"No doubt," said he, gravely; " and my
Iife in this place has been only a day or so
long. But as a mere fact of general
experience your illustration does not hold.
In plays, you know, the wicked lord often
takes a horrid and unmeaning dislike to his
virtuous tenant in a red waistcoat."

All this while two sullen eyes had been
bent on them from the opposite side of the
room, and he thus heard a voice beside him,
"Red waistcoats and virtuous tenants! Do
you hear Conway? Let me warn you," he
added to her, "he has got all the
refinements and metaphysics. I know him;
and with these little smart things he makes
himself interesting. I know you of old,
my dear friend."

"No you do not," said the other, coolly.
"That is much too highly coloured an
account of our acquaintance. Pardon me if
I am wrong, but you know very little about
me, Dudley. Now, Miss Panton, come
into this place. I am sure you must be
tired, and perhaps hungry."

There was a vast clatter of plates, knives
and forks, and champagne explosion. The
natives of the district were not generally
accnsi med to such rich and gratuitous
entertainments. They flung themselves on
the banquet with something like ravenousness.
It was hard to hear a neighbour's
voice through it all.

CHAPTER VI.

"LOVE IN HER EYES SITS PLAYING."

THE déjeuner was nearly over, and the
toasts were being given; the splendid and
courteous commodore, who had done so
much so splendidly for his club; our
splendid queen; splendid noble prince;
in- distinguished and splendid guests, even
our rival Burgee commodore, who, if not
splendid, yet viewed athwart the sparkling
bubbles of morning champagne, was decent
and worthy, and meant well. The Burgee
responded with almost grovelling gratitude,
and he should never, till laid in the cold
earth, "forget their kindness of that day."
Thenraging of cannon outside; rather
flushed faces stream out to see the yachts
dropping in.

Oh, of course the shabby, greedy Morna,
monster of snowy white, comes rolling in
first, triumphant and contemptuous, the rest
a quarter, half an hour, hours behind!
Well into the harbour sails the vast yacht,
stooping over, her dress ballooning out,
the water falling away from before her in
ridges of snowy foam. She comes on and
on, growing larger every second, until it is
thought she will be in on the shore, when
bang goes the cannon from the flagship.
She has won, and she whisks round
contemptuously. The very magnificence of
the demeanour of the unpopular craft
extorts a cheer.

After that, the evening closes in slowly,
dropping its mantle gently over all, making
the white grey and the sea leaden,
and then dark. Lights begin to sparkle;
the distant music sounds like a faint hum.
The two club-houses light up like blazing
lanterns, and the populace stand in crowds,
gazing at the fine company within, who
are having their dance. Then, darkness
being well set in, it was time to expect
the fireworks. The whole surface of the
harbour was covered with crawling boats,
and resounded with the chatter and laughter
of exuberant voices. Lights flitted from
end to end of every yacht; and now and
again a "blue light" flashed, showing rows of
faces illuminated in that strangely pale light.

Prom the steps of the club-house was
putting off the Almandine's barge, and
Mr. Conway had helped down Miss Jessica
into the after portion. The gossips of the
little place had noted how " that
cunning girl was laying herself out for that
good catch," as they called Mr. Conway.
By that light not much could be seen of
the beauties, comforts, and luxuries of the
Almandine. To the terrestrial visitor
nothing seems so complete and tempting
as a well-appointed yacht; and the fascination
is very much that of a baby house,
with its complete kitchens, bedrooms, &c.,
for a little girl. Harbour visitants do not
guess how odious it would seem on, say, the
second day after going to sea, when a gale
is "on" and the waves high. Doctor
Bailey was critical, and spoke as if in
mariner's orders all his life. " Exceedingly
nice and well appointed, nothing could be
in better taste. You are a true Formanton,
my dear Mr. Conway."

As the fireworks now began to whiz and
roar, the rockets bent, as it were, on blasting
the very welkin, while the distant
Catherine wheels whirled and blazed, and
showered cascades of sparks, lighting up
thousands of spectral figures lining the pier,
Mr. Conway was talking with interest to
Miss Jessica. The two were leaning over
the rail, and he told her a great deal of his
life and story. Such pastime there are
plenty of selfish people to delight in, who
would be autobiographical, " end on," for
days. In fact, our human nature prefers
talking of itself to talking of any one else.