A WOMAN'S FAITH: OR, THE Mystery of a Bunch, of Pansies.

By CHARLES T. MANNEUS, ACTUOR OF •"The Lord of Lylc," "Oetavia's Pride," "The Blcnkarne Emeralds," "The Flaw in the Diamond," " Dragging Him Down," " A Silver Brand," Sec. &c.

CHAPTER XV,

SI GKKES'S MISHAP.

The 'hours- of Duke's absence were pro longed until even imperturbable Light (houseKck showed the trial of patience to which he was subjected by his restless to and fro, and by the keen, swift glances he bestowed upon the shore, and •upon the point of rocky land behind which the light-house boat had disappeared. All an vain were the watchful eyes kept on that -quarter for the rest of the forenoon. Dinner 'hour came and went, and no glimpse of •Duke or his boat.

"The wind is stili pretty fresh, and the ■waves run high,''muttered Dick; " but it can't be that it is bad enough to keep the boat from venturing out again." "Are you afraid he won't get here at all to-night, sir ?" ventured Si Green. "You don't s'pose anything bad has happened to him, do you? Good gracious, lie ain't drowned, is lie!"

"I should as soon think of worrying about some of the sea-fowl yonder," re turned Light-house Dick, with one of his rare smiles. "If Duke is not really web footed, lie comes the next thing to it; the ■water is as much his element as a duck's. Something else detains him. Possibly a broken oar or a rowlock, though that could speedily be remedied. You needn't come up to take his turn, for I shall stay through both watches myself."

But Si's fevered state of mind would not allow him to remain tranquil. He hurried through his tasks and took his own station at the deep recessed window, which seemed more like a port-hole to him than an aper ture for light, and spent his afternoon there, with strained eyes fixed upon the white crested curves that went leaping shoreward. His aching vision retaliated by refusing service when at length the hour of need came. Everything was one blind, dizzy whirl to him, when Light-house Dick's shout from above proclaimed the boat's ap pearance.

It was only just before the twilight shades dropped over land and sea that the little boat was anchored at the base of the great shaft, and Duke's cheery face was lifted up ward to the watchful eyes in the Light house. He came nimbly up the ladder, after seeing the boat in proper condition for hoisting to its davits above, and addressed himself at once to the head-keeper. " I had a little mishap going ashore. The sea was rougher at the point than I cal culated, and I had another capsize, and broke the tiller. The delay was to repair it, sir."

" You must have been in danger yourself, Duke. Any other man would have lost his life. But I told Silas here there was as little need of fretting about the sea-fowl as about a water-dog like you," observed Light house Dick, in a tone of kindliness, and yet without a particle of genuine interest in it: and he added inafar more concerned accent: " Lucky it didn't happen coming back. You would have lost the mail then.- Where is it!"

Duke produced a small canvas bag from his pocket and handed it to his superior in command.

Silas saw that it was strapped closely and looked with a small brass padlock. "I'm hungry and chilly, too, Si," de clared Duke, cheerily. "I hope you've got supper ready for me,"then I'll come up and stand watch," ho added, looking again at Light-house Dick, who was staring down at the mail-bag gloomily. "Take your own time," said the latter. " Now that the bag is actually here I don't leel so impatient for my letters." And Duke went down into the kitchen and hurried through his supper in rather unusual speed, so Si fancied, and wor.dered if it was to gain time to make the visit to his own room, which he presently did, the tloor catching with its spring-lock click be hind him. Si noticed that he had changed his cloth ing when ho came out, and went up to relieve Dick, for he looked in to say : "I'll take along the bowl of coffee for him." And, without waiting for Si's answer, he took up the bowl, which was always filled for Dick's use when he came down from his evening watch, and carried it upstairs with him, leaving it on the shelf outside the lat tor's door. " Now it's my turn to speer and pry," said Silas to himself, while he lighted his kitchen lamp at the very moment that the starry glow run round the great wicks above and kindled the solemn beacon tire wh'ch shone so far out upon ocean and land, telling its cheery lesson of faith and trust to incoming and outward-bound alike. But he waited to make sure that Light house Dick would descend no farther than his own door before he stole up, with stealthy feet, and crept into his hiding place, dropping the canvas screen carefully about him. The occupant of the room within was drawing v chair to the table, and under cover of the noise he made Silas settled himself comfortably in his position, all the ■while with a queer, dreamy feeling of un reality that half dismayed him. It seemed to him that the loud thumping of his heart must be heard by any other companion, if such came, and he was asking himself what he should say, how he should defend himself, if Duke dragged him forth, regardless of his own exposure, when the closot door was softly opened and closed again, and a dark figure dropped into the seat in the other corner and bent his head to the aperture. Silas was keenly relieved, as well as sur prised, by the cool composure which came over him instantaneously with the know ledge of the proof of the truth of his suspi cions. He gave his attention to the unsus picious light-house keeper, with due regard to such movement of his companion as the dimness of the closet allowed, but was pre sently somuch interestedinthoroom without as almost to forget the task nearer at hand.

