"HAND AND RING,"

By Anna Katiieuinb Gbeen, Author of " The Leavcnworth Muricr," " The Sword ot Damodos," "The Defence of the Prude," etc. •f

CHAPTER IV. IMOGENE. You aro a riddle- solve you. who can^ Mr Okcutt was a man who for many years had turned a deaf car and a cold eyo to tho various attractions and beguilcments of woman. Either from natural coldness of disposition, or for some other latent cause, traceable, perhaps, to some fact in his past history, and not to bo inquired into by gossiping neighbours and so-called friends, he had resisted, even to the point of dis dain, both tho blandishments of acknow ledged belles and tho more'timid but no less pleasing charms of tho shy country misses that ho met upon his travols. But one day all this was changed. lino- L'ene Dare entered his home, awakenings Jitrht in tho dim old place that melted his heart and made a man out of what was usually considered a well-ordered machine. Sho had been a foundling. Yes, this beautiful, disdainful, almost commanding woman, had iii tho beginning been that most unfortunate of beings—a child with out a namo. But though this fact may have inlliienoed tho course of hor early days, it gradually disappeared from notice as sho grew up and developed, till in Sibloy at least it became wellnigh a fact forgotten. Her beauty, as well as tho imposing traits of her character, was tho cause. There are some persons so gifted with natural forco that, once brought in contact with them, you for get their antecedents, and, indeed, every thing but themselves. Either their beauty overawes you or they, by conversation or bearing, so completely satisfy you of their right to your respect, that indifference takes the place of curiosity, and you _ yield your regard as you have already yielded your admiration, without question and with out stint. , The early years of her life wore passed in the house of a poor widow, to whom tho appearance of this child on hor door-step one fine day had been nothing mora nor less than a veritable godsend. First, because she washerself alone in the world, andnoeded the mingled companionship and care which a little one invariably gives ; and, secondly, because Imogene, from tho very first, had been a noticeable child, who early attracted the attention of the neighbours, and led to many a substantial ovidenco of favour from them, as well as from tho strangers who passed their gate or frequented their church. Insensibly to herself, and without help of circumstances or rearing, tho girl was a magnet toward which all good things insensibly tended; and the widow saw this, and while reaping the reward, stinted neither her affection nor her gratitude When Imogene was oloven, this protector of her infancy died. But another homo in stantly offered. A wealthy qouple of much kindness, if little culture, adopted her as their, child, and gave her ev-ery benefit in life save education. This never having possessed themselves, they openly under valued. But she was not to bo kept down by the forco of any circumstances, whether favourable or otherwise. All tho grace 3of manner and refinements of thought which properly belong to the station sho had now attained, but which, in the long struggle aftor wealth, had escaped the honest couple that befriended her, became by degrees her own, tempering without destroying her in dividuality, any more than tho new life of restraint that now governed her physical powers was able to weaken or subdue that rare and splendid physique which had been her fairest birthright. In the lap of luxury, therefore, and in full possession of means to como and go and conform herself to the genteel world and its fashions, she passed the noxt four years; but scarcely had she attained tho age of fifteen svlion bankruptcy, followed by death, again fobbed her of her home and set hor once more adrift upon the world. This time sho looked to no one for as sistance. .Refusing all offers, many of theratliosciof lumourablemarriage, she sought for work, and after a short delay found it in tho 1 household of Mr Orcutt. Tho aged Bister who governed his home and attended to all its domestic details hired her as a sort of assistant, rightly judging that the able young body and the alert hand would luing into tho household economy just that life 'and interest which her own failing strength had now for some time refused to supply. , . , That the girl was a beauty and some thing more, who could not from the nature of things bo kept in thftt subordinate posi tion, elTe either failed to see, or, seeing, was pleased to disregard. She never sought to impose restraint upon the girl any more thau she did upon her brother, when in the courso of events who saw that his eye was at }mt attracted and his imagination iired by the noble specimen of girlhood that made its daily appearance at his own board. That she had introduced a dangerous ele ment into that quiet home, that ere long would devastate its sacred precincts, and ondaiu'er, if not destroy, ite safety and honour, she had no reason to suspect. What vas there in youth, beauty, and womanly power that one should shrink from their embodiment and tremble as if an evil instead of a good had entored that hitherto undisturbed household ? Nothing, if they had been all. But alas for her, and alas for him—they were not all:! Mixed with the youth, beauty, and power was a something else not to be so readily under stood—a something, too, which, without offering explanation to the fascinated mind that studied her, made the beauty unique, the youth a charm, and the power a eon troljing force. She was not to be sounded. Going and coming, smiling and frowning, in movement ov at rest, she was always a mystery; the depths of her being remain ing still in hiding, however calmly she spoke or however graciously she turned upon you the light of her deep grey eyes. Mr Orcutt loved her. From the first vision he had of her face and form dominat ing according to their nature at hjs beard ami fireside, he had given up his will into her unconscious keeping. Sho w»s so pre cisely what all other women ho had known were not. At first so distant, so self-con, taiued, so unapproachable in her pride; then as her passion grew for books, so teachiblo, so industrious, so willmg tp listen to his explanations and arguments; and lastly . , But that did not come at once. A long strugflo took place between those hours whenlio used to encourage her to come into his study and sit at his side, and read from his books, and the more dangerous fame still when he followed her into the draw ing-room and sat at hor side, and sought to voad, not from books but from her eyes, tho story of his own future fato. For powerful as was his passion, and deeply as his heart had been touched, lie did not yield to tho thought of marriage which such a passion involves without a eonilict He would inako her his child, tho heiress of his wealth, and the support of his old a"c ; this was his first resolve. But it did notlast ; tho first sight he hadof her on her return from a visit to Buffalo, which ho had insisted upon her making during the time of his greatest mental conflict, had assured him "that this could never be ; that he must bo husband and she wife, or else their rela tions must entirely cease. Perhaps the. look with which she met him had something to do with this. It was such a blushing, humble-yes, for hor, really humble and beautiful—look. He could not withstand it Though no one could have detected it in his manner, he really succumbed in that hour Doubt and hesitation flew to the winds, and to make her his _ own became the solo aim and object of his life. He did not, however, betray his purpose at onco Neighbours and friends might and did suspect tho state of his feelings, but to her ho was silent. That vague (something which marked hor off from tho rest of he? «ex seemed to have deepened in her fcera trarirv sojourn from his sido, and whatever it meant of good or of ill, it taught him at least to bo wary. At last, was it with pro meditation or was it in some moment of •uiveontiollablo impulse, he spoko ; not with definite pleading, or even with any very clear intimation that he do>i.od some day ; tomalM her hi< wife, but in a way that sufficed to tear tho veil from their previous intercourse end let her catch a ghmp.se, if no more, of his heart, and ltd devouring absolutely startled at the result. She avowed that she had never thought of his possessing such a regard for her ; and for two days shut herself up in her room and refused to see either him or his sister. Then she cn-.nedov.n, blooming like a rose, but morn distant, more quiet, and more inscrutable tlitm ever. Pride, jf pride aho felt was subdued under .a general aenoct of womanly dignity that far aifeie bold all further avowals.in check,.and .made .11 intercourse between them at once potent i Hi. in its r.tUaction and painful in its restraint. M "She is *.;aii.ig »or » dusUßt cP.'j. pf ■ marriage," ho decided.

And thus matters stood, lietwitlwtending the general opinion of their frionds, when tho terrible ovont recorded in tlio foregoing chapters of this story brought her in a new light before his eyes, and raised a question, shocking as it was unexpected, ta to whether this young girl, immured us ho had believed her to be in his own home, lud by some unknown .and inexplicable means run upon tho secret involving, if not explaining, tho mystery of this dreadful and daring crime ■' t Such an idea was certainly a preposterous one to entertain. He neither could nor would believe sho knew more of this matter than any other disinterested person in town, and yot there had certainly been j?omotliing in her bearing upon tho scene of tragedy that suggested a personal interest in tho affair ; nor could lie deny that lie himself had been struck by tho incongruity of her behaviour long before it- attracted the at tention of others.

But then lie had opportunities for judging of her conduct \\ hicli others did not havo. He not only had every reason to believe that tho ring to which she had so publicly laid claim was not her own, but lie had observed how, at tho moment the dying woman had mado thattoll-talc exclamation of "Ming and Jluiul!" Miss Daro had looked down at the jewel she had thus ap propriated, with a quick horror and alarm that seemed to denote she had BOmo_ know ledge of its owner, or somo suspicion, at least, as to whoso hand had worn it before sho placed it upon her own. It was not, thorcfore, a matter of wonder that he was visibly affected at finding her conduct had attracted the attention of others, and one of those a detective, or that tho walk homo after his interview with Mr Byrd should have been fraught with a dread to which he scarcely dare;! to give a namo. Tho sight of Miss Daro coming down the path as he reached his own gate did not tend to greatly allay his apprehensions, particularly as he observed she was dressed in travelling costume, and carried a small satchel on her arm. " Imogone," he cried, as sho readied him, " what is the meaning of this 1 Whero are you going ?" Hor face, which wore an wholly unnatural and strained expression, turned slowly to wards his. "I am going to Buffalo," sho said. " To Buffalo ?" " Yos." This was alarming, surely. Sho was going to leave tho town—leavo it suddenly, without excuse or explanation ! Looking at her with eyes which, for all their intenso inquiry, conveyed but little of tho serious emotions that wero agitating his mind, he asked, hurriedly : " What takes you to Buffalo—to-day—so suddenly!" Her answer was set and mechanical.

