for in this world that I can't give you; you were made to occupy a brilliant position, and I love you better than I ever loved any human creature.'

He took her hand, which she did not withdraw from him; she let him hold it in his strong grasp, a poor little icy-cold unresisting hand. For the first time it dawned upon her that she had done him a great wrong.

'Do you really care for me?' she asked with a serious wondering air. 'I am so sorry, and begin to see that I have done wrong; I ought to have been more candid. But indeed, Lord Paulyn, it is my aunt's fault. I begged her to tell you of my engagement. I would have told you myself eyen, only,' with a feeble little laugh, 'I could hardly volunteer such a piece of information; it would have been so presumptuous to suppose that you were in any danger from our brotherly and sisterly acquaintance.'

'Brotherly and sisterly be hanged!' said the Viscount; you must have known that I doated on you. God knows I've let you see it plain enough. I've never hid my light under a bushel.'

After this there came another brief silence. Elizabeth looking thoughtfully at the rippling water, Lord Paulyn watching her face with a gloomy air.

'Come,' he said at last, 'what is it to be? Are

you going to throw me over for the sake of this curate fellow ? Are you going to bury yourself alive in a country parsonage, teaching a pack of snivelling children psalm-singing? You've tasted blood; you know something of what life is. Come, Lizzie, be just to yourself and me. Write this Forde fellow a civil letter telling him you've changed your mind.'

'Not for Egypt,' said Elizabeth, turning her flashing eyes upon him-eyes which a moment before had been gazing dreamily at the river. You do not know how I love him. Yes, I love the world too,' she went on, as if answering that sordid plea by which the Viscount had endeavoured to sustain his suit; 'I do love the world. Its pleasures are all so new to me, and I have enjoyed my life unspeakably since I've been in London, yes, in spite of being parted from him. But I could no more give him up than I could cut my heart out of my body, and live. I am quite willing to admit that I have done wrong;'-this with an air of proud humility which was very rare in Elizabeth Luttrell-'I beg your pardon, Lord Paulyn; I entreat you to forgive me, and accept my friendship instead of my love. You have been very kind to me, very indulgent to all my caprices and tempers, and believe me I am not ungrateful.'

'Forgive you!' he echoed, with a harsh laugh;

'be your friend, when I had made up my mind to be your husband! Rather hard lines. However, I

suppose friendship must count for something; and as you prefer the notion of psalm-singing and three sermons a Sunday to a house in May Fair, a yacht at Cowes, a racing-box at Newmarket, and stables in Yorkshire I should have liked to show you my Yorkshire stables and stud farm,' with a dreamy fondness as you have made your choice, I suppose I must abide by it. And we'll be friends, Lizzie. I may call you Lizzie, mayn't I? It's only one of the privileges of friendship.'

'You may call me anything you like, if you'll only promise never to renew this subject, and to forgive me for having unwittingly deceived you.'

The Viscount clasped her hand in both of his, then touched it with his lips for the first time. And as he kissed the little white hand, with a fond lingering pressure, he vowed a vow; but whether of friendship and fealty, or of passionate, treacherous, selfish love, was a secret hidden in the soul of the Viscount himself.

Elizabeth accepted the kiss as a pledge of fidelity, and anon began to talk of indifferent subjects with a somewhat forced gaiety, as if she would have made believe that there had been no love-scene between

Lord Paulyn and herself. They left the landingplace, and strolled slowly on to join the Major and aunt Chevenix, who were both sorely weary of their enforced meanderings. The matron smiled upon Elizabeth with the smile of triumph; she had seen. those two motionless figures from afar as she paced the other end of the long terrace with her companion, and assured herself that the Viscount had come to the point.

Now, as they came towards her walking side by side with a friendly air, she told herself that all was well. Elizabeth had renounced the ways of foolishness, and had accepted that high fortune which a bounteous destiny had reserved for her.

'I said it when she was still in pinafores,' thought Mrs. Chevenix; that girl was born to be a peeress.'

CHAPTER IV.

'The company is "mix'd" (the phrase I quote is.
As much as saying, they're below your notice);
For a "mix'd" company implies that, save

Yourself and friends, and half a hundred more,
Whom you may bow to without looking grave,
The rest are but a vulgar set, the bore
Of public places, where they basely brave
The fashionable stare of twenty score

Of well-bred persons, call'd " The World" but I,
Although I know them, really don't know why.'

BITTER, with unutterable bitterness, was the disappointment of aunt Chevenix, when at breakfast next morning she was made acquainted with the actual state of affairs. Lord Paulyn had verily proposed, and had been rejected.

To say that you are mad, Elizabeth, is to say nothing,' exclaimed Mrs. Chevenix, casting herself back in her chair and regarding her niece with a stony gaze, egg-spoon in hand; 'you were that when you accepted Mr. Forde. But this is a besotted idiotcy for which even your previous folly had not prepared me.'