of the chase or the combat was passing through the minds of these creatures, as when, in the Lay of the Last Minstrel,

"The stag-hounds, weary with the chase,

Lay stretched upon the rushy floor,

And urged in dreams the forest race

From Teviot Stone to Eskdale Moor."

Ruminant animals, we are told, dream less; but even they are sometimes so affected, especially at the period of rearing their young. If we descend lower in the scale of life, we shall probably find the same phenomena to prevail; and judging from analogy, we should suppose dreaming to be almost a universal law, nearly as universal as sleep itself. It cannot be supposed that revelations are being made to dogs and cows-that Ponto is being supernaturally taught as to when and how to seize a stranger, or that the peaceful supplier of your milk and cream is being warned by her guardian-angel how best to avoid the cattle-disease. As these animals dream, and as it cannot be urged or maintained that their dreams are other than physical phenomena, it surely behoves us to be chary how we extend our belief in the reality of dreamland. Mr. Seafield's book is very interesting and complete; but to those who have a humbling consciousness that in every relation of what we call life we see but through a glass darkly; who puzzle under some of the uncertainties of the dreamer in Maud, as to whether or no we are puppets moved by an unseen hand; and who have the deeply-rooted conviction that, determine, plan, hope, and scheme as we may, it is something higher than mere human will to which results are due-such thinkers as these will neither wish to extend to dreamland an importance to which it is not entitled, nor to widen the scope of the solemn mysteries environing all mortal lives.

་་,༔

'.

417

David Chantrey.

BY W. G. WILLS,

AUTHOR OF "THE WIFE'S EVIDENCE," ETC.

CHAPTER XXXI.

TABOO.

"BE fast-be fast-be not too fast," is the inscription upon the walls of Society. Society, that pure priestess, is indulgent and liberal enough to her vestals. They may read all the small type of the newspapers, and discuss its saintly contents without reproach......

They may stare at the heroines of the demi-monde, investigate their career in an inquisitive or philosophical spirit, and model from their costume the shape of a hat or cloak. They may learn slang from the males of their family, and come to use it with the familiar grace of low life above stairs, yet be in vogue, and stand within the chaste vestibule honoured and cherished. Much shall be forgiven; but once outstep the border, they dance along-once touch unholy ground with the sole of the foot, and the priestess very decorously puts them out, and shuts her gates on them for ever.

Often, therefore, the climax of social popularity is closest to this dire expulsion. The fatal step is taken in the very glow of enjoyment and success. Then follows an éclat which really we think of with a nervous shudder; the sentence is so mercilessly executed, in such cold blood. It is so paramount to gratitude, to pity, to friendship, and even to kindred, that we think of it with wonder, with aversion, yet with a forced approval.

We have various useful and delicate phrases for indicating certain stages in this via dolorosa, which leads to outer darkness for ever. We say of the offender, "she begins to be talked about," or "rather blown upon," or "she is too fast." Then be sure that taboo is gathering over that woman's head; presently ladies forget to bow to her, and by and by her name is banished from their lips, or escapes from them with a blush.

The ban is then pronounced; it is not less terrible because shorn of circumstances and ceremonies. Then, be the sinner as beauteous as a Pleiad, it is granted to the very dryest stick of spinsterhood to sniff at her and stiffen at her gracious bow. Though she be brilliant and intellectual as a De Staël, the cackle of a red-nosed miss can frighten her, and silence her. She who despised women, and in intellectual preeminence might verily be crowned their queen, would fawn on the skirts

of vulgar matrons for their notice, their countenance, their card on her hall-table. But the excommunication is merciless, and all female donkeydom kicks the poor lioness to death.

It is right and needful that such a law should be. Were it administered by men indeed, it would soon, we fear, grow lax and partial; but in the hands of our ladies it is Median; and Society, that pure priestess, has taken no spot hitherto upon her white robes.

What shall we liken it to, this great and inexorable law-this statute administered by feeble and vacillating hands, yet strong and cruel, because based on fear-rigid, because cemented by pride? It is like quarantine in the idle, luxurious East, where cowardice and fear of death are found an abiding principle, while justice and moral right faint and doze all day. We fear the plague-spot with a wholesome alarm which tramples on pity, and we hunt the fugitive from our shining streets, though but yesterday we caressed and loved her.

To what shall we liken the tabooed one? She is like a leper sitting without the walls. Nay; she is a ghost, and this taboo is social death.

If we glance at Madeline Masterton's conduct, and her social position before this period, we shall find many palliations, if palliations be to the purpose when the penalty was unmitigated. Let us at the outset give full weight to the fact that she had no mother. So she carried the bridle upon her neck, and let her will gallop whither it listed. She made her own laws, and, as far as her light went, adhered to them. The arts of husband-catching she openly despised, perhaps too openly; and she would sit in the conspicuous background, singular in her independence and self-resource. Her clever pencil brought her into notice; her strong character and her distingué beauty would not suffer her to be neglected. She was noticed enough by both ladies and gentlemen in her conspicuous seclusion, and the poor girl no doubt found her own secret satisfaction in this. She was bold and independent, too apt perhaps to be defiant when there was no one to take up her gauntlet. All this singularity was most injurious, a miscalculation and a mistake; it exposed her to dangers which more designing young ladies would have escaped. If she wanted a mother, she had a father whose example and character were most pernicious. Mr. Masterton was a bad child'sguide. He was fond of her and proud of her; but what influence he had, had poison in it. He had a low standard in his mind of what a lady should be, and he sought to make her such a woman as his gross taste could comprehend, - -a girl, sir, with no nonsense about her, dressy, rakish, and fast; such a lady as he could admire in his younger days, and which he admired yet. All men have their ideal of what a woman ought to be, and this was Mr. Masterton's. He gave her dress and jewelry, which he procured upon credit, and never paid for from that day to this. The man had a genius for winning a tradesman's confidence, with his swaggering patronage and his generous expansion of chest. When he introduced into society his Madeline then all