" I havo had news. One of my—my friends is not well. I must go. Do not de tain me."

And she moved quickly toward the goto. But his tremulous hand was upon it, and he made no offer to open a passage for her. " Pardon me," said he, " but I cannot let you go till I have had some conversation with you. Come with me to the house, Imogene. I will not detoin you long." But with a sad and abstracted gesture she slowly shook her head. "It is too late," she murmured. "I shall miss the train if I stop now." "Then you must miss it," ho cried, bitterly, forgetting everything else in tho torture of his uncertainty. "What I havo to say cannot wait. Come !" This tone of command from one who had hitherto adapted himself to her every whim seemed to strike her. Paling quickly, she for tho first time looked at him with some thing like a comprehension of his feelings, and quietly replied : " Forgive mo. I had forgotten for the momentTthe extent of your claims upon me. I will wait till to-morrow before going." And she led the way back to the house. When they wore alono together in the library, he turned toward her with a look whose severity was the fruit of his condi tion of mind rather than of any natural harshness or impcriousness. "Now, Imogene," said he, " tell mo why you desire to leave my house." Her face, which had assumed a mask of cold impassivene3s, confronted him like that of a statue, but her voice, when sho spoke, was sufficiently gentle. "Mr Orcutt," was her answer, "I have told you. I have a call elsewhore which must bo attended to. I do not leave your house; I merely go to Buffalo for a few days." But ho could not believe this short state ment of her intentions. In the light of these new fears of his, this talk uf Buffalo, and a call there, looked to him liko tho merest subterfuge. Yet her gentle tone was not without its effect, and his voico visibly softened as he said : " You are intending, then, to return ':" ' Her reply was prefaced by a glaneo of amazement.

"Of course," she responded at last. "Is not this my homo ?" Something in the way she said this carried a ray of hope to his heart. Taking her hand in bis., bo looked at hor long and eearchingly. "Imogene!" he exclaimed, "there is something serious weighinf* upon your heart. What is it? Will you not make me the confidant of your troubles! Toll me what has mado such a change in you since since noon, and its dreadful evont." But her expression did not soften, and her manner became even more reserved than before. "I have not anything to tell," said she. " Not anything ?" he repeated. " Not anything." Propping her hand, ho communed a moment with himself. That a secret of possible consequence lay between them he could not doubt. That it had reference to and involved the crimo of the morning, he was equally sure. But how was he to make her acknowledge it ? How was he toreach her wind and determine its secrets without alarming her .dignity or wounding her heart? To press her with questions seemed im possible. Even if ha could havo found words with which to formulate his fears, her firm, set face, and steady, unrelenting eye, assured him only too plainly that the attempt would be met by failure, if it did not bring upon him her scorn and contompt. No; some other method must be found ; some way that would completely and at once ease his mind of a torrible weight, and yet involve no risk to the love that had now become the greatest necessity of his ex istence. But what way? With all his acumen and knowledge of the world, he could think of but one. He would ask her hand in marriage—aye, at this very mo ment—and from the tenor of her reply judge of tho nature of her thoughts. For, looking in he? face, he felt forced to ac knowledge that whatever doubts h,o had ever cherished in reference tp the character , of this romarkablo girl, upon one point he was perfectly clear, and this was.that gho ; was at basis honourablo in her instincts, . and v/ould never do herself or another a real injustice. If a distinct wrong or even a secret of an unhappy or debasing nature lay between them, DO KUGW that nothing, not even the bitterest necessity or tho most headlong passion, would ever drive her into committing the dishonour of marrying him. No ; if with his declaration in her ears, and with his eyes fixed upon here, she should give any token of her willingness to accept his addresses, he felt ho might know beyond doubt or cavil that whatever womanish oxcitability may havo moved hor in her demonstrations that day, they certainly arose from no private knowlodgo or suspicion detrimental to his future peace or to hers. Bracing himself, therefore, to meet any result that might follow his attempt, he drew her gently toward him arid deter minedly addressed her. " Imogene, I told you at the gate that I had something to say to you. So I have ; and though it may not be wholly unex pected to you, yet I doubt if it would have left my lips to-night if the ey.ents of the day bad not urged mo to offeryou my sympathy and protection." He paiißcd, almost sickened ; at that last phrase sho had grown so terribly white and breathloss. But something in hor manner, notwithstanding, seemed tp encourage him to proceed, and smothering his doubts, tranipljng, as it were, upon his rising ap prehensions, he called down his tone and went quietly on; "Imngone, Ilovoyou." ' Sho did not shrink.

'' Imogeno, I want you for my wife, Will you listen to my prayer, and make my homo for ever happy with your presence?"

.Ah., now she showed feeling ; now sho started and drew back, putting out her hands as if the idea he had advanced was insupportable to her. But it was only for a moment. Before ho could say to himself that it was all over, that his worst fearehad been true, and that nothing but tho sense of some impassable gulf between them could have mado her recoil from him like this, sho had dropped her hands and turned toward him with a look whoso deep inquiry and evident struggle after an understanding of his claims spoke of a mind clouded by trouble, ,bu,t not alienated from himself by . fear.

Sho did not J3poak, however—not for some.fe.w.in.inutg?, an,d when she did, her words came in short and hurried gasps.

"You are kind," was what she said. " To be your—wifo " —sho had difficulty in uttering tho word, but it came at last— " would bo an honour and a protection. I appreciate both. But lamin no mood to night to listen to words of love from any man. Perhaps six months hence " But ho already had her iii his arms. The joy and relief lie felt wero so great ho could not control himself. "Imogene," ho mur mured, "my Imogene!" And scarcely heeded her when, in a burst of subdued agony, she asked to bo roleaaed, saying that she was ill and tired, mid must bo allowed to withdraw to her room.

But a second appeal woke him from his dream. If his worst fears were without toundation ; if her mind was pure of aught that unfittod her to bo his wifo, there was yot much that was mysterious in her con duct, and, consequently, much which he longed to have explained.

"Imogene, "lie said, "I must ask you to remain a moment longer. Hard as it is for me to distress you, there is a question which 1 feel it necessary to put to you boforo you go. It is in reference to tho fearful crime which took place to-day. Why did you take such an interost in it, and why has it had such an effect upon you that you look like a changed ■woman to-night '!" Disengaging herself from iiis arms, she looked fit him with the sot composure of one driven to bay, and asked :

"Is there anything strange in my boing interested in a murder perpetrated on a poison whoso namo I have frequently heard mentioned in this house V"

" No," he murmured, " no ; but what led you to her homo '! It was not a spot for a young lady to be in, and any other woman would have shrunk from so immediate a contact with crime."

Imogeno's hand was on the door, but sho turned back.

" 1 am not like other women," sho de clared. " When I hear of anything strange or mysterious, I want to understand it. I did not stop to ask what peoplo would think of my conduct."

"But your grief and torror, Imogene? They are real, and not to bo disguised. Look in tho glass over thoro, and you will yourself sco what an effect all this has had upon you. If Mrs Clemmons is a strangor to you, if you know no more of her than you have always led mo to aupposo, why should you havo been so unnaturally im pressed by to-day'a tragedy ?"

It was a searching question, and her eye fell slightly, but hor steady demeanour did not fail her.

"Still," said she, " becauso I am not liko other women. I cannot forget such horrors in a moment." And sho advanced again to tho door, upon which sho laid hor hand.

Unconsciously his eyo followed tho move ment, and rested somewhat inquiringly up on that hand. It was gloved, but to all ap pearance was without tho ring which ho had seen her put on at the widow's house.

She seemed to comprohond his look. Meeting his oye with unshaken firmness, »ho resumed in a low and constrained voico:

" You aro wondering about tho ring that formed a portion of tho scene wo aro dis cussing. Mr Orcutt, I told tho gentleman who handed it to me to-day that it was mine. That should bo enough for the man who professes sufficient confidence in me to wish to make me his wife. But since your looks confess a curiosity in regard to thin diamond, I will say that I was as much as tonished as anybody to sco it picked up from tho lloor at my feet. The last time I had seen it was when I dropped it, some what recklessly, into a pocket. How or when it fell out, 1 canuot say. As for the ring itself," sho haughtily addjd, "young ladies frequently possess articles of whose existence their friends are unconscious."

Hero was an attempt at an explanation which, though meagre and far from satisfac tory, had at least a basis in possibility. But Mr Oroutt, as I havo before said, was certain that the ring was lying on the lloor of the room where it was picket! up before Imogene had made her appearance there, and was therefore struck with dismay at this conclusive evidenco of her falsehood.

Yet, as ho said to liimsolf, slia might have sonic association with tho ring, might even have an owner's claim upon it, incred ible as this appeared, without being in tho possession of such knowlcdgo aw definitely connected it with this criino. And lod by this hope, he laid his hand on hers as it was softly turning tho knob of tho door, and said, with emotion:

"Imogcne, one moment. This ia a sub ject which I am as anxious to drop aa you are. In your condition it is almost cruelty to urge it upon you, but of ono thing I must be assured before you leavo my pre sence, and that ij, that whatever secrets you may hide in your soul, or whatever motive may havegovcnied yourtreatmtntof me and my suit to-night, they do not sprint! from any real cr supposed interest iv this crime, which ought from its nature to separ ate you and mo. 1 ask," he quickly addod, .-is ho saw her give a start of injured pride or irrepressible dismay, " not becaimo I have any doubts on tho subject mysolf, but becauso some of tho persons who havo un fortunately been witness to your strange and oxcited conduct today havo presumed to hint that nothing short of a socrot know ledge of tho crime or criminal could ex plain your action upon tho scene of tragedy."

