attribute of instinct. Every animal knows its enemy, and provides against the emergency of being thrown into contact with it."

"But Mrs. Scarsdale is not your enemy, Ella. I ask you to substitute reason for instinct, and to tell me if there is any rational cause for our pointedly excluding her on an occasion of this kind."

"I do not like you, Dr. Fell;

The reason why, I cannot tell.'

But I suppose you, dear, rational, little mamma, will tell me that is rhyme, not reason, as the poet himself confesses."

Mrs. Dobree laughed. "I share your prejudice, child; but then I call it prejudice, and cannot offend a dear old friend of your father's, like Mr. Hamilton, simply for the satisfaction of my own irrational instincts."

"You are always wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best,' and I am fortunate in having your kind heart at my side to counteract my roughness and angularity, dear mother. Let the woman with the eye-glass come by all means. I only wish you did not seem to think that our dear Mr. Hamilton's peace and happiness were so much concerned in the matter."

"I don't think they are, in that sense,' answered Mrs. Dobree, smiling. She answered the spirit rather than the letter of Ella's observations.

The two ladies were sitting in Ella's boudoir in that very room where, three years ago, she had fallen at Lesbia's feet and had beaten her breast in remorseful self-accusation. The windows overlooked a secluded part of the grounds. The approach to the house was on the other side, and no sound of coming or depart

ing wheels could be heard from Ella's sitting-room. She stood now for a moment silent at the window. Two gardeners were sweeping the path amongst the laurels; and as they made large semicircular sweeps with their brooms, the feathery snow flew into the air, and fell again in white, glistening powder on the thick, shiny leaves of the laurel bushes. A little beyond the gardeners, hopping daintily in their track, as though hoping that the beneficent brooms might have laid bare some unwary worm, was a little robin redbreast, its head archly perked first on one side, then on the other; its clear, bright eyes peering knowingly round in every direction. The gravel path was growing longer and longer, the little feathery spirts of snow dwindling in the distance; the robin had disappeared, and the men were rapidly

becoming mere specks, and still Ella stood silently at the window, apparently lost in thought. Where were her thoughts? Were they in Rome? Was she thinking of the winter when she had borne away the undisputed palm of beauty at the Roman balls? Was she thinking of that midnight wandering round the Coliseum, when such pain had come to her life? Was she thinking of the bright afternoons in the Borghese Gardens, of drives across the desolate Romagna, of the Corso, the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the Carnival, or the grand Easter solemnities? There was an expression of settled gravity on her face-a gravity that might almost have been pain, but that it was too calm.

stood at the door as though waiting for further orders.

"Ask Captain Dobree to walk upstairs," said her mother.

"Not here, mamma," exclaimed Ella; then, recovering herself, and looking at the man-servant, she said, "But perhaps, after all, it is the most comfortable room in the house just now; my coming grandeur disarranges everything. Yes. Ask Captain Dobree to come to us

here."

Mrs. Dobree looked at her daughter doubtfully.

"You will be kind to him, dear?” "Of course I shall be kind to him. I always am."

There was no time to dispute this assertion, for Hugh's eager footsteps had outstripped the servant's, and he was already at the door.