when she had thanked him for his trouble in the matter of the purchase, hesitated a moment, and then went on to speak of other matters.

"I understand, Mr. Fitzgerald," said she, "that you have been very gay at Hap House since the hunting commenced."

"Oh, I don't know," said Owen, half laughing and half blushing. "It's a convenient place for some of the men, and one must be sociable."

"Sociable! yes, one ought to be sociable certainly. But I am always afraid of the sociability of young men without ladies. Do not be angry with me if I venture as a friend to ask you not to be too sociable."

"I know what you mean, Lady Desmond. People have been accusing us of—of being rakes. Isn't that it?"

"Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald, that is it. But then I know that I have no right to speak to you on such a—such a subject."

"Yes, yes; you have every right," said he, warmly; "more right than any one else."

"Oh, no; Sir Thomas, you know—"

"Well, yes, Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas is very well, and so also is Lady Fitzgerald; but I do not feel the same interest about them that I do about you. And they are such humdrum, quiet-going people. As for Herbert, I'm afraid he'll turn out a prig."

"Well, Mr. Fitzgerald, if you give me the right I shall use it." And getting up from her chair, and coming to him where he stood, she looked kindly into his face. It was a bonny, handsome face for a woman to gaze on, and there was much kindness in hers as she smiled on him. Nay, there was almost more than kindness, he thought, as he caught her eye. It was like,—almost like the sweetness of motherly love. "And I shall scold you," she continued. "People say that for two or three nights running men have been playing cards at Hap House till morning."

"Yes, I had some men there for a week. I could not take their candles away, and put them to bed; could I, Lady Desmond?"

"And there were late suppers, and drinking of toasts, and headaches in the morning, and breakfast at three o'clock, and gentlemen with very pale faces when they appeared rather late at the meet—eh, Mr. Fitzgerald?" And she held up one finger at him, as she upbraided him with a smile. The smile was so sweet, so unlike her usual 

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