" Cousin Maud " " No; Maud."

•i Maud."

They paused again. He was still in thought, and looked into her eyes, not with the sight of intelligence, but with the sight of the physical eye merely. He nad aroused her confidence, her grati tude, her interest. She was looking at him with as much astonishment as though, upon turniDg her back, she found not the Weeslade and the Plain of Spears, but the streams and fertile land that lie around Damascus, and tbe long low line of the city's ruined walls against tne norihem sky.

Mutely she held out her hand to him He took it in silence, shook off hia absorbed manner, smiled softly on her, then the two resumed their walk. For that moment, from that hand-pres-ure, from that smile, from the soft H:gh which greeted that smile, and ihe firm breaitii g and measured step with .which he re-utned the walk, it was plain'thoir friendship hod been Healed. He knew he had in-pired her confidence, and she knew she felt faituin this new cousin friend, who had been a source of SUquiet to her in her childli >oci, and was destmod to be a source of eustentaliou aud strength to her in her maiden years. For a while they walked on in silence.

" And now, Maud, there is some detail I wish to speak to you about." "■Yes, lf

"You will of course continue 10 live hero-——"

"But lam uo longer '

■" she inter

rupted. " You will, of course, continue v> live here. I ►hall not set out for Egypt for a few day», and in that time I will tee that all things are put ia order for you here, I nnderstand ihut the lady who sat upon your right ia the Mrs Uraut alluded to in the win V

"Yes,

She is my only friend '

" Maud, your ouly friend :" " I mean, of course, William, after you*'* " That's a good child. Call me William always aoa U-atn to think of Mrs Grant as your second friend. I hope she will con tinue to stay with you. Do you think bJic will?" ......

" Oh, yes ; she has promised. She is and has been a great and a good friend to me. Ido not know what I shuuld bave done all through the last few month 9 but ior her. She has promised to stay with me as long as I like, and I kuow I shall like her to stay with me always."

He looked fixedly at the sleuder graceful figure by nia side—the iigure of the only wumau in the world in whom he felt interest — the interest of blood. The idea that he was heiid of too family felt new to him. He had ofieu tiied to realise it, before, but never uutil vow did he know what it was to have anyone de pendont upon his protection ; aod the person so depending being his beautiful cousin Maud, the filing was not only new, but sweet and purifying as well.

At length he said : "I wish I had not to go abroad ; but, Maud, when I came away from Kgypt 1 had intended to return, and left matters in such a state that my going back would cause the greatest con faeioc, and I must not, because I have now become rich, treat badly the c.flice so useful to me when I was poor. But I will be back to see that you are all right as soon aa ever I # can. Has your guardian, Mr Grey, any sons?" "No. He has no child. He never had a coild."

" He is married, of course ?"

"Yes, but he lost his wife in a dreadful accident that happened to a river fcteani boat some months ago."

•* Then he is a widower V " Yea "

Sir William's brows fell, and he bent his eyes on the ground for a few seconds. He raised hia head, and, partly closing his lids, looked dead ahead for a few seconds more.

" Your father's will was dated the 9th of June in this year. Had Mr Grey lost his wife tnen ?

" No. Not, I think, for some months after. Now I remember, Mr tJrey was here at the moment tue steamboat, on which his wife wan, blew up. I remember

now. That day we tent for Mr Grey ; Sir Alexander was raving about him and other things, and Mr Grey was on. the island when the vessel blew up. That night father became .delirious finally. I now ic collect it all." " So that your father, while in possession of his senses, did not know that Mr Grey had lost his wife 1" " No. Uoes it make any dillereuce ? Cannot a widower be guardian in a will ?" She dreaded to lose the protection she had been taught to rely on. " Oh, indeed he can. It makes not the least difference in the eyes of the law whether a man has a wife or not, as far as his appointment of guardian in a will goes. I was asking merely for information's sake. And now, Maud I think you had better go in. It is getting dark already, and I should like to have a little conversation with your guardian—your other guardian—before I leave By the way, at first I was puzzled to think why Sir Alexander did not leave yourself nnder the absolute control of Mr Grey, but I think I guess the reason. When the will was made yon were old enough to take care of y»ur self in all ordinary everyday maiters, and his feelings would not allow a daughter of his, a daughter of this house, to be under |the control of a bunker. I know that your father wits a little peculiar,

