would not allow me to go, and said she would not take it now, since the woman had refused it."

"And how did you propose to overcome Mrs. Phillips's obstinacy?" asked Tita, who seemed possessed by a fear that sooner or later the predatory instincts of this Uhlan would get us into trouble.

"Oh, I do not know, but I should have got it some way," said the Lieutenant; and with that he held out a small book he had in his hand. "See! I have made more discoveries this morning. Here is a note-book I have found, of a young lady at school, who has been staying, perhaps, at this house; and it has given me much amusement-oh, very much amusement, and instruction also. It is just the same as if I had been in the school with her, and she has told me all about her teachers, and the other girls, and all that. Shall I read some to you?"

"Now is it fair," said Bell, "to peep into a young lady's secrets like that?"

"But I have done so already," replied Von Rosen, coolly. "I have read it all-and now I will tell you some of it. First, there are addresses of friends-that is nothing. Then there are stitches of knitting—that is nothing, only the young lady seems correct and methodist-no, methodical, I should say. Then there are notes of lectures, and very much good information in them, oh, very good indeed-I am not surprised your English young ladies know very much. Let me see: Epic poetry we like, because they treat of great men and great actions. "Paradise Lost" admired for its noble language. Milton a Puritan. England receives solidity of character from the Puritans. Dryden and Byron are not read, although very great. Byron hated his own race-is not a good poet to read.' This is very good instruction; but she hastens now to put down something about two other girls, who were perhaps at the lecture. She says: Shocking, impertinent, ill-bred creatures; my spirit recoils from them.' Then there is a question addressed to her neighbour:

Do you see how Miss Williams has got her hair done?'"

Here Queen Titania protested against these revelations, and would have held out her hand for the book; but the Lieutenant only stepped back a few inches from the window, and said, seriously

"There is much better information to come. Here she puts down in order the phrases which one of the masters has used to her class-polite phrases, she says, to use to ladies. 1. You degrade yourselves. 2. How much more kitchen-maidism? 3. Simply offensive. 4. It shows how you have been brought up. 5. I will put a stop to this impertinence. 6. Silence, ladies! 7. Pretty conduct! I am afraid he has had an unruly class. Then the young lady has a little piece of composition which I think is the beginning of a novel. She says: The summit of Camberwell Grove, which forms part of the lordly elevation known as Denmark Hill, is one of the most charming and secluded retreats around the great metropolis. Here, in the spring-time, groves of lindens put forth their joyous leaves, and birds of various colours flit through the branches, singing hymns of praise. On the one side, the dreary city dwells behind an enchanted veil of trees; on the other, you pass into emerald fields, which stretch onwards to the Arabian magnificence of the Crystal Palace. In this lofty and picturesque spot, Lord Arthur Beauregard was accustomed to pace, musing on the mystery and gloom which had enveloped him since he left the cradle.' There is no more of this very good story, but on the next page there is a curious thing. There are three lines all surrounded by a scroll, and do you know what is written ?-'A Woman can do ANYTHING with a man by not contradicting him;' and underneath the scroll is written, 'Don't I wish this was true? Helen M- -.' None of the rest is written so clearly as this

"Count von Rosen, I will not listen to any more!" cried Tita. "It is most unfair of you to have been reading this young lady's confessions

"I get them in a public inn: I have the right, have I not?" remonstrated the Lieutenant. "It is not for pleasure

-it is for my instruction that I read. Oh, there are very strange things in this book."

"Pray give it to me," said Bell, quite gently.

He had refused to surrender it to my Lady; but the moment that Bell asked for it, he came forward and handed it in through the window. Then he came in to breakfast.

Little time was spent at breakfast; the sun was shining too brightly outside. We called for our bill, which was brought in. It was entitled "Bill of Fare." Our dinner of the previous evening was called tea, and charged at the rate of one shilling a head. Our breakfasts were one shilling each. Our bedrooms were one shilling each. Any traveller, therefore, who proposes to stay at Bourton-on-the-Hill, cannot do better than put up at the inn of W. Seth Dyde, especially as there is no other; and I heartily wish that he may enjoy something of the pleasant companionship, the moonlight, and the morning freshness that graced our sojourn on the top of this Worcestershire hill.

