LILLIS OR THE Mystery of Langdon Abbey.

BY MISS SARAH PARK,

,inrnf "The StAhorn Grace-cup," "Robbed AU n ' a Crime," "My Lady's Plot." " .Madame 0 Juliette," "The Severed Lives," &o.

«»• vor« live a synopsis of that portion of &'• which hnß been already published, bo w after reading this paragraph, new readers tha • „„„ and read tho rest of tho atory just tho csn r«a if they lwd read It all from tho regl n - SK ■ rho Earl of LnnKdon secretly adopted tho n» V ann of hifl valet, Hood, as hia own son iDttr Becoroingdisgnstcd with young Ucod *n i.» «bw »P. tho old earl concluded to act 9? ~&le The young man, Robert Hood llinl is lord Robert-discovered this, and, know" '■~ j 0(1 , mlrc i crcc i the Karl at his rlcr?,m r.eiionco in Belgraviu. An ho Hod ''' tho Bcono Mills K°aa- tho heroine of tho ' -whoso mothor. Lady Rosa, was tho earl's ►Msokeopor-soizad him. and, ir th« struggle. f:0 Slii Bho recoßnisod hiui. He escaped, but tracked to his den by un aecpmplico, \ v ihnnv Fo cer.that ho supposed to bo in Puri?, ™Hm? liimsolf. so tlm'.ho could prove an r«S in ca«o ho should bo i.cous;d of tho »'">>,' ij.it Folgor had left his norvaiit to Iliu£tc Lord Robert, and bad kept on his pr i- bo as to have him comp'etely in hla tmtr Lord Robert loved Lillis, and tnado an lament with her uiolhcr-who was poor, and ambltioiis-tbat Wills should be bi 9 it "but Lillis refuse! to marry him, because i invert Oyri! Chesnoy, who adoringly ic tho Id her ioVo. Tho body of t he earl was ITI toLangdon Abbey for sepulture, aid Wr Rom and Mills attended Ibe funeral. Pm Pobert had reason to believe that tho old 'fri had hidden tho proofs of bin (Robert's) truo nJrflntaae and also the name of tho true heir to r, .nrlilom in the crypt of Lanwlon Abbey, '"fltheS'o resolved to stay thero and hunt JorthedocnnienW. It was arranged that Lady Bib should continue her situation as mistress (thn establishment. »o as to keep Lilhs at tho "Dlitv «nd Bive Lord Robert v olmnco to win tr But Cyril Cheney hud abo attended tho ■ fniml o( the old earl, and how he improved hio opportunities is told.in the following chapter.]

OHAPI'ER IX

I'ARTKH,

The old Earl of Langdon had paid tho pen- B lty of his sin, and, in tho words of Lady Melross, "gone to his last earthly homo."

The chapel crypt at Langdon Abbey had opened and closed upon him. Of the crowd of guests who had paid the final act of respect to tho murdered noble man, but ono remained—that one was Cyril Chesney. During the interval between his parting ff ith Lillis in the morning room at Belgrave Square and the burial of the oarl, he had scarcely seen hor, and not onco found the opportunity to exchange n word with hor, so keen had been tho secret surveillanco of Lady Melross. But, tho guests all gone, Lady Melross's obstructive policy suddenly ceased. Tho lovers were allowed to moot. It was in the little drawing-room oil' tho groat suito. "Thank Hoaven, 1 can havo you ono moment to myself !" cried Cyril, taking hor tenderly in his arms. " But, my darling, why do you look co wan and troublod ? Life is before na, rich in promiso, ami bril liant with sweetest hopes. Wo can well afford to be happy ; lot us bo." Liilis lifted ne,r no(u* from nis breast nn(l gazed at him with hungry eyes of anxious love. Their lashes all at onco heavy with rising tears, she exclaimed brokenly : "Ohj Cyril, it seems liko death to see you go! Will doath part us ? A great fear which I cannot define has hung over mo like a pall ever since 1 entered the Abbey gates, and now that you are goin^—Oh, Cyril! Cyril! whatever comes to us, never forget that I love you entirely, and shall love you entirely to tho last moment of my life!" She put up her arms with a gontle yet impassioned movement that made his heart leap. The tears raining over her cheeks, she laid her head against his breast. "My poor, little, fooliih darling," ho murmured, caressing hor, "you are only worn with the terriblo event that has brought you here. 1 shall see you soon, very soon. I think of that oven whilo grieving that I cannot remain another day atleast. But it is impossible. Stern duty calles me back to London. And nlns! time presses already. 1 must catch tho next train, and 1 must secure an interview with your mother beforo I go. Thon.love," kkaing away her tears, "mako mo happy with a bright smile, and I will seek her at once and—"

A flow, icy voice startlingly interposed. "Tint trouble, JMr Chosnoy, I will spare you," said the voico. The velvet portieres woro thrust roughly wide, and Lady .Melross stood before them. She was slightly breathless from the haste with which she had come; but she repeated her words, adding, in the same icy tones; "Thomother is hero !"

Cold as her aspect usually was, it was now absolutely freezing. For a moment the lovers stood gazing at her in a petrified silence,

Sho seized upon tho moment. "It needs no word?," sho went on, hor lip curling as she glanced at Lillis, stand ing spell bound within Cyril's arm—"it needs no words to explain tho naturo of your business with me. I will sottle the business at once. I will cay plainly, un mistakably, you cannot marry Mis 3 Mel rosa. I not only disapprove of tho alliance, but positively forbid it. Lillis, corao to me!"

Sho put out her hand and caught tho girl Bharply from Cyiil's side. Lillia, doubly slupified by n refusal as unfxpectcd as it was heart-broaking, only gazed at her in a piteous, astonished silence.

But Chosney was completely rousod by the act.

He bunt out, wholly amazed and half incredulous:

"It cannot bo ! You do not moan it, Lady Melrosa! Or you mean it only for the present-till Lillis is older?''

"I mean it for all timo."

" For all time 1"

Cyril echoed the words with a sharp ring 0] anguish in his voice, returning tho gaze of the hard, cold eyos that steadily defiod him.

"Foralltime I" he repeated, and his oyes flashed from Lady Melross to the pallid face Lillis atill mutely and pitoously raised to ward her. " Oh, groat Heaven !no !" "With that impassioned outburst ho invol untarily extended his arm to draw Lillis again to his side.

Lady Melroas interposed her own, and steppiiig back, exclaimed, haughti y : " Are you so obtuse, Mr Cheenoy, as not to understand that I declino tho honour of your hand for my daughter, and—" "Oh, mamma! mamma!" suddenly broko in Lillia, speaking for tho first time, " you will not, you cannot bo so cruel ! Oh, mamma, dearosl, what objection can you make to Cyril? Do you want to break my heart?" .

Sho stopped, chocked by rising tears. "Hearts aro not so brittle," returned Lady Melroes, coldly, and a little scornfully. "The day will come when you'll thank me for this."

" Thank you! I shall dio !" cried the gW, with passionate conviction. " Lady Melross," said Clieanoy, palo and agitated, but yet proudly dignified, " you Sl»y the day will come when Lillis will thank you—"

"I repeat it," " When Lillis will thank you for this cruel act," pursued Cyril, disregarding the interruption. " The words convoy a covert charge which I cannot allow to pass unno ticed. Permit me to ask your meaning ; and permit mo also to say that while I freely admit that no man could be worthy of Lillia's goodness, sweetness, and lovo, no man can be more worthy than I. Of my parentage I need not speak. You know it w> be unexceptionable. Of my life you snow only that it is stainlees in tho eyes of "EWorld, Lot me say I try to keep it as stainlees aa man can in tho eyes of my kod. Lady Melross, did you mean to inti mate the contrary ?" He stood grandly erect, with grandly <fet eyes fixed on her ladyship's face. Lillis looked at him-love,, pride, and dolight swelling her heart, to the momentary exclusion of every pang. Lady Melroes lookedat him in unwilling It gave a touch of gontleness to her reply. "Idid not," ?he answered. "Against you personally I have no charge to bring. V>nly desire my daughter to wed rank and "Cnes above yours, and now assert again J?" the hour is sure to come when eho will tnank ma for my w;ridly wisdom." vyril Chesnoy's eyos flamed a noble indig-

t/,u you would sell Lillis to the highest "waerl It is not the man, but his acces sories. Lillis I" turning from Lady Melrosa v * Passion of love, anjror, and despair, rt ? OUj make yourself a party to a crime '"Wthia? For a crime it is ! Will you-" I j I'l' Bw'l l obey her mother !" interjected Melroe.-, in stately wrath. " Lillis it i! "? arry tne m»n of my choice, whether "« wt own or not."