and had no friends or associates ot nis own

rank. He made Mr Grey guardian of Mies Midharst's foitune, but not, ot Mi-s Mid harst herself. It is my lucky ctiaucc to

occupy the latter flattering position. Good bye, now, Maud. I am staying at the 'Warfinger,' in Daneford. 1 ahull come over every day of the few I urn in this phuve to see you." They had now arrived at the library door. It opened slowly, and a man ap peared on the threshold, and stood still, as if transfixed. Neither of the others noticed the presence of the man in the doorway. Sir William went on : ■' Our meeting was very formal, and our greetings were very formal too. But we are good friends now, and loyal cousins. Cousins may be more affectionate, Maud, than strangers in blood. Good-day, Maud," s&id he, sto i >ping and kissing her white forehead lightly, '• Good-bye; and remember to take great care of yourself, and rely on me." She moved slowly away. He turned briskly to the library door, and, seeing the man on the threshold, said gravely : "Mr Grey, I am glad to have met you, and snail feel much obliged if you will favour me with a few moments' con versation."

Without saying a word. Grey re-entered the library ; the baronet followed him.

(To be Continued.)

He was wrappedtin dignity and an enor mous ulster, and he sailed along with the majesty of a line-of-battle ship under full canvas. Somehow all his dignity and majesty fell from him, as hailstones db from, a bald head, when a boot-black wen. up to him and said : "Say,, mister, you forgot to take oil the pawn-ticket often the collar of your ulster." -The boy didn't wait to be thanked for his information,

A NIGHT OF ADVENTURE.

It wts a- hot, weary morning at the far end of the London season. There were not very many carriages left in the Park or the streets; yet Zoe Conington, one of the greatest beauties in society, was driving down duety Oxford-Btreet. And she was crying, quietly, beneath the parasol which she held wall over her eyes. Presently the carriage turned up one of the substantial side stree'H, aad stopped in front of a very neat and prosperous-looking house. Tbe door was painted a dark green, and on it was a brass plate, bearing this inscription : "Mr Edgar's Home for Trained Nurses. 1' Mrs Conington quickly left her carriage,, rang the bell at the door, and was im mediately admitted, bhe was shown into the 'Voilice," where she found Mr Kdgar and his Ludy Superintendent, both ap parently very busy at large writing tables. "I want a nurse, Mr Edgar,' said Zoe Uonington, rather helplessly. She knew her eyes were red, and she did not like the feeling. "Certainly," said Mr Edgar; "what sort of case !" "It is for ray sister," said Zoe. " I really don't understand what's the matter. They say she has what they call amemia, and the doctor who attends her fears she will not live long. I believe he is an olci fogey, and dots Dot understand the case." " Toeu you want a nurse of experience ':" said Mr Kdg&r. "Kxactly," said Zoe eagerly; '"and I should be so glad if I could have one that'is ladylike as well —not a common hospital nurse. Yon ccc my sister is quite alone, without any lady friend ; and 1 can't go to her because her husbaud doesn't like me."

" Nnrec Harcourt," said Mr Edgar to the Lady Superintendent, who nodded and rang a belL " She ia exactly what you want," be added, turning to Zoe. "bhe is an ex perienced and clever am se, andaliidy. We don't have many like her. She belongs to a good family. I feel sure you will like her. Come in, Miss Harcourt," as the nurse thus named entered.

" What is the case, sir . ' said Nurse liar court.

