trains and connecting boats, and a guide-book was
fruitlessly hunted for.

"Oh, I recollect," said Mrs. Rolleston, suddenly; "I put it in the
table-drawer in the next room,--right-hand drawer, Bertie," as he went to
fetch it. He found a little more than he sought, for there, alone, with
every appearance of being caught, was Bluebell. Du Meresq would, perhaps,
have avoided the _contretemps_, had he been prepared for it. As it was
he advanced towards her, and, clasping her in his arms, kissed the cheek
from which every ray of colour had vanished, and said, tenderly,--"What
has turned my Bluebell into a Lily?"

"I have heard something. I want to ask you a question," came out almost
mechanically.

Du Meresq had not expected so serious an answer to a _banalite_, and his
countenance altered.

"Why are you so grave, Bluebell? You take life too seriously, my child.
A young beauty like you need never be unhappy--only make other people
so."

But his theories were no longer taken as gospel.

"Oh, I am quite happy," said she, with an involuntary ironical infusion
in her voice, "but I don't often see you alone, Bertie, and there are one
or two things I want to ask you."

"We'll soon square that", said Du Meresq carelessly, "What do you think
of Lascelles?"

"Think of him?" repeated Bluebell, with passion "What should I think of
him? I don't care if he dies to morrow!"

"What, a good looking fellow like that?" said Du Meresq, jestingly, "and
he admires you awfully." What a flash of those violet eyes--regular blue
lightning! But a sudden gush of tears extinguished it, and, breaking from
him, Bluebell rushed out of the room.

A look of extreme annoyance came over his face and he whistled
thoughtfully. Lascelles shouting his name, burst into the room.

"Where is that book? 'His only books were women's looks, and folly all
they taught him.' Oh Bertie I fear me you are a sly dog."

"What the devil do you mean?" said Du Meresq with much irritation.

"What do you? Keeping me here all day, while you are spooning the pretty
companion. She bolted out of this so quick,--nearly ran into my arms, and
seemed taking on shocking. Oh, you strangely ammoral young man!"

"By Jove!" said Du Meresq, "it is lucky it was only you. Well, let us be
off now, and shut up, there's a good fellow."

CHAPTER XXI.

A PERILOUS SAIL.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting,
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star
Hath had