--Shakespeare.

Lord Bromley did not suffer the nocturnal festivities to interfere with
his morning walk, during which he came upon the governess and her pupils
looking as fresh as the dawn.

"I need not ask if you have recovered from last night, Miss Leigh,"
observed he, dryly, as he bowed demurely, with a somewhat conscious air.

"Did you dance?" asked Mabel; "for I heard you come up just after the
stable clock struck one, and the music had been going on for ever so
long."

Now, it might have been half-past eleven when Miss Leigh had professed
herself to Lord Bromley as too ill and tired to dream of dancing. Looking
the consternation she felt at this contradictory piece of evidence, she
remained silent, not daring to raise her eyes.

"Who would have taken you for such an actress!" said the peer, in rather
ambiguous accents.

Bluebell looked up desperately; her expression was ingenuous, but half
imploring.

"Such nerve and command of countenance!" rhapsodized his Lordship, with
the same odd fixed look and sarcastic inflection of voice. "The idea of
the plot so perfectly conceived and played out! Had you much practice--in
Canada."

"I have played in charades and small pieces," wondering how he knew she
had been in Canada.

"But you never _really_ acted till you came to England? How long was that
ago?"

"Some time now," confusedly.

"Nearly two years, perhaps?"

"About that--no, not quite so much," more and more perplexed by his
manner.

"I hope you'll come down, and sing to us to-night. Miss Leigh. I am not
sure I don't prefer that accomplishment for young ladies--it is _safer_."
He turned away, leaving Bluebell in bewilderment.

Kate, recovered by a night's rest, would consent to no more seclusion;
the blow was not much of a disfigurement now, and she was making an
immense fuss over Harry, which suited him well enough to encourage, as he
rather repented the imprudently frequent dances with Geraldine, and felt
embarrassed in her society this morning.

The cousins were sitting on an ottoman, in half-teazing,
half-affectionate discourse, when Bluebell, feeling like a conspirator
of the deepest dye, entered demurely with her pupils. Kate watched Harry
narrowly, who did not appear to have observed their entrance.

"You seem to have forgotten Miss Leigh," she remarked. "Did you not
travel together from Quebec?"

Dutton, somewhat staggered by her correct information, shot a swift
inquiri