" It is said to be anromia," " I can undertake that, 1 tliiuk, sir." " Of course you can, ' put in the Lady Superintendent. Zoe had quickly taken in the girl's appear ance. She was slender, active, with an intelligent and interesting face. Her features were not good, yet there was a charm of oolour about her. Shehad large and very dark eyes, and strong dark eye brows ; while her thick hair, cut quite short, was all bright with warm gold and red. This certainly was not Zoe's idea of a com mon hospital nurse. "I don't know whether I ought 'to say so," said she to the nurse, " but I don; t think tne doctor understands the case. Have you often nursed arj.'emia?" " Ye^ ; iv the hospital," said Nurse Har court ; "and 1 have had cases since in which it was present. I don't think I should be easily deceived in it."

"Then yoa must have my address," said Zoe ; " and write or telegraph to me direct, as you think fit. If there is any mistake being made in the treatment, I will send down a physician at once. Will you under take ttiis ?"

"Yes," said Nurse Harcourt, with a quick, bright smile ; " I think I can under take that. Shall I get ready, sir ?"

"What station?" asked Mr Edgar, armed with an "A, B, C," and a niagoin cent glass. " Lostayvil," eaidZoe, " somewhere near Peuzance ; a wretched little fishing place, teople ought not to go so far away from everybody. Ib there any chance of her getting there to-night 2" " Lostayvil—oh, yes ; she can get there at ten o'clock. The train starts in half an hour. She must have some sandwiches made up to take with her," he said to the Lady Superiaten dent, who rose and hurried awuy, pen in hand, to give orders. Mrs Goningtou drove to a telegraph office, and sent a "wire" to her broiher-in-law : " From Zoe Coninutoa, Hyde Park Gate, to Krtward Mertoun, The Old Hall, Lostayvil Your account of Agatha has alarmed me exceedingly. lam sending her a nutsj, as I think it may be a comfort. She will arrive at the Lostayvil Station about ten o'clock. If you cannot scad for her, she will find some conveyance."

Nurse Harcourt, dressed all in gray, with a gray veil over her bright hair and clever :ace, caught the express, and took her seat without any fuss or excitement, although she had ouly half an hour to get ready and reach the station iv. When she arrived at Loatayvil it was a clear, sweet night; the station seemed to stand alone on a fragrant and indistinct desert, with, no sign of any bouses near.

•■ Is there any thing come to fetch me from the Old Hall ?" asked she, in her clear, de termined young voice. " Notoing at all, miss " said the solitary porter ; and then, after a second's pause, during which he shouldered her box, "so I suppose yell go to the hotel." "No, indeed," said Ada, who im mediately suspected him of being in the pay of that same hotel. " I must go to the Old Hall to-night. I suppose I can gee some thing to drive in ?" " There's post-horses at the hotel," said the porter dubiously. " lake me there, then," said Ada, It seemed to her that she walked about a mile and a half after him over a lonely road. At lost they arrived at an inn entrance round which there were some signs of sleepy village life. After a stern interview with the dull landlord, Ada succeeded in getting him to have out a "po'shay" and two horses for her. A driver was extracted from the bar where he was drinking. He came ont surly, aud, getting on the box after Ada and her luggage had been waiting some time in the " shay," began to whip the horses. This amusement he continued to indulge in until they arrived at the "Old 'Hall," taking the horses at a rapid gallop, up hill and down' dale. The Old Hall stood high, with a wide lawn about it, dotted by clamps of fine trees. On the way Ada was was charmed by glimpses of the winding silver stream and the wooded hills about it. All was very lovely ; yet something in the aspect of the Old Kail made her shiver as she approached it. It was very dark ; only one window seemed dimly lit; the tront door appeared to be hermetically sealed. But Ada courageously rang and knocked, and while she waited for an answer filled up ♦he time by paying her snrly driver the fabulous sum he demanded of her. At last the door moved ; it opened slowly, and on the steps stood a tall man, " Are you the nurse t" " Yes," answered Ada, " I didn't suppose yon could get here to night* Well, come in." The coachman whipped up his horses in the familiar style and rattled away. A servant who looked like a groom came out apd lifted Ada's box into the hall. A lamp

