ness, that the sight of it, especially when it was so decidedly pronounced to be Annette's, annoyed her. It was Rosamond's drawing to all intents and purposes, and Mr. Verney evidently considered it as such, He did not wish to conceal anything, but Myra was quite sure that Rosamond did. To have Annette drawn into and encouraged in anything underhand, was an odious idea. Myra was almost inclined to talk to Mr. Verney about the matter, but a dread of appearing impertinent kept her back. She had great ideas of the privileges accorded to persons in love, and believed that many little signs of private understanding were to be permitted to them, which were not admissible in the case of ordinary mortals. Actual deception or untruth could, however, under no circumstances, be placed in this permitted category, and it would be impossible for Mr. Verney to be a sharer in anything of that nature. Still, Myra did not quite like to ask him who had really given him the drawing, neither did she feel quite sure of having a sincere answer from Annette. Like many other persons who are doubtful of hearing truth, she preferred to remain in igno rance. When Mr. Verney bade Myra good-night, he said, 'If you hear anything more about expenses to be incurred for that poor thing, let me know; I might be able to help.' 'Would you! Oh, thank you! Mrs. Patty will think it so kind.' A cloud came over his face. Myra fancied he did not like to be thanked for his thoughtfulness. CHAPTER XXVI. WHOEVER has read Longfellow's 'Hyperion,' has heard of the lovely lake of St. Wolfgang, and the attractions of the little town of St. Gilgen. But the charm with which genius and poetry invest any particular locality, must always be, in a certain degree, dispelled by the stern experience of travelling. Fascinating as the village of St. Gilgen and its surrounding scenery would undoubtedly appear to a person strong both in physical and moral constitution, it was anything but fascinating to the two forlorn ladies who-ensconced in the interior of a shaky and dirty vehicle, capable of containing only two per sons, and closed as a protection from the deluges of July in a mountainous country-descended the road which leads to the shore of the lake, and, skirting its southern bank, conveys the traveller to the fashionable Austrian watering-place, Ischl. The elder of the two ladies was plain in face, plain in dress, and middle-aged. She looked rather careworn; and, if departed youth had left her any remnants of excitability, they were exhibited more in the form of anxiety than of pleasure. She was very anxious at that moment, no one could have doubted it; and few who looked at the pale, though very beautiful, face of her young companion, would have deemed her uneasiness unreasonable. To be travelling with a halffainting invalid, late in the evening, in an unknown country, seeing an indefinite distance before, and having traversed a weary length of way behind; above all, finding no prospect of accommodation, but that which can be afforded by the most homely of what in England would be termed public-houses, is not exhilarating to the spirits. Moreover, the lady in question was but a very indifferent German scholar, and up to this time had been dependent upon her young friend as a medium of communication with landlords, waiters, and peasants; but there was no hope of such assistance now. The young lady's feeble voice could only just be heard, as she entreated that the carriage might be stopped; and when this was done, she leaned back as though unable to say more. 'Don't you think I might bring you something to eat, Charlotte, my dear ? A little soup? You have had nothing all day.' The question was put very hesitatingly, Mrs. Tracy being doubtful upon two points; first, how she should manage to ask for the soup; and, next, what it would be like when she obtained it. 'If you would, please. It might be as well.' Mrs. Tracy left the rickety carriage, went a few steps forward, and then returned. 'The German for soup, Charlotte, my dear? I can't think of it.' not? 'Zuppe, Aunt Mary; but if I may have some water?' 'Certainly, my love. Wasser-Zuppe-that is right, is it You shall have some directly. Wasser-Zuppe; ich will haben'— and she proceeded on her way towards the little inn, repeating the words as she went, every now and then stopping to look back to the carriage, apparently with a faint hope that, after all, her niece would appear to help her, as she had often done before. The open archway of the inn was crowded with peasants. They had placed a table in the centre, and were sitting round it, not exactly carousing, like Englishmen under similar circumstances, but imbibing beer and smoke, to the decided deadening of the few faculties they possessed by nature. Mrs. Tracy threaded her way amongst them, gathering her garments closely together, and looking timidly from one side to the other, whilst she sought for some one to whom she might address herself. Gazing eyes met her; and laughs, by no means melodious or respectful, followed her; but she pressed forward undauntedly to the window of the little barroom, opening into the court, where stood a stout German woman, dealing out portions of thick liquid, in which floated balls of unknown quality-possibly bread, possibly meat, possibly-it might be as well not to inquire. 