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An Awkard Position.

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An Awkard Position. Do you think two girls ought to be born so exactly alike?" said Char 1 ie Dacre, ruefully twisting up a cigarette. The other niau roared. How the dickens is it to be helped?" he said. I don't know, but it's^^easfcly nnisanoe." Are you talking o^^nose two Dennison girls? They're not exactly alike." It's all very well for you, but I haven't your long s;ght, and I declare to you if I see either of them at a little distance, or in a bad light, I can't tell which is which." And yet you adore one Dennison, and, 1 suppose, regard equably the other," said Bal- lautyne. "My faith! Charlie, you're a cur!" Now, look here," said Charlie. in an aggrieved tone, "ie it my fault or theirs, when neither of them will even be called Bella? That, would distinguish them a little; at any rate, one would know who was in the room. l'm goiiig1 to a party to-night, given by the respected parents of my Dennison, and I posi- tively dread it." Perhaps they play tricks on you," said Bailantyne. One of them is rather skittish. Charlie said he thought neither of them would play him off in that way, and piesently left his friend's rooms. He got, himself up that night with extra- ordinary care, and, as he was it good-lookin,- fellow, he presented a rather striking appear- ance as he entered Mrs Dennison's drawing- Tooms. He had been detained, so that most of the gnests had arrived when he cams, and his inamorata was nowhere to be seen. But shortly after he had paid his respects to the host and hostes3 the daughter cf the house, prettily dressed in white and blue, came up. Dacre begged for a dance—two dances. "I'm so sorry." said she. "but I've nothing vacant till the Lancers. You're a little late, Mr. Dacre, you see." with a slight accent of reproach as she gave him her card. Charlie apologised in the humblest terms, and the girl bestowed a smile on him as she was led away. Dacre went to seek her in good time for bis Lancers. She sat on an ottoman in a distant part of the room. where the drooping folds of a curtain formed a. shade from the glare of the lights. The blue and white of her filmy gown stood out against the dark background. Dacre hastened across the room to her. "Miss Dennison. my dance," he said, eagerly. "May I?" She turned her pretty face and arched her eyebrows in surprise. "How do yon do, Mr. Dacre?" said she. "Your dance?" "Yes," said Charlie, "the Lancers—you pro- mised—oh! I beg your pardon. You're your consin-I mean, the other Miss Dennison-and, of course, I haven't seen you before." Then, recovering from hi* confusion before the young lady could speak, he added "I hope I'm not too late to get a dance. Miss Dennison?" Having secured this, he sought the other Isabel. "Why in the fiend's name do they dress alike?" he muttered, in nervous fear of another mistake. He might be continually coming across the one lie didn't want, like a recurring decimal. Several times he bore down on a fair girl in blue and white, but turned away, deciding that he had only come cn an Isabel in another place. The Lancers had begun—it was in full swing before be came suddenly on a sofa where sat the Isabel. "Miss Dennison," he stammered. "I'm so JIIOrrv-" "Pray don't apologise," said she coldly; "I assure you the delay is not of the slightest moment." "Indeed, it was Quite unintentional," said the unfortunate Charlie, in despair. "I have been It oting for yol-" "I have been sitting here the last ten minutes, and yon passed me just now." "I saw a blue and white dress," acknowledged Charlie, "but some people came between it and me. Won't you forgive me, and dance this? It isn't too lat" "I think my mother wants me," said Isabel, rising with dignity. "May I take you to her?" "No, thank you." Charlie only got pardoned when everybody was going. He was mad with himself, but could not bring himself to acknowledge the real reason of his apparent neglect. He was sensitive about these constant mistake.?. They went on happening, of course, the one Isabel laughing at him, which he dreaded; the other turning haughty and offendtd. He offered some flowers to a Dennison girl one day, and she said demurely; "Are you sure they were meant for