part of that hopeless gloom that was to
overshadow his course. And then with a sort of
relief, and even a little excitement, he would
withdraw himself into his study, to forget everything
in the details of the little delicate
negotiation he was preparing.

Ointhe Sunday, the captain's figure was seen
limping up at half-past five o'clock. He made
the third at the little table; and though he had
no American smartness, not even sharpness,
he had that surprising instinct—almost as good
—which comes of unselfish interest in, and
concern for, others. Several times he was looking
wistfully from one to the other. Perhaps he saw
the constraint. After she was gone up, he said
to his friend, " My dear Tillotson, what is this?
There is something, now—you won't be angry
with me—between you and our little girl."

"My dear captain," said Mr. Tillotson, laying
his hand upon his sleeve, " angry with you! or
make a mystery with you! No," he added,
with a sigh, "there is nothing beyond the old,
old story, that everything I attempt turns out
wrong. Poor child! "Tis a pity for her!"

"For her!" said the captain, with affected
eagerness. " The best thing that could happen
her. My dear friend, will you trust Tom—old
Tom, who has seen a bit of life? This is all in
tbe regular course. I've seen many a girl, and
many a married girl; and just for the first, you
know, we must let them have their little airs
and ways, the creatures! And goodness me,
Tillotson, when we think of all they must
go through, and how gently they take everything,
when some of us get out of humour if
a satin stock is a little too stiff! Why, I
suppose, now," added the captain, philosophically,
" if she didn't go on a little, it would be
unnatural—quite unnatural."

Again Mr. Tillotson put his hand on the cuff
of the other. "My dear captain," he said,
"you are too good for us here! But I have
no secrets from you. The truth is this, the
whole has been a mistake—a miserable mistake.
And I must resign myself to it."

An expression of painful conviction came
into the captain's face, to be replaced in a
second by one of joyous alacrity. " Ah,
Tillotson," he said, " my dear friend, you are not
an old boy, like me; and though you could buy
and sell Tom over and over again in business,
still he has picked up a thing or two about the
girls. God bless me! All I saw in Paris!"
(And this gentle, loyal, and most upright
gentleman—which, indeed, he was in all things
—seemed for the moment to hint that his
experience with ladies had been of a wild and
desperate sort.) " Ah, the creature!" he went
on, " this is only her little way of showing her
love. Why, I saw Hilyar in Paris, with as elegant
a woman as you ever came across, dressed just
like a lady, and she went over and over again
with all that, until I thought poor Hilyar would
have gone mad. It's just her little way. They
like just to show their pride. Why, I know it,
Tillotson. She dotes on you. And why not?
A fine soldier-like looking young fellow."

Mr. Tillotson smiled sadly. " Ah, that's just
it!" he said. " There was the mistake. She
should have had a fine soldier-like young fellow,
as you describe him, and not an ancient dried-
up old Ledger like myself. No matter," he
said, seeing the captain's face lengthening, " I
suppose you are right, and that it will all come
round in time."

"To be sure it will," said his friend,
joyfully; " and Tom tells you so. I wish she was
rid of that little cough, though; she has it too
long—eh, Tillotson? Do you know what I was
thinking of during dinner? Just bringing in
our good doctor (who is very fond of her, I
can tell you). All in a friendly way, as if for a
visit."

"Do do," said Mr. Tillotson, eagerly. ''You
can say it to her, you know." (Again a little
pain came into the captain's face.)

The next day the doctor's carriage drove up,
and he dropped in, in his friendly way. " Come
to see you," he said, noisily. "Passing by the
top of the street—sudden instinct, and little
inspiration—had to shriek to my fellow (there
was a train of coal waggons passing) to turn
down. Well, and how are we—how is our
little chest? Do you recollect the night you
got me away from my dinner? Oh, ho!" And
the doctor laid his finger knowingly on the side
of his nose.

But a " tightness" had come upon the mouth
of the little lady, and a sort or bitter srnile.
"O, that is all so long ago," she said.

"Well, but how are we?" he said. " I want
to know how we are getting on?"

"O, excellently," she answered—" perfectly
well. Never was better, doctor, either in health
or spirits."

"No, no," he said. " I heard you cough as I
came up-stairs. Sit down. I want to see our
chest."

"O, sir!" she said, with a sort of bitterness
that puzzled him, " I suppose they sent you to
me? I understand all these stratagems. I am
sure it is very kind of you; but really I don't
want—-"

"No matter," he said, gravely. "As I am
here, I may as well hear how you are." He had
an authoritative manner she could not resist,
and submitted.

But he told at a dinner-party that very day,
that as for women they were as bad as Hebrew,
and that there was a little chit who he might have
taken on his knee a month ago, but who was
quite upset by being well married, and whose airs
were the most amusing thing in the world. " And
only that this poor little soul has just 'a touch
of consumption' on her little chest that she
must look after, I should have set her down a
bit. By the way," continued the doctor, "I
could tell you a good little story about that very
little woman. I had a few friends to dinner,
and you know my inflexible rule is, once the
covers are off, &c. &c." And he proceeded to
tell—and tell very well—that little history of
our little lady's visit, which the reader may
perhaps recollect.