'Wasser, Zuppe, geben sie mir! Mrs. Tracy felt quite inspirited when she found how much German she could, upon an emergency, command; and something in her appearance gained the attention of the bar-maid, who motioned to the rough peasants to stand aside, and proceeded to ladle out, from a huge receptacle in the background, a plateful of the thick liquid, dipping into it a wide pewter spoon, and handing with her fingers a piece of coarse brown bread. With this, and the glass of water, Mrs. Tracy hurried back to the carriage; and, placing the plate of soup in her niece's lap, assured her that it looked excellent, and she almost thought she must have some herself. Just try it, Charlotte, dear, if only one spoonful; remember, we have a long way to go even now.' 'The water, please, first, Aunt Mary. I am so sorry you should have so much trouble.' 'No trouble, my love, if you would only eat; and if I understood German better. It must be a long distance to Ischl still; so pray eat.' 'Aunt Mary'— and the young girl looked eagerly in her aunt's face I have been thinking-wishing. Can we not go at once to St. Wolfgang?' 'My dear child! Impossible. A country village? What is to become of us? and no doctor!' 'But I long to go. I want to see friends-those friends of yours. I shall hear something from them; and I can rest by the lake, and be still. There will be no noise there—no people. I dread Ischl, Aunt Mary.' 'My friends have long lived out of England, Charlotte; they will not be able to tell you anything you wish to know. When we have settled ourselves at Ischl, and you are better, you shall drive over there.' But it will be quiet; and I want quiet. They said, at Salzburg, that Ischl was fashionable. O Aunt Mary! I am so tired; let me be quiet.' The tone was that of a weary petted child, admitting of no contradiction. Mrs. Tracy again repeated that a good hotel and a doctor, were to be met with at Ischl; whilst at St. Wolfgang they could expect only the kindness of friends, who could not be expected to take them into their house, and who, it was even possible, might not be there to greet them. The invalid, with the wilfulness of illness, carried her point. And Mrs. Tracy, taking the plate and the glass in her hand, went back with them to the inn, leaving her niece to explain to the driver the change in their plans. The crowd in the archway had rather increased. Every one was watching the strangers, and, as Mrs. Tracy approached, a sturdy man placed himself in her way, and addressed her in a German patois, to which, although unable to comprehend a word, she listened with an air of polite attention, until the countenances of the peasants round the table, and the tone of the man himself, convinced her that the beer had been too potent for him; and that her ignorance of the German language was for once a blessing. The poor lady's equanimity was completely upset by the discovery. She dared not attempt to pass the man, so as to lay the plate and glass on the table; she could not appeal for assistance; and she was upon the point of turning back again to the carriage, when a gentleman and two ladies, who had just landed from the lake, appeared in front of the archway; and the former, seeing her distress, immediately came to her relief. He was English—a stranger, apparently, like herself-stiff as English people always are; but he performed his little act of civility courteously, walked back with her to the carriage, and made the remark that the weather was very bad; and he supposed she had come from Salzburg. 'Yes, from Salzburg; and we had thought of going to Ischl, but my friend prefers St. Wolfgang.' 'You will have indifferent accommodation there, I am afraid; at least, if you are at all particular.' 'My young friend is a great invalid,' was the reply; and comfort is of the greatest importance.' ` 'Then by all means go to Ischl; you will find Baur's Hotel expensive, but good. Can I assist you farther?' 'Thank you, no. I am greatly obliged.' And the gentleman took off his hat, and the lady made her curtsey; and though they had not said that they were mutually shy of new |