Of which process it may fairly be conjectured that it would have ended in total defeat for Mr. Thorne, or in mutual and inextinguishable hatred, or, it might be--for he was hard as well as capricious--in a Lottie like a broken bow. In neither case a very desirable result. Godfrey Hammond, looking at his watch, and going in the direction of the tent where the potatoes were, perceived Mrs. Rawlinson, and endeavored to elude her. He loathed the woman, as he candidly owned to himself, because he had once nearly approached the other extreme. It was a horrible thought. What had come over him and her? Either she was strangely and hideously transformed--and how could he tell that as fearful a change might not have come to him?--or else his youth was a time of illusion and bad taste. That perfect time, that golden dawn of manhood, when the world lay before him steeped in rosy light, when every pleasure had its bloom upon it, and every day was crowned with joy--Good Heavens! was it _then_ that he cared to dance the polka in Fordborough drawing-rooms with Mrs. Rawlinson--Lydia Lloyd as she was of old? Little did that fascinating lady think what disgust at the remembrance of his incredible folly was in his soul as he met her. For she caught him and shook hands with him, and would not let him go till she had reminded him of old times as if they might have been yesterday and might be again to-morrow. He smiled, and blandly made answer as if they two were a pair of antediluvian polka-dancers left in a waltzing age to see another generation spinning gayly round. (He could dance quite as well as Horace when he chose.) Mrs. Rawlinson did not like his style of conversation, and said abruptly, "I had a talk with Mr. Thorne about half an hour ago. I _was_ surprised! Mr. Horace Thorne seems to keep the old man quite in the dark." "Mr. Horace Thorne is a clever fellow, then," said Hammond dryly. "Oh, you know all about it, I dare say. But really, I _did_ think it was too bad. He didn't seem ever to have heard Miss Blake's name. He certainly didn't know her when he saw her." "Unfortunate man! For Miss Blake so decidedly eclipses the Fordborough young ladies that such ignorance is deplorable. No doubt you did what you could to remove it?" "Well"--Mrs. Rawlinson tossed her blue bonnet--"I really thought I ought to give him a hint: it seemed to me that it was quite a charity." "A charity--ah yes, of course. Charity never faileth, does it?" And Hammond raised his hat and bowed himself off. [TO BE CONTINUED.] THE DREAM OF ST. THERESA. Have you heard of the dream that she had-- Theresa the saintly? Come, listen, ye good and ye bad! And heed it not faintly. A weird, awful woman she saw, And wondered what brought her: In one hand she bore flaming straw, In the other hand water.