could claim superiority over him. I am aware
this is not your opinion, Milly; indeed, poor
Joseph has not many allies in this house, for
even Aunt Grainger was one of the fascinated
by our captivating guest."

"Well, but you know, dearest Florry, what a
magic there is in the name Calvert to my aunt."

"Yes, I know and deplore it. I believe, too,
from chance expressions she has let drop, that
her relations with those very people suggest
anything rather than proud or pleasant memories;
but she is determined to think of them as
friends, and is quite vain at having the permission
to do so."

"Even Harry used to smile at her reverence
for 'dear old Rocksley.'"

"The worse taste in him," said Florence,
haughtily.

"How bitter you are to the poor fellow,"
said the other, plaintively.

"I am not bitter to him. I think him a very
accomplished, clever, amusing person, good–
looking, manly, and so forth; and probably, if he
hadn't persecuted me with attentions that I did
not like or encourage, I might have felt very
cordially towards him."

"Could he help being in love with you,
Florry?"

"In love!" repeated she, in a voice of mockery
and scorn.

"Ay, Florry, I never saw a man more
thoroughly, devotedly in love. I could tell, as I
entered the breakfast–room, whether you had
spoken to him in coldness or the reverse. His
voice, as he read aloud, would betray whether
you were listening with pleasure or indifference.
You had not a mood of gay or grave that was
not reflected in his face; and one day I remember,
when I remarked on the capricious changes
of his spirits, he said, 'Don't blame me; I
am what she makes me: the happiest or the
most, miserable fellow breathing.' 'Well,'
replied I, 'I fancied from your good spirits it
was some pleasant tidings the post had brought
you.' 'No' said he, 'it was this;' and he
drew a violet from his pocket, and showed it to
me. I suppose you had given it to him."

"I dropped it, and he wouldn't give it back.
I remember the day." And, as she spoke, she
turned her head aside, but her sister saw that
her cheek was crimson. Then suddenly she
said, "How was it that you had such confidences
together? I'm sure that, knowing my
engagement, you must have seen how improper
it was to listen to such nonsense on his part."

"I couldn't help it, Florry; the poor fellow
would come to me with his heart, almost breaking.
I declare, there were times when his
despair actually terrified me; and having heard
from Aunt Grainger what dreadful passions
these Calverts give way to—how reckless of
consequences——"

"There, there, dear, spare me that physiology
of the race of Calverts, of which I have
gone through, I hope, every imaginable feature.
To poor Aunt Grainger's eyes the dragon of
the Drachenfels is a mild domestic creature in
comparison with one of them." There was a
jarring vibration in her sister's tone, that told
it were safer not to prolong the discussion, and
little more was said as they walked towards the
house. At last Florence stopped short, and,
pointing to the window of the room lately
occupied by Calvert, said, "Joseph will dislike all
those climbing creepers there, Milly; he hates
that sort of thing. Let them be cut away."

"If you wish it, dearest; but is it not a pity?
Only think of all the time and pains it cost to
train that jessamine——"

"Oh, if they have such tender memories for
you, let them remain by all means; but I think
it will be quite as well not to tell Joseph the
reasons for which they were spared."

Though the speech was uttered in irritation,
Emily affected to hear it without emotion, and
said, "It was Harry's own desire that we
should not speak of him to Joseph, and I mean
to obey it."

CHAPTER XVI. A LOVERS' QUARREL.

IN course of time Loyd arrived at the villa.
He came tired and worn out by a fatiguing
journey. There had been floods, broken bridges,
and bad roads in Savoy, and the St. Gothard was
almost impassable from a heavy snow–storm.
The difficulties of the road had lost him a day,
one of the very few he was to have with them,
and he came, wearied and somewhat irritated, to
his journey's end.

Lovers ought, perhaps, to be more thoughtful
about "effect" than they are in real life. They
might take a lesson in this respect, with good
profit from the drama, where they enter with all
the aids that situation and costume can give
them. At all events, Calvert would scarcely
have presented himself in the jaded and
disordered condition in which Loyd now appeared.

"How ill he looks, poor fellow," said Emily,
as the two sisters left him to dress for dinner.

"I should think he may look ill. Fancy his
travelling on, night and day, through rain, and
sleet, and snow, and always feeling that his few
hours here were to be shortened by all these
disasters. And, besides all this, he is sorry now
for the step he has taken; he begins to suspect
he ought not to have left England; that this
separation—it must be for at least two years—
bodes ill to us. That it need not have been
longer had he stayed at the home bar, and had,
besides, the opportunity of coming out to see us
in Vacation. That it was his friends who over–
persuaded him; and now that he has had a little
time for calm reflection, away from them, he
really sees no obstacles to his success at
Westminster that he will not have to encounter at
Calcutta."

"And will he persist, in face of this
conviction?"

"Of course he will! He cannot exhibit
himself to the world as a creature who does not
know his own mind for two days together."

"Is that of more consequence than what would
really serve his interests, Florry?"

"I am no casuist, Milly, but I think that the