CHAP. VIII. LOVE MISPLACED.

Zabra’s disposition appeared to have undergone a complete change. He was no longer to be found in the cabin delighting every one with the stirring eloquence of his language, or on the quarter-deck instructing the gentle Lilya in the wonders of the ship. Instead of, as had hitherto been the case, seeking the company of Oriel Porphyry as the greatest enjoyment he possessed, he had for several days avoided every place where they were likely to meet. He roamed about the vessel without attempting to converse with either officers or crew, and if any one ventured to address him, the proud look with which the speaker was regarded, as the young creole turned away, was sufficiently repulsive to prevent the experiment being repeated. Even those with whom he had used to be on terms of intimacy, the captain and the young midshipman, were passed by with the same gloomy look. Every one wondered at the change, and all were ignorant of the cause.

Oriel more than once sought him for the purpose of inquiring the reason of his strange conduct, with the intention of endeavouring to induce him to return to his usual place, as his friend and companion; but the youth fled from his approach so determinedly, and treated his messages with such a studied neglect, that the young merchant, imagining that Zabra was in one of his mysterious moods, at last abandoned all intention of interfering, expecting that in a day or two he would become more reasonable, and join in the cabin circle as usual. Oriel Porphyry had observed so much in the behaviour of his friend that was extraordinary, that he had ceased to be surprised by the strange way in which he frequently acted. His conduct, therefore, in this instance, did not excite in him any particular attention or remark. But no one appeared to regard Zabra’s unsocial manner with so deep an interest as Lilya. She felt severely his estrangement from her society: all her pleasures seemed to be completely annihilated by his absence. It was evident that his kind attentions had not been lost upon her grateful disposition, for she was too artless to disguise her feelings, and her sentiments in his favour seemed too evident to be misinterpreted. His handsome features, so warm and eloquent in their expression—his lustrous eyes, shining with so soft a light—and his youthful figure, so buoyant and elastic, had from the first awakened in her breast a feeling of surprise and admiration that was both strange and delightful. A new world seemed rising before her eyes. She entered into a different state of existence. All around her breathed an atmosphere of happiness that made her previous pleasures appear dull and cold; and then she found no enjoyment except in being near him, and when he kindly endeavoured to lead her mind to the contemplation of such subjects as were likely to interest, to amuse, and instruct her simple nature, as the fire of youthful enthusiasm shone in his brilliant gaze, and his intellectual countenance kept changing its expression in accord with the different feelings which the subject created, she held her breath, as if she thought that there was something in what she saw that the least disturbance would destroy; and hung upon his words as if there was a charm in their sound which, once destroyed, could never be created again.

In the lessons with which he sought to enlighten her untutored intellect, her feelings had participated. Her timid nature acquired confidence in his presence. She more frequently sought than shrunk from his society; and she forgot that she was alone upon the world without a single connecting tie to associate her with its sympathies. It was from such feelings as these that she was first disturbed by Zabra’s unaccountable and unkind behaviour. In vain she endeavoured to find a reasonable cause for such conduct in any thing she had done; she knew nothing in which she could have offended, except in not having appeared sufficiently grateful to Oriel Porphyry; and this fault of hers she reflected on so long, that she began to regard it as something particularly heinous, and became daily more desirous of attempting, by a different behaviour, to repair the wrong she had committed.

She strived as much as possible to get rid of her natural bashfulness, and sought out the young merchant with the design of repairing her fault in the best way she could. After considerable hesitation and frequent desire to turn back as she proceeded, she ventured as far as the cabin door; where, after waiting a considerable time, daring neither to go on, or to return, she knocked gently. A voice kindly bid her come in, and with a palpitating heart she opened the door and entered.

“Ah, Lilya!” exclaimed Oriel, who sat alone studying a book of military exercises, “this is an unexpected pleasure.” Then hastening towards her with a smile of welcome, he led her blushing and trembling to the sofa.

“I hope you will not any longer be such a truant as you have proved yourself,” said the young merchant, kindly.

“Have I been a truant?” asked the timid girl.

