Weekly Mail

BLUE SPECTACLES. WRITTEN BY JUSTIN M'CARTHY. CHAPTER I. Oh, my dear Mrs. Sanoliffe, I can't stand her. But, Louis, my dear boy, what nonsense I She is one of the best girls in the world. She has plenty of good sense—yes, I do assure you, you will like her ever so much when you come to know her." But I can't come to know her, there's the trouble don't you see. Nobody could come to know her. She doesn't want to know any- body." Come, oome, now, she wants to know '!I "u." Ob, does she ? Then why doesn't she try to know me ? Why, I have been making up to her, under your auspices, all these days. I have been neglecting anything and anybody for her." No, that you have not, indeed. You certainly have not been neglecting Miss; Burton, my governess." Oh, by Jove, Mrs. Sancliffe, if it comes to that, I'd ever so much rather marry Miss Burton, the governess-" Blue spectacles and all ? Well, the blue spectacles are trying, and I should like a little more hair than those few thin colourless wisps under the cap. But she is so olever, and she talks so well, and she asks such intelligent questions, and she is so sympathetic; and this other girl hasn't a word to throw to a dog. You couldnH arouse her curiosity about anything. She doesn't want to hear anything about anything; she doesn't know enough to want to know any more." Louis, you are like a man." Well," he murmured, in half-articulate remonstrance, you don't want me to be like a woman Yes. I do, in some things. I want you to be like a woman in reasonableness—in sweet reasonableness." "I say, like a woman in reasonableness I1' Yes, exactly; and in modesty, and in absence of self-conceit. Why, just suppose Miss Vernish were as clever and as well read and sympathetic, and all the rest, as you say Miss Burton is, now, tell me, do you really think she would care to marry you 1;' "But I don't suppose Miss Vernish does care to marry me; and I don't want her to care to marry me, I am sure." ".Well," Mrs. Sanoliffe said, I can assure you Julia Vernish has no occasion to throw herself at the head of any man." I never said she had," poor Louis meekly responded. I don't suppose she ever gav< one thought to me, or to anyone, or to any- thing for that matter," he added, plucking up a little spirit. Then you are going to-morrow," Mrs. Sancliffe said, suddenly and purposely chang- ing the conversation. Oh yes; I must, you know." But you are coming back again next week ?" Yes, I hope so; I will wire to you the exact day." All right, we will keep your room for you. There's the bell; I must go and dress." This talk took place in the drawing-room of an antiquated house in one of the Mid- land Counties. Mrs. Sancliffe, who was still a comparatively young and comparatively haudsome woman, had been a close friend of Louis Conway's mother, and now that Louis was alone in the world—his father and mother being both dead—she had taken him in band and was anxious to marry him off forthwith. She thought Miss Vernish would suit him nicely, because Miss Vernish was a pretty girl, who was also an orphan, and who had a great deal of money, and she rather gave out to Louis that if he tried he might be able to make Miss Vernish fond of him. Louis, as we have seen, did not take to it; and he had some money of his own, and would rather have married for love. He was, indeed, of a somewhat romantic turn of mind, and would have mnch liked to fall in love with some girl who was poor, to induce her to fall in love with him, believing that he also was poor, and then to marry her, let her know for the first time that he was not really poor when they were actually married, and then make her and himself happy for life. With these ideas he did not really take to Miss Vernish. The chaff concerning the blue spectacles came about in this wav. Mrs. Sancliffe had a governess for her two little girls, and the governess was very clever, very attentive, very lady-like, sweet—and plain. She always wore a cap, and she bad some thin twists of sandy or dan coloured hair escaping from under the cap and she wore portentous blue spectacles. The moment Louis saw her his natural chivalry inclined him to be extremely atten- tive to her. He felt deep commiseration for her position, her plainness, her thin, old- maidieh air, and her portentous blue spec- tacles. Most of the other visitors passed her over—the men were only formally polite to her, the women took hardly any notice of her. The two little girls, her pupils, adored her; the Sanoliffes thought very highly of her on that account. Louis found her very interesting, sound and clever. Her talk amused him. She seemed to him to grow friendly and confidential. She was very efficient as well