They were engaged as usual in this artistic pastime on the evening of the day on which that question of taste in novels had arisen, and apropos of a view of the pride of Milan Percy asked, ‘ Would you like to be mar ried in a cathedral, Clare ?’ ' That would depend on who was to marry me,” was her reply. ‘lf it was a Prince, or even an Hereditary Grand Duke, it would be appropriate enough.’ ‘I see ; but with a poor fellow like me you would prefer a Register Office.’ Of course she told him (for she was not High Church; the cult, indeed, was un known in Stokeville) that the simple rites of a Register Office with him would be more satisfactory than the most gorgeo s solem nities with an Imperial Majesty. * That is spoken like yourself,’ he said ; * you would never throw me over for anyone else, would you ?’ ‘ Anyone else ?’ she echoed, in a tone that seemed to imply that in all the world, in the matrimonial market at least, there was nobody to be compared with Mr Percy Fibbert. ‘ And you’d stick to me in spite of everybody ; * though father and mother and a’ should go mad,’ as you were singing yesterday ?’ ‘ My dear Percy, you must be going mad yourself,’ she answered, earnestly. ‘ Whatdo you mean ?’ ‘ Well, I mean to be your husband, Patty; but even yet there may b-i obstacles ; don’t look frightened, darling ; I mean there may be endeavors to cause a slip between the cup an( i> —there he kissed her, as though he were composing a picture letter. ‘ It’s a dead secret, and there may be nothing in it, and if there is it don’t matter, for you are mine for ever; but things are not looking quite so rosy as they were for us.’ ‘ But, Percy, I can’t imagine what you mean. Papa has given his consent. You don’t suppose that anything which happened to-day —such a miserable trifle

‘No, no, darling,’ he interrupted smiling, ‘ you needn’t look so like a startled fawn. Your father, as you say, has consented, though uot very graciously, I am afraid. 