"Never! Cyril, never!" cried the girl, with glowing eyes. Tho next instant they were streaming tears. Sho claspod hor hands imploringly • sho looked, sho cried imploringly : "Oh, mamma ! you love mo, I know ! Makomo happy I Givomo to Cyril I" "In your own words I answer : 'Novor ! Cyril, never I'""

Tho fierce mockery, the iron resolution striking through that reply could not be described.

Tho lovers stood overwhelmed. The Lady Melross wont out, drawing Lilliss hand to her arm, and looking at Chesnoy.

"You will remember, Mr Chesney," she said, icily, "that my decision is final, and that from this hour I forbid Lillis to hold tho slightest intercourse with you. Till this folly is forgotten you are to bft strangers to each other." "Then we shall be strangors for evor !" cried Chesnoy, vehemently. " So be it."

\\ ith that haughtily indifferent reply Lady Melross was about to lead Lillis away, when Chesney, forgotful of every thing but his misery, throw himself before them.

"Lillis! Lilliß !" he criod, "are we to submit? la our happiness to bo wrecked for rank and riches ? My love !my darling ! bravo all, and—' '

" Disobey your mothor T interpolated Lady M dross, scornfully. Cyril foil back, palu and rebuked. " Heaven forbid 1" ho ejaculated, brokenly.

Lillia escaped Lady Melross's arm. Sho flow to Cyril. Sho put out both trem bling hands. Sho looked at him with eyos of unutterable lovo.

■'Trust me, Cyril!" she cried. ''No earthly power can make mo false to my plighted troth. I lovo and must obey niV mother ; but I am yours now, yours for ever. Till Jloaven ro-unitos ua, farewell; and, Cyril, beliovo that Heaven will."

Her radiant inspirations communicated itsolf to him.

'■ I belivoit! Heaven will !" he cried,

Ho was about to fold hor to his broast in a parting embrace, when Lady Melroaa in terposed.

" I cannot forbid you tho houao, Mr Chesnoy," sho said, haughtily. "It is not mino. But understand that my daughter is mino. Whenever it pleasss you to visit Lord Langdon, Lillis will be a prisonor. I shall stamp out thid folly at once and for over."

Sho was turning in tho act of hurrying Liilis from tho room, when a startling in terruption oecurrod.

CHAPTER X. LADY MELKOS.S QAISii AN ALIA. Absorbed in their own emotions, neither Lady Melroas nov the lovers had noticed tho appearance of Robert Hood upon tho scono. Ho had swung back the portieres just in timo to sec Lady Molross snatch Lillia from Chosney'a embrace and hear tho words that followed. Thoso words woro scarcely spoken when Ills voico sturted them to a knowledge of his prosonce. I'ulo with jealous rage and hatred of the wronged man beforo him, ho loosed tho liorco grasp fastened upon the portieres and 'stepped forward.

" What Lady Melross cannot do, tho Earl of Langdon can," ho said, assuming an ox pre?sion of polito regret. " Liilis shall suffer no such indignity under my roof. She was liko a daughter to my haploss father. She is liko a sister to mo. Chosnoy, I ask your pardon, but—" Cyril cheeked him scornfully. "Do you think," ho cried, " it needs moro than L'idy Melros.-t's declaration to keep me from your house? I assure you it does not. Lidy Molross," turning hia proud gnzo to her ladyship's face, " while Liilis

mains a minor I yield and trust because is abounden duty."

He turned to Lilla and hnrriodly caught ier hand to his lips.

" Heavenbloss you.Lillis !"ho murmured with Heaven I leavo you."

His voico failed an ho mot tho girl's love lit, anguished eyes, and, wringing her hand in a last clasp, ho bowed silently to Lady Molross, and loft tho room.

Robert Hood, swelling with socrot oxul ;ation, followed. " Finis I" »id Lady Melross, coldly.

Lillw looked up at her. "Why." she exclaimed, hoarsely, re proachfully, why " needlessly insult 1 Wo shivll not bo with tho oarl."

" You arc wrong. Wo shall bo." "Mamma, you cannot mean it. After my rejection I" In her pain and mortification, the girl dropped into a. chair. " It is tho earl's wish and it is mine," an swered Lady Melros-,oying hor composedly.

" Immediately on tho departure of tho guests I sought an interview with him. The result was that ho refused outright to accept my resignation, and insisted on in creasing my stipend to tho amount of ono hundred pounds. As I happen to bo gifted with common sense, I adopted his opinion of tho matter. Consequently wo remain with him indefinitely."

Lillis mado no roply, but, dropping her hoad, buried her faco within hor hands. Ono by ono the tears stole through her slender fingers and foil. Lady Melross watched her a moment with "darkly-frowning brow, and then silently loft hor to herself. Better so I" sho thought. " Lot hor cry it out. Girl 3 must poriorco bo fools for a timo. 1 was ono mysolf once." The crash of wheols without, and Hood's returning step from tho porch, broko upon hor thought. Ho looked into tho drawing-room, as ho passed through the hall, and seeing her, wont in. " Well," he oxclaimod, hU black oyos glowing with nulico and triumph, "you bavo rid mo of a vory dangerous rival. It ia a most auspicious beginning. But," a shade of anxiety clouding his faco, " you aro sure, Lady Moliwh. Lillis has no suspicion of our ultimate purpose? Sho believes I havo re nounced all thoughts of making her Coun- Lady Melrosa half smilod. tess of Langdon ?" " Your adoption of her as a sister ought to banish any lingering distrust on that point. However, eot your mind at rest," ■sho odded, moro gravely. " Lillis suspects no moro than Chesney." " Whore i 3 she ? Can Igo to her ? asked Hood, eagerly. " Certainly not," returned Lady Melross, with decision. " I left her thore ' '— a slight motion indicating tho further room—" cry ing hor eyes out. Let her alone, Robert, and after this gust has blown over, quietly render yourself necessary to her happiness." Sho looked after him as ho went away in unwilling obedience, and fora moment the mother's heart rose superior to tho mother's ambition. " I hope he will bo good to hor and make hor happy," sho thought. Tho next in- Btantshosmilodinsolfcontempt. "Happy !•" sho muttered. "Of what am I thinking?. Happiness is not in life. Tho quostipa is, will sho bo better off with boundlosn woalth and a coronet than without?, I answer, yc3 ! That settles it. Sha oust wear tho coronet and accept tho wealth l" But her heart had softened. She slowly retraced her steps to.the Uttle Lijlip UAQi dried her tears and was stand ing at tho. window, hor whole attitude ex prossive of tho dqeppst dejection, "My child !" sauUfady Melross, gontly. lillis turned. Lady Melross stood atill, pa.vaiysod by a sudden fear. Standing thore in the pale, cold raya 01 tho sotting sun, tho girl looked bo wan arid ethereal. What if she should die I Habi'a, natur •, and ago wore, for tho momeni, obliterated. With all tho swiftness of youth, with all tho fervour of tho most impassioned, she sprang to tho girl and caught her to hor breast. "My child ! My child I" she cried, " whatever you do, never doubt your mother's lovo! You aro the apple of her eye, the all in all of hor life I" Equally touched and surprised at this unprecedented outburst, Lillis cried, brokenly, as sbo returned the lavish caresses : ... "Then you rolent, mamma.' You will make mo happy by—" Lady Melross laid her finger gently on tho quivering Hp 3. " I may seem cruel now, dear, she said. " I think only of your best welfare. How could it be otherwise? Trust me, Lillis, and—obey me !" , Her usual uncompromising tone struck through those two last words, and at the same time struck hope dead in Lillis s

Feeling tbo uselessnesa of further en treaties, the girl turned silently away. As sho noared the door by which she was about to leave the room, Lady Melross, touched again, hastened after her and, dropping a light hand on her shoulder, said gently, but. firmly : T "I do well, Lillis. Try to see it so. 1 would secure you a brilliant future, free

from tho cares and annoyances which have darkened my life."

'■ I will try to forgive you, mamma," said tho girl.

With that answer, and a glanco of sad reproach, she opened the door and went out.

On reaching the great hall, she suddenly paused.

The dash of a vehiclo, bowling rapidly up to the Abbey, had caught her ear and hushed her breath.

" Can he have returned? Has something awful happened 1" she thought, crossing her hands against hor heart in Bickening dread.

While sho stood thus, intently looking and listening, the ponderous knockor sounded a peremptory Bummonß that brought tho porter in hot haste.

