od rule of open, instant explanations? But Evan's
heart was stern to his love. Not only had she, by not coming, shown her
doubt of him,--she had betrayed him!

Between the Countess, Melville, Sir John, and the Duke, an animated
dialogue was going on, over which Miss Current played like a lively
iris. They could not part with the Countess. Melville said he should
be left stranded, and numerous pretty things were uttered by other
gentlemen: by the women not a word. Glancing from certain of them
lingeringly to her admirers, the Countess smiled her thanks, and then
Andrew, pressed to remain, said he was willing and happy, and so forth;
and it seemed that her admirers had prevailed over her reluctance, for
the Countess ended her little protests with a vanquished bow. Then there
was a gradual rising from table. Evan pressed Lady Jocelyn's hand, and
turning from her bent his head to Sir Franks, who, without offering
an exchange of cordialities, said, at arm's length: 'Good-bye, sir.'
Melville also gave him that greeting stiffly. Harry was perceived to
rush to the other end of the room, in quest of a fly apparently. Poor
Caroline's heart ached for her brother, to see him standing there in the
shadow of many faces. But he was not left to stand alone. Andrew quitted
the circle of Sir John, Seymour Jocelyn, Mr. George Uplift, and others,
and linked his arm to Evan's. Rose had gone. While Evan looked for her
despairingly to say his last word and hear her voice once more, Sir
Franks said to his wife:

'See that Rose keeps up-stairs.'

'I want to speak to her,' was her ladyship's answer, and she moved to
the door.

Evan made way for her, bowing.

'You will be ready at half-past eleven, Louisa,' he said, with calm
distinctness, and passed from that purgatory.

Now honest Andrew attributed the treatment Evan met with to the exposure
of yesterday. He was frantic with democratic disgust.

'Why the devil don't they serve me like that; eh? 'Cause I got a few
coppers! There, Van! I'm a man of peace; but if you'll call any man
of 'em out I'll stand your second--'pon my soul, I will. They must be
cowards, so there isn't much to fear. Confound the fellows, I tell 'em
every day I'm the son of a cobbler, and egad, they grow civiller. What
do they mean? Are cobblers ranked over tailors?'

'Perhaps that's it,' said Evan.

'Hang your gentlemen!' Andrew cried.

'Let us have breakfast first,' uttered a melancholy voice near them in
the p