me?" "Whom else could they be meant for?" said Charlie, sentimentally. "My cousin, perhaps—she's over there." srn-l the girl. merrily. Dacre flushed in unutterable confusion, and took back the flowers, scarcely knowing ribitt he did. And when he turned away he met the scornful eyes of a girl who must be the Isabel he wanted, because the girI he had left wasn't her. It was quite impos- sible to present the flowers, and he made a crestfallen escape as soon as he could. "Hang it! I'll end all this!" he said, angrily. one day. "But I shall have to be careful, if I am happily successful, that I marry the right girl. It would be awfully awkward if I didn't." His opportunity sseraed thrown into his hands, for he was invited to spend a week at a country house where the Isabel was also going with her mother. He sat next her a" dinner, and to his great del;ght saw no other Isabel. > "Wo shall be a larger party to-morrow,' said the young lady; "my cousins are eoming." "The—the Dennisons?" Charlie almost gasped. "Not all of them-only Isabel and Lucy." This was comforting! And both Isabels had sucli an odious habit of dressing in the same co.ours! Why clidnt they wear diffsrent coloured ribbon, like French twins? He got along fairly well, with. great care and caution. One evening he saw Isabel Dennison entering the library. He knew it was his one, because she had nn a grey dress, whereas her ooTisin had worn a green one during the day; otherwise it was too dark to see her features. He followed her into the room. "The nicest time for a chat," he said, and she made a movement as if to leave the room, flitting toward* a further door. "Yes, but I'm afraid I can't stay," she said. "I o.ily came to fetch something I left here." "Well, but don't go-tay a minute," said Dacre, entreatingiy. He had no doubt at all about his accuracy as to identity; her desire to e-cape from him was a sure proof, let alone others; for it was precisely the desire sile had shown in t-he last few days, and which .-e took J as a favourable sign. "Miss Dennison—Isabel —am I mistaken in thinkir)g-in hoping-you know—y jU surely must know—that I love you The girl had stood still for a second while Charlie rushed on with his declaration, but ehe interrupted him hastily: "Indeed. Mc. Dacre. I'm afraicl-" "Don't say that," said Charlie, going nearer; "all those weeks in to^vn—down here, when we have Seen thrown so much together—I surely •have not misundrstooù-" A stifled sound came from the dim figure be Tore him. whether laugh or v-hat he could not tell; but he suddenly started back, and in ao doing came face to face with another Isabel in a grey dress. If the earth had opened and swallowed him, Charlie would have been thankful. This was the crowning disaster. Neither Isabel stirred— v htcM, in heaven's n atp e, was which? To whom had he proposed? How should he ever know he had goi the right Isabel. Ho recognised after the first; wild movement that he must save the situation. He ap- proached ifig newcomer, who eyed him di3- dainfuliy. "\fi-JS D('ni.)n-li!Zthd-" he began. Deni tl 1.4,i,bici "Which Mi-s Denison do you intend to address. Mr Dacre3" she demanded stiffly. "How the deuce should I know? It is nearly dark, and you both evade me." "You had better pursue your conversation with the :ady you seem to recognise best, and I will retire." The other Isabel sprang forward: Don't be a goose, cousin," said she. halt laughing, and you, Mr. Dacre, wait a. minute. You know very well, Isabel, it's all a mistake, and I'd have interrupted Mr. Dacre before only he was so impetuous I had no time. He didin't mean me at all——" Mr. Dacre doesn't seem to know who he means," slaixl the offended Isabel "I know very well when I can see them," murmured Charlie, nearly crushed. "Here goes for a light." But when a blaze of gas illumined the room only one Isabel remained. Dacre took her hand. r You are the one," he said. "Are you quite '8ur?" she asked archly. "Ah! that's cruel. Of course, I am. Wbat will you say to me, Isabel—forgive me and Lovo you," whispered Isabel. I hope it's the right one," said Bailantyne, when the marriage ceremony was over; "but' upon my word, he was almost taking the bridemaid's hand instead of the bride's'" [THE END.] 1

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