And with a look which, if sho had ob served it, might have roused her to a sense of tho critical position in which she stood, ho paused and held his broath for her reply. It did not come, "Imogeno?" "I hear." Cold and hard the words sounded—his hand went like lightning to his honrt. "Are you going to answer?" ho asked, at last. " Yes." " What is that answer to be, Yes or No?" She turned upon him her large groy eyes. Thero was misery in their dopths, but there was a haughtiness also which only truth could impart. "My answer is No !" said she. And, without another word, she glided from the room. Next morning, Mr Byrd found three notea awaiting his perusal. The first was a notification from the coroner to the effoct that the Widow Clemmens had quietly breathed her last at midnight. The secund, a hurried line from Mr Ferns, advising him to make use pf the flay/in poncjudlnga certain matter of theirs in thp next town; and tho third, a letter from Mr Orcntfc, couched in tho following terms t

Mb Byiu> : Dear Sir,—l have seen the person named between us, and I here state, upon my honour, that she is in possession of no facts which it concerns the authorities to know. Tremont B. Orcutt.

CHAPTER V. HORACE BYRD, But now I am cabin'd, cribb'tl, confln'd, bound in " ' ' To saucy doubts and (oars. —M^CIIBfJI. HoBACi: Bvkd van by birth aijd education a gontleman. Ho was the son of a, man of small incuns but great expectations, and liad boon roared to look forward to tlio day when ho should be the possessor of a largo income. But his father dying, both means and expectations vanished into thin air, and at the age of twenty, young Horace found himself thrown upon the world withput j^> coin£, without business, and, what wag still worse, without those habits of industry that serve a man in such an emergency bet ter than friends and often better fjian money itself, He had also an invalid mother to look after, and two young sisters whom ho loved with warm and devoted affection; and though by the kindness and forethought of certain relatives he was for a time spared all anxiety on their account, he soon found that some exertion on his part would bo necessary to their continued subsistence, and accordingly set about the task pf find ing suitable employment, with much spirit and no little hope. But a lonp* series of disappointments taught Jjjm that young men cannot leap at a bound into a fyje salary or oven a promis ing situation; an/rt bafljcd in every wish, worn out wit!) cpntinuod fajlupes, J|p sank from one state of fjopp to anotjier, tjll ho was ready to embrace any prospept that would insure ease and comfort to tfo help loss beings ho so much loved. It was while ho was in this condition that Mr Gryce—a somewhat famous police de tective of New York—came upon him, and observing, as he thought, .some signs of natural aptitude l.oj' jklii Wt)rh, as he called it, in tliis elegant but siec'^edjy hard pushed young gentleman, seized upon I'ini with an avidity that can only bo explained by this detective's long-cherished desire to : ally to himself a man of real refinement and I breeding; having, as lie privately admitted ; more than once to certain choson friends, a strong need of such a person to assist him } n certain cases whore great hounes were to ( bo entered and fine Kentlomon if not fair j ladies subjected to interviews of a delicate \ and searching nature. j To join the polico force and be a detec- j tive was the last contingency that had oc- j curred to Horace Byrd. But men in decidedly straitened circumstances cannot i pick and choose too nicely ; and after a r week of uncertainty and fresh disappoint < ment, ho went manfully to his mother and

tokl her of tho offer that had been made him. Meeting with less discouragement than he had expected from the broken dovn and unhappy woman, he gave him self up to the guiding hand of Sir Uryce, and before ho realised it, was enrolled among the secrot members of the New York force. He was not recognised publicly as a detective. Ilia name was not even known to any but tho highest officials. Ho was employed for special purposes, and it was not considered desirable that lie should be seen at police head-quarters. But being a man of much ability and of a solid, reliable nature, he made his way notwithstanding, and by the time ho had been in the service a year, was looked upon as a good fellow and a truly valuable acquisition to the bureau. Indeed, he possessed more than the usual qualifications for his calling, strange as the fact appeared not only to him self but to tho few friends acquainted with his secret. In the first place ho possessed much acuteness without betraying it. Of an easy bearing and a polished address, he was a man to please all and alarm none, yet he always know what he was about and what you wcro about too, unless indeed you possessed a power of dissimulation much beyond ordinary, when tho chances were that his gentlemanly instincts would get in his way, making it impossible for him to believo in a guilt that was too hardy to betray itself, and too insensible to shame to blush before tho touch of the inquisitor.

In tho second place, ho liked the business. Yes, notwithstanding tho theories of that social code to which heoncu paid deference, notwithstanding the frankness and candour of his own disposition, he found in this pur suit a nice adjustment of cause to effect nnd effect to cause that at onco pleased and satisfied his naturally mathematical mind. He did not acknowledge the fact, not even to himself. On the contrary, he was always threatening that in another month he should look up Koine new means of liveli hood, but the coming month would invari ably bring a fresh case boforo his notice, and then it would be : "Well, after this matter is probod to tho bottom," or, " When that criminal is mado to confess his guilt," till evon his llttlo sisters caught the infec tion, and would whisper over their dolls :

" Brothor Horace is going to be a great man when all the had and naughty pooplo in tho world are put in prison." As a rulo, Mrliyrd was not sent out of town. But, on tho occasion of Mr Ferris dosiring a man of singular discretion to as sist him in certain inquiries connected with tho case then on trial in Sibley, thero hap pened to bo ;i delicieney of capable inun in tho bureau, and tho superintendent was obliged to respond to thn call by Bonding Mr Byrd. Ho did not do it, howover, with out making the proviso that all public re cognition of this olllccr in his reul capacity wa» to bo avoided. And no far tho wishes ot his fiuporiorH had bcon respected. No one outside of tho few persons mentioned in the If rat chapter of this story suspoctcd that tho easy, nflhblo, and somewhat di« tinguishcd-looking young gentleman who honoured the village hotel with his patron ago was a secret emissary of the Now York police.

Mr Byrd was, of all mon, then, tho very ono to feel the utmost attraction toward, and at the BHinc time tho greatest shrinking from, this pursuit of .such investigations as were likely to ensue upon the discovery of the lnysteriouH case of murder which had so unexpectedly beon presented to his notice Ah a professional, ho could not fail to exporienco that quick start of tho blood which always follows. tHfc recognition of a " big all'nir," while as a gentleman, ho felt himself recoil from probing into a matter that was blackened by a possibility against which every instinct.in his nature rebelled.

It was therefore with oddly mingled sonsations that ho read Mr Orcutt's letter, and found himself compelled to admit, that the coroner had possessed a truer insight than himself into tho truo cause of Miss Dare's eccentric conduct upon tho scone of the tragedy. His main feeling, however, was one of relief. It was such a comfort to think he could proceed In tho cafe wjtliout the dread of stumbling upon a cluo that, in boiiic .secret and mi foreseen way, should connect this imposing woman witli a revolt ing crime. Or so he fondly considered. But ho had not spent live minutes at tho railroad station, where, in pursuance to the commands of Mr Ferris, lie went to take the train for Montoith, before he saw reason to again cliango his mind. For, there among tho passengers awaiting tho New York express, he saw Miss Daro, with n travelling bag upon hor arm and a look on her face that, to say the least, was of moat uncommon character in a sr_*:ie of so much bustle and hurry. Sho won going away, then—going to leave Sibloy and Its mystery behind her! Ho was not pleased with the discovery. This sudden depar ture looked too much liko escape, and gavo him, notwithstanding tho assurance ho had received from Mr Orcutt, an uneasy sense of having tampered with his duty as an olliccr of justice in thua providing this mysterious young woman with a warning that could lead to a result liko this.

Yet an he stood at tho doprtt surveying Miss Dare, in tho few minutes they botli had to wait, lie asked himself over and over again how any thought »f her possesning a personal iiiteroat in tho crlmo which had just takon placo could retain a harbour in his mind. Sho looked so noblo in hoi' quiet aspect of solemn determination, bo superior in her young, fresh beauty—a determina tion that, from the lofty look it imparted, must have its birth in generous emotion, even if her beauty was but tho result of a rarely modelled frame and a health of sur passing perfection. Ho resolved ho would think of her no more in that or any other connection ; that ho would follow tho example of her best friend, and give his doubts to tho wind.

And yot such a burr is suspicion that ho no sooner saw a young man approaching her with the evident intention of speaking than he folt an irresistible do*iro to hear what sho would have to say, and, led by this impulso, allowed himself to eanntor nearer and nearer the pair, till ho stood almost at their backs.

Tho first words ho heard woro : "How long do you expocfc to remain in Buffalo, Miss Daro ?"

To which sho replied : "I have no idea whether I shall stay a week or a month."

Then the whistlo of tho advancing train was heard, and tho two pressed hurriedly forward.

Tho busjnpss which had taken Mr Byrd to Montoith kept'him in that small tpwn all day. But though ho thus missed tho op portunity of attending tho oponing of tho inquest at Sibley, ho did not exporienco tho vivid disappointment which might have been expected, his interest in that matter having in some unacoountablo way subsidod from the moment ho saw Imogone Dare tako the oars for Buffalo.

