entitled "Wild Weather." It was what is called by dealers an "important work," and represented night closing in over a sea lashed into fury by the sweep of a stormy wind. So faithfully was the scene of terror and elemental confusion rendered that it was like nature itself, and the imaginative eye almost looked for the rising waves to tumble liquidly from the painted canvas and break on the floor in stretches of creamy foam. Gentle Miss Leigh was conscious of a sudden beating of the heart as she looked at this masterpiece of form and colour,--it reminded her of the work of Pierce Armitage. She ventured to say so, with a little hesitation, and Jocelyn caught at the name. "Armitage?--Yes--he was beginning to be rather famous some five-and-twenty years ago--I wonder what became of him? He promised great things. By the way"--and he turned to Innocent--"YOUR name is Armitage! Any relation to him?" The colour rushed to her cheeks and fled again, leaving her very pale. "No," she answered. He looked at her inquisitively. "Well, Armitage is not as outlandish a name as Amadis de Jocelyn," he said--"You will hardly find two of ME!--and I expect I shall hardly find two of YOU!" and he smiled--"especially if what I have heard is anything more than rumour!" Her eyes filled with an eager light. "What do you mean?" He laughed,--yet in himself was conscious of a certain embarrassment. "Well!--that a certain 'Innocent' young lady is a great author!" he said--"There! You have it! I'm loth to believe it, and hope the report isn't true, for I'm afraid of clever women! Indeed I avoid them whenever I can!" A sudden sense of hopelessness and loss fell over her like a cloud--her lips quivered. "Why should you do so?" she asked--"We do not avoid clever men!" He smiled. "Ah! That is different!" She was silent. Miss Leigh looked a little distressed. He went on lightly. "My dear Miss Armitage, don't be angry with me!" he said--"You are so delightfully ignorant of the ways of our sex, and I for one heartily wish you might always remain so! But we men are proverbially selfish-and we like to consider cleverness, or 'genius' if you will, as our own exclusive property. We hate the feminine poacher on our particular preserves! We consider that women were made to charm and to amuse us--not to equal us. Do you see? When a woman is clever--perhaps cleverer than we are--she ceases to be amusing--and we must be amused! We cannot have our fun spoiled by the blue-stocking element,--though you--YOU do not look in the least 'blue'!" She turned from him in a mute vexation. She thought his talk trifling and unmanly. Miss Leigh came to the rescue.