liberate insolence, even under circumstances | Clare had a miserable day. From her that make it doubly hard for him to endure window up-stairs, in her usual sitting-room, it—when, for instance, their relations are she did not feel safe from the observations those of hostess and guest; but any devia- of her audacious guest; she noted all the tion from courtesy, ordinary and extraordi- proceedings of her cousin and his friend. nary, on the part of the man, is considered Again that morning they were upon the a crime against all the most sacred superstitions of man the individual, and of that curious compound of amalgamated mankind known as society." You, at least, are free from such sacred superstitions!" cried Clare, in uncontrollable passion. "True! I am at daggers-drawn with superstition, and wage war against these empty conventionalities." "Sir! I do not think you will find it possible to carry on such a warfare under this roof." "Madam! how am I to understand you?" Mr. Smith scowled at Clare formidably from under his brows as he asked the question. "In any way you please, sir," she answered, too angry to be intimidated. Mr. Smith bowed profoundly. Clare swept away. Poor Clare! yet she deserved no pity. Mr. Smith wrote a letter that day to a friend abroad. This is an extract from it: "You ask me how I mean to amuse myself. In a novel manner-in breaking in a woman, taming a shrew, not for my own use, but for my friend. I am the guest of this schöne Teufelinn. This morning she gave me notice to quit; before to-morrow at this time she shall have asked me to stay -nay, more, shall have asked my pardon. If I describe this fair shrew to you, you will fall in love with my description; so I forbear, only saying that though she had the most beautiful foot in the world, as you might incline to maintain, I could not tolerate seeing it set on a man's neck, that man my friend; though she had the most beautiful hand in the world, as white as a lily, as smooth as sculptured marble, as soft as a mole's skin (a new simile that!), I would not let it play with a man's heart-strings as with the strings of a harp-to make music or discord at its pleasure. It is well you are not in my place; you would fall a victim at once; you would rave of her wonderful eyes, her sunshine-spun hair, her teeth, lips, chin; her brow would dazzle you blind by its whiteness, and the changing rose of her cheek would Are you not dying with longing and envy? I hope so." river. Mr. Smith appeared to have a passion for rowing. In the afternoon they rode over to the neighboring town. She was not asked to join them in either expedition. As she dressed for dinner, she saw the two young men leaning against the balustrade of the terrace, partly in the shadow of the cedar, talking earnestly. It seemed to Clare that Allan was pleading or remonstrating with his companion, who presently turned sharply round-his face had been half averted-put both hands upon Allan's shoulders, and looked into his face with an expression which made Clare think, "If I loved that Mr. Smith, and Allan were a woman, this little scene would have killed me with jealousy." Then she laughed to herself, and looked in the glass: she had an exquisite taste in dress; to-day she had not been careless. As the light laugh rippled over her face, and chased the lines of gloom and sullenness before it, she was not ill-pleased with the result of her efforts. "What is the use, if I cannot keep my temper?" she said. "I will keep it." When she went into the drawing-room, she found all the little party assembled there. Mr. Stanner was saying, "Leave us so soon, Mr. Smith! indeed you must not. You have seen nothing, done nothing yet. We are very proud of the beauty of our neighborhood, and must show it to you, who can so well appreciate it." "For many reasons I shall be sorry to leave so suddenly, but "-and he looked full at Clare-" unless a most improbable event happen, I shall be forced to do so. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have afforded me great pleasure to be longer Miss Watermeyr's guest; but the circumstances which decide me no longer to avail myself of her hospitality are not ordinary." Clare pretended to be absorbed in Mrs. Andrews's embroidery. She commented upon her progress, stooping so as partially to hide her face; then dinner was announced. Mr. Smith was grave and subdued in his manner all that evening; warmly affection ate towards Allan, he was also scrupulously, though icily, courteous to Clare-thus, as she felt, placing her still more in the worse position if he had been angry and insolent, she would have been much more at her ease; of course he knew this. Allan and Clare chancing to be alone on the terrace for a few minutes, Clare said, "I will do so, Allan-and you must take the consequences." 