“Yes you have, and a very sad truant too,” replied Oriel Porphyry, with a smile.

“How sorry I am!” murmured Lilya, looking deeply concerned, though she knew not what wrong she had committed.

“Well, I will forgive you if you will promise not to repeat the offence,” said Oriel. “You must let me see you more frequently. It is not kind of you to absent yourself from your best friends. Remember that in me you will always find a friend ready to do any thing that is likely to insure your happiness. Will you promise me, that you will not keep away from me as you have done?”

“If you will forgive me, I will promise any thing that is proper for me to do,” replied the bashful maiden, appearing by her downcast eyes afraid to look upon her companion.

“Of course I will forgive you,” responded the other affectionately, taking one of her hands in his. “There can be very little difficulty in my doing that.”

“But there is something else,” said Lilya, trembling like a condemned criminal.

“What else can there be?” inquired Oriel.

“Something else for you to forgive,” replied the timid girl.

“Indeed, I was not aware of its existence,” responded the young merchant. “Tell me what it is. It will give me pleasure to forgive you.”

“I have never told you how grateful I am for your kindness to me,” murmured his fair companion in a voice scarcely audible. “But indeed I feel it. I cannot help seeing how good you are, and—and—and I like you very much for it.”

“You are an admirable creature,” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, apparently delighted with her unaffected simplicity; “and it will be a great source of pleasure to me to be able to assist in creating your happiness. As for gratitude, there is no necessity for that, at any rate, at present; but when I have succeeded in insuring you all the blessings I wish you to enjoy, you may be as grateful as you please.”

“And you forgive me for my neglect?” asked Lilya, looking up to his face imploringly, and then instantly casting her eyes to the ground.

“Forgive you!” cried her companion kindly, “you have committed no fault. But if it be any satisfaction to you to receive my forgiveness, it is readily granted; indeed, I feel so much pleasure in conferring it, that I hope you will very soon either commit the same or a similar fault, that I may be allowed the same enjoyment I now possess.”

“No, I will not do so again, because that would be wrong,” observed the bashful maiden; “I should be unworthy of your kindness if, after you had once been so good as to forgive me for a fault I had committed, I committed the same fault again.”

“In truth, you are a most admirable creature,” exclaimed the young merchant, with impressive emphasis. “But what can I do to make your stay in the ship more endurable. Your being used to roam at will over the wide fields and open valleys of your native land, must make this voyage appear very tedious. I should like to vary its monotony for you as much as possible. Have you a desire for any pleasure I can gratify?”

Lilya looked confused, the colour in her face disappeared and returned, and she tried once or twice to raise her eyes from the ground to the face of her companion; but as soon as she had elevated them about half way, she let them fall, and seemed as if she had not courage to make another effort.

“You don’t answer me, Lilya,” said Oriel Porphyry. “Do not be afraid of asking for what you require. I wish your time to pass as pleasantly as I can make it, and you will afford me gratification as well as yourself by giving me an opportunity for increasing your enjoyments. Tell me what it is you most wish to be done.”

“I wish Zabra would be as he used to be,” exclaimed the simple girl, and an expression of sadness became visible upon her beautiful features.

“So do I,” replied the young merchant; “but I have done every thing to induce him to become so, without success. I cannot tell what it is that makes him act so strangely; but he is a strange creature at all times, and as I have allowed him to do as he pleases, I am afraid nothing I could say or do would make him become more rational. He avoids every attempt I have made to prevail upon him to take his place amongst us as usual, and I have therefore no remedy now but patience.”

“He never used to be so,” murmured Lilya.

“He appears to have taken offence at something or somebody, but what the cause is I do not pretend to know,” said Oriel. “I am sure I have said or done nothing at which he ought to have felt offence.”

“I thought he was offended with me, because I did not tell you how grateful I was for your kindness,” observed his companion.

“I doubt that that is the cause,” replied the other. “But it is my opinion that, if any one can bring him back to his former behaviour, it is yourself, Lilya.”

“Me!” exclaimed the blushing maiden; “I bring him back to be what he was! Oh I wish I could!”

