another; vill not that do as vell?'

Another picture, and the same young man! It was a pastoral sketch. Derwent vowed to possess it at all costs.

'How much for this one?'

'Vill you think it sheap at four guineas, sir?' asked Mr. Soloman briskly.

'Ay, at forty!'

His hands trembled. Mr. Soloman put on his spectacles, and then he understood the drift of his son Samuel's former remarks. The same man who was introduced in all Miss Blackmore's pictures stood before him.

'A nice girl,' said Mr. Soloman, picking up the gold.

'You know her, then? I was going to ask-'

'Gently, my young friend; you vill startle my vife, who is frying fish. Miss Blackmore sat in that parlour and talked to us last week.'

Derwent nearly wrung the Jew's oily hand, and was hardly restrained from rushing into the parlour to see if Patricia might still be there.

'My darling,' he muttered; 'she has not forgotten me!'

'Forgotten you, sir? You shell hear vy ve know you by this time, and had enough of you too, in an artistic point of view. You've been driving over commons, and playing at lawn-tennis and billiards, and dredging, and shelling peas, and haymaking, and gathering apples in orchards; and you vere once a bridegroom.'

'Good gracious!' laughed Derwent. 'I hope that pleasure's to come. And now, sir, the address ?'

Mr. Soloman referred to a small note-book, which he kept in a drawer under the counter, and wrote out Patricia's address in a neat clerkly hand. Derwent carried away the picture under his

arm, and walked quickly in the direction of Hindley-street. Forgotten him? Impossible, when she limned his features! He stopped at the end of Garrick-street, and took another glance at the painting. It suggested a last day in summer. A faint autumnal rustle seemed to stir the thirsty leaves, and revive them with a coolness that drew late scents from the drooping flowers. It was a bright sunny picture, with a stream brawling over a rocky bed; and beneath the trees that darkened the roadside, stood a young man. Derwent's pulses throbbed with pleasure at this new testimony to his power. It was all-convincing. He could feel the ecstasy of her kiss, the charm of her society! His thoughts carried him back to the dear past, when they had been all in all to each other. In the first place, he must have his hair cutDerwent was lover enough to think of trifles, and listen to the still small voice of vanity; and then he must take her some flowers-she was always so fond of them; and as it was exactly two o'clock, a plate of soup would not be amiss. To eat would have been impossible; but he felt faint and dizzy, having taken scarcely any breakfast. Then gloves must also be bought. Poor Derwent was terribly anxious to please Patricia.

And yet, without this foolish unreasoning first love, maturity, its duties, its weariness, and disillusions will arrive, and with them a feeling of depression that we have missed some experiences that soften and redeem us. We do not seek for base motives behind every action; we take a good deal on trust when we are thus beguiled. If Derwent had once nearly ruined himself in his expenditure over collars, cuffs, garments, and jewelry, and went into absurd flights of rapture at the sight of Patricia's

letters, wearing them next his heart, and lingering over every word, he was happy, happier than he may ever be again. The man of the world, with his universal contempt and ephemeral fancies, has many luxuries in his life-art, science, study, sport; all that de light his mind, pride, and senses; he enjoys all that civilisation grants him, and may drink quintessences; but the original divine flavour of the draught is lost. He can reconcile himself, philosophically, to any change, for the love that has nothing celestial in it is a mere appetite. If one woman does not care for him, another will; if one horse doesn't suit his paces, he can change with his friend; if he cannot get Moët, give him Mumm; and so on to the end of the chapter. But he misses that

'Discerning of the infinite in the finite,
Of the ideal made real.'

If he dine privately, at Pinaud's, with one person, there is no reason he should not enter his opera-box publicly with another. He must not outrage society's laws, however much he outrages sentiments; it is as necessary for his class to keep within those laws, as for the criminal class to keep within theirs.

Derwent whiled away an hour ere he mustered up courage to present himself in Hindley-street. How would she receive him? Perhaps, after all, she preferred Mr. Sievely or the doctor! He knocked somewhat timidly, and as the door opened Mr. Jack bounded down the stairs to his side-he was fond of sitting in a cool retreat facing the drawing-rooms, where a bowl of gold-fish amused himand Derwent muttered,

'Dear old fellow! You remember me, don't you?'

Patricia caught the tones of his voice, and clasped the book she was reading tightly between her

She was

white strong hands. alone, for Mrs. Blackmore had gone for a stroll in the park, and Patricia was in a reading mood. He followed the servant up the stairs, and as the door was open Patricia met him on the landing. A half-stifled sob had risen in her throat, with an inward sinking of the heart for all her great joy. She was very pale, and thinner, he thought; and no words were spoken by either till the door was closed on them, and they stood confused but radiant before each other.

'You don't mind my coming to see you, Pat, do you?' said Derwent pleadingly, and slipping the picture down by the side of the sofa. 'I suppose you don't mean to be hard on a fellow, and all that; because it's no use; I mean to come!'

