so strictly, that insensibly her feelings would
slide into the merest sisterly interest, and so
she would be prepared to accept any other
eligible offer that came in her way. In fact,
Mr. Henry Harley demonstrated to Mrs.
Smith in the clearest and most logical
manner, that the best way to cure a girl
of an unfortunate attachment was for her
lover to remain in the same house with her,
seeing her every day, constantly employed in
friendly offices for her, such as teaching her
drawing—figures of Cupids and Ariadnes, and
pretty little Psyches; reading poetry to her
while she sketched; discussing with her
matters of psychological interest; and so
taming her feelings down to a sisterly attachment
by tenderness and affection. And then
in the end, he assured Mrs. Smith, Mildred
would cease to love him, and be the happy
wife of some one else! It was quite affecting,
the picture he drew of the beneficent
of his remaining always near her!

Mrs. Smith, being a guileless, innocent
woman, believed him, and consented to his
arrangement; and told Mildred not to be
silly, but to love Mr. Harley from henceforth
as a brother. At which Mildred cried, and
said she would.

Matters now went on oiled hinges; and
every one was satisfied. Mr. Harley was glad
not to be turned out of a comfortable house
where he had all his own way, and a pretty
girl to love him into the bargain; Mrs.
Smith was glad not to lose a boarder; and
Mildred glad not to lose a lover. For, of
course, they were still lovers; Mr. Harley
taking no notice of her in public, had to make
up for it in private, to Mildred's great
bewilderment and the increase of her passion:
perhaps, because of this secresy, loving her
artistic reprobate more than if all had been
confessed and common-place. They managed
their affairs so well, however, that no one in
the house—not even Ann—suspected Mildred
Smith of loving Mr. Harley; still less did
any one suspect Mr. Harley of making the
most violent love to Mildred Smith, whenever
he was a moment alone with her,
which moments, he contrived, should be
pretty frequent.

Least of all did Mr. Kelly suspect that he
had a rival; and that his rival was master of
the situation.

What a strange life was Mildred's now!
Openly slighted, and sometimes fairly
insulted, by the ladies; disowned by her lover
in society, to be so fervently indemnified in
private; knowing that she had five hundred
a year and expectations waiting for her
acceptance, which, if she accepted, Mrs.
Lyndon, the stockbroker's wife in difficulties,
and Miss Manvers, of the good family and
traditional beauty, would then be obliged to
look up to her, yield her precedence, and be
thankful to be patronised by her: her private
life, and her public standing in this boarding
house society so different from each other,
her head was sometimes giddy with the
various thoughts and feelings that used to
rush so tumultuously through it. And as
she thought of the position he was merely
waiting for an opportunity to offer her, Mildred
would look up gratefully at Mr. Kelly,
with her sweet, dreamy eyes; at which that
loose-limbed gentleman would knot himself
up into an angular conglomeration of
misfitting members, and feel almost as joyous as
if he had found a new coinage of the time of
Alfred.

Mr. Kelly, never very precipitate, at last
made up his mind to write to Mildred. He
had been a long time about it, but he was
one of those queer men without impulse who
find as much satisfaction in thoughts as they
do in facts. And as he believed that Mildred
loved him, belief was quite as good as
knowledge. However, he did write at last, and
made her an offer of his hand and heart, his
present goods and future expectations, and
concluded by expressing his conviction that
she was an unique specimen of womanhood,
and one that any man might be proud
of possessing in his collection.

Mildred kept the letter for some days
unanswered. It was such a triumph to hold
in her hand the veritable offer the ladies said
she had manoeuvred so hard to get—to hold it
to refuse! It was such a luxury to sacrifice
this splendid position to her love. She
could not better prove the intensity and
singleness of her feelings for her double-dealing
lover; and she gloried in her sacrifice
as a martyr suffering for his faith.

She wrote to Mr. Kelly; kindly, gently,
gratefully, coaxingly. But she said no. Mr.
Kelly rubbed his eyes, winked, carried the
letter into the sunlight, turned it round and
about, and inside out, and upside down, and
still could make out only the same startling
words,—"thanks; sorrow; no."

Not a syllable more passed on the subject.
All had been said that need be said, and
Mildred was now left the only sufferer. The
offer, with its rejection, was kept a profound
secret from every one; from Mrs. Smith,
more carefully than from the rest; for if she
had known that Mildred had refused such a
magnificent settlement for love of Mr. Henry
Harley, she would have banished that
undesirable individual forthwith, as indeed he
deserved; and would so have cut off all Mildred's
happiness at a blow. For, as is but natural,
Mildred loved all the more because of the
sacrifice her love had cost her—a sacrifice
Mr. Henry Harley showed himself in no wise
grateful for, merely giving her a kiss, and
calling her a "regular little trump," when
she told him.

But she had a bitter punishment to
undergo now. Mr. Kelly, in the midst of all
his queer shambling ways, had the very pride
of Lucifer in his heart, and the little girl's
refusal roused it to the full. He was at first
speechless with indignation; and then angry;