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Ah, the bad temper of the Moores," said Philip; "she wants to be broken in, Madam; you have given her head too much." "Ah, she is not very bad," answered the Madam, with a smile.

The next day rose bright and clear, the sunshine chased the shadows up and down the hillsides; the little lake laughed in the light, while in the distance, a sapphire sea rolled in upon the yellow shore, Ethna performed her household duties in a state of suppressed excitement, that increased when she came to make her toilet. Her black silk never looked so shabby; it was, certainly, a little polished here and there, and not quite so fashionable as it was two years ago; her best hat too seemed to show a summer's use, but it became her, every one said, which was a consoling thought to fall back upon. Ethna, it must be confessed, was not a pattern of neatness. She was fond of grand clothes and had æsthetic ideas about them; but, notwithstanding the Madam's mild lectures, she "ran through them," as that lady expressed it. Her appearance never before seemed of such vital importance, and she made many internal resolutions to be more particular about her wardrobe in future, and buy, at least, one suit that would be perfectly presentable.

Punctually at two o'clock Philip arrived and went into the sitting-room, where the Madam was tranquilly reading a novel. Nora ran excitedly to call Ethna.

"You can't come, Nora, darling," said the Madam. "Miss Butler is outside, and there would not be room."

"Don't cry, Nora," added Philip. "I'll give you a drive when we come back."

The piteous expression vanished from Nora's face. "Can I leave on my new dress, ganma?" she asked. won't be long away?"

"You

"Yes, my dear; as Mr. Philip is going to be so good to you. But mind and don't soil yourself; he wouldn't drive a dirty little girl in his nice trap."

Nora took the pup's fore paws and danced out before them in great glee.

The party proceeded to the vehicle, which they found to be Mrs. Moore's pony carriage. Miss Butler gave the reins to Philip, and after the usual greetings they placed themselves. The Madam sat in front beside the charioteer, the two girls behind, and in a moment they were in motion, the ponies tossing their pretty

heads to the music of the silver bells with which their harness was decorated.

"I drove the ponies over in spite of Philip," said Miss Butler. “I had him in a nice fright coming down the hill. He used to catch my hands every moment. Do you know how to drive, Miss Moore ?"

"I drive our own horse," answered Ethna; "but he is very quiet."

"I think it is great fun. My sister is a splendid whip. She thought it better to send this little trap for Mrs. Moore, Philip's is so high. I knew I could coax him to give me the reins, so I came, too."

"It was too much trouble to give your sister," said Ethna. "We could have gone on our own trap, only Phil-Mr. Moore offered to come for us."

"Oh! Philip is ever so good-natured," answered Miss Butler. "It would be very dull at the Lodge only for him. Harry and Ethel are never done spooning. We make such fun of them."

"I hope you are making honourable mention of me, Bertha," said Philip, who had caught his name.

"Oh! yes; I am saying ever such nice things about you," she replied. "I am afraid he will become vain, Miss Moore. One is inclined to make too much of a man in a place like this. Don't you think so?"

"It is not unlikely," said Ethna, who was not enjoying her drive over the sunlit hills as much as her companion.

"And men are naturally conceited," went on Miss Butler. "They fancy we can't live without them."

"False doctrines," called out Philip. ""Tis women who are conceited-that is an accepted fact; and you cannot live without us-that's another fact."

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Indeed, I can, and I will for ever such a long time," said Miss Butler. "Wouldn't you hate the idea of being in love, Miss Moore? I'd despise myself for being so soft, wouldn't you?"

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"Yes, I ought," replied Ethna, mechanically.

"It is well for you, though," said Miss Butler. "You are out of the way of temptation here. There is no one to fall in love with."

"Oh, if they are not just here, they are not very far away. I know a great many people in town," answered Ethna, not quite

relishing the idea of having been untempted.

"You are a strong-minded young person, Bertha," said Philip, "alarmingly strong; but wait awhile. You are not very old yet."

Indeed, I am old enough-nineteen my next birthday. I suppose once I pass twenty, I shall begin to hide my age. Ethel is not twenty yet. When I am so old, I expect to be beyond all nonsense."

"You will never be beyond that, Bertha," said Philip, “even if you live to get in a set of false teeth."

The girl bent forward, and catching a bit of his hair, gave it a pull.

"All right," he continued. "I am a man; it will not come away. I pity the I pity the poor fellow that gets into your clutches." "Ah, I shall lead him a pretty dance before I say 'Yes,' she laughed. "They say once you let a man see you care for him yon lose your power over him. Oh, look, Philip; is that not a nice horse? Keep your eyes open. I want to take back something to ride," she continued to Ethna. Such a lovely mare as my sister has! She hunted her all last winter. Do you know how to ride ?"

