yet with the reflection of a merry, healthy youth still upon it.

Mr. Polkely Seton was about the same age, perhaps a year or so younger, but he looked older; his face was deeply lined, yet more from silent thought than care, for he had been a successful man. An only son, well educated, he had succeeded to a good estate in a longestablished Russian firm. First as junior, and then as senior partner, he was now worth almost what Mrs. Sims had told Mrs. Shrugg -untold gold. But whereas Mr. Shrugg, landless and nearly moneyless, looked the personification of comfort, Mr. Seton had the appearance of being beset with anxiety. Not that his dress was at fault,—that was faultless, scrupulously neat and handsome, and, while strictly in the prevailing fashion, well suited to his time of life. His dark brown eyes were keen and yet emotionless, like the eyes of a bird that look full at you, and yet express nothing; his nose was long and thin, and when he

was thinking, his eyes seemed looking down his nose; his mouth was very thin-lipped, and the wrinkles on either side were remarkably deep; his hair was dark brown, perfectly lank, and brushed straight down, as if with water, very little hair there was, but it was unmixed with grey, though it had worn off the crown which rose from it white and shining; he had very sloping shoulders, and a very long neck, yet he had an easy, manly figure, and was unmistakably gentlemanly in his movements and appearance; prim is the most appropriate term to convey his general expression, and the rose in his coat that never seemed to droop or fade, grew prim too by the contact. Always erect, always well dressed, always calm and collected, a man who would cross the most crowded street without hurrying, and witness the most pathetic play outwardly unmoved; a man from whom the veriest beggar would turn without asking alms, and

of whom no child would presume to ask the time.

Mr. Shrugg, sitting before him, felt that he was the most unlikely person alive to make a romantic match; but Mr. Shrugg's judgment was not infallible.

"These are fine houses," the visitor said, looking round on the large, well-furnished room, after politely excusing his late call, and receiving a polite welcome. "I have

not been in one before."

Yes, they are nice houses," Mr. Seton said, "but I don't use much of this, as you

can imagine. I hardly enter my drawingrooms, except when my friends are good enough to visit me."

"And the garden is so pleasant," Mr. Shrugg continued, turning towards the windows, afraid to be silent a moment, lest the other should suspect anything.

"Ah! I don't care for gardens," Mr. Seton replied, "but they are pleasant, no doubt; it is a healthy situation."

Mr. Shrugg supposed it was. And so the discourse went on in an equally slow and uninteresting manner, till both felt the situation was becoming desperate. Then Mr. Seton pushed on a little, and hoped Mr. and Mrs. Shrugg would dine with him before they left town; he also believed the young ladies were musical, perhaps they would be good enough to come also, and give their opinion of his new piano.

Mr. Shrugg feared they had no time for parties; “and,” he added with a little dignity, "no longer the power to receive our friends in return."

"Oh, this shall be no party-only our mutual acquaintances, Mr. and Mrs. Sims," Mr. Seton exclaimed almost eagerly; "or if you prefer it, not even them.”

"You are very good; but―"

Robert

"It is you who will be good," Mr. Seton interrupted. "Your relation, Mr. Shrugg, was a college friend of

my late

brother-in-law; would you like me to invite him?"

"He's not in town, and I think I rather vexed him the other day, he meant well, but I was rather quick, perhaps; however, he and I are too good cousins to quarrel. But, as I said, we have given up parties."

No, no—indeed-on this occasion, surely." Mr. Shrugg began to feel less sure the letter was a hoax, and to see that there was evident nervousness in his new friend's manner. The evening was drawing on, he had come with the express purpose of unravelling a mystery, and could not go home with it but half unwound. This family invitation was decidedly suspicious; but still, though the words were cordial, the manner continued prim and merely polite. He was a man of the worldif not a worldly man-why should he show attention where there was nothing to be gained in return? Altogether, Mr. Shrugg felt something decisive must be got at, but how to get at it was the difficulty.