CHAPTER IV.

MISUNDERSTANDING AND RECONCILIATION-A PLEASANT EVENING AND A LETTER.

How long Ernest might have gone on cultivating Miss Fairweather's acquaintance under the present exciting difficulties (for Mrs. Grainger had never called as he expected she would have done on his mother), it is impossible to say, but for one of those chance occurrences which, threatening to break off all acquaintance, had the effect of more closely cementing it.

At an hour in the afternoon earlier than they were expected to tea, both young ladies called and Ernest was both surprised and mortified to hear Miss Fairweather excuse herself from the

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engagement she had made on the previous day, without assigning (in his opinion) any adequate cause, for they were going to the concert with Alec Flaccid and some of his sisters. Fairweather did say something about not being able to quit home, owing to Mrs. Grainger's absence, till a certain hour; but Ernest's pride had taken fire, and was at no particular pains to conceal his opinion of conduct so nonchalante as Miss Fairweather's appeared to be. Mrs. Basil did not appear to mind it and gave the ladies a cordial invitation for the next disengaged evening, which happened to be Friday, but Ernest did not second it and only expressed a cold regret" that Miss Fairweather should think fit to permit a subsequent engagement to interfere with a previous one."

"You will not care to go to the concert now Ernest," said his mother. But in this she was mistaken. Mr. Basil was just enough in love with Miss Fairweather to take a pleasure in resenting her conduct and he determined to go to the concert to pique her if possible. He

could not avoid noticing her and Miss Lawrence when he entered and replied with a stately bow to their recognition.

Why did Mr. Basil find so much to say that evening to his next door neighbour, Miss Greenshields. Why did he raise his voice in expressing his admiration of the principal singer, a tall dark Italian. Why did he smile and look so particularly pleased and engrossed in his tête-à-tête, when Miss Fairweather turned her head from Mr. Flaccid, who did not appear to be making himself very agreeable. And why did he salute Miss Fairweather with such a cold, "I hope you have been amused," at the expiration of the concert.

The whole of the next day, Wednesday, he still felt indignant. He thought it very probable that his acquaintance with Miss Fairweather was at an end, and “he could not help it if it was." The next day his insulted majesty began to be somewhat appeased: his heart began to soften and relent. After all it would be a pity to lose such a pleasant acquaintance

for such a trifle, and Friday was spent in one continued conflict between hope and fear, as to whether they would accept his mother's invitation for that evening.

Six o'clock struck and Mrs. Basil and her son sat one on each side of the table with the tea-tray between them. The calmness of Ernest's voice offered no clue to the disappointment of his mind as he said

Depend upon it my mother they will not come. They have taken offence in their turn, and my acquaintance with Miss Fairweather is at an end." Just then the door-bell rang: a moment of cruel suspense intervened, and Ernest was astonished at his own feelings of delight when he recognized Miss Fairweather's voice. How would she meet him, would she be angry or reserved, would she quiz or scold him?

Both young ladies (how beautiful they seemed on that evening to Ernest) met his profferred hand with their usual frankness. There seemed to be a tacit agreement that no explanation was required, and that they were

to be all as good friends as ever. They sat down to tea quite a merry party, Ernest and Miss Fairweather seeming to vie with one another which could be in the highest spirits. Long afterwards did he remember that happy evening, with its rational conversation and music.

"Do you know, I begin to think, Mr. Basil, that a share of romance is not such an unfortunate component of our characters as the worldlings would make us believe. What a dreary thing it would be if we could not take refuge sometimes from a world of propriety and money-making, in fairy-land. Those dreadful matter-of-fact people, what have they to fall back upon in the hour of disappointment when they discover that their world of reality is at an end, and that they perhaps are the most foolish of dreamers? I am beginning to think, and some day shall dare to tell Mrs, Grainger that I glory in a heart, and would rather be Undine with a soul than Undine without."