drawing-room floor. Beyond this, again, were houses of a more ordinary kind.

In the early part of the day, before ennui drove him out to the Royal Promenade Rooms, Mr. Smurfitt had reconnoitred the street he lived in as far as his eye could reach. There were lodgings to let at every house, save at the pretty one directly in front; but though no card bearing the word "Apartments" was visible, the rooms, well furnished as they were, appeared tenantless.

"No prawns, and nothing to look at," growled Mr. Smurfitt, as he withdrew from the window, and prepared to sally forth.

This as far as relates to the latter part of his surly ejaculation—was the state of the case in the morning; but with evening a change came over the scene. As Mr. Smurfitt, half way through his bottle of port, was sitting in the twilight, meditating-is it necessary to say, upon prawns?-a gleam of light flashed across the street, and, looking round, he saw that the drawing-room opposite was no longer empty, and on a closer inspection he perceived a lady there.

A man may be as determined an old bachelor as he pleases; he may

harden his heart by constant intercourse with horse-hair, bristles, ropeyarn, wicker-work, and a forbidding-looking housekeeper; he may have no higher aspirations, or keener sense of enjoyment, than arise from the anticipation or the realisation of his dinner; but, for all that, if, on a dull evening, at the hour 'twixt dog and wolf, as the French call twilight, with no companion but his own thoughts, and a glass of good wine at his elbow, a determined old bachelor suddenly gets a glimpse of a charming woman, the chances are that curiosity, or some other feeling, will prompt him to try to improve that glimpse into something less transitory.

Whether this be a general rule or not, it at all events applied to Mr. Smurfitt. He had not gone down to the sea-side without being provided with a good pocket-glass, swung race-course or tourist fashion over his shoulders, in a polished leather case. He did not wear this instrument at dinner, but it hung within reach on the back of a chair, and now he put forth his hand and took it. The room he sat in was wrapt in obscurity; therefore, without being himself seen, he could use his telescope with impunity. Adjusting it to the proper range, he brought the face of the lady within the required focus. Mr. Smurfitt was astonished at her loveliness. She was the most beautiful creature his eyes had ever gazed on. She was making tea, and as she stirred her cup, a whiter or more delicate hand' it was impossible to behold. But her face, as the lamp-light fell upon it, riveted his attention. It was a perfect oval, with a cloven chin, a small, sweetly-shaped mouth, large lustrous eyes, whose lashes swept the cheeks, eyebrows of the most equal curve, a forehead of dazzling whiteness, and shining dark hair, the full volume of which, behind the arching braid, was imprisoned within a silken net, that kept it from wandering over the shoulders.

You may imagine how entranced Mr. Smurfitt was when I say that for five-and-thirty minutes without interruption (save once, to blow his nose, for he had a slight cold in his head; but he did it as gently as possible), he never took his eyes off the fair stranger. He might, indeed, have continued in the same attitude for as much longer, if a person dressed like a waiter had not entered the lady's room, removed the tea-things,

and then drawn down the blinds, leaving nothing to reward Mr. Smurfitt's perseverance but the light that shone through one or two casual chinks, an emanation, Mr. Smurfitt thought, from the lovely form within.

For Mr. Smurfitt to harbour such a thought betokened something detrimental to the continuance of the iron sway of Mrs. Bruff; and the sigh which he heaved as he returned to his port led to a like conclusion. He finished his port, nevertheless; and the rain having abated, smoked his cigar beneath his own verandah, his eyes turned wistfully all the while to the close-drawn jalousies. But Mr. Smurfitt took nothing by the latter motion, the slight streaks of light disappeared, and the lady's room was left in darkness. She was gone! Ah, whither? Presumptuous Smurfitt, what is that to thee? Ring for thy chamber-candlestick and betake thee, too, to thy couch! Mr. Smurfitt did ring; but it was to order his brandy-and-water. It was brought-and two wax-lights with it.

Of the last Mr. Smurfitt took no heed, nor did the smoking compound really engage his attention; for, though he sipped and stirred, and stirred and sipped, till, like Geoffrey Crayon under somewhat similar circumstances, nothing was left but the spoon, his mind was absent from the process. At length, when the jingling metal recalled his scattered senses, he rose and went to bed.

Though the rain had ceased, the wind continued fresh, and Mr. Smurfitt did not sleep so soundly as usual. A hearty dinner with no subsequent exercise, the prawn failure, the feminine apparition, and specula tions on strong tiles and chimney-pots, combined to disturb his rest; but after all, like most people who say they haven't slept a wink, he made it out pretty well, and got up with his accustomed alacrity, having always been an early riser. To his honour be it said-though perhaps Mrs. Bruff would not agree with me-his first movement was to go to the window and examine the house opposite. The examination was fruitless. No outward sign betrayed that any one was stirring; the jalousies, upstairs and down, were all hermetically closed. Mr. Smurfitt hummed a tune, but broke down in the middle; shaved, but cut himself; dressed, but forgot his boots, and went out for his morning walk in slippers. On his return, invigorated and hopeful, he sat down to breakfast. Another apology for absent prawns. Mr. Smurfitt could not suppress a growl, but on the whole he bore the announcement better than the waiter expected. There were mutton-chops, broiled ham, bloaters, muffins, toast, and coffee-and-and-something else-which arrived when these things were despatched. The long-looked-for crustaceans? Not a bit of it. They slumbered still in the bed of Ocean-but, released from her slumbers, there entered the room in which he had seen her on the previous evening, the lady of whom-whisper it not to Mrs. Bruff-he had been so constantly thinking..

