quite mad about her!" said one.

"Don't they make a handsome couple?" "They are dancing the Hungarian
Polka, the real one--it is easy to see that they have been practising it
often before." "They say he is never away from Hanover Lodge!" "Oh, the
Princess--why, of course she takes an interest in the girl
because"--(and the rest was whispered into a carefully inclined ear).

"Louis, Louis," said his mother, taking his hand and keeping it between
her two large soft palms, "do come and sit by us--don't go back to that
odious woman. I can't think what you see in her. Though, indeed, 'tis
easy to see what she has been by the horridly familiar way in which the
Dukes treat her. Oh, you will break my heart--besides you make your
grandfather so angry!"

For all the effect this homily of his mother produced on Louis Raincy,
it might just as well never have been spoken. His eyes watched the
smiling face of Mrs. Arlington as she whispered confidentially behind
her hand to young Lord Lochend, a smooth-faced puppy whom Louis would
like to have thrown out of the window. Then he gave his attention to the
two who were dancing. They appeared so wrapped up in each other. The
world was lost to them. Indeed, nearly every one else had stopped
dancing to watch them. No doubt about it--these two were engaged. Patsy
was soon to be a Princess. And with the curious mental blindness which
causes a group of people to receive a tale, repeated by a sufficient
number of mouths, as true, Patsy was considered already as good as
married to Prince Eitel of Altschloss. Certain it was that they danced
well together. Certain also that the two-time polka was the dance of the
young man's native land. He must, therefore, have spent his time in
teaching it to Patsy. The Princess, his neighbour, was of great
influence with him. So the conclusion was clear--Patsy and he were to be
married immediately, and in ten minutes from their first standing up, it
was known what were to be the royal presents on the occasion, and the
list of guests had been divulged, as well as the name of the officiating
bishop.

Louis heard all this, and his eyes wandered no more to Mrs. Arlington.
He thought of the seat in the niche of the beech-tree, the green and
secret nest under the wall overlooking the path along which they could
see Julian Wemyss pacing to and fro, his hands behind his back, and his
eyes on the trout darting and swirling in the pools. Once more he
scented the bog