"I had thought of restoring it, but, upon reflection, I mean to keep it. May I?" But how did it come into your hands, Harry?" 66 You didn't recognize the Piccadilly highwayman, then?" forth, my cousin; for indeed, who could linger near thee but for a moment and not be bettered by the purity and sweetness that spring from thee as the perfume from a flower." as "Dear Harry, I love thee; and, so far I may 99 "What!-you were the highwayman?" "To think that a crape vizard and a "I know, I know, the Countess is our horse-pistol should make such a differ- stumbling-block. But never fear, I'll ence! You didn't know me, Bab? I had make thee mine, heaven willing, in spite grown to be such a giant in size, and my of her. She is but mortal, after all. I aspect had turned so suddenly ferocious? frightened her rarely t'other day with my It was the magic of your fears that had horse-pistol. I could scarce hold it steady changed me; for all I looked so dreadful, for laughing. But I owed her something for I was still but Harry Brabazon, your her bad treatment of me,-of both of us, fond, foolish cousin masquerading as a - for the tales she's told you of me. She knight of the road. How frightened you never was so scared in her life. Not but were; I felt sorry then, for indeed I love she's brave enough. She'd have shot or thee too dearly to harm a hair of thy stabbed me if she'd had a weapon handy. head, or cause thee a moment's pang. How she growled and ground her teeth And yet how pretty you looked when you and swore under her breath! Yet she fainted! I longed to wake thee back to shivered, too, and turned pale, in spite of life again by my kisses. A mad prank, her paint. I punished her, not a doubt wasn't it? But I was mad that day. of it." You'd been so harsh with me at Lady Careless's overnight, that I had thought to drown my cares in Burgundy, and faith I think I fairly drowned my senses too. Yet 'twas your fault, Bab, when all's said. See what comes of being cruel." "Indeed, cousin, I meant not to be cruel. But I was so wretched. I had been so scolded, I felt so weak I couldn't pluck up spirit to be wilful." "You obeyed the Countess's orders implicitly I know. You'd scarcely give me a word or a look, much less the flower I asked you for, that you wore in your bosom. You let it fade, and threw it away, rather than give it to me. So I was bent on vengeance. I took the pompon, and I've worn it here ever since." Oh, Harry, how can you be so desperate and wicked?" "Nay, Bab, have you stolen nothing? What say you to my ease and quiet? Where is the little thief that has filched my heart from my very breast? I could have borne with fewer sighs and less uneasiness the loss of all the wealth in the world. Was Love the bandit? Nay, the rogue professes to be blindfold, and so wears something of a highwayman's mask over his face. Or was Bab the depredator? Or are Bab and Love all one? 'Ods life, I think so. I'm not worthy of thee, pretty one. I know it. I'm but a poor soldier, -poorer in that I've led something of a fool's life hitherto. But then I had not the motive for wise conduct, my love for thee now gives me, Bab. You shall make me wise and good hence "She'll never forgive you, Harry.” "Then I must e'en make shift to do without her ladyship's forgiveness." There came another peal of thunder. Lady Bab screamed, not only because of the thunder, however. There was another, and, for the moment, even a more potent reason for terror. The Dowager Countess stood beside the young couple in the balcony, with so sinister and malevolent an expression upon her wrinkled, rouged visage that she seemed to be quite the kind of personage whose appearance might reasonably be expected to be attended by thunder and lightning and other appropriate and redoubtable accompaniments. "What do you here, child?" she demanded, in angry, grating tones, scanning her granddaughter with fierce eyes. "Go to the ball-room instantly. My Lord Bellasis has been seeking you everywhere. He would honour you with his hand in a minuet. Go!" Lady Barbara fled like a scared hare. She dared not even turn to bestow a parting glance upon her lover. IV. "You here?" The Dowager Countess turned wrathfully upon Captain Brabazon. "I had the honour of receiving your ladyship's card." "I thought you were in gaol." "In gaol?" repeated the Captain, with surprise in his voice. "Oh, I only mean for debt. No doubt you've been cunning enough to keep clear of graver offences- as yet. For all "It's a pardon me!" The Captain you know the hemp may be grown and checked himself in an angry outburst. spun for your proper neckcloth, neverthe-"Your ladyship is mistaken. You do me less. You'd have worn it long since, if deserving had anything to do with it." "I know that I have not had the good fortune to win your ladyship's favourable opinion." "You know that you're a villain !” "I have never learned to set great store upon myself, madam. For hard words I care little,nor, for that matter, for hard blows either. Your ladyship is, of course, at liberty to style me villain, if it so please you, or, indeed, to bestow upon me any other opprobrious and insulting epithet. I promise to be not greatly stirred in any case. I hold myself to be simply a soldier, who has fought and bled, -I would say it with all modesty, for