“I think you have only to try and there is no doubt of success,” remarked Oriel: “Go to him, be kind to him; tell him how much you are afflicted by observing him abandon all his friends, and assure him how happy it will make you to see him exerting himself in the same social offices in which he used to take delight.”

“Do you really think that would be of use?” inquired Lilya, as she raised her eyes till they met those of her companion.

“There is not a doubt of it,” replied he.

“Then I will go this moment,” she exclaimed; and leaping from the sofa, she hastened out of the cabin.

Zabra was alone bending over his harp and striking a series of melancholy chords. He was so completely lost in his own reflections, which evidently from the gloomy expression of his countenance were far from being pleasant, that he did not observe the approach of Lilya. The first notice he had of her vicinity was in feeling his hand timidly laid hold of; and on turning his head round, he beheld her gazing on him anxiously and kindly close at his side.

“What brought you here? Why do you follow me? Is there no place where I can be secure from your intrusion?” were the quick inquiries of the young musician, as with a stern look he snatched his hand from the hold of the timid girl.

“Indeed I have no wish to offend you, Zabra,” said Lilya, feeling quite confounded with the unfriendly reception she had met with. “I come to you, because I think you are unhappy.”

“Who told you I was unhappy?” asked Zabra, sharply; “and what is my unhappiness to you?”

“It is much, because it makes me unhappy,” replied the simple girl; “and I thought you were unhappy, because you have abandoned all your friends, and deprived me of the pleasure you used to confer.”

“I did not abandon them till they showed themselves unworthy of my companionship,” said the youth proudly. “Do you think I can sit quietly to become the victim of deceit and treachery? Do you imagine I can stand tamely by while the heart I worship is ensnared by another? No! I cannot endure it, and I will not. I wish to be alone.”

“And will you not return to your place among the friends who delight in your presence?” inquired the bashful maiden; “they are very anxious to see you. And I—I should like you—I should very much like you to be as you used to be; for then you were so kind, and talked to me so delightfully, and appeared so very happy.”

“I was very happy then,” exclaimed her companion, in a voice tremulous with emotion. “I loved and believed myself loved in return. But it is all over now; I have been deceived. Go and leave me.”

“And if you did love, Zabra,” murmured Lilya without daring to move her eyes from the ground, “if you are sure you loved—I think I’m convinced—that is, I mean, that if you do love, you must be loved in return.”

“No, no! I saw it too plain,” observed Zabra. “It’s beyond a doubt; it is evident—palpable—I cannot be mistaken. Why do you waste your time here? Have I not told you I wish to be alone?”

“Oh! do not look upon me so sternly,” exclaimed the gentle girl, with tears in her eyes; “indeed I wish to make you happy. I will never offend you. I will be all you desire. I will listen to you with the most perfect attention, and carefully remember every thing you tell me. Come, Zabra, come!” she continued, as she ventured tremblingly to lay hold of his hand. “Let me lead you to the kind friends who are so desirous of your presence; let me assure you that you are loved,” she added, as she raised the hand she held in her own to her lips, and pressed them softly and quickly upon it, and then, as if alarmed by her own temerity, she hastily dropped it and stood blushing and trembling by his side.

“No, no! I tell you no! I am not loved. I know it too well. Why do you come to me with your affectionate words and fond endearments? Take them to Oriel Porphyry; he can best appreciate them,” said her companion.

“Well, I will if you wish it, Zabra,” replied the simple girl. “I would do any thing to please you.”

“No doubt you would,” exclaimed Zabra sarcastically.

“Yes I would, Zabra; and I will go this moment and do what you require me:” and she had scarcely uttered the words before she hurriedly left the presence of her companion.

Zabra sat alone at his harp, half doubting in his mind whether it was simplicity or artifice that Lilya had exhibited; but as he remembered what both had confessed, he felt the conviction that she was again endeavouring to deceive him; and the miserable feeling thus created he endeavoured to express in the following words:—

“Mustn’t allow you to sing such melancholy ditties, don’t you see,” exclaimed Dr. Tourniquet, standing before the young musician, where he had been for several minutes. “They make every body miserable and yourself too; and besides this they are very hurtful in their effects upon the system. They are a sort of sedative that affect the head and the heart at the same time—prevent eating, drinking, or sleeping with any thing like a healthy state of feeling. Allow me the privilege of an old friend to ask you what’s the matter with you?”