Light-house Dick could not have selected a better position for revealing to his unsus Eected watchers evjjuy working of his face, ad he been in league with them, for he sat down to the table directly in front of them, in the full light of his lamp. The little mail bag lay upon the table, and he took a key from off his cumbersome steel watch-chain, with which he unlocked t,h« padlock and re moved it from the Imsp.

Silas could not refrain from marvelling at the change it made in the man's looks the removal of the musk of imperturbable in difference with irhieh he had hitherto veiled it.

There was nothing stoical or cold in his appearance now, but, on the contrary, every feature seemed to glow beneath the white heat of some powerful inward passion A wild dread looked out of the eyes that de voured U-.o thickly-written sheet with such flaming glances, when he had opened the larger letter, and then there liashed into them n tierce light that sceined half made up of ■delirious joy and half of tragic despair.

He laid the letter <lown upon the table, murmuring : " Poor, proud, tender soul !Do I not read all you dare not write ? Do I not see the wearing struggle between love and pride ? Do I not know what heroic fortitude Jiides a heart breaking slowly beneath its heavy weight? Alas! alas! God forgive me ! It is a marvel that she ever can."

For a moment he clasped both hands across his face and partially hid from them its convulsive workings, its downpouring tears, and full abandonment to grief.

Then, as if stung by some bitter thought, he left his chair and walked swiftly to and fro, to and fro, with head bent low, and hands clasped together with a pressure that must have left its mark for the rest of the night. Of his low ejaculations Silas only caught partial meaning, but at the sound of one name, a quick-drawn breath on the other side of his canvas screen re vealed that watcher's comprehension. "Oh, Marmaduke Earl, yours was the happier fate ! Have I not. borne enough to expiate the foulest sin? Heaven help" the poor wretch that I am .'"

And coming back to the table, lie sat down there, with his arms thrown across it, and his head bowed down to them, his broad chest heaving with sobs of anguish. Was this the staid, matter-of-fact, unim pressible Light-house Dick ? Si asked him self, in amazement, and almost forgot his own personal interest in his keen sympathy with this secret sorrow.

Presently Light-house Dirk raised his head, and, with something of his natural stern control, proceeded to read through carefully the remainder of his papers. The last letter opened again aroused emotion. His hands shook so that the paper crackled audibly as he folded it up, and again that odd look of blending joy and terror swept into his eyes.

"Oh, my darling! my darling! to see you again is a bliss beyond my dreaming ! Dare 1 ?—ought I ">— Oh, Heaven, show me the right way out of this distracting dilemma. What !to go back there ': It will be like stepping out of my coffin into light and sunshine .' Have I the right.' Oh, have I the right '! After being dead to live ugain ? After the tomb's icy chill to feel the warmth of home 1 Oh, could I bear it? Would it be prudent—safe—wise ?"

These ejaculations fell brokenly from his quivering lips, and once again the tears ran over his cheeks.

Presently 113 drew toward him a little box which rested upon the table beneatJi a pile of books, and unlocking it, he lifted forth two small cases which evidently con tained portraits, but he held them so that only the leather backs were visible from the closet. Over the.se he murmured the fond est, wildest epithets of tender endearment, pressing his lips to the senseless material again and again, and in every way exhibit ing such excess of emotion that Silas was more and more confounded in his previous estimate of the man's character.

A sterner gravity gradually took pos session of his mind. He read over one' of the letters with slow and careful scrutiny, a frown knitting his forehead, and some deep problem evidently taxing his thoughts.

" I must think only of her welfare," he sighed, at last. " Cost what it may to my self, I must sas-e her from harm. * 1 must go. I see plainly that I must go !"