CHAPTER XI. AN ARRIVAL —A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN. As tho doors swung apart under the portor'a hurried hand, a young man stopped in. lie was short, slender, and agile ; his skin fair and slightly freckled ; his hair a dull, reddish flaxen ; his eyos small and restless, and in colour a light grey. His face was smooth, save a weaklj moustache that failed to hide a mouth rather too large, but filled with an excellent set of teeth. The young man wag Antony Folder. "The earl?—ho is, of course, within?" ho asked, in quick, ringing tones, and then, without waiting for a reply, hastily passed tho man.

In tho subdued evening light, he had all at once rocognisod Lillis.

" Ah, Mies Melross I" he exclaimed, doffing his hat, and speaking with delighted earnestness, as he advanced. " I feared I should not have the pleasure of meeting you to-night, after the crowning fatigues and excitemont of tho day. How are you ? Ah, I see for mysolf. The fatigue aud oxcitoment have told upon you. lam sorry." Lillis gavo him a hand a little tremulous from her own recent foars, and anawerod, in a voice not quite even.

"But," she added, quickly, anxious to be rid of him and eacapo to her room, "you wish to see the earl. I —". At that moment the library door opened, and "tho earl" looked out.

"Tony!" he cried, "I thought it was your voice, but concluded it could hardly be. Come in."

"As I was not duo till to-morrow," said Tony, interpolating tho fact present to hia friend's mind.

He bowed to Liilis and moved on, in response to tho invitation, whilo the girl pursuod hor way to the stairway.

Hood's gaze followed her anxiously. After a momont he called, in gentle, quiot tones, advancing a few steps as ho spoko:

"You will be ableto join us atthe suppor table, Liilis ?"

"Oh, yos," answered tho girl,looking back, "Certainly."

hood smiled pleasantly, and turned to his Ruost.

" Why," bo frowned, in lowered tonos, as they walked on to tho library—" why do you como tonight ?" "To tell you tlio news—to tell you Lintor, tho dotectivo, is on tho assassin's track."

As he spoko he pushed to tho door, and Hood roolod back against the wall. Tho question escaped Lillis's ear ; but Tony's quick, ringing voico, in reply, repchod hor distinctly.

"Oh," sho thought, shuddoringly, "ho will bo hung ! Thank Heaven, it is not tho oarl !"

Sho hurried through tho darkening gallery and into her bodroom. It was cheerful with a great pine-knot rlro, and hor own favourito chair stood ready for hor uso on the rug.

Midway across tho chamber, sho was addressed by a voico from tho bath-room door.

Sho turned. A sorvant stood there with an armful of soiled towels.

Tho girl looked at her without roply, breathing quickly to herself. " That woman 1" The woman looked in roturn, and after a 1 moment,repoatcd hor question, Baying, in a strango, hotirso.raspinK voice: "I nslted, Miss, shall I light up? It's clouding heavy for a storm, an' grows darker in this north room." " No ; oh, no," answered Liilis, somowhat precipitately. " I like tho twilight gloom. Rut," nrrosting tho woman in tho act of ro tiring, "aro you to fulfil tho duties hero permanently ? "\es, Miss, as long as tho osrJ stays. I'm ono of tho now sot, Miss ; an' thorn as como from Lunon fur tho funeral hoy gono back. So thoro's nobody loft to do hero but mo."

"And I don't liko the 'new get,'" thought Lillis, gazing at tho tall and not un graceful figure in the doorway. " I'm a good seamstress and waiting-maid, too," pursued the woman. " I hopo I'll bo able to give satisfaction." Sho looked at Lillis with open, quostion ing anxiety. Instoad of replying, Lillis said, abruptly : " I have noticed you sevoral times in tho hallways. What is your name ?" " Kobocca Hough, Miss. It was vory kind of you to notice mo, Miss,"

"You aro not n person to pass unno ticed," returned Lillis, with a slight gesture of dismissal.

In a moment the woman's singularly tawny skin became livid. Sho gavo no heed to tho silent command. Sho stood perfectly, breathlessly still. Lillis, moving again toward tho easy chair on the rug, did not »co the change ; supposed, indeed, that sho hud gone. Rebecca's voico, speaking in tho lowest, strangest tone, startled hor to a knowledge of her mistake.

Sho turned hastily.

"I don't understand, Miss," said tho woman. " I bog pardon, Miss, but what do you moan ? What is there wrong about mo?"

"Wrong !" echoed Lillis, surprised. The next instant, imagining sho had wounded tho woman's feelings, she said, gontly, all the tender Bweetness of her nature striking through the words : " Nothing, Rebocca. You ara only a re markable looking woman, with your dark eyes. If I hurt you, bo assured I did not mean to do so."

"Thank you! thank you, Miss!" re turned Rebecca, ie hurried, muffled ac cents.

The thanks spoken, she precipitately shut the door.

Safe without, she pressed her hand over hor eyes,drew two or throe gasping breaths, and thon.muttering a few indistinct words, dropped her hand and moved slowly away. Lillis, too heavily weighted by her own griefs to admit of moro than a passing curiosity about tho new tendant, forgot her with tho closing of the door. But the woman's return had changed her purpoßO a little, Instead of going to. the hearth, she turned and went to one of t'ae windows. For a few moments shostood there looking at the scurrying clouds and fast darkening landscape. Tho gloom without only increased hor own. Two big tears gathore-J and rolled slowly over hor chooks.

She brushed them oft"and turned away. In doing so, her eye foil upon her Bible lying in its usual place, wpon a little table standing'at tho corner of tho window.

Sho took it up. " Here I may loam patience and trust," she faltered.

Sho opened it, and was seating herself in tbo low rocker close by, when a slip of paper fluttered from botween the leaves to the floor.

Excessively neat in all her habits, it was an instinctive act to throw it inte the fire. In the act ehe suddenly paused. Five startling words stared her in the face, arresting her hand and breath at the same time.

She lookedatthom, wide-eyed and motion less. She read and re-road them. All at once a slow, frightened ejaculation crossed her lips. " That woman!" she cried.

CHAPTER XIL A NEW MYSTEKY. " That woman.'" repeated Lillis, Tho next instant she flew to the bath room. It was empty, She next went to the gallery. The woman was there, limpingly hurrying to the opposite end. "Rebecca! Rebecca Hough!" called Lillis. Though at some distance, she was still within reach of the girl's voice. She turned and came back as fast as her lameness would allow. " Yes, Miss," she courtesied, on gaining the door. But the respectful inquiry with which Bhe spoke was marked by a shade of surprise at Lillis's changed countenance and voice. Lillis bade her enter by a gijsture, and then shut the door. She addressed her rebukingly.

" What do you mean,"she asked," by put ting such a paper as this in my Bible ?" " Miss !" exclaimed thewoman, amazedly. That monosyllable uttered, hor whole aspect changed.

In one moment hor brilliant eyes were ablaze. Her tawny skin flushed red, and a devouring curiosity transformed her whole face.

She moved forward breathlessly. She looked at the open palm on which Lillis had all at once exposed the slip of paper saved from the flames. " Yes, Miss,"shehalf-whispered, incoher ently in her strange, rasping tones. "What is it, Miss? What does it say, Miss ? It's getting so dark, you see, Miss I" She caught her breath and put out her long brown fingers with fevorieh eogernoss and haste.

There was something so ptartling in her whole deportment, and something, besides, that so plainly and clearly proved hor inno conco that Lillis involuntarily closed her hand again and steppod back. "I have wronged you," sho saiJ, haatily. " I proceive you are quite innocent. But perhaps you will bo able to toll me who has visited my room during tho day ?" Still gazing dovouringly at the little white, closed hand, Rebecca shook herhoad, saying, as sho did so :

"Nobody, Miss, to my knowledge—not even Lady Molross."

Lillis opened tho door. Sho said, quickly, oppressed by the woman's intense curiosity :

" Very well—that will do. You can go " Thoro was a moment of almost imperccpt iblo hesitation on Rebocca's part. Then, appoaring to suddenly recolloct herself, she wont.

The girl shut the door upon her with anx ious haste.

"I wish," she thought, "Iwish Ihad not accused her. My doing so has only excited a morbid curosity.—But," all at once break ing into spoech, " what does it moan ? Who did it ? W hy should any ono do it ?"

Sho forgot Robocca. Running to tho window, sho strained hor oyos ovor the ominous words. Even in tho decaying light thoy wore plain enough, though illspolt and written in a rudo, coarse hand. Sho read them aloud:

"There is danger ! Watch ! Bewaro I" Danger of what?" sho mused, mutteringly. " Watch for what? Bowaro of what? On !" crying out with sudden vohemonce, "it frightens me ! Who is in danger ?" "Lillis Melross !" ochoed impressively through the room. It was a voice of singular melody and softness that made that unexpected and startling reply. It was, too, a woman's voico.

With a low cry, and an odd sonso of superstitious fear, Lillis turned swiftly, tremblingly around. To her amazomont sho was alono in tho room.