It was five o'clock when ho again roturned to Sibley, tho hour at which the western train whs also duo. In fact, it came steam ing in while ho stood there, and, as was natural perhaps, ho paused a moment to watch tho passengers alight. Tliero were iiot many, and he was about to turn toward homo, 'jylicu Ijp pa;v ;j 1/idy step upon the platform whoso apppavajipe was uo familiar that he stopped, disbolioving 'tho cvidonco of his own sgnsos. Miss Daro returned ? Mise Dare, who but a foiv ((ours before had left this very depot fox- tho purpose, as she said, of making a visit ot more or less length in tho distant city of Buffalo? It could not be. And yet thero was no mis taking her, disguised though she was by the heavy veil that covered hor fpatures. She had come back, and the''interest which Mr Byrd had lost in Sibley and its possible mystory, revived with a suddenness that callod up a solf.-conEoions blush to his hardy cheek.

But why had she so changed her plans V What coufd have occurred during the few hours that had elapaod since her departure to turn her about on her path and drivo her homeward before her journey was half com pleted ? Ho could not imagine True, it was not his present business to do so ; and yet, howore'r much ho endeavoured to think of other things, ho found this ques tion occupying his whoje mind long after his return to the village jiotej. Slip was such a mystery, this woman, it might easily bo that she had never intended to go to Buffalo; that she had only spoken of that p!s,ce as the point of her destination under the stress pf her companion's importunities, and that the real place far which she was bound had been some spot very much nearer homo. '+I)P fflot that her baggage had con sisted only of'a smolj b.a<j piat she carried on her arm would lend probability tp tnis ides, ycj; sjich was the generous character of tlis young detective ho hesitated to give credit to this suspicion, and indeed {.•QPk every pains to disabuse himself of it by inquiring Ri" tbp ticket agent whether it was true, as he Lad heard, jtliat Miss Dare had left town on that day for a visit to her friends in Buffalo. * i

Ho received for hia reply that she had bought a ticket for that place, though she evidently had not used it, a fact which seemed at least to prove she was honest in the expression of her intentions that morn ing, whatever alteration may have taken place in her plans during the coursa of her journey.

Mr Byrd did not enjoy his supper that night, and was heartily glad when, in a few moments after its completion, Mr Ferris came in for a chat and a cigar. They had many things to discuss. First,

their own c:iso now drawing to a successful close ; next, the murder of the day boforo ; and lastly, the few facts which had been elicited in regard to tlmt murder in the in quiry which had that day been begun boforo the coroner.

Of the latter Mr Ferris spoke with much interest. lie had attended the in>{ueabniin solf, and, though ho had not much to communicate—tho time having been mainly taken up in eeldcting and swearing in a jury—a few witnessed had been examined and certain conclusions reached, which certainly added greatly to tho impression already made upon tho public mind, that an all'air of great importance had arisen ; an affair, too, promising more in the way of mystery than tho simple nature uf its earlier manifestations gave them reason to suppose.

In the first place, tho widow had evi dently been assaulted with a deliberate purpose and a serious intent to slay.

Secondly, no immediate testimony was forthcoming calculated to point with un erring certainty to tho guilty party. To bo sure, tho tramp and the hunchback still oM'ered possibilities of suspicion ; but even they were slight, the former having been seen to leave the widow's house with out entering, and tho latter having been proved beyond a question to have come in to town on the morning train, and to have gone at onco to court, where he remuiued till tho time they all saw him disappear down the strcot.

That the last-mentioned individual may have had some guilty knowlodgo of the crime was possible enough. Tho fact of his having wiped himself out so completely

as to elude all search was suspicious in it self, but if he was connected with the as sault it must have been simply as an ac complice employed to distract public atten tion from tlio ical criminal; and in a case like this tho interest naturally eontres with tho actual perpotrator ; and tho quoa tion was now and must bo : Who was tho man who in broad daylight dared to enter a house situated like this in a thiukly populated street, and kill with a blow an inoffensive woman?

"I cannot imagine," doclarod MrForrls, as his communication reached this point. " It looks as if she had an onoiny, but what enemy could such a porsou as sho possess— a woman who always did her own work, at tended to her own alliuii, and made it an especial rulo of hor lifts never to meddle with those of anybody elsu?"

" Was who such a woman?" inquired Mr Byrd, to whom us yet no knowledge had come of tho widow's lifo, habits, or character.

" Yes. In all tho years Iliavobeen in this town I havo novel' heard of her visiting any one or encouraging anyono to viHtt hor. Had it not beon for Mr Orcutt, hlio would have livocl tlio life of ft recluse. As it was, she was tho most mothodieal person in her ways that 1 ever know. At just such an hour sho roeo ; nt just such an hour put on hor kettle, cooked her moal, washed her dishes, and sathorself down to hor sowing or what ever work it wait sho hnd to do. Tlio dinner was tho only meal that waited, and that, Mr Oroutt nay*, was always ready and done to a turn at wlmtover moment ho clioso to present himself, '

"Had sho no intimates, no relatives?" asked Mr Byitl, romoinbi'iing that fragment of a lottor he had read—v lettor which cor- Lainly contradicted this assertion in regard to even hor quiet life.

" Nemo that 1 am aware of," was the re sponse. " Wait, 1 beliove 1 have been told sho has a nephew soniowhoro—a aistor's son for whom she had some regard and to whom sho iuU'lldud to leave her nionuy."

"She had money, thuil!" "Some live thousand, maybe. Reports diller about .such matters."

And thin nephew, where dooa he live'

" I cannot ttll you. 1 don't know as any one can. My remumbrancotj in regard to him are of tlio vaguest character.''

"Five thousand dollars is regarded im no mean sum in a town liko this," quoth Mr livid, carelosely.

" 1 know it. She is called quite rich by many. How who got her money no one knows ; for when she first camo lioro she was so poor aho had to cat and sleep all in ono room. Mr Orcutt paid her somothihg for his daily dinner, of course, but that could not have on.iblod her to put ten dollars in the bnnk as she has done every week for tho last ten yours, and to all appearances she has done nothing ciso for her living. You

see, wo havo paid attention to her affairs, if sho Ims paid none to ours."

Mr Byrd again remembered that scrap of a letter which had been shown him by the coroner, and thought to himself that their knowledge was in all probability less than they supposed.

" Who was that horrid crone I saw shouldering herself through the crowd that collected around the gato yesterday T" was his remark, howovor. "Do you remember n wizen, toothless old wretch, whose eyo has more of tlio Evil One in it than that of many a young thief you see locked up in the county gaols V"

"No; that i.«, I wondor if you moan Sully Perkins. She in old enough and ugly enough to answer your description j and, now 1 think of it, she has a way of leoring at you as you go by that is slightly sugges tive of a somewhat bitter knowlodgo of tho world. What makos you nek about her ?"

"Because she attracted my attention, I suppose. You must remombor that I don't know any of these people, and that an especially vicious-looking person liko her would bo apt to awaken my curiosity."

" I sec, I sco ; but in this caso 1 doubt if it luatlfl to much. Old Sally is a hard ono, no doubt. But I don't beliovo sho ever contemplated n murdor, much less ac complished it. It would take too much courage, to say nothing of strength It was a man's hand struck that blow, Mr Byrd."

'• Yes," was tho quick reply—a reply given somewhat too quickly, perhaps, for it mado Mr Ferris look up inquiringly at the young man.

" You tako considerable interost in tho affair," ho remarked, shortly. " Well, Ido not wonder. Even my old blood has been somewhat tired by its peculiar features. I foresee that your detectivo instinct will goon lead you to risk a run at tho game" " Ah, then, you .sco no objection to my trying for tho scent, if tho coroner persists in demanding it?" inquired Mr Byrd, as ho followed tho other to the door.

"On tho contrary," was the polite res-

ponse. And Mr Byrd found himßclf satisfied on that score.

Mr Ferris had no sponor loft tho room than the coroner camo in.

"Well," cried ho, with no unnecessary delay, ''J want you."

Mr Byrd roso. " Have you telegraphed to Now York ?" he asked.

"Yes, and expect an answer every minute. Thero will bo no difficulty about that. Tho superintendent is my friend, and will not bo likoly to cross mo in my ex pressed wish." "But " essayed tho dotoctivo. " Wo have no time for buts," broke in tho coroner. "The inquest begins in oarnest to-morrow, and tho ono witness wo most want has not yet boon fcund. I mean the man or tho woman who can swear to sccin<» some ono approach or enter tho murdered woman's houso between the time tho milk man left it at half-past eleypn and the hour she was found by Mr Orcutt lying upon tho llopr of her dining-room in a dying condition. That such a witness exists I have no doubt. A street in which there are six houses, every one of which has to bo passed by the person entering Widow Clemiripns's gate, must produco one indivi dual at least who can B^-csr to what I want. To bo euro, nil whom' I have questioned so far say that they were cither eatinc dinner at the time or were in tho kitchen serving }t up; but for all that, there v.'ore plenty who saw tho tramp, and two women, at least, who aro ready to tako their oath that they not only saw him, but watched him long enough to observe him ga around to the Widow Clommons's kitchpn dopr and turn about again and comp away as if for some reason ho had changed hjs mind ftb.ou.t entering, Now, If there wore two lvitnesspa to spo all that, thoro must have been one somewhere to notice that other person, known or unknown, who -wont through the street but a fow minutes before tho tramp. At all events, I boliovo such a witness can bo found, and I moan to have him if I call up every man, woman, and child who was in the lano at the time. But a little ioreknowlecJgQ he}jja a/ Ppyonpr. wonderfully, and If you will aid mo by mak ing judicious inquiries round about, timo will lip gajned, and, perhaps, a clue ob tained that will lead to a dirpot kijowlodgp of tho perpetrator of this crime.1' "But," inquired tho detective, willing at least to discuss the subject with the coroner, "is it absolutely nooassai'y that ■ho nsui'llsi'Si' should have advanced from the stroet ? Is there" lib" Way h6 could have reached the house from the back, and so have eluded tho gaze of the neighbours round about ?"