stood on a table there, and by its light Ada

tried to discover what sort of a house she was in. She was standing in a big, old fashioned hall or house-place. Opposite her, his hands deeply buried in his packets, stood the man who was evidently master. ■"I told the maid to get a room ready for yon," he said. " The man shall light yon

no there, and you can see my wife in ihe morning, fchall he bring you some supper 2" "if yon please," said Ada. "First, I'll take off my hat, and if you will allow me I'll go to my patient at once." " Nonsense !" said Mr Mertoun ; " yon muet sleep after a journey." " But it is my duty to see har iirit, ii you please, sir." Ada followed the man-servant upstairs to a little bedroom where he left her, saying he would bring her some supper. She washed her hands and combed out her bright hair. When he came back she said : " Shall I find Mr Mertoun down stairs 1" " He's gone to his own room," said the groom, " and he says missus is asleep, and not to be disturbed." " Which is her room ':" a^ked Ada. " I must know, because I have come clown to nurse her." " I'll show you the do>r," said the man. He led her a little way a!on2 a corridor, and pointed up a fehort staircase. " lit- door on tlie lefc," he said, and immediately hurried oil', currjiug his light with him.

" This is a queer house," thought Ada. However, she found her way back to her own room by the glimmer of light from its doorway. Then, taking tier cmdle. she went straight to the dooi of the room the. man had shown her, Whe knocKed gently : there was no auswer, f>o shu quietly turned tae handle aud looked in. A solitary candle lit a la'ge room ; she could hiv oimly perceive that on cLe bed lav awoiuaii who, seeing her, started up ac if in te.-ror, and then fell, helplessly baci again. Evidently thia was the sick room. Ada shut the door, putdowa her candle, and ap proached the bed. " Uon't be frightened, "she said ; " lam s nurse your sister has sent down to lake care of you."

'•I thought you were a spirit," said Agatha llertoun ; "I have had strange visions to-day." Xhen she relapsed into a silence, and seemed to forget Ada's pre sence, Attei awhile she spoke agaia. "1 am dying," she said. Ada went close to her and looked moo her eyes. They were very strauge. Sud denly the unhappy woman was seized with a violent sickness. Ada, with her quick wits, noticed some things which made her wonder. When her patient, weary and exhausted, lay back again on her pillow, she began to make a tour of the ruorn. Ihere were a great many bottles ?n diiferent places. She took out all the corks and smelt at the con tents. Suddenly, while thu-s eugagexl, she happened to look toward the bed, and met Agatha's eyes hxed on her with a gaze iuli ot some extraordinary meaning ot intelli gence. It almost frightened even brave Ada. She put down the bottles quickly and went to the bedside. But Agatna had closed her eyes, as if too weak to keep them open. .Looking earnestly at her, Nurse Har court realized how wonderfully lovely she was, in spite of the deadly pallor which lay on her face. Suddenly the sickness catue again ; aud then a violent spasm. " Tnis is a queer sort of anaemia," said Ada to herself; and, after a long look at her patient, began to smell at the physic bottles. Just then she heard a faint sound at the door. Hastily approaching it and opening it, she saw Mr Mertoun disappearing through the opposite door. "He wanted to watch me," she thought. " Now, what can this meau2" She locked the door inside and continued her investigations. Sud denly she came upon a bottle iuside a cup board, nearly empty, the smell from which almost made her cry out. Bai she remem bered her sick patient and refrained. She merely put tbe Dottle into her pocket, and ihen, without hunting any more, went back to watch poor Agatha. The colour of her iace grew steadily worse, and her weakness wa.s rapidly increasing. " What on earth am I to do ?" exclaimed Nurse Harcourt at last, " in this out-of-the way place 1 I can't see her die before lay eyes. Xf 1 could only get the doctor !"