Save tho ugly shadows creeping about tho great chamber, nothing was to bo seen. Savo tho gcntlo hiss aud crackle of tho fire, nothing was to bo hoard—not the faintest footfall, not tho faintest rustlo of a gown.

An instant, and unreasonable torror took possession of tbo girl. For a littlo sho stood chained to tho spot, incapablo of anything but a wild, roving gazo that penetrated every nook and corner, only to incroaao hor fuars tenfold. Under tho impulse of those fears she all at onco Hod to tho gallery. "I must havo anothor room! I can't stay hero ]" sho gapped, jerking open tho door.

Ono of tho new footmen was in tho gal lory lighting up. As she rushed out ho paused in his task and looked at her in wondering inquiry.

The look partially restored her self-posses sion. But she uddrossedhim somewhat hur riedly. " Whero is Robecca Hough ?" she bogan. "I— Or never mind," sho all at once broko off abruptly with a sudden sense of hor own folly, "On socond thought, I Bhall not need her."

And without giving tho mnn timo for any response, sho wont into her room again. To appoarance, sho did so composedly onough ; but eecrotly sho was still quaking from tho unreasoning panic that had driven her to the gallory. Once in tho room, howovor, sho boldly crossod it and lighted tho candle. " I did not know I could be so foolish !" she smiled faintly to horeolf. "Though tho voice was Btrango to mo, it was that of a human being. And although undeniably startling, it should not drivo mo from this pleasant—" Then, suddonly struck by a now thought, sho pausod, crying tho noxt moment, " Who spoke my nauio ? Who anawored mo a whilo ago?' Sho looked around. Sho waitod with clasped ringers, great, watchful, expectant eyes, and bated breath.

CHAPTER XIIL A CHANGE MORE IMI'ORTAST TItAN LILLIS KNOWS. The hiss and crackle of tho flumes alone broke the dead silence that followed Lilliß's words. After a littlo sho spoke again, hor voico louder, more peremptory, and less eager. " Who oro you that warna mo so mysteri ously? And what danger could possibly approach Lillis Molrops, ? As boforo, no answer. A chill of fresh torror bogan to creep ovor tho girl. To hor oxcitod fancy thoro was something dreadful in tho silence. Sho rushed to the hoarth and flung tho slip of papor among the blazing knots. "I'll put it all out of my mind," aho whispered shivoringly, "and—l will chango my room. An unsoon oyo seems to staro at mo from every cranny. I can't: stay here —I can't."

Just then somo one knocked at tho door. With a nervous start sho turned round and onsworod.

Rebecca Hough camo in. " Biley said as how you was asking for mo, Miss," 6ho announced, speaking in rasping tones without a trace of hor rocent excitement. "Ho said, too, as how you next thought you wouldn't want me. But I thought bost to come. H or air seemod to deprecate rebuke. Lillis answered kindly, at tho same time concealing her secret agitation. " Sinco you nro here," she said, " I would like you to show mo that smaller suite of rooms near tho chapel."

"You mean them as opens on the cor ridor with tho big, mullionod window and tho lake view, Miss ?"

" Yes I think I should prefer them to those more spacious apartments." " They're more choorfullor, Miss, cortain. And they're soon got ready. Mr Chesney had 'em, and a good fire's still burning. Shall I make tho chango immodiato or to morrow, Miss?" "Immediately!" answered Lillis, with an earnestness she did not intend. "That ia," she quickly added, a modifying indif foronce in her tone, " if I find them as do sirable as I imagine. Attend me, and I will seo."

No fault could bo found with tho apart monts, and the necessary directions beiDg given, the romoval began. Ab Lillis, boaring some light and costly toilet articles, and followed by Robecca heavily laden, made the laat trip between the rooms, she camo faco to faco with Robert Hood.

Ho stopped in amazement. He criedout, a faint ring of disaproval, if not annoyance, marking his tones " Only moving to a prettier and loss spa cious suite," returned Lillis, quietly, in an swer to his quostion. " You can go on, Rebecca," pausing to address the woman, who, either through nervourness, or a doubt aa to the propriety of passing her young mistress, had also stopped. Robert flashed a sharp glanco from Lillis to the woman.

Lillis finished hor explanation, or rather began to do so, saying: " I havo tnken tho suito noxt the chapol —tho one —" There Hood interjected quickly, lowering 'bis voice. " Who U that woman, Lillis ?" " Rebecca Hough," answered Lillis, no less quickly. " Rebecca Hough !" He repeated the name in smothered tones of deepest satisfaction, and not till Lillis spoko aerain did he withdraw his intent gaze from the tall, limping form. "Do I know anything of her?" he said, echoing the girl's hurried question, as his eyes returned to hor face. "Yes, from your mother." " From mamma !" exclaimed Lillis, in sur prise. I "There is nothing in the fact to astonish you," he smiled. " She told me, on submit ting the list of new servants, that Nurse Dix (my old nurse), who was entrusted with the duty of securing a competent retinue for tho Abbey, pronounced Rebecca Hough tho most faithful, intelligent, and trustworthy of the lot " Lillie suddenly put the question troubling her mind. "But why not have tho old and tried ■ones bere ?"

" Is it possible you have not loarned my intention ?" ho criod. " Btas not your mother told you that I havo givon them a long-needed holiday ? No ? Well, until our return to London they receive their regular wages, ten pounds to boot, and liberty to wander whero they please. They deserve the consideration, not only in view of years of faithfulness, but as a compensation for the horrors—"

He stoppod in emotion. Tears of delight rose to Lillis's eyes, Sho cried, iV,;v::-

ously : " Oh, my lord, that is gjod 01 you! I should never have thought of anything co unselfishly kind and generous. I honour you." " And will you not do moro, Lillis?"

The girl shrank back at the lovor-like tone. "I mean," ho explained, hastily, " will you not call mo Robert? A brother might oxpect that much of a sister." Then with a sudden change of tone and subject that magnanimously precluded a reply : " You think this Hitting will not tako you too far from your mother?"

" That never occurred to mo !" cried Lillis, conscioncosmitten.

" Mor will it to her, sinco you are better pleased," smilled Kood. "Indeed, I'll answer for hor entire approval, knowing l:cr mother's heart. Yes," ho muttered to himself, as the girl directly moved on, "I'll answer for it, knowing not only tho mother's heart, but the mother's towering ambition. Should tho worst come to tho worst, my bonny love will bo as safe as a bird in its cago."

With a suppressed chuckle, ho wheeled off to his own rooms.

Presently, coming out again, he loitored watchfully in view of Lillis's new apart monts till one of tho doors opened and Rebecca Hough re-appeared.

At sight of her ho uttered a satisfied ejaculation. Then, moving forward a step, ho breathed a quick, soft whistle.

Apparontly it called the woman to a know ledge of his proseuco. Really hor furtive glanco had descried him on the instant. Sho looked, and hor swift, ungraceful limp, oven moro swift than usual, oboyed his beckoning hand.

Sho stopped beforo him, with respoct fully lowered lids. Abruptly, rapidly, significantly ho spoko, I To he. Continued.)

Mark Maynard's Wife.

A LOVE ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE.

CHAPTER XXIII,

" MY LOVE ! MY WIFE I"

When tho word " Trapped !" foil on Can dice's listening ear, her composure do sorted hor and she sank on tho landing, complotely unnorvod, but ontirely conscious of all that was going on below. At first there wasnoiso and confusion, and then two pistol shots rang out on tho quiot midnight

T" What in God's nnmo is tho niattor?"

Undo Sum, in his long white nightshirt, lookod liko tho ghost of HMnlot's father; but tho ludicrous a»poct ho presontod was unnoticod, and tho astonished old gentlo-

man was too much amazed to give a thought to his appoaranco as ho hastily dos cendod the stairs. Ho had boon awakened by the strango noisos and tho report of tho (ire-arms, Tho library door was open, and tho lirst glance to!d him what had hap pened. Several policomon wore struggling with what soomed t> bo a raging maniac, while ono man lay handcuffed on the floor. In a few minutus that appeared liko ages tho second ruffian was conquered ; tho band cull's clofod on his wrists with a sharp click, and tho midnight robbors wero prisoners.

