good-natured condescension which over-indulged young men are apt to exercise towards their mothers, or any other good women whose love for them has never waxed cold. "How d'ye do, Polly Better late than never, eh?"

Mrs Cornford's conduct was not precisely what might have been looked for under the circumstances. Had Perry come home sick, dejected, tatterdemalion, her tenderness would have equalled the tenderness of a mother nursing a suffering baby; but seeing him evidently in vigorous health and buoyant spirits, and, as far as appearances went, totally unmindful of the intense suffering he had caused her, the great love of the woman for once rose up in rebellion against her darling. She tried to put on a jaunty air, took her old place at the dinnertable, bade Perry sit down and eat, as she said, "not according to his deserts, but according to his welcome," and was about to help him, when her fortitude broke down, and hiding her face in the corner of the table-cloth, she cried like a child.

Perry, whose attention had been wholly absorbed by Laura during the last few minutes, and the bewitching effect of her violet velvet pelisse bordered with soft white fur, now turned to Mrs Cornford in dismay..

"Polly!" he cried, "what's the matter? Is that the way to welcome a fellow whose perils have beaten Sinbad's hollow? Thrice was I devoured of lions-nearly; thrice were my unburied bones bleached by the sun of the Sahara-at least, within an inch of it; I've been all but assassinated by wandering Bedouins, yet here I am safe and sound!"

Then he went up to his old friend, and drew away the table-cloth from her face, and smiled down upon her, and kissed her as a son might have done, and said foolish little endearing things. And Polly Cornford forgot everything except her joy that this her prodigal "was dead, and was alive again, lost and was found."

After a little further talk, Perry sat down and devoured all they gave him, rushing up-stairs in the midst to shake old Petroffsky by the hand.

Mrs Cornford sent out Mary Hann for a bottle of sparkling Bordeaux; and Laura, who had risen to take leave once or

"You know you don't believe in me the least bit," Perry said. “You are like Kitty you think me the most visionary creature in the world. Now, Laura Norman "

"Oh! the vanity of men!-who shall compass it? "" said Mrs Cornford-"who shall mortify it? But come, my good Perry, tell me where you fell ill, and how it came about that I was so many months without hearing of you. You can make up your mind whether you will marry Laura Norman or the Queen of the Sandwich Islands to-morrow."

And she carried Perry up-stairs to Petroffsky's room, that the lonely old man might be amused by his story, which lasted till the evening came on. Then Perry went out to see one or two of his friends, who kept him till past midnight, Mrs Cornford waiting supper for him meanwhile.

After a few days he fell into his old habits-painting when the humour seized him; playing on his piano for hours at a time; doing the things he liked to do, and avoiding those he found irksome. He seldom mentioned Kitty's name, and always with the utmost bitterness. Mrs Cornford accepted it as a healthy sign that at last he acknowledged she did not care for him.

"She will marry that mean little beggar, Sir George Bartelotte," he had said once or twice, telling Mrs Cornford at the same time all sorts of stories he had picked up somehow about Sir George's odd ways. And, true enough, before Perry had been home a week, came the following confirmation of his fears in the Court Journal-the paragraph having been sent Mrs Cornford by a friend who was a dressmaker in the West End-"A marriage is about to take place between Sir George Bartelotte, Bart., of Akenholme Park, Berks, and Miss Katharine Silver, daughter of the late Reverend Nehemiah Silver, of London."

"Well done, thou daughter of Mammon !" cried Mrs Cornford, after reading the extract to Perry over their dinnertable. "May we all serve our gods as faithfully as thou hast done, and get as well rewarded! Health and long life to my Lady Bartelotte, and a good appetite to her for the flesh-pots of Egypt."

Perry's eyes were devouring the paragraph, and he did not. heed Mrs Cornford's speech.

"Come, Perugino," she said, with a little forced gaiety, "toast our old comrade. Let bygones be bygones, and wish Kitty good luck."

"I can't be a hypocrite," said poor Perry, looking utterly miserable. "She has been my perdition. Why should I wish her good luck? I hope she will be a little unhappy sometimes."

"Stuff and nonsense!" interrupted Polly. "Have you no religion in you? Do you take Kitty to be like the brute beasts, born without a soul? Do you suppose the gilt on her gingerbread is an inch thick? I've other notions, and I wish the poor thing good luck."

"You are the most extraordinarily inconsistent person in the world," Perry answered, savagely. "Had Kitty done the right thing, and married me, I suppose you would have blamed her conduct as much as you seem to approve of it now."

