LILLIS; OR, THE Mystery of Langdon Abbey.

1 BT MISfl SABAH PAR R« ~. rm, o ßt Ahem Grace-cup,""RojAed .Bthorof" '$ e.?&uA: •iPM." " MaSaißi oIJ^X" "™c Sevored Lives' &°-

CHAPTER XXIV,

BEARS, 9PBAK3.AND IS ISTKRRUFTKD. t" tW Tody Molross entered tho library fund Robert Hood chafing up and ll"J °v. laneth in a atoto of ungovonmblo down' 18 _

eJC ,tem • the {ollowJng i ]Urr i o( ] ) go met >""■ . iijng words : ~tVe resolved to end this farco of court . I'vo resolved to marry Lillis in loss !!' » week-or new. No, don't in mo!" as La''T MeIrOSS dropped in- Sairand opened her mouth. Lady Melrosa did interrupt him. She ««d fatotly> ~T h e world ! What will tho world say ? Your poor father jus-" tfffhat con it »ay " interposed Hood, tisntly, and in the same oxcitod tones. Thow is tho world t0 knOW * haVC nCt ' 6n g»ged to Lillia for months paat? d what possible objection can thora bo " t qu i e t private marriage hero at the Abbey in tho Preaence of voursolf and t „? But you must do aa you please. If your sanction there 13 nothing 11. to be said. I'll end your torture and m .tinns by s,'iving you a year s salary Tc S & Abbey thi. day ! For tho ZZ $»» I shall make my home on 'ri ,«n«nt It is senseless for mo to 2?fflnon«4r. If I would wear Lillis i rftoldly seize and not attempt to win 0 Once W bridc> sll° will aeo°P* h(F ttUpily and rejoice in the grandeur it LXr and tho lifelong easu and luxury {ritt which it will anrely (loweryou, Lady Mt7ho«e crafty words Lady Melroa* saw a jle future for herself and Lillis. In Stle word " never " that had preceded, k»« the annihilation ot all hor ambitious Zst and all her present comforts. The natural dislike she felt to such hurried -LLiines died on the instant. P^f t he instant she justified Hood's con toe in his arguments by saying quietly: > "Rlnz tho bell, if you please. Tho jfflfehtforward way is now tho true way. llllii must be summoned and mado ao qwinted with my purpoto to bestow her bHori>wffw™y obeyed tho request. Ho MMriy watched for the girl's appearance, i/jha «me in' lookingso calm, proud, and rarely lovely, his vongoful anger and oxul- Stionathia victory over hor was lost in a thrill of impassioned joy But the next minute ho started slightly, Bid bending down to Lady Melrosa, beside w'aoio chair he stood, ho breathed a few -Did words. Lady Molroas fnitantly, hurriedly rose. Without looking it Hood, or in anyway betraying hor secret fean, Lillis walked into the room and iddressed her mother: "You wanted me, mamma? sho said. "In one moment, my dear. Wait, I will tebsck immediately." With that hasty answer Lady Molross went into the hall. Lillis hunt; her wraps omthebackofa chair. Hood camo for- WBTtl. "You were ibout starting for a walk, iffliaJ" he asked, spoaking with a fervour otgazo and accent that terrified tho girl. "Yes," she said pleasantly. Bheßtood there so winsome with hor pale aquiriteface, sweet soft shining eyes, and ffight brown hair. And sho seemed so awn his own now. Ho yielded to his im pcte, Ho claimed her with headlong passion. "Mydarling, my beautiful darling," he tried, 'the time has coma for me to unde wive you." "Toundeceive mo?"

The girl echoed tho words, recoiling in a tor ehe could not hide. Robert hurried

on with even added passion : — "Yea ! To acknowledge the truth, Lillis! Icamiot giro you up I I cannot submit to you detision ! This dear hand," seizing femlythe one she had extended in mute pt9test-"tl)ia dear hand must bo mine ! dice unalterably my brido, you will learn to love-" Ufa wrenched her hand from his grnsp. Subroke upon him with a loathing and wntlst yet was touched with a gentle J?.j, Looking up into his dark, passion-lit !w,(he cried tremulously, "loid Langdon, for your own sake, if not aißßiti6ver again address mo in such lan pje. I can have but one answer to mako. fittunwer you have already received. I viSootpain you by ita repetition." Lady Melross, who had ontered as the girl iegw ta !peak, brokeupon Hood'? meditated outburst. She said gently, but firmly : "Yourmother, Lillis, has reversed that answer." She half paused, and then con cluded:

"To make known tho fact I summoned

JW." Lillia turned and looked at her ladyship. Ho girl had doubted her ears: sho did not dosbt her eyes, Lady Molrosa's face struck tednmb. Capable of the one act of seining upon something for support, ehe grasped the «?6 of the writing table. "Yes,Lillis,"pursued Lady Molross, with triiw chilling determination of voice far more terrible than the sharpest words of un kWnew; "yes, I have answered for you. 1 ifflYe yielded to the earl's entreaties. I lave given you to the earl, and consented to Ifetrah for an immediate private marriage. Hay, bear me out," as Lillis passionately in tajosed. "I am an old woman, and it is tt« great desire of my heart to see you suit •Wy established in life before I die. As the wontesa of Langdon you shall be I ':. She stopped there, Lillis breaking upon W with irrosistable impetuosity. The #8 eyes bla;:ed out in. passionate re proach. I

"Mamma," she cried, " you are as dear to me as my heart's blood ! But never will Ijwcome the Countess of Langdon ! Never *"! I perjure myself by a false vow to honour and love the man you have chosen f»Bol The grave would be a welcome ftfagefrom tuchafate." ■}''' Pshaw!" ejaculated Lady Melross, *wins her hand contemptuously, whilo flood's olive ekin flushed red with anger. Mffiswent on unheediugly, adding in trem- HIOM tones :

. "Iwill not, ray mother, wed contrary to jDnr wishes, but neither will I contrary to ■T own! Lord Latigdon !" turning to •food with restored composure and a slight "toco of scorn, "prove yourself a nobleman ! woonnce a bride who would rather die •™i become yours." ' Lillip, I »m a man, not an angel; ex '!**» man's weakness !In three days, my ;, [wmparable darling, or six, at the t'ur ™«t,you will be tnado Lady Langdon." uuislooked at him in silant scorn. ■19 continued :■' Thore shall be no more JMeption, Lillis. I have a friend—an un kjrttmato clergyman who does not trouble Wtfoelf much about his soul, nor tho way he ""MM a few hundred pounds. That clorgy- Ban will unite üb." ■i™ one moment Lillis foreot all her PMMt tesolveß. She turned to her mother ,Ma oned passionately : v And you consent to this?" Bmceyou force me, yes. But only for w good, remember," answered Lady Mel ■w calmly. jj i? 68! you say!" The girl's beautiful :S"™g eyes turned from her mother to *M. She raised her hand. She cried , .5Wy as ehe pointed her steady finger : - Wok at him, mother, and know that "«ttan you have chosen for your Bon is the ■•.^ljtowofhia own father." V. weat Heavens, Lillis !" gasped Lady TehcT' cartied away by tho Birl' s headlong kn» w'toOt" pursued Lmi9>"thafc I&e, WM treUy checked by a sudden •'*M.k-L DBering tlw secret trust with feo»? * had charged herself, a surlden I™ 01 generous pity for the mute white r^^aian before h«r, and tho sudden | toth°| 1, he handle of tho door leading : ."Urn sorry I said it," she faltered hastily j %"g W hands and eyes. bhn you 6aidi<:," echoed Lady Melrosa I ; ..^W merged in a natural indignation. ! iowi,. S ght to S° down on y°ur knees ft-,?- *o accuse the man of the murder KjS. P°or old father i It's shameful ! >3lith«> shameful !" ■•i«W*fc ven' B sake nush>" cried Hood> ■'■*todfk j'6* hurried tones, looking to *PoW° •r" "It>s to° horrible to be TW eai. a eVBn by your kind lips." *Wl!r- mn S door fell wide. A strangsr ■*M.«T InKI 'Pon tho threshold. Strangers i .«» wanted at Langdon Abbey. Hood

rememborod it, and recovered from his panic. Ho advanced, exclaiming haughtily, Howisu B ,r, you presume to intrude yourself in this unceremonious way ? What, " hia wrath suddenly including tho servants, i ~, olt,° mv sorva'>ts about, I'd liko to Know? Strangers admitted against my express orders, and allowed to announce thcmtelves!

