Macleod of Dare

onditions in which a young man should show impatience. And yet the cunning dishes which Mr. Ogilvie, who had a certain pride in his club, though it was only one of

he should have himself proposed at, with a view to getting elected in a dozen

Miss White again," said Mr.

n London," said Macleod. "What shall I do in this

se to you. Colonel Ross may be. Or Lord Beauregard.

d, gravely; "that

at him, here proposed that they should have a cigar before walking up to the Piccadilly Theatre; but as it was now ten minutes to eight, Macleod resolutely refused. He begged

icture of a blue Italian lake, with peacocks on the wide stone terraces. The noise at first was bewildering. The leader of the orchestra was sawing away at his violin as savagely as if he were calling on his company to rush up and seize a battery of guns. Wh

e piece to be played, he had not the slightest interest in either. The building was very pretty, no doubt; but it was only, in effect, a superior sort of booth; and as for the trivial amusement of watching a number of people strut across a stage and declaim-or perhaps make fools of themselves to raise a laugh-that was not at all to his liking. It would have been different had he been able to talk t

o that house you mentioned,

ed yet," said Ogilvie; "

Mrs.

raving about the chief actress; artists painting her portrait; poets writing sonnets about her different char

mean the

t's wonderful what you can do in that way. If a duke wants a clown to make fellows laugh after a Derby dinner, he gets him to his house and makes him dance; an

two figures in this hall, and they spoke-in the high and curious falsetto of the stage. Macleod paid no more heed to them than if they had been marionettes. For one thing, he could not follow their speech very well; but, in any case, what interest could he have in listening to this old lawyer explaining to the stout lady that the family affairs were grievously involved? He was still intently watching the new-comers who strag

er garden hat on to a couch, and got up on a chair to get fresh seed put in for her canary. It was all done so simply, and naturally, and gracefully that in an instant a fire of life and reality sprang into the whole of this sham thing. The woman was no longer a marionette, but the anguish-stricken mother of this gay and heedless girl. And when the daughter jumped down from the chair again-her canary on her finger-and when she came forward to pet, and caress,

espair of the old lawyer as she stood before him twirling her garden hat by a solitary ribbon; and when the small, white fingers raised the canary to be kissed by the pouting lips, the action was more graceful than anything he had ever seen in the world. But where was the silent and serious girl who had listened with such rapt attention to his tales of passion and reveng

coquette" (Macleod could have cried to her), "the days are not always full of sunshine; life is not all youth, and beauty, and high spirits; you may come to repent of your pride and your cruelty." He had no jealousy against the poor youth who took his leave; he pitied him, but it was for her sake; he seemed to know that evil days were coming, when she would long for the solace of an honest man's love. And when the trouble came-as it speedily did-and when she stood bravely up at first to meet her fate, and when she broke down for a time, and buried her face in her hands, and cried with bitter sob

drop was let down; there was a stir througho

has come into that

had just arrived and was seated there, he would scarcely have been surprised. As it was, he looked up and

said. "And I think Colonel Ross is as profound a believer in

leod said

and got hold of his crush hat, "that you are meditating

s conscienc

any enthusiasm for most things that people rave about, but I do think t

rs. Ross's box. Apparently he was well received there, for he did not make his appea

hall she approach? Suddenly he hears the low voice-she comes nearer. Now let the world laugh again! But, alas! when she does appear, it is in the company of her lover, and it is only to bid him good-by. Why does the coward hind take her at her word? A stick, a stone, a wave of the cold sea, would be more responsive to that deep and tremulous voice, which has now no longer any of the art of a wilful coquetry about it, but is altogether as self-revealing as the generous abandonment of her eyes. The poor cipher! he is not the man to woo and win a

o your arms? and you, you poor ninny, are giving yourself airs, and doing the grand heroic! And then the shy coquetry comes in again. The pathetic eyes are full of a grave compassion, if he must really never see her more. The cat plays with the poor mouse, and pretends that really the tender thing is gone away at last. He will take this half of a broken sixpence back: it was given in happier times. If ever he should marry, he will know that one far away prays for his happiness. And if-if these unwomanly tears-And suddenly the crass idiot discovers that she is laughing at him, and that she has secured him and bound

o see you for a mi

eod answere

ike, to get into a hansom and d