" iVo arrived just in tho nick of timo, sir," a burly policeman said, espying Undo Sam in tho doorway. " Pretty Jim ia a slippery 'un, but lie's fast enough now ! Tho sorvants wero hurrying hithor a- 1 thithor, and tho house was in a perf..': whirl of oxcitomont. One of tho robb . < was wounded, and it was thought danp r ously ; so, while his companion in cn-..0 w:is boing marched oil' to tho police htaliu.i, a physician was summonod. R:itio was found on tho uppor landing, weeping over her young mistress, who had fainted, and declaring that sho was " kilt intiroly." Sho grow nearly wild with joy when Candico regained consciouanoss. Aftor tho excitement hud somewhat nub sided and Undo Sam had changed his night robo for moio suitable attire, ho returned to the room in which tho dying man lay. Tho wrotch was fast approaching dissolution, and in his delirium ho cried out, passion ately: "My darling !my wife"! Oh! Lota, come to mo !"

" Surely this man was mado for bottor things," Uncle Sam thought, as ho gazed at tho bandsomo faco and manly form of tho robber, but littlo did ho dream it was for his own nieco, Leta Maynurd, tho scoun drel was calling so wildly ! When tho physician arrived and ex amined tho man, ho said he was boyond roach of medical aid, and that it would bo inhuman to removo him to tho polico sta tion. Cundico, pitying him in hor innocent heart, strovoto allay his suffering. " Are you Loti> ?" ho a?kod hor, in a faint voico, as blio bont ovor him. "Oh ! yos ! I know you nro Lota, only your hair is dark, while my darling's is liko spun gold I" No nood for liundcuffa now ! Ho would nevor commit another criino ! " Pretty Jim" tho policomen called him. lie had been a "shady" character for yoars, a leader in shrewd conlidcnco gamos and tho principal in many daring robberies. Mark, opening his paper tho following morning, saw an account of tho attempted burglary, and at onco hastened to his unclo's residence. Ho followed Mrs Leo into tho room, whore tho woundod robber lay : ut tho first glanco ho startod back amazed. Could that noble-looking man bo a common housebreaker? "What strange freaks nature sometimes indulges in 1" ho thought. •'There ii a rascal of tho first water with the face of a prince !" So lost in reverie wan Mark that when Mrs Leo spoko to him softly and hastened from tho room, ho scarcely hoeded her doparturo. What was tho dying man muttering? Mark bont his head and listened with eager attention, for ho was cortain his lips bad murmured tho name of Leta !

"Am I dying?" tho man asked, abruptly. " I fear you are, my poor follow," Mark answered.

Raising himself from tho bod, tho robbor looked oagerly into Mark's face. "You are an honest man," ho said gloom " Onco I was so, too ! Do you boliove

me?

"I do," Mark answorod earnestly, and his tono carried conviction with it.

" Then, for what I have been, will you do mo favour ?"

" I will," Murk said, solemnly

As if a roaction had como, tho man sank wearily on his pillow. Was ho going to dio without anothor word ? No ; his eyos sud denly opened again ; they wcro full of tears.

"Shall I send for a minister?" Mark asked.

" No ! no !" tho man replied, vehemently. Ho raised one hand to his brow and pushed back the heavy masses of dark hair as if their weight oppressed him ; as ho did co, Mark noticed, with a start, a magnificent diamond ring sparkling on tho robbor's finger. "An hoirloom," ho said, noting Mark's lingering gaze. " Will you romovo it for mo, and when I am doad tako it, with tho papers you will iind in my inside coat pocket, to tho person to whom they aro ad dressed ?"

"I will do as you wish," Mark answored,

If Candico's husband was to find out if the man before him waa indeod Leon Tatro, ho must do it at once.

"Will you tell me who Lota is?" ho asked, placing his mouth closo to tho dying man's ear.

As if that name had power to call him back to life from death, his eyes opened, and " Leta, my love Imy wife !" issued from his lips, The words floated out with his last breath, and he was gone. Mark took the ring from his finger and the packet of papers from his pocket as ho had promised. He looked with curiosity at the packet; it was addressed to "The Countess Lucerne," and inside the larger envelope, which was unsealed, was a sealed package. Mechanically Mark drew this out; when he glanced at the address up on it he uttered as exclamation of joy, for the name-" Lota Maynard Tatro " stood out before his eyes ! Again he looked. Ah ! yes ! the street and number of the house were there too—a littlo, unfashionable street, far away from the crowded thorough fares.

Even though hi 3 sister was this outlaw's wife. Mark was conscious of a feeling of thank fulness that she was wedded ; but still the matter must be kept a secret ; Leta's name mupt not be coupled with that of a double dyed ruffian. Buttoning his coat carefully over the precious p&ckage, Mark noiselessly quitted

the room. Mrs Lee wag inthe act of entering, but he motioned her back.

" Is he dead ?" she asked

"Yes," Mark answered, as he signed to the pdiceman who was keeping guard outeido the door, to enter.

CHAPTER XXIV. a wife's devotion. The robber was dead, and the law had no further hold upon him. After the usual preliminaries, Mark bought a lot in the cemetery and furnished money ior a respec table burial; then hia mind was easier, fo r although tho world might call him Quixo tic, ho felt in hia heart that his sister's hus band ought to have docent interment. Candico had noticed his action wonder ingly. What did he mean by such a pecu liar freak? She liked him tho better for it, howevor. After all, sho could not feel as angry with him as sho wished, and was tempted to think more loniontly of his numorous. shortcomings. He had never referred to their conversation on that night whon ho had told hor ho loved her and eho had acknowledged hor regard for him, but had ignored it completely. Well, life is made up of disappointments and heart aches, with sunshine andhappinessscattored here and there. j

Mark was a constant study to her. Some times she was tempted to forgive him and confess her identity ; then the reaction would como and sho would turn from him almost angrily. Mark was pained at her conduct, and, thinking this life a strange enigma and the people in the world tho greatest puzzle of all, he started out in quest of Leta. Ho went to tho address inscribed on the package, but the landlady of the cheap boarding-house informed him carelessly that Mrs Tatro had loft there two days bofore.

"Do you know whore she wont?' Mark a-kcd, trying to speak indifferently. "No, I don't," tbe landlady answered, sharply. Then ho turnod away, dis heartened at meeting with disappointment whore ho had only thought of bucccss. But if hia sister was in the city he would surely find her. He could not, would not, rest until he had accomplished his purpose. That evening he was wandering aimlessly along, thinking sadly of his mother and Alice. Surely this life of his was bad enough, but was not theirs, waitirg at Valley Farm, even worse ? He could not tell what induced him to traverse the part of the town into which he had wandered, but on ho went until a light across the way attracted his attention, and just where it shone brightly on the grass-grown walk of a brick mansion illuminated as if for some grand ball, a woman was standing quietly, as if waiting for some one, but no one came ; tho woman moved restlessly, and then eoomed gazing straight into that festively lighted houso. Mark could not toll why ho stood like ono under a spell and followed that woman's ovory motion, for surely tho picture on which l.c was gazing was one of every-day occurrence. Now, right undcrthe cli&ndolior in tlmt richly-appointed room, a young girl was standing witli hor head bent, listening ; she, too, was waiting—for what? A hundsoino young man entered the room, went closo up to the waiting girl.and kissed hor softly on the brow ; thon, with one arm about hor waist, they sauntored back among tho shadows. At this Mark saw the wait ing, eager face of tho woman outsido droop as if in despair ; then she threw her arms above hor head and noieelossly fell prone on tho greensward. "She bus fainted," Mark thought, pity ingly, and hurrying ucrass the stroet with long, rapid strides,he bout over tho woman's prostrate form. Ono glunco at tho whjto face upturned to him was enough, and with tho words, " My God ! it is Leta!" he gathered tho frail young figuro in his anna ; her long oolden hair had become unloosed, and wus Moating over his shoulders wildly. L?ut it was Lota, his nistor, found at last ! Thank Heaven for that ! and ho kissed hor pulo lips. Sbo lay insensible in his arms. Than a terrible idea camo to him. Suppose sho was dead! Tho thought was agony. At length trho stirred ; »he was alivo, thank (!od ! and with tears in his eyes ho awaited her ictuni to consciousness. Tho bluo eyos opened at last, and tho white lips murmured, " Loon ;" thon Mark .VpuliO tO 1101. "Do you fool better, dear Lota?" ho

"Oh 1 yos !" sho answered sadly ; "but I inn weary, so very weary ! I beliovo I Imvo walked a hundred miles to-day I"

"1 know, dear,' Mark suid, tenderly, fearing to startlo hor, und with his urm en circling her waist ho led her slowly along tho street.

