vicar. they are gone away altogether!”

“'T is a fine place for, that sort of thing, which we I looked at Lady Nugent; she was calm and pale, don't get much of down at Nugent. We are a litwaiting; so was Cecile, so was everybody, — wait-tle out of the world down there, eh, Constance ?” ing as though life depended upon a few shakes and Out of the world! Somehow there came upon trills, and runs half a note higher than any reason- me a rustling of soft wind amongst the Nugent able voice could go. How hot I was ! - how sud- beeches; the sun shining over a green lawn ; lights denly impressed with the nothingness and inconse- and shadows over distant woods; a river, and blue quence of the whole affair! My picture! my pre- bills beyond. Here was a setting for my picture. cious, unpainted portrait ! if that slipped away from “I think I should like to be out of the world,” I me, I saw, as I had never seen before, how terrible said. “At least I mean to go down to Nugent as a blank it would leave behind.

soon as, – that is, you are not going home yet, Mr. "'T is close bere," I said to Cecile, “ awfully Penryn ?close. I wonder how you bear it."

“ Not to Nugent,” said the vicar, “but to the " Is it ? ” she said. "Perhaps so; but hush, Rob- North Cliff. Terribly unfashionable, I suppose, but ert, she is coming on.”

it is better for the gypsy here; and besides 't is less "Excuse me for five minutes," I whispered; “my expensive. There is a concert in there, I believe," head aches."

| he added, stopping suddenly. “Some one told us Cecile just looked at me, raised her eyebrows in so." wonder at my want of taste, but did not speak, and The words roused me into a guilty consciousness the next moment I was out on the almost deserted that my five minutes had grown into half an hour, promenade, with the cool salt breeze on my fore- | if not more. head, the stars beginning to come out overhead, and “I am obliged to go," I said, hurriedly. “But I the moon struggling from behind a cloud to throw know no one in Scarborough ; that is, scarcely any lown a long silver line across the water to its edge; one. It would be a charity if - May I call upon und there, near the little pavilion, which had no you to-morrow?" vand in it to-night, I saw the perambulator, the “ And welcome,” replied the vicar, calmly, “ if ane lad propelling it, my picture, and close beside you will take the trouble. Here is the address. er tall, black-coated, spectacled, - I drew a long Good night.” reath.

“ What have you been doing?” asked Lady NaThe stars seemed to have come down, and got into gent, as I took my place. "You look as if you had y eyes ; the lamps danced into each other, like I seen a ghost.”

.

They were both looking at me curiously, -- Lady I thing almost painful in it, while the poor little terNugent slightly unquiet and searching; and a spirit rier stared wistfully out of his crimson wrapper, and of malien (ontoe upon me,

uttered a faint yelp of remonstrance. # I have jurat met with the Vicar of Nugent and “ You are choking him, Gyp,” said Constance. la Inghters," I retorted, bravely. “We walked “That shows how much you know about it," was about ouder the lamps, and I suppose I 'm dazzled the retort. “But, Mr. Nugent, do you mean it rea bit; that's all."

ally ?

i Yes, really," I replied.

" Then I'll tell you what,” said Letty; "you are I w 14 holding milk for Constance Penryn to wind; the very nicest man I ever knew. Shall we get as Glypony was cremping up Topsy in a red shawl, much far as the old Priory, do you think, and Norven to his discomfort, and Mr. Penryn wrote or tried to | Wood ? " writent A side-tablo.

“I don't see why not," I replied. "I don't believe it rir," said Letty. “I don't be- “And Constance there never says a word," conlieve (be quiet, Top !) that you ever wound silk be-tinued Letty. “But perhaps you don't mean to tore in your life ; and I dare say it won't be fit to take her?” une. But you are so conceited. You know you Involuntarily I looked at the face opposite me: thought I meant you when I called Robert to pick and somehow the silk got tangled. I had to give it up Topey. You think everybody must be thinking up from my clumsy fingers, to say a few stapad

words of apology, and then to find by my wateh I laughed, and the vicar just murmured a word that it was time to go. or two of remonstrance; but he was busy.

" And I have n't heard half about the bronte. You see it had come to this with me. Lady Nu-Gypsy, nor about the yellow drawing-room at the gent never knew where my mornings were spent. Hall that you are to help me to alter," said L She was suspicious. I knew. She would have lever mind; I shall see you to-night." watched me it' she could, but that was not possible: “That's no use, even if we go," retortal LAST, and in this case I was a match for her cross-ques promptly: *which, perhars, we shall rot de Ton !

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was changed. It was impatient and pettish. In you, Robert. We have been good friends always, spite of my preoccupation I had noticed this, and have n't we?” wondered. What if Cecile did care for me after “ To be sure we have,” said I. all in real earnest!

"I want to be good friends still,” said Cecile. “I It was useless to say to myself, “I can't help it; it want you to promise that you will think none the is not my fault”; because to a certain extent it was worse of me for what I am going to say." my fault. Lady Nugent had paraded us before the “I think," I said, gravely, “ that you can have world as lovers, and I had idly accepted the posi- nothing to tell which would lessen my respect for tion. I was to blame.

