the boar's head was duly discussed, and done ample justice to, not only by the biped puppies, but by Penderel and his fellow spaniels. When the Duke of York returned home, he found his affectionate wife sitting up for him, and anxiously awaiting him.

The vigil, the suspense, and the annoyance of having missed all her partis at Lady Castlemaine's, had not improved her looks; but so much the contrary, that her royal spouse began to do what all the rest of the world had done from the first, viz.-wonder what on earth he could ever have seen in her so to flout his royal race.

"Well!" said her Royal Highness.

"Well," responded the Duke, "I hope your Royal Highness"-and he emphasised the words —“ won't take cold sitting up so late. I have just left both their majesty's quite well; elles soupaient, on ne pouvait mieux."

"I think, sir, you might have let me know that a little sooner."

"Oh! my dear, no news, you know, is good news," and he added, as she took up her handcandlestick, and sailed, with rather more sulk than majesty, out of the room; "you also know

"Uneasy sleeps the head that wears a Crown.'"

CHAPTER IX.

T was the beginning of the month of February, 1671, and as each day passed, and the violets became more plentiful, Dorothy became more

cheerful. So thoroughly convinced was she, that even under shelter of poetical license, Gilbert would not have held out a false hope to her, and therefore that they really should meet again in the now fast approaching summer. Not so, her mother and Master Hartsfoot, they thought the time that had elapsed since Gilbert Broderick's most extraordinary and mysterious disappearance without any tangible and bonâ fide explanation of its cause from himself, was becoming quite too long. This desponding view of the matter, however, arose, perhaps, entirely from their own frame of mind, for our minds are always either a Claude glass, steeping every prospect in its own enchanting hue, or else a piece of common dismal black-smoked glass, enabling us to see all our eclipses the more distinctly-but nothing else.

Joseph Barton had that morning made his of

fering of his really exquisitely carved frame and looking-glass after Hollar's design, for Dorothy's boudoir, or, as it was called in those days, "closet." His master had accompanied him to give him courage, and Dorothy had not only accepted the gift most graciously, but really with genuine pleasure and admiration, and told him he must keep out of Mr. Grindling Gibbons' way, not only because two of a trade can never agree, but because artistic rivalry sometimes produced dire consequences. And having dismissed Joseph Barton in the seventh heaven at her praises, and the success of his labours, she playfully caught Master Hartsfoot by the cloak, as he was also beating a retreat.

"Not so fast, and it please you sir, for there is other carving to be done, and you must do it." And so Master Hartsfoot was springed and kept to dinner.

"Good Lord! as Mr. Pepys says," cried Dorothy, as she held up Barton's glass with both hands admiringly against the wall, "to see how soon one do make and break one's vows. There have I been for the last six months vowing that I'd have no more idols, those provoking and disappointing pieces of sham perfection do behave so badly," and she cast a meaning and reproachful look at Hartsfoot, which first made his face wear the Lancastrian roses, and then the snowy

ones of York, which Dorothy pitying him for, yet provoked, added, " yet, despite all my vows, here am I now going to set up an idol of wood, for Mr. Joseph Barton's carving is really beautiful; and what a good glass, too."

"There is a hackneyed, and for that reason somewhat vulgar toast, always given at club and tavern suppers, which I really think might be paraphrased with great truth as a motto for your looking glass, and had I known what he was about I would have made Barton carve it round his handy work," said Hartsfoot.

"What may it be?" asked Dorothy.

"Why, the toast runs, May the evening's amusement always bear the morning's reflection.' But I would have had on the frame of your mirror, Here the evening's amusement always bears the morning's reflection.' "

"Ah! Mr. Flatterer, and what if the evening's amusement has been-as I assure you it very often is-to reflect upon one Master Oliver Hartsfoot, the most churlish and keep aloof and unneighbourly of neighbours, who is such a heathen that he does not know it is written, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' Well, poor pagan, I forgive you, from being perfectly aware that you do that after an inverse fashion, inasmuch as that you do not love yourself at all."

And having hurled this last javelin, she hur

ried off to tell her mother that she had made Master Hartsfoot stay to dinner. And for the rest of the day she was very good and merciful to him, sparing all 'jibes and jests, and every other blush-trap that she usually set for him. They were sitting all three by the firelight, talking of the most indifferent persons and things, and of everybody's business, which is proverbially nobody's business, till they all felt perfectly at their ease, and Master Hartsfoot so brave, that I really don't think that now, he would have ran away had he been left in such imminent danger as to be alone with Mrs. Neville; but Fate was not at that time of day going to make any deviations in his favour, and it is one of her most Mede and Persian laws, that those who have neglected to profit by the THENS, shall have no opportunity of doing so by the "NOWS."

"My dear child," sighed Mrs. Neville, "it is so long since I heard you sing, that I almost forget the sound of your voice. Those who have kept you silent so long have angel choirs to listen to now; so do let me hear once more what I used to think must be very like them."

"I will, dear mother, if you will let me sing to the polythore,* and not ask me to go to the harpsichord, away from your faces and the fire."

"With all my heart; indeed, I prefer the ac

*An instrument that Evelyn describes as being between the harp, lute, and theorbo, and very harmonious.