hbourly, my
dear, and a week ago I should have been ready to say nothing but good of
him. But now my eyes have been opened. I'll tell you just how it was.
We were sitting here, just as you and I are now, at afternoon tea; the
talk had flagged a little, and for the sake of something to say I made
some remark about Bulgaria--not that I really knew anything about it, you
know, for I'm no politician; still, I knew it was a subject that would
make talk just now. My dear, I assure you I was positively frightened.
All in a minute his face changed, his eyes flashed, he broke into such a
torrent of abuse as I never heard in my life before."

"Do you mean that he abused you?"

"Dear me, no! but Russia and the Czar, and tyranny and despotism, and
many other things I had never heard of. I tried to calm him down and
reason with him, but I might as well have reasoned with the cockatoo in
the window. At last he caught himself up quickly in the middle of a
sentence, strode over to the piano, and began to play as he generally
does, you know, when he comes here. Well, would you believe it, my dear!
instead of improvising or playing operatic airs as usual, he began to
play a stupid little tune which every child was taught years ago, of
course with variations of his own. Then he turned round on the music-
stool with the oddest smile I ever saw, and said, "Do you know that air,
Mrs. O'Reilly?"

"Yes," I said; "but I forget now what it is.'"

"It was composed by Pestal, one of the victims of Russian tyranny," said
he. "The executioner did his work badly, and Pestal had to be strung up
twice. In the interval he was heard to mutter, 'Stupid country, where
they don't even know how to hang!'"

"Then he gave a little forced laugh, got up quickly, wished me good-bye,
and was gone before I could put in a word."

"What a horrible story to tell in a drawing-room!" said Lena Houghton. "I
envy Gertrude less than ever."

"Poor girl! What a sad prospect it is for her!" said Mrs. O'Reilly with
a sigh. "Of course, my dear, you'll not repeat what I have just told
you."

"Not for the world!" said Lena Houghton emphatically. "It is perfectly
safe with me."

The conversation was here abruptly ended, for the page threw open the
drawing-room door and announced 'Mr. Zaluski.'

"Talk of the angel," murmured Mrs. O'Reilly with a significant smile at
her companion. Then skilfully altering the expression of her face, she
beamed graciously o