" Whoro are wo going, Loon ?" They wcro threading tho crowded thoroughfare and Mark did not answer, for Mrs Leo, on the arm of Uncle Sam, was ap proaching them. Leta's faco was .almost hidden on her brother's shoulder, and Can dico failed to recogniso the girl. She only knew that Mark, her husband, who had shunned hor co persistently, was there, face to face with hor, with a young girl leaning on him confidingly, his arm encircling her waist. Undo Sam had not noticed him at oil, and G indico turned from Mark with such a look of scorn in her wino-brown eyes as raroly visited their limpid depths. But hor glasses hid it. Mark had only time to notice tho haughty head raised proudly as tho passeci by, giving him no glanco of recognition. "A dead cut!" ho thought, blttorly, at) ho strove to steady LotaH steps. Mark took hta sister to a quiet boarding houso, ongagod rooms, and nover left her through all the long hours of the night. Ho mado her tako nourishment, and she obeyed him like a child, but boyond a start of surprise when she saw that it was Mark and not Leon who had brought hor thoro, sho made no sign. It wus truo then, all that sho had read in tho papora. Leon Tatro, her husband, was a thief, a midnight robber, and he was dead ! She had thought it falso, and that Leon had found her on the street, but now ehe knew it was Mark, her brother, who looked at her with kind, pitying eyes that burned into her vory brain. " Lot mo think," she said, wearily, when Mark addressed her, and ho, fearing for hor overtasked brain, stole quietly out to obtain for hor a composing draught at the nearest drug store. On his return hofound herstilleitting where ho had left her, with a drawn look on hor face, and without a tear to dim the sparkle of hor eyes that seomod unnaturally largo and bright. "Lota, sister, tako this for me, dear! Mark said, and she swallowed tho draught without seeming to realise what she was doing j he thon wont in search of a3sistanco, and one ot tho landlady's daughters offered hor services. Mark, thinking it would bo best, explained to her as far as ho dare his sister's sad condition, and tears stood in his listener's oyes when ho had finished. Ho told her Lota had lost her husband very recontly, and was noarly crazed by griof. Ho had dono all he could for hor, and what sho needed now was rest. If sho could sleep, it would bo hotter for hor, much bettor. So tho good-hoartod daughter disrobed and put Leta in bed, where sho soon sank into refreshing sleep. Tho soothing draught had taken effect, and Mark coming in later took his coat by tho bodsido to watch over hor through tho night. The landlady's daughter, a blooming young girl, who had been much impressed by Mark's gentlemanly address, busied horsolf about the room for a fow moments, every now and thfin stealing a furlivo glanco at the manly form and handsomo faco of the sufferor's brother. Eut Mark scarcely noticed her, and with a eigh sho told him to call her if she was needed. Ho thanked hor for her kind ministrations, and she left the room. Through tho long watches of tho night Mark kept his place by Lota's bedside; tho weather was cold and dreary now, and ho folt chilled and uncomfortable ; Etill ho did not stir for fear of startling tho sleeping glWhen the firet grey streaks of morning dawned, Mark bent over her uneasily. Was she slumbering yet? No! tho blue oyes were wide open, and she gazed love incly into his faco. Throwing her arms about his neck, oho drew the handsomo blonde hoad, so nearly resembling her own, closo down to her and UisEfd it passion ately. " Oh ! Mark ! Mark !" sho moaned, with a little, sobbing cry, and then a great etorm of emotion shook her like a leaf in the gala. Mark felt the warm tears cours ing 'down the delicate cheek laid so close aguinßt hia own, and knew that she was weeping. " It will do her good," he thought as ho held her in his strong, loving arms. Lota grew more composed at last and said, 6adly: *• ■ .•■ "You must despise me, Mark ! l:No! no! Leta!" he answered, ten derly ; " and tho folks at homo still love you dearly !" "And I have wronged them socrue'lv ! 1 ehe eaid, scarcely above a whisper.

"It it all ovor now, dear," Mark replied, "and you will go home with me; mother is waiting for us." " I cannot ! Do not ask me I" she ex claimed. "After a time, perhaps, I may forget; until then, brother, I am afraid I will be a sore trouble to you." "I guess I can survive it!" Mark answered, quietly, and then tried to turn her attention to other things ; he succeeded better than he anticipated. Finding her quite calm at last, he left her in order to mako some further arrange ments for her comfort, but hurried first directly to his hotel, to write a long letter to his mother. He wrote tenderly of his erring sister, but stated that the time of their return was very indefinite. " Do not worry, mother," ho said in con clusion ; "1 will take care of Leta, and when she is over tho bitterest part of her grief and mortificutiou, I will bring her home to you. I know you aro impatient, mother, and this waiting is very hard, but look hopefully forward to what tho future will surely bring." Tho letter finished, ho posted it, and, thinking Leta would be best left alone for a short time, sauntered toward kis Uncle Barn's residonco. The old gentleman met him cordially. Mark soon knew that his uncle had not recognised him the night before, oed was glad, for it would save all embarrassing explanations. He asked for Mrs leo in a careless, overy-day tone, and hia uncle rang the bell, requesting her presence But Candice had noted Mark's approach from her window, which over looked the street, and with the memory of the past night'p scene still rankling in her breast, she sont down word she was indis posed, and they would please excuse her. Mark knew it was but a subterfuge to escape his presence, but Uncle Sam in his kind old heart wondered what in the world ailed her. "She was well enough this morning," ho said, musingly ; '" she must have been suddenly attacked." " I gues3 she is not dangerously ill," Mark answered, gloomily. "It strikos mo, uncle, she will bo all right after my departure !"

Undo Sam looked up quickly, compre hending that somothing had once more come between the two whom he would give half his fortune to see reconciled. "Why fight against fate?" Mark said to himself, bitterly, on his way to the house where Leta lodged. " Surely Mrs Loo can never be more to me than shfl is now !"

But nevertheless ho continued to think of Mrs Lee, and her treatment of him made him unutterably miserable.

CHAPTER XXV. AN HONOURABLE NAME. The days that followed wore voxatious to Mark. Part of the time Leta would throw off her sorrow and appear almost cheerful; then tho old melancholy would reassert itself, and she would Bpend hours brooding and bewailing her wasted life. Mark, find ing her one day in an easy frame of mind, gave hor the packet of letters and the ring, and thon, with great pity for her in his kind blue eyes, told hor of the death of the man she had called her husband. Leta listened silontly; taking the package of letters from his hands, she looked them over carelessly,and then handed them back to him. What did it all mean ? She could not understand it. Why was so much about tho "Countess Lucerne" written on thorn all 1 Mark read them carefully, and as he read the interest they inspired showed itself on his handsomo face.

" Lota," ho said at lart, although your husband died an outlaw's death, there are extenuating circumstances. When very young he was led into crime by one much oklurthun himsolf; he fled to this country for safety, but his evil genius followed him here, and he plunged deeper and deeper into sin until ho perpetrated tlie daring act of burglary that ended his career. But, sister," and Mark straightened up his form proudly, "for all his misdeeds he has left you an honourable name, thank Heaven ! Theso papers prove your right beyond dis puto to tho title of Countess Lucerne. They socak of an estate in Franco. Some time we will investigate it thoroughly, Until then, Leta, be satisfied that the name you will horeafter bear is an honourable one, and unknown to the police record !" After that Mark always addressed her as " Mrs Lucerne," and she was better satis fiod, as tho name did not recall so forcibly the cause of her unhappy position. She had loved her husband dearly, thinking him noblo and good, and now that he was doad, sho pitied him that tho life begun so auspiciously should have ended in sh&me. And ho had loved her, too, for even at the last he tried to guard her from tho conse quences of his reckless acts. What might he not have made of that life if he had triod ! But instead he had gone recklessly on, inviting his own destruction. Finding Leta had determined not to re turn to Valley Fiutn, after urgine her re peatedly, Mark gave up the task as hope less, and waited patiently for the time when she would consent to go of her own free will. "I cannot bear to meet thorn yet," she said, pleadingly, in answer to all Mark's anxious questionings, and he was forced to bo content.

Alico and Mrs Maynard wrote tender, en treating iottera for the absent ones to re turn, but Leta shrank from tho home returning, tho glances of wondering oyos, and tho scornful remarks of hor acquain tances, as from a pestilence, and Mark knowing by experience that heart-wounds, Chough hard to'bear at first, grow gradually less painful as time elapses, bore with hor patiently. One evening the brother and sister were sitting together, talking quietly. Again winter winds whistled and moaned around the house corners They had found this boarding house very comfortable indeed,and still stayed on, never thinking of changing. The gas was lighted, and Mark was gaz ing lazily at the glowing embers in the grate, with his face tnrned toward the win dow.