as intellectual. When they got up oharades or tableaux vivants or scenes in play this winter she was invaluable. She could dress up any room or any person to represent anything that was wanted for the purpose of the performance. As Louis was almost always stage-manager w these artistio arrangements, he and she were thrown a good deal together, and they seemed to get on remarkably well. One result of this was some sly whispering among the ladies, concerning the difference of tastes among men, and the possibility of a man being in lore with a woman who wore blue anec- taeles. I am goi*i £ to town, to-morrow, Misl Barton," Louis said to the governess this evening—not long before dinner. He had come down rather early to the drawing-room, and found Miss Burton there alone. He was glad of this-for he wanted to say a friendly good-bye to the girl. I am so sorry," ahe said frankly. "We shall all miss you ever so much." One of the few advantages to a girl in bemg plain or in wearing blue spectacles is that she can be very frank and friendly in her dealings with young men. They can't think that such girls are trying to make love to them, I wonder shall you miss me P" he asked, fatuously. Oh, yes," she answered in as frank and friendly a fashion as before. I shall miss you greatly. But you are ooming back almost at once, Mrs. Sancliffe tells me ?" Yes, I am ooming baok soon. I don't quite know the day yet, but very soon, I hope." I hope so, too." Her voioe was low and sweet. The sound of the voice awakened, as it had often done before, a curious sensation him, Do you know," he could not help saying, that your voice sometimes puzzles me, Miss Burton ? It seems as if I must have heard it before. I am sure, sometimes, that we must have met before." "If you had seen me before," he said-it might be sadly, it might be coldly-" I should think that it is not likely that you could have forgotten me." She was alluding, evidently, to the hair, the cap, and the blue spectacles. He wished he had said nothing, yet he could not help going on. "Have you, perhaps, a sister.with a voice at all like yours ? And with a face very unlike mine ?" she said, good humouredly. "I didn't say that; I didn't meant that," he interposed almost angrily. "No matter what you meant; you meant nothing unkind, I am sure. But you were asking me a qustion. No, Mr. Conway, I have nc sister I never had one. I am like Melchisedeoh now-I have no relations in the world." Nor I!" he exclaimed. Just at that moment Mrs, Sancliffe entered the drawing-room. Only you two," she said. I am so glad I was so afraid that I was late and that some of the others would have come down. 1 don't mind about you two." CHAPTER II. Alas! for poor little Miss Burton. Poor little Blue Spectacles The house was very dull for her after Louis Conway had gone to town. Why had she ever been thrown in his way—again ? Yes, again for she had been thrown in his way once before, although he seemed to have no memory of her, except for some vague recollection of having somewhere heard a voice like hers. He evidently had not the least memory of her personal appearance. How soon he forgot me, and all about me," she said to herself. Surely she ought to have been glad of that. She ought to have been only too well pleased, on every ground, that the blue spectacles, the cap, and the wisps of hair had not made a deeper and more painful impression on him. It ought, perhaps, even to have given new strength and health to her often bruised and wounded self-love to find that the cap and the blue spectacles might be seen and not remembered against her. But, somehow, she drew no comfort from this reflection-in fact, these girls are all un- reflecting and inconsistent—and she only kept saying to herself, How soon he has forgotten all about me." She had met him once before-during a two-days' stay of his at another country place, where she also was governess, and which place she had to leave shortly after, going out on the world miserably to have another try at earning a living—under different and, as she hoped, amended conditions. And now she has unexpectedly come into the way of Louis Conway once again, and she has fallen hope- lessly in love with him, and she knows it. Hapless, hopeless maiden—what is the use of falling in love with a handsome and rioh young man when you have to wear blue spectacles? And he was coming back in a few days I She could not stand it; she could not stand any more of it-she had made up her mind. She was very fond of her young pupils, she liked the Sancliffes-husband and wife—immensely she was devoted to them, but she could not stay and meet Louis Con- way again under such conditions. She must go and try to make