Then into the phaeton again, and away we go through the white sunlight and the light morning breeze that is blowing about these lofty woods! There is a resinous odour in the air, coming from the furze and the ferns. The road glares in the sunlight. Overhead the still blue is scarcely flecked by a cloud; but all the same there is a prevailing coolness that makes the driving through the morning air delicious. It is a lonely country this stretch of forest and field on the high level between Bourton and Broadway. We pass Bourton Clump, and leave Bourton Wood on the right. We skirt Upton Wold, and get on by Furze Heath. Then, all at once, the land in front of us seems to drop down; we come in sight of an immense stretch of blue plain, from which the thin mists of the morning have not wholly risen. We are on the top of the famous Broadway Hill.

By the side of the road there is a strange, old-fashioned little building,

which is apparently a wayside chapel. Count von Rosen jumps down to have a look at this odd relic of our former Catholicism, which has remained on the summit of this hill for several centuries. He can discover nothing but a sign which tells that this sacred editice now contains wines, spirits, and beer; so he comes back, and goes up to the corner of a field opposite, where a middle-aged man, surrounded by some young folks, is making hay. In the utter stillness of the place, we can hear all the questions and answers. The small building is not so very old; it never was a church. The stones there mark the boundary between Gloucester and Worcester. The view from this place is considered unrivalled for extent; you can see the Black Sandy Mountains on a very clear day.

"Indeed!" says the Count. "Where are they, the mountains you speak of?"

"I don' knaw, sir-I've heerd tell on 'em-I never wur theear."

Going down this steep hill Tita looks anxious. A bad stumble, and we should go rolling over the little wall into the ravine beneath. One has a far-off reminiscence of Switzerland in watching the horses hanging back from the pole in this fashion, while every bend of the road seems more precipitous than its predecessor. Then we get down to the plain, rattle through the level and straggling village of Broadway, and drive into the fields again, where the sun is lying warmer than it was up over the top of the hill.

There is a small boy in a smockfrock sitting underneath the hedge, whittling a stick, while a shepherd's dog lies on the grass beside him.

"Evesham ?" calls out the Count, as we pass, merely because there has been a little doubt about the road.

"This is the way to Evesham ?" "Yaas, zir."

know where it is?"

"Do you Naw, zir."

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"He is a very cautious boy," says the Lieutenant, as we drive on; a very cautious boy indeed."

"If he had been asked properly at first," says Bell, with great gravity, "he would have given a proper answer. But when you say 'Evesham?' of course the boy tells you this is not Evesham."

Evesham, when we did get to it, was found to be a very bright, clean, and lively little town, with the river Avon, slowly gliding through flat meadows, forming a sort of loop around it. In the quaint streets a good amount of business seemed to be going on; and as we put up at the Crown, and went off for a brief ramble through the place, we found quite an air of fashion in the costume of the young ladies and the young gentlemen whom we met. But the latter, although they had copied very accurately the Prince of Wales's dress of the previous year, and had very stiff collars and prominent canes, had an odd look of robust health in their cheeks, which showed they were not familiar with Piccadilly and the Park; while the former, although they were very pretty and very neatly attired, ought not to have turned and pretended to look into the shopwindows in order to have a look at Bell's pretty grey dress and hat, and at Queen Titania's more severe, but no less graceful costume. But Evesham does not often entertain two angels unawares; and some little curiosity on the part of its inhabitants may be forgiven.