At this moment there was an impatient movement beyond him,and now for the first time Silas Green gave attention to a puzzl ing circumstance. Up above some one was tramping to and fro after the fashion that Duke walked on his watch. How long it had been going on he could not say. This was tliu first time his attention had been drawn to the fact, but there it was, slow and steady and indisputable, gome one walking on the sounding floor, and keeping watch. If Dick heard it he said it was Duke attending to his duty. Had Silas been in the kitchen below, he would have «aid the same. But now, here before his eyes was Light-house Dick, and just beside him in the closet the dark shape he called Duke,and behind the canvas he himself hid ing. Vet there was some one tramping above, and the light-house solemnly averred it held but three souls. A sort of creeping awe and yet a triumphant exultation came simultaneously to Si Green. Should he put out his hand and seize upon his unknown companion? What if it were not Duke after all?

In vain he peered with fierce intentness of vision through his canvas loop-holes. The dimness gave only the outlines, and those blended partially with the hangings about the figure. There was nothing for Si but to wait until the unknown stole forth ; then there was a chance that the opening door might admit light enough to betray the secret. Bailled by the closest inspec tion, Si (ir-jen's eyes went back to the clearly revealed objects in the lighted room with keener satisfaction.

Dick had resumed his pacing of the floor, but something had calmed his mood or dulled his perceptions. His face was even drowsy in expression, and yawns came with increasing length and frequency. He sank down again in the chair, the heavy, leaden look deepening.

Ten minutes longer and his head fell down upon the table, and deep, loud breath ing echoed through the room. It did not need the audible chuckle beside him to hint to Silas the meaning of Duke's readiness to carry Dick's bowl of coffee upstairs. That this was too profound and sudden in its eli'ect for natural slumber was very evi dent. So then lie had been drugged—by whom ? for what ?

These wore the questiousSilas'afertilemind was putting, while the other side the canvas partition his unknown companion was slowly raising and creeping toward the door. It mattered little that Silas lost the confir mation he hoped to receive when the closet door opened, for whoever it was went out boldly, and by some doxterous manipulation, unfastened the door the light-house keeper had locked upon |him self, and was coming slowly within his line of vision within that very room.

Duke himself it was, and no other, who ever it might bo that was pacing the round up above.

But Duke as much changed from the gay, cheery, untroubled fellow, who had been Ins bejon companion for the week back, as Light-houso Dick had been transformed before him. How black and fierce his glances were ! What grim determination set his lips ! AVhat cruel wrath gleamed in his eyes !

Me walked slowly to tho table, contem plating the sleeping keeper with a deadly, malignant smile that made Si's blood chill. But lie did not touch him, only stretched out his hand and gathered up the fallen letters, und standing there before their help less owner, read them through carefully, stopping twice to jot down some memoranda in his noto-book, and once to draw forth an evidently newly arrived letter from his own pocket as if comparing statements. When he had replaced the papers he turned slowly, and, with arms folded sternly ujioti hw breast, he *tood looking down upon

the sleeping partner of hi* dreary light house life.

Silas Green was not of an imaginative turn, nor remarkably quick of perception, but it seemed to him that he could read a terrible history in the swiftly succeeding changes that swept across that stormy face.

Once he made a hasty snatch at the gleaming dirk-knife which hung across the bracket near him, and there was a deadly glare in his eye that made Silas shiver, ex pecting to see it buried deep in the uncon scious breast before him. Then a wild satirical smile curled his lips into an evil sneer, and Silas caught the low words : " No, no ; not yet. Ido not smite my enemy asleep. We shall have a reckoning, hand to hand, weapon to weapon, one of these days. I can bide the time."

And then, all at once, it occurred to Silas that this was his time for investigat ing into his own affair, instead of waiting to learn more of this new secret. Who was that still pacing above upon Duke's round ':

He rose cautiously to his feet, and then finding it impossible to walk forward be cause of the screen of tarpaulin he had hung about him, he stooped down, trying to lift the awkward barrier noiselessly so that ho could creep under it. It gave an ominous crackle despite his caution, and he waited an instant, his heart thumping violently, to fee if Duke on the other side the partition had been made aware of his vicinity.

