me to condemn your honest indignation-but | much usually in the summer half; but when let us not stoop to be bullies and persecutors. cricket, and hockey, and trapball were To my mind, a coward is an object of com- stopped, love came regularly in. It happened passion, not of resentment. Nature dozed to be highly fashionable at the time of over his composition, and omitted the most Madonna's appearance, having recently recommon and familiar ingredient of our mixed ceived an immense impulse from the arrival humanity. I have," added the kind-hearted at Miss Billiter's, Pallas-House Academy, of cock, "no title to dictate lines of conduct three new pupils, all pretty. to the junior division; but I will say this, whoever shows consideration to this unlucky stranger, is the friend of Robert Lindsay." Pallas-House was so capitally close to us that, by great skill and strength, a cricketball might be propelled over an immense wall, into their playground. It was a rum Boys are queer animals. No one would old house, with two little turrets at one end believe it possible, that, after the scene of the (that nearest us), one of which was called morning, Madonna would become, by bed- the penitentiary, and used as a place of contime, one of the most popular fellows in the finement for pupils in disgrace. We saw (at school! By Jove, he was! When he re- different times, of course), lots of little covered his spirits a little, we began to find golden-haired captives bobbing about in this out (fighting aside) what a jolly chap he was cage, sometimes playing with a smuggled -gay, generous-with altogether the sweet- doll, sometimes trying to relieve the monotest temper I ever knew; he didn't know ony of prison-life by killing flies, or other what malice was and would have been on good terms, even with Bathurst. The latter, however, like a sneaking bully as he was, never from that day forth let slip an opportunity of annoying and insulting poor Madonna. He made him a sort of fag, often struck him, and more than once spat in his face. On these occasions, Madonna's eyes would light up with the same strange fire we noticed before; but he never struck again, and seemed to accept the necessity of submitting to every indignity, as the inevitable and only alternative of his not fighting. I'm now going back to the day of Madon-short to catch it; the packet descended lower na's arrival. innocent pastime. We tried to establish a system of communication by signal, but it failed. One ingenious boy thought he had hit upon a method of conveying relief and sympathy in its sweetest form-sugar-candy. A small parcel was carefully made up, and attached to the tail of a kite, the wind being fair for the penitentiary, and the prisoner on the alert; the kite was dropped gradually down the wind till it reached the necessary point, then suddenly loosed, in the expectation that the tail would drop past the prisonwindow. It did so, with the greatest accuracy, but the small prisoner's arm was too than was intended, and flop it went right His bed was in a large room, in which I, through the window of Miss Billiter's and a whole lot of other chaps-fourteen, I study! Kites were stopped for the rest of think-already slept. And after old Mop- the half. kins, the spoony usher, had taken away the candle, we began to talk as usual. Madonna was rather silent. "I say you name?" To go back to our bedroom chat. A sigh from Madonna was the next sound audible. "Tell us all about it, old chap?" said a new boy-what's your voice from an adjacent couch, in a mock sympathetic tone. "Madonna!" said his next neighbor. "A penny for your thoughts. I bet I know what they are. "Tell me," said Madonna, who was sitting up in bed, swinging his nightcap, "are any of you fellows in love? A perfect volley of affirmatives replied. Love, you must know, was a sort of epidemic at Styles' that is to say, it came in, at intervals, with other games. There wasn't "If you won't make fun of it," replied Madonna. "It's no laughing matter, I can tell you. I've seen a good deal of the sort of thing. I've had much sorrow." "Have you, though? I shouldn't have thought it, to look at you," squeaked Poppy Purcell, across seven other chaps. What's she like?" nine times, I think, with all sorts of women | evidently one of her very earliest efforts at or "This is to give notis that I have promessed to be your true-love and when I groe up I "A fellow-them,"-put in Matilda Lyon will mary you if you like and to be your (whose name was Matthew). "I fear, Ma-Dutiful wife till death and if not I would donna, those precious eyes of yours have rather go to my mother"You believe me, much to answer for." "O, of course! "What's her name?" "How old?" "Dark or fair?" 66 Ringlets?" demanded several beds, the room becoming much interested. "Eleanor Wilton," said Madonna, in a low voice. "She's an orphan, a kind of "Dear sir, "ELEANOR WILTON." We thought the conclusion rather stiff, considering the frankness of the foregoing portion; but Madonna explained that it was to be regarded rather in the light of a formal instrument than as a warm expression of feeling. Certainly, if seed-cakes, mince and other pies, and macaroons speak the language of love, Madonna's account of his lady's devotion was fully corroborated. Every week parcels were arriving, containing such articles as the aforesaid, and covered with the strictest and most earnest invocations to the fifth cousin of mine, sixteen times removed. Regularly booked, sir. Why not? I've had my swing. I've done. I can never love again, after Eleanor. And she is a darling, I promise you! " —as well she might, the little darling!