66 They will be that he will remain: a word from you will be enough. Shall I bring him to you now ?" "No; I will choose my own time and place; there is no hurry. You said he meant to leave to-morrow night—" One word more before you go in. Am "You are very sorry that your friend I very selfish in allowing you to ask my leaves you so soon?" friend to stay? Is his presence really disagreeable to you?" "I confess I am very sorry." "Why do you not persuade him to stay ? " "I cannot; I have tried." "If you have failed, no one, I am sure, is likely to succeed.” "No one but yourself. He has determined to leave, because, for some reason he will not explain, he is sure that his presence here is (to use his own words) offensive to you, the mistress of the house '-and so, in that way, injurious to me." "He leaves, then, after all, on your account-out of consideration to you," Clare said. "His friendship for me is very strong, and very disinterested. I assure you that he has a heart as loving as it is noble, though you would not think so." "I certainly should not think so, Allan. Well, I do not wish to scare away your friend I have no right to do so. This morning, stung by some of his cynicisms, I lost my temper and offended Mr. Smith. Shall I apologize and ask him to remain? I will, if you wish it." 66 Apologize! no, certainly. I should not choose you to apologize to any man," Allan answered, proudly. Clare winced, but let the expression pass for once. She had spoken with an affectation of carelessness; of course, Allan could not guess her complex motives for this concession- -a concession which delighted him, for his friend's sake and his own. It was too dusk outdoors now for him to see the expression of her face, or he might not have been so much delighted. "I can tolerate it," Clare answered, with a laugh Allen did not understand. “Now, don't keep me out any longer; it is quite cool." May I venture to thank you thus ?" Allan touched Clare's hand with his lips. She withdrew her hand, not angrily or hastily- the truth being that, full of other thoughts, she hardly noticed the action. They had approached near enough to the windows for the light from the room to fall upon them. Mr. Smith noticed all the points of this little by-play-Clare's air of abstraction, Allan's flushed and eager-eyed look of happiness. "What is up now?" thought the cynic. He further thought, as he presently looked at Clare's hand resting on the back of a crimson velvet chair, as she stood a few moments at the window, listening tolerantly to Allan's comments on the beauty of the scene-lawns, woods, river, and the distant hills-that, just for the sake of experience, he would not mind re-enacting the little comedy of the other morning, substituting the lady's hand for the lady's glove. Presently the expression of Clare's face became more than tolerant- animated, interested. Mr. Smith stole from the near neighborhood of the cousins, but not before he had become aware, with a curious thrill, that Allan was talking of his student life, and of the varied and valuable services rendered him by his friend during that critical period. "Poor dear Allan!" soliloquized Clare, when she was alone for the night. Perhaps even to herself she did not explain this sudden compassion. "But though I should not wish, or like, you to apologize to John, feeling sure that he must have been at least equally in fault" -Allan continued, after a pause-"I should be deeply gratified, dear Clare, by your expressing to him a wish that he should post-proudly, and she smiled into her own eyes pone his departure," shining upon her from the glass, dilated with "For all that, even if I believed it, I have been insulted, insolently treated, and must have my revenge." And her face flushed anticipation of triumph. The expression of her face changed as she continued: "Allan is wonderfully good, wonderfully guileless; he can be firm, too, even imperious, I expect. He would not choose me to apologize to any man!" She repeated that, dwelling on the word choose. "I hate myself for making him suffer, yet I take delight in it, too. If he were not so good, I should be more likely to love him, I think. He is too good for me!" Then, in strong contrast to her cousin's frank, fair face, she saw the dark inscrutable countenance of Mr. Smith. Clare had strange dreams that night. CHAPTER VI. CLARE's first thought on waking was of what she had to do that day, and of how she would do it-whether lightly and jestingly, or in a way that should make a serious scene. "After all, it is not much use deciding beforehand," she said to herself, as she went down-stairs-recognizing by these words that it was not her mood, but Mr. Smith's, that would give its tone to the interview. Mr. Smith was always up and out early. She put on her garden hat and gloves, and with basket and scissors went down the terrace-steps and passed the lawn to the sheltered rosary. She filled her basket: strolling slowly back, through a circuitous well-screened path, she, as she had anticipated, met Mr. Smith coming from the direction of the river. He was passing her with a bow, when she stopped him. "Are you implacable, Mr. Smith-unforgivingly resentful? Will you leave us today?" she asked, with a winning smile. "I should have done so yesterday, but that I hesitated to give Allan that pain." "And you will go to-day ?" "Most certainly. Having ascertained this, have you any further commands ?" "I command you to remain," Clare said, laughing, but