Ho turned angrily to the bell. The man walked m and stopped him with throe smiling, deprecating words : " I'm Detective Linter," ha said.

CHAPTER XXV. TUS MAX LIAST -WANTED. " LiNTEti!" echoed Robert Hood, visibly paling as he thus acknowlodgod the dotoc tivo'a introduction of himself.

" Lintor," bowed tho stranger, " and per mit mo, my lord, to exonerato your sorvants. ' Thoy are trustworthy, I assure you. It was only by oxplaining that I was confiden . tially in your lordship's employ that I suc ceeded in reaching tho houao. I must also 3 acknowledge that I alone am to blame for . my unceremonious intrusion, Being rathor early, and wishing to tako a survoy of the Abbey's grounds, I tcok a circuitous routo, and chanced upon a small side door instead jof the main entrance. I knocked several times, and, at last, finding tho door un fastened, I entered in." J "When did you come?—to tho village I moan," suddenly intorposed Hood, a cor tain angry sharpness in hia tone. " By tho midnight train." "And wherefore? I sent you word I would see you in London soon, and would not see you horo. I said explicitly I desired to bo loft a peaceful sojourn at the Abbey, and without poisoning reaolleitions of inter views bearing upon my hapless father's assassination. You should have respected my instructions, Mr Linter." Thero was an almost imperceptible pause boforo tho object of this sharp rebuke answered. Whilo Mood was speaking, Lillis had gathered up hor hat and wraps, and now quietly loft the room, unnoticed except by tho sloepy oyos of tho detective. The momentary distraction caused by this incidont at an end, Linter said : " 1 ask your pardon, my lord, nnd I hope to win it, though it may be you will insist my zeal has carried mo away. Briefly, Lord Langdon, tho blood-stono ring is likely to prove of more value asa cluo than has been anticipated. "Without doubt tno man who lost at replaced it in Paris." It was a frightful statoment to Hood's ear ; but Lady Molrosa camo ignorantly to his roscuo. Boforo Dotcctivo Linter could donioro than note hisemplayer'slluctuating colour, hor ladyship startled his gaze to her own face by a loud, vivacious cry. " I know it !" sho ejaculated. "I knew it !" " You knew it, madam 1" Linter's voice rang out eagerly as he put this question, and his sleepy oyos lightened into a dangerous wtikefulncss. " Yes!" answered her ladyship. "I knew it from the first! I felt from the first that I heard of the ring, and said from tho first, that it was destined to bo the monster's un doing ! You eeo I was right, Mr Lintor." "It would scorn so, madam," bowed the detectivo, politely, and turned his heavy lidded oyes upon Hood again. Tho miserablo man still looked pale, but was perfectly composed. He at once ad dressed Lintor. He said, warmly : "Thig newa has, indeed, won you my paidon, Mr Linter. The news is as gratify ing as it was unexpected. Sit down and let mo hear the particulars." ''Hear nothing until you tako that om blem of crime from your own ringers," cried Lady Molross. "I don t see how you can wear it. It chills my old and sluggish blond evory timo I chance to see it." "Then I won't wear it, Lady Melross. Soe, I will do rnoro. I will end ita exist ence." Speaking tho words, ho toro it with ono swift movement from his hands, and flung it among the coals. Lintor breathed a mnothored ejaculation, and bounded from tho chair ho had just taken. At the risk of burning all tho llesh from his fingers, ho thrust them into tho heart'of the (iro. With Spartan fortitude he seized and clung to the bauble, finally drop ping it upon the hearth. Thero ho set his foot upon it. Tho whole thing was done so quickly that thero was no timo to interpose cither by word oraction. Butthe ring fairly rescued, Hood burst out angrily: " What's that for ? I certainly havo the right to burn uiy own rin^." Linter made no reply. He leaned against tho chimney-piece, whito with pain.

"I think," ?aid Lady Melrosa, "you havo burned yourself needlessly, Mr Linter, but you shall have Q solution." Sho turned to ppeak to Lillis, but for tho lirst timo discovered thonirl'a absence.

She glanced quickly at Hood, but llooovs attention was riveted upon Linter. Tho next moment hor brow cleared.

"I havo no cause for anxiety," sho thought, and swept oil' on hor errand of mercy. Passing through tho breakfast room, sho found Tony Folger thero, a newspaper on his knoo, and wholly abssrbed in his own meditations. " You are still hora ?" sho said. " Better go to the library and hear the nows." "Tho new? ? Of what, Lady Melrosa ?"

La-.iy Melross motioned hurriedly as if to say sho had no time taflteparo, and disap peared. Somehow news did not strike Mr Folger as being favourable to his comfert or cast of mind. He got briskly upon hia foot and took hor ladyship s advice. He was more than surprised at sooing Linter. "Bnd, this, in tho face of positive ordors !" he thought, and then exclaimed easily : "lirttor! Why, what's up? Iho assassin bagged ? And what the deuce is tho matter with you ?" ' t " Burnt mysolf," said Linter. laconi cally. On ordinary occasions there was nothingtopirticularly distinguish Detective Lintor from other men of medium size. But as he now stood on tho hearthrug, his faco palo and his lipa set sternly with pain, both Tony and Hood recognised him as a man to bo feared. With an easy coolno?s that amazed Tony, Hood instantly followed Lintor's brief reply with the necessary explanations. "But why," he concluded, "Mr Linter should turn his fingers to a crisp to rescue my ring i 3 a mystery he alone can solve. " I did it on tho spur of tho moment, said Linter, removing his foot from the ring, and picking it up. " I've developed a mania for oxamining rings yesterday afternoon. You soo there was a distinctive mark upon the one bought in Paris." "There's a distinctive mark upon that one, I think," laughed Tony. ...... Mr Linter showed his strong white teeth in appreciation of the joke, and, Lady Melroes returning from her errand at tha moment,quibtly dropped the trinket into his pocket. , 11 ii v "I'll keep it to remember my folly, he said. ~ "When your fingors no longer serve tha purpose," supp'emonted Tony, with another laugh. "Well," relieving Lady Molross of the cotton and lotion, "it's on ill wind that blows nobody good. You have afforded me tho opportunity to display my surgical talents. They are great, Mr Lintor. 1 was born a surgeon, you must know, in fact, but for my stupendous lazyness, 1 should to-day bo a famous man ! As ho rattled on, deftly applying bandages and lotion, Hood leaned upon the mantel and watched him. "Tony's worried," ho said to himself. " Worry always loo?ons his tongue. It can't bo about the ring. That's pact doing harm. What then? The simple fact of Lintor's intrusion, most likely. But that was undoubtedly the result of mistaken zeal How could ho euspoct me of the pur chase of the ring ? He could not! His moditation had reached this point when Tony's task was ended with the bombastic declaration that his patient's hand was as good as well. .. „ Mr Linter tendered his thanks, and in the same breath announced hisresolve to board tho next London train. "But about this Pari'matter, » said Hood bold in his sense of security. " I'd like to hear more about lt S ffiS*4 and looked off to where Lidy Melross was seated at a distant win' ' °Hor ladyship was out of hearing. Ho acknowledged the fact, and accounted for his hesitation by t^ m^^J^7,%L "Certainly, a perfectly natural wish, he VeHe°took out his pooketbook, and found a newspaper slip. He gave this slip to Hood. , „ "It appeared in yesterday's 'Times, he oxplaipod.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE ADVERTISEMENT. LILUS's RESOLVE WANTED.-Tho English gentleman who bought a blood-stone ring at the shop of M. Balby, Rue St. Honore, Paris, on the morning of the 21st of November. The

Balby, as can bo proved on its return to the above address. All oxpensss paid by advertiser. Such was tho advertisement which Detective Linter gave to Hood, and which Hood and Tony road together. If Lintor counted on startling results, he was disappointed. Hood returned the slip with a smile that was almost scornful, "It does not seem to impress your lord ship," said Linter, displaying Borne chagrin. "It does not, indeed," returned Hood. " Still I commend your zeal, Mr Linter, Linter looked at Tony. That astuteindividual answered promptly and flatteringly in theeo safe words : " If you declare tho advertisement a valu able cluo, Mr Linter, I do the same." Mr Lintor put away tho slip. Ho said reflectively :

"I'm inclinod to think so. A blood-stone

ring was purchased the morning after the assassination. It was purchased by an Englishman, and that Englishman may have eoen tho losor of this," suddenly taking Hood's lost ring from one of tho pockets of the open book.