a living elsewhere. If she were to remain, the chances were that she must betray herself-that women would find out her poor little Bad secret—and only think how every one would despise her, and laugh at her No, it was decided. She must go, and go before Louis Conway came back. Would he miss her, she wondered, when he came back? Would he ever ask after her P How long would he remember her ? Not longer, surely, than he had remembered her before. All the better, she said, for him and for her; why should he remember her ? Why should she want to be remembered ? Why, indeed P So she reasoned wisely with her love and with her pain; and we all know by experience how readily love and pain yield to wise reasoning, and how philosophically they are open to conviction, and how tranquil they become under the soothing influence of a sermon! One night, after the other women had gone to bed, and Alec Sancliffe and one or two men had gone to the smoking-room, Mrs. Sancliffe opened a little confidence with Miss Burton. "Do you know, Miss Burton," she said, "that I have prevailed on Julia Vernish to come baok again ? She is coming back in a few days. We shall have to pack ourselves a good deal; the house has almost reached the utmost stretch of its elasticity—and you know the Drummonds are coming. But I must have Julia Vernish, and give the pair another chance." The pair another chance ? Mrs. Sancliffe —What pair? What ohance?" "Oh don't you understand? I quite thought you understood all through, and fol- lowed the oourse of my match-making. You know I am a born match-maker and I pine to see all my friends, men and women, as happily married as I am myself. Now don't you understand ?'' "No~I-am afraid I am very stupid? You know I am very fond of Louis Con- way—don't you ? w Oh Yes--I know that." Well, I want him to get married and settled. 1 don't believe a man can come to anything until he is married. Look at my A lec? Why, he was not able to say Bo to a goose until I married him." "Yes," Miss Burton murmured—to c^ry on the conversation, for Mrs. Sancliffe had suddenly stopped, evidently waiting to have something said, and Miss Barton did not know anything else to say. Well, I want Louis to marry Julia Ver- nish. She is a dear good little girl, and she is very good-looking and has money—and you know young men of to-day ask for nothing in a wife but money or good looks. Most of them prefer money and ask for nothing else, but my Louis is a better sort than that, and he would want a pretty face and figure-along with the money, perhaps- but still he would want them. Now here he has got a pretty girl and lots of money, and a nice quiet lady-like girl too, all to his hand. She isn't olever —that I admit-there I quite agree with you." Miss Burton had not said a single word to express any opinion on the intellec- tual capacity of Miss Vernish-11 But I don't think young London men to-day want intel- lect m a wife." I suppose not," Miss Burton said meekly. i « No-they don't want it-they hate it. Intelleot is all very well in a girl to talk to now and then, but it is considered altogemer out of place in a wife. I am sure Louis would never care about a woman of intellect-for a wife, I mean." Ob no," Miss Burton said. Why should. he?" f Quite so. Julia is very stupid I know- and I shouldn't like her for a life-long com- panion. But, then, that is all so different— I am not a man." But, Mrs. Sancliffe," Miss Burton said, rallying a little," you are, if you won't mind my saying it, a very olever woman, well read and all that, and yet you and your husband are an ideal pair of married people." Mrs. Sancliffe laughed good bumouredly. My dear, yes-but that is because darling Aleo is so stupid I He hasn't an idea of his own-he takes all my ideas, and they are enough for him! They do him very well, they make him happy. But Louis Conway has plenty of ideas of his own, and he doesn't want to be bothered with any ideas belonging to his wife, There is where the difference oomes in. When you marry, Miss Bur- ton nft.