POINT-BLANK RANGE.

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He was not more light-he was another shadow; and sorrowfully Rosalie's friends marked where it fell.

But Thornton had hardly taken a seat, and had not at all begun what he had to say, before a little running fire of raps announced Dr. Buffem.

"Confound the light in this room-or the darkness, whichever it is," said the Doctor,-" here am I laying myself up for life on this chair-none too easy a one for the purpose neither. Ah, friend Raynor, how does thee do? and why does thee not have thy rooms prepared for those people who do not carry pocket lanterns ?"

"Thee did not hurt thyself ?" said the Quakeress.

"Hurt myself? of course I did. How many chairs do you suppose I can kick down and not hurt myself? How now, fair Rosalie! methinks the moon suffers an eclipse to-night. Friend Henry, give me thy hand. Friend Thornton, I will perhaps take thine, when I know what thou art here for."

Simply to take my sisters away, sir," said Thornton.

Hum," said the Doctor, and put both his hands behind him. "Friend Raynor, is light one of the things you think people should be deprived of because they occasionally abuse it ?"

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"I think thee is the only person who has abused it to-night, friend Buffem," said the Quakeress quietly. "Now that's what I call point-blank range," said the Doctor, turning to Rosalie. Certainly have killed me only that my weak spot is that of Achilles. Came pretty near being killed, that way. But, Miss Rosalie, how is it that you can sit up to smile ?—

'Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!

Its silly wa's the winds are strewin'!
An' naething now, to big a new ane
O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's winds ensuin',
Baith snell and keen.'

"There are more houses than one in the world, fortunately," said Thornton; "but if you mean to reach one to-night, Rosalie, we had better be moving."

"There is some sense in that remark-a little," said the Doctor, preventing her reply. "There is this quali

fication, you should have been moving some three hours ago."

"I was on drill and could not," said Thornton, a little stiffly.

"I don't see what your being on drill has to do with your sister's going out at an unseasonable time of night,' said the Doctor, taking a pinch of snuff. "Can't, for the life of me.'

"Unseasonable!" said Thornton. "Why, it's only-" "I've got a watch," said the Doctor-" and there's a clock on the mantelpiece. Look here-" and taking up a candle he held it before Rosalie's face. "There's a watch for you, Mr. Clyde-what time o'night does that say ?"

A different hour from the other, Thornton felt; for with the anxious hearing of their talk the weary look had come back again. She was just fit to sit there and be quiet.

"Now listen to me," said the Doctor, "and be reasonable for once in your life. Take leave of these good people-friends, one or both of 'em-kiss your sister for good-night, and be glad of the chance, and then go home with me. I'll answer for it she'll be forthcoming in the morning, and I'll take as good care of you as you deserve. Come! I can't stay here fooling any longer."

"Nor I," said Thornton, getting up.

"Then thee will leave thy sister ?" said the Quakeress with a gratified face.

"Since she chooses to stay," said Thornton. But when he turned towards her and saw that she had risen, the generous feeling prevailed; and replacing her in the arm-chair, he kissed away the words which were on her lips, and told her he was glad to leave her-she was better there.

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My prescription is short," said Dr. Buffem, as he stood with the door in his hand,-" a mere word, Miss Rosalie :

'Take thou of me sweet pillows, sweetest bed,

A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,-
A rosy garland and a weary head,'

-you know what follows."

THE HOTEL.

187

CHAPTER XXIII.

Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.-SHAKSPEARE.

THE sky was covered with clouds when Rosalie took possession of her rooms at the hotel, but there were no clouds on her face; and Thornton admired to see how she could bear to lose and to leave what she enjoyed very much, and take up with any sort of a home. If he had spoken out his whole thought he would have added, "and any sort of a brother;"-he had never felt more inclined to be good company, and never less satisfied with his performance. But Rosalie was satisfied with everything, or seemed so; and had even the skill to hinder all expression of Hulda's regrets for the cat, the greenhouse, and Mr. Raynor.

