Makes no difference to me I assure you. Joanna, our carriage must be here by now, say good-bye and have done with it! Good-night, Maria, I'll see you don't expose me to this again!

Scene XII.—The guests have all taken leave with extremely frosty farewells; Mr. Tidmarsh is downstairs superintending their departure. Gwennie has been pardoned on Lord S.'s intercession, and dismissed, in much bewilderment, to bed. Mrs. Tidmarsh and Lord Strathsporran are alone.

Mrs. Tid. (hysterically). Oh, Lord Strathsporran, when I think how I——What can I ever say to you?

Lord Strath. Only, I hope, that you forgive my stupidity in blundering in here as I did, Mrs. Tidmarsh.

Mrs. Tid. It was a good deal your fault. If you had only said who you really were—if my husband had not been idiot enough to misunderstand—if Miss Seaton had been more straightforward, all this would never——!

"Sitting down heavily on a Settee."

Lord Strath. We were all the victims of circumstances, weren't we? But I, at least, have no reason to regret it. And, if I may ask one last indulgence, will you—a—let me have an opportunity of saying good-bye to Miss Seaton?

Mrs. Tid. She, she doesn't deserve—Oh, I don't know what I'm saying. Of course, Lord Strathsporran, anything, anything I can do to——I will send her down to you, if you will only wait. She shall not keep you long!

Lord Strath. (alone, to himself). It's an ill wind, &c. I shall have Marjory all to myself, now! To think that—but for a lucky blunder—I should be spelling out scarabs and things on the wrong side of that wall at this moment, and never dreaming that Marjory was so——Ah, she's coming! (Miss Seaton enters, looking pale and disconsolate.) Marjory, you've no idea what you've missed! I must tell you—it's too good to lose. What do you think all these good people have been taking me for? You'll never guess! They actually believed I was hired from Blankley's! Give you my word they did!... Why don't you laugh, Marjory?

Miss Seaton (faintly). I—I am laughing. No, Douglas, I'm not. I can't; I haven't the conscience to. Oh, I never meant you to know—but I must tell you, whatever comes of it! I believed it too, at first. (Tragically.) I did, Douglas!

Lord Strath. Did you though, Marjory? Then, by Jove, I must have looked the character!

Miss Seaton (timidly). I knew you—you weren't very well off, Douglas, and so I fancied you might——Oh, I know it was hateful of me ever to think such a thing, but I did. And you can never really forgive me!

Lord Strath. Couldn't think of it! Shall I tell you something else, Marjory? I've a strong impression that you will not be an inmate of this happy English household much longer.

Miss Seaton. I'm sure I shan't, from Mrs. Tidmarsh's expression just now. But I don't care!

Lord Strath. Don't be reckless. How do you know there isn't a moral lion about? And where will you go next, Marjory?

Miss Seaton (with a shrug). I don't know. I suppose to anybody who wants a Governess, and doesn't mind taking her without a reference, if there is such a person!

Lord Strath. Well, oddly enough, I fancy I know somebody who has been trying for a long time to find a young person of just your age and appearance, and might be induced to waive a reference on a personal interview. (Miss Seaton looks incredulous.)... Marjory, don't you understand? If I hadn't been such a pauper, I'd have spoken long ago, when we were up in Scotland together, only it didn't seem fair then. I—I daresay I've no better chance now; but, at least, I've more right to speak than I had, and—and—will you have me, Marjory? (She turns away.) I—I won't worry you, dear, if you really can't care about me in that way; but—but if you only could, Marjory, even a little!

Miss Seaton. Douglas!...

Same Scene—somewhat later.

Lord Strath. Not yet, Marjory—I can't let you go just yet!... Must I, really? Before I've said half what I wanted!... Well—in one minute, then. And you're coming to my people as soon as you can get out of this, Marjory; and I shall see you every day, till—till we shall never be separated any——Confound it!—who's that? [Mr. Tidmarsh enters suddenly.

Mr. Tid. Oh—er—Lord Strathsporran, sorry to interrupt you, but—hem—my wife, who's feeling too unwell to come down again, desires me to say that, in her opinion, Miss Seaton has been here quite long enough. [Miss Seaton escapes by the back drawing-room.

Lord Strath. I entirely agree with Mrs. Tidmarsh; but I am happy to say that Miss Seaton will not remain here very much longer, as she has just done me the honour of consenting to be my wife. Good night, Sir, and many thanks for a most er—eventful evening.

[He goes out.

Mr. Tid. (making an effort to escort him downstairs, but giving it up, and sitting down heavily on a settee instead). She'll be Lady Strathsporran! And I shall have to break it to Maria—after she's just gone in and stuck a month's salary and immediate notice on her pincushion! Oh, lor—as if my poor wife hadn't trouble enough to bear as it was!

THE END.

HARE-ING HIS DIPLOMACY.

As I have already conveyed, in a short note last week, the first night of the revival of Diplomacy, viz., Saturday, Feb. 18th, will be for ever memorable in the annals of the English stage in general, and in the reminiscences of Mr. John Hare in particular, whenever he may choose to give them to the public, It will also afford matter for a brilliant chapter in the second or third series of Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft's On and Off the Stage. A great night, too, for the eminent adapters Messrs. Scott and Stephenson, once known as "the Brothers Rowe," who rowed in the same boat.

"Three Men in a boat."

Never, at any time, has this version of the French play been so