As I rang the bell at Providence Villa, I felt in “ Thanks,” said Cecile. “It is about myself. myself that I was wretched; and I felt also that, We are neither of us blind, Robert, though we have from a woman like my aunt, no quarter was to be been acting as if we thought each other so. You expected. I felt this still more strongly when I know as well as I do what has been, and is, in went into the drawing-room and saw her sitting in my mother's mind respecting us. Must I speak a chair at the window, with her work fallen idly plainer ?upon her lap.

"No," said I. Lady Nugent was too busy a woman to like idle-! « Well then, Robert,” she continued, “I don't ness; something her fingers must do to keep up a think you have dealt quite fairly by me." sort of accompaniment to the thoughts which she I felt as if a big hand was rising up behind the was forever turning over in her brain. It was airy castle I had been building only an hour ago, ominous, therefore, to see her this evening with but I did not answer. those same rapid fingers tightly interlaced, while “You know you never cared for me," she said ; the lips that opened to speak to me seemed thinner“ at least in that sort of way. If you will not speak, and sterner than ever.

Robert, I must.” “ You are come to walk with us, Robert, I sup- The hand got nearer and bigger. pose?” said she. “It is early yet; but, perhaps, “But you have behaved as if you cared," she Cecile will not go; and if so, I shall not leave her.” continued. “You have led mamma on to believe “ Not go?" I stammered. “ Why?”

that things were turning as she wished them to turn. “ She has a headache,” replied my aunt, briefly. | By fits and starts, in a languid sort of way, you

“I am sorry,” said I. " Cis is not given to head- have tried to make me care for you, Robert; you aches."

cannot deny it." “ No, she is not; but Cecile has not been well! A sparkle of excitement had risen to her eye, and lately; something is wrong. I don't know whether the traces of tears were all gone. you know what it is," said my aunt, severely ; " but! “ Well, Cis ” I do not. You might have noticed her paleness ; l “Don't say anything yet," she interrupted. “I but I dare say you have n't. I suppose a mother's repeat, you have not dealt fairly by me. A girl eye is the keenest, although one would have cannot refuse or accept a man until he has offered thought "

himself, can she? In plain words, you would She broke off abruptly, still looking at me with a neither retreat nor come forward, and what was I sort of contemptuous questioning, and I was obliged to do? If ever I seemed to draw you on " to confess that I had thought Cecile was looking " Which you did,” said I. ill.

6 Which perhaps I did,” said Cecile. “I cannot "Exactly, Robert ; she does look ill,” said my tell. If I did, it was in order that you might ask aunt. “ She frightened me last night, and I do not for your answer, and get it, Robert. You have easily take fright. If you two have had any foolish | made me very unhappy, Robert.” quarrel, -- but there, I must leave you to settle that I felt my heart leap up into my throat, and my for yourselves; only, if you can persuade Cecile to brain grow hot. What was coming next? go out to-night, instead of moping at home, I think | “Now, for the truth," said Cecile. it would be better for her. It is useless for me to “Stop one moment, Cecile,” said I. « Let me speak, I know ; but she will listen to you."

tell you —This was pleasant. I heard the retreating foot- “I will let you tell me nothing yet," she interteps, and could have stamped my own foot at them rupted. “ Robert, I am engaged to Charlie Fern despair. I had a horrible conviction that a crisis rars. Do you think that while you are acting as aust come, — nay, had come already; and how was you do now, mamma will listen to one word about

to meet it? If I could have gone up to Cecile, him.” nd spoken to her calmly; if I could have said, In the new light that dawned upon me, I think I

Let all this farce be ended ; I do not love you; I was nearer falling in love with Cecile than ever I ever did love you, except as a brother might love had been in my life.

s sister !” But then I could not do this. If she “Charlie Ferrars!” I cried ; " and he came down red for me, it would be brutal to do so.

here to plead his cause with my aunt; and she told I beard Cecile come in and close the door, and I him she had other views for you, eh? Would n't nfess that my heart beat uncomfortably.

let him see you, perhaps ; so that was why he had 6 Robert," said she.

an idea of throwing himself over the Castle Cliff. I turned round with as good an affectation of care-l I see it all. O, Cis!” ness as I could command, but it broke down into “ You are not vexed with me?” said Cecile. impulsive exclamation when I saw her.

• Vexed !" said I. “If you could only know Why, Cis,” said I, “ you have been crying !” what it is to me! So I am to draw back for CharShe tried a retort, but it was rather a failure. lie, and all the onus is to fall upon me? I am to . You have been crying," I repeated, “and I pretend that I won't have you?” 't believe you are well. We are cousins, you “ Robert!” she exclaimed. W, Cis. Is there anything I can help you in?” “Do you really love him, Cis?” said I. " He is Yes, there is,” she replied : “I want to speak to the best fellow in the world."

I began searching about for my hat, which was in | Penryns, — Cecile lingered a little behind the my left hand all the time.

others, and came up close to me. *What are you doing, Robert ? ” she asked. “Il “ Good by, and God bless you, Robert,” said she. thought you would help me."

