pose there is something of the coquette in her nature; she must know quite well the effect she is producing upon him; there is no mistaking the expression of his eyes. But she looks round more often; she lets her eyes linger for more than a moment on his face; her voice falls into a lower, more caressing cadence. I wonder if the woman breathes who can see a man falling head over ears in love with her, and honestly try to prevent it? (It will be clearly understood, of course, that I mean a man whose admiration is a credit to her.) I know Milly could not; she was as insatiable of homage as an Eastern Queen.

Looking back to it, Guy thinks this the happiest hour of his whole life; an entire sense of bien-être pervades him, his whole frame seems possessed of a happy vitality -of a keen capacity for love and enjoy. ment. The curtain falls on the second

act. Mrs. Vivian complains of the heat, and her companion suggests that she shall walk as far as the foyer. Mrs. Vivian accedes; will Milly go too? No; Milly is very well where she is. If Guy could be happier than he already is, it is when the box door closes and leaves him alone with Mrs. Scarlett. Who does not know the thrill of delight with which one sees one's best friend depart, if one is left alone with the dear one? Not a word may be said, not even a look exchanged, but a third person might welcomely see and hear; but there is a wonderful pleasure in the bare fact of being alone together.

Milly is vaguely conscious that what this man feels for her is not a transient passion or admiration (this is not the first time her magnetic power has exercised itself), and she can foresee the end. She wonders at it herself. She has met many

men who have admired, liked, loved her, but only once before a man who has been drawn to her at once, like a needle to the magnet, with this strange power. It is strange, since it is not a power that she can either compel or constrain. Nay, it is quite possible that, when she would give the world to have it at her command, it would fail her. She likes Guy; he is pleasing to her. Looks, birth, everything are in his favour, and she loves to be adored. Milly can no more forego the pleasure of being loved than the flame can extinguish itself to keep the moth from self-immolation. After all, I don't suppose it would be of the slightest use for a woman to try to make herself displeasing in the eyes of the man who is in love with her; indeed, it is the common lot of poor humanity to love best what treats it the

worst.

Guy is immensely happy sitting looking into his companion's face, and listening to her bright, charming voice. Their conversation is not particularly brilliant; they do not "talk fireworks," as a newspaper critic writes; but it is very pleasant, and there is now and then a pause, almost pleasanter still. Guy's attention, as he leans towards his companion, is divided between the slender white hands, sparkling with diamonds, and two brighter jewels that shine and kindle under the low arched brows. An irresistible impulse seizes him; as he conceives the thought his heart throbs. What a terrible awe a brave man has of a pure woman! for all brave, honest men believe in women.

His strong young voice trembles as he leans nearer towards her, and says, with an earnestness which could not be greater if he were entreating for the most mighty boon.

"May I ask you a very great favour ?"

Milly is the least bit embarrassed, but she answers archly,

"You may certainly ask."

"Might I-(very humbly in an abashed whisper)" might I kiss your hand ?"

Milly feels considerably relieved. This tremendous favour, the bare asking of which makes him tremble, is only permission to perform an act of homage, such as the mightiest sovereigns are in the habit of receiving.

Certainly you may," she makes answer with a gay little laugh; and he takes it with unutterable reverence, as if it were some dainty bit of china, that might slip from his hand and shiver into a thousand pieces.

And what a hand it is-how fragile, and yet what a marvellous magnetic power it has! He feels the touch of it in every fibre as it lies for a moment in his; then he stoops his lips reverently to it.