She had spoken outloud, thinking Agatha quite unconscious. But she was not. .She opeued her eyes and appeared to express something by their earnest gaze. Ii seemed aa if she understood Ada's words.

"It's the only thing to be done, I believe," said Ada to herself; " and I'll do it." Sue took out her watch and looked at it—half past three. Going to the window, b'ae drew the curtain a little aside. There was a faiut gray haze all over the world ; but the light would be enough to rind one's way by, aad every moment brought the dawn nearer. " If I did but know ihe way," she thoughr. " Well I must wake up some one aad ask it."

Having made up her ruind, she no longer hesitated. She took a hnal survey of her patient and then left the 100 m. Sue looked the door on the outside, aud tooi the key with her. Quickly entering her own room, she caught up her gray cloak aad traveling hat, and put them on as she hurried down stair?. "if I only knew where the servants sleep !" she thought; " but i'm so afraid of rousing Mr Mertoun. I'll wake up some cottage people." With some considerable difficulty she opened the front door, and then dre»? it close behind her witoout absolutely shutting it. To her delight, ehe found it would stay so without moving ; this woild enable her to enicr the house again quietly. As quickly as swift feet would carry her, sh hurried out of the grounds. She say? co cottages ; so she worn along the widespread, hoping to reach sume habitation in titne. To her delight, she saw at last a hedger and ditcher trudging away to his work. She ran after him, and, almost breathless vmh her quick movement and exsitemelii, eaagh him by the arm while she asked h;;n he .question. '•The doctor!" he replied. " iiight on till the cross toads, then to the right ; not morn a mile."

Not more than a mile ! Nurse Harcoart started off on her way gleefully. That soon would be accomplished, she thought. Had she but known how strange is the Coruish mind on the subject of distances, she inlpht have stayed to ask farther in formation. But, instead, she hurried away, leaving the workingcnan to stare after her in complete and bewildered amaze ment. The cross roads were reached before long, and then she turned to the right and hurried quickly along the lonely road. At last Ada began to reflect od the fact that she must have walked a ereat dtai more than a mile since her meetiog -with the hedger and ditclier. in fact, she was beginning to feel a little puzzled and hope less, for there was no 6ign of houses. Still she hu tied on, hoping to meet seme one else who would direct her. Suddenly on her ear fell the sound of lauchter—high, clear, hearty laughter. Odd, at fpis time in the morning ; but, nevertheless, tha sound encouraged her. It came again and again, and guided her footsteps out of the high road into a wonderfully quiet lane. Ihe laughter still went on ahead, like a mock- Ing spirit, as a will-o'-the-wisp. But sud denly Ada found herself close to a, little cottage, every window of which was brilliantly illuminated from within. Xhe lower windows reached to the ground and stood open, exhibiting all the signs of a late revel. Empty decanters and bottles, in numerable glasses, some packs of cards on the floor.--these things caught Ada's quick eye and made her wonder; while leaning on the t;ate of the cottage was aa extremely handsome young man dressed in white

flannels. He looked at ■> da with tke steady gaze of astonishment. He waa immensely surprised at the sight of a young lady iv gray, with an extremely charming face, taking a walk at four o'clock on a niiity morning. Without a second's hesitation she approached him.

'• Can you tell me where I can find the doctoi's house?'' she said ; "a man I met told me to coaie this way.

Her earnest toue seemed to rou=e him and make him understand that she was out on business.

" !>.-. Frere is the nearest resident doc tor," he said, "and he lives about six miles oil', over there," pointiug the way Ada had come. "But if there is anything I can do, let me hep you. lam a doctor."