She had been very brave, very proud. She had refused him twice, evaded his pursuit, snubbed him. cruelly; but she loved him. No frowns, no reproaches met him today; only little trembling hands outstretched, emotions kept down by a supreme effort that was almost physical pain, and that flitted across her brow like shadows on a wind-swept stream.

'What could I do?' she faltered. 'I thought of your future, your prospects, and I was too proud, Derwent, to wish for your sacrifice; but now the tears that so rarely came with Patricia starting to her eyes 'I am glad, Derwent: it may be wrong and weak, but I am so very glad, it is almost more than I can bear!'

'Darling, you have been hard to me,' he said, drawing her to him; and I might have gone on in my misery for ever, if—if it hadn't been for going down Garrick-street today. I'm fond of Covent Garden Market, you know, and I brought you these flowers.'

'Thanks,very much,' said Patri

cia, taking them from him and letting him kiss her ear and fluffy little curls; but what about Garrick-street?'

'Why, only this!' cried Derwent, taking up the picture and laying it before her on the table; my likeness !'

Patricia blushed, screamed a little, and covered her eyes with her hand, and told him it was a horrid daub, a mere pot-boiler, and never meant for him; what nonsense! just a fugitive fancy-a chance resemblance.

'And there was another, which was sold,' he said slyly; 'more like me than ever-reading on the sea-shore. But soon you shall have the original, Pat; no replica, but

me.

Won't that be better, dear?' And then, with a good deal of fire and insistence, Derwent told her she must be his wife-mustthere was no help for it. Mr. Jack sat between them, wagging his tail responsively, and remembered how Derwent had balanced sugar on his nose, and tied a letter to his collar one warm Sunday afternoon for his mistress, begging her to attend evening service. And in the midst of the general rejoicing Mrs. Blackmore entered, and took all the situation in at a glance, making Derwent promise to stay to dinner, and satisfied now that his fidelity was without limits.

'And as for this picture,' cried Derwent, carrying it round the room, and trying it on the walls

and in various corners, to find a good light; 'it shall be our gage, our talisman against all future rows or partings. You know, Patricia, I cannot live without you; it may be very selfish, but it's a fact; and I never could see the good of being unnecessarily miserable in this world. When once we're married, Pat-'

Patricia's silvery laughter was good to hear, as she shook her

head; at which Derwent ran after her and kissed her to the verge of suffocation, during a scuffle which made Mr. Jack jump on the table with alarm and surprise.

'Only wait till my income is a little more assured,' said Derwent, ' and we'll furnish a nice suburban villa, where Pat can paint me in costume all day long, if she pleases.'

'Yes, as the Antinous or Apollo Belvidere,' laughed Patricia, arranging his flowers in an epergne.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE WRECK OF THE GALWAY
CASTLE.

The sea is the largest of all cemeteries, and its slumberers sleep without monuments.

.. Over their remains the same storm beats, and the same sun shines,'

DOLLY was sitting in her wellfurnished drawing-room, leaning listlessly back in her chair, chatting with Lileth, who with her husband was passing a month with the Desmonds during the London season. It is really wonderful how beautifully Christian-like are certain sentiments under changed conditions of the fair sex. How readily women of fashion fraternise and forgive each other, so long as both are equally wealthy, any little grievances in the past, when time has softened the galling sense of injury! No one seeing these two fair women chatting together over macaroons and thin breadand-butter at afternoon tea, would have guessed that Mrs. Desmond had once hated her rival, as only the doll-woman can hate; that is, with decorous regard for her own comfort and the proprieties. Dolly knew she looked less pretty when displeased and upset; so she still smiled as sweetly as ever, toying languidly with a large feather fan,

as she studied the cut of Lileth's sleeve, and thought there was just the very least provincial tone about the dear thing.

Dolly looked

more beautiful

than ever; she was dressed à ravir; she was a leader of society, her opinion was sought and studied, and she was one of the most considered women in London. Her ponies were faultless in style and symmetry; she had an opera-box, though she found no pleasure in music, feeling jealous of the artistes who were applauded; she crowded her houses with the most fashionable and best-dressed people of the day, and rioted in every extravagance; for Hugh had come into more money, on the principle that to him that hath shall more be given.' Elegant, distinguée, Elegant, distinguée, brainless, and full of fun; a thorough woman of the world, with all the little sordid maxims, cold calculations, and wisdom society teaches, and possessing a husband who gave her carte blanche for everything, and instantly obeyed her slightest caprice, Mrs. Desmond was a good deal envied, although her smile was called sweetness itself, and her parties remarkable for select people. We have all our ambitions; and she desired to be celebrated for collecting unique specimens of notabilities in birth and fortune. Dolly was very particular as to the social position of those she was introduced to and visited, and could be very nasty to those she did not wish to visit. She liked wealthy connections; they wearied her less, there was more to be got out of them. She disliked having to take guinea tickets to oblige struggling artistes, and was never flattered by the smirks and smiles of any too fascinating Signor.' She was so very chary of her caresses, or any display of affection towards her husband, that Hugh was always at

her feet. She never worried him, made him scenes, or was irritable; and was so piquante and delightful, people said it was a pleasure to see them together, and quite revived their faith in dull and honest matrimony.