-t-v- < • Oh—when I marry "Yes, when you marry you must marry some good-natured, stupid man. I must look you out some particularly stupid man-" My dear Mrs. Sanoliffe, there is no great need of looking out much for a man like that. They are so common-there are so many of them—they are on exhibition everywhere I" And Miss Burton made a gallant effort to be sprightly and sarcastic. Well, I am going to make a last attempt to bring Louis and Julia Vernish together- and, Miss Burton, you must help me-why, what is the matter with you ?" For Miss Burton had broken out in a flood of tears. II Oh, Mrs. San cliff, I can't help you—I can't do anything except to thank you so muoh —and to be grateful always—and to love you so much-and the darling girls-yes, and Mr. Sancliffe too, I love lim so much—if you don't mind—and I know you don't—for he has been always so good to me and so kind to me!" II But, good gracious, Miss Burton—what are you in such trouble about? Of course, you love us all, for we all love you. But I have to go away-I have to leave you for ever—ever—ever—ever—I have to go to-morrow." "Miss Burton To leave us—to leave us for ever Why, what on eaith have we ever done to you ? Nothing—oh, nothing that was not kind and good and sweet-but I must leave you all the same—I must-I must And you mustn't ask me why—no—no—1 beg of you —you must not ask me why. Only do pray think well of me—and let me go." Then poor Miss Burton broke down again, Mrs. Sancliffe was a sweet and a sympa- thetic woman. She took the poor girl in her arms and fondled and soothed her. She did not try to get her seoret out of her-was it after all much of a secret ? Mrs. Sancliffe knew the ways and weaknesses of girls pretty well, she thought, and she had noticed how chivalrously attentive and kind Louis Con- way had been to the plain little governess with the wisps of hair and the dreadful blue speotacles. It would be better if men would let these poor things alone, she said to her vexed heart, even while she sat and petted Miss Burton. It's a great mistake to try to be kind and gentle and chivalrous to these ugly women they only get falling in love, poor things, and what on earth is the good of that P She made up her mind that it would really be much better to have Miss Burton off the premises until Louis and Miss Oh, I can't tell you," she said, between laughing and crying; ,¡ I'll tellUOlt to-morrow. Go away now, ) lease." Vernish had got quietly married then, of oourse, she could have Miss Burton back again. I shan't trouble you with any questions, dear," she said, when Miss Burton had got a little more composed. You are a good and a sensible person, and you are sure to have reason for what you are doing; but you will leave me your address, and I am your true friend, and you will come baok, perhaps soon, and there is a home for you here always, always, whenever you like to claim it." So they parted for the night. Mrs. San- cliffe sought out her husband, and poured out her trouble on him. He was very sorry, and in his regret, he totally forgot to tell her that Louis Conway was ooming baok to the Moated Grange that very same night, a little late. Mrs. Sancliffe went to her bedroom early, and Aleo was sorry he had forgotten to remind her, but it was not of the slightest conse- quence, he thought, for she probably knew all about it. CHAPTER iir. It was late when Louis Conway reached the Moated Grange. He was particularly anxious not to make any disturbance or to waken anybody, especially he did not want to waken any of the dogs. He knew that the house- hold would have to rise betimes, as the old phrase went, next morning, and he wished to make his own entrance and his escape to bed as unobserved as he oould. He was not sorry, however, to see a light in his host's smoking- room, and he was in the mood for a quiet oigar and a quiet talk that might take him out of himself for the hour. A leo Sanoliffe gave him a cheery welcome, and was evidently glad to see him back so soon, and they bad the oigar box and the long tumblers quickly out, and were making themselves comfortable. "Do you know we are going to lose Miss Burton p" Alec said, after they had talked of other things. Miss Burton evidently was on Alec's mind, for he rushed to her the moment he could fairly get other subjects decently shoved aside. How"curious! Louis Conway's mind was on Miss Burton, too! He positively lelt himself growing red under the influence of Alec's words, as he took a pull at his long tumbler before he composed himself enough to say, with a manner of decent indifferenoe Indeed! I am sorry to hear it. Why is she going ?" "I don't really know; it's a confounded nuisance, She was my wife's right hand man, if I may use the expression, in everything about the house and the children, and-and everything." Doesn't Mrs. Sanoliffe know why she is going ?" I. No; she oan't quite make it out; she isn't at all clear. The girl has taken some- thing into her head. 1 do so wish she would tell Nellie, but she won't, and yet she's as fond of Nellie and Nellie's as fond of her as they can stick, But she says there is nothing we can do, and I believe they two cry over it a good deal, but nothing muoh comes of that," When is she going ? To-morrow, I believe. I'm awfully sorry for it—1 always liked the girl, although I must say I often thought there was something rather