"Your lecture is charming, your lips perfect. You may convert a Pariah, but never a Brahmin, never a High-Priest. Miriam, should you leave me, my love would grow praying for your return, and every word you speak makes you dearer!"

"I see," she exclaimed, as they entered the drawing-room, and sat together by St. Denys, "I see, clearly, my authority is to be absolute. So I enjoin my first behest."

"Yes, Miriam. Give me a command," he said, bending forward with his eyes upon her.

"You are never, never," she replied, archly, holding her finger before him, "to paint when I am away!"

"Bathos, pathos, and immutable as Athos," he interposed.

"No! that's too much," she continued, heedless of the remark. "We'll add a codicil to our will; not for a long, long while, that is. You shall dream no more dreams."

"Jealous?"

"Not I," she said, with a melodramatic air. "I scorn it. I'll be jealous of a real rival."

"A woman's love, sir, is an absorption," said St. Denys, glancing over his paper. "A sponge,

you must learn, that wipes out every one else. Her love is to have no one loved but herself."

66

"O papa, what a libel! It must be one's self, and not one's lover, one loves when jealous." "Right, little dame! I see, Rohan, by the news, Arundel contests his borough. What next?"

66

"Perfect love," said Miriam, still meditating, implies perfect trust. And we have that, dear," she whispered.

Sir Rohan did not reply, but always clasping her, remained in thought. Slowly again his eyes re-sought hers, the fond exulting smile wreathing his lips as he felt the quickening throbs of her heart at his returning gaze.

"It is a singular thing, this joy," said he. "It makes me tremble; it seems unnatural. I have heard of people of great faith as suddenly feeling their spirituality wonderfully increased, and of others who experienced unaccountable mirthfulness, or happiness, or strength. But Death or some great suffering always supervened," he added with a shudder.

"I wonder why," said Miriam.

66

Perhaps the soul," said St. Denys, "always

goes a little faster than life, a little beyond the fact; and so, having beat out and reached its mortal bars, surges back and flows with a double current over the mood of the hour."

The light was slowly dying, and they fell into silence, the delicious silence of passion, more affluent than endearments. It was only broken by the distant clang of hoofs.

At first far off, the quick sharp strokes struck nearer and nearer, like a clock measuring off the time. Here they clattered over a stony causeway, and now were muffled intermittently as the flail of a thresher. On the soft soil of the avenue the sound ferried the silence, like the fleet dip of an oar against the thole. They all sat listening, while it broke their dream; each beat fell distinct as a knell, and no one stirred till it was close upon them.

"It is Arundel," said Miriam then, starting to her feet. "I don't want to see him! Papa, do you mind entertaining him? And we will go out through the dining-room into that garden. I like that dim old garden, and the night begins to fall."

"Don't keep Sir Rohan out too long," returned

St. Denys, as she was disappearing. "Remember he still needs strength, Marc says."

A singular

Sir Rohan hesitated a moment. idea of honor had restrained him from mentioning Arundel's murderous attempt, and this was leaving St. Denys at his mercy.

"You are apprehensive of mischief?" asked St. Denys. "You are Marc's neighbor, know his tricks, and would put me on my guard? Miriam told you, I believe, of some game presented us the morning we left here. That was well enough, had it not been bagged in the wood, while the shot pierced my coach, an impossible way of killing two birds with one stone. He was as much surprised as anybody, probably. Don't fear for me, Rohan I can take care of Marc; he is poor material for a villain. Besides he may have some business with me relative to Miriam; he has hinted as much."

Miriam ran back at Sir Rohan's delay.

"Papa, is it too cruel to tire you with staying here alone?" she said, putting her arms round his neck, and hiding her blushing cheek. "But I can't help showing him how happy I am, and I would hardly like to, you know."

He parted her dropping hair, and raising the head, gently kissed her forehead before she danced away again.

In after life, when Miriam, free from the rapid vehement tumult of her youth, led St. Denys down the slopes of a calm old age, in a world of quiet peace where neither old sorrows nor future joys obtruded, she was glad that on this night, in the midst of her delights, at the high tide of her happiness, she had not forgotten him.