which lay within his own, and swore that he would be at Shandy Hall on the day before his return to Mount Pleasant.  So he was; and there he found the narrow-waisted lieutenant, not now bedecked with sash and epaulettes, but lolling at his ease on Mrs. Leslie’s sofa in a white jacket, while Marian sat at his feet telling his fortune with a book about flowers.

“Oh, a musk rose, Mr. Ewing; you know what a musk rose means!”  Then she got up and shook hands with Mr. Cumming; but her eyes still went away to the white jacket and the sofa.  Poor Maurice had often been nearly broken-hearted in his efforts to manage his free black labourers; but even that was easier than managing such as Marion Leslie.

Marian Leslie was a Creole—as also were Miss Jack and Maurice Cumming—a child of the tropics; but by no means such a child as tropical children are generally thought to be by us in more northern latitudes.  She was black-haired and black-eyed, but her lips were as red and her cheeks as rosy as though she had been born and bred in regions where the snow lies in winter.  She was a small, pretty, beautifully made little creature, somewhat idle as regards the work of the world, but active and strong enough when dancing or riding were required from her.  Her father was a banker, and was fairly prosperous in spite of the poverty of his country.  His house of business was at Kingston, and he usually slept there twice a week; but he always resided at Shandy Hall, and Mrs. Leslie and her children knew but very little of the miseries of Kingston.  For be it known to all men, that of all towns Kingston, Jamaica, is the most miserable.

I fear that I shall have set my readers very much against Marian Leslie;—much more so than I would wish to do.  As a rule they will not know how thoroughly flirting is an institution in the West Indies—practised by all young ladies, and laid aside by them when they marry, exactly as their young-lady names and young-lady habits of various kinds are laid aside.  All I would say of Marian Leslie is this, that she understood the working of the institution more thoroughly than others did.  And I must add also in her favour that she did not keep her flirting for sly corners, nor did her admirers keep their distance till mamma was out of the way.  It mattered not to her who was present.  Had she been called on to make one at a synod of the clergy of the island, she would have flirted with the bishop before all his priests.  And there have been bishops in the colony who would not have gainsayed her!

But Maurice Cumming did not rightly calculate all this; nor indeed did Miss Jack do so as thoroughly as she should have done, for Miss Jack knew more about such matters than did poor Maurice.  “If you like Marion, why don’t you marry her?”

Miss Jack had once said to him; and this coming from Miss Jack, who was made of money, was a great deal.

“She wouldn’t have me,” Maurice had answered.

“That’s more than you know or I either,” was Miss Jack’s reply.  “But if you like to try, I’ll help you.”

With reference to this, Maurice as he left Miss Jack’s residence on his return to Mount Pleasant, had declared that Marian Leslie was not worth an honest man’s love.

“Psha!” Miss Jack replied; “Marian will do like other girls.  When you marry a wife I suppose you mean to be master?”

“At any rate I shan’t marry her,” said Maurice.  And so he went his way back to Hanover with a sore heart.  And no wonder, for that was the very day on which Lieutenant Ewing had asked the question about the musk rose.

But there was a dogged constancy of feeling about Maurice which could not allow him to disburden himself of his love.  When he was again at Mount Pleasant among his sugar-canes and hogsheads he could not help thinking about Marian.  It is true he always thought of her as flying round that ball-room in Ewing’s arms, or looking up with rapt admiration into that young parson’s face; and so he got but little pleasure from his thoughts.  But not the less was he in love with her;—not the less, though he would swear to himself three times in the day that for no earthly consideration would he marry Marian Leslie.

The early months of the year from January to May are the busiest with a Jamaica sugar-grower, and in this year they were very busy months with Maurice Cumming.  It seemed as though there were actually some truth in Miss Jack’s prediction that prosperity would return to him if he attended to his country; for the prices of sugar had risen higher than they had ever been since the duty had been withdrawn, and there was more promise of a crop at Mount Pleasant than he had seen since his reign commenced.  But then the question of labour?  How he slaved in trying to get work from those free negroes; and alas! how often he slaved in vain!  But it was not all in vain; for as things went on it became clear to him that in this year he would, for the first time since he commenced, obtain something like a return from his land.  What if the turning-point had come, and things were now about to run the other way.

But then the happiness which might have accrued to him from this source was dashed by his thoughts of Marian Leslie.  Why had he thrown himself in the way of that syren?  Why had he left Mount Pleasant at all?  He knew that on his return to Spanish Town his first work would be to visit Shandy Hall; and yet he felt that of all places in the island, Shandy Hall was the last which he ought to visit.

And then about the beginning of May, when he was hard at work turning the last of his canes into sugar and rum, he received his annual visit from Miss Jack.  And whom should Miss Jack bring with her but Mr. Leslie.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Miss Jack; “I have spoken to Mr. Leslie about you and Marian.”

“Then you had no business to do anything of the kind,” said Maurice, blushing up to his ears.

“Nonsense,” replied Miss Jack, “I understand what I am about.  Of course Mr. Leslie will want to know something about the estate.”

“Then he may go back as wise as he came, for he’ll learn nothing from me.  Not that I have anything to hide.”

“So I told him.  Now there are a large family of them, you see; and of course he can’t give Marian much.”

“I don’t care a straw if he doesn’t give her a shilling.  If she cared for me, or I for her, I shouldn’t look after her for her money.”

“But a little money is not a bad thing, Maurice,” said Miss Jack, who in her time had had a good deal, and had managed to take care of it.

“It is all one to me.”

“But what I was going to say is this—hum—ha.  I don’t like to pledge myself for fear I should raise hopes which mayn’t be fulfilled.”

“Don’t pledge yourself to anything, aunt, in which Marian Leslie and I are concerned.”

“But what I was going to say is this; my money, what little I have, you know, must go some day either to you or to the Leslies.”

“You may give all to them if you please.”

“Of course I may, and I dare say I shall,” said Miss Jack, who was beginning to be irritated.  “But at any rate you might have the civility to listen to me when I am endeavouring to put you on your legs.  I am sure I think about nothing else, morning, noon, and night, and yet I never get a decent word from you.  Marian is too good for you; that’s the truth.”

But at length Miss Jack was allowed to open her budget, and to make her proposition; which amounted to this—that she had already told Mr. Leslie that she would settle the bulk of her property conjointly on Maurice and Marian if they would make a match of it.  Now as Mr. Leslie had long been casting a hankering eye after Miss Jack’s money, with a strong conviction however that Maurice Cumming was her favourite nephew and probable heir, this proposition was not unpalatable.  So he agreed to go down to Mount Pleasant and