The people of Evesham are not much given to boating on the Avon; and sopostponing our usual river excursion until we should reach the SevernBell besought us to go into a photographer's establishment, and make experiments with our appearance. The artist in question lived in a wooden house on wheels; and there were specimens of his handiwork nailed up outside. Our entrance apparently surprised the photographer, who seemed a little nervous, and perhaps was a 49 afraid

that we should smile at his efforts in art. But surely nothing could be more kindly than Bell's suggestions to him and her conversation with him; for she, as a "professional" herself, conducted the negotiations and arranged the groups. The artist, charmed to see that she knew all about his occult processes, and that she was withal a very courteous and kindly visitor, became almost too confidential with her, and began to talk to her of us three as if we were but blocks of wood and of stone to be played with as these two savants chose. Of the result of the various combinations into which we were thus forced, little need be said. Queen Titania came out very well; her pale, dark, clear-cut face telling in every picture, and even making us forget the tawdry bit of brass and the purple velvet of the frame. the rest of us, a journey is not a good time to have one's portrait taken. The flush of healthy colour produced by the wind, and by much burning of the sun, may look very well on the natural face, but is apt to produce a different effect on glass.

As for

The Lieutenant, for example, roared with laughter when he saw himself transfigured into a ferocious bandit, with a great black beard, a dark face, and two white holes where his eyes should have been. But the moment he had laughed out, he caught sight of Bell's face. The young lady looked very much vexed, and her eyes were cast down. Instantly the young man said, loud enough for the photographer to hear

"I do seem to myself very ridiculous in this English costume. When you are used to uniforms for a very long time, and all at once get into this common dress, you think yourself some other person, and you cannot help laughing at the appearance yourself makes."

Bell's eyes said "Thank you" as plainly as eyes could speak; and then she paid a very grave and gentle compliment to the artist, whom we left beaming over with pride and gratitude towards the young lady.

"To go flirting with a travelling

photographer!" says Queen Tita, as we go in to luncheon: "for shame, Bell!"

No, it was only Mademoiselle's good nature to the poor man," replies the Lieutenant, with an unnecessary tone of earnest protest. "I do think he is the very happiest person in Evesham to-day-that he has not been so happy for many a day."

"I think the portraits are very good," says Bell, bravely, "if you consider how he has to work."

"Now you know you can't excuse yourself, Bell," says my Lady. "You paid him compliments that would have turned any man's head; and as for the truth of them or rather the unblushing perversion of truth in them"

But at this moment Tita happened to be passing Bell's chair, and she put her hand very gently on the young lady's head, and patted her cheeka little cares-ing action which said more than a thousand protestations of affection.

Our setting out for Worcester was rather a dismal business. Were we school-children who had been playing truant, that we should regard with apprehension a return to town? Or were Bell's vague fears contagious? In vain the Lieutenant sought to cheer her. She knew, and we all of us knew, that it Arthur Ashburton chose to come and ask to see her, nothing could be easier than for him to discover our whereabouts. He was aware of our route, and had been told the names of the principal towns at which we should stop. A party of four arriving from London in a phaeton is not a customary occurrence, and a brief inquiry at the chief hotels in any town would be likely to give him all the information he required.

Then, as we afterwards discovered, Bell had returned no answer to the letter he had sent to Oxford. She had been too much hurt, and had forborne to reply in kind. Who does not know the distracting doubts and fears that an unanswered letter-when one is at a certain age in life-may conjure up, and the terrible suspense that may prompt to the wildest action? We seemed to

share in Bell's dismay. The Lieutenant, however, was light-hearted enough, and, as he relinquished his attempts to break the silence, he sent the horses on at a good pace, and hummed to himself broken snatches of a ballad, and talked caressingly to Castor and Pollux.