" You ?" said Ada, her gaze wandering from his sun-hurned face, which had on it the unmißt<kable up-all-night expression, •o his white flannel-clad figure, and then to lht; cottage beyond, which looked so absurd in thj growing daylight, with a cjnantity of dying candKs burning on the taoles. " it's all right," he said, seeming to under stand her perplexity. "I'm Alan Browne, of Wimpole-ttreet. I'm down here for the boating, and I've been having a bachelor party. Didn't yon hear that fellow laugh ing as he went off just now? I had to get four of the others to take him away."

" I know your name,' said Aua, earnestly. " Come with me ; I am a nurse from Mr Edgar's Home. I'm in charge o: lira Mer toun up at the Hal], and she's dying. If you d n't co ne at once, it may bs too late."

" What's ihe matter with her. said Dr. Browne "I've got a pocket imdiciiie case here ; shall I bring it!"

Nursa Harcourt leaned on the gate and said something in a scarcely audible voice ; then she took the bottle from her pocket, and held it up for his inspection.

"Impostible !" he exclaimed. " Come and see her," said rtd,i, solemnly

Dr. Browne turned, hurried into the cot tage, and in little more than a minute re appeared with a tmall case in his hand, Seeiug him ready to follow her, Ada im mediately started off as quickly ;is possible on her return road. Alan Browne hurried after her, leaving the little cottage, with all its windows open and its candles burning, to show its disorder to any passer-by who might chance to wander that way.

" You are a very good walker," said Dr, Browne, when he had got up with her.

" I believe I am," said Ada, and went quickly on without any further remark. These two, going swiftly through the pale, ghostlike morning mist, would have looked strange to anyone who coald have seen them. Both were very pale : Dr. Browne had got rather bored by his bacbe'or party, which had lasted too late for his taste ; and then he had been somewhat startled by Ada and what she had said, Nurse Harcourt was white with excitement and fatigue, although, sue did. not know it, nor know that she was weary. She was in tent upon returning to her charge ; she was full oi anxiety a.s to what might have happened in her absence.

" You know," said Dr. Browne presently, "this thing cat't be possible. She isa noted beauty ; the men that stay in Lostayvil go to church to look at her. Who could do such a thing ?"

" I can't say, sir," said Ada ; not think I am mistaken."

"bat! do

Dr. Browne was so bewildered by the un wonted manner of her introduction to aim that he forgot this vision of the morning was a nurse ; but Ada remembered her position, and addressed him with the mariner she used in sick rooms—quiet, but having in it an odd mixture of defiance and deference.

Very little more passed between them ; they walked so quickly that it waa not easy to talk. iJr Browne covertly observed his companion very earnestly.

A s they reached the gates of the Hall the stable clock struck five, and the gray mist was beginning to lift a little and glide away like the ghost of the dawn. It had been a strange walk, though neither thought ot it at the time : but it had the effect of making them feel as if they had known each other for years. The house was not awake yet; all was just as Ada had left it. She gently pushed open the front door and led the way into the dark interior. Up the dark stair case the two crept like thieve?. The blinds were all closed, and only a Mat glimmer of lifiht came in through the chinks here and there. As the gray figure and the white figure came noiselessly up the staircase, suddenly something started from the door of Mrs Meitoun's room, and with a horrible cry rushed across the landing. It was the cry of a most awful fear. It made Ada feel sick, and she longed to sit down on the stairs, for her legs gave way beneath her. But she would not. She remembered her patient, and getting out the key of the room, opened the door and let Dr. Browne in; then she closed it behind them, and locked it. Agatha Mertoun lay rifrid, like a lovely statue, on the bed. Her eyes were staring and fixed and on her lipsi was a foam. Nurse Harcourt looked at her with a sinking heart—was it too late? But she quickly threw aside her cloak and prepared to wait upon Dr. Browne,who soon became absorbed in his task. He used strong measures and watched their effect with anxiety. Nurse Harcourt saw, with a curious sort of satisfaction, that he was acting upon the same idea with regard to the case which she had offered him. He did not reject it as impossible now. For two hours this rixed attention continued ; neither left the bedside.