his king and country. As to my honour, I maintain it to be unblemished, and I shall be glad to meet the man who presumes to have a contrary opinion." "Are you not a gambler? Do you not haunt that pit of destruction, White's?" Sits the wind in that quarter? I have played; I own it. I have lost, and paid my losses. Who dares say otherwise? I did wrong, it may be,- nay, I will avow it. Still, I have but followed the mode. Why should I, then, be singled out for blame from among all the Countess of Dangerfield's guests?" "Profligate! do you know whither you are hurrying?" "I see your ladyship has taken up with the Methodist's vocation." The Captain laughed bluntly. "I don't doubt your ladyship will become the conventicle purely. When may we expect, dare I ask, that diamond necklace to be changed for the preacher's bands?" grave injustice. If your ladyship has any friend wearing a sword, and willing to repeat such a charge against me, I shall know better how to deal with him. I shall reply to him with less forbearance than I am bound to exhibit towards your ladyship, I warrant you." How, sirrah? Do you not persist in following the child like her shadow? Have you not persecuted her with your odious attentions?" "I love my cousin, madam; I own it frankly. Why should I not love her? Who will hinder me? How, indeed, can I help loving her? For her fortune, it is nothing to me. I ask not for it. I want it not,- nay, it is hateful to me rather, in that it seems in some sort to bar my winning her, and that, to the evil thinking, it taints with a suspicion of self-seeking a passion, heaven knows, to be absolutely pure and truthful." The Countess laughed acridly. "Spare your play-house speeches, sir," she said. Such tinsel blandishments may beguile milkmaids and silly chits of seventeen; but, indeed, I know their trumpery nature too well. I'm an old woman, and I've been behind the scenes too often. Lady Barbara is not for you, nor such as you. I forbid your speaking to her again." "I am her kinsman, madam." "Fiddlestick! While she is under my proof you shall not approach her. You her suitor, her husband! It shall not be, I say." "Pardon me. I say it shall." The Captain bowed with an air of severe politeness. The Dowager Countess drew herself up, and addressed him with much majesty. 66 Captain Brabazon,- nephew, if you prefer it,- for I will suppose you to be my nephew,- your mother always said you were, and more, persuaded your father to believe as much,- some men are so credulous!-you'll not darken my door again. I'll have your black face no more in my house. It was through a blunder of my groom of the chambers that you received a card for this night. The blockhead shall be dismissed for his stupidity. And harkee, sir; we're strangers henceforth, remember. My granddaughter is not for you,-nor her money, nor is mine,- not even to the fee-simple of a rope and a shilling. So abandon, pray, all foolish expectations in that regard. Don't dare to send to me, sir, for aid, in whatever straits you head with amazing violence. may be in, unless, indeed, you're con- | heat was intense. The lightning flashed, demned to ride backward up Holborn Hill. and the thunder rolled and crackled overIn such case I should like to secure a window with a good view of Tyburn Tree. Good night. My servants shall show you the way out, and quickly too, if you have difficulty in finding the door." The look of the Dowager Countess was particularly venomous as she delivered herself of this bitter speech. The Captain replied with considerable calmness : "If I should be the first Brabazon to suffer at the hands of Mr. Ketch, madam, I shall not, possibly, be the first of the family who has merited helping from the world by that unpleasant functionary. For my mother, of whom your ladyship has spoken with so tender a grace,-I am happy to think that she is now where she is little likely to be hurt by your taunts, or incommoded by your presence. I refer to heaven, madam. Your ladyship needs to be informed, perhaps, that there is such a place. For my own doom, whatever it may be, the three-legged tree at Tyburn, if your ladyship will have it so, I don't doubt that fortitude will be duly given me to endure it as a man should. May your ladyship be not less prepared when your own time arrives." "What do you mean, sirrah! how dare you?" the Countess began in a quavering angry voice. "I mean good-night and good-bye. I will not further trespass upon your ladyship's hospitality. The sight of my black face shall no longer disturb your vision. Only this I would say;-I love my cousin Barbara, and I mean to win her. I am your ladyship's most obedient humble servant." For some minutes the countess stood leaning against the balcony, as though musing in an abstracted way over the words that had been addressed to her. Presently she was startled by the flashing of the lightning; with a shiver, she pinched her hoop beneath her elbows, and hurriedly re-entered the ball-room. The Captain, with a flushed face and a somewhat fiery gleam in his eyes, had bowed low, and quitted her. But he did not withdraw from the house immediately. He lingered for some time on the staircase and in the vestibule, in the hope of a parting word with Lady Barbara, or even of one more glimpse of his charming cousin. In