chignon. Ho became a prey to a species
of fascination that obliged him to watch
some delicate artificial flowers which
crowned the lady's head-gear, and which
nodded, shook, and trembled, without
intermission, in dumb accompaniment to their
wearer's vivacious flow of talk.

The dinner passed pleasantly under the
genial influence of the host and hostess.
When Dr. Begbie rose, and, in an effective
speech, rolled out in his richest tones,
proposed the health of his dear friends,
Captain and Mrs. Sheardown, and wished them
many happy returns of that auspicious day,
the general enthusiasm was quite ardent.
Even Lady Alicia desired the servant to
fill her glass a bumper, and grasped her
host's hand with her bony fingers as she
tossed off the champagne.

Mrs. Begbie shed tears. But that may
been from habit: for Mrs. Begbie
always made a point of crying at her
husband's sermons. And perhaps his manly
voice, alone, had power so to affect her.
As compensation, however, when Captain
Sheardown returned thanks Mrs. Begbie
was perfectly dry-eyed.

When the ladies left the table—by which
time Mr. Snowe was openly and
undisguisedly contemplating Miss Boyce's
luxuriant locks with a fixed and stony glare
—and returned to the drawing-room, they
resumed a theme which had been discussed
at the dinner-table, and on which Lady
Alicia and Betsy Boyce were the chief
talkers.

"Gale? Gale?" said Miss Boyce,
meditatively. "No such name amongst the
people I know. Sir John Gale! Never
heard of him."

"How very strange!" murmured Mrs.
Begbie.

"But there must be some people, I
suppose, of whom Miss Boyce never heard?"
said Lady Alicia. She spoke with a strong
Scotch accent, rolling her r's very much, and
pronounced "never heard" "neverr harrd."

"Millions!" exclaimed Miss Boyce,
absolutely squeaking in her desire to be
emphatic. "Oh, millions! Your ladyship's
married name, for instance, was quite
unfamiliar to me, although I remember very
well—that is, I have often heard mamma
speak of your father, Lord Strathgorm."

Lady Alicia smiled grimly.

"Well," said she, "my dear Miss Boyce,
ye might very well remember poor papa
yourself, for he only died in the spring of
‘ ’thirty.' "

"Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Begbie,
clasping her hands. "Suppose Sir John
Gale should turn out to be an impostor!
A highwayman, or something. No: I
don't mean a highwayman; I believe there
are no highwaymen now, but I mean a
swindler, or something; don't you know?
Goodness!"

"Nonsense, Emmy!" said Miss Begbie's
mamma. Veronica's face looked unutterable
scorn, but she said nothing. The
hostess asked Miss Begbie to play for them,
and that young lady complied, not unwillingly.
She drew very good music out of
the grand piano.  Her mother was
complacent, Lady Alicia listened with a softened
face. Betsy Boyce's ringlets quivered again
as she nodded her head in time to a waltz
of Chopin. Upon this peaceful scene, the
gentlemen entered in a body. Captain
Sheardown took a seat beside Miss Boyce,
and made her a few gallant speeches.

"Go along, you false creature!" cried
Miss Betsy, smiling and tossing her head.
"Men were deceivers ever. One foot on
sea, and one on shore. Exactly! And
you sailor animals are the most faithless of
all. But I always loved the blue jackets
from a girl, from a mere child! I recollect
a most charming creature with whom I
once fell desperately in love. He was an
Admiral of the Red, and had only one leg,
and a frightful scar on his face where a
cutlass had gashed one of his eyebrows in
two. He was seventy-four, and I adored
him. It was in Ireland, at Delaney Park,
in the year after—in short, I was a mere
baby, not fifteen!"

"At Delaney Park? Really! That was
your grandpapa's place, Maud, was it not?"
asked Mrs. Sheardown.

"Possible! Are you of the Delaneys
of Delaney, Miss Desmond? Ah, I
remember the youngest girl married Sidney
Desmond. To be sure! The eldest, Hilda,
made a great marriage at the end of her
first season. Poor girl! H'm, h'm, h'm!
What is she doing, poor Lady Tallis? And:
where is she? No one hears or sees
anything of her now."

"We do not hear very often from my
Aunt Hilda," said Maud, gravely. "Do
you want me to accompany that song of
Schumann's for you, Mr. Snowe?"

Maud walked away to the piano, and
Betsy Boyce poured into the greedy ears of
Mrs. Begbie and the old banker, a recital
of Lady Tallis's troubles.

"It was considered a great match, the
match of the year (excepting, of course,
the young Earl of Miniver, who was, you