“Alas! it is a malady beyond the reach of medicine!” exclaimed Zabra mournfully.

“That’s to be proved, don’t you see,” replied the doctor. “I have for some days noticed you running into holes and corners away from all your friends. It is both unreasonable and unsocial. I don’t pretend to know what has been the occasion of it; but as you have acquainted me with your secret, I can make a shrewd guess. Ah! this love’s a terrible thing.”

“After having been assured you were beloved,” said the young musician; “after having convinced your own heart that your affection was returned with the same ardour with which it was given, to find doubt follow doubt, till a certainty that you were not loved gradually forced itself on your mind—this, this is terrible.”

“But that cannot have been your case, don’t you see,” exclaimed Tourniquet. “You cannot doubt—there’s nothing for you to dread.”

“It is too true. I have been deceived,” replied Zabra, and his features became overcast with a deeper melancholy. “All that I have done has been unavailing; all that I have dared has been cast to the winds. To be the sole possessor of one heart I thought would be a sufficient recompense for all my past sufferings, and dangers, and difficulties; but now I have discovered the unwelcome truth, that another has acquired the ownership of what I strove so earnestly to gain. Oh shame on the treachery that can allure a trusting soul into the conviction that its sweet hopes are acknowledged and its fond dreams replied to! and then, as a new face or a more beguiling nature comes upon the scene, will turn to it with a fondness which should have been confined to the sincere one, and leave all those hopes and dreams to be crushed under the withering touch of despair!”

“I’ll wager my professional skill you’re mistaken, don’t you see,” said the doctor. “But who do you imagine to be the guilty parties?”

“Oriel and Lilya,” replied his young companion.

“It can’t be, don’t you see,” remarked the other. “I’m a little older than you are, and a better judge of character; and from the result of my own observations, I feel certain that neither of them are capable of such conduct. Oriel Porphyry is noble, and is more sincere in his character than any man I ever met with; and Lilya is the most artless, shy, unsophisticated creature that ever existed. You must be wrong, don’t you see.”

“Both of them have acknowledged it to me,” said Zabra; “both have confessed to me their mutual regard. Yes, it is too true. It is placed beyond the possibility of a doubt.”

“Without meaning any offence to you, I can’t believe it, don’t you see,” said the doctor good humouredly. “You have been deceiving yourself. There is a little bit of jealousy in the case, depend upon it. And though I maintain that jealousy is usually a very reasonable passion; for it is impossible for one who has thought himself the owner of the affections of another, to find a third party regarded as their possessor, without feeling a considerable degree of indignation: I think, in this instance, there is no cause for it.”

“I wish I could think so! I most fervently wish I could think so!” exclaimed the youth earnestly. “Nothing could gratify me so much as to find my suspicions unfounded; but the facts are so clear that the most credulous would be convinced.”

“Ah! lovers are the worst people in the world to argue with, don’t you see,” remarked Tourniquet with a smile. “They are always convinced of something that no one else would entertain for a moment. They believe without a proof, and deny without a cause. With all due respect for you, I must say that love is the greatest folly upon earth. I don’t mean to say that I have not had my follies, don’t you see; for I have had a very fair share of them. I remember my first folly of the kind very well. I had commenced my medical education under the auspices of an old uncle of mine. He was exceedingly like all other uncles from the creation of the world to the present time. He was obstinate, peevish, domineering, and quarrelsome, and was blest with a daughter, as all uncles are that have a nephew to reside with them. I was then a youth remarkable for the pains I took in my clothes and in my personal appearance; in fact, my dandyism was so conspicuous that I was ashamed to look a dog in the face for fear he should acknowledge me as a puppy.

