CHAPTER XXIII.

THE WIDOW'S RING.

THOUGH young people of both sexes think a good deal about love, they absolutely decline to consider its existence possible between persons of mature age. They admit that the contemporaries of their grandfathers and grandmothers may entertain a tender passion for them, and they have even been known to reciprocate it; but they flout the idea of those ancient people having a tenderness for one another. Hence I sometimes flatter myself, when I am inclined to flirt with some young person a third of my age and undoubtedly three times as good-looking, that I am driven to that course of conduct from fear of ridicule. One must flirt with somebody; and though it would be more becoming to select a contemporary, I dare not do it, from dread of what the young folks will say, but pay my

attentions to the prettiest girl I can find as a pis aller.

Miss Jennynge had no more idea that Mr. Josceline aspired to her mother's hand, when he accepted her invitation that evening, than that he had a design of possessing himself of the cast of her father's head, or of the collection of his photographs; though she herself would not have objected to becoming his wife for a few years, and the Hon. Mrs. George Emilius. Josceline for ever. And that astute gentleman had possessed himself of this tender secret, which she believed to be hidden in her virgin bosom from every eye.

This knowledge, while it imposed upon him considerable difficulties, gave him a great advantage. He knew that any attention he paid to Anastasia would be set down by Mrs. Jennynge to his desire to avert her daughter's suspicions, while her daughter herself would take them au sérieux. The killing of two birds with one stone was a metaphor altogether too feeble for this masterly course of conduct. If Mr. Vernon had known of the position-which would have

been excellent 'copy' for him—he would have likened it to getting the self-same article accepted (and paid for) by 'Punch' and the 'Pulpit.'

'We're so glad you're come!' exclaimed Mrs. Jennynge, as she gave him her welljewelled hand; it is so thoughtful and kind of you.'

Thoughtful it might have been, though hardly in the sense in which Mrs. Jennynge intended it. The fact was, the excellent old lady was rather off her head with excitement, and used the first gracious terms that came into it; but the kindness was surely the other way, as Mr. Josceline hastened to say.

'It is very kind of you and your daughter,' he answered, to take pity upon my loneliness.'

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'We are lonely ourselves,' said Anastasia, 'for now that Miss Josceline has gone there is no attraction for us in the ladies' drawing-room. Mrs. Armytage is more intolerable than ever. You noticed, no doubt, how insolent she was at dinner; well, she has been in tears half the afternoon. Can you possibly guess why, Mr. Josceline?'

'Well, I should hope it was because she heard the rumour of your possible departure.'

'Not she,' said Mrs. Jennynge, at which somewhat blunt sally Mr. Josceline smiled as though it had been the subtlest of epigrams.

'Mrs. Armytage has found in a book from the circulating library,' continued Anastasia, ‘a passage which has affected her most distressingly.'

'Dear me; from one of the poets, no doubt,' said Mr. Josceline; a delicate nature like hers must be easily unstrung by poetic suggestion.'

'What a wicked man you are!' smiled Mrs. Jennynge admiringly. A little bird told me you could be very severe when you pleased, though I refused to believe it.'

It was evident from the colour that came into Anastasia's face that she was the bird in question, but she pursued her narrative without taking any notice of this little digression.

'No, it was not a poetry book' ('Poetry book!' thought Mr. Josceline; 'she's worse than the other!'); it was a paragraph from some work on natural history about the dura

tion of life in animals.

"The rhinoceros," she

told us," exists for ever so long, the alligator, except from over-eating itself, scarcely knows what it is to die, but the dog-the faithful dog -attains but rarely to twenty years of life." According to that computation, her "own sweet Fido," as she calls him, has, it seems, only about fifteen years of existence before him, which has put her in a most dreadful state."

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'No wonder,' said Mr. Josceline; fifteen years-why, it's a mere span.' His tone was more cynical even than he intended, for he was thinking of "the probabilities" of the duration of his own existence.

I had it on the tip of my tongue,' continued Anastasia, 'to ask the woman how long she expected to live herself.'

That would have been very rude, Statty,'

said Mrs. Jennynge reprovingly.

think so, Mr. Josceline?'

Don't you

'Well, it would have been slightly personal, no doubt; but the temptation to one who possesses humour must, we must allow, have been considerable. Of the society, however, to be