horses, and the knights, and the ladies of the
knights, and the wealth that shone with a rawness
and vulgarity, and the nobility of birth, that
glowed with a rich but subdued quietude. She
was delighted with this wonderful show, for she
was a rustic.

Even the loungers—who came to stare and
perhaps remained to talk—attracted her. She
asked about them—about everybody. Pauline
was charming—told her all things. "I like
you to ask me everything," she said, " in that
natural way. I want you to consult me, and in
time to like me, if you can."

"Ah!" said young Mrs. Fermor, stooping forward
a little eagerly, and in some confusion, "is
not that—yes, I am sure it is—-"

"How well you know," said Pauline, looking
at her with a strange quick look. "You are
quite right. We shall call him over. Mr.
Romaine!"

"No, no! indeed, no," said Mrs. Fermor,
hurriedly; "not while I am with you."

"Nonsense!" said Pauline, smiling. " I know
what you are thinking of. You are afraid of
him."

Mr. Romaine, in pale gloves, was at her window.
Mrs. Fermor saw the look of impatience
on his face, as she came into view. "I am
always to be in his way," she thought. He
nodded slightly to her.

"You come to the show," he said, "Miss
Manuel. Of course you do. And yet I know
what you think of the whole business. I am
astonished, you that talk so."

"Never mind that now," she said. " You see
my friend Mrs. Fermor here?"

"I do," he said, looking down to beat his
trousers with his cane; " that is, I should say I
have the pleasure."

"Mr. Romaine was so kind to me the other
day," said Mrs. Fermor, warmly. "And I
am afraid I never thanked him sufficiently
for—-"

"O," said he, " are we never to be out of that
cab!  Heaven preserve us! do let us leave it
where we left it. I declare—and think me
candid, but not rude, please—I am inclined never
to go to the assistance of any one in that way
again."

Pauline looked from one to the other. Mrs.
Fermor showed her confusion and mortification.
"Because you," she said, quickly and
warmly, " are above all these forms, there is no
reason why we should be. I assure you it is
more from respect to ourselves that we say these
things. I should consider myself quite rustic
if I passed it over. You must make allowance;
you should, indeed."

This was all spoken very hastily, and with a
voice that almost trembled. She was a little
quick of temper. He looked at her with really
blank astonishment. Pauline clapped her hands.

"Exceedingly good," she said. "There, that
will do for you" and she pressed Mrs. Fermor's
arm under her shawl with encouragement.

"Charming, my dear," she whispered; " a
good lesson. Now, Mr. Romaine, after that, tell
us news, wicked news, if you have any. There's
old Lady Canonbury rolling by and swinging
like Mahomet's coffin. Look, dear; and she is
worth looking at, for that spotted and fiery face
can be set off with a hundred thousand pounds'
worth of diamonds."

But Mrs. Fermor's face was glowing and
flushing still, and she was biting her plum-
coloured lips with vexation, at the sharp attack
of which she had been the subject. These pretty
little emotions were as yet a sort of awkward
squad, to be trained and drilled into good soldiers
by-and-by.

"What about Miss Löreley's match?" cried
Pauline. " Come, we wait? Begin."

"Look at her" he said, suddenly, " how angry
she is! She could eat me now—make a pin-
cushion of me—all because I won't be overloaded
with thanks. How good!" His eyes were
fixed upon her as if she was some show or exhibition.
Mrs. Fermor only flushed the more.

"No, indeed," she said, " I don't care in the
least. You quite mistake. But I think you
need not have been so excited about my little
thanks."

"Excited!" he said, smiling. " Who here is
excited? I am not. I only speak for myself."

"It's not about that, then?" said Mrs. Fermor.

"What isn't about that, then?" he said, still
amused. "I protest I don't follow."

Still really angry, she would not answer, but
looked out of the window.

"I won't have this," said Pauline. "You
must go away; you are creating a disturbance.
The savage is breaking out. If you really want
a fight, you may have it in my house, with
decency, at the usual hour. There, go." And
she drew up the glass and bade the coachman
drive home.

"O," said Mrs. Fermor, suddenly, "I don't
know what you will think of me. I am quite
ashamed of myself, and of such temper."

Miss Manuel laughed. " It was capital," she
said. " You have done him a world of good. I,
who am not in much terror of him, could not have
said it. Ah! I see you are clever."

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Fermor. "Charles
often tells me I am a child still."

At that name Miss Manuel started a little.
"Some men would have us children always.
Our poor Violet would have been a child always.
Sometimes, looking at you as I do now, it reminds
me of her—something in the tone, something
in the manner. Ah, poor Violet!"

Mrs. Fermor saw the deep eyes glistening.
She was quick and impulsive in all emotions.
She put her hand affectionately on Miss Manuel's
arm .

"Indeed, I feel for you," she said, "and all
about that. Indeed I do. It makes me miserable
at times to think of it. Though I had never seen
her, someway I felt as if it had been for my own,