not, for all that, at ease. Mr. Smith raised his brows, and gave no other sign. "Shall I teach you the proper answer to make to a lady's command? To hear is to obey.'" "I am and have been quite serious, Miss Watermeyr." "Well, I am now quite serious. Will you reconsider your determination? I promised my cousin that I would ask you not to go. Will you, for his sake, consent to remain ?" "We-Allan and I-hardly need a mediator. You have now, in compliance with your promise, asked me not to go. I will not disappoint you by complying with your request. We understand each other, I think, and things, of course, remain as they were." "I ask you, then, as a personal favor to abandon your intention of leaving us so suddenly." Clare looked conscious of having made an immense concession, but she saw no relent ing in Mr. Smith's face, so she continued, "If I spoke angrily, unbecomingly, yesterday-if I forgot that you were my guest -I ask your pardon for having done so." The ice so far broken, swayed by the impulse of the moment, she went on to say a good deal more than she had intended, or than was fitting. "You made me angry. It seems just now as if everybody combined to insult and vex and perplex me. If you knew all-all I have to bear, all I expect to have to bear-I think you would not be quite so harsh. I have no one to advise me, there is no one to trust to. I have, I dare say, seemed cold and proud, unkind to Allan-insolent, as you rightly called me. But if you knew how miserable I am, how much I need help. You will say, 'There is Allan;' but he is the last person to whom I can go for help. But why should I speak of this to you, who choose to consider me as an enemy? Have I humbled myself enough, Mr. Smith? Will you stay with us for the present ?" "If Miss Watermeyr herself desires, and requests in her own name that I should continue to be her guest, this alters the whole position of affairs. I will gladly remain here longer." He had watched her very keenly while she spoke. Though he had seen her color change and her eyes moisten, he did not believe in her. "Thank you," said Clare. "And if we I render no obedience where I owe no are to be enemies, may I know why we are allegiance." to be so ?-why we may not be friends?" "Seriously, Mr. Smith "-Clare began. "I have your cousin's happiness more at "If you would but make Allan happy," he said. "Will you try?" "Clare blushed angrily. Again she felt herself mocked; but she felt more than that -something she did not understand: tears of pain and mortification rushed to her eyes. "I cannot, savage and cynic as I am, ac cept your apologies, and make none. You had provocation-There! I cannot make pretty speeches. Consider all I should say said thus He kissed her hand; he raised it to his lips with an air of careless condescension, as a prince might a pretty peasant-maiden's ; but the kiss could hardly pass for one of careless condescension, or of cold ceremony. A thrill of triumph passed through Clare's heart, but when Mr. Smith's face was raised again, those lips had such a queer smile upon them, that she knew not what to think, so she smiled coldly, saying, as she withdrew her hand, played upon, whereas she had meant to be the player, not the instrument. When, at breakfast, something was said about Mr. Smith's plans, he answered briefly, "The event to which I alluded as most improbable has taken place; therefore, for the present, I am quite at the service of the fair company here assembled. Miss Watermeyr, could not you persuade Mrs. Andrews to trust herself to our tender mercies on the river? We should be proud to show our skill to you ladies." "Are you going on the river, then, Clare?" Mrs. Andrews asked. "If you will come too, auntie," Clare answered, promptly, though she had not been asked before; though she did not much like the water, and had no inclination to go on it that morning. She wished for an interval of peace, and felt that her refusal would be regarded as a declaration of war. "Auntie was always rather fond of the water," Allan said; and the matter was settled, to the astonishment of two of the party at least-Allan and Clare. The excursion proved a success. Clare was gentle, Allan in brilliant spirits; Mr. Smith bitter of course, but not at the expense of any member of the party, which made all the difference to his companions. Mr. Smith added a postscript to his letter : has begged me to remain her guest-has "I was right; my superb young hostess asked my pardon for the words which gave me offence. Oh, I shall be able to tame this lioness, and lead her to her master's feet. Tamed or untamed, he is obliged to take her-she is obliged to belong to him; so I "An interesting scene, which a spectator quiet uses of domestic life.' I should be do a good work if I can break her in for the would hardly interpret aright; so we will quite confident of quick success, only that I end it, if you please." These words, and fancy the beautiful creature is treacherous as the manner of them, neutralized any soften-well as strong. I have a dim suspicion that ing influence of what had gone before. "You mean that you withdraw the