the chops and the asparagus, and looking also at his watch," perhaps you will be good enough to say it."

66

Any thing to say! Yes, Sir 'Oo, I have something to say. It is a pity you will not sit at your dinner."

"I will not sit at my dinner till you have left me. So now, if you will be pleased to proceed

"I will proceed. Perhaps you don't know that Lord Ongar died in these arms." And Sophie, as she spoke, stretched out her skinny hands, and put herself as far as possible into the attitude in which it would be most convenient to nurse the head of a dying man upon her bosom. Sir Hugh, thinking to himself that Lord Ongar could hardly have received much consolation in his fate from this incident, declared that he had not heard the fact before. “No, you have not heard it. She have tell nothing to her friends here. He die abroad, and she has come back with all the money; but she tell nothing to anybody here, so I must tell."

"But I don't care how he died, Madame Gordeloup. It is nothing to me."

"But yes, Sir 'Oo. The lady, your wife, is the sister to Lady Ongar. Is not that so? Lady Ongar did live with you before she was married. Is not that so? Your brother and your cousin both wishes to marry her and have all the money. Is not that so? Your brother has come to me to help him, and has sent the little man out of Warwickshire. Is not that so?"

"What the d- is all that to me?" said Sir Hugh, who did not quite understand the story as the lady was telling it.

"I will explain, Sir 'Oo, what the d- it is to you, only I wish you were eating the nice things on the table. This Lady Ongar is treating me very bad. She treat my brother very bad too. My brother is Count Pateroff. We have been put to, oh, such expenses for her! It have nearly ruined me. I make a journey to your London here altogether for her. Then, for her, I go down to that accursed little island what you call it? where she insult me. Oh! all my time is gone. Your brother and your cousin, and the little man out of Warwickshire, all coming to my house, just as it please them."

here, Madame Gordeloup, you had bettter go away.”

"Not yet, Sir 'Oo, not yet. You are going away to Norway I know; and I am ruined before you come back."

-

"Look here, madam, do you mean that you want money from me?"

"I want my rights, Sir 'Oo. Remember, I know every thing every thing-ob, such things! If they were all known - in the newspapers, you understand, or that kind of thing, that lady in Bolton Street would lose all her money to-morrow. Yes. There is uncles to the little lord; yes! Ah! how much would they give me, I wonder? They would not tell me to go away."

Sophie was perhaps justified in the estimate she had made of Sir Hugh's probable character from the knowledge which she had acquired of his brother Archie; but, nevertheless, she had fallen into a great mistake. There could hardly have been a man then in London less likely to fall into her present views than Sir Hugh Clavering. Not only was he too fond of his money to give it away without knowing why he did so, but he was subject to none of that weakness by which some men are prompted to submit to such extortions. Had he believed her story, and had Lady Ongar been really dear to him, he would never have dealt with such a one as Madame Gordeloup otherwise than through the police. "Madame Gordeloup," said he, if you don't immediately take yourself off, I shall have you put out of the house."

He would have sent for a constable at once, had he not feared that by doing so, he would retard his journey.

"What!" said Sophie, whose courage was as good as his own. "Me put out of the house! Who shall touch me?"

My servant shall; or if that will not do, the police. Come, walk." And he stepped over toward her as though he himself intended to assist in her expulsion by violence.

"But what is this to me?" shouted Sir Hugh.

-

These come with joyous look and word,

With friendly grasp and cheerful greeting-
Those smile unseen, and move unheard,
The angel guests of every meeting;
They cast no shadow in the flame

That flushes from the gilded lustre,
But count us - we are still the same;
One earthly band, one heavenly cluster!

Love dies not when he bows his head

To pass beyond the narrow portalsThe light these glowing moments shed Wakes from their sleep our lost immortals; They come as in their joyous prime,

Before their morning days were numbered Death stays the envious hand of Time — The eyes have not grown dim that slumbered!

The paths that loving souls have trod

Arch o'er the dust where worldlings grovel High as the zenith o'er the sod

The cross above the sexton's shovel!
We rise beyond the realms of day;
They seem to stoop from spheres of glory
With us one happy hour to stray,

While youth comes back in song and story.

Ah! ours is friendship true as steel

That war has tried in edge and temper; It writes upon its sacred seal

The priest's ubique — omnes—semper ! It lends the sky a fairer sun

That cheers our lives with rays as steady

As if our footsteps had begun

To print the golden streets already!

The tangling years have clenched its knot
Too fast for mortal strength to sunder —
The lightning bolts of noon are shot -
No fear of evening's idle thunder!
Too late! too late!—no graceless hand
Shall stretch its cords in vain endeavor
To rive the close encircling band

That made and keeps us one forever!

So when upon the fatal scroll

The falling stars have all descended,
And, blotted from the breathing roll,
Our little page of life is ended,
We ask but one memorial line

Traced on thy tablet, Gracious Mother:
"My children. Boys of 'twenty-nine.
In pace. How they loved each other!"
-Atlantic Monthly.

