left to immortality, or bread either, now for us poor artists but portrait-painting.'
'I envy you your path, when it leads through such Elysiums,' said Lancelot.
'Come here, gentlemen both!' cried Argemone from the bridge.
'Fairly caught!' grumbled Lancelot. 'You must go, at least; my lameness will excuse me, I hope.'
The two ladies were accompanied by Bracebridge, a gazelle which he had given Argemone, and a certain miserable cur of Honoria's adopting, who plays an important part in this story, and, therefore, deserves a little notice. Honoria had rescued him from a watery death in the village pond, by means of the colonel, who had revenged himself for a pair of wet feet by utterly corrupting the dog's morals, and teaching him every week to answer to some fresh scandalous name.
But Lancelot was not to escape. Instead of moving on, as he had hoped, the party stood looking over the bridge, and talking—he took for granted, poor thin-skinned fellow—of him. And for once his suspicions were right; for he overheard Argemone say—
'I wonder how Mr. Smith can be so rude as to sit there in my presence over his stupid perch! Smoking those horrid cigars, too! How selfish those field-sports do make men!'
'Thank you!' said the colonel, with a low bow. Lancelot rose.
'If a country girl, now, had spoken in that tone,'