At last Dr. Browne went to the window, and beckoned Ada to him.

" Xhe servants will be up now," he said ; " atk them to get you some colfce, You look perfectly worn out." "1 Believe I am rather tired,'' she said ; " but 1 was right, wasr/t I ?" " Quite righr," he B&id ; "and you have savad her life by your pluck." Thus comforted, Ada went away in search of the servants. ' in the landing outside the door she found the man-servant whom she had seen the uight before. He was standing still, with a face lull of perplexity. "iMlrse," he said, "I Oelleve muster's gone oat ol his mind. He has been queer for come time past, but not like this." " What is it;" asked Ada.

'' He is sitting on his bed laughing : and every now and then he stops, and snrieks out suddenly that the house is full of gray and white ghosts. I don't like it—it s awfuL"

Then Ada remembered that cry of fear. "He must have- seen rue bring in Dr. Browne early this morning," the said; "heis in his boating flannels. Mrs Aler toun was much worse in the night, and I went for a doctor, lit. Browne had better see your master."

The man looked a good deal bewildered, but recovered himself sufficiently to agree, and Dr Browne beard his tale. While the servant was gone, he turned to Ada and began—" You know the house better than I do —perhaps you can tell me—" " Be"er than you do I" exclaimed Ada; " not much. 1 only got here last night at eleven."

"Last night at eleven!" replied Dr. Browne. " Why, what a sight of adven. ture you have had !No wonder you. look worn out. Well, can you tell me who to send to, because there is evidently some thing very wrong here ?" " Yes, I can tell you that." she answered. " I have the address of Mrs Mertoun's

sinter, who sent me down, and to whom 1 was to telegraph if necessary."

" That is all rinht," said Dr. Browne ; " have yon ordered any breakfast ?" " Not yet," she answered.

" I will send the man to see that it is got reaay tor you, and brought to your room. Now go straight to h«d." "Thank you, sr," said ftda, "bat how can I leave Mrs Mertoun!" "I am not going away just yet; you know I did not travel yesterday. I will have her attended to"; and you shall be called in four hours."

" Thank you, sir," said Aiia a^ain ; and went away down the now fcuolil staircase, on which her room opened. "1 hank you. sir," repeated I:r. Browne to himself, " What an extraordinary little woman it is ! And what eyes! By Jove, it haa been a ni^Ut of adventure." Ada got into bed, got some warm coffee, and then tell suddenly into a deep, dream lesi sleep. It was the repose of complete weariness. .four hours liver the maid knocked at her door. A&;is:.iirted up broad awake in an instant, »nd as fresh as a flower. In a veiy short time she was dressed and at the door of her patient's room. The m-iid Wai in charge; Dr. Browue had left her witt? instructions what to do, and Mrs Mertoun »eeHied to be a little better. Agatha was lying on a heap of pillows, locking very white, and wild and strange, Butshewa.. uwuttiit'y lalsM Buffering. "My dear little nurse," the wbi<pered when Ada heat over ht-r, '"I ktiuT*? you have saved tuy life. They v.lll a^. tsli mo where my huebaud is, but you will. Is he mad?"

