us to consult you about our future residence. We shall live here, Mrs. Knightly, here, in this house, which will be Rupert's on the day he marries me.'

'And very kind it is of Lord Clifford, I'm sure,' said Mrs. Knightly blandly, for Georgie had frightened her a little; but not more than any parent would do for a child. Your papa isn't in, is he, dear? or I'd go and tell him how pleased I am; we're kindred spirits in fact. I always used to say to dear Mr. Knightly, fathers can't do too much for their children.'

"They cannot, indeed, Mrs. Knightly,' replied Georgie; for we know, don't we, that the children very frequently go to the wall when their fathers no longer live to take care of them? No; papa is not at home; it's a great pity, as he would, of course, be happier if he knew that you approved so heartily of what he has done; however I will be sure to tell him.'

My dear,' she said afterwards, in talking to Gussie about it,' papa was in his study the whole time, but something about the Channel fleet, or iron-clad ships, or manning the navy, that he'd seen in the "Times" that morning, had put him out dreadfully, and if your mamma had gone obtusely congratulating him and herself on being kindred spirits, I really believe he would have blown her up, as he calls it; and, Gussie, I'm not sure that it would not have served her right. She sympathize with papa, indeed! Nonsense.'

CHAPTER VII.

MRS. KNIGHTLY PARTAKES OF WHITEBAIT AND OTHER DELICACIES.

There was a fiery heat in the air, and the languid wind, when it could be caught, warmed more than it refreshed. The heat came throbbing down in fierce waves upon the heads of all who had rashly ventured out from beneath the sheltering roof. It was the day of all others to make thoughts of Greenwich, of dining by the river, acceptable; and fortunately it was the very day selected by

Mrs. Knightly for that excursion which had been first spoken of at Mrs. Vining's dangerous little dinner.

Colonel Crofton had been the moving spring of everything. He had made himself invaluable. The day had been suggested by him, though I have said Mrs. Knightly selected it; so she did, nominally, but Colonel Crofton had instructed her, although she was scarcely aware of it. He had himself indited the directions to Mr. Hart which made the latter determine to excel himself, and give them the room with the large balcony facing the Royal Hospital, as the river was not quite all that could have been wished. Colonel Crofton had graciously allowed the Vinings to be asked to join them, because he wanted Harry to drive him down, and because Mrs. Vining, an unconscious ally, might be useful to him while they were there. But with the exception of the Vinings (and himself, he observed parenthetically) the party was strictly a family one.

Rupert was married. Georgie was Mrs. Knightly now; and they were away in Paris with Frank Tollemache, who had only been too glad to join Gussie's pet brother-to the great relief of Colonel Crofton. He could not depend upon himself to do a decidedly base and mean thing immediately under Georgie's eyes. So the party was not a large oneMrs. Knightly, her two daughters, Gerald, the Vinings, and himself.

The Knightlys reached the Trafalgar first; for the Knightly horses were fleet and strong; besides, Mrs. Vining was rarely ready at the appointed time; therefore the graceful britzka had drawn up, to the admiration of numbers of old pensioners and small boys, some time before there appeared the dashing mailphaeton in which Colonel Crofton came, but did not mean to return. Three prettier women had never stood upon that balcony, which has held so many pretty women, than the three-the mother and her daughters -who stood there under that summer sun, waiting the arrival of the mail-phaeton. Mrs. Knightly's were autumnal charms, or rather Indiansummer-second summer charms.

She was a woman who united a fragile appearance and tender, delicate tints, with the most perfect health and the hardest of constitutions. There is an old Eastern Counties phrase that is often used with reference to people who preserve an appearance of health, who hang out flags of salubrity in their cheeks, when they are, in truth, far from being robust: He is ill,' they say, but his looks don't pity him.' Now Mrs. Knightly's looks did pity her immensely. This hysterical, delicate woman, who had kept up a running account with a doctor from the time she was sixteen-which fact alone proves her strength-was in reality very tough indeed. Hers was the class of beauty that ill-health would have utterly destroyed; a headache would have diminished her bloom in half an hour, and a serious indisposition have ruined it for ever. she never had either one or the other; and in this her second summer the rose bloomed brightly as of yore.