Xo sound of any movement there fame back to him. and witli a long-drawn breath, Si Green crept a.-ro-s the closet tloor smiling grimly as the well-oiled hinges of the door gave him noiseless exit, to think how Duke's own precaution turned against him. "Once on the stairs, I may proceed boldly. I will face the mysterious watcher above; I will know at last whether there is truth in my suspicions. Oh, little Franky, 1 believe I am very near my re ward," were Si's thoughts, and his heart swelled in exultation over them.

He closed the door, and turning on the narrow landing-place, had already placed his feet upon the lower stair, when there crime a hurried sound, a swift rush, whether from above or below he could not realise, so swift and tierce it came. His next sen sation was of a lightning Hash before his eyes, a thunder-bolt upon his unprotected head. He gave one sharp cry, ami fell. A long blank followed— how long, whether of moment.-, hours, or days, he could never realise. When tit: length hi.s whirling brain steadied enough for him to comprehend hi.s position, and realise that something disas trous hud happened, he found himself in utter darkness, and in very narrow limits. His first wild surmise suggested the horrible possibility that he was buried alive, and in his coffin. While the cold dew beaded his forehead, he lifted his hands and explored above him ; but the distance was an arm's length—too far, he was sure, be fore he reached a boarded ceiling on either side, to sustain the wretched fear.

A wet bandage was on hi.s head, and he still wore the clothing in which he had gono to the light-house. His exploring ringers ought in the steel watch-chain, and he drew it forth eagerly and held the watch to hi.s ear. No tick, no slightest throb. It had run down, then, and the lapse of time was still a mystery.

He felt weak and faint, and when he raised himself so that he sat upright upon whatever bed it was which held him, his. head swam so dizzily that he fell back, half afraid that lie wa- really dying. The profound stillnessaboufhim terrified him more than all the rest. He tried to think what could be possible, and was only 'more bewildered by tho effort. It seemed to him two hoars surely that he lay there in a sort of conscious swoon, too sick and dizzy to make the slightest effort beyond a fcc-ble panting for breath.

Rousing then by a strong exertion of will, he stretched out his right arm and began a second exploration for a knob, or latch, or lock to give him hint of the mothot? of admittance. In doing this he touched a pint dipper evidently filled with water. A moment, before, he had fancied himself dying of thirst, and this discovery gave him new courage. He lifted the dipper care fully with both hands, clutching upon it as upon a treasure of inestimable value, and alter a cautious taste to be sure that it was water, he took a slow, refreshing draught.

The effect was magical. His head ceased to swim, his brain cleared, in a little time he was able to stand upon his feet, and pace out the dimensions of his prison, for such he was convinced it was.

Memory had returned, and he now per ceived that his presence in the closet must have been discovered either by Duke or his unknown confederate above. Poor Si re called his exultant thoughts on leaving the closet with a rueful sigh. "I'm not deep enough for that Duke. Oh, lord, what black secret is it I've blundered on. And what is going to be come of me? He's desperately in earnest. He won't stop for any such poor trifle as Si Green's insignificant life, that's plain to me after looking at his terrible face in Light house Dick's room. I might as well be pre pared for the worst. Oh, if I could only get to Dick's ear !"

And now that the ringing in his ears had subsided lie was able to make out a steady, continuous beating noise, that revealed the fact of rolling waves surging somewhere out side.

"I am in the light-house still," declared he, and laid his ear against the boarded wall on either Hide to discover any further clue. Even while thuK occupied, there came a strange, clanking, rushing noise, followed by the audible gurgle of rushing water. Si sprang back in terror, for it seemed to him that the next instant a blinding wave would leap over him, so distinct was the impression of ri-Hng water splashing upon the other side. Whatever it was, thosounds died away, and all was utter quiet again. But it was nut easy for poor Si to regain the tiny atom of coolness and courage which the draught from the dipper had bestowed. A wild terror was upon him. The belief that he had been placed here lo bo drowned like a rat' in its hole took possession of his mind. He beat against the planked wall furiously, Ho lifted up his voice, though its wild accents made his own cars shrink, and called again and again ;

" Dick ! Dick ! Light-house Dick ! for Heaven's sake come tome ! Help ! help !" The wild scream echoed eerily, and deader silence followed.

Completely exhausted by the violence of his own exertions, and the agitation of mind so prostrating in his present weak state, Si fell down upon tho heap of straw nnd blankets whic-h made the bed on which he had found himself, and covered his face with his trembling hands, while the tears poured through them.

