and San Francisco, and—all round the world. He always was a queer creature!"

"She thinks it likely he'll marry and settle now, he's thirty-five." Mrs. Bursford as she said this looked at Diana in a sort of exploring way over the rim of her tumbler of water, as if to see whether the information took any effect on her.

But Diana, though fully conscious of her drift, hardly even seemed to hear. Ten years ago, Dermot Blake and she had had a passage of arms together; and she knew perfectly that she had no hopes whatever in that quarter. Her mother knew of this, too; and it vexed Diana that she should have forgotten, or should act and speak as if she had forgotten it. But Mrs. Bursford was always expecting miracles. She knew some woman whose lover, having thrown her over and gone off to Timbuctoo, came back after twenty years enormously rich, and married her there and then; and it would have seemed to her almost the natural order of things that Dermot Blake and Diana should marry in the same way. Diana had finished, and was thoughtfully smoothing the salt with the spoon.

She

was a little vexed with her mother; and if she had had time and leisure to think over the grievance, it would have led to one of their not unusual scenes. She had other food for thought, however; for she was meditating taking some new dresses with her. It was cheaper to get them in Dublin, and she recollected a letter from a friend in London, giving some information as to the newest fashions and cuts, which she considered much more explicit and satisfactory than the engravings in Punch,-which, indeed, presented a finished whole, but left details and ways and means over-much to the imagination.

"We must go round to the milliner's, too, this afternoon, when we have settled with the Mulcahys, mamma; I want a couple, at least, of new dresses. I'll get a bonnet when we can go to Madame Tripotte's."

"Dresses! why, Diana!"-and now Mrs. Bursford's voice had a ring of real sharpness and authority in it,-"it's impossible. Pray consider what you have had this year already, -and our journey. I cannot do it."

"The fact is, mamma, I suppose, you have been sending money to Jervis again."

Then there ensued a scene, and Diana came off victorious.

Jervis was Mrs. Bursford's youngest son, younger than Diana, and a ne'er-do-well; living somewhere,—nobody knew where, and, save his mother, nobody caring. Hopelessly idle and untrustworthy-and clever. He could act well; but manager after manager dismissed him for insubordination and unsteadiness. He could play the piano and sing; so he picked up a queer livelihood in music halls, betting and billiard-rooms, and such places; doing odd jobs for odd people, and liked by every one. He had all sorts of accomplishments, and not one single capability. He was always his mother's darling, and the terror of Diana's life; she fancied that any day Jervis might turn up and demand to live with them. Indeed, he had done that already. One winter that Mrs. Bursford was at Boulogne, the amiable Jervis dropped in with a carpet bag, and remained until his behaviour forced his mother and sister to fly the place. Just at present he was at Monaco; where Diana fervently hoped he might be induced to remain until her London visit was over; and where his mother was

quite reconciled to have him stay, because Monaco was such a nice place for his delicate chest in this severe season.

When their dispute was over, and Diana had fumed and threatened until her mother had been brought to promise that she should have whatever she needed, and to give a sort of undertaking that Jervis was to be left to his own resources for some time to come,—an undertaking which Diana well knew was not to be depended on,--the ladies sallied out on their double mission; which, ere the day was done, was accomplished to the satisfaction of one of them at least.

CHAPTER II.

DICKY DAVOREN, on the day after his return from Peatstown, when he left his sister and Mr. Hogan at the front gate of the college, dashed straight up to the rooms of his friend Gagan. Him he found sitting in consultation with Orpen; and both of them appeared delighted to see him,-Mr. Orpen especially was most cordial.

66

Dav., old boy!" he exclaimed, "how are you? I'm glad you've got back all safe. How have you got along ever since?"

"Blooming! Morrow, Gagan; hollo! such an eye as you have! Who knocked up against you?"

Mr. Gagan's eye had a suggestive green and yellow tinge all round it; he put up his fingers and stroked it tenderly.

but where

"One of those 'bom'nable Corporation lamp-posts. Put everywhere they're wantin'; so they are.

And I, never