Her morning dress was even more piquant than her evening attire, or perhaps daylight enabled Mr. Smurfitt to observe it more clearly; her face, too, seemed more radiant than when he saw it by lamp-light-it was like the freshness of the morning itself, Aurora in her car, Anadyomene rising from the sea-images which did not occur to Mr. Smurfitt, whose recollections were not classical. But, unfamiliar as he might be with Dr. Smith's dictionary, he fully appreciated female beauty, and mentally gave the palm to the unknown fair one over every woman in

the world. Woman? angel, rather! An angel of two-and-twenty! That seemed about her age.

But though never before caught in the toils of love-I need hardly say that he was fairly in for it now-Mr. Smurfitt behaved like an adept. Others of more impetuosity-younger men, it may be-would have asked the waiter to tell them who the young lady was that lived over the way-would have made some demonstration to attract her attention. Mr. Smurfitt did nothing of the kind. He kept his discovery perfectly quiet, and, that he might the better enjoy it, masked his position with a large arm-chair, behind which he stationed himself with his pocket-glass, observant of everything that took place in the lady's room.

She, wholly unconscious of being made "the cynosure of neighbouring eyes," pursued her avocations as calmly as when she knelt to her devotions. Like Mr. Smurfitt-though not on such gross materialsshe also breakfasted, and for her sake-absolutely for hers, and with no arrière pensée on his own account-Mr. Smurfitt wished she had had some prawns. If this generous desire does not reveal the intensity of Mr. Smurfitt's passion, I am at a loss to imagine what can! Just as the lady finished her breakfast, the servant who waited brought in a letter. She opened it eagerly, read it with a heightened colour, and smiled. Oh, how Mr. Smurfitt was moved by that heightened colour— how he envied the writer who had raised that smile! Presently, the letter having been consigned to her bosom, she changed her place, and sat down in that division of the bay-window which commanded a partial view of the Promenade and the distant sea. In that direction her eyes remained fixed, while those of Mr. Smurfitt were as steadfastly bent on her. What would he not have given to have seen those eyes turned, with the same expression in them, upon him! But this was not to be. An hour went by in this manner. Suddenly the lady rose and left the room, but not for long. In less than five minutes-believe it ye who have pretty wives-she returned with her bonnet on-a "love of a bonnet," I must say took another peep towards the sea, smiled more sweetly than before, and vanished.

Mr. Smurfitt came hastily forward from behind his arm-chair to watch her up the street, expecting every instant to see the street door open, through which, as he imagined, she must necessarily pass. But he waited and waited in vain! So quick of step, such eagerness as her air denoted, a minute-less-half a minute, ought to have sufficed for her reappearance; but five, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, and still she came not. At last he became convinced that she had made her exit in some other direction, though he was puzzled to think how that could be, for apparently there was no other entrance to the pretty little house but by the door immediately opposite.

This beautiful creature away, Mr. Smurfitt had no longer any inducement to remain at home. She was gone only for a walk. He would take a walk too. Possibly-nay, very likely they might meet. Should he take off his hat to her if they did? Should he presume upon the laisser aller of a watering-place, and attempt to make her acquaintance? He didn't know what he should do: he would be guided by circumstances. It is the wisest course in most cases-certainly the safest in that of Mr. Smurfitt. Once out of doors and on the Royal Promenade, he looked east and west, with his telescope to his eye, but nobody filled

its field at all resembling her he sought: he gazed shoreward, with the same result: two or three bathing women in blue gowns and crushed bonnets-but no gown or bonnet like hers; here and there a stooping figure picking up shells, but no figure that recalled her image-besides, the attitudes of the stooping figures were alike unfeminine and absurdimpossible ones for Mr. Smurfitt's Divinity!