“All at once I thought it was highly necessary I should be in love, don’t you see; so I brushed up my bits of whiskers, held my head as high as I could, and looked about me. My eyes quickly fell upon the charming Papaverica. To be sure her hair was as much like a bundle of scorched tow as it was possible to be; but of course I called it an auburn. Her nose was a lump of flesh; but of what shape it would have puzzled a geometrician to decide; yet I declared it was Grecian; and her mouth was a mouth—there was no mistaking it, and it gave an openness to her countenance more than usually expressive; and of course I swore it was like two cherries seeming parted. Then her body showed that she was somebody. It might have been as thick as it was long, for its length was nothing to brag of. As for her feet, Papaverica was not a girl to stand upon trifles. But whatever her figure was like, I had no difficulty in convincing her it was the very perfection of grace and beauty.

“I fell in love. Papaverica was medicine, surgery, and anatomy to me. The pharmacopœia was neglected, the vade mecum thrust on one side. I forgot drugs and dressings, lancets and laudanum. I had no taste for mixtures, and my soul was above pills. My thoughts were ever wandering towards the charming Papaverica; and as it is not possible for the mind to entertain two thoughts at the same time, my labours in making up the medicines for my uncle’s patients occasionally produced very strange effects. Potions and lotions, cathartics and emetics, pills and squills, were mixed together in what was not considered ‘most admired disorder;’ for my uncle’s stick spoke of any thing but admiration. But my blunders were most conspicuous in writing the labels. In giving the directions for a mixture I was sure to write ‘Papaverica, when taken to be well shaken’—for a draught, ‘Papaverica to be taken at bedtime,’—and for a lotion that had been repeated, ‘Papaverica as before.’

“All this time we met, and made love after our fashion, don’t you see. Papaverica and I looked at each other till we couldn’t see out of our eyes, and sighed like paviers at work on a hard piece of ground. But her father tried to put a stop to our proceedings; and if he caught me talking to her, he gave me such a setting down, or more properly, speaking, such a knocking down, as gave me cause to remember the conversation.

“‘Fathers have flinty hearts!’ said the sympathising Papaverica.

“‘And desperate thick sticks!’ I exclaimed, with tears in my eyes, as I rubbed my aching back against the door. However, this sort of thing could not go on for ever. I was sent to pursue my studies at Columbus, and I lost sight of Papaverica—I may add, for ever; for she soon afterwards eloped with a strolling actor who had been vagabondising in the neighbourhood, and who had won her heart by playing Romeo in a cocked hat and leather breeches.

“My next folly was of a different kind. I was a young student as fond of mischief as any of the fraternity to which I belonged. I was invited to an evening party, where among the company, I noticed a young girl with a laughing, dare-devil eye, and a person remarkably smart. I inquired her name, and from a friend learned all the particulars of her history. Observing that she was regarding me in a manner that told me that she was quizzing me to her companions, I advanced, humming an air till I came close before her.

“‘Ah Floss!’ said I, nodding familiarly. ‘Is it you? Haven’t seen you this age. You look particularly charming; and how is your grandmother? Shouldn’t suppose you half so old as you are, to look at you. And has the cat kittened? I always admire your style of dress—it’s very becoming. So the house dog’s got well at last! Being an old friend of the family, you must really make room for me beside you.—How is your aunt’s toothach?’

“The girl at first stared at my impudence, don’t you see; but, finding I proceeded with the same nonchalance, making all sorts of heterogeneous remarks and inquiries, she laughed heartily, in which she was as heartily joined by her companions, and we became intimate in a moment. We joked and romped in the most provoking manner, and said the smartest things of each other that could possibly be conceived. I found that she lived with an aged grandmother and an old maiden aunt, in a small house in a retired part of the town. I watched my opportunity when I saw the two old women go out to take their evening walk, and gave such a tremendous knock at the door that it made the windows rattle again. As I expected my charmer opened the door, and in I marched as stately as an emperor.

“‘Halloo, sir, where are you going? This is like your impudence, certainly!’ said she, not knowing whether to be most offended or amused at my behaviour.

“‘I have come to honour you with a little of my superfluous time, Floss,’ I replied in an easy, condescending manner.

“‘You have, have you? then I shall just thank you to make the best of your way back again,’ she rejoined as she followed me into the parlour.

