soon entered with interest into the conversation, whereupon her neighbour dropped Mr. Evans precisely as she had dropped her knitting, and the two had it all to themselves. Mrs. Emsley knew Rome as well as an Oxford man knows the High-street. She had been in Paris, Viennahalf-over Europe, in fact-as travelling governess in Lord Cairngorm's family, though she did not think it necessary to say so. The conversation ranged from the cities to their galleries; from art to music and poetry; till little Marian at the card-table put Miss Pomfret sorely out by a revoke, in her wonder that there should be so many fine things to talk of, and her despair of ever learning half enough to please Mr. Madden. Both he and Mrs. Emsley talked well: the lady not too well. She possessed the great art of making her interlocutor thoroughly self-satisfied by deferring to his opinions on most subjects instead of propounding her own, and leading him to believe that she thought him "more wise, more learned, more everything" than herself. Can there be a more dangerous compliment than this from a really clever woman? No doubt it is wisely ordained that so very few of them should know how to pay it.

That night, when he went to his room, Mr. Madden stood moodily over his fire, like a man with a headache after champagne; he could not forget the air with which Mrs. Emsley had scanned Marian; it just showed him what a poor bit of glass the world would count his jewel. Oh, shame upon him, that he should ever look through the world's eyes on a creature never made to bear so false a light; and Marian had been too forward with her good-night, he thought; the stranger must have guessed at the relation between him and Mrs. Deane's daughter. Mrs. Emsley guessed nothing of the sort; at that moment she was making a pleased little mow at her reflection in the glass, as she took off her ribbons, and saying to herself" Really a very pleasing man to meet, in such a stupid place. Well, I don't think I shall be so very dull here, after all."

That first evening Mrs. Emsley had worn a brown silk, plain and high; the next she appeared to great advantage in what I believe the ladies call demi-toilette; a roll of scarlet and gold twisted into her dark hair, something scarlet and gold to match, floating over her black dress, and half displaying such fine arms, and such sloping shoulders, that Mary and Annette Evans, with shoulders somewhat square, and elbows of a make extremely useful to their owners in a crowd, found much relief in discussing with Miss Pomfret, the absurdity of such over-dress. But Mr. Madden, who had his full share of the vanity common to us all, felt flattered as the lady drew in her skirts to make room for him on the sofa. Why, everything about her, the bracelets on her arm, even the perfume of her handkerchief, said plainly enough that she had found some one worth dressing for, in the boarding-house. Mrs. Emsley was paying Mr. Madden, after her own fashion, the same com

pliment Marian had unconsciously paid him, when, from the first, she could be a different Marian to him than to all the world beside. Let no one misjudge Captain Emsley's wife, nor impute her conduct to any motive but vanity prepense. It was just that, and nothing more. She wanted some amusement while she stayed, and found it in making herself particularly agreeable to Mr. Madden. She never talked to anybody else; and then, that was scandalous, Miss Pomfret said, the two mostly spoke French together. Miss Pomfret nearly split her ears, trying to catch a sentence here and there; and not being able, made up her mind that it was very wrong. She was mistaken; not a word passed in French which might not have been said before the whole room in plain English, even including that little bit of sentimentalism about elective affinities, which the lady contrived to edge in cleverly enough. There were many points of contact between her and Mr. Madden; but they differed in this: Mrs. Emsley never knew a better impulse; one of" our daily world's true worldlings," cold, heartless, vain, and, under the glitter of accomplishments and phrases learned by rote, as common-place and as common-minded as Mrs. Deane herself.

Well, Captain and Mrs. Emsley left at the fortnight's end. Not at all was she sorry to go; she had begun to tire of Carbrook-street, in spite of that "harmless flirtation," as she would have phrased it. Yes, harmless enough! I wonder how much mischief is every day done in the world by things that have no harm at all in them. Perhaps-though I am by no means sure about it-even Mrs. Emsley's gratified vanity might not have smothered uncomfortable feeling, could she have ever known all the consequences of this " harmless flirtation."

I have said nothing of her husband; he was too completely a lay figure to claim a place in my picture. A heavy middle-aged man, with a large white face and stony eyes, who seldom spoke, and was constantly falling asleep in his chair by the fire. Though Captain Emsley did not seem much of an invalid, his country doctor had sent him up to London for Dr. Watson's advice; and, a few days after leaving, Mrs. Emsley wrote to beg that a prescription, which had been forgotten on their dressing-table, might be forwarded.

"What a beautiful hand she writes," remarked Miss Pomfret, as she looked over the note. "I wonder she isn't uneasy about the Captain. My father was a surgeon; and I've beard him say that always going to sleep is a very bad sign."

66

Captain Emsley will sleep sound enough before long," said Mrs. Deane, coarsely; "mark my words, his wife will be a widow before six months are out, and-"

66

Ay, and married again by the end of the next six months," interrupted Miss Pomfret.

What was there in this idle gossip to make Mr. Madden start? He could not have told you himself, any more than Marian could have

week in autumn there was just a unit added to the registrar-general's report, and all was over. She left no message, she gave no sign; her death was as silent as her love. All the house regretted Marian, and Mrs. Deane mourned so sincerely that she hardly knew how comfortable that prospect of five hundred pounds to add to her savings was, in the midst of her affliction.

