66

BUT I LIKE TO BE DETAINED," SAID HOPE, BALANCING HER LITHE FIGURE ON THE ARM OF A CHAIR. "I SHALL STAY AND WATCH YOU."

ever seen how round and white they were. She looked so bright so happy-so innocently proud of herself; it was indeed

"A sure cure for sad eyes

To gaze upon her face."

Ninian paused in his work. He was kneeling beside the box, in the midst of a heterogeneous heap of books, plaster casts, etc. His appearance was not the most elegant, he being minus his coat, with his hands all covered with dust, and his curly hair, one of the few perfections. he had, tossed about in the wildest confusion.

"Well-do you like me? Am I bonnie to-night ?" said Hope merrily. "And we are all dressed the same, just like sisters. We have stolen the prettiest holly-branches in your garden, Mr. Græme; and you will have the pleasure of seeing them in our hair. Look!"

She came closer, and put her head on one side to show him.

"Very nice. There, turn round, and let me admire you; nay, don't be afraid, my white bird, I shall not touch your snowy feathers with these hands," said Ninian smiling. But while he smiled, there came unwittingly a bitter sense of contrast between this fairy creature and himself. He could not bear to see her shrink from him, even in play.

"Now, fly away, birdie; you seem, indeed, just ready to fly, on some sort of wings or other. You scarcely belong to us of the work-a-day world."

"I don't quite know what you mean. Are you not pleased with me? I thought you would be."

"And thought rightly, my little Hope. But run away; you see Edmund has gone to dress already. He vanished like a ghost."

"Of course! His latest sweetheart is coming to tea toaight."

Ninian stooped over his packing. Somehow he did not like to hear her jest about such things. "I will have done directly, Hope; do not let me detain you here."

"But I like to be detained," said Hope, balancing her

lithe figure on the arm of a chair. "I shall stay and watch you."

"A pretty sight for a fair lady's eyes-am I not, now? I know you are half afraid lest some one might come in and find me thus; then how ashamed you would be of your guardian."

“Ashamed, because he was a kind brother, giving himself all sorts of trouble and disagreeable work to please Edmund? No!" she added, energetically, “I had rather see you there, with your grimed hands and face-aye, there is actually a black mark on your face, too-than look at the finest gentleman in a ball-room!"

"Would you, Hope? Would you, dear child ?"

"And to show you that I am not alarmed for my finery, and don't mind coming near you and touching you, as you thought I should-look here!"

She came, stepping over the chaos of rubbish; sat down in her white dress on the old box, and laid her two hands in Ninian's-hers seeming by the contrast so soft, white, and small. He looked at them and at her face, then closed his eyes. He felt the rising of one of those storms of almost uncontrollable passion, which women can scarcely understand, but which this man, whose love was at once so tender and so strong, had to fight with day by day.

"What is the matter with you, Mr. Græme ?” cried Hope, her merry smiles fading.

"I am dizzy-with stooping, perhaps. Wait a minute -never mind."

He sat down on the floor, leaning his arm against the box, and laying his head upon it.

"How you have tired yourself! You should not, indeed. And that naughty boy Edmund has left you so much to do still. Come, let me help you. I should be so glad to help you in any thing."

"Should you, with those hands? How tiny they are, and soft!" He took them, played with them a little, and then he could not have helped it had it been at his life's price-he stooped and crushed his lips upon them, wildly and long.

Hope looked amazed, and something of a womanly blush dawned in her innocent face. Ninian rose.

"So, you exigeante damsel, you can't want more. You make even your staid guardian turn into a 'preux chevalier,' and kiss your hand—kneeling, too, I declare. A pity there was nobody here to see the exhibition! But come, vanish! or I will turn you out."

She laughed, still blushing slightly, and ran away. Ninian walked to the door, fastened it, then staggered back, and lay on the floor where he had sat with the child close near. There was beside him a holly leaf, which had fallen out of her hair. He snatched it—the sharp thorns bruised his lips, but he kissed it still, in the very madness of a boy.

There was now a whole chorus of voices at his door. He must be once more Ninian Græme in his calmness, his gravity, his elder brotherhood of more than thirty years.

When the Last Day comes, and the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, how some of us will shudder, and wonder, and weep!-how, if a few hypocrites we knew may then appear black and ghastly through the rendings of their fair disguise-there will be others-alas! deceivers likewise; since when they walked with us we knew them but as ordinary people fulfilling their round of little pleasures and little cares; liked and disliked, while we praised and blamed them as our fancy led. But, knowing them at last truly, we shall in that day learn, with marvel and with awe, that some of Heaven's chiefest saints and martyrs were not greater than they.

Hogmanay was this year kept in grander style than it had ever been celebrated in the Græme family. Still fits of dullness came over them now and then-at least over Lindsay, who watched her boy with eyes from which all her struggles could not sometimes drive back the tears. Edmund too was rather grave-the girls said because his "last sweetheart" had not made her appearance. But Ninian knew him better than that. They two had had a long talk together over the book-packing, and every look the boy cast on his elder brother showed how deeply and tenderly Ninian's words had fallen on his softened heart.

66

"Nay, no dreariness to-night, children," said Mr. Græme. "If we are to dance the New Year in, we must begin in earnest. Come, Edmund, lead off with Hope; and, Tinie, here's my great ugly paw, if your ladyship will accept it! Strike up, Lindsay."

Lindsay, whose proficiency in dance-music was a merit not light, since she had learnt it only for the children's pleasure, having for it a little liking and less ear, struck up accordingly, and played until her fingers ached.

"Now for a reel, for which the twins seem quite ready; Tinie scorns it, I understand."

"That's Mr. Ulverston's teaching," scowled Reuben. "Well, if people must make fools of themselves by dancing at all, the best thing is to do it thoroughly. So here goes for a reel.”

And despite his contemptuous condescension, the young cynic was very soon snapping his fingers and grinning wildly with delight, as he executed the convolutions and whirls of that merriest of all dances, which, as executed by Esther and Ruth, sonsie lassies, light, strong, and wellmatched, was a performance remarkable for grace as well. as spirit.

Ninian and the professor, whose "week" had somehow extended to the miraculous length of fifteen days, leaned against the mantel-piece and looked on; the latter beginning to discourse on the probable origin of Scotch reels, and Gaelic dances in especial, including the sword-dance and Gillie Callum.

"Ah! you'll show me the sword-dance, professor? I do so want to learn it. You know you said you could dance it when you were a boy," cried Tinie, who had flitted round and round about her brother and Dr. Reay. "You can not refuse, when you are going away the day after to-morrow," she added, with a little-a very little piteousness of face, which was doubled and trebled on that of Kenneth. He yielded at once.

Whereupon Miss Christina took the poker and tongs, and laid them crosswise on the floor, and actually coaxed the professor's unwieldy feet into antics indescribable, perform