spirits had risen to fever heat, and she
rattled on volubly, speculating as to who
there would be at  Lowater; whether Mrs.
Sheardown would contrive to give them a
dance in the evening; what she should
wear (exhaustless theme), and so forth.

At length the stream of words slackened,
and then ceased. The rival merits of scarlet
and amber ribbons demanded an absorbed
and silent consideration.

Don't you think, Uncle Charles," said
Maud, "that Mrs. Sheardown is the
sweetest woman you ever saw?"

"She is charming, in truth; charming
and excellent; and, moreover, possesses a
mind of a very superior calibre."

"Bravo, Uncle Charles! And then she
is—  in my eyes, at least—so pretty. That
quality must not be omitted in the
catalogue of her perfections."

"I am not quite sure on the point,
Maudie. Is she very pretty? I don't
think that any man would ever have
fallen in love with Mrs. Sheardown for
her beauty."

"Perhaps not. And if so, all the better.
Sure I am that any who once loved her
would never cease to think her beautiful."

Veronica looked up. " All true," she
said. " I agree with your eulogium. And
observe that it is pure magnanimity which
prompts me to do so. For, sweet Mistress
Nelly does not like me one bit."

"O Veronica!"

"O Maud! It is so. I have a sixth
sense, which never deceives me in these
matters. I know that to Mrs. Sheardown
I am not simpatica."

"Simpatica! Nonsense. Whenever you
use an Italian word where an English one
would serve, I know that you are saying
something that won't bear daylight. Why
should not Mrs. Sheardown like you?"

Veronica clasped her hands behind her
head, and rested both head and arms on
Maud's knee. Then, with her eyes cast
contemplatively upward, "Because I am
not good." said she.

The vicar's brows contracted into an
uneasy pucker as he looked down on his
daughter's beautiful face.

"Veronica," he said, almost sternly, "I
wish you would not say such things."

"Very well. papa; I won't."

"Still more. I wish that you would not
think such thoughts."

"Ah, quest o poi———"

"If you please, sir," said Catherine, the
maid, putting her rosy face into the room,
"here is Mr. Plew."

Mr. Plew was hospitably invited to enter.
The surgeon of Shipley was a small man,
with a fringe of straight light hair round
a bald crown. His eyes were of a weak
blue tint, his skin usually pale yellow. On
the present occasion, however, it burnt with
a fiery red, in consequence of the change
from the piercing outer air to the temperature
of the vicar's well-warmed and well-
lighted parlour. His eyes watered, and his
frost-inflamed nose glowed like a hot coal,
above the white woollen comforter that
enveloped his throat.

"I fear I am intruding at an unseasonable
hour," said Mr. Plew, speaking with a
strong provincial accent and a gentle,
deprecating manner.

"By no means. Pray come in. It is
our idle hour, you know. Veronica, ring
for a clean cup, and give Mr. Plew some
tea," said the vicar.

"Not any, thank you. Pray don't move,
Miss Levincourt. I have just left our
patient's room. I could not resist coming
to congratulate you on the favourable
verdict that Dr. Gunnery pronounced this
morning. Paul told me. I was unable
to be here earlier in the day. But from
my own observation of Sir John's condition
this evening, I am quite able to endorse
what Dr. Gunnery said. Danger is over
for the present."

Mr. Plew spoke in a rather hesitating,
shy way. And, although he seemingly
tried to control his wandering glances, he
could not help turning his eyes at every
minute towards the hearth, where Miss
Levincourt still remained in her nonchalant
attitude on the rug.

"Veronica, get up," whispered Maud.

"Why? I am very comfortable. Mr.
Plew is an old friend. We don't treat him
with ceremony; do we, Mr. Plew?" said
Veronica aloud.

"O dear, Miss Levincourt, I trust not.
I beg—that is—I hope you would not
think of disturbing yourself on my account."

"Then you must seek another cushion,"
said Maud, bluntly. " I am weary of your
weight. You are as well able to support
yourself, as I am to support you."

With that, Miss Desmond rose, crossed
the room, and took a chair beside the vicar.
Mr. Plew's face uttered a mute and
disapproving commentary on the action.

Veronica caught his look, and instantly
answered it by speech.

"Is Miss Desmond bound to give way to
my whims, pray? I have more selfishness
in my little finger than she has in her