mysterious about her-but Nellie would not listen to me, and said men couldn't under- stand anything about women, and that they 'only cared about women who were fetching and oould flirt, and that we could not appre- oiate Miss Barton because she had no flirting ways. and was not pretty, and wore blue speo- tacles. And I say, you know, between our- selves, it would be pretty hard, wouldn't it, to getmasbed upon a woman in blue spectacles?" I suppose it wouli-I suppose it would be almost impossible—I don't know some- times—I often wish men were not built on that principle." Built on what prinoiple ?" Well, I wish we didn't think quite so much of mere good looks, and externals, and bright eyes—I don't see why one should not love a woman with blue spectacles. Couldn't a woman love a man even though he wore blue speotaoles P" fI Well, I dare say she could-it would be trying, perhaps, but I dare say some women could-and then, you know, its different in the case of a man. The women don't love us for our beauty-luokily for most of us I must say I wish some nice high-minded fellow would take a liking to Miss Burton, and fall in love with her and marry her, blue spectaoles and all. Well-I must be getting to bed. You need not go until you feel in the humour—only, don't fail to put off the lights. You know your way F" My old quarters, I presume ? Yes -yes-I take it for granted-I have been away most of this afternoon. But it's all right, of course. I say—how do you get on with the young woman? Are things moving ? Ob, my dear fellow, don't ask me! It can't be-it positively can't I I never saw such a young woman. She can't be got to take an interest in anything. She can't be got to feel the slightest curiosity about any- thing." I I congratulate you, my dear boy. You are about to become engaged to a regular feminine Phoenix. She is alone, the Arabian bird! "Oh, confound the Arabian bird," Louis said, testily. What, do you mean to say you are going to throw the girl over ? My dear fellow, I never asked the girl to marry me, and, consequently, I can't be said to throw her over. She doesn't care three straws about me, or about anything, except wearing nice clothes and looking pretty." Well, look here, you must talk to Nellie about it, you really must. 1 fancy Nellie will think herself let in, don't you know ? I believe she has been working heaven and earth for you." I am sure I can satisfy Mrs. Sancliffe, She never could want me to marry a girl who cares nothing about anything—who hasn't any subject of conversation-positively not a single on'" Well, you shall talk it over with Nellie. I am sorry for all this —I am sorry about Miss Burton, and I am sorry about yoar affair, too." .iI But surely, seeing that it was f and not you who was expected to fall in love with the girl, I might be allowed to have my own way," he said, rather pettishly. "Oh, quite so—quite so-it's a free country. Good night—don't forget to put out the light-and you know your way." They shook hands, and Louis sat moodily down and lighted a fresh oigar. His mind was tempest tossed. He could not' marry the inourious silent woman, and sit trying to find topics for her through half his life, or be tortured by the thought that she was distress- ing every man who took her into dinner by her incapacity to talk or to feel any interest in anything. He was distressed at the newlI of .Miss Barton's sudden departure. He had grown to take a deep Interest in ner—Jn sprte of himself. Good heavens, he could not be in love with her. He asked himself the question again and again; he answered it himself again and again. Oh, no-that was impossible—it was out of the question, One cannot be in love with a woman who wears a cap to conceal her wispy hair, and whose eyes dart love fires-or would have thus to dart them if they had love's fires to dart-through the hideous, non-conducting medium of blue spectacles. And yet, when all was coming to an end, he found himself admitting to his own mind that his visits to Mr. and Mrs. Sanoliffe had been made so fre- quent of late, ohiefly because of the pleasure he found in talking to the blue spectaoles. Why not the young lady on whom his friends were foroing him-why had not she Miss Burton's intellect and taste, and sympathy and musioal voice?