—to forward these proofs of attachment to her chosen lord. But a change was destined to come over Madonna. One fatal half-holiday, it so happened that, in returning home from playing cricket on the neighboring downs, we met the establishment of Pallas-House in full procession. The usual file-fire of glances was exchanged, as the two trains swept past each other on opposite sides of the road, but only one but the love-wasted, used-up Madonna ? casualty occurred; and who should that be We further gathered from the heart-worn Madonna, that his present lady-love was, in appearance, precisely his opposite, having large night-black eyes and raven hair, colorless cheeks, dark shades under the eyes, sad, dreamy expression, &c., &c. In short, the lover drew a very interesting and poetic pic-pupil, the most exquisite little fairy you can Tripping at the governess's side was a new ture of his lady, and concluded by assuring conceive. Don't think I am romancing, us that her attachment to himself, however when I declare to you that, in all my lifeunmerited, approached to adoration. and I've seen something (said Master Balbeautiful human creatures than Madonna four), knocking about the world-two more Bright and Augusta Grosvenor (for that, we soon learned, was the new girl's name) I rich, brown, silky hair, eyes that glittered never beheld. She had a perfect cataract of As for the engagement, he certainly showed us, next day, a paper written by his beloved, which the constant youth wore (in a small velvet case, like a needle-book) next his heart. It was to the following effect, written upon pencil es, only half rubbed out, and was like stars, and she walked with the air of a little princess. I never saw his attention awakened but to one experiment, and that was when the Poppy,' ," faltered Madonna, who was whole room took hands, and the same walking with Purcell, catching his compan-electric shock that paralysed Madonna's "I've seen my fate." elbow, elicited a scream from Augusta Grosvenor. ion's arm, ball?" Madonna answered (in substance) that no amount of lollipops could minister effectually to a mind diseased; that it was, in fact, all over with him; that he never loved before, and, finally, that he could be content to perish in the course of that afternoon, if his doing so might afford even a momentary gratification to the object of his unquenchable passion. On being reminded of his engagement to Eleanor Wilton, Madonna replied, with some warmth, that he was tired of her childish homage, and should take an early opportunity of pointing out to that young lady some more eligible investment for her affections; and finding, on arriving at home, a plum cake of unusual dimensions, he divided it among us, with a sort of disdainful pity, not reserving a crumb for himself. Perhaps, if he had known it would be the last love-offering, save one, he was ever to receive from that source, he might have been less generous. A strange thing was now about to occur. I think it was about three weeks after our first meeting with Augusta, that the school one day went out to walk. At the first turn in the road we came pounce upon the establishment of Pallas-House. The schools met. As they did so, I felt my arm squeezed hard by Madonna, with whom I walked, and heard him draw in his breath as one in terrified surprise. At that instant, Augusta Grosvenor passed. By her side there walked a little girl, with jet-black hair, small pale face, and the largest eyes I ever saw. Those eyes she fixed upon Madonna with an expression that haunted me-I don't know why-for days and days. It's foolish to say days; for, to this very moment, I can recall it, and I see it now. I knew, without ever having seen her, that this was Madonna's little true-love, Eleanor Wilton. We walked on in silence, Madonna amazed and bewildered as though he had seen a little spirit. In truth, she had passed us almost like one. I don't remember that we ever talked upon the subject. I did not know how Madonna might receive it, and, as I saw he was really very unhappy, I thought it best to say nothing. He moped about the school and playground, a totally changed being, and so provoked Alf Bathurst by his apathy, or, as Alf called it, sulkiness, that the latter tyrannized over and worried him in every possible manner. It was pitiable and disgusting to see. O, if I had but been two years older! I wouldNo matter. 1 won't bother you with all the extravagancies committed by poor Madonna while suffering from this severe attack. Positively, the boy scarcely ate or slept. He seemed to live upon the thought of this little fairy, and nothing else. As it happened, he saw her several times in a week-a series of lectures upon scientific subjects were being delivered at the public rooms; and these were attended by detachments from both the schools, in which the lovers were included. I say lovers, because, either attracted by One day, Alf struck Madonna a severe his uncommon beauty or his speaking gaze, blow in the face. The flush that followed it or influenced by some odd instinct or other, did not subside as was natural. Headache the little lady seemed fully to comprehend and sickness followed; and the doctor, being the state of our friend's mind, and to accept sent for, directed that Madonna should be his worship with considerable satisfaction. kept apart from the boys, and, if possible, She had a thousand funny little coquettish despatched home. This, with proper precauairs and graces, all directed at Madonna, tions, was done, and we shortly after learned yet all tempered with a most becoming that our schoolfellow was lying at home, haughtiness, which plunged him deeper than attacked with small-pox. ever in love. I should think Madonna must have derived a good deal of information from those lectures. During his absence we saw but little of our fair neighbors, and only heard incidentally, that the little new girl, Eleanor Wilton, was in rather delicate health, and At the end of two months, Madonna re- We all pitied him, and gave him a jolly welcome, pretending not to see any alteration. All but that bully Alf Bathurst. The ill-natured brute, laughed and made fun of him, asking what mamma said now to our pretty face? Who was to be his next love? &c. "Look sharp, you beggar," he added, "and bring me that ball," (flinging it to the other end of the playground). "I'll see if you have forgotten the use of your stumps, anyhow." "Feel it too!" replied Madonna, and dealt him a smack on the