sport, at one and the same time to play with the hearts of two women. And one such a pretty little simpleton—the other such a high-topping task-mistress! The baronet felt proud of himself. And then he thought of his face, his figure; and took the incident as a matter of course. How could it be otherwise?

“You can’t predict the time?” and Sir Arthur gaily returned to the question.

“Haven’t an idea,” said Agatha; “no, not an idea.”

“At all events, then, you will see the patient every day?” Whereupon the baronet would look as though he had all his heart in his eyes.

“Why, really, Sir Arthur, upon such a subject I feel—I mean—you must ask my mamma. Ha!”—and Agatha snatched her hand away, for the door opened, and Mrs. Jericho, most sumptuously caparisoned, flowed into the room—“And here is mamma,” said the confused maiden.

Mrs. Jericho had a mother’s eyes, and would not then and there see the blushes of her daughter. As though Agatha had not been in the room, Mrs. Jericho, all smiles and presence of mind, received and returned the compliments of the baronet.

“Agatha, my child,” observed Mrs. Jericho in the softest voice, “I thought the Hon. Mr. Candituft—”

[Pg 85]

[Pg 85]

“Oh, Cesar is talking to Monica,” said Miss Candituft, stepping from the balcony, whilst Agatha felt it was impossible that she could do otherwise than faint to behold her. “Really you have a charming prospect from this window. I’ve been quite fixed by it—quite. Did not expect to see anything like what I have seen,” said Miss Candituft; and Agatha shuddered. The next moment Monica joined the party, informing her mamma that the Hon. Mr. Candituft had been removed into the study by Mr. Jericho. Thither let us follow them.

CHAPTER VIII.

Mr. Candituft still grasps the hand of his excellent new friend. “Upon my honour, my dear sir, the sight of you looking so well lifts a mountain from my mind. I wouldn’t have had the feelings of Dr. Mizzlemist for the honours of the earth.” Mr. Jericho feebly smiles, lifting his shoulders in deprecation of further sympathy. “Surely this—this is the hand the fork went through, yet not so much as a scar.”

“It was nothing: I’m happily formed, Mr. Candituft; that is, my flesh heals directly. It all 

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