up and down, here and there, about everywhere,
singing the one song. Everybody's got the
glad tidings by this time."

"What glad tidings, Harco?"

"The wedding, you witch. The nuptials.
' Take thou this ring, love,' and all that," he
added, quoting from an opera then in the first
flush of popularity. "Thursday three weeks,
my pet, is the joyful day. Sing—————" Here
Mr. Dacres devotionally:

"Sing the glad day,
While we thus humbly pray,
Join in his praise.

Yes; Thursday three weeks, at half-past ten
in the morning. God save the King!"

Lucy's eyes brightened. " What, papa!
Then Vivian has got news?"

"I don't know; maybe so. I've settled it
that way. He and I understand each other
perfectly. You are married, pet, on Thursday,
same day and hour, or our friend don't make
a passenger in that first line-of-packet ship,
Duchess of Kent. No, no. It's settled now
beyond a mistake, and far better so."

"Oh, papa," said Lucy, vehemently, " why
do you interfere in this way? I understand
Vivian perfectly. I know his heart thoroughly,
and that he loves me, and will do anything in
his power."

"I hope so. The only thing on my mind,
sweet, is how to raise the breakfast. It won't
be so hard. A wedding means money and a
little furnishing. We'll have a few—- just a few,
and a speech or two, in the good English way.
I'll have a Frenchman or two, just to show 'em
how we can tickle up a jury. But I'll not let in
those impostors, the Beauforts. Don't let 'em
think it. Not one of 'em."

"Oh, why not, Harco dear? They will be so
offended."

"They're Brummagem, I fear. As for that
snob, the brother—- mind, I tell you—- he's a
humbug!"

"Oh, papa," said she, suddenly, " that poor
lady, Mrs. Wilkinson, has just gone, and I don't
know what will become of her. How can we
help her?"

"Don't come to me, sweet, said he, ruefully.
"I'll want every nap. we can scrape————"

"It's not that, Harco." And she began to
tell him the whole story.

"Is that all? He's a common fellow enough.
Mind, I say it. As for the woman herself, she's
a weak poor thing."

"Oh, I see her coming back again," said
Lucy, running to the window. "Oh, you will
see her, papa—- speak to her. Won't you?"

"I will, I will, pet. Lovely woman!" added
he, breaking into a quotation.

"Angels are painted fair to look like you.

Ah, my dear Mrs. Wilkinson, come back to see
me, I know. You made me out at the window."
"No," said she, hurriedly. "I wanted to
settle with Lucy. Would you let me go with
you to this ball?"

"You are not going, though," said Lucy,
reproachfully. " Oh no."

"Not going!" said Mr. Dacres. " Why not?
Would you have us getting there into realms
of eternal night, groping our way distracted,
with the lamp that should brighten our course
quenched and in darkness?"

"My husband unreasonably wishes to keep
me away, simply to annoy me, and, I suppose,
disgrace me before the people."

"Lulu, darling, run and tell poor mamma I'll
come to her presently. She's not herself at all.
Now, my dear ma'am, tell me what's this? what's
your good man been doing?"

The lady again entered on the story of her
wrongs very excitedly. She was indiscreet and
young, as we have said, and as weak as to
tell this story to the merest, stranger.

He listened gravely. " But what about this
fellow, young Beaufort?"

"What about him?" said she; " what but
this, that he is my friend and my protector."

" I hope it will never come to that, ma'am,"
he said, gravely. "You couldn't have picked
out a worse, I can tell you. He's a poor
creature, Mrs. W., and you'll get no credit by the
transaction."

"I shall get sympathy," said she—-"
sympathy and kind words, which are a great deal
to me."

"No, no. Not at all. Believe me, I have
an interest in you, because my little dear girl
here has. But we men, you know, that knock
about here, and knock about there, we see and
say more than our prayers. And Mr. Ernest
Beaufort, as he calls himself, is just the lad to
have his fun out of the transaction. He's a
poor unchivalrous creature, and would sacrifice
any one or anything. Harcourt Dacres knows
men, I can tell you."

Here Lucy came fluttering back, her cheeks
flushed. " He is below; he is coming up-stairs.
Ah! this was what you came back for!"

"As I live, no," said the lady, passionately.
"Will you believe me, I never knew it—- never!'*

"I tell you what," said Mr. Dacres, with a
twinkle of enjoyment in his eye, "shall we have
a little bit of a play—- true comedy? Just get
into that next room, both of you, d'ye hear me?
We'll just draw this wisp of a portière, and no
one will be a bit the wiser."

"Just as you like."

Lucy was fond of "a bit of fun," and overcame
any scruples in her friend by dragging her in
quickly. In a moment Mr. Ernest's face was
put in, and he looked round with a simple air.

"I thought——- " he said; " why, are the
ladies all out?"

"All, you yourself, Mr. Beaufort! Won't
you sit down? They'll be in soon," he added,
adroitly, " giving the go-by to a lie," as he
afterwards said. " Mrs. W. was here a minute
ago."

"Was she," said Mr. Beaufort, carelessly
and insolently, " really now?"

"Oh, really now, and truly now. Sat about
two feet from where you are now. Ha, ha! Ah,