unconscious, baby-like smiles.

"What are you ladies talking?" said Carryl Ethridge.

"Oh, secrets!" said Belle Trevors. "You are very presuming, sir, to
inquire."

"Mr. Ethridge," said Lillie Ellis, "don't you think it would be nice
to promenade?"

This was said with such a pretty coolness, such a quiet composure, as
showed Miss Lillie to be quite mistress of the situation; there was,
of course, no sort of design in it.

Ethridge offered his arm at once; and the two sauntered to the end of
the veranda, where John Seymour was standing.

The blood rushed in hot currents over him, and he could hear the
beating of his heart: he felt somehow as if the hour of his fate was
coming. He had a wild desire to retreat, and put it off. He looked
over the end of the veranda, with some vague idea of leaping it; but
alas! it was ten feet above ground, and a lover's leap would have only
ticketed him as out of his head. There was nothing for it but to meet
his destiny like a man.

Carryl came up with the lady on his arm; and as he stood there for a
moment, in the coolest, most indifferent tone in the world, said, "Oh!
by the by, Miss Ellis, let me present my friend Mr. Seymour."

[Illustration: "Let me present my friend, Mr. Seymour."]