The rooms were large and handsome, but like other hotel rooms with no individuality of furniture; the windows were too clearly after a public pattern, the doors numbered to distinguish them from those of other people. It was a part of a home, set apart for their use and labelled. Worse still was Thornton's resolve to eat at the public table,-a resolve so fixed, that after some remonstrance Rosalie gave way. But it wearied her exceedingly. Some of her pleasantest times of seeing her brother were lost now; and instead there was the sight and hearing of a crowd of people who came together but to eat and to discuss eatables. Meals over, Thornton was off; and it was just as it happened whether she saw him again for five minutes until the next physical "reunion.' The first morning and the second he did sit with her for a while, and stayed at home one whole evening after tea; but the good habit fell off, and she was as much alone as ever. More alone-for the range of their once pleasant house had been something, where every picture and piece of furniture gave her a word as she went by, and where the whole atmosphere was that of home. Now, whatever

made its way to her senses from without her own room, was strange and depressing. How rarely any foot went along the passage with the free tread of one who walks earnestly in a good pursuit! how few voices spoke except from under a burden or a cloud! The children indeed danced up and down, with the gay spring of a nature that must rebound-touch what it will; but Rosalie looked at Hulda at play in the midst of those hotel chairs, and longed to see her in a setting of green grass and dandelions. But that could not be; though messenger winds were beginning to blow, and the skies looked soft and unbending as from a distant glimpse of the coming spring.

"If people was o' my way o' thinkin'," said Miss Jumps one day, "these here hotels wouldn't make much of a livin';" and Rosalie entirely agreed with her.

"There used to be somethin' going on, home," Martha continued; "and Tom Skiddy was good enough for to talk to by spells; but here with forty men round you, more or less, you don't know which way to turn. And you're just getting as thin as a rail, Miss Rosalie-and Hulda's as peaked as she can stand. What ails us to go back to the old house and look out of the broken windows? there'd be some air there, anyway."

"The broken windows are boarded up, Martha: and as soon as the spring opens we must have painters and masons, and I know not what all, at work."

"They won't have you," said Miss Jumps-"not if you don't pick up astonishin' afore fall. And as for pickin' up here, you might as well smother a chicken in a bag o' corn and then tell him to get fat." "We

"Patience, Martha," Rosalie said with a smile. shall love our own home all the better when we get back to it."

"Don't it spoil your patience to see other folks have too much?" said Miss Jumps,-"'cause it does mine. That's what I said to Tom Skiddy last night; and he was up to telling me that the chance was considerable of my keeping what I had as long as I lived, if that was all. He's stropping his wits a little too much, lately, for want of time."

"What does Tom have to do now, Martha ?" said Hulda. "He don't do anything at the house but sleep there, does he ?"

"I guess that's all he ever did, o' nights," said Miss Jumps. "And if he got through too much of anything other times it was more'n I could find out. I s'pose he runs round after his muskit now and then. A woman would feel smart at that sort o' work. But men'll foller a drum most any place, just as easy as I used to fetch down a swarm of bees with an old tin pan. Only beat hard enough."

The entrance of Thornton, fresh from his part of the cried-down occupation, restricted all further expression of Martha's mind to the peculiar set of her shoulders as she

went off.

"Well, how do you get on here?" said Mr. Clyde as he unbuckled his sword-belt.

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Peacefully," his sister answered with a smile.

"Which would make an end of me, in short order," said Thornton.

"How long is it since peace and war joined hands ?"

Only do each other's work upon some people," said Thornton. "But can you find nothing else in this way of life? I think it is very good for you.'

She smiled a little to think how much he knew what "this of life" was.

way

"It cannot be like home, you know, there is more confinement—I see less of you.'

"See enough of me,

"Not half!"

don't you

"I do not like to quote the proverb, 'Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire,'" said Thornton, "but it really comes up before me."

"Never mind," said his sister,-"you know what Rochefoucauld says, 'Si nous ne nous flattions point nous-mêmes, la flatterie des autres ne nous pourrait nuire.'

"Your tongue is not often dipped in flattery, to do it justice," said Thornton. "A little of the Sweetbrier about that, I think. But I'm afraid if I stayed more at home I should break up the peacefulness."