l kiss.'

At this moment Mrs. Barton's voice was heard calling: 'Now, Alice,
Alice, where are you? We are waiting for you! Make haste, for goodness'
sake; we are very late as it is.'

The trail of a sachet-scented petticoat could be detected on this length
of Brussels carpet, the acrid vulgarity of eau de Cologne hung like a
curtain before an open door, a vision of white silk gleamed for a moment
as it fled from room to room: men in a strange garb--black velvet and
steel buttons--hurried away, tripping over their swords, furtively
ashamed of their stockinged calves. On the first landing, about the
winter-garden, a crowd of German waiters, housemaids, billiard-players
with cigars in their teeth and cues in their hands, had collected;
underneath, in the hall, the barmaids, and old ladies, wrapped up in
rugs and shawls to save them from the draughts, were criticizing the
dresses. Olive's name was on every lip, and to see her all were
breathless with expectation; her matrimonial prospects were discussed,
and Lord Kilcarney was openly spoken of. 'Ah! here she is! there she
is!' was whispered. The head-porter, wild with excitement, shouted for
Mrs. Barton's carriage; three under-porters distended huge umbrellas;
the door was opened, an immense wind tore through the hall, sending the
old ladies flying back to their sitting-room, and the Bartons, holding
their hair and their trains, rushed across the wet pavement and took
refuge in the brougham.

'Did one ever see such weather?' said Mrs. Barton. 'I hope your hair
isn't ruffled, Olive?'

'No, mamma, I think it is all right.'

Reassured, Mrs. Barton continued: 'I don't think there ever was a
country so hateful as Ireland. What with rain and Land League. I wonder
why we live here! Did you notice the time, Alice, as we left the hotel?'

'Yes, mamma; it was twenty-five minutes to ten.'

'Oh! we are very late; we shan't be there before ten. The thing to do is
to get there about half-past nine; the Drawing-Room doesn't begin before
eleven; but if you can get into the first lot you can stand at the
entrance of Patrick's Hall. I see, Alice, your friend Harding is going
to the Drawing-Room. Now, if you do what I tell you, you won't miss him;
for it does look so bad to see a girl alone, just as if she was unable
to get a man.'

While Mrs. Barton continued to advise her girls, the carriage rolled
rapidly along Stephen's Green. It had now turned into Grafton Street;
and on the st