ess had long ago convinced her that all her attributes were aristocratic, and that she was destined to take a prominent place in the highest society of the land and the period. Now it was manifest that she never could fulfil her destiny as Mrs. Dubbin; no fancy, however untrammelled, could picture Dubbin, with his bushy beard, his shaven upper lip, his enormous hands (from which neither soap nor nailbrush could wholly remove professional stains), and his loud, rasping voice, mixing in the highest society of the land. The thing was impossible; and so Miss Sparks told her mother, who was partly in her confidence, and who could not but agree with her. Mrs. Sparks was fat and lazy and addicted to the reading of old-fashioned novels, in which the hero was very frequently of the Lord of Burleigh order. She believed her Julia to be fitted to adorn any station, and although, since she was nearly sixty years of age, she deemed a Dubbin in the hand worth two Prince Charmings in the bush, and consequently would not hear of such a thing as a rupture with her affianced son-in-law, she made sundry private inquiries of which the result was highly satisfactory to her. She learned upon the best authority-that, namely, of her neighbor Mrs. Jones, whose information came from Mrs. Prodgers, who had been told by Mrs. Peareth, who had had it from Mr. Peareth himself - that Brian belonged to an ancient and honorable family, that he was the eldest son of the late Sir Brian Segrave, that he had left his home owing to a dispute with his relations, in which they had been entirely in the wrong, and that his present seclusion was not likely to be permanent. She could not refrain from imparting this news to Julia, nor could she help rounding off the story and making it complete by the not unnatural deduction that the organist of St. Jude's must be a baronet, with a large rent-roll.

Thus it came to pass that Miss Sparks was permitted to enjoy her Friday afternoon walks without let or hindrance, while Mr. Dubbin, who, on that as on most days of the week, was safe at his place of business in Bermondsey, devoted his unsuspecting mind to leather and porpoise-hide. It was somewhat strange that, in that populous neighborhood, so long a period should have elapsed before any lady felt it right to let that great and good man know of the goings-on which took place in his absence; but of course the warning came at last; and though he pooh-poohed it and severely snubbed his informant, he

resolved to judge for himself whether she was a calumniator or not.

Weck succeeded week; winter passed away; spring came, with bleak east winds, with occasional bursts of sunshine, and, finally, with a sprinkling of vivid green upon the trees and hedgerows which the London smoke had blackened; yet Miss Sparks did not advance much with the supposed baronet, and it behoved her to expedite matters, seeing that her wedding was appointed to be solemnized shortly after Easter. Therefore, on a mild, surshiny afternoon, when she had, as usual, secured Brian's escort, it seemed good to her to ask, with sudden impressiveness,"Mr. Segrave, can it ever be right to marry without love?"

"That might depend a little upon circumstances, might it not?" answered Brian. "I should be sorry to say that such a thing could never be right." "Well, at any rate, deceit must be wrong."

66

Oh, yes; deceit is wrong, of course." "And I live in an atmosphere of deception!" cried Miss Sparks, throwing out her arms tragically.

Brian said he was sorry to hear it. "Yes; I am engaged I am going to be married to a man whom I do not love. You cannot imagine that I am in love with Mr. Dubbin!"

"Well, no," agreed Brian. "For the matter of that, I cannot imagine anybody being in love with Mr. Dubbin. But then I should think he wouldn't expect it."

"Ah," sighed Miss Sparks, "I don't know what he expects. Oh, how will it all end?"

The tears were so evidently at hand that Brian, to calm her, said, "Why should you marry the man, if you would rather not? Nobody can force you into it."

"But I have promised, and I have no excuse for drawing back. And oh, he is such a coarse, vulgar man, and I do so hate vulgarity! I should like to go away from Streatham and never see the place again. I am sure you must sympathize with me, Mr. Segrave; it must be a daily torture to one of your refined nature to live amongst such people."

Brian smiled; this was a speech which Miss Sparks had made to him several times already. "I think there are pleasant people in all ranks of society," he said.

"Oh, one or two, perhaps," assented Miss Sparks, thinking of herself; "but with most of them you cannot possibly have anything in common. And then,

Mr. Segrave," she continued, raising her eyes to Brian's for an instant, "don't you sometimes feel as I do, that you are living -forgive me! - in an atmosphere of deception?"

66

Really I can't say that I do," answered Brian, laughing. "I am not conscious of having deceived anybody."

At this point their path across the fields was barred by a stile. The melancholy Julia paused and leant against it, in a pensive attitude, and after a moment Brian seated himself sideways on the top rail, dangling one of his long legs.

"And yet," Miss Sparks resumed presently, speaking with becoming timidity and punching holes in the grass with the tip of her parasol, "some people might think that you have deceived them. Some people say that you have passed yourself off as an organist, when you are really something else."

"I assure you I am an organist," Brian replied. "Not a first-rate one, I admit; still, more or less of one. What else am I supposed to be?"

"I am afraid you will be displeased with me if I tell you."

"Oh, no; I am not easily displeased. Besides, I don't think I care very much. Please let me hear what North Streatham takes me for."

