CHAPTER XVII.

THE FIRST QUARREL.

AT last there came a misunderstanding more serious than any that had yet occurred.

I have never yet described Sir Ralph de Courcy, and must give the reader some idea of his outward man and inward disposition. He was a very handsome man, there was no doubt of that; tall, fair, and extremely aristocratic in features and bearing; but I had no peculiar fancy for his expression, which was, at times, extremely supercilious and irritating, especially when you happened to differ from him in opinion.

To ladies his manner was remarkably ingratiating, as his disdainful manner completely vanished when in their society, and gave place to an air of deference and assiduity that procured him many fair advocates where the rougher sex were occasionally provoked into expressing rather uncomplimentary sentiments respecting him.

From the moment of their first acquaintance he had declared his unqualified admiration of Lady Duneden: and when he discovered that his attentions did

not particularly gratify Percy, he certainly rather increased than diminished them.

Now, Percy, in a general way, was by no means a squire of dames.

He was not a proficient in those thousand delicate little attentions that so win their way to a woman's favour; when he loved and respected a woman, there was no sacrifice he would not have made on her behalf: but he was not at all times waiting to act as bouquet-holder; he was not an adept in the use of the fan; he had neither a sentimental line ready for every occasion, nor did he write original poetry; and he was not incessantly on the qui vive to place chairs, pick up handkerchiefs, adjust cloaks, and perform all the numberless little offices that a pretty woman (or an ugly one either, for that matter) loves to receive, as a tribute due to her sex and charms.

Now Sir Ralph understood all these little arts to perfection; and to great skill in this particular line very much of his popularity was owing; for where he pleased to make himself very agreeable, there is no doubt he could be eminently so.

Nelly O'Brien was an impulsive, warm-hearted Irishwoman; open as the day herself, she looked not for evil motives in the conduct of others; she was young-lovely-frankly happy in the glow of bright sunshine that now lay thick on her innocent life. Admiration did not make her look coldly on those who thronged around her; nor did those petit soins, the tribute men so willingly pay to beauty, make her ruby lip curl with proud disdain.

She was pretty-she knew it-and she had no manner of objections to the pleasant dominion she thereby acquired. Therefore she accepted her tribute frankly

CHAPTER XVII.

THE FIRST QUARREL.

AT last there came a misunderstanding more serious than any that had yet occurred.

I have never yet described Sir Ralph de Courcy, and must give the reader some idea of his outward man and inward disposition. He was a very handsome man, there was no doubt of that; tall, fair, and extremely aristocratic in features and bearing; but I had no peculiar fancy for his expression, which was, at times, extremely supercilious and irritating, especially when you happened to differ from him in opinion.

To ladies his manner was remarkably ingratiating, as his disdainful manner completely vanished when in their society, and gave place to an air of deference and assiduity that procured him many fair advocates where the rougher sex were occasionally provoked into expressing rather uncomplimentary sentiments respecting him.

From the moment of their first acquaintance he had declared his unqualified admiration of Lady Duneden: and when he discovered that his attentions did

not particularly gratify Percy, he certainly rather increased than diminished them.

Now, Percy, in a general way, was by no means a squire of dames.

He was not a proficient in those thousand delicate little attentions that so win their way to a woman's favour; when he loved and respected a woman, there was no sacrifice he would not have made on her behalf: but he was not at all times waiting to act as bouquet-holder; he was not an adept in the use of the fan; he had neither a sentimental line ready for every occasion, nor did he write original poetry; and he was not incessantly on the qui vive to place chairs, pick up handkerchiefs, adjust cloaks, and perform all the numberless little offices that a pretty woman (or an ugly one either, for that matter) loves to receive, as a tribute due to her sex and charms.

Now Sir Ralph understood all these little arts to perfection; and to great skill in this particular line very much of his popularity was owing; for where he pleased to make himself very agreeable, there is no doubt he could be eminently so.

Nelly O'Brien was an impulsive, warm-hearted Irishwoman; open as the day herself, she looked not for evil motives in the conduct of others; she was young-lovely-frankly happy in the glow of bright sunshine that now lay thick on her innocent life. Admiration did not make her look coldly on those who thronged around her; nor did those petit soins, the tribute men so willingly pay to beauty, make her ruby lip curl with proud disdain.

She was pretty-she knew it—and she had no manner of objections to the pleasant dominion she thereby acquired. Therefore she accepted her tribute frankly

and graciously, after the manner of a young queen; and though the loving faith of her heart of hearts was fondly reserved for the man she had chosen from among all others, yet had she a winning smile and a soft word for those that she liked; and high among those so favoured ranked that gallant captain of Hussars, Sir Ralph de Courcy. In her very openness and guilelessness, Nelly was preparing pitfalls for herself; for was there not one whose fondest wish was that a net should be woven around this fair young creature, from whose skilfully hidden meshes there should be no escape? Alas! and alas! such an one there was.

A change has come over us all—a great change; too surely do I see and know it.

Silently and steadily an evil influence has been at work already the poisonous seed so secretly and treacherously sown-already is it producing its baneful fruit.

There is a deep gloom on Percy's noble foreheadhis eyes light not up as of old-his smile is rare, and but lip-deep-he is more prone to take offence-less kindly and forgiving than is his usual nature.

Sorrowfully I recognise the difference; Percy is still my true, affectionate friend; but there is a shadow of constraint over our daily intercourse, scarcely to be observed-scarcely to be described; but I feel it; and we have not for many a long day had one of our old, social colloquies over our much-loved pipes. I missed them very much at first; but I almost feel as if they would be awkward now.

Fairer, brighter, more than ever gay and joyous in her bearing, seems Nelly O'Brien; a playful smile is ever hovering about her arching lips, merry and