this respect he was not destined to be gratified. He encountered the young lady no more on that evening. As he turned from St. James's Square, he found the storm without approaching its height. The "I bet you it isn't thunder; I'll give you odds," said a languid coxcomb in a suit of blue and silver, lounging on the staircase. "I'll bet you it's the powder-mills at Hounslow exploding. Powder-mills always exploding at Hounslow. Or I'll take you, if you like. Will any one bet?" "For shame," exclaimed an alarmed gentleman in clerical garb, hurrying from the rout; "gambling at such a moment! I do believe there are men, who, if they were to hear the last trump, would give odds that it was only the bugle-call of the Life Guards. What times we live in! No wonder the heavens roar!" "No, I won't bet. It can't be powdermills. Or they must be nearer town than Hounslow." And the gentleman in blue and silver paled somewhat, and tapped his jewelled snuff-box with trembling fingers. The lightning without was now so incessant and so intensely vivid, that the candles in the ball-room seemed to burn but dully and dimly; their flames flickered and smoked; a hazy dun red hue pervaded the chamber, by contrast with the blue-white sheet of fire that was blazing in the sky. Another roar of thunder, and a panic seized the Countess's guests. They felt, or thought they felt, the house over their heads shaken to its foundations. The window-panes rattled and were shivered to pieces; the curtains swayed, and bellied out like the canvas of a ship in full sail; doors banged violently, and in all parts of the house bells were set ringing; the ground rocked and trembled; the chandeliers swung from the ceilings to and fro like pendulums; a large mirror over the chimney-piece suddenly cracked all over, with a noise like the explosion of a musket; the stores of precious china ornaments were flung from their shelves, and shattered on the floor. Hysterical screams of terror were heard; there was wild hurrying hither and thither; women swooned, and men swore; a few fell on their knees in prayer. The musicians abandoned their instruments, and rushed from the room. Then arose on the part of all present a frantic desire to quit the scene of festivity as soon as might be. A surging, frightened, shrieking crowd, choked the passages and staircases, and streamed into the open street. Torrents of rain were falling, and still overhead the lightning, in great pulsations, was stirring and sundering the skies, and the thunder sounding and reverberating on all sides with frightful violence. But no matter for soaked finery, mired vel- | heard above the turbulent accompanivets, and draggled silks. It was held best ment which the full orchestra of the eleand safest to be out of doors. The splen-ments was now so abundantly affording did mansion of the Dowager Countess was him, declared doomed. An agonized consternation blanched every face. One cry was on every lip:-"THE EARTHQUAKE!" The card-tables were overturned by the awe-stricken players, in their precipitate anxiety to abandon their game, and make good their escape. Cards and counters, money and candles, strewed the carpets. The world of fashion had never known such! a night of horror. Society was shaken to its very centre. The quality seemed smitten with frenzy and paralysis, at one blow. People were heard declaring that one particular flash of lightning had turned all the clubs and spades in the pack, bright red; and all the hearts and diamonds deep black. This was at the pharo-table. "Thank heaven, I never play pharo, but always brag or cribbage," gasped a lady of quality: "so the storm was not pointed at me. But I don't think I'll ever touch a card again. Ah!" Screaming, she covered her eyes with her hands, to shut out the blinding glare of the lightning, as she tottered to the door.. The Dowager Countess lay stretched on the floor of her grand with-drawing room. She had swooned. Lady Barbara, trembling terribly, bent over her, bathing her temples with vinegar. Every now and then, with twitching face, and glassy eyes, and chattering teeth, the Countess moaned, "The earthquake! The second shock! Beware of the third!" Over and over again. "The earthquake! The second shock! Beware of the third!" The Dowager Countess was changed indeed. There could be no further question on that head now. It was an awful night certainly. But one person seemed wholly undisturbed by its fell terrors and calamities. After all, what is even an earthquake to a lover? The very heavens may fall, so his passion but prosper. Captain Brabazon, tripping lightly along to his lodgings in Suffolk Street, Pall Mall, had heart to sing, and to make his voice "Tell me, Chloe, tell me pray, How long must Damon sue? His song went something after that fashion. Anon from verse, he would drop to prose, still of a rapt and exalted sort. "Love her? dearest Bab!" he exclaimed; "of course I love her. Is she not made to be loved? Could one love a dearer, purer, kinder little soul? Does not sweetness lodge in her lips, beauty in her cheeks, wit in her forehead, and fondness in her eyes? Am I to love her the less because I may fail to win her? Is my heart to change towards her because fate may forbid her to be mine? No! Come what come may,' as the fellow cries at