white flag of truce ?" Mr. Smith said "Look upon this in that light," she said, and offered him a white rose from her basket; but, as he accepted it, he said, "You have to teach me in another way than this, whether it is peace or war between us." she is playing a game with me, or trying to do so. I distrust her sudden gentleness, and shall keep well upon my guard." CHAPTER VII. IT was indeed playing with edged tools, the game in which Clare and Mr. Smith engaged. They walked towards the house together, Naturally the two antagonists occupied silently. Again poor Clare was baffled and themselves much one with the other: a muperplexed. She felt that she had been tual study of character, and a mutual ob servance of conduct, were of course need-to the very quick sometimes, irritated, beful. Opportunities for this were not want- wildered; yet she still believed that she was ing; their intercourse was constant, if it playing a part, striving for the difficult and was not intimate. Clare rode, walked, or only possible revenge. And, of course, the went on the river with the two friends daily more difficult the battle, the more she set now. This change made Allan very happy; her heart and soul on victory. She looked from it he drew all manner of good omens, as back to her former monotonous life with also from the fact that Clare did not, as she distaste; just now she was interested, exhad done at first, avoid being alone with cited; there was always something to look him. At such times she encouraged him to forward to; she could hardly tell whether talk about his friend, and perhaps forgot to there was more pain or pleasure in the exbear in mind that from Allan she was sure citement, but she would not, if she could, to hear of nothing that did not tell favora- have changed it for the life that had preceded bly for her adversary. Mr. Smith was more it. For the present she avoided looking to on his guard; he let Allan talk of Clare, any future beyond that of the next encounter but he made ample allowance for the blind with Mr. Smith, the next day, or the next partiality of a lover. Among the cottagers week; how things were to end between round he tried to hear of her pride and tyr- Allan and herself she would not consider, anny, but without much success; he heard much less decide. her spoken of not certainly with the intimacy of love, but with gratitude and admiration. "Of course they feel bound to-praise cupations now; she played chess with Allan, her," he inwardly commented. "After all, if she could be brought to love Allan as Allan loves her, then, I say, Allan might do worse; but if she marries him, as she will do, because she is driven to it, because there is no alternative which her pride could tolerate-in this case Allan will enter not purgatory, but hell itself, when he enters the estate of holy matrimony;' and it were better for him to hang a millstone round his neck than such a wife. What is all this to me? Nothing! only Allan is the one being in the world whom I love, and I cannot have him made miserable. In one way or another I can prevent this marriage, if needful." : So Mr. Smith settled matters in his own mind having done so, he did not perhaps reconsider either his resolutions or their motives: he strove with might and main to gain influence over Clare. More covertly and subtlely than at first, and always on his guard before Allan, he contrived to harass and weary her, putting a sting into his words or his manner constantly, yet so cunning a sting, and so cunningly concealed, that often when she afterwards picked his words apart and analyzed his manner, she would wholly fail to discover what it was that had wounded her-where was what had wounded her. Nevertheless, wounded she was often, stung Even on wet days, or during the hours that were too hot to be passed outdoors, she seldom sought her own room or her own oc Mr. Smith looking on, losing no opportunity for a bitter witticism or pungent joke at her expense, if it could be indulged in in a way that should not attract Allan's notice; sometimes she accompanied Mr. Smith on the piano when he sang. He had, as Allan had assured her, a wonderfully rich and mellow voice-so much so, that it seemed as if all the sweetness that should have mellowed his nature had been concentrated in this organ When she did this, she was generally subjected to some implied reproach for want of taste or of accuracy. Though she possessed, and knew that she possessed both, Mr. Smith could make her feel like a blundering schoolgirl in fear of a strict master, Sometimes Allan and Mr. Smith read aloud by turns, while Mrs. Andrews knitted and Clare idled over a piece of embroidery, in which she had lost all pleasure since Mr. Smith had condemned both its design and execution, but which she would not abandon. One morning when they were so occupied, Mr. Stanner, who did not often form a member of the party, came into the room, the county paper in his hand, evidently under some excitement. "Old fools certainly are worse fools than young fools," he said. "There is that old fool, Lord —," mentioning a neighboring nobleman, "has married a ballet-girl-a |