" Oh, Franky, Franky I" he groaned, loyal still to his unselfish hopes, " what will become of you now? What will you do without noor old Si?"

Out of this deep distress came a numb apathy, and then sleep. He woke again to deep darkness, and conscious of a new pan& the claims of hunger.

"I have slept a long time," decided he, "for I am much weaker, and fairly famish ing. It. is plain I ain't to drown, but to starve to death. It ain't a pleasant situa tion truly, but let me try to face it manfully. Oh for n knife, any implement with which to burrow and dig ! Oh for a single match !"

And now onco again he examined his pockets carefully and thoroughly. For the first time ho lamented his temperate, frugal habits.

"If I had only been a smoker now, I should have been sure to have a box of matches. And what might I not do if 1 could raise a flame!"

But the most rigid search failed to dis cover anything beyond his pocket-book and handkerchief, a comb, a few cards, a button or two, and a little pin-ball, one of Franky's own manufacture, and a Christmas present from him. It was wet with Sis bitter tears ere he laid it softly back. "I remember my Jackknife was on the kitchen table, where I was whittling out that button," he soliloquised drearily. " Well, I've nothing to help myself with. I can't even cut the notches to mark oil' day and night, like Kobinson Crusoe, l'oor old Si Green ; this is a pretty miserable end for you to come to, that's a fact."

Following out this train of thought, poor Si took out his watch, and opening it as cautiously as onomust needs do who worksin darkness, he opened tho crystal, and care fully followed with his linger till he found the position of tho hands.

"Stopped somewhere about half-past eight," he calculated, " now I wound it up just after supper, I remember that, and that was a little after six. So it run till the next evening's half-past eight, and during that time I laid here knowing nothing. 1 think it must be tluee days since I came to myself. 1 have had three long sleeps, and three horrible clays, like weeks, every one of them. Heaven only knows how much longer I can live without food. And there is scarcely more than a tcaspoonsul of water in the dipper. How I long for that! Heaven keep me from going mad before death relieves me."

And then all the horrible stories ho had rend came before him ; of shipwrecked sailors drinking each other's blood : ofrosiiHcituted bodies gnawing their own flesh in the dis tracting pangs of hunger, until hick and shuddering, such deadly nausea came upon him that he believed his last hour huil conn.-. and friendly death would spare him further torture. He was lying witli panting breath, und swimming eyes, feebly thinking a prayer for Franky, when a ray of light shot into tho cell from some unknown aperture. It broadened, brightened, and steps were distinctly audible. Si raised his head, gave one feeble, gurgling shout, and fell back un conscious.

CHAPTER XVI. ALMOST A THKKAT. The Dowager Mildmay sat by her grand daughter's bedside all that evening, after Helena Verrington's visit, her head laid down against the same pillow where rested the feverish young face, and her hand hold ing close clasp of the hot, restless ringers that closed over hers with such desperate hold. " Mydarling, my darling !" she murmured sorrowfully, •' don't look at me with such despairing eyes. You are young, Hortense, so young that surely you need not sutler forever from this grievous, wound, oven if we find no relief from the fulfilment of our fears. Time i* a merciful healer, and youtli forgets more easily than later yejiri will allow. Don't think that your sweet young life is forever wrecked, mydarling." You will yet find happiness, believe me." " Without Konrade'.' Oh. grandmamma, do you think that is possible !"' wailed Hor tense, all her pride forgotten, quenched by the misery of her day's experience. " Ah. then even you have failed to see how much I loved him." " To think the very circumstance which has been my crown of rejoicing should turn upon me now my bitterest grief, " murmur ed the dowager. " How inten.-ely relieved I was to see you two so devoted to each other, thus insuring the glad fulfilment of your father's will." "Oh grandmamma,if my father were alive now," sobbed Hortense. "No one can be quite like a father, md for us lone wninai what a tower of strength his presence would be."

A shudder ran through^ the dowager's slender frame, while she whispered under her breath as if to herself :

" God pity me that I have lived to see this day !" Hortense raisedherself and flung both arms about her neck, a little fright ened at the look on that usually serene face.

"Grandmamma," she cried, "you would not leave me to bear it alone, poor orphan child that \1 am, no mother, no father, no sister, no brother to comfort me. You would not leave me alone !"

