LITMIR.BIZ

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tones more eloquent. It was too much; the young man, ardent as herself, and not, in reality, half so timorous, caught fire; and seeing a white, eloquent hand rather near him, caught it, and pressed his warm lips on it in mute adoration and gratitude.

      At this she was scared and offended. “Oh; keep that for the Queen!” cried she, turning scarlet, and tossing her fair head into the air, like a startled stag; and she drew her hand away quickly and decidedly, though not roughly. He stammered a lowly apology—in the very middle of it she said quietly, “Good-bye, Mr. Hardie,” and swept, with a gracious little curtsey, through the doorway, leaving him spell-bound.

      And so the virginal instinct of self-defence carried her off swiftly and cleverly. But none too soon; for, on entering the house, that external composure her two mothers Mesdames Dodd and Nature had taught her, fell from her like a veil, and she fluttered up the stairs to her own room with hot cheeks, and panted there like some wild thing that has been grasped at and grazed. She felt young Hardie's lips upon the palm of her hand plainly; they seemed to linger there still; it was like light but live velvet. This, and the ardent look he had poured into her eyes, set the young creature quivering. Nobody had looked at her so before, and no young gentleman had imprinted living velvet on her hand. She was alarmed, ashamed, and uneasy. What right had he to look at her like that? What shadow of a right to go and kiss her hand? He could not pretend to think she had put it out to be kissed; ladies put forth the back of the hand for that, not the palm. The truth was he was an impudent fellow, and she hated him now, and herself too, for being so simple as to let him talk to her: mamma would not have been so imprudent when she was a girl.

      She would not go down, for she felt there must be something of this kind legibly branded on her face: “Oh! oh! just look at this young lady! She has been letting a young gentleman kiss the palm of her hand; and the feel has not gone off yet; you may see that by her cheeks.”

      But then, poor Edward! she must go down.

      So she put a wet towel to her tell-tale cheeks, and dried them by artistic dabs, avoiding friction, and came downstairs like a mouse, and turned the door-handle noiselessly, and glided into the sitting-room looking so transparent, conscious, and all on fire with beauty and animation, that even Edward was startled, and, in a whisper, bade his mother observe what a pretty girl she was: “Beats all the country girls in a canter.” Mrs. Dodd did look; and, consequently, as soon as ever Edward was gone to Oxford, she said to Julia, “You are feverish, love; you have been excited with all this. You had better go to bed.”

      Julia complied willingly; for she wanted to be alone and think. She retired to her own room, and went the whole day over again; and was happy and sorry, exalted and uneasy, by turns; and ended by excusing Mr. Hardie's escapade, and throwing the blame on herself. She ought to have been more distant; gentlemen were not expected, nor indeed much wanted, to be modest. A little assurance did not misbecome them. “Really, I think it sets them off,” said she to herself.

      Grand total: “What must he think of me?”

      Time gallops in reverie: the town clock struck twelve, and with its iron tongue remorse entered her youthful conscience. Was this obeying mamma? Mamma had said, “Go to bed:” not, “Go upstairs and meditate: upon young gentlemen.” She gave an expressive shake of her fair shoulders, like a swan flapping the water off its downy wings, and so dismissed the subject from her mind.

      Then she said her prayers.

      Then she rose from her knees, and in tones of honey said, “Puss! puss! pretty puss!” and awaited a result.

      Thieves and ghosts she did not believe in, yet credited cats under beds, and thought them neither “harmless” nor “necessary” there.

      After tenderly evoking the dreaded and chimerical quadruped, she proceeded none the less to careful research, especially of cupboards. The door of one resisted, and then yielded with a crack, and blew out the candle. “There now,” said she.

      It was her only light, except her beauty. They allotted each Hebe but one candle, in that ancient burgh. “Well,” she thought, “there is moonlight enough to undress by.” She went to draw back one of the curtains; but in the act she started back with a little scream. There was a tall figure over the way watching the house.

      The moon shone from her side of the street full on him, and in that instant her quick eye recognised Mr. Hardie.

      “Well!” said she aloud, and with an indescribable inflexion; and hid herself swiftly in impenetrable gloom.

      But, after a while, Eve's daughter must have a peep. She stole with infinite caution to one side of the curtain, and made an aperture just big enough for one bright eye. Yes, there he was, motionless. “I'll tell mamma,” said she to him, malignantly, as if the sound could reach him.

      Unconscious of the direful threat, he did not budge.

      She was unaffectedly puzzled at this phenomenon; and, not being the least vain, fell to wondering whether he played the nightly sentinel opposite every lady's window who exchanged civilities within him. “Because, if he does, he is a fool,” said she, promptly. But on reflection, she felt sure he did nothing of the kind habitually, for he had too high an opinion of himself; she had noted that trait in him at a very early stage. She satisfied herself, by cautious examination, that he did not know her room. He was making a temple of the whole lodging. “How ridiculous of him!” Yet he appeared to be happy over it; there was an exalted look in his moonlit face; she seemed now first to see his soul there. She studied his countenance like an inscription, and deciphered each rapt expression that crossed it; and stored them in her memory.

      Twice she left her ambuscade to go to bed, and twice Curiosity, or Something, drew her back. At last, having looked, peered, and peeped, till her feet were cold, and her face the reverse, she informed herself that the foolish Thing had tired her out.

      “Good-night, Mr. Policeman,” said she, pretending to bawl to him. “And oh! Do rain! As hard as ever you can.” With this benevolent aspiration, a little too violent to be sincere, she laid her cheek on her pillow doughtily.

      But her sentinel, when out of sight, had more power to disturb her. She lay and wondered whether he was still there, and what it all meant, and whatever mamma would say; and which of the two, she or he, was the head culprit in this strange performance, to which Earth, she conceived, had seen no parallel; and, above all, what he would do next. Her pulse galloped, and her sleep was broken; and she came down in the morning a little pale. Mrs. Dodd saw it at once, with the quick maternal eye; and moralised: “It is curious; youth is so fond of pleasure; yet pleasure seldom agrees with youth; this little excitement has done your mother good, who is no longer young; but it has been too much for you. I shall be glad to have you back to our quiet home.”

      Ah! Will that home be as tranquil now?

      CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      The long vacation commenced about a month afterwards, and Hardie came to his father's house, to read for honours, unimpeded by university races and college lectures; and the ploughed and penitent one packed up his Aldrich and his Whately, the then authorities in Logic, and brought them home, together with a firm resolution to master that joyous science before the next examination for Smalls in October. But lo! ere he had been an hour at home, he found his things put neatly away in his drawers on the feminine or vertical system—deep strata of waistcoats, strata of trousers, strata of coats, strata of papers—and his Logic gone.

      In the course of the evening he taxed his sister good-humouredly, and asked “What earthly use that book was to her, not wearing curls.”

      “I intend to read it, and study it, and teach you it,” replied Julia, rather languidly—considering the weight of the resolve.

      “Oh, if you have boned it to read, I say no more; the crime will punish itself.”

      “Be serious, Edward, and think of mamma! I cannot sit with my hands before me,

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