At tho unoxpoctod sight Hood turned pnle, but othorwiso showod no emotion, and Mr Linter put back tho ring into his pocket. Meanwhilo Lillis had left the house. She mado directly across the grounds as tho nearest routo to tho station. The gate shut, oho loansd and looked bnck at the Abboy. Tears rose to her eyes. "Poor, dear, misguided mamma I' she thought, "I will write to you tho instant I reach Solicitor Gibba'a, and secure the protoctivo caro of his wife. I will then tell you all about this sacred mission of mine and—'" She broke from tho thought with a glad up,vard look. The eun was shining full and bright in her faco. "It is ft benison !" she smiled. Brushing away hor tears, she turned to resume her walk. She turned and in stantly stopped again. Directly in hor path stood Bilsy. His hat was in his hand, and ho was bowing re spectfully. '•It's my lady's orders, Miss," ho said. "I don't understand," rejoined Lillis. "Explain youraolf." Bilsy did so. " My lady says as how, Miss, you're in no wiso to cross tho park ; begging your pardon, Miss." Hoping to hide the sudden pallor of her cheeks, Lillis turned, and without reply passed quickly into the grounds again. "Can it be?" sho thought, anger, ftar, and grief chasing oach other across her beautiful faco, " can it bo I am watched— surroundod by spies ? I will know I" Her hoad proudly eroct, hor lovely features proudly composed, sho got out of Bilsy's sight and took a more distant path. She roached it, and was mot this timo in the person of the loud-voiced footman, who had so nearly earned hia dismissal that morn ing. " You are sure," she asked, her cheek flushing with pride as she put the inquiries, " there is no mistake You received your orders from Lady Molross ?"

" Not from my lady direct, Miss. Robecca Hough was the ono as spoke 'em, But there's no mistako, Mies."

"Rebecca Hough." Breathing tho raino in abhorrence of the woman, Lillis hastily retraced hor steps. "I will try tho lodgo," she thought. " It may bo mamma is only afraid to have me wandering in tho lonely park. I will strive to think so. But," her lips curling tho noxt minute in a sad, half bittor smile, "will the public highway bo safe. Oh! why deceive myself ? This is tho Earl's work ! It was his art that hurried her from the library as I entered. I eeo it all! And too Into I sco my folly. I should have slipped away so:retly." She turned into a sheltered park, and realising how much timo had beon lost, in creased hor spood to a run.

Within a short distance of tho lodge, sho checked her eteps. Other stops wore ap proaching.

As she glided into a rofugo, Detectivo Linter, Tony Folger, and Robort Hood appeared. Tony and tho Detoctivo wore walking with easy familiarity. Hood walked smilingly beside them.

Breathloss and panting from her recent oxertion?, tho girl peered through tho inter vening ivy growth.

•'Thoy are going to walk to tho station with him," she thought, making an instunt leap at the truth, "lam utterly dofeatod this time. And whon " —suddenly clasping her hands with a gesture of despair—" and when shall I not bo dofoatod ? I cannot so much as safely mail a letter. And I am, too, in deadly personal peril. What is to sa\ o mo ?"

Sho answered tho quostion in a dozen hushed impotuous words. "I'll bravo tho Earl, and risk all," sheox eiHii,w! " I'll jinnnnl to Detective Linter. ' Tho men had already passed tnu lvioa oak; but, no loss swift than determined, sho sprang after them.

CHAPTER XXVII. A FRIEND OB AN ENEMY ? Robeut Hood, walking along tho odgo of the soggy turf, was noarest to Lillis. Tho headlong movomont with which sho darted from tho spot rustled the trailing ivy so loudly that it attracted his instant notice

Half checking his stops, ho cast a sharp backward glance over his shoulder. i Ho saw tho girl, Ho read her purpose. But tho curso that rlise to his lips diod there. At that moment a strong arm was thrown violently about her, and a strong ; bond pressed over her mouth. i With a quickened broath, a swift, dark srailo, and a furtivo glanco at his chattering \ companions, he went on. i From tho instant of Lillis's appoaranco in tho grounds, a lurking stealthy form had followed patiently in hor steps. As tho girl sprang from her scroening evergreen, the spy darted upon hor from the shadows of the box bush bower, It was , Rebecca Hough. ■ . . ' Almost bofore Hood had withdrawn his ; glanco the woman had tho girl out of sight. She hurried hor into tho bower. "Don't blame me!" she said rapidly, harshly. "Anyway, it'd done you no earthly good. It would only a' hurried things. You was wild to think of it. Your motbor would a1 sided with him. No body can gainsay y»ur mother, Miss, not even a detective. " At that reminder of her mothers am bitious complicity, Lillis ceased her desperate struggles and burst into tears. Perhaps tho woman's heart was touched. She said almost gently :— " If you'll promise not to scream or do anything troublosome, Miss, I'll lot you go." Lillis gave tho required promise by a shake of tho head and a deep-drawn sigh._ Rebecca put hor in a rustic arm chair, and withdrow to the doorway. She stood here, her sombre eyes turned to the lodge. )irectly the gates changed. • " Gone I" sho whispered, and wheeling ound, found Lillis's eyes fastened upon hor in a wild, questioning gaze. Th 6 girl hastily rose, tho tears still glistening o.i her cheeks. Sho cried with emotion, •'You have some heart I—it was in your voico just now, and—" " Don't think it—l havenono, interposed Rebecca, gruffly. " I will think it. I must think it. Oh, Rebecca Hough !as you may some day die and hope to die in peace, do me one little kindnosa !-mail a letter for me—see that it ia done in secrecy and uafety. See that it is done this day-this hour, if possible I As sho paused she caught the woman a long, slender, brown hands to hor breast in a passionate, tearful appeal. Rebecca jerked herself free, and turned away, and then turned back again. " Give mo your lottor," she said. "You will post it yourself ? with your own hands?" cried Lillis, breathlessly, yet anxiously observant of the woman's averted eyes. " I will. Give it to me." " Heaven bless you," faltered Lillis. I will have it ready in ten minutes. Come to my room at the end of that time." She started hurriedly to leave the bower. Rebecca checked her at the first step. " H'ant it writ, then?" she asked, look ing fully at the girl in her earnestness. Lillis replied in the negative. "Then, Miss, I can't say when it will be posted. Nobody can leave the Abbey without orders. I've orders to go_ to the village the minute you're safe indoors. I don't know when I'll be wanted to go aS"'oh ! what shall Ido 1" groaned Lillis. " Write it here—now, Miss." "On nothing?" She drew from her pocket an old letter, and tore off the blank sheet of the half. The bitter smile with which the sirl had spoken changed to an expression of heart felt gratitude and joy. " Write it," continued the woman, ana I will see to the rest at the post-office." # The question just rising to Lilhs a mind thus disposed of, she turned o glance of

luminous light upon Rebecca, and, eeizing the littlo poncil at her watch' chain, knelt down by ono of tho benches against the leafy wall.

The first word waa scarcely written, when Rebecca stooped and touched hor shoulder. " Make it short, and make it safe, Miss," she whispered, warningly. Liliia nodded, and in two minutes rose and placed the folded paper in the woman's hand.

" You will," she said, anxiously pointing to the address, "take the utmost pains to make it clear ?"

Rebecca answered, with nervous impa tionoe and haste, '■ I will! I will I" she cried, "go in, go as quick as yon can the quicker you are there, the quicker I'll be off."

Sho omphasied tho charge in a way that cut tho girl's thankH and last entreatios short.

She took her by the shoulders, and put her out of tho bower, her final act being a rough push towards tho avenue. Too thankful for the woman's assistance to bo easily offended, Lillis obeyed. Rebecca watched her past the curve with suspended breath and dilated nostrils. As the last fold of tho black dress disappeared from hor view, sho turned and limped round the bower with incredible quickness. The evergreen growth was thick on that side. Sho saw nothing but the glossy-leaved holly; she ho.'rd nothing but tho rustling touch of the chill, wintry wind. The faintest shadow of an inscrutable smile upon hor lips, sho spoke two quick, cautiously uttered words.

CHAPTER XXVIII,

THE FATE OF THE LETTER,

'• My Lord," said Rebecca Hough.

The evergreens rustlod, swayed, and Robert Hood stepped into view. His brows were drawn to a black frown ; his eyes scintillated fire ; rage distorted his features. Before he could open his mouth Rebecca presented the paper Lillis had jubt entrusted to hor caro. She said quietly, and with tho doepest respoct, "Something, my lord, which mebbe'll be of use to you. I don't know."