But

She had nearly left off shamming mourning now-this idolized wife, upon whom had been heaped by her dead husband every imaginable mark of love and confidence. Silvery grey predominated, to be sure. Her dress was a cloud- -a cloud with fourteen small flounces on it, and her gloves were of the same hue; but the bonnet of black Maltese lace, to match the shawl which she wore like a Frenchwoman, had a crimson rose like a cockade on the outside of the brim to the left, and youthful buds of the same clustering upon her soft dusky hair. And the cameo brooch, and the bunch of charms, and the jewelled buckle which clasped her waist rather tightly-none of these looked like mourning.

They looked, however, as much like it as her face did; as her bright eyes, and softly smiling mouth, and dimpling cheeks. She had come

there last to eat whitebait with the father of her children-with the husband, who was dead and- -nearly forgotten. And now, before the last word had been chiselled on the elaborate monument she had ordered to be raised to him, while he was fresh in the memory of a little

French poodle, who still would wait patiently and faithfully for hours at the door of the room from which his master would never again come forth, -she, the widow, was on the alert to catch the faintest sound of the wheels which were bearing towards her another man; and-alas for the daughter! - Florence's ears were strained to catch the same sound.

Augusta, who had not cared very much how she looked, and Florence, who had cared very much indeed, had for once dressed alike. They had put on blue grenadines, covered with wonderful puffings, and pretty white hats with drooping white feathers, and bands of black velvet round them.

Gerald from Woolwich, and the Vinings and Colonel Crofton from London, arrived at the same time; and then, as it was too early to dine, they decided to go into the Hospital and see the well-worn lions there.

Putting out of the question the Chapel, which is a gem, and the Painted Hall, which, in spite of its beauty, is a trial to every one who cares about pictures, the light being so ingeniously contrived, that, stand where you will, it does not fall upon a single painting; and the Charles's Ward, and the long, wonderfully clean dining-rooms, and the glass model of the battle of Trafalgar, where all the ships are blazing away fiercely in cotton-wool; putting all these, together with the beauty of form of the building as a whole, out of the question, the colour of it alone is worth going any distance to see it. The whole of the two blocks that face the river is of the uniform Danish crow tint-a deep, timepainted grey. It was in one of these blocks that Nell Gwynne had a suite of apartments; and here, so lately as 1853-4, might still be seen hanging from the wall the faded drapery which had once fluttered over her couch. Time's changes-how wonderful they are! This same room has seen many of them, from the day the foundress of the St. Alban's family rested there, when Charles held court at Greenwich, up to the present time, when it is the drawingroom of one of the private families residing there.

It was too hot on this especial July evening to stand outside on those bright yellow paths between the velvet-like plots of grass and admire the colour of the building. As Colonel Crofton suggested, they could do that more comfortably from the Trafalgar balcony after dinner, when it was cool. So they went into the Painted Hall; and while Florence stood at the outer end, making a rapid sketch of the head of Vasco de Gama, and the others wandered about trying to make out what it was all about on the ceiling, Colonel Crofton and Mrs. Knightly went on into that little room at the top, where florid angels with stout wings are bearing aloft a gashed and pallid Nelson. When they came out and joined the rest of the party, Florence, who had learnt to study every look of Crofton's, saw that he wore a rather pleased and triumphant expression, while her mother looked pale and agitated, happy and uncomfortable all at once.

'He has spoken to mamma before he does to me,' she thought. 'How noble, how thoughtful, how like him!'

So he had, Florence, but not about what you suppose.

'And now let us go and dine; I'm sure it must be time,' said Gerald, who had no thoughts of ideal heroes to nourish, while he sketched heads of very real ones, and who had not looked at the Immortality of Nelson' through rosy glasses.

'Yes,' replied Colonel Crofton, 'we've seen everything that's worth seeing, and done everything that's worth doing, and now we'll go and dine.'

Ignorance was indeed bliss to Florence that night. How thoroughly she enjoyed the brown bread and butter and the little silver fish which have obtained for themselves such a name; and how thoroughly she enjoyed that hour or two on the balcony when dinner was over, and the delicate odour of coffee, mixed with the fragrant breath of some unexceptionable cigars, were stealing over her senses. Little steamers kept shooting up and down the river, with their star-like light at the bow. They had on board generally some painstaking musicians, who were

wafting abroad on the sleepy summer air their belief in the Power of love,' and in the fact of Britannia being the pride of the ocean; and these airs mingled with the coming darkness, and with the incense of flowers and flattery from Colonel Crofton, who was by her side, and made an atmosphere of perfect happiness around her. Colonel Crofton gave them various historical details connected with the vast pile that loomed grandly before them; and he had the art of rendering his historical details other than dry, and at the same time imparting information. Mrs. Knightly's mistakes with reference to the present occupants of the building were rather humorous. Some fair young faces and graceful forms, habited in the orthodox costume of this period, appearing at a window in the eastern quarter of the Hospital, she, after looking at them through her opera-glass, expressed some little horror and some slight surprise at the nurses being so young and so gaily dressed. It was not until Colonel Crofton assured her that he was on visiting terms with some of the officers' families residing there that she could at all realize the fact of people being in society, and at the same time living in an hospital.