1“ If I said anything hard to you this evening, forget “ So I mean to, — so I will," I replied. “Go to it. I hope you 'll be as happy as I am." the promenade, Cis; you must. Tell my aunt I am to meet you. I will do that anyhow ; only don't keep me now."

NAMES OF NOVELS. In less than half an hour I was out on the bal- THERE is an art, known under various names, of cony of Mr. Penryn's lodging, and Constance was which the principles are always identical. Certain with me, - very close to me; I might even confess persons profess to describe a man's character from that my arm was round her. And casual passers-by the shape of his skull or of his features; others of could look up if they chose ; they could see nothing less scientific pretension, but who must evidently for the heavy curtain over the window behind us. possess a still keener power of insight, pronounce Even if they could have seen, I don't think, in my with equal confidence from the shape of his nose or then state of mind, that I should have cared ; and hand, or even from the peculiarities of his writing. Constance was saying, “ But you never mean that? | The untutored savage of fiction sees a few scratches You could not have had the heart to stay away from upon the sand and immediately tells you that six Nugent.”

days ago these marks were made by a party consist"But I should, though," said I. “ If you had ing of two white men, the wife of one, the sister of said anything else, I would never have gone near another, a nigger, a dog, and a babe in arms, that the place. Are you sure that I am quite awake, - | they were short of provisions, but had a few back that it is a real you' I have here, or only a copies of the Times newspaper. The principle dream?"

which underlies these singular manifestations of • “Do I look like a dream ? ” she asked.

divining power are apparently identical. It is that “Yes, you do, very," I replied. “I can hardly in everything that belongs to any man there remains believe you are not one. Why do you move away? a certain essence peculiar to himself. A dog can I don't want to go. I am content. The world has infer a stranger's character from the smell of his been very good to me to-night.”

clothes; and the marvellously endowed philosophers “But, Robert, you said "

we have mentioned possess an analogous faculty ; “Ah, poor Cecile!” said I. “And you won't from some apparently unimportant scrap or vestige mind helping her, for my sake? Come, then." of a human being they construct his whole person

| ality as securely as Professor Owen inferred the Once more under the lamps on the promenade. proverbial dinornis. There is another branch of The band was playing; the seats under the colon- this art to which less reference has been made, alnade were full, and, passing along by the sea-wall, I though it is evident that some persons possess it, saw the fisherman's boat in the ripple of the moon- the art, we mean, of discerning the nature of a book light, just as though he had never stirred from his from a bare inspection of its title. It is known, but, post, but stayed there to see the end. And there, as we have remarked, it is not often publicly proamongst the upward stream of people came my aunt claimed, that some reviewers can form a trustworthy and Cecile, Lady Nugent, pale, stern, displeased ; judgment of a book even when their acquaintance Cecile with her head bent down. My heart gave is strictly limited to this portion of its contents. me one great throb of anticipation; then I drew Some doubt may be thrown by the envious on their the little hand within my arm tighter, and went complete infallibility; but the doubt seems needless forward boldly. I saw my aunt's eye fall up- and invidious when we remember that clergymen of on me, - upon us, rather. I saw the little start the Church of England, and even bishops, have conwhich she could not repress, the sudden, haughty demned such heretics as Dr. Colenso on no greater questioning, and drawing herself up. Then I authority. Doubtless they smell the sulphur; there spoke.

is a sort of fagoty perfume which excludes the pos" Aunt,” said I, “ let me introduce Miss Penryn, sibility of mistake. In short, books, as has been said, the daughter of our vicar at Nugent. Constance, have a kind of physiognomy of their own, which of this is Lady Nugent, my aunt."

course implies the possible existence of physiognoThe color that was so seldom there, flashed red over mists also. In the haunters of old book-stalls, and Lady Nugent's cheeks ; one single withering look the critical genus at large, the corresponding sense fell upon me, and then all sign of emotion was gone, is developed to a pitch of refinement which would and she was making her little cold, matter-of-fact seem incredible to the vulgar herd, were not its posspeech to my future wife, - accepting the position. sibility and its reality in certain cases attested by the She was a clever woman. But, better than this, I authentic instance of the heretic-hunters. We might had caught a glance from Cecile, strangely bright as well doubt the capacity of dogs to discover trufI had seen the hand-clasp with which she greeted fles, or of the Paris correspondent of the Daily Constance, and vague pictures of future meetings Telegraph to know what is going on in the bosom at Nugent for us all began to flit before me. I of the Emperor. might have tried to catch what the two girls were Now this singular art is admirably exemplified in talking about; but I was busy giving my aunt a the case of novels. The problem, it is true, is for summary of Charlie Ferrars's prospects, which grew the most part a very simple one. Novel writing has very fair under my handling, and claiming my right, | been brought down so much to a system, all possible as Cecile's nearest male relative, of giving to her a varieties have been so amply catalogued and demarriage portion.

scribed, that a very trifling hint is sufficient to show Perhaps Cecile heard Charlie's name, and was the class to which a given book belongs. There are, wicked enough to listen. I don't know. At any as it were, a number of accepted patterns, which are rate, when I bade them good night, and good by, filled up with slight differences in the details. A - for of course I was going to Nugent with the good literary detective requires nothing but the

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