Hood snatched it from hor hand,

"So," ho hissed, "you saw me? Yeu found out your treachory was discovered ?"

Kobecca stared at him in a dumb blank surprieo for an instant, and then echoed slowly :

"My treachery! I thought I'd done your lor'ship a sorvice." "A sorvice," sneerod Hood ; "would it havo boon such to mail this as you promisod ?" shaking tho note in her faco. " I didn't mail it, my lord.1' ' For a good reason ! becaueo you saw me through tho branches." The woman's eyos lighted angrily. "I think, my lord," she answered, her harsh tones rising a little, "I think you forgot you brought mo horo to keep the young lady from doing anything agin your wishes. I've got her confidence, and your lordship's got the letter." Not quite satisfied, Hood cried sharply : " \ou whispered to hor I" " I whispered, ' Make it short and safe,"' "Safe? Ha!" '■It got hor confidence. Then, safe as eho might make it, it couldn't be safe enough to fool your lordship. But it's plain your lordship ain't confidence in me. That's enough. Instead of going to the village for Lady Melross, I'll pack my box and go back to Lunnon. I bid your lord ship a respectful good morning." The angry determination in her eye and voico ended tho matter. As sho mado her obeisanco and turned away, Hood cried irritably, "Don't bo an idiot! I urn sutisliod, You took tho best plan, i Jo and attend your du tioa. I soe I can trust you." " Thank you, my lord." With that reply she luit him. li\ his rage ho had not taken timo to look at the letter. Ho did not now. His eyo followod tho woman. "I soo I can trust hor," ho muttered; "but I can't got used to her. Tbore'a some thing uncanny about her—Pshaw," sud donly breaking from tho thought, and giving his attention to tho letter. He glanced at tho superscription and stopped at it. "Gibbs !" ho oxclaimed. "By all that's sharp ! Solicitor Gibbs! Not the greon young lover, but tho seasoned old lawyer ! By Jove ! she's keen as a fox ! meant to call that old legal warhorso to hor aid." With a laugh .he tore open tho note Laughing still, lie read it — " I mako," it ran, " an oxtraordinary re quest. By your iriendnhip for tho lute earl, I ontroat you to come to mo at Langdon Abbey. Gomo without an hour'sdolay, and come informally, making such excuse as you can without mentioning this note, i need you ! For Heaven's sake come, and do not leavo tho Abbey till you see me. Lillis Melross." " Well," he thought, settling into gravity as ho roaobod tUo end, " you have dono me a service, Rebecca Houtrh, * fi"" ~i.™b I'd h»»'° ~ >* >•""'IUI you • Ho moved slowly and thoughtfully in tho direction of tho lodge, tearing tho letter into small fragments as ho went. Ho had just disposed of tho last when Tony Folger's voico caused him to look up. "Stay whero you are, one minute, will you ?" criod Tony, crossing the turf briskly from the opposite direction. " You see," ho explained, as ho came up, " I'm not friendly to shrubbery when secrets are to be uttered. Accordingly I've watched your approach to this open space with a satisfaction only equalled by my patience." Hood, thinking of his own recent ex ploit, half smiled, and then asked sharply : " What havo you to say ? And how is it you did not go on to tho statiou with that sleuth-hound?" " For tho excellent reason that tho sleuth hound rondored it. unnecessary. By a littlo dextrous management I gained the informa tion for which I was angling. It concerns you. Ho is going to Paris." " Lot him."

" Yoa say that?" " I say it. My tracks are too carefully covorod to occasion me an instant's anxiety. There's not a clue to be tracked—not a singlo ono." "But-M. Balby?"

" Well." " Tlub ! Linter accounted insufficiently for his appearance here " " I don't think so. Zeal (confound him) was at the root of it. But oven supposing that suspicion—" •\Suspicion 1 that's it," pursued Tony, "suspicion brought him, suspicion has taken him away. More : it turns in that ring. He wa* at the townhouaa in disguise while the earl lay there, and saw you several times." / " You told me that before. "Did I? I'd forgotten. Then I'll go back to M. Balby. Should Linter bring him here upon Rome pretext (as he may), what then?" ~ " Linter won't do it. But should he, M. Balby will see a young man in the prime of of life instead of an old greybeard."

Tony looked relieved. Hood explained further. "In my oxcitemeut and anxiety I dis covered the loss of the ring too late to make use ot Borden in hie character of German professor." " Luckily," interjected Tony. "As it turns out," assented Hood, "ac cordingly I visited an insignificant cos tumier's, mounted a flowing white wig and beard, and transacted my business at M. Balby's shop as a ronerablo old gentleman with a gold-headed cane. But pshaw ! any man might lose and desire to replace a ring without being suspected of murder." " Well," said Tony, after a moment, " in view of the fact that the ring is past re cognition, I think I may pronounce you safe. But glad as I am,l want to be done with you. There's a place open for me at St. Petersburg, and I'm going to accept it. I'll do you a last kindness and take Borden with me till this thine blows over. I'll keep him with me." Hood's delight at tho first part of the announcement was nipped by a sudden deathly fear. " Borden," he gasped. "You don't mean to Bay Borden suspects?" "He suspects nothing," replied Tony, " and to make sure he should not, I left him in London instead of bringing him on here. But it won't do harm to get him out of Linter's way. And now will you let me have the dogcart and one of the n.en? If ro, I'll drive over to Groveton and take the 2 o'clock train for liOndon." "You may have tha dogcart and me," cried Hood, cheerfully. "If you'll return to the Abbsy and order the team I'll go on to the lodge, write a letter I want to mail, and be ready to take the reins by tho time Jake brings you to the gates." "All right," nodded Tony, and they separated. Tony soon saw lilli3. The sight of her instantly recalled the scene in the breakfast room. "That charming creatu'e knows more than she tells,"he thought, " and is I.fear.in some danger from Langdon. But happily she has her mother's protection, and is there fore safe without my interference." He smilingly doffed his hat, and Lillis, who had been watching his approach, went forward to the edge of the terrace to meet him. She addressed him eagerly, consumed by an impatient desire to know whether

Rebecca Hough had started for the vil lage. " You have just come from the lodge, Mr Folger. Did you see anything ol the—"

" Tho woman Robecca Hough," blio was about to add ; but the sound of an opening window and Lady Melross's voice stopped her.

" You are ooming in, my dear," aeked her ladyship as the girl turned.

"Very soon, mamma, almosi immediately," answered Lillis.

Lady Melroas hastily retired before a chill ing blast, and Tony Folger, naturally imagining the girl's inquiry related to Hood, answered accordingly—

"Yos, Miss Molross, I have seen the oarl within tho last 10 minutes. I camo upon him near tho box bush bowor, and directly sont him to tho lodge to—" " The lodge ! He is at tho lodge ?" Bud denly and breathlessly interposed Lillis, in scarcely audible tones. " Yea, waiting—" His sentence was cutshort again, With out a word tho girl flew past him, ran down tho marble steps, and in a minute was lost to view in the wild intricacies of the avenue. ( To be Continued.)

AT WHAT A COST.

BY THE LATE HUGH CON WAY, Author o£ " Called Back," " Dark Days," &o.

It was late at night. Tho fire had gradually settled down until it became a steady glowing mass of red, giving plenty of heat but little flams. The shaded lamp from the edge of tho tablo threw a circle of light, widening until it reached the floor, whoro it lay, a luminous disc, and left all outside in sombre gloom. The room was evidently a library, aa tall cases of books loomed from each wall and the massive table in the contro was strewn with pamphlets and writing materials. On a low chair, near tho fire, partly in light and partly hi darkness, sat a woman. She might have boon about forty-live years of ago, and was still beautiful. Hor hands, with the fingers interlaced, restod upon her lap, and her hoad leant,' wearily, against the side of tho mantelpiece Her attitude, ovon without the traces of rocont tears upon hor face betokened extreme grief. Well indeed might sho grieve, for in the room above her lay a dead man—hor hus band. She had bade her household leave hor and retire to rest, and hour after hour sounded as sho eat by the fire and mourned in solitude.

