The Press., 1888-03-22

my 66nttuncnL6 openly ana MA Ay9uE pFUS- ence; you have been aware of the hope less passion that is consuming me, I may be mad, but still tbink that, with opportunities and time, might make myself at least tolerated by Miss Delmaine. Will you help me in this matter2 Will you give me the chance of pleading my cause with her alone2 By so doing"-with meaning smile you will also give my cousin the happy chance of seeing you alone" Z Dora only too we'll understood his in- situation. Latterly Sir Adrian and Florence have been almost inseparable. To now meet with one whose Interest it is to keep them asunder is very pleasant to her.
 T will help you," she says in low
 Then try to induce Miss Delmaine to give me private rehearsal to-mor- hurriedly, seeing Capt. Ringwood and Miss Villiers approaching. "Hushl Not another wordp rely upon you. Above all things, remember that what has oc- cured is only between you and me. 1t is our little plot" he says, with a cur ious smile that somehow strikes chill to Mrs. Talbot's heart.
 She is faithful to her word neverthe- less, and late that night, when all have gone to their rooms, sine puts on her dressing-gown, dismisses her maid, and crossing the corridor, taps lightly at the door of Florence's apartment.
 Hearing some one cry Come in" she opens the door, and, having fastened it again, goes over to where Florence is sitting while her maid is brushing her long soft hair that reaches almost to the ground as she sits.
 Let me brush your hair tonight, Flo,"' she says gayly. "Let me be your maid for once. Remember how l used to do it for you sometimes when we were in Switzerland last year"
 Very well-you may" acquiesces Florence, laughing. Goodnight, Par kins. Mrs. Talbot has won you your release"
 Parkins having gladly withdrawn, Dora takes up the ivory-handled brush and gently begins to brush her cousins hair.
 After some preliminary conversation leading up to the subject she has in hand, she says carelessly-
 By the by, Flo, you are rather un- civil to Arthur Dynecourt, don't you thinkp
 "Uncivilp"
 "Well-yes. That is the word for your behavior toward him, think. Do you know, am afraid Sir Adrian has noticed it, and aren't you afraid he will think it rather odd of you-rude, mean-considering he is his cousinY"
 Mot very favorite cousin, fancy"
 For all that, people don't like seeing their relations slighted. once knew a man who used to abuse his brother pened to say one disparaging word of him in his presence, it put him in a pretty rage. And, after all, poor Ar~ thur has done nothing to deserve actu- al ill-treatment at your hands"
 q detest him. And, besides, 1t is Q distinct impertinence to follow any one about from place to place as he has fol- lowed me. I will not submit to it calm ly. It is a positive persecution.
 My dear, you must not blame him if he has lost his head about you. That is rather a compliment, if anything"
 "I shall always resent such compli- ments."
 He is certainly very unmanly in all other ways, and must say devoted to you. He is handsome too, is he not and has quite the air of one accustomed to command in societyy
 "Has he paid you to sing his praisesY" asks Florence, with a little laugh; but her words so nearly hit the mark that Dora blushes painfully.
 "I mean" she explains at last, in a rather hurried way, that l do not think it is good form to single out any one in household where one is a guest to show him pointed rudeness. You | give all the others acting in this play ample opportunities of rehearsing alone with you. It has been remarked to me by two or three that you purposely slight and avoid Mir. Dynecourt."
 So l do," Florence admits calmly; adding, Your two or three have great perspicacity."
 They even hinted to me-" Dora goes on deliberately, that your dislike to him arose from the fact that you were piqued at his being your stage lover, in. stead of Sir Adrian!"
 ! It cost her an effort to utter these words, but the effect produced by them is worth the effort.
 Florence, growing deathly pale, re- leases her hair from her cousins grasp and rises quickly to her feet. T don't know who your gossips may be-" she says slowly; but they are wrong quite wrong-do you hearf My dislike to MT. Dynecourt arises i from very different feelings. He is dis tasteful to me in many ways; but, as l am undesirous that my manner should give occasion for surmises such as you have just mentioned to me, will give 1 him an opportunity of reciting his part to me, alone, as soon as ever he i wishes"
 q think you are right, dearest" re- spends Mrs. Talbot sweetly. She is a little afraid of her cousin, but still maintains her position bravely. "It is always mark of folly to defy public opinion. Do not wait for him to ask you again to go through your play with him alone, but tell him yourself to- morrow that you will meet him for that purpose in the north gallery some time during the day"
 Very we'll" says Florence; but her face still betrays dislike and disinclina- tion to the course recommended. And, Dora, don't think I want my hair brushed any more, thanks; my head is aching so dreadfully."
 This is hint that she will be glad of Mrs. Talbot's speedy departure; and, that lady taking that hint, Florence is soon left to her own thoughts.
 The next morning, directly after breakfast, she finds an opportunity to tell Mir. Dynecourt that she will give him half an hour in the north gallery to try over his part with her, as she considers it will be better, and more conducive to the smoothness of the piece, to learn any little mannerism that may belong to either of them.
 To this speech Dynecourt makes a suitable reply, and names a particular hour for them to meet. Miss Delmaine, having given a grave assent to this ar engagement, moves away, as though glad to be rid of her companion.
 A few minutes afterward Dynecourt, meeting Mrs. Talbot in the hall, gives her an expressive glance, and tells her in low voice that he considers himself deeply in her debt.