He appears too cautious, too reserved, too cold and calculating."

The observation was put forward as a mere feeler. Sir Reginald knew it would

draw a denial.

Henry Molyneux willingly accepted the lure, and replied, that "his own verdict upon his cousin, one formed upon long and close intimacy, would have been to pronounce him quite the reverse. Unobtrusive, rather than reserved; sensitive, instead of cold."

"Oh! a sentimental lover! I understand it all," rejoined Sir Reginald, sarcastically.

"I doubt," responded Henry Molyneux, "whether a heart beats which is more adapted to the reception of the finer sentiment. Grey would live upon an affection; he would invest it with a poetic form, invisible to others, and would be content to cling to that form, and that only; and, did he chance to cherish a love, the eyes of the world would be unable to trace the secret spring of his happiness."

"What! you would mean to imply that he is a hypocrite?" cried Sir Reginald, with sudden violence,

"Pardon me, Sir Reginald," interrupted the other: "I have said nothing that justifies such a thought. I can neither understand nor willingly endure such a term in connexion with the name of Albert Grey."

"You entirely mistake me, I assure you," replied the baronet, with peculiar affability; "and you must allow me to express a regard for any friend of your own. I meant not to be severe."

"For my own part," pursued Henry Molyneux, "I should consider it even honourable for a man to consult the happiness of a being who loves him, by acting the harmless hypocrite. It is not exactly the rôle that any man would select; but it is, at times, especially during the reign of love, a necessary one."

"You have again left me without a chance of the game,” observed Sir Reginald, eyeing the position of the balls upon the table, after a considerable silence, during which he had been meditating upon the adaptation of Albert Grey's conduct to the theory of amatory morals laid down by Henry Molyneux. The theory suited it. His suspicions were strengthened,

and he congratulated himself upon the skill with which he wormed this confirmation from

his guest.

Meanwhile Henry Molyneux was intent upon a succession of masterly strokes. The game, and the game only, occupied him. He appeared not aware of having spoken-as Sir Reginald felt he had done-unguardedly. Molyneux was never unguarded.

"I must challenge you again, for my revenge, and soon, but I fear with small chance of better success against your play," said Sir Reginald, after having sustained another signal defeat.

The cues were laid aside, the table was abandoned, and the next meeting of the unequal combatants at play and at craft, took place in the drawing-room, where they found the ladies. The arrival of Lord Dumbledore within a few minutes, the harbinger of those good tidings, a summons to the dining-room, again changed the scene and the topics.

CHAPTER XV.

"Still harping on my daughter."

SHAKESPEARE.

THE absence of Lord Byborough reduced the party to five, and prevented that pleasant and uniform arrangement at the dinner-table, which sailors would call "trimming;" and. freemasons, in the haunts and recesses of their mysteries, are said to denominate " squaring."

Lady Windermere, however, easily reconciled herself to the misfortune which would have afflicted an eye as trigonometrical as that of Mrs. Auget. Her ladyship found considerable consolation in a frequent introduction of the noble marquess's name. Sir Reginald, pluming himself upon the tact with which he had successfully managed Henry Molyneux, was in spirits; whilst the latter threw a gaiety,

a variety, and a charm, over the entire conversation.

Even Lord Dumbledore, at one time, became animated. His interest was excited for a brief space by a dish of beans, wonderfully forced for the season. With an astonishment scarcely consistent with his belief in the omnipotence of human skill over the productions of the earth, he pronounced them a perfect miracle; and his lordship, in his heart, worshipped them as if they had been an ambrosial

avater.

But the vegetables, in due course, disappeared; and the confectionary and sweets that succeeded, being products of neither field nor garden, went far to sour his lordship. Lady Windermere, ever vigilant when in company with Lord Dumbledore, approached her pet topic of matrimony — but only approached it: her ladyship reserved her grand attack for the evening. Strange was it that, although the elderly nobleman obstinately professed a distaste to the subject, Lady Windermere always remarked that it was the only one which had power to seduce him from grain and sheep