Cyril had spoken hotly of his dis-;
like to Marion's Mediterranean tom;,
and Marion's pride had been touched'
till she reminded him that she was eu [
tirely her own mistress, and might
probably continue so to the end of the j
chapter. Then ensued a quarrel, only
half serious on either side, a quarrel;
that a word or a look would have j
righted in a moment. But, uufortu- i
uately. Marion had to join her friends
the Wilimits, sooner than she antici
pated, and thus hurried off before she j
could say good-bye to Cyril and make j
things straight with one little smile.
The game of quarreling, when j
carried on between two young, ardent)
lovers, is a very pretty diversion, but
can not possibly Ik* played at a dis
tance. as these two found to their,
cost. Deprived of the fairy artillery
of glances, sigh, voices, and gestures,
and confined to the heavy ordinance,
of letters they could not bring things
to a happy conclusion. Ix*tiers were
first hot, then cold, then rare, then
non-existent, until one day Cyril wrote. !
after long science, to ask Marion how
long alio meant to play with ins affee
tions. Marion replied that if Cyril
considered their engagements as a
mere pastime, the sooner it was
broken off the better. Cyril wrote back
to release her from an engagement,
which he said he perceived bad in
come distasteful to her.
