most conventional cloak for dislike is an unswerving civility, and an overstrain of politeness, she showed pretty plainly what she felt. Intimacy with Colonel Kennedy meant familiarity, and at every advance he made, Maud drew further and further back into her shell.

Julian told her "it was no use to ride the high horse with Kennedy, she must take him as she found him, he meant no harm, it was only manner, &c. &c." but secretly he was delighted to see Maud could hold her own, and stand upon her womanly dignity.

It was on this sort of occasion that Mrs. Murray's conduct was most irritating to Maud. She did not mind her exactions on her own account, but it was galling in the extreme to be bid to add sugar and cream to the coffee, Colonel Kennedy could very well pour out for himself, or to be sent into the garden to gather a rose or geranium for his coat. She obeyed-she would have thought herself equally degraded either by contention or refusal— but it was with the proud air of an unwilling slave; she never addressed him, never would condescend to accept at his hands any of those small courtesies, which man ordinarily pays to woman.

He, on his part, admired her none the less, that

on these occasions she treated him with a quiet superciliousness very like scorn, and kept him at such a distance, that neither, by word or look, did he dare express an atom of the sympathy he really felt in her annoyance.

It was quite a relief to her when he was hastily summoned to attend the death-bed of a relation, and Bankside was free for a time from his repeated and reiterated visits.

66

CHAPTER XIX.

A time, when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light;

The glory and the freshness of a dream!"

WORDSWORTH.

"E'en Providence itself conspires

With man and nature against love,
As pleased to couple cross desires,

And cross where they themselves approve."

The Angel in the House.

AUD," said Julian, one glorious July evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Murray had just set out to dine some eight miles off with a Dowager of quality,

"Maud, why should we not take a quiet drive, and, like our great progenitors, enjoy the cool of the evening?"

"I do not think there is time to-night," rejoined Maud, who was not good at feigned excuses.

"How long do you want to be out? it is barely

six yet, and if we drive till eight, I think I shall have made a good beginning."

"But, Julian, you are not strong enough to drive; really you are not," urged Maud, with a frightened face.

"I am not going in the phaeton, so you need not look so scared. Besides, you may set your

mind at ease, the four-footed individual who helped me to my broken head expiated his offence with his life, and his accomplice was sold at Tattersall's, without my consent or connivance, while I lay sick in my bed. I may thank Kennedy for that."

"It's the best thing I ever heard of his doing," laughed Maud.

"I believe you," retorted Julian, "the more so, as I have a strong conviction that the Colonel bought him himself, and has got him hid up somewhere, thinking I shall not recognize him when he brings him out as a new purchase, clipped, or with a hog mane and tail. It's a hard case, Maud; here have I lost a hundred and fifty pounds by that transaction—a costly price for a week's work-been bled and leeched within an inch of my life, and into the bargain have to make it square with old White for medicine and attendance."

"He deserves anything," was the warm response;

"he kept you alive when I had quite begun to despair."

"He had a capital coadjutor, and one, too, who does not threaten me with going into a consumption on the smallest indiscretion. But come! you have done tea this quarter of an hour, Maud; run up-stairs, and put on that knowing straw hat.” "But my bonnet is best for the brougham." "The brougham! what are you dreaming of? I'm not come to that yet; do as I bid you, and then, perhaps, you will be rewarded by the sight of Cinderella's coach."

The grey hat with its long feather, which had unaccountably appeared in Maud's room one morning, after Percival had indulged in twenty-four hours' leave of absence, was soon put on, and by the time she made her appearance, Julian was standing switching his whip upon the doorstep, looking curiously down the coach-road.

"It's my belief," said he, eyeing her complacently," that Kennedy must have sent that hat, as a trifling token of esteem upon his departure; he always knows what fine ladies' fashions are."

"If I thought so I should never wear it," was the indignant answer.

"Don't quarrel with your bread and butter,