"They say that you are the eldest son of the late Sir Brian Segrave. Is that true?

"Perfectly true; and anybody might have had the information from me for the asking."

"But then," cried Miss Sparks excitedly, "you are not Mr. Segrave at all; you are Sir Brian Segrave."

“No; my father was a K.C.B., baronet."

enter into, thought at one time that I was not a suitable person to succeed him, and while he was under that impression he made his will. Now you know all about it, Miss Sparks."

Miss Sparks uttered a sympathetic murmur.

"And have you nothing? No land at all?" she asked.

"None worth mentioning. There is a small property - the Manor House - left me by my mother. Perhaps I may go and live there some day when I have made my fortune."

"The Manor House! that sounds pretty. Is it an old place?"

"Yes; very old. It belonged to my mother's family for many generations."

Miss Sparks, whose visions had been somewhat roughly dispelled, began to brighten up again. A baronet, with ten or twelve thousand a year, would have been very nice; but baronets, after all, are not a very exalted class. Lord mayors and all sorts of people get baronetcies, and a rich husband, albeit desirable, was by no means a sine quâ non for the only daughter of a man who had been saving money all his life and who was now notoriously well-to-do. Miss Sparks's ideas moved with such rapidity that she had time to picture herself as a graceful châtelaine dispensing hospitality within the oak-panelled walls of the old Manor House, during the very few minutes which passed before she said gently,

"But

This was a little disappointing. at all events he had a large landed property," persisted Miss Sparks.

"A fairish property; hardly what could be called a large one.'

"Then, Mr. Segrave, why don't you return home and claim your ancestral estates? I know I must seem dreadfully inquisitive; but — but

"Pray, don't apologize," said Brian good-humoredly; "your curiosity is quite natural, and I may as well gratify it. Then you can tell the others, you know. I don't claim the ancestral estates simply because I have no claim upon them. They were left to my brother.*

"Though you are the eldest son!" "Though I am the eldest son. My father, for reasons which I don't care to

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Oh, indeed there are ! " cried the sympathetic Julia. "Sometimes I have fancied She did not finish her sentence, but resumed presently, with eyes modestly cast down, "Mr. Segrave, has it never struck you that if you don't make your fortune somebody else's fortune might perhaps do as well?"

She was really ashamed of herself for saying this, but it seemed as if he never would come to the point unless he were dragged to it.

Brian stared and frowned. "I see," said he, "that by some means or other, you have found out a good deal about my affairs. No; it has never occurred to me to think in that way about the fortune that you speak of. Even supposing that I

could have it by asking for it which is not the case- it would be impossible for me to ask for it under existing circumstances. But you must excuse my saying that the subject is one which I would rather not discuss with you."

The heart of Miss Sparks beat high with hope and elation. She had, of course, never heard of Beatrice Huntley, and the idea that this young aristocrat was only withheld from avowing his sentiments by a sense of inferiority of position was both novel and sweet to her.

"Ah," she murmured, "you are too proud."

Brian folded his arms, contemplated the landscape, and made no reply.

"Heigho!" sighed Miss Sparks, edging a little nearer to him.

He did not take the slightest notice of her movement. If these were aristocratic manners, there seemed to be something to be said in favor of plebeian ones. She felt very much inclined to box his ears, but resisted the inclination and adopted a gentler method. Wrigging closer still, she laid her hand upon his arm and whispered,

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Mayn't I know the name of the lady whose fortune you won't ask for? Perhaps it isn't such a very large fortune, after all."

Then, with a start, he realized the full horror of his position. It was creditable alike to his presence of mind and his good feeling that the first thing he thought of was the providing of a decent line of retreat for the attacking force.

"I thought, from what you said, that you knew her name," he answered calmly. i As you don't I mustn't tell it to you; but you would be none the wiser if I did, for you have probably never seen or heard of her."

At these cruel words Miss Sparks, whose presence of mind was not equal to Brian's, bounded back to the other extremity of the stile with a wild whoop. "Oh! oh!" she shrieked: "you should

have told me this sooner!"

fully alive now to the risk of losing both romantic and material happiness at a blow, and, without hesitating for a second, she decided upon her course of action. Hurling her whole weight against the broad chest of Mr. Dubbin, "Samuel!" she gasped, "catch me! I'm going to faint!"

Mr. Dubbin promptly deposited her flat upon her back on the damp grass. "Oh, I've caught you," he responded, rather brutally; "there isn't much doubt about that. Humph! your color don't seem to have faded much; you'll come to presently, I dare say. And now, sir," he added, facing Brian, "what have you got to say for yourself, pray?"

The whole situation—the sudden irruption of the panting Dubbin, the total collapse of Miss Sparks, who lay prone and speechless upon the ground, as if struck by lightning; his own guilty appearance, of which he was fully conscious these things struck Brian as so irresistibly comical that he began to laugh.

