"Since I couldn't go, you came, St. Denys," he said, “the very person I was wishing to see. You must allow me to congratulate you on your excellent management of invalids. You should take out letters overt for the art.”

"That palm, Marc, must be laid at Miss Miriam's feet."

"O, she is a perfect Hygeia, begging her pardon for the heathenism," he rejoined." But strength is needed, Sir Rohan," he added, returning to the charge. "You remind me of the prayer of an old Methodist friend of mine, for his dissolute son: 'O Lord, take my son John and shake him over—' a place I'd mention if your polite ears were not here, Miss Miriam-but, O Lord, hold on thy grip!' And I should say the Lord had taken the wrong person."

“An old story, Mr. Arundel," said Miriam, laughing. "I was boasting once to Sir Rohan your historical powers, but this seems rather of the lyric order."

of

"So! Are we never to sing truce?"

"O, that's no matter! But when will you tell us something to make our hair stand on end, as Nell and Nan say? Something really tingling

be fewer opportunities of ambush; and now that Miriam's fortune was probably secured, there could be less motive.”

"With only a convalescent as companion, and in so gloomy a house," said he, "my friends will have to call too largely on their inner sunshine."

"That is one of the inexhaustible things," replied Miriam. "The more you use it, the

more there is of it."

"Nevertheless, Miss Miriam," said Arundel, "you do not illustrate your assertion. Where is all your gayety gone- Quips and cranks and wanton wiles?' Your spirits are as still now as they were exuberant a year ago."

"Not spirits but manners; one is not so happy when boisterous," she returned.

But at Arundel's remark, Sir Rohan threw his searching glance at Miriam, to question if it were a fact. True, he had himself observed that her ways were more quiet than before, that only now and then the blithe roysterer broke from a cloud of mild proprieties, that the once sudden angles of her motions had rounded themselves into curves of a slow grace: she scarcely

spoke so much, nor was her laugh so loud, nor was it always to be known which way she went, as formerly, by her scattered properties. But her brow was clear, her smile sweet; no, it was not change, but development. Do we not always accumulate so slowly, so gradually, that the process seems imperceptible—emotions and experiences for a new phase of life, and wait for some sudden event to give them crystallization or destiny? So it had been with Miriam, he thought; and so, while away from him, she had passed in a beautiful efflorescence from child to woman. She seemed to him too rich in some real happiness, to bubble up with an effervescence of joyousness. She had reached the first period of self-consciousness, a period as full of bliss as of pain. The heir apparent to so regal bounty, as this perfect creature must be, need not hasten to assume her crown and display the dazzle of its gems, he thought.

"Moreover," resumed Miriam, a little aside, to Marc, while he thus meditated,

triflingly stunned by your agreeability."

may be

"Ah? I did not think of claiming any share

in so delightful a transformation."

M

"Now you are going to be rude, Mr. Arundel!" she said, half pouting.

Arundel looked at her a moment with a peculiar expression, then, without replying, startled Sir Rohan by exclaiming, "Half-past four! Do you ever dine here, or do you live on the ambrosia of. I must bid you good morning, Sir Rohan. I shall see you soon again, St. Denys."

"Once in a while we dine," said Sir Rohan, “Will you stay and try potluck? It would give us much pleasure."

Why, no, sir; but let me hope that at some other time I may, Arab fashion, eat your salt."

And he turned to go, first exchanging a few low words with St. Denys.

MIRIA

XIV.

MIRIAM'S KINGDOM.

IRIAM had slipped from the room, but as Arundel stepped into the hall he heard her light footfall, and in a moment more was beside her again.

"I brought you this bouquet, Miss Miriam," he said, notwithstanding he could see the overflowing greenhouse as he stood, "and was so ungallant as to forget about it. It is faded now, yet perhaps you will take it;" and he offered it with a glance and gesture that broadly told of a heart offered anew with it.

Miriam hesitated a moment, then receiving them, said, "Thank you for your flowers."

"And the heart goes for nothing?" he exclaimed.

"No, no, Marc, do not speak so; you know we are to be friends.”