" Heaven forgive me, darling, if I have been cruel, even in thought," returned the dowager, but her voice was faint and weak.

" And 1 have been so careless and thoughtless," went on Hortense. " I have thought myself worthy [to be tho proud est lady in the land. I have carried myself as haughtily as if I were certain of continued prosperity and happiness, only becauec of being a Mildmay. Grandmamma, I think some of that is ydhr fault. Have you not taught me that to be a Mildmay was really something, as Rienzi believed about a Roman ? I have been proud of your pride. Has this come to finish me, and show me that I too may meet humiliation, and shame, and sorrow? That even the Mildmays are not exempt from the woes of other mortals '!" The dowager's lips quivered, her face blanched to a still paler hue, while she implored, in a husky voice : " Hush! hush ! Hortense, you do not know what you say, nor how cruelly your words stab me. God forgive me. lam afraid you are right, that my pride has been hard and pitiless." Something in tho stifled, anguished voice roused the girl's self-reproach, and she said, eagerly: "No, no, grandma, dearest, you have never been anything but the best and kind est, the purest, the noblest. lam wicked myself to try to throw any blame upon you. Forgive me, because you know I do not mean it, becauso you can sec it is but the writhing of a poor, foolish; aching heart. Oh, grandmamma, I never realised all I lost in my father before. It would have been better for me to have kept a father's love and earo, and been born to the humblest estate in the country." " Hush, oh, child, you do not know, you cannot guess how you grieve me," once more implored the lady, in anguished voice. " In reviving your sorrow at my father's loss/"questioned Hortense. "Grandmamma, fell me about my father to-night. It is strange how little I know of him, how seldom you have spoken of him. I know, of course, that he was brave, and true, and honourable, without a stain on his name. Thank Heaven, thoro was never a Mildmay otherwise : even I, silly and weak as I am, have been proud to know that no untruth ever soiled my lips, nor a mean action dis graced my lineage. Dear, dear grand mother, how keenly you have suffered ! I am afraid I :icver fully realised it before. What a blow my father's sudden death must have been. Oh, I wonder -you lived through !"

" It was for your sake, my darling, for your sake. Heaven forgive me, if I have been blind in my judgments !" sighed the dowager.

" He was drowned by the upsetting of a boat when away on a yachting voyage.

Oh, what hitter tidings to come to you ! IT wont on J lortense, singularly persistent in keeping to the subject. "I remember Nur.suWilliamssayingoncothatyou seemed turned into a statue of stone, that you shell never a tear, but went about mutter ing- to yourself that a son, with unblighted reputation and noble character even in his grave, was a richer blessing than many heartbroken mothers knew, though they held their misguided sons alive within thoir shielding' arms. Oh, how often I have thrilled with pride thinking of you as of one of the noblo Spartan mothers. Dear grandmamma, I ought not to bo heart broken, remembering all you have borne patiently and uncomplainingly." The dowager could not answer a word ; she could only stroke the clinging hands,' and turn her head now and then to kiss the wistful, tremulous lipa. I'resently the housemaid's tap was heard outside the chamber door. " ftly lady, here is l'ayson, with word that Sir Frederic Mildmay is below in the blue drawing-room. What word shall I give him, please? " Sir Frederic ! Ted come to triumph in my humiliation !" exclaimed Jlortonse in dignantly. "Send him away ; I will not see him at all."

" But 1 must, dear. Remember that ho represents the head of the house now. He has probably heard the story of Harris. Ho has a right to inquire of us if it is true " said the dowager gently, while she dis engaged her hands.

'• Then I will see him, too," declared the ■:iii, rising ~,, hastily. " J will not have him hear how it all happened except from me. Send word that we will come down presently, as soon as 1 can dress."

" Mut Horteuso you are feverish still. I am afraid of more excitement.

" 1 can bear it better than to remain hero imagining everything humiliating and vexations," she returned impatiently. And with a sigh the dowager yielded, nailing the maid from tho anteroom to dress her young mistress, and watching the latter s nervous movements with wistful anxious eyes.

The moment the door opened Sir Frederic came forward eagerly from the mantel where he had been leaning listlessly while waiting the appearance of the ladies.

