addled off, not wholly
discouraged, as he hoped that Bluebell, though she would make no sign,
might have been secretly listening to, even watching him, and conscious
of the admiration he sought to convey.

The Lake families called within the next few days. Bluebell did not
appear when the Camerons, mother and daughter, came; and, as Mrs.
Rolleston happened to say _her_ daughter was away, they were quite
mystified as to whom the dangerous stranger could be. Then Coey and
Crickey Palmer came with their mother's cards; and as at that time
Bluebell was present, reading to Mrs. Rolleston, they naturally took her
for one of the daughters, and made acquaintance after the manner of
girls; and, I have no doubt, had Bluebell committed a murder and
absconded next day, either of these young ladies could have given a more
complete and accurate description of her person than detectives are
generally furnished with. Notwithstanding the reluctant admiration that
the inspection resulted in, Coey (Bernard's affianced) heroically hoped,
as she rose to take leave, that Miss Rolleston would spend the afternoon
and stay to tea the following day.

Mrs. Rolleston glanced at Bluebell, who was rather dimpling at the
prospect of a change, and carelessly replied that "her daughter was at
Tadousac, but that her young friend Miss Leigh would be very happy."

I suppose she was, for she certainly was rather solicitous about her
toilette for the occasion--only an innocent brown-holland dress; but two
hours were spent in knotting up some wicked blue bows for throat and
hair, and re-trimming her gipsy hat with the same shade. It is, of
course, an undoubted fact that women dress for their own satisfaction
only, and in accordance with their instincts of "the true and the
beautiful;" so it would be mere hypercritical carping to suspect coquetry
of lurking in the deft folds of that unpretending blue ribbon, or that,
in the face of her _grande passion_ for Du Meresq, she could for a moment
occupy herself with the foolish admiration of Alec and Bernard.

Well, Bluebell is our heroine, and we must make the best of her,--to some
people admiration never does come amiss; and if a demure _oeillade_ can
play the mischief with the too inflammable of the rougher sex, I don't
know who is to be held accountable except the father of lies.

"Palmer's Landing" was a less original building than Lyndon's but on a
more accessible side of the lake. The establishment and fu