True, the man who had died that day had not her first lovo;not the one ehe had once hoped was destined to link hiy lot with lioiu yiie had married him tor esteem, friendship, respect, and many other admir able roaaons ; but her heurt was with one who had died many years ago. Yet they had beon man and wife for twenty years, and his unwavering love, his kindnesa, the homage he had ever paid her, had earned, as with wornon thoy over must, their re ward ; and as with sorrowful eyes sho gazed into tho fire, and lived again those twenty placid years, she folt that Death had that day decreed a void in her life which would novor again bo tilled. And yet tho dead man had not been the most cheerful companion to a woman in tho prime of health and beauty. Ho was ovor cad, at times gloomy ; but no harsh words to hor had ever crossed his lips even in hia moat dreary moods. Ho had lived a fair and noble life, doing in a quiet, secret way much good in tho place whore hia life was spent; good the extent of which sho, pernaps, only know. And as sho thought of thoso things and of the poor, white fuce upstair*, another Hood of tears came to her relief. She would sco it once more to night ; and by tho side of that motionless form kneol down and say, "If 1 have not loved you as your hoart wished, I have done all that I could—all that I promised." With this intention sho rose from her seat, and rißing, an objoot on tho irmntelpioco attracted her attention. It was a small key ; and that morning, oven ua ho died, hor husband, with feublo fingers, had placed it in hor hand, whispering, with a yoarning look on Ilia wan face, " Koad and forgivo." In the agitation of that torriblo hour she had takon little notice of those mysterious words—tho last, indoed, ho spoko—but now sho remomberod them and felt there was somothing ho wished her to know.

Tho key, sho was aware, gave accoas to a socrotairo in which her husband kept his private papors. Sho raised the shade from tho lamp, and its light, hitherto concen trated, spread over and illuminated the room, in one corner of which stood a bluck Sho'opened it, ancl ttf^P'Jf tW«lMnfei. search found what sho know intuitively was tho document designed for her perusal. . It waa a bulky packet, seuled, and addressed " For my wife. Private." Wondering, evon in hor grief, what its contents could possibly bo, and why the in structions to read it wore coupled with that piteous appoal for forgiveness, she returnod to her former seat, and after adjusting the light broke open tho seal and commenced tho perusal of the manuscript. Womanlike, she turnod over several pages rapidly as if to catch somo idea of the general tenour of tho revelation, and, as in tho cursory glance sho took she saw one name, a well-known name, written frequently, a feeling of fear thrilled her, and with a low cry of pain and horror she set hor lips firmly and with eager oyos devoured the closely-written lines, Tho message from tho man who lay dead ran thus :— My Wife,-When you read this I shall be dead, and you will, I have littlo doubt, be still in the primo of womanhood. Whether the love I have over borno you; whether the remembrance of those yoars spent, at loast happily, under this roof together, will enable you after reading this to think of m.c without cursing my name, I know not. Yet I dare not die and make no sign. I dare not let the grave cover the secret which is fretting my life out—which has twined for yoars around my heart like a snake, and which will at last still its beat ing—a secret that evon you in your wildest droums never suspected. As you read these pages.you will weep, but not for me. You will call for one who can never return, but the namo you utter will not be mine. Widowed though you be, it is not your husband yeu will mourn. Yet when this is written my mind will be i more at ease, although I know the con feesion which may lighten my remorse a ittlo lays a heavy burden on you. At least forgive me this. How Bhall I begin ? As I sit here to night, a prematurely aged man, I look back through the long yoars—so long, so weary to me and see myself in this same room, a young man of twenty-five, with all that conld make lifo pleasant at my command. Riches and friends —youth und health—and, as I fondly hoped at that time, love, that sooner or later, would be mine. Here I sat, I remember, one winter's evening, with my favourite companions even then, my books Was I reading, or was I dreaming of what might be ? I know not. My servant entered and handed mo a card—" Mr Gerald Gordon "—I shall feel, even in my grave, your heart throb as you road that namo —Gerald Gordon had been one of my earliest and dearest friends ; and, if lost sight of for some years, never for gotten. I was delighted to find him under my roof, and hasted to greet him. Ho had prospered in the world, having both made and inherited money, and had recently returned to England after some years' pro fitable work abroad. Affairs had called him to my neighbourhood, and upon his return journey he had come a little out of his way to pay me a visit for the sake of old times. We were unfeignedly glad to meet, and, as our hands clasped, many recollections of happy, boyish days rose between us, and the pressing invitation I gave him to stay some time with me was accepted as freely and heartily as it was givon. For you, Gertrude, least of all need I paint his portrait; but well I remember, as he sat with me that night looking at hi« handsome face with those straight, clear cut features, bronzed by the southern sun ; his crisp brown hair, and stalwart manly frame, and thinking one of the greatest gifts, after all, was personal appearance. Our conversation after so long a separa tion naturally consisted of questions and answers of a personal nature, and 1 soon asked him —

" Have you met your fate yet, Gerald ?" " Been in love, I suppose you mean," he replied, laughing. " Well, you see, I have juet come from parts where a fellow must make love, or pretend to, to get along at all ; but I cannot plead guilty to any grand passion as yet." "But how about you?" he continued. " Have any bright rustic eyes come between you and your books t" Fool that I was not to open my heart to him then and there! Not to tell him I thought of one woman only 1 Yet I was

shy and proud. I could not even Bay that my love was viewed favourably. A withered flower, given half in jest—do you remem ber it? A little preference, it might be, over my rivals, and that bestowed for the sake of friendship, not love—this was all I had to show in return for the love I had given and which I knew must ever give through life. So I laughed as ho questioned mo and answered as in jest. "lam heartwhole as yon, Gerald, and certainly invulnerable against the attacks of rusticmaidenß hereabouts."

" I hoped and expected to be introduced to your future wife in the person of the only daughter of some neighbouring squire : and would have done you a good turn by sounding your praises whilst I admired his fat oxen."

" Well, I will present you to all tho eligible daughters hereabout, and you can praiso their papas' oxen on your own account."

"Thank you—although, soriously, I am tired of living alone and want a wifo and a homo ; so I am quite roady to meet my fate when and wherover she appears."

I do not hesitate, my wife, to record these trivial words, for I know they will eeom to you as sweet echoes of a long stilled voico.

Gordon and I sat talking nearly all that night, and parted at last, oach happy to find the other's friendship the same as of old

Tho next day, with little regret I tossed my books aside, and did all in my power to make my guest's visit a pleasant one to him. Wo shot, drove and rode together, and the short wintry days seemed oven shorter with my light-hearted friend at my side. I took him to visit all my friends, save one ; I need scarcely say the season for that omission. Too well I knew that, had I bean a girl, Gerald Gordon was the man who might have won my heart had he chosen. Too well I knew that if tho eyes of love enchanced, thoy did not imagine your charms, end that his interest, at least, could scarcely fail to be aroused. So I dreaded to bring about a meeting betweon him and you. It camo at last. I would have shunned that gathering could I have found a decent pretext, but the whole countryside were bidden to that ball, and my absence from it would have been remarked. Besides, Gerald Gordon would have gone anyway. He was very merry as we drove over, at the expense of the imaginary persons we should meet; but I said nothing. Tho moment we entered the room I saw his eyes fall upon you. I saw his look of surprise.cf admiration as he compre hended your regal beauty at one glance, and boforo the evening was over I felt that what I dreaded was afoot, and that my friend would probably be my rival. If his attentions to you that evening were no more than man might properly pay to the most attractive woman in the assemblage, they were sufficient to make me fear the worst. Even as I write this I can soe his tall figure bonding over you, and hoar his whispering words which, spoken with the easy self -confident manners of a man of the world, I. know intuitively must have been .sweet to any young girl's ears At lust that night, gay and enjoyable to all save me, ended. You had departed, and after that it needed little persuasion on my part to draw Gerald from the scene. We started on our drive home, with the stars shining pure and clear through the frosty skies. I was sullen and unhappy; my companion brimful of curiosity to learn all I could toll him concerning his late partner. " Is Miss Howard a friend of yours ?" was his first question. " I have known her some years. Do you admire hor ? Although I noed scarcely ask,"

I added bitterly. "Admire hor! I should think so. 1 have seen gome of tho most beautiful women in the world, but never onol admired more. She was not very well dressod, of course, but that is only a milliner's business." So ho talked on and on as wo drove that Bix miles of road, and my heart sank with in ime, and I curaod the friendship which had led him to visit mo and induced mo to press him to prolong his stay. He spoke of nothing but you, ringing your praises in various koys, until I relapsed into a sort of moody silonce, or only answered his eulo gistic remarks by monosyllables. Probably ho noticed my changed manner, as on reach ing homo ho said :— " You are awfully tirod, I can see, Philip ; so I will bo morciful tonight and not keep you up for another cigar. Good night." Whether ho kept mo up or not it mattered nothing. Woary as I truly was, there was little slcop for mo that night.

