the next, she was calling herself a fool for taking any notice of the man, who was evidently the worse for drink-a wife-beater, no doubt-a child deserter, perhaps a hypocrite who wanted to excite compassion (Betty was very hard when she once began in this strain)—and giving an impatient "Ugh!" Betty set with renewed activity and vigour to cleaning her doorsteps.

Captain Murdonti noticed the sneering look which Betty cast upon him evidently—perhaps he read the indignant shrug of her shoulders-at any rate, he rose from the doorstep upon which he had been sitting, and, crossing over, astonished Betty by breaking out into a laugh as merry as his fit of weeping had before been violent.

"Fine acting that, wasn't it?" he said, as soon as he could get his breath; "that'll take well with a feeling audience, won't it, now? Cruel fatherdaughter in love-papa says 'No'-lover comes to the house refused pleads for one word - door slammed in his face-sits down on nearest doorstep and weeps-grand effect-father watches from window-suddenly seized with remorse-rushes out -clasps lover to his heart-daughter flies down from her boudoir, gives one fond look to lover, and faints dead at her father's feet, and curtain falls to slow music."

"Lor! ye don't say so!" was Betty's ejaculation. She still held her scrubbing brush in her hand, but

her face was all aglow with the excitement of imagination. No more scrubbing for her that day. She had seen a live bit of acting; she had witnessed a private rehearsal. She only had one wish, as Captain Murdonti left her with a nod a minute or two afterwards, and that was that her doorstep had been the honoured one. Fancy what it would have been to have been able to say, "He sat just exactly on the spot I am scrubbing, and he wept beautifully, as natural as natural, though it was only a play piece."

Well, to have seen it with her own eyes was something, though it took place the other side of the way, and Betty went into the house full of that little bit of "play life," wishing she had had the sense to ask where the piece was coming off, that she might see it all over again, with the other parts fitted in.

Poor Betty! what would she have said had she known those tears were real tears, coming from a heart full of no imaginary sorrow a heart seldom touched a cold, hard heart-all but that one little soft corner so lately reached? Betty would doubtless have wept where now she laughed, have pitied what she now applauded. The world is often deceived as Betty was. Would it be ready to sympathize, did it see things as they are, and not as they seem to be?

Often, like Betty, we prepare the way for deception by thinking hard, cruel things of those who need our sympathy, where they only get our censure.

CHAPTER XIII.

MISS WINTON'S DINNER PARTY.

"How easy to keep free from sin,

How hard that freedom to recall !

For dreadful truth it is that men

Forget the heaven from which they fall."

"CAPTAIN HORATIO MURDONTI" was duly announced in the drawing-room of York Terrace, Regent's Park, on the Tuesday evening following. The few guests invited had already arrived, and their presence helped Miss Winton to receive her brother with her usual dignity, although she trembled greatly, and for the moment would have given anything to be released from her very trying and false position. Whatever Captain Murdonti had looked the morning he called upon his sister, his appearance in his new suit of black to-night, and well-arranged disguise, was unquestionably that of a gentleman; so far, Miss Winton felt considerable relief, but it only in part did away with the intense anxiety she had as to the result of this strange evening.

Nothing could be quieter than Captain Murdonti's

manner, as he seated himself near to his sister, having bowed to the guests, and shaken hands with Florence and Maud; even the merry twinkle, so generally there, had gone from his eyes, and his voice was many tones softer.

Dinner was very shortly announced, and Captain Murdonti, as the greatest stranger, had the honour of taking down his hostess, a fact Miss Winton congratulated herself upon, as she hoped to keep steady watch over him during dinner. Florence sat opposite her father, and Maud, whose fun and nonsense might, her aunt feared, be a little too much for her poor brother, who would so well appreciate it, and yet be expected to keep calm, was placed at the furthest end of the table. Both girls looked very beautiful tonight, dressed in spotless white, with black ribbons in their hair and at the throat and wrists; the simplicity of their attire was perfect. Miss Winton was not sorry her brother should see his daughters thus; their bright girlishness, touched with the dignity and grace of growing womanhood, would never be more felt than now; Maud's freshness, yet entire freedom from coquetry; Florence's gentle thoughtfulness, apart from all self-absorption or sadness-surely no father could fail to feel the softening influence of these two girls.

Whatever Captain Murdonti thought, he very carefully disguised his feelings, chatting quietly with the lady on his right, and occasionally addressing a remark to Miss Winton. Once he spoke across the

table to Florence-" had she taken her constitutional that day in the park?"-but when Florence, with a quiet smile, reminded him it had been pouring with rain since early morning, he had laughed a little at his mistake, in supposing she could "face the elements" for the mere sake of pleasure, and returned to the conversation with the lady near him. At first Miss Winton watched a little anxiously to see whether he would remember his promise about taking wine. Had she dared, she would have liked to have told James beforehand to pass the captain in his various rounds of distribution, but this, of course, would not have done. Her heart beat a little when, to James's question, “Sherry, sir?" her brother had slightly inclined his head, not pausing in what he was saying; but after a few minutes, when she saw the glass remained untouched, her fears began to be allayed. And so the dinner passed off quietly enough, until the dessert having been handed round, James and the parlour-maid withdrew, and conversation became more general.

"Captain, you are drinking nothing, allow me to recommend this port," said Mr Jarrett (a rising barrister, who was presiding at the other end of the table.) "Miss Winton would, I know, like to have your opinion upon it; it comes of good parentage, I can tell you."

"Thank you," replied Captain Murdonti, and, for almost the first time that evening, the merry twinkle