"Who says I approve, O paragon of donkeys?" said Mrs Cornford. "It isn't for us poor fools to judge each other, or to dole out the kicks and halfpence of this world either. If Kitty gets halfpence to day, I'm glad ; and if kicks to-morrow, which there's little doubt of, I'll put salve on the bruises, and make no remarks."

"You think she will be unhappy?" asked Perry, with a touch of self-reproach. "O Kitty, Kitty!"

And saying this he rushed up-stairs to his studio, and locked himself in for the rest of the day.

The news of Kitty's approaching marriage reached Dr Norman's quiet household at the same time. Laura cut out the paragraph and sent it to Regy, who professed himself to be Kitty's devoted admirer still, and Prissy deluged her elder sister with questions about Kitty's future rank and position in the world. Dr Norman made no comment, determined to let matters take their course; but when day succeeded day, and Kitty's marriage was still the theme at meal-times, he said one morning, in a very decided tone of voice

66 Children, let this be the last talk about Miss Silver. It is right that we forgive her for the wrong she has done us; but

we can never have part or lot with her any more, and the sooner her very name is forgotten the better."

66

‘May Laura and I talk about her when we are by ourselves,” Prissy asked.

"I think you might easily find a more pleasant subject," Dr Norman said, bitterly.

"Laura doesn't care for my subjects, papa, and likes to walk for miles without speaking," Prissy said.

Laura blushed deeply.

"Settle your subject when out walking as you like," Dr Norman answered; but, for Heaven's sake, let us have our meals in future without all this talking about Kitty."

"O papa, dear, how cross we are to-day!" cried pert Miss Prissy, patting his hand reprovingly.

"We have enough to make us cross, I think," Dr Norman said, not heeding his little girl's caress.

"Have we? but Dr Watts says that we should not let our angry passions rise,' papa."

"Dr Watts was a fool," Dr Norman answered.

"Then I won't learn any more of his hymns," Miss Prissy rejoined.

Dr Norman felt hereupon bound to give his little daughter an explanation.

66

Pray understand me, Prissy," he went on. "If Dr Watts had said we should not let our angry passions rise for nothing, he would have been right. But there are occasions when it is one's duty to be angry. For instance, Martin Luther was right to let his angry passion rise against the Pope."

"And Kitty is your Pope, isn't she, papa? Naughty Pope! Poor Martin Luther!"

Then the patting and caressing began again, and Dr Norman, seeing no way to enlighten Prissy's moral notions. further, took refuge in his library. His experiments and lucubrations did not go on well for the next few days. The former seemed unsatisfactory, the latter uninteresting. invited a friend or two to dinner; but the conversation lagged, to his thinking, and the dishes were ill-cooked. He accompanied Laura to a small evening party, and found the

He

women very dull or very frivolous. He received a flattering invitation from a learned society at Halle to read a paper there before their next assembly, coupled with a report of his speculations, and he thought what learned lumber German writing was, and what a long journey this vexatious amiability compelled him to make!

In plain English, the tidings of Kitty's approaching marriage put Dr Norman into a state of irritation which lasted for several days, and might have lasted much longer, but for a severe cold, which he caught whilst moodily studying the binary stars from the house-top one damp autumnal night.

The cold, with its attendant discomforts, kept him to his bed for a week, and effectually cured his ill-temper.

Meantime, when the first flush of her great joy had passed away, Laura's heart was full of wonder and uneasiness. Should she encounter Perry again? Did he care for her still? Would he devise some way of seeing her and speaking to her sometimes? She remembered that she was no longer a child, and that Perry's friendship for her must henceforth mean more than it had done a year ago. And in those sweet days of comradeship it had not been all over with Perry and Kitty; but Kitty was lost to Perry now, and Laura read in his bright looks and buoyant manner happy auguries for herself.

She did not grudge Kitty the early, faithful passion of that dear heart for Kitty had been a goddess to Laura also-but she longed to recompense him for past sufferings by loving him and clinging to him till life should end. This was sweet Laura's ambition.

CHAPTER LXI.

66 FROGGY WOULD A-WOOING GO."

PERRY shut himself up in his studio for several days, and refused alike counsel and comfort from everybody. When night came on, he would wrap himself up in his Spanish cloak, and stalk up and down the lonely Brompton lanes, to the infinite terror of any benighted little milliner's apprentice,