Whon wo met tho next morning it was tho shame again ; your image clearly was before his oyoa. Although he spoke jest ingly of tho havoc you had wrought, J know that more than jo.*t lay under that laughing extorior ; that the improsaion you had made was no transient one. I tried to hide my feelings, and to answer his playful remarks in tho liko vein, but my efforts wore of little use. I folt that hia keon eye ibtfffStfii.Jiiprofittiin;; amiss with mo. He while. After breakfast, as w6 uwei</'\r.>si cuseing our plans for the day, he asked : — " Would it not be politeness to ride over and inquire how Miss Howard is after last night's dissipation ?" I started, and answered, "If you wish it particularly we will do so ;" and, as 1 forced tho words, my voice sounded strange and I felt that tho colour had left my cheek.

Tho manner of my assent must, I suppose, have strengthened any suspicion he already felt as to the true state of the case with me, for he crossed the roam, placed his hands on my shoulders, and with Mb bright, searching eyes looked deep into mine. "Tell me truly, Philip—truly, mind—is there anything like love between you two ?" Even then I might have told Sim, but I was too proud to say I loved without love in return. Too proud to throw myself on his mercy, as it seemed to me such a confes sion must; solmothis eyes without quailing, and answered firmly : — "There ia no love between us." " But you do love her ? " persisted Gerald. " I admire her for her great beauty; that is all." And even as I told the lie, 1 saw that he believed what he wished to believe, and I knew that my fate was sealed. " Then let us go," ho said, quietly, aa he moved his hands from my shoulders.

We rode over to your home j we saw you, and my jealous eyes detected a faint blush and look of pleasure on your face as you greeted us—a blush and a look such as my coming alone had never yet called forth.

Gertrude, it is for you, not for me, to picture the events of the next few days. Sick at heart, I pleaded indisposition and returned to my books ; ■ sacrificing polite ness, I left Gordon free to follow his own dovices. Well did I know whither his steps turned everyday, and clearly could I read in the brightened expression of his ever bright face how well the suit he was urging pros pered. So much so, that it was with a feel ing of dull despair, not surprise, I listened when one night he told me you had consented to be his wife. Loverlike he eat, hour after hour dilating upon the per fections of the prize he had won, and revel ling in his visions of future happiness. And I,who loved you as I believe no man ever yot loved woman, suffered torture on the rack of his raptures. I had to listen to your praises from the lips of one whom I had now almost brought myself to believe had robbed me of all I longed for in the world. And there was to be no delay — no respite forme. He wa3 wealthy, so what'was there to woit for? Within three months' time you were to be married. " How I bless the day I came to see you, old fellow !" he cried once, in tho effusion of hia joy. " Now you shall complete your kindness by letting me stay with you until the happy time. Of course I must go away for a bit to see about a house and that sort of thine, but I mean to be hero as much as lean." If I had followed my true impulse as ha spoke, I should have cursed him and bade him begone ; but I was forced to restrain myßelf and tell him how welcome he was to make my house his home as long as it pleased him. Yet I feltldarenot stay myself and witness his happiness. That night, as I lay in bed, casting about for an excuse plausible enough to enable me to leave my guest alone for the next month or two, I knew that in the depths of my heart I hated Gerald Gordon—l hated him as the one who had stolen my life's hope from me -I hated him for his animal spirits, his good looks, his power of pleasing and winning the affection of man, woman, or child; co different from me—l even hated him because I knew you would be happy with him, for he had all tho qualities to make a home happy—l hated him as Cai» hated Abel, and for the same reason ; had not his offering been accepted and mine rejected? And several days passed by ; each day the tortures I endured seemed greater ; each day my hatred grew more intense. In a feverish sort of way I forced myself to laugh and jest, and Gordon, with a lover's selfishness, never noticed now how unnatural my manner was, or guessed how, by this time, I detested the sound of his voice, the clear ring of his laugh, or evon his very presence. " One thing pleases me more than I can Bay," he plbcidly remarked one evening,

"It is that what I onced believed to be a fact was only a creation of my own brain. I was afraid I might be the rival of my old friend ; but Gertrude herself assures me the only feeling that ever existed between you two was one of pure friendship. So I am happier, knowing you will dance at my wedding with alight heart." Dance at his weddiag ! I would rather dance on my mother's grave '

Gertrude, my wife, there is one day in every year which is solemn and sad to both of us. A day when the choicest flowers are laid on a tomb, now growing grey with time. A day, many hours of which you spend alone, holding a lock of hair and gazing on a miniature. And yet, if the love you bore another man is strong in your heart, upon that day you have ever seemed to draw closer to me than at other timos. As your oyes, sad with unforgotten sorrow, meet mine, you think, " Our grief is from the same source—mice for love and his for friendship." And with one memory between us I know for the moment your heart grows nearer to mine, and I realise what life might have been could your love have crowned it. Read now the truth and hate me.

That day waa the first for a long time I had spent alone with Gerald Gordon. You were away on a visit to some friends at a distance, The weather was fine, though wintry, and as 1 felt I could not endure the long hours indoors, in the society of the man I hated, I suggested taking our guns and walking down to the coast in the hope of shooting some ducks. Gordon leapt at the idea. " I shall be glad to do a bit of hard walking," he said, " for three weeks 1 have only been lovemaking, and that isn't much exercise. I fancy my mußcles must be growing soft from want of using." As he spoke he held out an arm like an iron bar for me to feel.

An hour's walk brought us to the coast; you know it well. For the distance of per haps two miles runs n turf-covered, almost perpendicular cliff; then it Bhelves away gradually, and one con easily get down to the water's edge. Here was our destina tion. We intended to walk along the edge of the sea, shooting anything worth powder and shot. The tide, when high, lashes the foot of the coast cliff; when low, it leaves a strip of sand uncovered. The rock of which the cliff is composed is of crumbling, unstable chalk, and has the habit of getting hol lowed out under the surface, leaving green cushions, firm enough in appearance, but apt to braak away as the unwary foot presses them. A dangerous cljff it is, from the edge of which one shrinks instinctively.

We walked briskly along the green sward ; I was some paces in front of Gordon, not being much in the humour to listen to his inevitable rhapsodies on the one themo. Aa ho followed I could hear him singing a love song. It was Mexican, I believe, and picked up somewhere on his travels. Though the language was strange to me, the words sounded soft and musical,nnd the repetition of the passionate refrain almost maddened mo, so well did I know to whom it was directed," Suddenly, the melody of the song changed to a sharp cry of despair— a cry that wont through me like a knifa— and. as I turned hastily round, the rent at the edge of the treacherous green sward told its tale, oven before 1 heard the horrible, hopeless, dull thud on the sand below. . Believe me, when I say, at that moment all thought of hatred and envy left me. Horror-stricken, I threw myself at full length on the grass and crept to the edge of the cliff, looking for what I dreaded to see—hia mangled body. The cliff at this spot overhung even more than usual, and it was with a feeling of hope I saw that Gordon had fallen clear of the rock and lay upon tho sand. He was lying almost in a heap, and must have sustained fearful injuries; but dead he was not, for I saw him, after making a few piteous struggles, succeed in turning his face to wards me.

•' Gerald," I cried, " are you much hurt ? For God's sake try and answer me." A flint voice—the ghost of his usual voico—replied. "I hpve broken one arm and, 1 think, my thigh. Can you come down to me?"

