for goods, on the reputation of his father's wealth, but money-dealers were very sharp-eyed people, and he found it much less easy to get his promissory-notes cashed. It was a matter of etiquette to pay at once "debts of honour," and his impetuous disposition led him to take bets so freely that his ready money was generally drained away very soon after his return. Not long before, he had written to his father for a fresh supply, but, to his great surprise, the letter had only produced an angry and even indignant reproof. "Vyvyan, (his father had written-not even dear Vyvyan') I allow you £500 a year, a sum totally out of proportion with your wants, and yet you are so shamefully extravagant, as to write without a blush to ask me for more. presume to do it again on pain of my heavy displeasure." This letter had so amazed him that he did not even answer it, nor, in spite of his mother's earnest, urgent, and almost heart-rending entreaties, post by post, would he even condescend to write home for many weeks. It was the natural result of the way in which at home they had pampered his vanity, and never checked his faults.

Don't

But, for these reasons, it was wholly out of Bruce's power to pay Brogten the bet, if he failed in trying to shake the temperance of De Vayne. He saw at once that he had mistaken his subject; he took De Vayne for a man whose goodness and humility would make him pliant to all designs.

A dark thought entered Bruce's mind.

He went alone into a druggist's shop, and said, with

a languid air, "I have been suffering very much from sleeplessness lately, Mr. Brent; I want you to give me a little laudanum."

it."

"Very well, sir. You must be careful how you use

"Oh, of course.

drowsy, now?"

How many drops would make one

"Four or five, sir, I should think."

"Well, you must give me one of those little bottles full. I want to have some by me, to save trouble."

The chemist filled the bottle, and then said, "I'm afraid I'm out of my poison labels, sir. I'll just write a little ticket and tie it on."

"All right;" and putting it in his pocket, Bruce strolled away.

But how to see De Vayne again? He thought over their common acquaintances, and at last fixed on Kennedy as the likeliest man on whom he could depend to secure another meeting. Yet he hardly liked to suggest that Kennedy should give a wine party, and ask De Vayne and himself; so that he was rather puzzled.

"I say, Brogten, how is it that we are always asking Kennedy to our rooms, and he so very seldom asks us?"

"I suppose because he isn't over-partial to our company."

"Why not?" said Bruce, who considered himself very fascinating, and quite a person whose society was to be courted; "and if so, why does he come to our rooms?”

Brogten might, perhaps, have thrown light on the subject had he chosen.

"Well," he said, "I'll give him a hint.”

"Do; and get him to ask De Vayne."

Brogten did so; Kennedy assented to asking Bruce, though he listened to Brogten's hints (which he instantly understood) with a sullenness which but a short time before had no existence, not even a prototype, in his bright and genial character. But when it came to asking De Vayne, he simply replied to Brogten's suggestion flatly.

"I will not."

"Won't you? but why?”

66

"Why? because I suspect you and that fellow Bruce of wishing to treat him as you treated Hazlet.” "I've no designs against him whatever." “Well, I won't ask him,-that's flat."

"Whew-ew-ew-ew-ew!" Brogten began to whistle, and Kennedy relieved his feelings by digging the poker into the fire. And then there was a pause.

"I want you to ask De Vayne."

"And I tell you I won't ask him.”

"Whew-w-w-w!"

Another long whistle, during

which Kennedy mashed and battered the black lumps that smouldered in the grate.

"Whew-ew-ew-ew! Oh very well." Brogten left the room. At hall that day, Brogten took care to sit near Kennedy again, and the old scene was nearly re-enacted. He turned the conversation to the Christmas examination. I suppose you'll be very high again, Kennedy.”

"No," said he, curtly. "I've not read, and you

know that as well as I do."

"O, but you hadn't read much last time, and you may do some particular paper very well, you know. I wish there was an Eschylus paper; you might be first, you know, again."

Kennedy flung down his knife and fork with a curse, and left the hall. Men began to see clearly that there must have been some mystery attached to the Eschylus paper, known to Brogten and Kennedy, and very discomforting to the latter. But as Kennedy was concerned, they did not suspect the truth.

Brogten went straight from hall to Kennedy's rooms. He found the door sported, but knew as well as possible that Kennedy was in. He hammered and thumped at the door a long time with sundry imprecations, but Kennedy, moodily resolute, heard all the noise inside, and would not stir. Then Brogten took out a card and wrote on the back, "I think you'll ask De Vayne," and dropped it into the letter-box.

That evening he found in his own letter-box a slip

of paper.

morrow.

"De Vayne is coming to wine with me toCome, and the foul fiend take you. I have filled my decanters half-full of water, and won't bring out more than one bottle. E. K."

Brogten read the note and chuckled,-partly with the thought of Kennedy, partly of Bruce, partly of De Vayne. Yet the chuckle ended in a very heavy sigh.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.

KENNEDY'S WINE-PARTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

"Et je n'ai moi

Par la sang Dieu!

Ni foi, ni loi,

Ni jeu, ni feu,

Ni roi, ni Dieu."

VICTOR HUGO, Notre Dame de Paris.

"Nay, that's certain; but yet the pity of it,

Iago!—O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!"

OTHELLO, iv. 1.

"ARE you going to Kennedy's, Julian?" asked De

Vayne.

"No."

"I wish he'd asked you."

Julian a little wondered why he had not, but remembered, with a sigh, that there was something, he knew not what, between him and Kennedy. Yet Kennedy was engaged to Violet! The thought carried him back to the beautiful memories of Grindelwald and Mürrem, perhaps of Eva Kennedy: I will not say.