THE MEDICAL WARBLER.

ILL is the wind good that no one doth blow,
Taking mankind altogether.

Hail to that wind which blows hard frost and snow,

Medico-surgical weather!

Prospects of many a bill and a fee,

Suscitate pleasing reflections;

Ills blown to others are good blown to me,
Namely, thoracic affections;

Air-tubes, disorders of, also; catarrh, Cough, influenza, bronchitis. Peripneumonia's gainful: so are Phthisis, dyspnoea, pleuritis. Numerous patients, moreover, accrue, Just now, from those inflammations, Which, a peculiar diathesis through, Seize on the articulations,

Nerves, muscles, tendons; rheumatic attacks,
Cases, no end, of lumbago,

And of the hip that sciatica racks:
Down in my visit-book they go.
Oft with a good dislocation I meet,

Oft with good fractures, from tumbles
Caused by the slides on the slippery street:
Thanks to the boys and the Bumbles.

"Who-I?" said Doodles, electrified. "It is only just round the corner," said Archie.

"Yes, Captain Boodle, we will go," said Sophie. "This is a bad house; and your Sir 'Oo-I do not like him at all. Lockup, indeed! I tell you he shall very soon be locked up himself. There is what you call Davy's locker. I know-yes."

Doodles also trembled when he heard this anathema, and thought once more of the character of Jack Stuart and his acht.

66

Pray go with her," said Archie. "But I had come to see you off." "Never mind," said Archie. "He is in such a taking, you know. God bless you, old fellow-good-by! I'll write and tell you what fish we get, and mind you tell me what Turriper does for the Bedfordshire. Good-by, Madame Gordeloup; good-by."

arm

There was no escape for him, so Doodles put on his hat and prepared to walk away to Mount Street with the Spy under his the Spy as to whose avocations, over and beyond those of her diplomatic profession, he had such strong suspicions! He felt inclined to be angry with his friend, but the circumstances of his parting hardly admitted of any expression of anger.

"Good-by, Clavvy," he said."Yes, I'll write- that is, if I've got anything to say." "Take care of yourself, captain," said Sophie.

"All right," said Archie.

"Mind you come and see me when you come back," said Sophie.

"Of course I will," said Archie.

"And we'll make that all right for you yet. Gentlemen, when they have so much to gain, shouldn't take a no too easy. You come with your handy glove, and we'll see about it again." Then Sophie walked off leaning upon the arm of Captain Boodle, and Archie stood at the door watching them till they turned out of sight round the corner of the Square. At last he saw them no more, and then he returned to his brother.

And as we shall see Doodles no more or almost no more- we will now bid him adieu civilly. The pair were not ill-matched, though the lady perhaps had some advantage in acuteness, given to her no doubt by the experience of a longer life. Doodles, as he walked along two sides of the square with the fair burden on his arm, felt himself to be in some sort proud of his position, though it was one from which he would not have been sorry to escape, had escape been possible. A remarkable phenomenon was the Spy, and to have walked

round Berkeley Square with such a woman leaning on his arm might in coming years be an event to remember with satisfaction. In the mean time he did not say much to her, and did not quite understand all that she said to him. At last he came to the door which he well remembered, and then he paused. He did not escape even then. After a while the door was opened, and those who were passing might have seen Captain Boodle, slowly and with hesitating steps, enter the narrow passage before the lady. Then Sophie followed, and closed the door behind her. As far as this story goes, what took place at that interview cannot be known. Let us bid farewell to Doodles, and wish him a happy escape.

"How did you come to know that woman?" said Hugh to his brother, as soon as Archie was in the dining-room.

"She was a friend of Julia's," said Archie. "You haven't given her money?" Hugh asked.

"Oh dear, no," said Archie.

Immediately after that they got into their cab, the things were pitched on the top, and, for a while, we may bid adieu to them also.

CHAPTER XL.

SHOWING HOW MRS. BURTON FOUGHT HER

BATTLE.

"FLORENCE, I have been to Bolton Street, and I have seen Lady Ongar." Those were the first words which Cecilia Burton spoke to her sister-in-law, when she found Florence in the drawing-room on her return from the visit which she had made to the countess. Forence had still before her the desk on which she had been writing; and the letterin its envelope, addressed to Mrs. Clavering, but as yet unclosed, was lying beneath her blotting-paper. Florence, who had never dreamed of such an undertaking on Cecilia's part, was astounded at the tidings which she heard. Of course her first effort was made to learn from her sister's tone and countenance what had been the result of this interview; but she could learn nothing from either. There was no radiance as of joy in Mrs. Burton's face, nor was there written there any thing of despair. Her voice was serious and almost solemn, and her manner was very grave, but that was all. You have seen her?" said Florence, rising up from her chair.

"Yes, dear, I may have done wrong. Theodore, I know, will say so. But I