" I cannot," I said, " without going along the coast for a mile or more. lam going now to get ropes and help. Try and bear up till I return." And then, leaving my gun to mark the spot where he fell, I turned and, swiftly as I could, commenced running across country. J. knew the part well. The nearest house was atleasttwomilosaway, sothe poor fellow must Ho in agony for Borne time before I could bringhimtheindiepensabloaid. With the remembrance of that helpless form lying on tho sand before me, my thoughts wore only how to rescue hi-n with as little loss of time as possible, and for the first five minutes I ran at the top of my speed. Sheer exhaustion then compelled me to pause and draw breath, and as I moderated my pace the awful thought for the first time came to me. The tide ! the tide ! I remembered it was rising—that it was about three quarters the edgeoT tde-«ra«,li"'ui.jmrv_nQar_to 1 could not bear him aid before the ,aea covored that narrow strip of sand, he was a dead man. And then the temptation began. Lot no man say there is no devil, for I tell you in that moment the devil was with me. He brought your form with all its beauty before me ; yes, and with love for me shining in your eyes. _He shaped the thought in my mind, " It is for' her, who might love you, you are savins hira. Is Bhe not worth the sip ?" And as the tempter prompted me, I Baid to myself, " One half-hour's delay ; a rest by the way : a fancied inability to proceed farther; a mistake—9o oasy to make-in the road, and you were free once more and might yet be mine. The price was crime—loss of honour, of self-respect, and all peace of mind; but, you might be mine, and what price was too heavy to pay for that!" And as thought after thought, each like a devil from hell, came to me, I leant against a gate, knowing as 1 did so that every nomont I lingered risked a man's life. ?he sudden temptation, the commencement of the crime, the consequences^ to follow, the shame I felt, even then bewildered me, and for a time I was besido myself. I seemed in a dream; all round me was unreal; the air seemed full of horrible forms and sounds. How long I waited motionless I cannot tell—would that I knew!—it might have been moments, minutes, or hours. At last it seemed as though I awoke, and as I turned and ran like one pursued by wolves, I fancied I heard the words, "Too late ! too late!" shrieked after me in fiendish glee. As I ran 1 believe I even ceased to think, and fell utterly exhausted at the door of the farm house to which I mechanically directed my steps. In broken sentences I told my tale— I begged the men to hurry down with the ropes—l offered large rewards should they reach the coast in time to avert what I now shuddered to think might happen. They started with all possible despatch, and as soon as my strength returned to me I followed. Gertrude,how can I pen the rest ? I reached the fatal spot just as the men from the farm lowered one of their party over the edge of the cliff, and, as sick and I leant over, I saw beneath me the cruol waves dashing a dark form against the crueller rocks, and as one of the men turned to me and said, "Poor chap! If we had been a quarter of an hour before we might have saved him," I knew that in the eye of God I was as much a murderer as the ruffian who drives his knife through the heart of his victim. Little wonder was U, as they bore hia nerveless form to the top of the cliff; as I saw that pale face, stained here and there with blood ; the blue eyes yet open, and as I almost fancied seeking my own, that I fell as one dead upon the grass, and was borne away unconscious as the man I had foully tlain. What more remains to bo said? You know the rest—how the illness that followed was attributed to the shock I had undergone and the exertions I had used to save my friend. How people praised my presence of mind in at once starting for assistance. How you—oven you —wrote kind words to me—words that cut my heart like knives. Yet no one knew that with me night and day was the face of the dead, as I saw it ere I fell senseless on the cliff; that ever in my dreams I was running, it seemed to be, from an image of you, and that fearful things were striving to Btop me. No one knew how often I went to the spot where Gordon fell, and timed, as nearly as I could, the rising waters, to ascer tain if it were possible for a man to hare compassed the distance am brought aid in time to save him. Alas ! only learnt I was a murderer in act as well as thought. I gained the prize that tempted me—but, at what a cod! When, after some years, you gave me your hand 1 knew your heart could never be mine, but lay in Gerald's grave; I knew that the thing which at last induced you to accede to my repeated request was more the love you fancied I bore him than the love you felt for me. And bo, at the price of a life's re morse, I won a woman whose love in life could never be mine, and who, after death, must hate my memory. Ah ! Gerald Gordon, slain by the waves at the bidding of your friend, just as the supreme joy of life was youra; your lot,

after all, was happier than mine! As she read the last words Gertrude Blake dropped the manuscript, and burying her face in her hands cried, ''Oh, why did he tell me? Why did he tell me ? This is the worst of all to bear. Thank God, I have no children in whose faces I may see mur der written." Then, with bitter grief and hatred in her heart, she sat on and on through the weary night. And ever before her was the image of Gerald Gordon, with the hungry waters creeping round him, his poor maimed limbs battling in vain struggles to keep his life until the delayed help arrived. And her face was stern and cold las she pictured it. If her husband's hopes of heaven rested on her forgiveness, she felt she could not bring her lips to frame the words.

She could scarcely credit the tale she had read; at times she fancied it must have been in a great part imagination. But his face, ever sad, even when others were gayeßt, came again and again to her mind, and she felt that strange sadness stamped the confes sion with truth. Yet in all else he had been so noble, both in thought and in deed. He had loved her co; and now with his dreary secret bared before her, even through the bitterness of her mind passed the knowledge that he had been leading not only a life of remorse, but also of atonement, and as she grew more calm she fell at last into a troubled sleep with wet tears upon her lashes. And, as she slept she dreamed. They stood before her, she thought: her first and only love, Gerald, and her husband, the latter, not the careworn, prematurely old man of the past years, but young, gay, and handsome as when he rode with Gerald to see her that morning in the winter. There was no sadness in his eyes now, and Gerald'B arm was round his neck:—"Sweet love," she heard him whisper, "see, I have forgiven—cannot you likewise ? and then, striving to speak, she awoke. With the dream yet lingering in her memory she rose, and, tearing the manu script to shreds, threw it upon the smoulder ing fire. When every vestige of paper was consumed she sought her room, but, as she passed the chamber of death, entered, and, bending over the pale cold, placid face, kissed it, whispering: "I forgive, as I hope tobe forgiven." . The end.

In a Russian Prison.

Had I ever dreamed I had courage Had I ever flattered myself I had strength ? My failing limbs tottered aB I obeyed the sum mons to proceed to the cells. My failing heart stood still as on my way there I heard the distant but unmistakable clank of heavy chains. ' As we proceeded through a corridor a door opened, and in a large, light, fairly clenn hall I saw upwards of a hundred women, and nearly as many children. Some were infants in arms, others were run ning about merrily, unconscious of the fate that awaited them.

The greater number of these women were prisoners, thieves, assassins, forgers, felons of every description, about to be sent to Siberia, there to work out their various sentences, yet many amongst them were the wives and mothers of convicts, who had elected to share the fate of their hus bands and sons.

It was not difficult, even in so cursory a view, to perceive the difference between these poor creatures. Squalid, miserable, poverty-stricken, as they all eeemed.though often thinner, poorer, more miserable even in appearance than the others, the voluntary exiles had not that habitual look of vice that the hardened criminalsosoon acquires. Poor unhappy wretches. More than a third of those I looked upon will probably perish ere the band arrives at its destin ation—a journey so infinitely Ion? that a year is sometimes required to accomplish it. Thousands of versts to be traversed on foot amidst all the rigours of an Arctic climate, and during the almost equally torturing heat of the short but burning northern summer.

Insufficient clothing;, insufficient food, scanty shelter, the cruel diseases that in variably attend poverty and dirt, and above all the pestilential air of the loathesome dens into which the prisoners are thrust, when from time to time it is neceßaary to halt on the weary way, rapidly thin the ranks ere many months elapse, and very few of these unhappy wretches ever return to tell the tale of suffering nnd death that belong tq,each gang of convictß. Every mpnth does Buch a gang leave the great Russian prisons, and though Russian officiaU are far from harsh, being in general considerate and even kind, as far as their painful duties will permit, and private charity is always on the watch to alleviate suffering, yet woeful indeed is the spectacle of such a mass of crime and misery. I had witnessed many such departures- * knew all the horrors of such a fate, <t? d vet with what joy would I haye Q ~?°' verena Tha descent of a steep staircase 1..„„„},(. us to a set ot underground cells, in which are confined *k~ ririsoners condemned to death. A key grated in xno u,w. n heavy door opened, and again that young gi r ] an( j I were face to face.

My eyes, unaccustomed to the dim light, looked vaguely round the gloomy space. Low mtitterings, or rather, faint moans, Irom one corner caught my ear, and then I noticed a dark bundle huddled up on a sort of wretched bed. A female warder, who was also in the cell, touched my arm, and pointed silently to this bundle. "Verona ! Merciful Heaven ! was this Verena !" My cry, barely audible, as it was, had attracted the attention of the un happy girl. With a start she sprang to her feet, and Btaggering towardsme, flung her anna round my neck, and burst into aper feet passion of tears. I pressed her to my heait. I rained kisses upon her cold, tear-itrained face, upon the little head, now ruthlessly shorn of the bright golden hair thct had once been its crowning glory. At length the agonising tors were par tially checked. Broken sobs alone shook the frame of the poor creature, Exhausted and suffering, she lay in my arniß like a little child. Was it possible that the life of euch a child could be needtd to ensure the safety of a great country ! Would not Heaven itself interpose to rescie one of its little ones ?

