"An odd being, indeed," said Vivian, smiling.

"Then he comes back," went on Lucy, "and
he finds that I have done what he wished; and
of a sudden all his liking, and good sense, and
his wish for my interest, change into a sort of
fury. I have an instinct that at this moment
he hates me, and would kill me, if he could."

"You may despise him, dearest Lucy. He
shall do you no harm, not even by so much as
a look, while I am with you. But we may be
charitable, and believe that this is some morbid
brooding. That strange sister of his, too!"

"Yes, yes," said Lucy, eagerly. "I am sure
that is it, and that he is good; but that he is
a little unsettled in mind. Poor, poor Mr.
West, if it should be that!"

"And do you know," said the colonel, "I
begin to think your father was right in thinking
he saw his face to-day. It is just like what a
man in that state of mind would do—follow and
spy on us."

'"Papa!" said Lucy, starting. "What can
have become of him? He should have come
back by this time; and we are to get back?
It is so late."

"He is here, don't be afraid," said Vivian,
rising. "He has got with some of these good
fellows, and thought we would be rather dull
company for him. I am sure he is in the café,
or close by here, at the Silver Horn opposite.
Shall I run and ask?"

"Do, do," said Lucy, hurriedly, getting her
"things," "and find him."

He was not likely to do that, for Papa
Harco was at this moment delightfully
engaged at a capital café about a mile off,
with two French gentlemen and an English
friend, enjoying themselves. A comic French
Gentleman had given them "The Drum-Major's
Song," with a drum-accompaniment on the
table, that made all the glasses fly into the
air; and Mr. Dacres's turn having now come,
he was warbling, with infinite pathos and
expression,

          "Earth ne'er saw so fair a cree-ature!
               Sweet Maria of the vale.
          She, my love, all heart and nature—"

Vivian had been gone about a moment, when a
stout gentleman came up, bowing and simpering
to Lucy, whom she recognised as the ancient
French "colonel in retreat." She received him
with her natural air of welcome, for she knew
now her father was at hand. "Where is he?"
she said; "where did you leave him? We
wish to go home."

"Go home, my dear mees," said the colonel,
sitting down beside her on the outside, and
thus cutting off her exit, " what folly! Just as
I come up to lay myself at your feet. Nay,
you must not turn away those liquid swimming
eyes from one who would be proud to be
your adorer." From the colonel's own eyes,
much more entitled to be described as
"swimming" than Lucy's, it was plain that
he had recently been enjoying the pleasures of
the table. Much alarmed, she moved away, and
tried to rise and escape from him. The half-
pay colonel followed her. "Ah, pretty little
colombe, what are you afraid of? Of me, your
adorer? Come, don't be unkind, lovely mees."

"Sir," said Lucy, in great agitation, but not
at all losing her presence of mind, "you must
go away; and you must let me pass, or, sir, I
shall call some one."

"What, to Jules or Charles, who know me as
well as my own mother? Nonsense; sit down,
and don't be foolish. There is no use. Your
friend won't return. I sent him a long way to
look for that good child, your papa."

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Lucy, in terror
at this sense of desertion and helplessness.

"You will stay with me, my loveliest, and we
we will be happy. Your lover is gone; why
shall not I do in his room? Come, sit down,
charming mees." Seizing her wrist, he gently
drew her down into the seat beside him.

Lucy was paralysed with terror. Another
girl would have screamed, but she would not
for the world have a crowd and confusion. All
she could find strength to do was to say in
English, "Is there no one here to help me?"

Almost as she spoke she saw a familiar face
gazing at her with sad, solemn, and sorrowful
eyes fixed upon her. That grave figure was
standing before them both, but without speaking
or moving.

The colonel looked at him a moment, then said
sharply, "Well, monsieur, have you finished?
Have you taken your notes for our portraits?"

West did not answer him, but said in
English to her, "This is quite charming! Is this
your last and newest friend?"

Lucy was so astounded at this turn, that she
forgot her situation and its terrors. Her lips
curled, and with scorn she replied, "Is this
your way of befriending a girl? is this your
noble revenge?"

His eyes flashed. "Pray what can you expect
from one who is unsettled in his mind? How
can he behave rationally? I heard that speech"
Then he turned to the colonel. "Sir, you have
made a mistake. This young lady is not alone
here, and I must ask you to retire. I will look
to her and take her to her friends."

The colonel twirled his moustache savagely.
"Come, that is very excellent! Do you know,
sir, you seem to be the intruder here. I can see
by mees's looks that you are not over-welcome.
She wants none of your lectures and warnings."

"You see," said West, still to her, "you see
to what you have exposed yourself."

"Come! Do you hear me?" said the colonel,
standing up and speaking furiously. "Do you
want a soufflet to make you move?"

This ugly word roused West. "I am not
going to make a brawl before this young lady,
and have gendarmes called in. There is another
way of doing this."

"Ah," screamed Lucy, in delight, " there he
is! Oh, you have come back, dear Vivian! You
will protect me. You will save me, if no one
else will."