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It is an old song she chooses, and simple as old, and sweet as simple. I almost forget the words now, but I know it runs in this wise: "Wait till to-morrow evening, and see if you will feel as you do now. Your cheerful complaisance in this matter is much to be admired. And Nicholas should be grateful But I think you will find one dose of Lady Lilias and her ancient Briton sufficient for your lifetime." "Welcome," said the man, and he motioned to a place where the stranger should sit..

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"You will come first and see Philippa?" she says, in a slow peculiar tone that sounds as if it had been dug up and is quite an antique in its own way. It savors of dust and feudal days. Every one says he or she will be delighted, and all try to look as if the entire hope of their existence is centred in the thought that they shall soon lay longing eyes on Philippa,—whose name in reality is Anne, but who has been rechristened by her enterprising sister. Anne is all very well for everyday life, or for Bluebeard's sister-in-law; but Philippa is art of the very highest description. So Philippa she is, poor soul, whether she likes it or not. "Why, Spice, of course," opening her eyes. "Didn't you know. Why, what else could I mean?" "Your advice is excellent," says he, sneeringly. Then suddenly he stops short before her, and breaks out vehemently,—— Some time elapses before he speaks again, and Mona is almost hoping he may have fallen into a quiet slumber, when he opens his eyes and says, regretfully,—.