er wild horses
would ever draw me from this vast, tumultuous, smoky, beloved city of
mine--Alma Mater, indeed, to me, and to scores of men who are your
brothers and mine----"

"Now, look here, Percival," said Rupert, in a slightly wearied tone, "if
you are going to rant and rave, I'll go out. My room is quite at your
disposal, but I am not. I've got a headache. Why don't you go to a
theatre or a music hall, and work off your superfluous energy there by
clapping and shouting applause?"

Percival laughed, but seated himself and spoke in a gentler tone.

"I'll remember your susceptibilities, my friend. Let me stay and smoke,
that's all. Throw a book at my head if I grow too noisy. Or hand me that
'Review' at your elbow. I'll read it and hold my tongue."

He was as good as his word. He read so long and so quietly that Vivian
turned his head at last and addressed him of his own accord.

"What makes your people stay so long abroad?" he said. "Are they going
to stop there all the summer? I never heard that a summer in Italy was a
desirable thing."

"It's Elizabeth's doing," answered Percival, coolly. "She and my father
between them got up an Italian craze; and off they went as soon as ever
she came into that property, dragging the family behind them, all laden
with books on Italian art, and quoting Augustus Hare, Symonds, and
Ruskin indiscriminately. I don't suppose Kitty will have a brain left to
stand on when she comes back again--if ever she does come back."

"What do you mean?" said Rupert, with a sudden deep change of voice.

"I mean--nothing. I mean, if she does not marry an Italian count or an
English adventurer, or catch malaria and die in a swamp."

"Good Heavens, Percival! how can you talk so coolly? One would think
that it was a joke!"

Vivian had risen from his chair, and was standing erect, with a decided
frown upon his brow. Percival glanced at him, and answered lightly.

"Don't make such a pother about nothing. She's all right. They're in a
very healthy place; a little seaside village, where it has been quite
cool, they say, so far. And they will return before long, because they
mean to spend the autumn in Scotland. Yes, they say it is 'quite cool'
at present. Don't see how it can be cool myself; but that's their look
out. They've all been very well, and there's no immediate prospect of
the marriage of either of the girls with an Italian or an English
adventurer; not even of Miss Murray with your hum