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had recovered of herself, as well as gained over him. She had tasted of the bitterness of death; and now she revelled in one of the wild joys of living' hitherto unknown to her-'sweet revenge' on the man who had held the cup to her lips and so relentlessly pressed it on her.

'Yes. I was pressed for ready money,' he admitted sullenly. 'Well, take up those things and go. Your presence is hateful to me.'

'Then you mean to ruin me?'

'You are ruined, it seems. It is merely a question of your punishment.'

'Does Sir Richard know?' he inquired hoarsely.

'Not yet. Other people know, if you are thinking of murdering me.' His face had indeed an ugly look; but it passed away, and left it only slavish. It is, of course, my duty to tell him. It will agitate him very much. That is the sole consideration, you will understand, that will weigh with me in this matter.'

He nodded his huge head assentingly; he understood her very well. There was never, she meant, in case she spared him, to be the shadow of a reference to the subject of his suspicions of her; they were not to be supposed to influence her conduct by a hair's breadth. The only effect of his entertaining them had been to place him, bound hand and foot, at her mercy.

'You may depend, madam, for the future-if you are so good as to look over what has happened-upon my most faithful service,' he pleaded humbly.

'I do not thank you for that, sir,' she answered coldly. 'Your recognisances are sufficiently heavy to secure your good behaviour.' And in the meantime you will promise me, madam

Nothing,' she interrupted slowly; 'I will make no compact with you of any sort or kind. Stop; upon second thoughts, you may leave the papers. If you receive them again, you may take it for a sign that you are retained in Sir Richard's service, at my pleasure.'

The Agent bowed almost to the ground, and passed out of the room by another door, just as Sir Richard entered it, cigar in mouth, from the library.

What, then you have not brought Morris to book after all, Nannie? Confess now, you have found a mare's nest, and sent him away to escape my gibes.'

'I am by no means satisfied of his rectitude; but there is still a doubt, and for the present, at all events, I am induced to give him the benefit of it.'

Quite right; it is all very well to talk of "making examples" of people, but in the first place one is not perfect one's self; and in the second, I have arrived at that period of life when there seems nothing to be desired so much as peace and quietness.'

CHAPTER XXII.

IN THE BILLIARD-ROOM.

THERE is nothing in social life which is more agreeable to young women than to be admitted into the sanctuaries of the other sex. A dinner at a bachelor's rooms has always more charms for them than the ordinary 'cock and hen' festivities; if there should be any inconvenience as regards space or accommodation, that only adds to 'the fun' of the thing; the sense of sacrilege of penetrating, be it ever so little, into the mysteries of man-is delightful to them. This is what makes the billiardroom of a country house their favourite apartment. They are dimly aware that matters go on there, in their absence, very differently; that when gentlemen are alone, they are much less reserved in their manners; lay wagers, indulge in brandies and soda, and occasionally, when they miss their strokes, even in strong language; that they are not so patient with their partners, and certainly never give them lessons often unnecessarily prolonged-as to holding their cue, or making a bridge; and that the marking-board especially is not a subject for jokes. From this sanctum, chaperons as a general rule are excluded; the bonds of conversation are relaxed; and all goes as merry as a marriage-bell, a metaphor that seems somehow peculiarly appropriate to the situation. Each young gentleman is literally a host in himself, and vies with the others in doing the honours to his visitors.

To both Clara and Lucy billiards had been a joy unknown until the arrival of the Trevors, and it formed one of the chief attractions at the Court to both of them; but it was only Lucy who cared for the game itself. To her sister it was a very secondary object, and it pleased her to take part in it solely on account of the opportunities it afforded her of learning other things. The atmosphere of the place suited Hugh Trevor much better than that of the drawing-room, and in it he unconsciously displayed his true character. This, more or less, is a peculiarity of all games, which should therefore never be despised by those who would be students of human nature. When engaged in serious affairs of any kind-not excluding lovemaking-men have a definite end in view, and mould their behaviour so as to attain it; but at play they are off their guard. If money is concerned, their natures can be read like print; the lust of gain is shameless, and makes no effort at concealment; cunning drops its specious mask, and shows itself in its own paltry guise; the mean advantage, the small trickery, proclaim the rogue in grain, though he may never ripen for the gallows. And even when money is not concerned, there are indica

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tions enough a man, for example, must be an angel indeed who misses his stroke at billiards without a murmur; on the other hand, if the top of his cue comes off, and he remains dumb, the conclusion one rightly draws is still more disadvantageous to him; such unnatural self-command suggests the murderer. From misfortunes of this graver kind Hugh Trevor's skill and prudence preserved him; he was a good player, and, as is the case with most of us in whatever we do well, he took pains to excel.

Charlie was equal to him in execution, but did not look so far ahead. Gurdon was only a moderate performer.

'I will stand and mark,' was his apt quotation as soon as he discovered his inferiority, and that humble position at the scoring-board he had maintained; it afforded him welcome opportunities of observation. The two brothers amused him. They were both good raconteurs; and in their choice of stories, as often happens, their characters could be detected. Hugh had a dry and caustic wit; he delighted in painting the weakness and even the wickedness of his fellow-creatures; he was a fish that loved the mud, and rose to no fancy flies. Charlie was full of high spirits and good-humour, and liked to tickle the heartstrings.