Meantime, how had it fared with Mr. Madden? On leaving Carbrook-street he had fully intended to write; after all, a letter would be less painful to both than an interview. But he found this letter neither pleasant nor easy to write, and put it off from day to day till he came to think Marian would forget him more easily if he never wrote at all. Then came his cousin's death; and in the hurry of business and excitement which followed, it was by no means difficult to forget her altogether. And no sooner was he fairly installed into the property than he left England for Geneva, where Mrs. Emsley was spending her first months of widowhood, to whom, after a decent interval, the new Mr. Carysford offered his hand and fortune. Mr. Madden, of the boarding-house, would have been summarily refused; but Mr. Madden Carysford, of Carysford Park, a different person altogether -a very good match-quite as good a match as she could expect to make, though the poor dear captain had left her so handsomely provided for-decided the lady, as she folded up the letter which asked the question. Still, from the very day on which she had donned her weeds, Julia Emsley had determined not to be in too great a hurry about her second marriage. This was an excellent offer, but a better party than even Mr. Carysford might present himself. How admirably the widow played her part in that touching interview with her admirer! She sighed—the sigh melancholy-over her black dress, as she said her mourning was too recent at present for her to entertain Mr. Carysford's proposals; but, if he would consider himself her friend till the first year had passed, why then&c., &c., and &c.—into no better English can I render the blush and the sigh-this time the sigh

tender-with which the conversation ended.

A very clever woman indeed was Julia Emsley, and she proved it by keeping her admirer in a fool's paradise for months; indeed, until a rival appeared, in the person of a wealthy baronet, whom she accepted without the slightest hesitation. Then Mr. Carysford found out for the first time that he had not a single promise, written or verbal, he could bring forward against her. Nobody likes to be jilted; and I think the older we grow, the less we like it. Mr. Carysford, like other men on such an occasion, found some unpleasant things to say in his wrathworldly! cruel! false! such words he had for Mrs. Emsley. "Worldly! cruel! false!" No wonder his conscience echoed them back to

him! By the wrong from which he was suffering he learnt to measure that he had dealt to another, till the sense of his own broken faith haunted him day and night; and then he dwelt, with a softened fancy, on Marian's love, with its simple earnestness, its entire devotion, and wondered that ever he could have been false to her.

And so Mr. Carysford gave himself up to the reaction which, under the circumstances, was certain to come upon a temperament like his. He hated himself for the months of suffering he had caused her. He pictured her going through them with a sweet and patient silence, waiting, hoping still that he might come back, and always ready to forgive him. Ay, and at once he would claim her forgiveness; all his future life should be an atonement for his fault; she should have wealth, happiness, everything his love could give. Full of these thoughts and hopes, Mr. Carysford was hurrying back to England, when, in a Paris café, the parade of inexpressible grief" and "sufferings borne with Christian fortitude," which Mrs. Deane had inserted in the Times, caught his eye. Very slowly the reader spelt it over as if he could not get at the meaning of the words, though every one of them seemed to be burning itself into his brain. He sat there long, the voices and bustle round coming to him as sounds come to a man buried in a well, the paper still before him, till others grew impatient for it, and a garçon took it out of his hand. Ah, in all the slow despair which had sapped that young life there was no agony like the remorse which threw him on a sick bed, which hastened on the calamity which he had dreaded!

The party at No. 2, Carbrook-street, remains The Evanses are still very nearly the same. there; they have not yet got over the difficulty of finding a house in London. Mr. Madden's old sofa corner is more than filled by a stout German, who plays what he calls " de robber" every evening with Miss Pomfret. Last night, when they had finished their game, by some chance the conversation turned on its former occupant. Mrs. Deane looked up her sixpences, she had been a winner.

"Ah!" she said, "I wonder we never hear anything of Mr. Madden - Mr. Carysford I mean. Let me see, he left two years back, just when my poor girl caught that cold. I should like to see Mr. Carysford again, and wish him Bless me, what luck joy of his fine estates.

some folks have in the world!"

And so let us leave our acquaintances in Carbrook-street to discuss the good fortune of the man who, blind, restless, and solitary, wanders through Europe only that he may keep the sea between himself and that grave.

C. W.

It is made in squares, of which each is joined to those already done, in working the last round. 8 ch. Close into a round.

1st. x 6 ch, sc under ch, x 4 times. The directions are to be worked four times for every round.

2nd. 6 ch, 4 s c under chain.

3rd. 6 ch, 7 sc (4 under ch, 3 on first 3 of 4, inserting the hook always under both sides of the stitch). In future rounds, the first 4 s c are always to be under the ch.

4th. 6 chain, 9 s c. 5th. 6 ch, 12 sc.

6th. 6 ch, 15 8 c.

7th. 6 ch, 18 sc. 8th. 6 ch, 21 s c.

9th. 5 ch, 1 sc under chain of 6, picot, 6 ch,

20 s c over 21.

10th. 5 ch, 1 sc under loop, picot, 5 ch, 1 s c under next loop, picot, 6 ch, 18 s c on 20.

11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th rounds the same style, there being in each one loop of 5 chains more than in the preceding, and 2 s c stitches less, so that there are 10 only in the last.

15th. 6 ch, 1 sc under a loop, picot; x 5 ch, sc under loop, picot, x 6 times; 6 ch, 6 s c over 10, omitting the first 1 and the last 3.

16th. 6 ch, 1 sc under loop, picot, x 5 ch, sc under loop, picot; x 7 times. 3 s con 6, omitting first and two last stiches.

17th. 6 ch, 1 sc under loop, picot; x 5 ch, sc under loop, picot; x 8 times; 1 s con centre of 3.

This finishes one square. The second is to be joined to the first by the first four loops of the first quarter, and the last four loops of the fourth; the third piece, being united to the first at another side in the same way, and the fourth to the second and third, the loops by which they tre. Successive squares to be joined to correare not joined will form a diamond in the censpond.

This pattern would be pretty also for an antimacassar; but, being very light, would be improved by a bead border, finished with fringe. It would also look well in wool, or in crochet twine, for a cushion.

AIGUILLETTE.