“‘I shall do nothing of the kind, Floss, till I please,’ said I, as observing some decanters of wine on the table I began very quietly to help myself; ‘and I have the pleasure to drink your health, Floss, and a good husband to you—when you can get one.’

“‘You impudent jackanapes!’ she exclaimed, as she observed me toss off a bumper. ‘This exceeds every thing I ever heard of.’

“‘I always strive to excel, Floss,’ I replied, flinging myself at full length on a sofa. But come here. Come to me like a good girl. I have something to say to you.’

“‘Go to you! I’ll see you farther first!’ she cried, looking as disdainfully as she could.

“‘Very well,’ said I, rising and retreating a few paces: ‘now come to me—you see me further.’

“‘I shan’t do any thing of the kind, Mr. Impudence,’ she exclaimed, trying to hide her laughter.

“‘Then if you wo’n’t come to me, I shall be obliged to go to you, which is a great hardship,’ I observed as I advanced towards her.

“‘If you come near me I’ll scratch your eyes out!’ cried Floss, looking monstrously fierce; yet I could easily see by the corners of her mouth that she was very much disposed to laugh, so I still approached.

“‘If you touch me I’ll box your ears!’ she exclaimed, beginning to look more serious.

“‘Don’t be alarmed, Floss; you wouldn’t hurt a hair of my head, I know,’ said I, as I attempted to insinuate my arm round her waist. ‘Ha, will you?’ she cried; and she gave me a slap of the face that made my teeth rattle in my mouth like a box of cherry stones. I was not to be easily driven from my purpose, so I attempted to make good my hold, but immediately received a box on the ear that made me see all the colours of the rainbow.

“‘You haven’t the heart to hurt a fly,’ said I very coolly, while I endeavoured to throw my left arm over her left shoulder, to get the command of her arms; but in the execution of this manœuvre, I received a shower of blows that would have made a less eager lover than myself glad enough to leave the field.

“‘What means this behaviour, sir?’ exclaimed my charmer, endeavouring to look expressively angry, and struggling with me with all her might.

“‘I mean to honour you so far as to kiss you, Floss,’ I replied very quietly, though smarting from the pain of the blows.

“‘I’ll scream—I’ll raise the house—I’ll cry murder—I’ll——’

“‘I’m remarkably fond of music,’ said I, interrupting her; and in a moment afterwards I had both her arms tightly pressed to her body, and her face blushing and looking angry a few inches beneath my own.

“‘I’ll never let you see me again as long as I live—I’ll hate you—I’ll——’

“Her mouth was stopped by mine, and every time she attempted to speak I repeated the same interesting ceremony, which she struggled unavailingly to prevent; but with this revenge I was not satisfied.

“‘Let me go, sir; let me go this minute! You wretch, don’t you see how you’re rumpling my collar! Let me go, I command you!’

“‘Before I do that I shall first allow you the pleasure of kissing me,’ said I, with as much condescension as I could assume.

“‘Kiss you!’ cried Floss, looking as savage as an enraged turkey-cock; ‘I’d see you hanged first!’

“‘You’ll not go till you do,’ I replied, with all the coolness imaginable.

“‘Let me go, sir; your assurance is unbearable!’ she exclaimed, making violent but ineffectual efforts to release herself from my embrace.

“‘You’ll not go till you kiss me,’ said I, as calmly as possible. A loud knock at this moment was heard at the door.

“‘Let me go, sir. Here’s my grandmother and my aunt returned, and they’ll abuse me famously if they catch you here.’

“‘You’ll not go till you kiss me,’ I repeated in exactly the same tone of voice I had previously used. Another louder knock was now heard.

“‘There then, you plague!’ she cried as she hurriedly pressed her lips to mine; ‘and now let me go.’

“‘Leave every thing to me, I’ll manage the old ladies,’ said I as I allowed her to escape.

“‘It’s very strange, Floss, that you always will keep us at the door so long when we knock,’ mumbled the eldest of the two old ladies as well as her want of teeth would allow her, as soon as the door was opened.

