spiteful eye. Fairthorn made a move at her, which 'tis a pity Waife did
not see--it would have been a study for Caliban. She uttered a little
scream.

"What's the matter?" cried the host.

"Nothing," said she quickly--far too generous to betray the hostile
oddities of the musician. "Sir Isaac was in my way--that was all."

"Another evening we must have Fairthorn's flute," said Darrell. "What a
pity he was not here to-night!--he would have enjoyed such reading--
no one more."

Said Mrs. Morley, "He was here once or twice during the evening; but he
vanished!"

"Vanishing seems his forte," said George.

Darrell looked annoyed. It was his peculiarity to resent any jest,
however slight, against an absent friend; and at that moment his heart
was perhaps more warmed towards Dick Fairthorn than to any man living.
If he had not determined to be as amiable and mild towards his guests as
his nature would permit, probably George might have had the flip of a
sarcasm which would have tingled for a month. But as it was, Darrell
contented himself with saying gravely:

"No, George; Fairthorn's foible is vanishing; his forte is fidelity. If
my fortune were to vanish, Fairthorn would never disappear; and that's
more than I would say if I were a King, and Fairthorn--a Bishop!"