only a thin deceitful coating of ice, and down you go, hopes, dreams, and all, the moment you venture on it. It must be an awful experience.' 'Don't speak in parables, Frank.'

'Her position is a paradox; she rules and obeys. In the large concerns of life she likes to be led ; in the small, she likes to lead-and will cry when she does not have her way. I think she is wanting in

say you'll forgive me for it.'

Flo's voice trembled as she replied, 'I can't promise forgiveness until I know your fault.'

'Is speaking plainly a fault?'
'That depends.'

'I think I will wind about-like the serpent. This is a beautiful apple, Flo.'

'I am glad you like it.'

'I am a connoisseur in apples. Though they be fair to the eye, as many false things are, they cannot deceive me; I can tell at a glance if they are likely to be rotten in side. The fair skin of an apple, Flo-see how this blushes-is occasionally deceptive, and hides a heart of dust.'

'No; in one of my happiest I think to-day is one of the loveliest we have had this year.'

'My birthday, Frank.'

'That is the reason. It would be a thousand pities if a dark cloud should mar its beauty.'

'I trust there will be no dark cloud. I see no signs of one. Frank, I want to come down; you are in my way.'

'You are my prisoner, and I can't make up my mind to release you for a little while.'

'Very well, sir,' said Flo demurely, sitting on a lower rung of the ladder, 'submission is the lot of a woman.'

in his; he raised it to his lips, and kissed it. 'I love you, Flo. Are you content ?'

'Yes,' she whispered.

Frank turned suddenly from her; he was a man of deep feeling, and his heart was full. But often, on serious occasions, his moods were April moods; first a tear, then a smile.

'Have a bite,' he asked, holding out the apple to her.

She bit into it with a will. 'I like sweet things,' she said. 'So do I,' he rejoined, with his arm round her waist.

'Take care, Frank. A heart of dust.'

'A heart of-no, not of gold, of

My heart!'

'I never thought,' she said, with a pretty wilfulness, 'that you were self-conceited.'

He laughed a gay laugh.

'I have grown vain suddenly,

now. I never had before.'

'What reason, sir? You stop my breath, Frank! Upon my word! Is that the way you answer questions ?'

It was by no means a wonderful coincidence-although they would have considered it so, had they been aware of it-that at the precise time Flo and Frank were settling affairs, Mrs. Goldfinch and Miss Period should have been talking of them in the light of lovers.

'It is the proper thing for a man to do; the moment he sees an opportunity, he should settle down comfortably.' Thus spoke Miss Period, with the authority of a woman of large family experience instead of that of an old maid.

'I quite agree with you,' said Mrs. Goldfinch.

'It fixes his mind; it prevents it from wandering. If he has a career,' said Miss Period, speaking of a man as if he were a wheelbarrow, 'his wife pushes him on. He can't pass his days in smoking and doing nothing. No clubs, no public houses, no two o'clock in the morning; regular meals and an easy conscience. What is he sent into the world for? It is his duty to marry, and settle down comfortably.'

'It is certainly the best thing for a man,' said Mrs. Goldfinch. 'A

happy married life is the sweetest blessing that can fall to his lot, and to the woman who shares it with him. I have enjoyed such a blessing, and am grateful for it.' Miss Period sighed. 'Of course, my dear Miss Period, there must be love on both sides.'

'Of course; true love. There is Frank, now; why doesn't he settle? He is a good son, and a good son is sure to make a good husband.'

'He is the best son in the world, and I am the happiest mother.'

'Marriage is good for a girl, too; it is what she looks forward to, and after a certain age, the sooner the better. There's Flo, twenty today; getting on, my dear. Flo's disposition is very sweet. I dote on her. She has her faults; we all have. I had when I was a girl, but time works wonders. There is nothing in the world so base as a man playing with a young girl's feelings.'

Somewhat warmly, Mrs. Goldfinch exclaimed, 'That is the last thing in the world my Frank would do!'

'You do not suppose I had Frank in my mind when I made

the remark! Ah, no! I was thinking-'

The good creature paused. It may be that at one time of her life she had suffered from such baseness; and even if the reflection were fancy-bred, it was harmless, and might well be excused, as affording her a sentimental consolation for being an old maid.

'No, my dear Mrs. Goldfinch,' she resumed, 'Frank at that moment was the last man in my mind. If he had not been, do you think I would leave him and my darling Flo so much together? I cannot tell you how I love her; we are like sisters to each other, and when she is from home, the Hall is scarcely bearable. But it is natural for changes to come. Why doesn't he speak to her? I've no patience with the men !'

'The difference in their positions,' murmured Mrs. Goldfinch sadly, for she knew how Frank's heart went out to the girl.

'Fiddle!' exclaimed Miss Period.

Is that your candid opinion?' inquired Mrs. Goldfinch, in a tone of deep anxiety.

'It is. Fiddle! If it had been my happy lot to be born a man— which is,' said Miss Period, suddenly breaking off, and looking at her companion for confirmation, 'what every woman would like to be, I believe?'

'When I was a girl,' said Mrs. Goldfinch, with a smile, 'I said more than once that I wish I had been a man, but I am not sure whether I really meant it.'

'Nonsense!' exclaimed Miss Period, in a very decided tone; 'you did mean it! Every woman

says it, and every woman means it. The moment a woman begins to understand the world, that very moment, my dear, she wishes she had been born a man. And very natural. A man is a free agent. A woman is a slave. A man can go here and there. Can a woman? A man can do as he likes can go out when he likes, can come home when he likes. Can a woman? A man can marry or keep single. Can a woman? No, no, my dear, the men have the best of it. Therefore I say, if it had been my happy lot to be born a man, and I loved-say the Queen of England, I should consider it my duty to pay her a morning visit, and say, "Queen, I love you!" or words to that effect. The Queen might refuse me; she might say, "I am surprised; let the subject be dropped," but she would not be angry with me. She might make me an earl, and say, "There! that is all I can do for you." My dear, no woman is angry when a man tells her he loves her; it is a compliment which she appreciates; it is a delicate way of informing her that she is beautiful, or estimable, or an ornament to her sex, or all three put together. Take my brother-in-law, Sir Judah; would any woman be angry if he laid his hand and heart at her feet? Would I? Although such an occurrence is impossible, because of that wicked prohibition concerning deceased wives' sisters. Would you? Certainly not.'

'Sir Judah,' Mrs. Goldfinch ventured to remark, 'is too old to marry again.'

'Not at all. A man is never

too old to marry. It was only in yesterday's Times that Lord Slender, whose age is stated to be seventy-six, led to the altar a blooming young creature of nineteen.'

'Both the lord and the lady,' said Mrs. Goldfinch indignantly, 'ought to have been heartily ashamed of themselves. I regard such a marriage as monstrous.'

My sentiments exactly. Lord Slender should have married a lady more nearly of his own age. But it proves that if a man has wealth and position, he can find a thou

sand of our weak foolish sex ready to fall into his arms.'

'You do not approve of lovematches, then ?'

'I do. I dote on them. They are the sweetest things in existence. You interrupted me; I had not quite finished. When a man loves, nothing need stop him. If he have not wealth, he may have reputation; if he have not reputation, he may have youth. Now let us look at Frank and Flo. They both have youth-they are equal there. Frank has a reputation, Flo will have money-they are equal there. I

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