- all

"Oh, you think it's a laughing matter, do you?" cried Mr. Dubbin, glaring at him. "You'll laugh on the wrong side of your mouth before you've done with me, I can tell you! This young lady will have to give me an explanation presently, which I hope will be a satisfactory one; but as things stand at present, I'm bound to say that they look a deal more awkward for you than they do for her. I hear her scream for assistance, and when I come up I find her evidently agitated and you grinning from ear to ear, like a young satyr. Now, if you think you can take advantage of your position of trust to insult young ladies in this parish, you'll find yourself very much in the wrong box."

"My good man," answered Brian, who, perhaps, did not much like being described as a satyr, and who forgot for the moment that he was only a humble organist, while Dubbin was a local personage of impor tance, "you are making a great fool of yourself, if you only knew it. Nobody has been insulted, and

"Good man!" broke in Mr. Dubbin, foaming with rage; "how dare you address me in that disrespectful way, sir! Of all the impudent young puppies!— But I shall not stoop to exchange abusive

ful.

"I heard a cry for help," said he. "Mr. Segrave, sir!- Julia!—what does this mean?"

There is nothing like danger for sharpening the faculties. If Miss Sparks had been distraught a moment before, she was

now is merely to inquire what has been passing between you and this young lady."

For an instant Brian was very nearly telling the truth; but he caught sight of the dismayed countenance of Miss Sparks, who had assumed a sitting posture and was throwing piteous glances of appeal

at him, and he could not find it in his heart to betray her.

"I don't feel called upon to answer your question, Mr. Dubbin,” he replied quietly. "You seem to be a good deal heated, and that is natural enough, I dare say; but no doubt Miss Sparks will be able to reassure you."

Miss Sparks was not slow to take advantage of the opening thus generously afforded to her. She jumped up with great agility, clutched her irate betrothed by the arm, and whispered, "Come away, Samuel; please come away! I am sure there will be a quarrel if you don't, and his arms are so dreadfully long and strong, and how could I bear to see you going about with a black eye? Walk home with me, and I will tell you all about it."

Mr. Dubbin hesitated, but ended by allowing himself to be led off. "You and I will square accounts some other time, sir," he called back over his shoulder to Brian. "In the presence of a lady my hands are tied; but don't flatter yourself that you are out of the wood yet."

Brian, still sitting on the stile, watched the pair as they pursued their way, arm in arm, across the meadow, and had a hearty laugh all by himself.

"I have lost a pupil,' " he thought, "and I shouldn't wonder if I had lost my character into the bargain; but I don't suppose that will matter much. Dubbin will probably have the sense to say no more about it. She will tell him that I have been trying to make love to her, most likely. Well, I'm sure she is very wel

come."

Then he rose and strode homeward, regretting that loyalty to the romantic Julia forbade him to relate the incidents of the afternoon to Mr. Peareth, who, he was sure, would have been tickled by them.

CHAPTER XXII.

DUBBIN CONQUERS. LIFE, which presents itself under such different aspects to different people that it is doubtful whether any man knows quite what it looks like to his neighbor, has been pronounced by some to be nothing but a farce from beginning to end, while others see so little of the farce in it that they cannot even allow a just measure of importance to farcical episodes. Yet these, as every student of history must be aware, are factors in human affairs which it is very imprudent to despise, and which have more than once been productive of

the most far-reaching results. Brian, who viewed the world at large rather as it ought to be than as it is, and who had a foolish way of judging both men and things according to their intrinsic merits, ceased to think about Mr. Dubbin and Miss Sparks as soon as he had ceased to laugh at them, and turned his attention to what he conceived to be matters of more personal moment to him. Although no communication had reached him from Mr. Berners, and he had seen neither criticisms nor advertisements of the work which he had confided to that affable personage, he was not discouraged to the point of desisting from composition, and was just now occupying the leisure of his long evenings by the stringing together of sundry airs and choruses, with a vague idea that he might some day submit them to his friends Phipps as a groundwork for the possible opera mentioned by that gentleman. In this way he employed himself agreeably enough until bedtime, and the next day went about his wonted avocations with no presentiment of coming evil. It was only when he reached his lodgings after sunset and found a note from Mr. Peareth, in which he was requested to call at the vicarage as soon as he could conveniently do so, that he began to wonder whether anything was amiss. He was led to suppose that he had given offence in some way by the rather dry wording of the note and by the circumstance that it began with "Dear Mr. Segrave." Latterly Mr. Peareth had dispensed with the prefix in addressing his organist and friend.

"Surely," thought Brian, with some inward amusement, as he set off in obedience to the summons conveyed to him, “Dubbin can't have been lodging a formal complaint against me."

That, however, was exactly what Dubbin had been doing, and before Brian had spent many minutes in Mr. Peareth's study he realized that Dubbin might be a suffi ciently formidable foe. Mr. Peareth's demeanor exhibited an odd mixture of dignity, displeasure, and shamefacedness.

"Mr. Segrave," he began, "I have heard with great regret that you have been guilty of -er-misconduct towards

er

a lady parishioner. I am very sorry indeed to receive such a report of you." "But, of course, you don't believe it," said Brian quietly.

This rejoinder disconcerted Mr. Peareth exceedingly. He rose from his chair, sat down again, rumpled his thin hair with