f them, of the clergy, at least--Mr. Brooke:
he was to visit the New Hebrides, where the natives are cannibals, and
utterly unawakened. He is as bad as the others. He won't go alone. Now,
Julia is obliged to correspond with all of them in affectionate terms
(she keeps well out of their way), and this course of what she feels to
be duplicity is preying terribly on her conscience.'

Here Julia sobbed hysterically.

'She is afraid, too, that by some accident, though none of them know each
other, they may become aware of the state of affairs, or Captain
Lestrange, to whom she is passionately attached, may find it out, and
then, not only may their ideals be wrecked, but--'

'Yes, I see,' said Merton; 'it is awkward, very.'

The interview, an early one, had lasted for some time. Merton felt that
the hour of luncheon had arrived, and, after luncheon, it had been his
intention to go up to the University match. He also knew, from various
sounds, that clients were waiting in the ante-chamber. At this moment
the door opened, and the office boy, entering, laid three cards before
him.

'The gentlemen asked when you could see them, sir. They have been
waiting some time. They say that their appointment was at one o'clock,
and they wish to go back to Lord's.'

'So do I,' thought Merton sadly. He looked at the cards, repressed a
whistle, and handed them silently to Miss Crofton, bidding the boy go,
and return in three minutes.

Miss Crofton uttered a little shriek, and pressed the cards on Julia's
attention. Raising her veil, Julia scanned them, wrung her hands, and
displayed symptoms of a tendency to faint. The cards bore the names of
the Rev. Mr. Bathe, the Rev. Mr. Brooke, and the Rev. Mr. Clancy.

'What is to be done?' asked Miss Crofton in a whisper. 'Can't you send
them away?'

'Impossible,' said Merton firmly.

'If we go out they will know me, and suspect Julia.'

Miss Crofton looked round the room with eyes of desperate scrutiny. They
at once fell on a large old-fashioned screen, covered with engravings,
which Merton had picked up for the sake of two or three old mezzotints,
barbarously pasted on to this article of furniture by some ignorant
owner.

'Saved! we are saved! Hist, Julia, hither!' said Miss Crofton in a stage
whisper. And while Merton murmured 'Highly unprofessional,' the skirts
of the two ladies vanished behind the screen.

Miss Crofton had not played Lady Teazle for nothing.

'Ask t