On the morning when Mrs. Thorne called at the Court to speak with Lady Trevor about the invitation from Catesby, she left her daughters at the door of the billiard-room, where their three cavaliers were waiting for them. The two sisters and the two brothers played together as usual, Hugh being partner with Clara, and Charlie with Lucy: a fair arrangement enough; but the former pair were generally beaten through Clara's shortcomings, which Hugh resented not a little. He was a man who always expected to get the better of his fellow-creatures, and, if he failed in doing so, would inquire with frowning brow of the government of the universe how such things could be. On the present occasion there was no necessity for going so far for an explanation. Clara either failed in carrying out his instructions, or missed her stroke altogether. There is a story told of an old Scotch Lord of Session, who, playing with a lady at whist, suddenly exclaimed: What a d-d old fool you are!' Immediately afterwards he apologized, explaining that for the moment he had mistaken her for his wife.

Hugh looked at Clara, when she made a mess of the game, as the Lord of Session must have looked. His lips moved, and, though they said nothing, one could easily guess what sort of words they were shaping. Clara herself, however, seemed utterly unconscious that anything of the kind was taking place. Whether she struck her ball too high or too low, or on the wrong side, she never seemed aware of failures. What is

wanting in effect,' she seemed to be saying to herself confidently, is more than compensated for by the grace and dignity of my movements.' If she had once acknowledged herself in the wrong, she felt that Hugh would not have spared her; if she had said, as girls do under the like circumstances, 'How stupid I am!' she knew that, far from combating the remark, he would have corroborated it; and she never gave him the opportunity. Sometimes a cloud crossed his face-caused less by her blunders than her studied indifference to them-only too full of meaning; like the scowl the 'navvy' bestows upon his old woman' before company, a 'wait-till-I-get-you-home' look, that makes the lady shiver. But Clara Thorne did not shiver, though she partly comprehended its meaning. The two young people were by this time on very confidential terms; it was not remarked by the other couple, who were very literally otherwise engaged, but Gurdon, the observant, had said to himself more than once, Those two understand one another;' and at all events one of them understood the other. It could hardly be said that the more she saw of him the more she liked him, but her knowledge of him in no respect weakened her resolve. She had scratched her Russian, and found him a Tartar; but the discovery had not alarmed her; she only said to herself, 'I must tame the Tartar.'

The first words she had said to him that morning, as they were selecting their cues, were:

'So you have got your way'-an allusion to the invitation from Catesby Hall.

'I generally do,' had been his grim response.

'You remind me,' she answered, smiling, 'of Mr. Barry Lyndon.'

Who was he?' he answered surlily; he felt an uneasy consciousness that he ought to know.

'An Irish gentleman who flattered himself he could break any woman's heart in a week,'

He grinned as if she had paid him a compliment; it pleased him to think that he could win her heart without giving himself the trouble of pretending to be soft and tender; but this consciousness only made her indifference to his approval more irritating. If she were willing to take him without warranty, as it were, why did she not show more subservience to his whims and fancies? She had never paid less attention to his teaching at billiards than that morning, and her disobedience, as he called it in his own mind, had caused him to lose three consecutive games. At the conclusion of the last, he put away his cue, and declined to play any more.

'Come, Gurdon, will you play?' inquired Charles, with a certain significant inflection in his tone, that could not have been mis

taken by much duller ears than those which heard it. It seemed to say, You are not given to the sulks, at all events.' But before the painter could reply, Clara, who, though reserving to herself the right of rebellion, would strike in for her tyrant when he was attacked by others, had pretended she was tired, so they all took their seats about the fire-which was always lighted when the day was wet-and began to chatter. The rain reminded Charlie of his last wet day in London, on which a humorous incident had taken place.

He had been dragged to a great marriage, where five hundred people had snatched a meal which had looked like a ball supper, but was called 'breakfast,' and were all yearning to get away; they had overflowed from the crowded house under a long awning through which the wet dripped, waiting for their fine carriages; a fat woman stood upon his toe, giving him pain that would have been intolerable but for his belief (subsequently shown to be unfounded) that she was a duchess. The inconveniences endured by this fashionable mob in their pursuit of pleasure, their selfishness and brutality to one another, he described with the more gusto since he saw it displeased his brother. Suddenly a splendid footman attached to the establishment called for a fourwheeled cab. Everybody looked at one another aghast. It was only the least distinguished of the guests who had ventured to come in even what the Americans call 'one-horse affairs,' something drawn by a single quadruped, but still their own. The very horses, champing their bits, seemed to throw up their noses in scorn at the summons in their midst of such a vehicle. Presently, however it emerged from the sea of chariots, and drove up to the door, a sorry spectacle indeed. The driver had a pipe in his mouth, and a patch over his eye; the window was broken, and mended with brown paper; it was the most debauched-looking 'growler' that ever was seen; that it should delay for a moment the advent of a respectable carriage seemed an inversion of the laws of Nature. But not a laugh was heard ; a sense of humour is not what fashionable folks most pride themselves upon. On the contrary, there was 'the hushed amaze of hand and eye' at the prospect of seeing the person who had evoked this terrible conveyance get into it. The four-wheeled cab!' exclaimed the footman, in stentorian tones. There was no response; the individual who had ordered it, like the student who raised the devil, shrank from the enterprise he had so rashly entered upon. He had not bargained for a cab like that. Three times did the frenzied footman repeat his challenge, while the driver smoked on unmoved, regarding the brilliant throng like Barbarism looking down on Civilization; but the glove lay where it fell, and eventually the four-wheeled cab was sent away.