" I don't know any tiling," paid Ada, "I have been asleep all this time," "He must be," she went on. "I am sure he was not in his right xoiod or he would never have attempted what he did— you believe me, don't you? lie loved nxe t when he was himself; but sometimes he had awful tits of jealousy, when I have tboujrnt before now' that he would try to kill me. It was in one of those fits that he brought me here ; and it has been growing on him. When we were married I was thought a beauty; aad he was always fancying I should get tired of him. Oh, nurse ! I am sure he was not in his right mind. You -will tell the doctor ao, won't you ?" " Yes, ye-", 1 will," said Ada, "and indeed I think so ; I should have said so in any case. And the servants told me this mora ine that he was not in his right mind," '■'Ah! then it will be all xiiiht," said Agatha, with a sigh of relief. Ada under stood then that this beautiful woman still loved the husband who had attempted her life, and that her great' dread was lest he shouldoe held accountable for his attempted crime. Late that night Zoe Conington arrived with her husband ; they brought with them a " mental" attendant, who immediately took entire charge of Kdward Mertoun. The dreadful thing which Ada discovered and prevented was kept a Eecret among the few who knew of it. .Every day after Zoe arrived Agatha in sisted that her dear little nurse, as she always called Ada, should go ont for a walk. The country around the Old Hail was exceedingly beautiful; to wander about in it was the keenest pleasure pos sible to the country-born girl. Zoe did all she could to make her happj ; hut sh- found that nothing pleased her so much a? the fresh air and "the wild fiiwers. But Zoe one day carried a great piece of gossip to her sister's sick room.

" My dear," she said, " I know now why Nurse Ada is so fond of the field. Dr. Browne meets her. They will be telling us they are engaged soon !" And so they did. Oae day they came in together with s conscious look of goilt. Dr, Browne says that when he asked a guts« tion, which girls reply to generally in either a sentimental or a scornful manner, Ada merely said: "Thank you, sir."—"The 'Whitehall Keview,"

RECTOR STODDARD'S PISTOL.

He Says It Went Off Just as lie Missed his Footing on a Stepladder.

(From the " New York San."')

THE absorbing topic of conversation in Jer sey City yesterday was the extraordinary death of Mrs Maria C. StodcUrd, who wuß killed on Monday morning by a shot from a pistol in the hand ol her husband, the Rev. B, L Stoddard, the rector of St. John's Episcopal Church, on Summit Avenue. Wild and contradictiug rumours were circulated on Bergen Heights as to the manner in which the shooting occurred. Mr Stotl dard, who 13 said to be prostrated with grief, declined to make any statement for publication. A lady, who is an inmate of his house, asserted that the weapon had fallen from an upper shelf of a closet that Mrs btiddard was arranging, and, striking against the lower shelf, he.d ueen ds charged. Wnen, however, County Physician Can verse called on -Mr i-toddaru ;iud i-sked for an explanation, the latter gave an en tirely dirlerent versiuii. He said lie was assisting his wife iv a. ranging the contfcnts of the closet; that he had taken the pistol, wbich he hid found on a shelf, .n his light hand, and that it went uU in tome mysterioosruanner, for which he could not account, while he was holding it. Mrs Stoddard was. on her knees at the time at work in the closet. Ihe pistol went ofl' jnst as he attempted to step fiom a step ladder. He mused his footing in such a way that he had to jump to the floor with a violent motion.

The ball entered the back ot the head t.t he base of the bruin, and from a discolorp t|ion of one eye, it is ioforted that it stopyed behind the bone beneath the eye. The haii was not burned, nor was the akin blackened.

The pistol is a single-barrelled breech loader. The lock is so constructed that the hammer at lialt-coek almost touches the cartridge, but it is drawn back a 1. ng distance to full cock catch. It is said to be a peculiarity of this pistol that if the hammer is drawn back almost to full cock and let go, it -will |still stop at half cock, and not discharge the pistol, unless there happens to be a pressure oa ihe Uiggor at tbe same time.

The pistol waß purchased last summer by Mr Stoddard, when nuuca. alarm was created in Bergen by the occurrence of several burglaries.

Dr. Converse said yesterday that the happy relations that existed between Mr Stoddard and his wife forbade the idea that the shooting was other than an accident. Nevertheless, in consequence of the numer ous reports that bad gone abroad about the shooting, Dr. Converse deemed it expe dient to order an inquest. A3 Mr Stoddard admitted that the pistol was discharged while in his hand, the authorities had no right to assume anything in the premises, bat should give the matter a thorough in vestigation.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, JULY 14, 1883.

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