With a less elastic step, Mr. Smurfitt continued his walk. He was in no mood for society, and turning away from the Royal Promenade Rooms, followed the road by the shore that led from Shingleton. For a mile or so he kept in the same direction then, being a bad walker and feeling tired, he sat down on a mound that overlooked the sea. The coast at this part was indented, the ground never more than five or six feet above the shore, and occasionally sinking to its level. Mr. Smurfitt watched the sea-gulls as they screamed to the rising gale or floated in the trough of the wave, wishing for wings like theirs, if not to flee away and be at rest, to fly to some place unknown and find the person he wanted. Without the aid of a pair of wings and only guided by his ears, he found what he sought-and more than he sought. During a temporary lull, as well of the elements as of the sea-birds' cry, Mr. Smurfitt fancied he heard voices near him. He listened, and was convinced of the fact. The clear, silver accents of woman, the deeper tones of man, fell on his ear -the latter shaped once-he thought-to the epithet "dearest!" Mr. Smurfitt turned towards the point from which the sounds proceeded, raised himself on his knees, stretched out his neck-" craned" I believe is the proper word, but Mr. Smurfitt's neck was very unlike a crane's—and saw, within a few feet of him, a hat and a bonnet. The hat was a stranger to him, but the bonnet-surely he had seen that before, and not an hour ago! In his anxiety to satisfy himself, Mr. Smurfitt leaned too far forward, toppled over, and rolled headlong on the beach!

A faint scream, something in a louder key, that fell harshly on Mr. Smurfitt's sensorium, and, as he lay struggling on his back, a vision of two persons hastily climbing the bank, were the reward of his curiosity. Before he could recover his legs, the "parties"-as Mr. Smurfitt inwardly defined them had regained the road and were hastening towards Shingleton; but remote as they already were, his suspicion respecting the owner of the bonnet was confirmed-and though dimmed by distance, which, in this instance, lent no enchantment to the view-the second retreating figure presented the outline of a well-made, active, vigorous young

man.

Morose and gloomy, Mr. Smurfitt returned to Shingleton. On the Royal Promenade, he met his acquaintance, The Twaddler. But that he wanted to ask a question, Mr. Smurfitt would have passed him: so he stopped.

"Good morning, sir," said The Twaddler; "hope you're well! Thought we should have met before! Blowy day again, sir-all against the prawns."

"Can you tell me," replied Mr. Smurfitt, not noticing what The Twaddler said, "who lives at the house next but one to the corner in Marine-street ?"

"Mr. Prigge, the M.C.," smirked The Twaddler; "his name's on the door. Had a call, hey? Have to drop your guinea! No escaping Mr. Prigge! Ha! ha! ha!"

Mr. Smurfitt had noticed the M.C.'s brass plate. "I don't mean there,” he grumbled; "opposite."

"Opposite! Next but one? Let me see!

Giant Hotel."

"I thought the hotel looked this way."

That belongs to The

"So it does, and the entrance is in the next street-Ocean-street." "How can that belong to the hotel, then?"

"Oh, there's a covered way to it. Behind the house you speak of is the Snuggery. Private part of the hotel. Just the same as if you were at home-no noise, no bustle. Newly married couples always go there." "But there's an entrance also in Marine-street?"

"Oh no! That's only a dummy. Never used. Knocker screwed down. Mere make-believe."

"Do you know any la-that's to say, any one now staying at The Giant ?"

"Let me see! Mrs. Carfiddle,-no,-she went away the day before yesterday. Mr. Plumps. He's there still. Saw him in his Spanish hat this morning. Lady Baggs is expected. Fine-looking person, Lady Baggs. Met her at Scarborough last autumn. Great addition to society"

Mr. Smurfitt waited to hear no more, but turned abruptly to go. "God bless me!"exclaimed The Twaddler, "how you've dirtied your coat! All down to the tails! What can you have been rubbing against? Allow me to brush it off!"

"Let it alone!" growled Mr. Smurfitt. "I shall do very servant!"

well. Your

"Rather bearish, I must say," soliloquised The Twaddler, as Mr. Smurfitt lumbered off, his back being stiff and painful people at fiftyfive don't tumble about with impunity.

Arrived at his own door, Mr. Smurfitt's first glance was directed towards the Snuggery window. There sat the Beauty, as placid as if she were carved in alabaster. A book was in her hand, but her eyes wandered from the page. Mr. Smurfitt changed his tactics. He cast his timidity to the winds, and, looking boldly up, took off his hat. The Beauty observed him. Surprise was the first expression on her face, but after a pause for recollection, it changed to displeasure; the colour rose to her cheek, she frowned angrily, and quietly moved away; she had, doubtless, recognised the awkward intruder of an hour ago. In her haste, however, to leave the window, she did not perceive that Mr. Smurfitt entered his lodging.

Whether he supposed this to be the case, or was determined not to be put down, may be a disputed question, but, at all events, Mr. Smurfitt behaved with less discretion than he had previously observed. It was not so much the ardour of passion that threw him on a headlong course asI am sorry to say—a sinister calculation. He had, in a manner, surprised the lady's secret, and wished to make her feel that he was master of it.

"That young fellow," said Mr. Smurfitt, "called me 'a confounded stupid fool!' She shall see I am not such a fool as he took me for. Wait till she comes back to the window!"

After a brief interval she did come back, utterly unaware that the person who had annoyed her was at that moment her vis-à-vis. From the position in which she sat, she could not see what took place in Mr. Smurfitt's room, unless her head was turned towards it. To make her do so