—Why—oh, why had Miss Burton blue spectacles and only a few wisps of sandy-coloured hair ? Why is man's affeo- tion governed and domineered by the paltry consideration of a pair of blue spectacles ? Or if man can absolutely love no woman whose eyes are shrouded in blue spectacles, why is man's breast ever tortured by the futile, tan- talising, perplexing thought that he almost feels in love with such a woman? "Man, said Louis, is an ass." With this salutory and convincing reflection he rose to go doggedly to bed. So he began to mount the stairs, not with- out a sigh. He was thinking sadly enough of the bright and hopeful way in which his visits to the Sanoliffes began, and how changed everything had grown to be now. The house was a delightful old building, full of corridors I all ups and downs, steps plunging unexpectedly downward here, and darting upward there- doors that opened not into rooms, but into other corridors, little turret windows in curious places, where, on a moonlight night, the round white face of the moon suddenly met your own face with a glare of corpse-like curiosity, that positively shocked and staggered one for the moment. Louis orept oautionsly along, holding his candle so as to throw some little light on the floor in front. He crept past one or two doors from within which he could hear whispering voioes, which told him that the world was not yet all quite asleep, and, in- deed, there was something about the house, which, in a dim sort of way, suggeeted preparation for preternaturally early rising, and people going away the next morning. He thought of poor Miss Burton journeying off, for some unexplained reason, out into the cold world once more. He wondered if he should see her in the morning, and then asked himself what would be the good, even if he were to see her, and admonished him- self that it was about time he should make up his mind not to be, at all events, a greater idiot than God and Nature had intended him to be. In this wholesome frame of miud he reached the familiar door of the familiar bedroom. He gently turned the handle, and, opening the door, was about to enter- indeed, had actually orossed the threshold- when he became suddenly aware that the room was already ocoupied. Yes-there was a woman sitting in a dress- ing-gown before the table with the mirror. Evidently she had been doing her hair, for there was the short thick golden hair all about her neck and Ihoufderø-oh, such divine golden hair-not long, but rioh and thick and ourly. The woman had her head down on her hands, and was so ftbaorbed in pain or grief or trouble of some sort that lhe did not notioe in the least the half-entranoe of our hero. He drew back abashed, and was about to steal gently away and olose the door behind him. But then the idea ooourred to him—where was he to go for the night f him-where was he to go for the night f This room W18. undoubtedly, his old chamber .1 -why, yes-there were the little shelves with his books still on them. Clearly he had not been mistaken in the room, although very' clearly mistaken in the recent dispositiOIl of it, He really thought that on' the whole he had best apply" for information on the spot, explain his perplexity to the lady in the room, j and ask her if perchanoe she could tell him j where he ought to go. There was surely no great harm done. The lady was dressed enough to receive the whole London County Council, and if her hair was down it was not even very long hair-beautiful and golden though it was. Some people he knew might think it rather improper for a woman to be seen with very long hair floating about her- but this hair was only thick and curly. How beautiful it was I All these thoughts passed within him, as the novelists say, in far less time than it takes to describe them here. So, holding the door in his hand, he began { I beg pardon, I have made a mistake." Then the lady started up and looked round, flashing on him the bewitching light of deep dark grey eyes, which, he could not help observing with a shock, were starred with tears. II Mr. Conway?" she exclaimed in great agitation. Where did that voice come from ? Most assuredly it was the sweet and musical voice of Miss Burton, the plain governess with the wisps of hair and the blue spectacles. But where were the wisps of hair and the blue spectacles ? Good heavens, there they were I Where? Why at the lady's elbow, on the dressing-table—see There are the wisps of sandy hair, there are the blue speotaoles I Oh, go away," she said with a sob, and she put her hands before her eyes. What on earth is the meaning of all this ?" he asked in a low, earnest tone. Is this a masquerade P Why are. you going away ? Why are you crying ? Why did you wear these things P" and he pointed to the wisps of hair and the blue spectacles. He was deter- mined to know all about it. "Oh, I can't tell you," she said, between laughing and crying'; "I'll tell you to-morrow, Go away now, please." í But where am I to go to ? Don't you know ? The room at the end of the corridor, on the left; the very laat room. We did not know for certain that you were coming." In all her