He led the dowager with assiduous nnd tender respect to the envy-chair before tlie -rate, while he wild, pleadingly : " I hope you are not angry with me for the unseasonableness of this call. After I heard from Hani.-' I could not think of sleeping without coming forward promptly to save Lady Hortense from any humiliation concerning this matter. Dear Lady Mild may, vow know that I am the representa tive of the house now, and that at the same tune I am distantly enough removed to make the flight relationship entirely un objectionable. You know, -alco, how my heart is bound up in her. Pray, pray, save Horten.se from all the stir and buzz the news of this broken engagement will make around us, when it is heard that Konrade Earlewaathe one to fling it up. Simnl taneously with the change in his prospects, let-it be told that our prido and darling has consented to make Sir Frederic .Mild may happy. Pardon me,'' he added, seeing that the dowager made a deprecating move ment, ■■ hear me uut, and do not answer hastily. Indeed, indeed, I know too well what a trial Hortense must faco otherwise. High and peerless a.= she is, the more ready will be the jealous tongues to clack and calumniate. But the new engagement would change everything, and turn all tho discomfiture upon the one who deserved it Lady Hortenne "

And here lie paused, and neither of his listeners nould be insensible to the thrill of ti.-inloriie.-s tliat stirred his voice, as he tinned toward the beautiful girl, who stood with flushed cheeks and parted lip.s staring at him in proud disdain.

"Jjunr Ijuly IlnrtcTiPC, believe me it is not all selfishness that makes ne urge my claim now. Precious and inestimably dear as is that fair hand to me, still I ask for it now thinking of the proud Mildmny name more than of you or myself personally." She had faced him haujylitily, but now a shiver ran through the slender, dainty figure, the deep red mounted from her cheeks to her forehead, she clasped her hands trerau l"usly and cried in horror.

"Can it be true? Crandmamma, grar.d mamma, judge for me. Is there any danger that your honoured name will be sullied by anything that I have done?''

Admirable as was the dowager* self-com mand, there was .something in this appeal which swept the reins for a moment out of her control.

She turned ghastly pale, and answered mildly :

"Oh, my innocent lamb, it is too cruel! Fate is very hard upon us."

And then paused abruptly, and covered bf-r face from their view.

The girl flew to her side and flung both arms around her neck.

" Jt shall not be hard if anything I can do will prevent it. Grandma dearest, what matter, since all my joy is lost '! I will marry Ted, if he withes it. We will keep up the old Mildmay spirit and pride, if we can preserve nothing else."

"Woe to me !" wailed the dowager, rock ing herself to and fro

Sir Frederic sprang to the side of Hor tense, his face glowing with delight and triumph.

" My darlinjj, do not fear for your happi nosß. It shall be my life's sole aim. Surely I shall ho able to accomplish it. Surely my ceaseless efforts shall win your thoughts from that villain "

"Stop, sir!" flashed llortense, turning upon him with gleaming eyes and haughty sneer. "You may be assured I will never listen to any abuse of Konrado Earle from i/nit ; We are not talking about happiness or love. We are arranging a formal matter of business. Grandmamma, do you agree with me that under the circumstances it is best for me to agree to Sir Frederic's pro posal ': Shall I allow him to tell the gossip ing world that lie is (o marry mo ?"

" Xo," answered the dowager, in n slow, deliberate voice, quite in contrast with her previous agitated tones. "I do not con sent to that. You must give no such hasty promise."

" Lady Mildmay," exclaimed Sir Fred eric, in a quirk, impatient tone, "your conduct quite passes comprehension. You force mo to remind you that I deserve a more flattering reception than this. I have patiently put aside the claims I might rightly enforce, I have ignored wrongs,

"Peace, stupid Ted!" cried out Hor tenso, angrily. " How dare you speak in that way to Lady Mildmay ?"

But the dowager waved her hand, and rising slowly, faced him with all her ac customed dignity md majesty.

"Goon, Sir Frederic. lam ready to hear everything you wish to say. Let us have a clear understanding now. It is not the lirst time you liave flung out your vague accusations in my presence. I should like them plainly stated now.

Sir Frederic looked a little startled at his own temerity, but was too angry and earnest to forbear.

"If you ask for thorn, my dear madam, you must not blnini: me for stating facts which mnv Found disrespectful and in jurious. You nrn rrrtainly awaro—no ono can be mom punctilious in that respect than yourself—that I huve Bomo claims as the

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MAfiCH 8; 1684.

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