“Yes; I am not afraid to mount anything," answered Ethna, "I like riding very much."

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"I was getting lessons just before we came over," said Miss Butler. "We had a riding mistress from London, and she was greatly pleased with me. Philip is teaching me to cross the country here, 'tis splendid fun. You Irish are great riders. It was Harry taught my sister to jump. I think that was the way they fell in love with each other."

The time passed away while the light-hearted English girl was giving expression to every thought that flitted through her brain, until they found themselves before the door of the Lodge. A splendid rug lay upon the steps, on which the bride, clothed in perfect costume, was seated; her husband lay at her feet smoking a cigar. Several beautiful dogs lay around; one had his head. laid on the knees of his mistress, while she wound and unwound his silky ears round her slender fingers; some got up, stretched themselves, and stalked gravely towards the advancing ponies; others signified their approval by lazily tapping their tails against the ground.

Harry Moore and his bride advanced to receive the guests; the latter, with that comprehensive glance born of society, taking in all the details of their appearance, the former giving a cordial greeting to the Madam, whom he remembered quite well.

"Every morning I intended going to see you," he said, "but once a man marries he is no longer master of his actions. I'm a warning to all men, dear Madam.".

"Ah, do not tell me such stories," answered the Madam, smiling, "I have experience of the other side."

She was very

The bride led them into the drawingroom. handsome, colder and paler than her sister, with a chill politeness that kept one at an immeasurable distance. The Madam was

so long accustomed to deference and consideration from those with whom she came in contact that a sense of inferiority never oppressed her; but, after the usual stereotyped phrases about the weather, scenery, and journey across the Channel were exhausted, she found it difficult to converse with her hostess. Their lives ran in such different grooves that what interested one was without a particle of interest for the other; the Madam could speak of books, for she was well read; but one cannot rush headlong into literary ways; there was not even a baby to draw them into common ground; so at length she allowed Harry Moore to absorb her attention, and they chatted about old times.

Meantime, Ethna sat near Miss Butler, answering her in monosyllables, feeling miserable, and utterly at a disadvantage. Looking at those refined, aristocratic girls, so pure and pale, impressed her with the conviction that she was a coarse daub beside them. She felt that her cheeks were at that moment the colour of a full-blown peony. She glanced at their hands, as slender and delicate as white flowers, covered with flashing rings; sixes would fit them; she took six three-quarters herself; she had burst the button in one glove; how horribly fat, red, and illshaped the hand seemed! Why did she not put a pin in the glove even, to draw it together?

Philip sat at the other side of Miss Butler, and they entered as usual on a gay war of words; he tried several times to draw Ethna into the conversation, but she merely replied, and took refuge again behind a panoply of proud thoughts. He seemed annoyed for a moment, but at length ceased to address her, and confined his attention to his more agreeable companion.

Cake and wine were brought in, and, when a reasonable time had elapsed, the Madam arose and they took their leave. When the ladies were seated, Philip came back to the drawingroom for his gloves. "Miss Moore is rather good-looking," said the bride, looking languidly out of the window, "but she seems like one always standing on the defensive; bad style."

"She lets off her answers like pistol shots," answered Miss Butler, laughing; "rustic brevity. Philip, I'm sorry I have to go with those turtle doves. I have more fun with you and the ponies."

"We'll give them the slip to-morrow," said Philip, as he left the room.

CHAPTER XI.

ETHNA IS UNAMIABLE.

The Madam chatted so continuously on their homeward route, that her companions were not called upon to fill up any unpleasant silences, or make any great mental exertion.

"Thank goodness the visit is over," she said as she got out of the carriage at the green door, where Nora was waiting with a delighted face. "Perhaps 'tis too late for you to take her out, Philip; another day would do."

“Oh! let him, ganma, 'tisn't late at all," cried Nora despairingly.

"It would be too bad to disappoint her the second time," said Philip. We will go a little way. Will you sit in front, Ethna, you are strong enough to keep her in your lap?"

Ethna obeyed silently. The child was lifted up, laughing with glee as the ponies started and all the bells began to tinkle.

One of the things that stung Ethna, was the habit Philip had of calling her Miss Moore before his friends, and she remarked quickly how he did not hesitate to call Miss Butler by her christian name. She was his cousin, a distant one, of course, still a cousin, and his calling her Ethna would create no surprise. Why did he not do it then? It must be that he wished to make it appear that their intercourse was of the most formal description; her sensitiveness made her instinctively follow his example, but she felt after