"Ko; that is, there is no regular path there, only a stretch of swampy ground, any thing but pleasant to travel through. Of course a man with a deliberate purpose be fore him might pursue that route and subject himself to all its incon veniences-; but I would soarcely expect it of one who—who chose such an hour for his assault," the coroner explained, with a slight stammer of embarrassment

that did not escape tho detective's notice. " Nor shall I feel ready to entertain tho idea till it has been proved that no person, with the exception of those already named, was soon any time during that fatal half hour to advance by the usual way to the widow's house."

" Have you questioned the tramp, or in any way received from him an intimation of tho reason why ho did not go into the house after he came to it '!"

" Ho said he heard voices quarrelling." "Ah I"

"Of course he was not upon his oath, but as the statement was volunteered, wo have some right to credit it, perhaps." " Did he say " —it was Mr Byrd now who lost a triQo of his fluency—"what sort of voices ho heard ?"

"No; he is an ignorant wretch, and is moreover thoroughly frightened. I don't bolicvo he would know a cultivated from an uncultivated voieo, a gentleman's from a quarryman's. At all events, we cannot trust to his discrimination."

Mr Byrd started. This was the last con struction ho had expected to bo put upon his question. Flushing a trillo, he looked the coroner oarnesely in tho face, liut that gentleman was to absorbod in the train of thought raisod by his own remark to notice the look, and Mr Byrd, not feeling any too well assured of his own position,forbore to utter the words that hovered on his tongue.

"I havoanothor commission for you," re sumed the coroner, after a moment. "Here is a name which I wish you would look at But at this instant a smart tap was heard at the door, and a boy entered with the ex pected telegram from New York. Dr. Tredwoll took it, and, after glancing at its contents with an annoyed look, folded up tlio paper ho was about to hand to Mr Byrd and put it slowly back into Ids pockot. Ho then referred again to the tele gram. "It is not what I oxpectod," ho said, shortly, after a moment of perplexed thought. "It seems that the super intendent is not disposed to accommodate me." And ho tossed over the telegram. Mr Byrd took it and read : " Expect a suitable nuui by the midnight oxpress. He will bring a letter." A Hush mounted to the detective's brow.

" You see, sir," he observed, " I was right when I told you I was not tho man."

"I don't know," returned tho other, rising. " I have not changed my opinion. Tho man tlioy sond may be vory koon and very wolliup in his business, but I doubt if ho will manage this case any better than you would havo done," and he moved quietly toward the door, "Thank you for your too favourablo opinion of my skill," said Mr Byrd, as he bowed tho other out. "I am suro the superintendent is right. lam not much ac customed to work for myself, and was none too oagor to tako tho caso in tho first place, as you will do mo tho juntico to romomber. I can but fool relieved at this shifting of the responsibility upon shoulders more (itted to boar it."

Yot, whsn tho coronor was gono, and lie gat down alone by hiuiHuli to review tho matter, Uo found ho was in reality more dis appointed than ho carod to confess. Why, he scarcely know. Thore was no lessoning of the shrinking ho had always felt from tho posHiblo developments which an earnest inquiry into tho causes of this crime might oduco. Yet, to bo severed in this way from all professional intorest in the pursuit cut him so deuply that, in despito of his usual good sonao and correct judgment, he was never nearer Bonding in his resignation than ho was in that short half-hour which followed the departure of Dr. Trodwell. To distract his thoughts, he at last went down to the bar-room.

(To be Continued.)

AMONGST THE HOOKS

[BY OIK LOMIiOM CORRKSI'OSDEHT.J

London, March 27,

TnK spring publishing soason does not at tho present moment promise particularly well. Very few now books of gcnoral interest ara announced, and nono of them Reom at all likoly to "set tho Thames on fire." Trollopo's last novel, "An Old Man's Love," came out on the 18th inst. It is, as the titlo indicates, the story of the conflict between an old man and a young ono for a charming girl's love. When the talo opens tho htroino loves the young fellow, but accept* tho old man partly out of gratitude and partly because she thinks it is her duty. Complications arise, and tho feel iugs of tho various parties change. Mr Trollope would not bo Mr Trollopo if ho could not work out such a story in a mildly interesting fashion, but " An Old Man's Lovo" cannot bo called a goodspeci nian of tho deceased novelist's atylo. Tho incidents upon which the plot turns aro too alight to exoito moro than passing attention, and the dialoguo is prolix to a fault.

Tho other day a friend recommended mo to buy " Gladys Fane," a novel by a New castle journalist named Womyas Reid, which lms already run through three editions, and can bo obtained in tho six shilling form. I found it very readable indeed. The scene is laid partly in London and Paris, and partly at Monte Carlo. Tho descriptions of the play tab.les i\t Ihp latter anil of tho wonderful sbenory near Jfico are admirable, and one's interest in tho story is retained up to tho last page, Talking of Monto Carlo reminds mo that "Zero," the curious serial story now running in " Tom pie Bar," is by Mrs Campboll Praed, whose " Policy und Passion " you have probably read, " High Life in Franoe under tho Re public, by tho lateE. C. Grenville Murray, whoso " Sido Lights of English Society " created such a stir in London a few years ago, will unquestionably bo one of the books of tho coming season. When Mr Murray wrote about tho English nobility his pon was dipped in gall, but he is kinder to the French Imperialists, and a inoro amusing series of chroniqum scandaleuscs than aro colloctod in this book it would be difficult to find. Mr Murray has something amusing or extraordinary to tell about ovoryone, and tho names aro disguised so slightly that tho veriest ignoramus can recognise the originals. Peterson's " B,owd lorisod" editions of |ho "great" tola's romances have long bedn for sale in Eng land, but they scarcely give what somebody caUs '! a correct idea of his g enkis," so Vizotelly and Co. aro issuing an "un abridged " translation of " Nana," with the French illustrations, at 6s. It is a highly edifying production, though aoaroply the sort of book paterfamilias iVould leave about in a houseful of girls.

Of all Fronch translations I think Tab oriau's aonsational tales ] )a vo the largest ealo in England. "The Slaves of Paris" was the last issued, but " In Peril of His Life " and " Monsieur Lecooq " aro tho most popular. Chatto and Windua havo published Cholmondloy Ponnol's clover " Pegasus Ro-saddled " in their Mayfair Library, at 2s 6d, and promiso Ashloy Sterry's " Boudoir Ballads " in the same form shortly. Tho latest additions to thoir two sljilHng noypl sprjes mcludo Ham Fds well's '.', Orio of Two '• (a clover detectivo story) ; " Gideon Fleyco,!' by H. W. Lury, a capital tale that I havo sovoral times men tioned to you | " Half-a-dozon Daughters," by J. Mastorman ; " A Fight for Lafo," the late May Thomas's best book. Tho only other new two-shilling editions I remember noticing ]attorly are James Grant's " MissOhdyneof Essilmont," Rita's " Dame Durden," and Florence Marryatt's " How They Loved Him." Anstoy's "Qiant's Rone" is drawing to a close in tho "Cornhill Magazine," tho March number of which contains tho open ing chapters of " Margery of Quether," by tho author of "John Honing." Under Pp,yn!B<sditorahip tho "Cornhill"has become far tho best of tho cheap monthlies. I don't think tho "English Illustrated Magazine" jsdolng specially we.lt. Its articles aro too elaborately cutturcd for a, sixpenny public, and norther tho serial nor the short stories havebeen specially good. Nevertheless the exquisite illustrations cover a multitude of sins.

" Lady Grizel," by tho Honourable Lewis Wingfield, is unquestionably that gentlo man's best work, and a most interesting historical novel. The scene' is laid in the days'when Cjeorgp'll. wa3 King,' and Mr Pitt, the Prince of Wales (afterwards George III.), and many other famous men and women play prominent parts in tho story, which is that of tho notorious Duohetja of Kingston. Bontley has just published a new edition of " Lady Gi'iael" at six shil lingg, whioh I confidently recommend to all sorts and conditions of renders. Major Arthur Griffiths'.?"" Chronicles of Newgate," after running through two editions, has been re-issued in 1 vol. at half-a-guinea. Though somewhat sombre reading, this book has been very favourably received, and should find a place on the shelves of all public libraries. I can also commend a series of short sporting stories by Hawley Smart, which aro bound up under the title of "Salvage."' There may not be much in them, perhaps, but it is a capital book to occupy a spare half-hour now and again with. Really well written short tales are aa rare as a four-leaved shamrock,

A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON

Feminine Facts, Fashions, and Frivolities,

[By Eli.sk.]

