ust not praise my brother,' and smiled
a smile which was meant to mean: 'I think with you, and thank you, and
love you for admiring him.'

Had Lady Racial joined the smile and spoken with animation afterwards,
the Countess would have shuddered and had chills of dread. As it was,
she was passably content. Lady Racial slightly dimpled her cheek, for
courtesy's sake, and then looked gravely on the ground. This was no
promise; it was even an indication (as the Countess read her), of
something beyond suspicion in the lady's mind; but it was a sign of
delicacy, and a sign that her feelings had been touched, from which a
truce might be reckoned on, and no betrayal feared.

She heard it said that the match was for honour and glory. A match of
two days' duration under a broiling sun, all for honour and glory! Was
it not enough to make her despise the games of men? For something better
she played. Her game was for one hundred thousand pounds, the happiness
of her brother, and the concealment of a horror. To win a game like that
was worth the trouble. Whether she would have continued her efforts,
had she known that the name of Evan Harrington was then blazing on a
shop-front in Lymport, I cannot tell. The possessor of the name was in
love, and did not reflect.

Smiling adieu to the ladies, bowing to the gentlemen, and apprehending
all the homage they would pour out to her condescending beauty when she
had left them, the Countess's graceful hand gave the signal for Beckley.

She stopped the coachman ere the wheels had rolled off the muffling
turf, to enjoy one glimpse of Evan and Rose riding together, with the
little maid on her pony in the rear. How suitable they seemed! how
happy! She had brought them together after many difficulties--might it
not be? It was surely a thing to be hoped for!

Rose, galloping freshly, was saying to Evan: 'Why did you cut off your
moustache?'

He, neck and neck with her, replied: 'You complained of it in Portugal.'

And she: 'Portugal's old times now to me--and I always love old times.
I'm sorry! And, oh, Evan! did you really do it for me?'

And really, just then, flying through the air, close to the darling of
his heart, he had not the courage to spoil that delicious question, but
dallying with the lie, he looked in her eyes lingeringly.

This picture the Countess contemplated. Close to her carriage two young
gentlemen-cricketers were strolling, while Fallow field gained breath to
decide w