Lota was directly opposite him, toying absently with the leaves of a new magazine Mark Had just brought home to her, hoping to wean her from thoughts of other things. She was rapidly learning to be content, if not happy ; and Mark hoped he would soon bo able to take her home to Valley Farm, there to complete tho lesson of forgotfulness if that were possible. " Mark," Leta said, in a hesitating tone, as if sho dreaded giving pain, for Bhe had borne so much lately herself that 3he was beginning to bo very tender of other's feel ings, "Mark, have you over heard from Candico?" " No, Lota, never I" Mark answered, his voico unsteady with emotion. "Whether sho is living or dead I know not!" " Forgive mo, brother, I did not mean to pain you," Lota continued, "but you will find her some day I am sure." "Ifl could only think so!" Mark an swored, sadly, " I am afraid my sweet girl-wife will never know how bitterly I regret the past ! Leta, these lines are always ringing in my ears and haunting me :

"' If I could live my life agaic, Aim know what I do now, Full many a word would be unsaid— And never a broken vow!'

" But we cannot live our lives again, sister. I suppose the wrong I did, half in thoughtlessness, willbealways written against mo, for I cannot wipe it out. I** havo roponted bitterly long ago, but that can do no eood I" Mark's voice died nway in silence; Leta rose from her chair and stood behind him, smoothing his curly blondo hair. Was it fate that, just at that moment, Candice and Mrs Chamberlain, returning from a charitable visit ani attracted by the appearance of the group within, should stand an instant in the street to gaze into that cozy little room ? It was only for a second; then Candico clutched her com panion's arm nervously and hurried her on, for the eight that greeted the poor wife's eyes had caused the warm life blood tc almost congeal about her heart, and sho felt as if she must faint if sho remained longer. Surely there was nothing in that quiet home fcceno to occasion so much distress in her friend, Mrs Chamberlain thought. A handsome young man, in dressing gown and slippers, sitting before the fire, seemingly content with his surroundings, and by his fide, with ono hand toying with his short curly locks, a young girl stand ing. Her face was in the shadow, and all they could fee was i delicate profile and masses of golden hair coiled high on tho head. A quiet home scene, nothing more, and Mrs I hamberlain gazed on it with a smile wreathing her lips. "A trifle spoony !" she said, with a light laugh, as Candice hurried her along. ">ot yet over the honeymoon by all appearances !'' Her companion uttered not a word. Mrs Chamberlain wondered why Mrs Lee had co little to say the rest of tho way homo. She did not know it was an effort for her companion to utter tho' merest trifle.

At last horn" •"-!<! reached, good-r:"'^ said, and CancU— n.J3left alone, to b»u«,a

over the scene she had just witnessed. Unde Sam had retired, and she hurried to her own chamber and locked herself in.

She hoard Baby Mark in the room across the hall talking to Katie gayly ; she did not go to him, but only put her hand to her head as if the shrill treble voice worried her. She did not weep, but sat there and thought what did it all mean ? How could Mark marry again, not knowing whether his girl-wife was living or dead ? It it was not his wife, who then was that golden-haired girl she had seen him with now for the second time ? When murjing dawned she had not closed her eyes in sleep, and looked haggard and wan. Unde Sam a9ked her kindly if she was ' ill, and she answered, " I have a headache, . that is all." He thought to himself if she had said heartache she would have come nearer the truth.

CHAPTER XXVI. "too old to love, too young to marry !' Mrs Chamberlain was a constant visitor at the brown-stone mansion, but whether Uncle Sam or Mrs Lee was the attraction was difficult to discover. " Boing such near neighbours, my dear," the lady said, gushingly, to Candice one day, " we ought to bo very friendly ;" and as if only friendliness for her neighbours prompted her actions, she commenced trying to enliven them. Euchre parties were very fashionable just then, and Mrs Chamberlain persuaded Uncle Sam and Mrs Lee to attend several. Can dice shrank from it, but Uncle Sam loved a quiet game and attended willingly. At last the gatherings at Mra Chamberlain's house, which at first had consisted of several per sons, dwindled down to Mrs Chamberlain's half-grown daughter, herself, Uncle Sam, and Candice.

At first Candico went, thinking to please her uncle, but after awhile she commenced making excuses and staid at home, and Undo Sam rathor unwillingly wont without her.

Mrs Chamberlain was a good-looking woman, just in the prime of Hie, well pre sorved, but rather too portly to be graceful. She had been a widow over three years, and was not at all averse to marrying again. Samuel Desbro was somewhat older than she desired, but rich and influential. Why should she not win him ? So by every art in her power she tried to enslave this man " wi' the lint white looks."

Uncle Sam was certainly very obtuse, for he would not evon meet the widow's ad vances half way, and she almost cried with vexation to see her most telling speeches utterly ignored or answered so indifferently that she was sure he did not understand them.

Poor Uncle Sam ! He had no more idea at first of Mr Chamberlain's designs than he had of Candice running off with the coach man, but when, at last, her conduct grew bo plainly apparent his old oyea twinkled merrily. She invited them over to tea one evening, but little Mark was not feeling very well, and thereforo, as quickly as politeness would permit, Candice hurried home to her boy, and Uncle Sam and the bowitching widow wero left alone. Now was her tiiiio, Mrs Chamberlain thought, com placently. " I want to have a little quiet talk with you, Mr Desbro," Bhe said, trying to look like a bashful schoolgirl. "I have no one to advise me or look after my interests since dear John died. It's a terrible thing to be a widow, Mr Desbro, don't you think BO?"

" I never was a widow, Mrs Chamberlain, solcannottellfrommy ownexperience.but if you say so, then of course it must be so," Uncle Sam answered, quietly, but with a note of mockery in his voice. "Of course you cannot be expected to know how a widow feels, Mr Desbro," she said, resignedly, "but eomehow women always expect to be protected by men ; they want advice and—"

" Haven't you a solicitor ?" Uncle Sam in terrupted, gravely ; " they arealways will ing to advise you, provided their fees are assured !"

"Oh ! yes, I have a solicitor, but we women want sympathy, something else be sides advice. Mr Desbro, you were never married, or you would understand what I mean. Conjugal happiness it euch a sacred thing I" " Yes, I've heard so," Uncle Sam said, dubiously; " but as to marrying, why I consider myself too old to love, too young to marry ! So, you see, Mrs Chamberlain, my prospects for conjugal happineas are, to say the least of it, rather thin I" Mrs Chamberlain turned away in disgust, and Uncle Sam, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, watched her with an expressive shrug of the shoulders. "A fine woman," he decided, mentally, " but a leetle too much on the marrying order to suit me I'1

Mrs Chamberlain wasnot yet discouraged. Might he not mean that he was older than herself ? With a little laugh meant to make hor appear wholly unconcerned, she resumed the conversation:

"You 'too old to love, too young to marry,' Mr Desbro ! Pray, how many men as old as you are commit the folly of marry ing nowadays ! Love," she continued, a triflg Bcornfully, " is not supposed to form a part of the contract between people past the prime of life, but Bometimes a great deal of happiness is derived from such unions. Age, it is to be hoped, gives us a little quieter view of life, and the couple that, if united when young, would quarrel continually, might if married later in life boaet of perfect happiness !" "True enough, Mrs Chamberlain," Uncle Sam said, quietly, "for those that wish to marry; but years ago I loved. It seems strange now, does it not, to hear an old white haired man talk of loving. But such was the case. I loved a fair young girl and lost her. There is a grave in my heart and over it a tombstone, the inscrip tion upon which is always fresh in my remembrance: ' Sacred to the memory of my first love!' So you see why Ido not caro to marry!" Mrs Chamberlain made no reply, but that moment she gave up all hopeß of ever be coming Mrs Desbro. "Such folly!" she said, with a forced laugh, as she watched him take his depar ture. "He is as sentimental as a young man of twenty-one ! A grave in his heart, indeed !"

Mrs Chamberlain tried to appear uncon cerned about the matter. Shn always had a consciousness that Samuel Desbro had understood her purpose perfectly well, and had taken that method to check all further attempts on her part to win him in the future. Despite his unfailing courtesy whenever they met, she felt uncomfortable in his preseuce.and visited the brown-Btone house rarely, until at last her visits ceased altogether. Candice wondered over the change, but said nothing ; on the whole ebe was glad of it, for the gushing widow's presence had bored her dreadfully when her heart was soro and oppressed by her own sorrows. Undo Sam visited the hotel Mark had first made his stopping-place, but was told that Mr Maynard had not been there for several weeks. "He has gone home," Uncle Sam decided mentally, and thinking it might inteiest Candice, he remarked to her that evening: "Candice, 1 visited the Denison this aftornoon, and Mark has not been there for several weeks. He has probably gone back to Valley Farm." Ah ! full well Candice knew that lie bad not, but hated to tell the kind old man how bitterly Mark had deceived them aIL She dreaded his just anger at this last ovidence of Mark's unworthiness, and even now, in her wifely devotion, kept eilent. Uncle Sam looked at her wonderingly, because she did not evince greator interest in her husband's whereabouts, and then said, half reproachfully : "Candice, how much longer is this game of crose-purposes to continue?'' "What do you mean, undo?" The question was only a subterfuge to gain time.