rustling and glittering, so tall, so bold, and so fast-he thought she was worthy of an earl's hand and heart, and he watched her with delight and pride.

He was agent to three large properties, being an excellent business man; he had consequently a large circle. It was his end and aim in life to know great people, and no man of strong purpose can fail altogether in his end and aim. He knew many people of position, and would have you believe that he knew all. Yet Mr. Masterton could not have been much respected by gentlemen, for it was a fact that in their district club he had his name put up, and he was summarily black-balled. Like Dame Quickly, it seemed they could not abide swaggerers. But he was successful in bringing his daughter out into a fashionable circle; and perhaps she was all the more noticed by kind and influential hostesses from the fact that her only parent was a bad child's-guide.

Madeline first made acquaintance with the Major at Un House. She neither admired him nor sought him till he laid siege to her heart with kindness. Women can rise above flattery, resent patronage, despise position, and revolt at proffered love; but few, I believe, can withstand a long and persevering course of kindness. He was immensely taken by her, and he diligently sought to win her; but she never sought him. Her bold and random manner repulsed him at first, but again piqued and attracted him.

"She's an odd creature," he used to say; "overcharged with character, proud as Lucifer." She could be tamed by nothing but kindness. And the Major grew very kind. He had a humble and a graceful manner with ladies. When he was under their attractions his selfishness took the shape of an egotism which a woman does not like to slight, but rather indulges and fosters, for it flatters her with a subtle flattery, it is so sincere; and it exercises those qualities which beautify her sex more than bloom or symmetry. She is ever fain to be sympathising and comforting. The Major spoke to her as to his equal, and even his superior; yet he endeavoured to establish for himself a respect. He began to tame her with kindness, which he showed in a hundred small considerate acts. As a slight instance, we may state that on one occasion, when her colour-tubes were nearly all exhausted, he quietly sent to London, without her knowledge, and got her a fresh supply, which he gracefully presented to her, with many apologies for the liberty; on another occasion he was the means of selling a picture for her, and putting fifty pounds in her purse. He strove to stimulate her ambition as an artist, indeed, by every means within his power; but there was one proof of interest in her which evidenced that he had conquered her and remained on her mind. Watching his opportunity, he gave her friendly and respectful advice, and he told the young lady her faults with a daring candour.

Now I myself, and probably my reader, would take a very decided

aversion to any one presuming to show us such kindness as telling us our defects; and nothing seems to establish Miss Masterton's eccentricity more strongly than her conduct towards the Major when he took this liberty.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she gave him her hand, and said with a perfect absence of slanginess,

"You are a friend."

It really appeared, and the fact is quite beyond either my comprehension or explanation, that she liked him from that day forth. He acquired a great influence over her, and ultimately quite made a conquest. She trusted him implicitly, and made him her companion. A blameless courtship grew up between them, which was never subjected to unkind remarks; on the contrary, every one agreed that the Major was paying her legitimate attentions, and they seemed prepared to hear that it was a match.

Then came the incursions of the Blenheims-mother and daughter -to the house, and all was changed. The fickle Major's gaze was ravished by our brilliant little friend. Her pretty face, her exquisite French manner, as the ladies called it, her vivid small-talk, and those long attentive gazes contrasted too favourably with Madeline's manner, eccentric and abrupt, her slangy dialect, her sturdy pride, and also her ingrained slovenliness. Milly was tidy and trim as a fancy pigeon; and she was, as long as you did not bore her, a most diverting companion; whereas such talent as Miss Masterton possessed was not reducible to small-talk. She could be clever and bold and fast; but that indescrib able electric something which gives the harmony and edge to conversation was not present with her. There was a certain uneasy effort, a spirit of intellectual aggression rather than flow, which strained your mind and her mind, and interested neither. She had the boldness of secret nervousness, the restlessness of a secret anxiety to please. Milly rather sought to please and amuse herself; therefore she could please you. She could be silent and listen, and talk the subject out, whatever it might be, with a placid faith in its interest for the nonce. Madeline did not stand a chance with Milly in the social arena; yet in mind and passion Milly was a dwarf to her.

The Major deserted his old love, and gave Milly the triumph. All his flattering humility and his respectful attentions were gradually transferred to the little siren; and she accepted them as her due with an indifference that became her. She let her mother do the love-making. She only troubled herself to play croquet with the Major, and allow him to wait upon her.

He never thought, never dreamed of telling Milly her faults, I promise you.

Meanwhile Miss Masterton concealed her pain, and only suffered herself to writhe and frown in her own lonely room amongst her paints and her sketches. She would sit in her window watching the faithless