When we were a few miles from Evesham, without having seen anywhere a glimpse of the obelisk that stands on the famous Evesham plain, it occurred to us that we might as well ask if we were on the proper road. There seemed a curious quietness and picturesqueness about the wooded lanes through which we were driving in the calm of the twilight. At length we reached a turnpike at the corner of several unfrequented paths, and here an old lady was contentedly sewing, while her assistant, a pretty little girl of thirteen, collected the threepenny-pieces. Well, we had only come about five miles out of our route. Instead of going by Pershore, we had struck away northward, and were now in a labyrinth of country lanes, by any of which we might make our way along through the still landscape to Worcester. Indeed, we had no cause to regret this error. The out-of-the-way road that runs by Flyford Flavell and Broughton Hackett proved to be one of the pleasantest we had traversed. In the clear twilight we found ourselves driving through a silent and picturesque district, the only life visible in which was the abundant game. The partridges that were dusting themselves in the road before us, did not get up and disappear with a strong, level, low flight towards some distant field, but walked sedately into the grass by the roadside, and then passed through the hedge. We saw several pheasants calmly standing at the outskirts of the woods. The plump little rabbits ran about like mice around the fences. The sound of the phaeton wheels was the only noise heard in this peaceful solitude; and as we drove on, the dusk grew apace, and the movements of bird and beast were no longer visible.

Then a new twilight arose-a faint,

clear light shining up from below the horizon, and we knew that the moon would speedily be glimmering through the black branches of the woods. The hamlets we passed showed streaks of red within their windows. There were glowworms in the road-points of blue fire in the vague darkness. Then we drove into the gloom of the avenues of Spetchley Park; and finally, with still another glare appearing in the sky-this time a ruddy hue like the reflection of a great fire-we got nearer and nearer to the busy town, and at last heard the horses' feet clattering on a stone street.

The thoroughfares of Worcester were busy on this Saturday night; but at length we managed to make our way through the people and vehicles up to the Star Hotel. We drove into the spacious archway, and passed into the hall, while the people were bringing in our luggage. The Lieutenant was, as usual, busy in giving orders about everything, when the head waiter came up and begged to know my name. Then he presented a

card.

"The gentleman is staying at the 'Crown.' Shall I send him a message, sir?"

"No," says Tita, interposing; “I will write a note, and ask him to come round to dinner-or supper, whichever it ought to be called."

"Oh, has Arthur come?" says Bell, quite calmly.

"So it appears, my dear," says Queen Titania; and as she utters the words, she finds that Von Rosen has come up and has heard.

"All right," he says cheerfully. "It will be a pleasure to have a visitor at dinner, Madame, will it not? It is a pity we cannot take him any further with us when we start on Monday; but I suppose he has come on business to Worcester ?"

The Lieutenant took the matter very coolly. He handed Bell and Tita upstairs to look after the disposal of their effects; and then came into the diningroom to see what arrangements had been made about dinner.

"If he behaves himself, that is

very

well and good. You must treat him civilly. But if not-if he is foolish and disagreeable, why”

The Lieutenant did not say what would happen then. He bethought himself of the horses, and strode away down into the darkness of the yard, humming lightly, "Mädele, ruck, ruck, ruck, an meine grüne Seite!" He was evidently in no warlike mood.

CHAPTER XI.

APEMANTUS AT THE FEAST.

"Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her father's men Come galloping over the downe: "And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye; 'Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitoure, Nor carrye that ladye awaye !'"'

"My dear," I say to Queen Titania, as she is fastening a rose in her hair before going down to dinner, "pray remember that Arthur Ashburton is also a vertebrate animal.' He has done nothing monstrous or inhuman in paying you a visit."

66

Paying me a visit?" says Tita, impatiently. "If he had come to see me, I should not care. But you know that he has come to pick a quarrel with Bell; and that she is likely to grant him everything he asks; and, if she does not, there will be infinite trouble and vexation. I consider it most provoking -and most thoughtless and inconsiderate on his part-to thrust himself upon us in this way."

"And yet, after all," I say, as she fastens on a bracelet which was given her nearly twenty years ago now, "is there anything more natural? A young man is in love with a young woman

"It is his own fault," she interposes.

He

Perhaps. So much the worse. ought all the more to have your compassion, instead of your indignant scorn. Well, she leaves his charming society to go off on a wild rampage through the country. A possible rival accompanies her. The young man is torn asunder