“‘It’s very strange,’ remarked the other with stronger emphasis.

“‘I’ve spoken to you so often about it, that I’m quite shocked at your negligence,’ mumbled the first.

“‘I’m quite shocked at your negligence;’ echoed the other.

“‘Goodness, a man!’ screamed out the eldest, throwing her arms back, and nearly pitching off her balance as she entered the room.

“‘Goodness, a man!’ squeaked out the other in exactly the same tone, and with exactly the same motion.

“‘May I be allowed to know the cause which has conferred upon me the honour of a visit from a perfect stranger, as it seems very extraordinary,’ said the mumbler, advancing towards me with stately steps, and scrutinising me through her spectacles as if she would look right through me.

“‘It seems very extraordinary,’ remarked the other emphatically, as she also brought her spectacles to bear upon my person.

“‘Have I the honour of speaking to the amiable and accomplished Mrs. Parrot-cum-Poodle?” I inquired, advancing two steps with a grave and respectful air, and making a bow to the ground.

“I am that humble individual,” replied the ugliest of the two, making a profound courtesy; and then turning to her companion, she said in a whisper, “A very well spoken young man.”

“A very well spoken young man,” echoed the least ugliest.

“How much have I reason to be gratified with my good fortune;” I observed, looking as delighted as I could. “I have travelled far to procure it.”

“Take a seat, my dear sir!” exclaimed the old one, with a look of sympathy that did not make her look more agreeable.

“Take a seat, my dear sir!” repeated the other, in the same tone and manner.

“Floss, why don’t you give the gentleman a chair?” cried number one, sharply.

“Floss, why don’t you give the gentleman a chair?” cried number two in a similar voice.

“I should prefer standing in the presence of ladies for whom I have such perfect respect,” said I, with another bow equally profound.

“Oh, you are too good!” mumbled the first, with something that was intended to be a smile.

“Oh, you are too good!” muttered the other, after the same fashion.

“I have come all the way from the village of Parrot-cum-Poodle for the express purpose of elucidating an important point in the pedigree of the respectable and ancient family which still bears the name of that distinguished place,” said I, with the gravest face I had ever made use of. “When the Parrot-cum-Poodles first intermarried with the Tabbies, connected as the Tabbies previously were with the Macaws, one of the collateral branches of the Parrot-cum-Poodle family; and the Macaws having formed several alliances with the Pugs, I am desirous of knowing what degree of consanguinity the Pugs bear to the present descendants of the ancient race of the Parrot-cum-Poodles, because it is an inquiry of exceeding interest, and one of the utmost value towards a right understanding of the family genealogy. You must remember, that when the branch of the Tabbies became extinct for want of heirs male, there was a lineal descendant that could trace his pedigree in a direct line up to the first inheritor of the ancient name of Parrot-cum-Poodle; but he being abroad at the time when the title was declared extinct, knew nothing of his legal claim to the honourable name of his ancestors, and had a large family which were brought up in perfect ignorance of their relationship with the Tabbies. One of these has lately married a remote branch of the Pugs: now the descendants of this pair will stand in a very extraordinary point of relationship to the Parrot-cum-Poodles; and I should wish to know where any of these descendants are to be found.”

“The oldest old lady had gradually opened her mouth as I proceeded to show the labyrinth of the Parrot-cum-Poodle genealogy, till it was extended as far as it could stretch, and she stared at me through her spectacles with as complete a look of mystification as it was possible to imagine, and was turning towards the youngest old lady when she met a mouth equally wide, and eyes equally mystified on the point of turning towards her with the same desire for explanation. All this time Floss had stood behind them making the most desperate efforts to swallow her pocket-handkerchief.

“However it is sufficient to say, that after having bothered the old folks till they did not know whether they were standing on their head or their heels, I took my departure; and so ended my second folly, for I never saw Floss again. And now, having amused you, don’t you see, which is all I aimed at, I must insist upon your going to Oriel Porphyry, and inquiring of him whether there exist any reason for your suspicions.”

“I will try and do it,” replied Zabra, in a more cheerful tone than he had previously used; “and I hope it may be as you say.”