ever heard the like of this? Sir Everard Kingsland, get
up. I forgive you everything for this superhuman joke. I haven't had
such a laugh for a month. For goodness' sake get up, and don't be a
goose!"

The young baronet sprung to his feet, furious with mortification and
rage.

"Miss Hunsden--"

"Oh, don't!" cried Harriet, in a second paroxysm. "Don't make me
rupture an artery. Love me?--worship me? Why, you ridiculous thing!
you haven't known me two days altogether!"

He turned away without speaking a word.

"And then you're engaged to Lady Louise! Every one says so, and I am
sure it looks like it."

"I am not engaged to Lady Louise."

He said those words huskily, and he could say no more.

Miss Hunsden tried to look grave, but her mouth twitched. The sense of
the ludicrous overcame her sense of decorum, and again she laughed
until the tears stood in her eyes.

"Oh, I shall die!" in a faint whisper. "My sides ache. I beg your
pardon, Sir Everard; but indeed I can not help it. It is so funny!"

"So I perceive. Good-morning, Miss Hunsden."

"And now you are angry. Why, Sir Everard!" catching for the first time
a glimpse of his deathly white face, "I didn't think you felt like
this. Oh! I beg your pardon with all my heart for laughing. I
believe I should laugh on the scaffold. It's dreadfully vulgar, but it
was born with me, I'm afraid. Did I gallop right into your heart's
best affections at the fox-hunt? Why, I thought I shocked you
dreadfully. I know I tried to. Won't you shake hands, Sir Everard,
and part friends?"

"Miss Hunsden will always find me her friend if she ever needs one.
Farewell!"

Again he was turning away. He would not touch the proffered palm. He
was so deathly white, and his voice shook so, that the hot tears rushed
into the impetuous Harrie's eyes.

"I am so sorry," she said, with the simple humility of a little child.
"Please forgive me, Sir Everard. I know it was horrid of me to laugh;
but you don't really care for me, you know. You only think you do; and
I--oh! I'm only a flighty little girl of seventeen, and I don't love
anybody in the world but papa, and I never mean to be married--at
least, not for ages to come. Do forgive me."

He bowed low, but he would neither answer nor take her hand. He was
far too deeply hurt.

Before she could speak again he was gone.

"And he's as mad as a hatter!" said Harrie, ruefully. "Oh, dear, dear!
what torments m