"I mean," tho old man answered, sadly, " that even your woman's heart should be satisfied with Mark's conduct by this timo ; his whole life seems shattered by your liss. Restless and dissatisfied, he is con stantly roaming from place to place, seek ing happiness but never finding it. Can you not forgive him, my child ?"' "Uncle, are you tired of me?" Candico asked, bitterly. " Why, bless you ! no, my dear child ! The old man could ill afford to lose his little ' Sister of Charity !' but you cannot always live with me. lam getting old ;if I should die, would, it not be far better for you to have a husband's protecting care? Be sides, my child, you must tbink of Baby Mark. It is a duty you owe your son."

" Uncle Sam I" and Candice's tones were oppressed v. ith a weight of sadness. "Kind est and best of uncles, I am afraid I must inflict my presence on you a little longer; for, dearly aa I love my husband, much as I care for baby's future, I would wash for a living, Btarvo on a crust in a garret, rather than acknowledge the pseudo Mrs Lee to bo Mark Maynard's wife !"

" Don^t pet excited, my dear I" Uncle Sam Miid, souihingly ; " but if, aa you say, you love your husband, why do you shut him out from that love?"

How she longed to cry out and tell tho story of Mark's unworthiness! But that would never do, for Uncle Sam would then seek him and her identity would be made known. No ! no! that would never do ! Besides, ehe must shield him, oven though her heart were broken in the effort.

"Think over it, my child," Uncle Sam said earnestly, "and forgive him if you can I"

"I cannot! oh! I cannot 1" she ans.vered, wildly. "Oh! Uncle Sam! always kind and good, do not ask me, for I cannot!"

He did not press the subject further, but wondered what was tho matter that these two, loving each other so well, should be separated by what seemed to him a woman's foolish whim.

(To be Continued.)

The Cholera—Terrible Mortality.

The "Gazette " published in Madrid on August 13 states that in the preceding 24 hours thero had been 6,464 cases of cholera and 2,109 deaths in 576 infected towns and villages of 36 provinces ; and in Madrid, 35 cases and 19 deaths, chiefly of persons attacked on previous days. A later return respecting Madrid noted 50 cases and 18 deaths in 24 hours. The authorities (the "Standard" correspondent at Madrid bays) have tried to conceal its existence in and near the provinces which aro full of Spas ; and tho much-fpequentod sea coast resorts aro this season crowded with fugitives and families from Madrid and the rest of Spain. The first cases are officially reported in Vittoria, Bilbao, San Sabastian, Tolosa, and Miranda de Ebro, and this haa determined numbers of families to fly to France. Every train is crowded daily, the average nurabor of persons passing the frontier at l'enduye alone being about SOO, mostly of the uppor classes. Directly cases of cholera aru re ported in any of these fashionable summer resorts a regular panic takes place ; people pack up in haste, pay any price for a carriage or oven a cart, to the nearest station,and in 48 hours hurdly a soul remains that can afford to go. It is curious to observe how the cholera seems always to be carried from province to province in the same way. For instance, at Zumarraga a family of fugitives from Sarogoesa brought with them clothes and linen belonging to a member of their family who had died of cholera, and two girls in tho house where they lodged at Zurmarraga were seized with cholera and died in 24 hours. The newspapers continue to publish accounts regarding the detention of travellers in consequence of the adoption of arbitrary sanitary precautions by the local authorities in many places, especially in the rural districts, where in some instances five to 20 days' quarantine is enforced. Travellers are compelled to sleep in comfortless barns and huts, and sometimes in the open air, being left entirely without the ordinary necessaries of life ; while in some villages they are refused admittance altogether, a guard of villagers boing established in some cases. Trenches aro stated to have been cut outside other rural places, thus.* rendering the roads impassable. Persons who had entered the villages aro also com pelled to leave, owing to the threatening attitude of the inhabitants.

The epidemic of cholera in Spain (says the " Morning Post" of, July 15th), though it has somewhat declined for a few days, continues to be terribly fatal. . In tho course of the last ehc weeks it has killed between twelve and thirteen thousand persons, or nearly aB many as died in Italy and France together in the epidemic of last year. According to the official returns, more than half the persons attacked have succumbed, and this statement would eeem to ahow that the disease is of an ex ceptionally severe type, The significance, however, of the comparison between atr tacks and deaths is somewhat lessened by the consideration that in a country like Spain, where the Eanitary organisation is of the most rudimentary character, no efficient machinery for registering non-fatal cases is likely to exist, and therefore the estimates of the number of such cases are probably mere guesswork. Even in iSngland, except in a few large provincial towns whicn have obtained special legislation, there is no system for either notifying or recording cases of infectious disease unless they happen to end in death ; and Spain is probably no better off in this re spect. The epidemic seems to have begun on the Mediterranean seaboard, and to have been most intense in the south-east provin ces. As usual, its direction of spread has been westward, but hitherto the province of Granada has apparently escaped, and some hundreds 01 milies at present intervene be tween Gibraltar and the nearest point attacked. Madrid has not yet suffered seriously, but its time may soon be coming. Unfortunately, both in the capital and in the country towns the eanitary condi tions of Spain are execrable. For come years the statistics of mortality for the entire country have not been published, but tho latest returns available ?how the death-rate to be habitually something like thirty per thousand inhabitants, whilo in England it is Icbs than twenty. In other words, in a given population three Span iards die to every two Englishmen. This fact alone proves that there is something terribly wrong about the sanitary condition of the country. No other State in Europe, except perhaps Hungary, with its pesti lential swamps, has anything like so high a death-rate, and there is no doubt that the circumstances which conduce to the spread of other diseases arc especially favourable to cholera. Where filth is allowed to contaminate the soil instead of being conveyed away in sewers, where water is derived from shallow wells liable to pollution, were noisome accumulations are allowed to ferment in cloee proximity to dwellings, there cholera finds a suitable field. Naples, Marseilles, and Toulon, three exceedingly foul towns, had a terrible lesson last year as to the results of neglecting the first principles of sanitation; and Spain is now learning from bitter experience tho truth of the old proverb that prevention i 3 bettor than cure. Prevention, indeed, with regard to cholera, is essential. The best arranged sanitary cordons, the most rigorous measures of quarantine, will be of no avail to stay the plague if the infective particles find suffi cient filth in which to spread themselves. Spain is paying the penalty of long-con tinued neglect; and we can only hope that the effect of the present epidemic will bo to impress the authorities with a conviction of the necessity for devoting Borne attention I to sanitary matters.

A Remarkable Voyage.

Considerable excitement was causod on the Thames or. Wednesday afternoon, Aug. 12, by the arrival at Mill wall of an exceed ingly small boat, manned byoneman,which, after a perilous voyage, had safely per formed the journey from Stockholm to Lon don. TJio little craft, which is named the Dolphin, is only 18 feet in length and not more than 4 feet breath of beam. It has an improvised forecastle and half-cabin, and draws only 30 inches. Its adventurous commandant is Captain Christien Svensdcn, a native of Stockholm, who left that port nine days previously, with the avowed in tention of making tho journey to Hull. ][q rigged a small sail, and for somo timo cruised about tho Norwegian coast. En countering come bad weather, he was driven considerably out of his course, and subse quently docided to make for London. On the fourth day after he started a suddon squall nearly capsized his little craft in the Gorman Ocean Captain Svennden was hailed by sevoral passing vessels, tho crews of some of them endeavouring to dissuade him from his enterprise, especially as there were signs of impending stormy weather. Nothing daunted, however, he continued his voyage, and arrived in London, as 'stated, on Wednesday afternoon. Captain Svensden ran fhort of provi-iona during his journey, butsuceccdedin obtaining supplies from tho steamship Kingston, bound for Hamburg. The adventurous Norwegian appears to have suffered more from want of sleep than exposuretotheweather, as ho had to keep a careful lookout.at night, and in the daytime ho was principally occupied in managing his boat. Captain Svenßdcn hid a very hearty reception at Millwall, tho i crew of a Norwegian vessel in the docks being particularly enthusiastic in (heir welcome. After remaining in London for a (short time Captain Svensden intends attempting the journey back in his little craft.

4™- Woman's Friend. -<£' other's advice to mothers: "'Keep by/ -oursulvcs and daughters, Mrs I)r. v ~'i Kem»dlo«. I havo never met r -o to will lueritinif then.unw ' They are invnluablo V ''hea, and other troy »* ■« ReaiHADvf $£ / **.& -.beltiie / ma Btasfc; / - S MART.

aoa on El hth Pace.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1885.

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