"Well done, Infant! I see you have taken every contingency into consideration. I wonder, with such tremendous responsibilities on your shoulders, you aren't afraid to get outside a horse, or trust yourself in a railway-carriage, let alone being a soldier, and running the risk of being shot, if we have a war. Why the deuce didn't you go into the Life Guards or the Blues? Your precious life would have been a deal safer there."

"Now, Bertie, shut up your chaff, and let's discuss the matter rationally. You know" (with an only half-convinced air), "knocking about isn't near so jolly as one fancies."

"I'm not so sure of that," retorts Bertram. "I think you and I have had some jolly times together a great deal more than you're ever likely to have again, if you tie yourself down at one-and-twenty to a girl you'll probably get sick of before a twelvemonth."

"Never!" (with great energy.)

"Fellows of our age," proceeds Bertram, "were never intended to settle down at twenty-one, and go to bed at ten o'clock, and carve for the children, and have family prayers. Look at those jolly old patriarchs, what a time they took to sow their wild oats."

แ

'Oh, yes, and a nice husband one would make for a pretty girl when one was a toothless, bearded, used-up old mummy," retorts Heronmere.

"That's just the time-enjoy your youth, and marry when you want a nurse; you can always get a pretty young woman to have you, if you've lots of tin—at least, that's what Uncle Fred always says when he wants to take a rise out of poor aunt.”

"Your uncle's an old brute, and Mrs. Bertram is an angel," says Heronmere warmly. "I should have liked to throw a decanter at his head two or three times

last night, when he was bullying her so shamefully."

"Oh! I think she likes it at least, she's so used to it, I'm sure she'd miss it dreadfully if he took it into his head to leave it off for a day or two. But there's no fear of that, as long as he keeps on eating and drinking, and laying in gout for himself as he does."

"What a dreadful thing to get old! Poor old beggars! I suppose dinner is the only thing they've got to look forward to."

"I suppose so. But you haven't told me yet how you got on to-day. Have you paved the way at all?"

"Well, you know" (doubtfully), “it isn't exactly a very easy thing when a girl's engaged to your cousin

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you

So I thought last night" (drily), “but didn't seem to see it then."

"To-morrow, perhaps," says Heronmere,

putting his horse into a gallop on the

smooth turf, "I'll race you from here to the Marquis of Granby for a fiver."

"Done!" and off the two good-looking young fellows fly on their thoroughbreds, at a speed that would have made Uncle Fred swear for a month, if he could only have seen them. Within a hundred yards of the Granby, they are neck and neck; Heronmere pulls his horse slightly-he doesn't want the fiver, and Bertram does.

201

H

CHAPTER X.

HERONMERE'S CONGÉ.

APPINESS is selfish, and while every

thing had gone smoothly with Dolores, she had thought very little about Captain Etherege and his sister. But since sad hours have taken the place of glad ones, they have been a great deal in her thoughts, and she feels a strong desire to hear something about them. So one day she writes a letter to Mary Etherege, quite a short letter, and scarcely speaking of herself, but asking news of both her old friends. A few days after, she receives an answer. It is very kind; in it there is no allusion to the past. Mary writes