Cashel Byron's Profession

"I wonder do we ever succeed really in communicating our thoughts to

one another. A thought must take a new shape to fit itself into a

strange mind. You, Mr. Professor, must have acquired special

experience of the incommunicability of ideas in the course of your

lectures and lessons."

Cashel looked uneasily at the water, and said in a lower voice, "Of

course you may call me just whatever you like; but--if it's all the

same to you--I wish you wouldn't call me professor."

"I have lived so much in countries where professors expect to be

addressed by their titles on all occasions, that I may claim to be

excused for having offended on that point. Thank you for telling me.

But I am to blame for discussing science with you. Lord Worthington

told us that you had come down here expressly to escape from it--to

recruit yourself after an excess of work."

"It doesn't matter," said Cashel.

"I have not done harm enough to be greatly concerned; but I will not

offend again. To change the subject, let us look at Miss Goff's

sketch."

Miss Carew had hardly uttered this suggestion, when Cashel, in a

business-like manner, and without the slightest air of gallantry,

expertly lifted her and placed her on her feet. This unexpected

attention gave her a shock, followed by a thrill that was not

disagreeable. She turned to him with a faint mantling on her cheeks.

He was looking with contracted brows at the sky, as though occupied

with some calculation.

"Thank you," she said; "but pray do not do that again. It is a

little humiliating to be lifted like a child. You are very strong."

"There is not much strength needed to lift such a feather-weight as

you. Seven stone two, I should judge you to be, about. But there's a

great art in doing these things properly. I have often had to carry

off a man of fourteen stone, resting him all the time as if he was

in bed."

"Ah," said Lydia; "I see you have had some hospital practice. I have

often admired the skill with which trained nurses handle their

patients."

Cashel made no reply, but, with a sinister grin, followed her to

where Alice sat.

"It is very foolish of me, I know," said Alice, presently; "but I

never can draw when any one is looking at me."

"You fancy that everybody is thinking about how you're doing it,"

said Cashel, encouragingly. "That's always the way with amateurs.

But the truth is that not a soul except yourself is a bit concerned

about it. EX-cuse me," he added, taking up the drawing, and

proceeding to examine it leisurely.