the play-house, I'll love her forever, and make her my own some day, — if Í can. I don't quite see how to set about it, I own. But some chance will favour me. Loving her, as I know I do; loving me, as I think she does; have I not reason to be happy now, and to hope for greater happiness in the future?" He argued himself into a very comfortable state of mind in this respect. Presently he felt a little less at ease, however, as he scowled, and muttered with clenched teeth, "But then, her grandmother!" and thereupon he gave expression to much vehement vituperation in regard to the nature and disposition of his noble kinswoman, the Dowager Countess of Dangerfield. "One thing, however, I know," he added presently. "She is but mortal, and she's to be frightened!" The Captain was thinking merely of his adventure as a highwayman in Piccadilly. Lady Dangerfield had been alarmed on that occasion, no doubt. How much more terrified she had been when the earthquake dispersed her guests, Captain Brabazon was not yet fully informed. Ir astonishes thoughtless people to find that some of the wisest men in talking and writing, commit some of the greatest errors in action. These thoughtless people forget that it is an immense advantage for a man in talk or writing to have himself always before his mind as a per- From The Saturday Review. ing the graceful emotions befitting the POPPING THE QUESTION ON THE STAGE. occasion is still a thing for the imagination THERE is a question which is assumed to picture, not for more flippant eye and by ingenuous youth to be so universal ear to witness. Therefore it belongs that, in fact, one-half of the human race is rather to the novel than even to the dosupposed to ask it of the other half. The mestic drama. There is plenty of loveboy who contemplates his future at all making on the stage, but the proposal takes for granted that he will some day ask either precedes the action as when some woman to marry him, and all girls Millamant is all the way through considersuppose the time will come when they ing whether she shall accept Mirabell or must answer Yes or No. The question, not, and triumphing in her power; "I then, being at once inevitable and of so think I must resolve after all not to have momentous a nature, and so much more- you; well, I won't have you, Mirabell over hanging on the way of putting it, and I'm resolved - I think you may go. Ha, the whole subject, too, being shrouded in ha, ha! what would you give that you mystery-for, to the eternal honour of could help loving me!" or, like murder, the sex who are questioned, a cloud rests it comes off behind the scenes; or it is on the manner and method of their ques- arranged, as the newspapers say, by the tioners, and a delicate reticence forbids the lady's papa. Thus Boniface offers his illumination which experience might throw daughter and her two thousand pounds to on this point—it is no wonder that youth Gibbet. "And what think you, then, of especially should find the subject interest- my daughter Cherry for a wife?"-the ing, even when treated by fancy and in the highwayman, as great a master of policy abstract; and should welcome that read- and of his feelings as his august betters in ing or dramatic representation through such contracts, replying, Look'ee, my which alone can be derived hints, and the dear Bonny; Cherry is the goddess I more definite and masterly instruction of adore; but it is a maxim that man and example, as to the mode in which the or- wife should never have it in their power deal should be gone through when the to hang one another, for, if they should, critical moment in their own personal his-heaven have mercy on them both." tory arrives. Nor does this natural spirit But such neatness and readiness, such of inquiry miss its satisfaction. Fiction perception of the situation, as is here disindeed has made it at once a duty and a played, is no part of the conventional delight to put young persons of either sex stage-proposal. It is the booby, the counin the way of acquitting themselves with try bumpkin, the fop, the blunderer who credit in what is conventionally assumed makes his offer on the boards. Everybody to be the most difficult, embarrassing, is familiar with Lord Dundreary's offer, and even crucial moment of existence; suggesting infinite alternatives, and adapting itself to every humour, so that no one need be driven, for want of example or precedent, to play a part for which nature has not fitted him. Considering how the drama undertakes to enact before men's eyes every supreme moment incident to humanity, the art of making proposals ought by this time to be easy, and a study of genteel comedy ought to precede every declaration; but in fact, and with one exception, it is not to the drama that the lover anxious to acquit himself with distinction should turn. Tragedy rarely deals in such amenities, and its precedents are full of ill omen; while comedy will only treat the affair as a joke. There is unfortunately an element of the ludicrous everywhere haunting this subject, rendering all direct representation hazardous. Playwrights shirk it for their dignified lovers, and actors mistrust their powers of subduing the spectator to any gravity of sympathy. A proposal involv and his philosophical preparation for either |