So Dolly and Lileth were still excellent friends-'pals,' as Dolly laughingly called them-and far too much in each other's confidence ever to fall out; for she had half a dozen men after her whom she liked quite as well as Eric, who rather bored her; much richer men, and in far better positions, and with greater charm of small-talk, who could get her invitations to the Pinks' and Blues' balls when she wished, without her having to beg favours of duchesses. Dolly and Hugh had just returned from Christie's, where he had bought her some costly little odds and ends and gimcracks-a Louis Quinze vase in céladon green, and other treasures which her inartistic soul coveted. Mrs. Desmond had also admired the portrait of herself in the Royal Academy, painted by Scumble, R.A., posing near it in her best attitudes, and thinking herself far lovelier than the pic

ture.

Dolly had just handed Lileth her cup of tea and a piece of hot toast, sitting on a very low armchair by her side. It was the beginning of June, the year following their marriage, and nothing could have gone smoother than the course of their love. Dolly was now feeding her favourite pug with small pieces of seed-cake, while Lileth stroked his ears.

'How do you think Gwen gets on in society? Dolly was saying, her lovely head reclining on the back of her gold chair-a tiny exquisitely-formed head, of the purely feminine Clytie type, with the twoinch forehead, in which no ugly organs denoting talents could pos

sibly have room to intrude, the smooth brow as yet undisfigured by a single line. I feared one time we should be annoyed by her gaucherie and Vandalism; but she seems to take to society and pleasure like a duck to water.'

'I must confess I see no trace of any sentimental nonsense about her now,' said Lileth, in her slow purring way; 'she's altogether more human, more civilised, and wears such delicious frocks.'

'You should see the ball-dress she will wear to-night at her dance,' said Dolly, her little teeth at work on a ratafia; I chose it. O, lovely! Lionel means to spare no expense. It must be a huge success. And I must coax my dear old boy into letting me give a dance too. I've only got to put my arms round his neck and say "Do!" to get anything I want.'

'He makes a great pet of you, darling, and I'm sure you deserve it,' said Lileth, yawning. These late hours try one; Eric and I are getting tired of it all; we want to run away into the country.'

'Don't,' cried Dolly, alarmed, 'don't do that; that is, if you value your peace of mind, Lil. Men must be amused, they're so slippery and fickle, they go after anything new; and it's better to see a husband fond of society, even if women run after him, than have him grow tired of you-he'd make some excuse to get away then, you may be sure, and mischief will come of it; men are such funny animals.'

'Fancy my Eric growing mischievous, when the money is all settled on poor little me! Mamma saw all about that; she would never give a chance away,' said Lileth, in her artless way. 'Well, I suppose I must go to Gwen's tonight; they expect a crush-invitations have been sent out for two hundred, and with those nice

sliding panels, that does not much matter; the more the merrier.'

Dolly had put down her pug, and had taken up a paper lying on a gipsy-table near.

Have a nap, dear, you look sleepy, till Eric comes in,' said Dolly coaxingly; 'put your dainty little Cinderella feet up on the sofa, and my beauty,' kissing the pug's eyes, 'shall watch o'er thee.'

'I say, Dolly, do you think there ever was anything serious between Valentine Hilliard and Gwen?' asked Lileth, preparing her sofapillows. 'I always wanted to know the truth, for Gwen is a dear girl, so brave and romantic and all that; one can't help feeling just a little sorry for her if she was disappointed in love.'

Disappointed in love!' echoed cautious Dolly, ruffling up her hair with the least touch of impatience and a return of her air mutin. "He may have asked her to marry him, but she was too young to know her own mind then; and such a mysteriously fascinating man, too, like one of those dare-devil colonels we were reading about, he'd stick at nothing. Wanted to run away with Lady Amoret Vane two years ago, and ruined himself for a German prima donna.'

'You don't say so! Valentine Hilliard, whom nobody could really fascinate? And so he did propose to Gwen? It's to be hoped he won't turn up again and unsettle her, and so cause a row; it's all going on so quietly and comfortably at present, isn't it?'

'Very,' assented Dolly, nodding to Hugh, who now peeped in; 'but you have a nice nap before dinner, while I coax my Bruin to let me have a dance next week.'

Lileth smiled and closed her eyes, only too glad of the rest. Eric sometimes walked her off her legs, taking her to the Royal Academy and the Park, and mak