PRKUIS,

movinci from onk paut or town to Another—The First Dhawino-hoom—Tub Caknivali in Paris —Ar* Klysek Bam.— Mdi.i.k. Nhvadaand MbsMackay—A Pro menade Dress Describei>—Miss Andkhson ANll 11KII GUAHMANS—WIIKKE Till! MONKY Gojcs AN" is to Go— Lucky Ghipvik— A DIS HONOURED INTHODUCTION—MIIH KENDAI.'S DINNKIt JJKKSfi IN " A SuKAI- OK I'APHIt" ])E BUItIHI'iD—MJSS JfORTRSOUE'sRIC-AWEAHAtJCE ON'THKSTAUE—fc!IJ,BKHT'B"DAN'I,I)KUOK"—A

UOWDY House—INDIGNANT PiTTiTKH—Miss FOUTEMCUH AM " DOKOTIIV "—TIIKBItBACHOV PROMISE (.'ASIC — KXTENUATINU CIRCUM STANCBB—MISH F'H SALAHY —AN AMUSING Aftkkpikob—" My Milliner's Hill"—The Plot—A CimcAT SucousS—MlSß IjINGABD as "AN fNN-OCKNT KOUOKK" — A FEMININE WHITE KI.KPIIANT—"NITA'S FIRST" AT THE NOVItr.TY TIIKATHK — A SUCOKBB —G US llAKKis'ti Souvenirs— New Hooks —Two Capital Novels — Roisert Buchanan's "NKW AuEi.AKii"—A Repulsive Romance— Chas. IIEADis'R "Perilous Secret"—Cheap Kditioxs—Nk\v Sonus, etc.

London, March 14. Dear Jin Ehitok,—Since last I wrote we have experienced the joys of moving from ono part of London to another. You really can't imagine what a nuisance it -was. In a New Zealand town the troubles connected with changing your residence are usually confined to the few unsettled hours when you are neither out of one house nor into the other. But here things are very different. Friends, acquaintances, tradesmen, and associations must every one bo abandoned, and a new set formed. For all ordinary purpose* South Kensington is as far apart from Westminster as Dunedin is from Oamaru, or Auckland from tho Waikato. Wo have practically moved into quite a different township. Tho first Drawing-room is being held this afternoon, so of course an icy north-east wind happens to bo blowing. I can fancy nothing more dreadful than sitting shivering iv one's carriage outeido the Palace on such a day. Tlio bare shoulders, which Her Majesty insists upon, are bad enough for many of us older people in the evening, but on a spring afternoon like this they make one feel as Eve did on an historical occasion —" naked and ashamed."

Emily, who is in Paris, sends me some amusing gossip about the Carnival, which closed last week. Sho and her husband were invited to the President's ball at Elyseo, but only stayed there half-an-hour. Emily says sho never saw such a mob in a Royal Palace before. It was barely possible to move, and the exquisite toilettes worn were invisible, and consequently quite thrown away.

The talk in Paris just now is all about tho American prima donna, Emma Nevada, who, at tho instanco of the notorious Mrs Mackay, has joined tho Koman Catholic Church, and was received with great eclat at tho ohapel in the Avenue Hocho the other day. Mdlle. Nevada is the rising " star " of the Italiens, and very rich. Emily sends me a description of a charming promenade dress which she saw this cele brated cantatrice wear in the Bois last Tuesday. It had a short, receding jacket and skirt of mushroom colour, embossed with garnet velvet fern leaves, and a collar with gradated curved facings and bias of velvet in tho darker shade, as well as the scalloped front panel and tho waist belt. A princess apron and back drapery of plain mushroom-coloured satin ; the apron, looped up as a bag plasti\»n by the bolt, on which shone a silver dolphin brooch, was decidedly novel. A similar brooch raised the side of the tunic, and smaller ones were repeated below the collar, and on the sleeve puffings, which like the skirt flounce was of satin. The Henry 11. hat of mushroom straw was surmounted in front by feathers, velvet ribbon descending the.sides, and being caught down by silver buckles. The parasol was of velvet striped silk with an ebonised handle, tipped by a silver man in the moon,

Hero in London " society " is much exer cised at tho way in which the charming Alis.s Anderson appears to be locked up. No young or unmarried man can get near her on any pretence. The other day my father called upon Mrs Griffin with a Mr 1; , who had known Miss Anderson well in the States. They told mo aftorwarda she was charming, but that Dr. Griffin, her father-in-law, sat by fcowling throughout the interview, and when an excursion to a famous artist's .studio was proposed, inter jected an emphatic veto. Tho truth seems to be that Miss Anderson divides the heavy salaries sho receives with her parents, who are consequently anxious to prevent her marrying. It is further averred that in a few years' timo the young actress (who is a most zealous Koinan Catholic) will take the veil and divide her great wealth betwixt her earthly parents and mother church. This last statomsnt may bo mere gossip, but there can be no doubt Dr. Griflin takos extraordinary pains to keep his charge out of the way of eligible bachelors. The other day a gentleman arrived from Now Zealand with an introduction from Mr Consul Griffin, of Auckland, to Miss Anderson. He felt quite contideritof being asked, to dinner at least, but Dr, Grittin, in tho rudest manner, ignored him, taking no notice either of his attached brother's epistle or of my friond's pasteboard.

I see that clever girl " Jiadgc" gives a lucid description of the lovely dinner dre?s Mrs Kendal wears in tho "Scrap of Paper" in last week's "Tvnth." "It is," she says, "of black ,silk or satin and laco, The front is mado of pleated cardinal silk, over which falls a second skirt of black laco edged with laco flounces and brightened with jot. At ono eido there is a panel of similar laec edged up tho sides with narrow flouncos. The train is plain silk or satin, and is just long enough for grace, The bodico is low, but couios high over tho shoulders in a very becoming ourvo. It is odged with black lace, and has no white tucker. Tho sleeves roach nearly to the olbow, and aro made of pleated black not edged with lace, and a sweet little sat?n bow is placed midway up th° fold,s o,{ not. Now, add red stockings and embroidered shoes, a.lso magnificent diamond orna ments, and you have a,U tho details in the picture" I must try and get a description of tho exquisite toilettes Mrs Bernard Beerc wears in " Peril." Two of them are, Tom says, specially suited for a climate liHo yours.

T]io cuviosity to witness tho debut of Misa Fortescuo in drama was so great that it was only with tho utmost difficulty Tom could got ub scats for tho first night of "Dan'l Druco " at tho Court Theatre, Afterwards I folt sorry ho had taken such a lot of trouble about them, as tho evoning turnod out to bo anything but a pleasant ono. Matters began badly. The management had fool ishly cut off about half tho pit in order to make room for extra rows of stalls, and both tho denizens of this part of tho house and tho gallery woro furious in consequence. When wo entered at eight o'clock tho Theatre was in an uproar, thoso who fancied themselves injured hissing, howling, and t' catcalling "in amost object ionablomanner. A few minutes' silence prevailed after tho rising of the curtain, but tho riot broke out again when Mr Clayton (ono of the managers) came on, and was renewed at intervals throughout tho evening. Ag a, natural re suit, the performers pot unnerved and de moralised, doing neither themselves nor Gilbert justice. I hud never soon " Dan'l Druco " before, save in the colonies, when Bandmann played the title rolo, and I expected a treat. Instead, we wore disappointed. Hermnnd Vozin's " Druco " is of courso very tine, but the play seemed altogether top long-winded and oldr fashioned. Naturally the cniree of Miss Fortescue was tho event of the evening. Sho locked oxtremely well in the simple Quaker dress of " Dorothy Druce," and met with an ovation so hearty and spontaneous that sho almost broke down. However, after dropping what Tom oalled " a pearly hut judicious tear, " the little lady recovered nnd proceeded with her part in perfectly composed tones. Miss IToriego«Q is not an actress at present, nor do I think she wijl ever make one. Her "Dorothy" was a stiltod, artificial, and marionetto-Hke per son ; in fact, neither interesting nor human. Sho had evidently been drilled as to every motion, and with the worst results. Tho wisest thing the girl could do would be to discard all such, teaching and be simply herseli*. She" received very kind treatment from the audienoo who would, evidently luivo made Setters Sxtremoly unpleasant for Lord Garmoyle had he vonturcd—as some of his partisans averred he would—to return from Paris for tho occasion. I think I ought, perhaps, to toll you that public opinion sooms to bo veering round about tho Gar moylo-Fortescue case. There can be no doubt, of course, that Miss F, has been scandalously treated, and must receive sub stantial pecuniary consnlatiitm. It is whispered, however, that " Gumboil" can urgo extenuating circumstances. Tho young lady, par example, ig said to bo a whited sepulchre in the matter of dress, i.e., gorgeous without, but not too clean beneath. The ohorus ladies at the Savoy Theatre (all most respectable people) tell strange tales about her slangy talk, and about the way

ho bragged of hoy engagement to Gar moylo. There can, I believe, be no doubt whatever that it was her strange conduct whilst visiting Lord Uftirns that resolved him to oppose the match at all hazards. Unquestionably (.iannoylo w very much in love with Miss Fortescue three months iV'O and equally unquestionably ho does nt care a button for her now. Something be yond parental coercien must have occurred to bring about so sudden a change, lor my part I believe the woman to be in fault as well as the man ; anyhow I doubt her ccserving £30,000 damages. Clearly sho cannot have suffered professionally by the affair, for whereas at the Savoy her salary was £"> a week only, at the Court it is £15.