face you might have heard at the end of the playground. Bathurst staggered from the blow, and the surprise; but, recovering himself, flew at Madonna like a tiger. Several of us, however, threw ourselves between them. A fight wasn't to be wasted in that slovenly and irregular manner; and it was clear that Madonna's blood was up at last. "You coward!" screamed Alf, over the heads of the crowd," will you fight?" "With the greatest pleasure," replied Madonna, politely-cool as a cucumber. "My mother, sir, is very much of your opinion as to the value of my beauty; and, Tremendous cheering greeted this warlike The fight was arranged to come off, after the school rose at five. Preliminaries were duly settled, seconds chosen (Ophelia and a boy called the Tipton Slasher, from some supposed resemblance to that distinguished gentleman, for Alf; and Poppy Purcell and Matilda Lyon for Madonna); the senior cock, in the handsomest manner, volunteering his services as referee, and this time the mill came fairly off. I suppose, said Master Balfour, with great feeling, that a happier five and forty minutes never fell to the lot of boys, than those we now enjoyed. There we sat in a wide circle, hugging our knees, sucking brandy-balls, cheering, criticising, at the very climax of human happiness. The end, satisfactory as it was, came but too quickly. Never was boy more beautifully and scientifically whopped, than Alf Bathurst. He wore a pulpier look, ever after that polishing he got at the hands of the despised Madonna. It is believed in the school to this hour, that Styles himself witnessed the fight. All I know is, that the curtain of his window was ostentatiously drawn, in a manner to show that he wasn't there, of course; and also that a mysterious order reached the kitchen, directing, without any assignable reason, that tea, which was always served at six, should be delayed twenty minutes. If our suspicions were correct, Styles cal- Bob Lindsay pressed his hand, with tears cocks walk away, arm in arm; the senior, the boy of fifty battles, kindly and patiently commenting upon the noticeable points of the contest; and, farther, explaining to his young brother, the means he had found most efficacious in removing the traces of such encounters. Scarcely less beautiful was it to notice the manner in which the senior cock affected to ignore the fact, that any portion of the cheers that pursued them up the playground, was due to his own manly condescension. But, although victorious in the field, our poor Madonna had other and more painful battles to fight. He had come back apparently as much in love as ever with his little coquettish princess, and, I have no doubt, counted the minutes till his first chance of seeing her. This soon occured. Madonna had leave one day down the town. He came back the image of anguish and despair. He had met the Pallas-House school-and Augusta, looking radiantly beautiful, had turned quickly from him, with a look of such unmistakable horror, surprise, and disgust that he could no longer doubt the effect upon her heart of his altered visage. Eleanor Wilton was not with them. One only chance of reviving her interest in him suggested itself to poor Madonnait wasn't of much use-and one or two fellows of experience whom he consulted, begged him not to risk it. He had brought back with him to school present from his godmother, a beautiful ruby heart set round with small rich brilliants. This Madonna resolved to offer at nis mistress' shrine. In spite of all advice he did so. It went by post, unaccompanied by any communication, excepting only his initials "H. B." We heard no more of that. As for Augusta, although he met her a score of times, she never again turned even a passing look upon her unhappy lover. It seemed as though she had come to a secret resolution not to do so. "Number nineteen-fall out!" growled the sergeant. Madonna accordingly tumbled out, and stood at attention; a worrying position for a heart-broken lover! The sergeant fumbled in his pocket. Madonna's heart stood suddenly still, for it flashed upon his memory that Seargeant Grace was an attendant likewise at PallasHouse, to teach what the Sergeant himself described as " polite walking.' "Look'e, now," said Grace, "I believe I'm a blessed old spoon, for running this yere risk-but darn it all! I couldn't help it-she's such a dear little thing-and I don't think she-she will-March?" concluded the sergeant in a voice of thunder, thrusting into Madonna's hand a small packet. That drill seemed interminable to the anxious lover. At last, "dismiss!" was given, and he darted into the school, and tore open the missive. It was a little box of choice bonbons, and under the lid was written : "Dear, dear boy, I'm glad you are well-I'm not. E. W." "Good little heart!" thought Madonna, with a pang at his own, over and above the disappointment, and quite different from it. She does not turn from me, at least. An interval of a fortnight or so now passed. And I wish, said Master Balfour, that you didn't want to hear any more! I always feel choky somehow, when I talk or think of the marvellous thing that followed. Perhaps you won't believe it, but it's as true as that I'm now sitting here. About three o'clock in the morning, on the second of June, a loud cry that sounded like "Help!" roused us all from our sleep. We started up in bed. The shutters were not closed, and the room was already grey with the coming dawn. The cry had proceeded from Madonna, who was sitting up, like the rest, but motionless, his hands clasped upon his forehead. We asked him if he was ill, and why he had cried out. He made no answer, but took away his hands from his face, and looked so pale and strange, that Purcell was moving away to But one remembrance did arrive for poor Madonna. It came in a queer way. We were marching one day in single file round the playground, under the superintendence of Sergeant Grace, of the Seventh Hussars; a rough chap he was, and stood no non-call the usher. sense. As Madonna mournfully strutted Madonna caught his dress. b: |