perplexity the girl could not keep from laughter at his bewilderment and puzzled plight. I don't quite see where the laugh comes in," Louis said. I do not understand any- thing. What is this all about? You are Miss Burton, are you not ? Or, stay, are you not the girl I met at Colonel Lawrence's last autumn ? I remember your face know, I know I am right." Never mind who I am for a moment," Miss Burton replied, scornfully, "you can inquire into my history another time. I did not fancy that it would muoh interest you," she could not help adding, with a pardonable touch of feminine bitterness, as she remem- bered the soon-forgotten meetings at Colonel Lawrence's, and the hard fact that she had been oompelled to leave the place because Mrs. Lawrence scolded her so for flirting with gentlemen, and especially with Mr. Conway, and declared in her hearing that never in all her life would she allow a good-looking governess to darken her doors again. Then Miss Burton became overpowered anew by a sense of the absurdity of the whole situatiori, and of Louis's angry and puzzled face, and she broke into a silvery peal of laughter. If Louis bad only been quite oertain where to go, if he remembered the directions she had given him, he would have turned away in tragic dignity and left her to laugh her till. But, to inorease his anger, he heard what sounded like echoing ripples of laughter along the corridor-the laughter of a woman, and otber laugttftr, too, the laughter of a man. Miss Burton rushed back into her room and slammed her door. Only fancy his feelings-only think of his-wrath, Had he, then, been brought there to be turned into a laughing-stook ? Were they playing off some absurd jape at his expense P He was about to plunge along the corridor anywhere—any- where out of the joke. Oh, Louis, what a mistake!" Mrs. San- cliffe exclaimed, hurrying up to meet him what stupid forgetfulness of mine! But it wasn't all my fault, it was all Alec's fault; he never told me a word about you coming to-night, and we are 80 full I put Miss Burton into your old room, and it was only this moment that stupid Alec remembered it, We were sitting, up talking, and he heard you go blundering along the oorridor, and then, for the first time, he bethought himself of asking if you were quartered in your old room. I do hope Miss Burton was not bewildered." Miss Burton was not bewildered," Louis said, still in high tragio mood. "I had more cause to be bewildered." Oh, had you, though ? But how P About losing your way P But there are Iota of us up, and you might have knooked at any door and asked—even if Miss Barton's door was looked." Anyhow, you're all right now," Aleo said, trying not to laugh any more, seeing that Louis was not in a humour for being laughed at. Where's his room, Nellie P" "Miss Barton!" Mrs. Sancliffe called, Come out-if you are visible. I am so sorry you should have been disturbed." The door slowly opened, anaiaiss Burton came out. Her deep grey eyea were unshaded by spectacles, the wisps of hair had dis- appeared, the oareleas curling looks hung un- disguised about her neck, and the pretty woman stood absolutely confessed. She looked neither shy nor bold; not, certainly, quite at her ease, but not confused-ibe knew that she had been disoovered by one, that she must be discovered by all, and her miad was braced up to bear the worst. Miss Burton," Nellie Sancliffe! It is you —is it not ? What on earth is the meaning of the masquerade ?" "TOo-morrow-I'll tell you all to-morrow Miss Burton said in a low and timid tone. Oh, but please don't send us to bed sleep- less with curiosity—do tell us something to- night." It-it is nothing. I was poor, I am poor -1 had to teaoh for my living, and I was sent away from my last place, because—oh, I don't know how to put it—because the lady of the house said some men liked me, a because—because—oh, well, because-she said I was not ugly enough for a governess, and that's the whole story—and so I tried to makd myself ugly enough to please anybody," 4 A. very chorus of laughter followed the explanation, and then, when the laughter began to exhaust itself, Mrs. Sancliffe, fearing they might have offended the girl by their unseemly, but irrepressive, mirth, caught poor Miss Burton in her arms. My dear, she said, tenderly, 0 please do not ever go about to make yourself ugly again. loan more you we muoh prefer pretty women in this house—Aleo and I, at least, Of oourse, I can't answer for Mr. Conway." Now.if the rest of that story is not easily guessed, then the writer must have told it very baaly>. It rausi be his fault, surely, and his alone, if the reader cannot answer for Mr. Conway and for Miss Burton, too. (THE END.}