After "Dan'l Druce" camo a merry dialogue between Arthur Cecil and the in imitable Mrs John Wood, called "My Milliners Bill." It wa.s written specially for tho pair by 0. VV. Godfroy, and proved a big hit. iMrs Merridow (once an actress andlamousforhcrdresses) hasmarried Jack Merridew and retired from the stage. Her reputation as a well-dressed woman proves fatal to her. Sho runs up a terrible bill at a Bond-street milliner's. Unable to meet it, she is at her wits' end. Well may she wish for the times of Prince Poppet again, when sho was able to put all her clothes in her glove-box. Her husband, however, has secretly paid tho bill, but determines to ad minister a lesson ; so, having a penchant for private theatricals, he disguises himself as ii bailiff, takes possession, pretends to be an old admirer, and as a prico for his departure demands a song. This enables Mrs John Wood to revive one of the great successes of her regime at the St. James's Theatre, viz., tho popular "His Heart was True to Poll," from Uurnand's " Poll and Partner Joe." She sang it with all the old humour, and quite brought down the house. Of courso, Merridow now reveals his identity, and the curtain descends. The success of "My Milliner's Bill " was most pronounced. " Breaking a Butterfly,'1 the new comedy at the Princes (of which, no doubt, you have heard) might just as well bo called " Tho Innocent Forger," for where tho butterfly comes in I'm sure I can't tell. A more preposterous story than that of a bank manager's wife who forges her father's name to a promissory note, and cashes it with a villainous clerk en a salary of £150 a year, has seldom been laid boforo the long-.-iulFering British playgoer. Neverthe less, the piece contains some capital situa tions, the best, of course, being that at the close of the second act, where the upright and unselfish bank manager shields his wife by proclaiming himself the forger. Mr Kyrlo Bellew acts his part superbly, but Miss Lingard, in a particularly short blue dress and particularly high heels, is hope lessly at sea as the silly, mindless, child-v ifc Flora. The newspapers are especially severe upon her for her rendering of this character, becauso it is an open secret that the management considered her unsuitable, and wished to secure Miss Eastlake. Miss L., however, insisted on her rights. Edgar Bruce engaged her for twelve month* an leading lady at a salary of 50 guineas a week, and she declines to play any but leading parts. " Nita's First," a farcical comedy by a new author, a Mr Warren, was produced at a mahnee at the Novslty Theatre tho other day with such success that the American and Australasian right 3 were sold to dif ferent managers within half-an.hour of the fall of the curtain, the latter realising £250. It is now on the evening bill at the Novelty, and on Tuesday Tom took us to see the piece. I laughed a great deal. The plot turns on tho arrival of Nita's baby at her brother's house before a letter explaining certain circumstances is delivered. }Ir Fred i'izzloton (the brother), imagining himself the victim of a horribly compromising practical joke, deposits the little stranger within the open hall door of a neighbour. The child has been carried to Sootland yard, refused there, and deposited in a four-wheeler, whoso driver was asleep on the box, before the letter of his sister arrives, and reveals the true facts to the hoiiiried Fred. The rest of tho play is devoted to the search for the missing baby; a series of intensely divertingcomplieations loading up to a happy denouement. Tho little pieco was capitally performed, and (if done full .justice to) will please you anti podean theatre-goers.

Our next door neighbours went to Drury Lane Theatre the other night to witness the centennial performance of " Cinderella." Tliey tell mo the theatre was like a vast Hotter garden, as Mr Gus Harris gave splendid bouquets of rare hot-house blooms to every lady in the better parts of the house, and a well-bound brochure, entitled 11 Five Years at Old Drury," to the gentle men. The whole affair cost him aboijt £700, but it was a capital advertisement, as he well know.

I lmve just finished, a most interesting new novel," The Knave of Hearts," by Mrs Dielil. It isgensational, andyotit isn't, for though the plot reminds one of many ro mances in which a uecret poisoner works woe to the hero or heroine, the characters aie fresh and human, and the descriptions of country house life cleverly written. Another pood story no novel reader should rales bears the title "Introduced to Society," and is by Hamilton Ald& A rich Australian hqi-ess, who has neither father «ov mother, and whose English relations are nriddle-clats tradesfolk, persuades Sir Norman and. La4y Davenport, people of jjood family and unquestionable social position, b«t poor, to introduce her to " society," in consideration of her han^ ing over to them £4,000 a-year towards expenses. The experiment proves a success, but the girl runs considerable riskg, being oourted first hy one scamp and then by another for her money. Lady Davenport, howevpr, does her duty by her protege, and the heiress eventually meets the right man and marries him. This talo is written ■with consid«rablo ease, and forms very pleftß&nt reading. The " Queen's Journal " ha,s vun through three large editions of fan thousand each, and a fourth cam© out yesterday. Mr Hfikes's " Chinese Gordon" also con tinues in great demand. Anthony Trol lopo's last work, " An Old Man's Love," is to be brought out next month by $|ac* woods, who have already rus thd.ugh the largo edition issued 9^ ".'seorgo Eliot's Essays," Robert Buchanan is busy re vising his "New Abolard," tho powerful but disagreeablo story which ran through the '< Gentlemen's Magarfne ' last year. It describes the horrors whioh accumulate c^i tho head of a luckless parson,who^ after al lowing himself to doubt,q?cedes from tho Church of Eng^nd, and sinks through a purgatory of transcendentalism into a hell of doubt and atheism. Tho spiritual downfall is accompanied hy a moral ditto, which leads to. the rev. gontleman deliberately committing bigamy. His son, of oourae, find him out, and tho woman he adores leaves him forever, only to fall into the hands of the Jesuits, who promptly con vert, kill her, and absorb her fortune. When the new Abelard learns this, he despairs utterly, but presently finds time to hobnob with a prettly spiritual medium, from America. She turns out ft fraud, upon which Mr Parson goes half wad, and wanders about in Germany till h.o strays to Ober-Amnißrgan, and js re'-convevted to Christianity by the l'assion Way, Even tually the peasants find him dead on the etago of tho Holy Theatre with his arms rqund the Cross. The tragedy denoue mont is fairly well led up to, but tho whole story revolts one, Charles, ueodo has commenced his new novel, >< A Perilous Socrot," in several pro vincial papers. Ho told an interviewer tha other day it would be one of the best of l|is works. Chatto and Windus announce a cheap edition of Zimmern's «HaU Hours with Foreign Novelists, 11' and I see 2s re issues of Ann.o Thomas s "Eyve of Blejidon," Rita's "Dame Burden," and Miss Braddon's "Phantom Fortune" on all the book-stalls. You should certainly buy the last-named if you haven't read it yet. Now the ballad concert season is over the advertising columns of the papers brim over with announcements of inviting new songs, Amongst others that havo ap parently gained popularity, I may mention Tostis "At Vespers," Blumenthal's "Her Smile, Isidore da Lara's setting of Clement Scotts pretty vorses, "Last Night," and Michael Watson's patriotic " Our Guards " <riv% m» siQ from "PlinceßS Ida" and iajka, one of course hears everywhere but I don't think " Nell Gwynno" takes as well as tho publishers fancied it would. Padhillos "Suzanne" is, they say, to be the comic opera of the coming season.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 10, 1884

