rather idly,
with his hands in his pockets, watching the rain-torrents dance upon
the empty pavements. At last the deluge abated, the clouds began to
break--there was a promise of a fine evening. Gordon Wright, while the
storm was at its climax, sat down to write letters, and wrote half a
dozen. It was after he had sealed, directed and affixed a postage-stamp
to the last of the series that he addressed to his companion the
question I have just quoted.

"Do you mean about Miss Vivian?" Bernard asked, without turning round
from the window.

"About Miss Vivian, of course." Bernard said nothing and his companion
went on. "Have you nothing to tell me about Miss Vivian?"

Bernard presently turned round looking at Gordon and smiling a little.

"She 's a delightful creature!"

"That won't do--you have tried that before," said Gordon. "No," he added
in a moment, "that won't do." Bernard turned back to the window, and
Gordon continued, as he remained silent. "I shall have a right to
consider your saying nothing a proof of an unfavorable judgment. You
don't like her!"

Bernard faced quickly about again, and for an instant the two men looked
at each other.

"Ah, my dear Gordon," Longueville murmured.

"Do you like her then?" asked Wright, getting up.

"No!" said Longueville.

"That 's just what I wanted to know, and I am much obliged to you for
telling me."

"I am not obliged to you for asking me. I was in hopes you would n't."

"You dislike her very much then?" Gordon exclaimed, gravely.

"Won't disliking her, simply, do?" said Bernard.

"It will do very well. But it will do a little better if you will tell
me why. Give me a reason or two."

"Well," said Bernard, "I tried to make love to her and she boxed my
ears."

"The devil!" cried Gordon.

"I mean morally, you know."

Gordon stared; he seemed a little puzzled.

"You tried to make love to her morally?"

"She boxed my ears morally," said Bernard, laughing out.

"Why did you try to make love to her?"

This inquiry was made in a tone so expressive of an unbiassed
truth-seeking habit that Bernard's mirth was not immediately quenched.
Nevertheless, he replied with sufficient gravity--

"To test her fidelity to you. Could you have expected anything else? You
told me you were afraid she was a latent coquette. You gave me a chance,
and I tried to ascertain."

"And you found she was not. Is that what you mean?"

"She 's as firm as a rock. My dear Gordon