"I want to know," she said to herself at last, "whether those two are really going to be married to-morrow, or whether it is only a dream. But there, I wash my hands of it all; I feel to-night as if I hate everybody--papa, mamma, Harry for not killing that horrible jelly-fish of a creature. Oh, he's dreadful! And Julia, for letting herself be led as she is, when she might have married dear James Magnus, and been happy. No! poor girl, I must not blame her. She felt that she could not love him, and perhaps she is right." "Good night, Julia darling; I'm going to bed," she whispered, and, seating herself by her sister, she clasped her waist, and placed her lips against her cheek. "To bed? so soon?" said Julia, dreamily. "Soon! It is past eleven. Will you come and sit with me in my room, or shall I come to you?" Julia shook her head. "Not to-night--not to-night," she said softly; and she clasped her sister in her arms. "Good night, Cynthia dear. Think lovingly of me always when I am gone." "Lovingly, Julie, always," whispered Cynthia; "always, dear sister." "Always--whatever comes?" whispered Julia. "Always, whatever comes. Shall I come and sit with you, Julie; only for an hour?" "No," said Julia, firmly, "not to-night. Let us go to our rooms." They went out of the drawing-room with their arms round each other's waists, till they were about to part at Julia's door, when the final words and appeals that Cynthia was about to speak died away upon her lips, and she ran to her own chamber, sobbing bitterly, while, white as ashes, and trembling in every limb, Julia entered hers. "Poor, poor Julie!" sobbed Cynthia; and for a good ten minutes she wept, her maid sniffing softly in sympathy till she was dismissed. "Go away, Minson," cried Cynthia; "I don't want you any more." "But won't you try on your dress again, miss?" said the maid in expostulation. "No, Minson, I only wish it was fresh mourning, I do," cried the girl, passionately; and the maid withdrew, to meet Julia's maid on the stairs, and learn that she never knew such a thing before in her life--a young bride, and wouldn't try on her things. Cynthia sat thinking for a few minutes, and then a bright look came into her eyes. "He didn't come to-night," she said. "He was cross about Julie. I wonder whether I could see the bright end of a cigar if I looked out over the gardens. Oh, the cunning of some people, to give policemen half-sovereigns not to take them for burglars, and lock them up." As she spoke, Cynthia drew up her blind softly, and holding back the curtain, ensconced herself in the corner, so that she could look down into the gardens, her window being towards the park. It was a soft, dark night, but the light of a lamp made the objects below dimly distinct, and she rubbed the window-pane to gaze out more clearly, saying laughingly to herself-- "I wonder whether Romeo will come!" Directly after she pressed her face closer to the glass.