"Then you want him to meet his fate of life in death!" said Etwald, curtly.

The others stared at him, and with the skepticism of thoroughly healthy minds refused to attach much importance to Etwald's mysticism. Jen was the first to speak, and he did so in rather a stiff way, quite different from his usual jovial style of conversation.

"My dear Etwald, if I did not know you so well, I should take you for a charlatan."

"I am no charlatan, major," rejoined Etwald, coolly. "I ask no money for my performance."

"So it is a performance, after all?" said David, carelessly.

"If you choose to call it so. Only I repeat my warning to Mr. Alymer. Never get married."

Maurice laughed.

"I am afraid it is too late for me to take your advice, doctor," he said, merrily. "I am in love."

"I know you are, and I admire your taste."

"Pardon me, doctor," said Maurice, stiffly. "I mention no names."

"Neither do I, but I think of one name, my friend."

Here David, who had been fidgeting with his cigar, broke in impatiently.

"Now you are making a mystery out of a plain, common-sense question," he said, irritably. "We all know that Maurice is in love," here he raised his eyes suddenly, and looked keenly at his friend, "with Lady Meg Brance."

Major Jen chuckled and rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. Etwald bent his sombre looks on Maurice, and that young man, biting his lip, took up the implied challenge in Sarby's remark, and answered plainly:

"I am not in love with Lady Meg, my dear fellow," said he, sharply; "but if you must know, I admire"--this with emphasis--"Miss Dallas."

The brow of Sarby grew black, and in his turn he rose to his feet.

"I am glad to hear it is only 'admire,'" he remarked, slowly, "for had the word been any other I should have resented it."

"You! And upon what grounds?" cried Alymer, flushing out 

 Prev. P 10/157 next