By and by darkness fell upon everything, as a feather is wafted downwards from an eagle in its flight,' softly, gradually, entirelyfell upon the mighty river, and upon that colossal pile, that best, noblest monument to the memory of Queen Mary, William the Third's consort, which rears itself on the banks of that river and that wonderful little rattling noise had been made, which announces that it is sunset; and policemen had gone the rounds to clear out all the strangers from the Hospital. And as they had more than a seven-mile drive before them, it was time to think of starting for home.

So Florence tore herself away from the contemplation of swift-flowing river and time-honoured building, from thoughts of naval greatness and memories of the golden days of that Hospital which was once a palace, and blessed her mother for saying to Colonel Crofton

'You will return with us, I hope. Mrs. Vining must not monopolize both our cavaliers.'

That drive home was an hour in paradise. The Old Kent Road may not be every one's idea of paradise, but it was Florence's as she sat by his side on that lovely summer evening and heard her mother talking amiably to him. The only draw

backs to this paradise were, that it would soon end for to-night, and that Gussie was not in an enjoyable frame of mind. Florence made the most magnanimous resolves relating to Gussie. When I am married, she thought, I'll get him to talk mamma over to let Gussie and Frank be as happy as I am myself.

Then, as it grew later, the jewelled points that came out in the sky seemed less bright than her own future-less bright than the fate which was surely going to be hers. Once the wife of this man, care, sorrow, doubt, difficulty, could never assail her again; and though the thought, 'What wonder that he thinks me fair?' rose occasionally, deep in her woman's heart, there lurked another which took the form of a prayer-God make me worthier the love of such a heart as his!'

And so, while Florence dreamt away the time, and prayed to be rendered more worthy of him, her mother sat pondering over the difficulty there would be in communicating her plans to her children; and Crofton thought gloomily, 'If Gussie had but given me a third of the love and devotion her mother and sister so freely waste upon me, I should not have perjured myself in this way.'

'Whoever made dining on whitebait at Greenwich an institution deserves to be publicly thanked, I think,' Florence said as they drew up at their own door; it's the happiest day I ever spent in my life.'

want you both early to-morrow-I have something to tell you.'

Florence blushed, and cast her eyes down; and Augusta slightly opened hers as she replied

Oh! indeed, mamina, something to tell us, have you? Well, we will be sure to come.'

Gussie,' asked Florence, rather piteously, as they were separating at the door of the elder sister's room, 'Baines will remain with mamma, so she won't interrupt us; may I come in and speak to you for a minute?'

Yes, dear,' replied Gussie, rather wearily; though what can you have to say that won't keep till to-morrow? However, come in by all means and say it.'

It was not an encouraging opening, but it was enough for Florence, who forthwith poured her tale of love and hope into Augusta's ears.

'And you really care for Colonel Crofton, Floy?' she asked, when her sister had brought her narrative to a conclusion.

'Gussie, how would it be possible to help it?'

'Well, dear, I am not going to say anything about him, as you wish to marry him, it seems; only I hope, if you do marry him, he'll make you happy. We shall do no good by talking about it to-night, Floy. Go to bed, dear, and believe that, however it may end, I shall only be anxious that it may end happily for you.'

Well, thought Augusta after Florence had left her, as she won't be happy without him, I hope mamma will let them marry. He's not the man I should have selected to put upon a pedestal and fall down and worship; but Floy has done it, and will break her heart if she's thwarted. I dare say, after all, he's not all bad, though he does pass off a screwed horse occasionally upon his friends; he can't be, indeed, or Floy would not care for him.

Long into the hours of that soft summer night golden-haired, lighthearted Florence sat finishing off that head of Vasco de Gama which she had commenced sketching that afternoon, in order that she might have in her possession a perfect memento of that happiest of days.