ng towards me coaxingly,
he said, softly, "_Do_ content me, Lucy."

And I would have contented, or, at least, I would clearly have
enlightened him, and taught him well never again to expect of me the
part of officious soubrette in a love drama; when, following his, soft,
eager, murmur, meeting almost his pleading, mellow--"_Do_ content me,
Lucy!" a sharp hiss pierced my ear on the other side.

"Petite chatte, doucerette, coquette!" sibillated the sudden
boa-constrictor; "vous avez l'air bien triste, soumis, reveur, mais
vous ne l'etes pas: c'est moi qui vous le dis: Sauvage! la flamme a
l'ame, l'eclair aux yeux!"

"Oui; j'ai la flamme a l'ame, et je dois l'avoir!" retorted I, turning
in just wrath: but Professor Emanuel had hissed his insult and was gone.

The worst of the matter was, that Dr. Bretton, whose ears, as I have
said, were quick and fine, caught every word of this apostrophe; he put
his handkerchief to his face, and laughed till he shook.

"Well done, Lucy," cried he; "capital! petite chatte, petite coquette!
Oh, I must tell my mother! Is it true, Lucy, or half-true? I believe it
is: you redden to the colour of Miss Fanshawe's gown. And really, by my
word, now I examine him, that is the same little man who was so savage
with you at the concert: the very same, and in his soul he is frantic
at this moment because he sees me laughing. Oh! I must tease him."

And Graham, yielding to his bent for mischief, laughed, jested, and
whispered on till I could bear no more, and my eyes filled.

Suddenly he was sobered: a vacant space appeared near Miss de
Bassompierre; the circle surrounding her seemed about to dissolve. This
movement was instantly caught by Graham's eye--ever-vigilant, even
while laughing; he rose, took his courage in both hands, crossed the
room, and made the advantage his own. Dr. John, throughout his whole
life, was a man of luck--a man of success. And why? Because he had the
eye to see his opportunity, the heart to prompt to well-timed action,
the nerve to consummate a perfect work. And no tyrant-passion dragged
him back; no enthusiasms, no foibles encumbered his way. How well he
looked at this very moment! When Paulina looked up as he reached her
side, her glance mingled at once with an encountering glance, animated,
yet modest; his colour, as he spoke to her, became half a blush, half a
glow. He stood in her presence brave and bashful: subdued and
unobtrusive, yet decided in his purpose and