4



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t JJ. 1* . El V n » , t ESTATE, HOUSE. AND LAND AGIfMT ' J AUCTIONEER, &c. AGENT. | mO CAPITALISTS AND OTHERS, s FIRST-CLASS INVESTMENT IN Tm« t CITY FOE BALE n 3 ■ All that Valuable and Centrally Sitnatnfl Pw, I pertv. consisting of FREEHOLD ALLOTMENT r together with Commodious Double Sliod Stnii' t room, nn.l o looms upstairs, built of brick ™ L stone foimdution, in first-class position nnrtL °S r adapted for Solicitor's Chambers to-KinM 0 in j&ortlimd-slreet, near those lmn.lso.ne Mrt „ extensive new premises in conrsu of eonm,™? L tion for the EVENING Star ; and aho iW^S?" V Post-oinco, banks, and those ™'m C ent r,* 9 block ot buildings (l.he Arcade) nowfiff y erected for the New Zealand InsurE Com? '" This is a reaHlrst-clasg investment and w»n y worthy the attention of capitalists, i i 3 Jut. v out doubt, Ihu most valuable and aafen mVw1 1 ment now in the Market, with undeniable"prot pective value, second to none in Auckland 8 Full particulars from inland. k D. F. EVANS ;r 857 Estate Agent, Queen-street. a AUCKLAND-City Property; valuable bml ness premises, situate in Bhortland-atreet '* near Foaf-omce ; grand position. taia ' h ARAHIMU-J73 noros. part improved But n bush. Lot 93. Opaheke. ia«, - AVONDALK-22 acres splendid land moiX in r gross; a largo portion in orchard, and * shelter trees; good creek. IR.y> [- AMY-sTRKET ELLSKsLIK - 2 Splendid , r Allotment^ having a frontage or. about m feot. ism s BOMUAY-s!)} acres improved farm LandTeW n cheap. Only £30 cash, and £70 can remaK 0 for 5 years. mfsr BANKS'S COUNTY-3.300 acres of good forest 1 land. Abundance of puriri. kauri" toS it and other timber. About 3 miles from , Deepwator Creek. uul » BABYLON-A very nice little Farm of 100 „ acres; new house of 7 rooms, cowshed stockyard pigsty, Sec.; 2 good grass pad! v docks. The land on this farm is really eaafi , and can confidently be recommended as a ' very desirable little homestead, dosm c CHUHCH-STR r. ET-Villa Residence of 5 rooms y fitted with cupboards, dre.»ser register ftrate even, &c: good well and tank, well-stocked ~ garden. Price, £3SO. (7281 ? COMMKRCfA:, lIOAU, off Great North koad a . —&i acres; 2 acres paling fenced and tilanteS d with 300 fruit ti'ces. Very cheap. im\ 0 COMMERCIAL ROAD, oir Great North Uoad . —Now Verandnh Cottage of 5 Rooms Reuia. 4 teredGiate, Cupboards, &o. Allotment 91x a 150. £400. ™l s DAIRY fLAT-255 acres good Land, part vol. i. canic. bush, nice homestead of 4 rooms. * Price. 32iGd P! :r acre fiff" 0 DEVONPORT - Beach Road: i DwelUmr. c houses ; 3 let at £50 each, and one at £60 ~ First-class investment and very cheap. '• EDWIN-STREET, ROCKY NOOK- Veryntoa c little Cottage of 5 rooms: goo< volcanioaE t lotmeut. Price, only £250. ■ EPSOM-V illu, Retideuce and Grounds Also c splendid Building Allotments, near real' r denoe of E Hesketh, KaQ. (1751 t ELLERBLIE-11J tores Volcanlo Soil; etxA - road frontage, near Raoecourse. (ffiai ELLERSLIE (near Harp of Erin)-6.roomed '■' House, Outbuildings; every convenience e Station* "ml. °n main lOal noar Baggp , ELLERSLIE (on Panrauro Road) — Freehold ■ Building Allotment, ornamental trees c beautiful situation for building, main road -1 Land 198x198feet. £400. am" FERNLEIGHSTREET-3 Verandah CoSea 1 of 3. 4, and 5 rooms respectively. Ia good " order. City water laid in. Price, for the a three, £ot)0. A good investment. (liO2t . FRANKLIN ROAD-Two Good Villa Red. , dences, almost now—one of 6 rooms and tho " other of 5; gas and water. Allotments 33 r 190 each; magnificent view of harbour a Price, only £1,100. aogg> ' t GREAT SOUTH ROAD-!iacre9and6-roomed House and outbuildings on the main road r n»ar Elleralie Station. Price, £825. (903) ' n GEORGE AND WILLIAM STREETS PON. SONBY-Brick Houae of four rooms and c Boullery, outhouse, &c; allotment, 33 x 132; '. GREAT NORTH ROAD-About 5 miles from Auckland —A now and well-finished House of G rooms, stable, &c, and 3 acres Bplendid ° l«nd. in cultivation: bounded by a urand t Blream of water; more land if require! I SLENBURN, PONSONBY-Three magnificent ', tiitps for Marine Villa Residences. Price' 1 for the three, £IKO. Superb view of Queen, f street Wharf, North Shore and Harbour. ' HOWICK-Good Cot:age of 8 rooms and "acrea 1 land well fenced. Good well. Price £200, - JOHN-STREET - First-class Building ' Ault , ment, quite new, and good view. Price 30a per foot. | l( vi7i 1 LEAMINGTON ROAD-New Villa Residence r of 4 large rooms and scullery, American 3 stove, register grate,; allotment, 50 x 100. fl Prico, £27(i; £1.50 can remain 011 mortgage. ; MOUNT ROSKILL ROAD.-Villa Residraca 3 (b rooms), bath, range and shed. £500. (nai , MANGAKK-One of the best little Grazing roomed Verandah Cottage, Qtted with &o"pri *"e!m coloaiai OVeD' oupboarda, ' MOUNT EDEN RcLuD-Verr nice Villa'Rerf. 3 dence of i rooms; tank, outhouses good garden; allotment, JSJ x 198; best part of f. iuoimt JLden Road. natsu 1 MELFORD^TREEI'-Two good Villa Sites, eachoOxloO. IMce, 003 and oas per foot 3 NELSOX AND WILLIAM STREETS-ffiso I of 4 rooms and scullery, corner of Nelsoa street; water laid on, asphalt yard; allot ment io x 6G. Price, only £400. House sd> joining the above, 0 rooms, gas, water, &c,: ; allotment 33x45. Price, £Soo. (\oS - NEW MAIIKKT.-Nt w-sire«t: New Veraudab House of 5 rooms; good well, tynk, &o • ; nioa garden; allotment 4S x lm Price onlr ; £350. (Ris\ NELSONS'REST, CITY.^-A very nice and 1 commodious Hou*o of 8 rooms, haviua a ' »,T,VTIHId Ti"w oE luu boui' Prico. £65U (979) 3 NE\\TO}s (near Ponsonby Reservoir) Two Houses (a and 4 rooms), corner allotment; i for-both, fioOO. nvm ONEUUNGA.-CottaßC and Allotment! frie* !■ hold). SS3. (1127) PARNELL.—SeveraI cheap properties. PAPAKJJHv VALLEY -42fiuc re , good alluvial land; partly fenced, and a nojaoii improved; a splendid crei'k Shraujii tho property; about 3 miles from Railway station. iq n. POKENO- 189 acres Volcanic Land, nearlyail level; 26 acres cleared and in good grasa and iwa^Marizsi' O fbof f t-A crqpa, grass. &c.; good flve-roomea CottaaS and outhouses, which, with i oows, daiS utensils. &c, &o, is now offered (or £3001 Rituate.iust at Pokeno Station (Sffl RICHMOND ROAD - Two nlcely-flnished Houses, of G rooms each, fitted with every convenience. Let wels. Price, for the two. uA \i ?'m Va° ,l, be SCUid separately. (1103) RAM a RAMA-160 acres good mixed Land a shot distanoairomUrury, Cheap, at £3 lOa RAIoRMbK-48 Acres Good Land. 26 1^ h\ grass1; OVjttage of three rooms, oow-shed, JWgery, &o.; never-faiUng supply of water. Price, only £260. igrgt RYLE-STREET-Pretty Verandah Villa of S rooms, &o.; allotment 66 x 120; a very desirable residence, nmi RICHMOND ROAD-2 good BuUdlng Allot.' ments; qnjtolevel; 40x99each; good viowi. Must he sold. flOlfi) BT. MARY'S ROAD, corner of Dnblln-sureet lloueo of 5 rooms and scullery, and 2 rooma m 1 •jVeJ^2,^?: £**■ tanks. Sco. Price «583. (7SS TAMAKI KAST-Snug little Farm of 60 acret Jf °-(?5. House ot 5 rooms, wd usual ont huildings.; all new; stock,, &o. Prico, only *4SO. (1090> TK PAPA—IB acres good arablo Laud. Prices only 15s per eo?e. (HOT) Til WRO/- JANDTHE TEKRACE. MUUNT liftEV_A First class Rosidenoo of 7 rooms. dompleto with everr convei.ieuco. well laid out grounds about l acre : fruit and flower garden. Magnificent view. (015) VIEW ROAD MOUNT KDEN-5 minutes' from Railway Station — A new C-roouie4 Fwo-story Building, verandahs.bathroem, water laid in : fruit trees and venetab'o villa Residence of 5 rooms.-aud outbuild um; scoria soil, and good position. Only WAITANGI BLOCK, JIAKARAU-60 acres Of n 1 ' s^S posed to contain vatuablo bush, PrlGO, £60. fiiv>E\ WHATAWHATA-AYftip* River-BeauWrf Homest^' ~ &■ -, ..- . 1 -, Ci Btabl sheds, u . lt i c.m!..,.., 0., ; .^mild chorry grovq : stuamer stops at laudin. four time» «?s?iC y of wood and hoJf^ 11'?11-0^ Established BoatdSg. ffl^. ?usmess f«r salo. First-class oppor orouara 1 dwelling house. Cheap, £0';0 WHi NG « Rttl HSADi-Paruaßay -GOafres; part in grass and kanri; homestead farm} good road. Prico, £221. (9«ii WH xT a WI-I TA - Waipa Rivor -1(10 acres Improved Farm; flrat-olass residence; good oichard; charming property. Price, £ . l(«i (35Sk D. F. EVAN S, HOUSE, LAND, AND ESTATE- AGBNTj AUCTIONEER, &C. SETTLERS HOTEL, WALTON* STREET, WHANGAREI. MRS S. H. FULLER, PitoritiETßESS. ' This Old-established Hostelry occupies the Most Central Position of any Hous« in Whan fSwnv §? r lthiw, rai.nute s' walk from either Railway Station, Wharf, or Post-oftlce "nosscea. Si Tourists ENT AccM»™o°t^a NONE BUT FIRST-CLASS BRANDS OF WINES AND SPIRITS KEPT MACNAB AND HANCOCK'S ONDRA SUG AHT™ gALES B I L BilL^rp G.HTED o Q m GOOD S ATABLING. EVERY CIVILiTY~T ND ATTENTION PAID TO VISITORS. ORDINARY DAILy"aT ONE O'CLOCK. The Cuisine is under the Personal SnnnrinV tondenco of tho_Hostess Heraelff P TERMS MODERATE. S^^fflSuSeS BOHIHIIGTOH'S PECTORAL OXYffIEL QARR.AQEEN oi £ ] ,r !S h MOSS Bold tverywhereA G> BQNNINGTON. • •' Ghrietchurolv.