And, oh, my God, how she must have suffered. Beneath the wretcheJ garments that covered her emaciated form I could feel the sharp bones that projected through the bruised flesh that coverod them. Even my loving touch seemed to give her pain. Gone was the lovely, youthful complexion, sunken and faded the tender blue eyes. From Buffering or confinement, the very limbs appeared distorted or injured, and the terrified starts th»t co incessantly ehook her frame showed how eevere was the cruel tension of the nervea. What she had suffered I never asked, she never told, but of the once beautiful, bril liant girl nothing now remained but a quivering, ruined wreck. " Do not think, my Anna," at last mur mured the poor creature, laying her head restingly on my heart, and gently kissing the hand that clasped her poor form, "do not think lam afraid to die. No, no; I have long been prepared, but ," and here she pressed closer to me, and a convulsive shudder passed through her frame, " that dreadful man The rope round my neck. I do not know now to Deot *nat- My courage is going. I have prayed, but my pray3i'd are not heard, and I do not know ! how to bear, no I cannot —cannot bear She slipped from my embrace, and falling on her knees before me, clasped my hands between bor quivering and wasted fingers, and prayed like a little—little child. Powerless and heart-stricken, I could only weep and pray with her, then raising her up clasp her again in my loving end pitying arms.

Then, though with shame in my heart, I whispered a few broken words, that if she would say something, i»ive any information, howeverslight, her clear life might be spared

But ere I could well end my gasping, half articulate sentences, a change came over her.

She raised herself from my arms. She looked into my face with eyea of grief and pain. So He, betrayed now more than 1884 years ago, must have looked upon Peter.

The child-like expression passed from her face. The little tender child was merged into the womanprepared to dieina righteous cause.

" Tt ie Dot my friend who now speaks," she said in that voice still so flute like and so sweet, but that now had a ring of deter mination in ita tone that showed a hero's heart was enclosed in that trembling and emaciated form "It is not my friend, for it is one who loves this poor miserable body bo much that she wisheß to keep it yet on earth ; but do you think," she. continued, the fire of a martyr gathering in her sunken eyea and sending the colour once again into those pallid cheek a, " that because my coward nature shrinks, and I am frightened, yes, so frightened, that what

ever I may suffer, or have to suffer, wiU make me betray those who have trusted me? No, no," sho continued, though a half sob broke her voice; " suffering has never yet made me base. A little longer, a very little longer still to bear, and than peace must come. A peace beyond all tho joy this world can ever give. That peace which passes understanding." She clasped her poor,thin hands together, and raising them above her, gazed upwards in silent, rapt enthusiasm. Her lips moved, though no sound escaped them. Sho waa no longer of the earth. Her spirit had as cended to those realms of pence and joy that beatified the dark and loathsome prison. The gloriouß rays of Divine love and joy had brightened with their plowing effulgence the hideous valley of the shadow of death through which she ovon now was passing. At this moment tho key gratod in tho lock, the heavy bolts were withdrawn, and my conductor beckoned mo to withdraw.

As the door opened the poor creature re turned to earth. The Heaven-sent enthus iasm faded from her ashy face, her lips quivered, and earthly tears fell from the sunken eyes. Once again she clasped me round the neck; convulsive sobs shook her weakened frame

"To-morrow, come to-morrow, sho faltered, clinging to me, as I passionately kissed away the tears from her pallid cheeks.

"Madame can come to-morrow," kindly said the officer, " but the interview for to day has ended."

Gently, but resolutely, he took me by the arm, while the woman in attendance grasped the slender form of tho unhappy girl and dragged her from me. Ere I could turn to look again tho heavy door had closed, had been locked, and double locked, the huge bolts had been drawn, ah, me ! ah, me t to keep from life and freedom a poor child, whose unhappy destiny had led her to share in faults and follios of which she was barely conscious, but for which her young life was to pay tho price. Powerless, nerveless, hopeless, I was taken home. I had no one to help, no one, indeed, to speak to. For hours I tor tured my brain in the vain hope of averting the impending doom.—From "Beneaththe Dark Shadow," in the "English illustrated Magazine."

Conquering a Vicious Bull.

Abram Post, of Elderville, Pennsylvania, owns a blooded bull which has long been an object of terror to all employed on the farm, owing to its fierce and aggressive disposi tion. One* evening Post .had finished milk ing a cow in the barn-yard, and was return ingtothe house,when honntitodthuljthcbull which was in the yard, shook its head savagely as he passed by, and had an un usually vicious look in its eyes. Post passed on, paying no attention to the animal. He had gone only a short distance when he heard a quick step behind him find a low bellowing which he knew was made by the bull. He turned quickly and saw the animal bearing down upon him. He grasped the bull with one hand by the horns, hoping to prevent it from goring him, and the next instant he was tossed in the air. He fell on the bull's head and neck, and was tossed the second time, this time being thrown to the opposite Bide of the barn-yard fence. He was badly bruised,and his clothing was torn by the rough handling he had re ceived, but believing that if he allowed the bull to remain master of the field, its use fulness would be gone and its killing a a necessity. Post determined to assume the offensive himself and use every effort to conquer the savage animal. He is a large and muscular man, and, arming himself with a heavy club, he jumped over the ience and advanced boldly upon the bull, which was pawing the ground and bellowing furiously. The moment it saw Post in the yard it plunged at him with horns lowered. Post met the bull with a terrific blow with the club across the forehead. The heavy wood was broken to pieces, but the blow had no effect on the animal except to in crease its fury. The bull pressed upon the farmer, who jumped aside and caught it by one horn and one ear, and endeavoured to keep its head turned away. He was thrown from side to side and his hold broken. The bull caught him on his horns and once more tossed him in the air, this time throwing him over the fence into an adjoining field. The maddened animal charged against the fence, and endeavoured to knock down the barrier between it and the object of its rage. Still the farmer was undismayed, and, entering the barn, lie armed himself with a heavy, three-tiaed pitchfork and returned once more to the barn-yard. The bull rushed again to the attack. Post stood his ground and thrust the sharp tiaee of the fork into the bull's nose, supposing that the acute pain ciuboJ by the stabbing would forco tllo animal to turn back and make it more cautious, la this he was mistaken. The animal rushed on, and was forcing him against the fence, where he would have been crushed to death in a moment. To prevent this, Post threw himself forward, and, the bull's head being lowered to the ground, jumped astride the animal's neck. A few binges Dy the bull tk.« w him from that position, and he fell on the grotind close y\u Fortunately, he retained his hold on the fork. and. rising quickly to hia fnnf he.thrust the tines uJnLd 4& into thS animal s side and neck. The blood spurted from every wound made by the fX j thebuli bellowed with p,in aidfrodn, M^ to efforts to catch the farm.,, on ft Wed bufhis derpmte situation to° ner 'te to greater activity, and the beasw!?£Ji ■ all its efforts. Post continued his *» ,! n tinued the contest foi, f t" ■""' con then turned and ran toY'^l.™ m"tes > and harn-yatd, bellowing wK eot.°er s 'de of the Post 3id not move awf, - • and then went to his l°f n some time, covered with blood, almost , Bey Uo was ping with perspiration. Hf^d'drip self.rested a moment, and the VQeh? d Min earnesfc protest of his wife, gainst the the barn-yard. He found the 6* baok to ia one earner of the yard. B<f taD(Jinfi: briskly up to the animal.and it <^?^g& — approach and stood trembling "\ j 6ar . The beast was completely maeferii and walked sullenly into the barn atPojtVcO«v mand. On the farmer's return b (bohoußj he found that his own injuries wye greatei than he had supposed, and hei.now con fined to his bed under a doctor's are.

The morality of Gambling.

I was sitting in a room in the Maxwell House with General N. B. Forrest several years before his death, says an American journalist.

"General Forrest," I asked, "it has often been said that previous to the war you were a terror at the poker table. How much did you ever win on one hand?" He replied : "I have played a few heavy games and many a light one. In New Orleans on one hand I won §47,000."

" And what did you hold ?"

" Three kings and two nines '•' —— I have always regretted I didn't ask him what bis opponent held, but I did not. 1 lo told the following story, his eyes filling with tears during its recital: " When my wife and I wont to Memphis ifter the cloaeof hostilities wo had §720, not a cent, more or less. We spoilt one en tire afternoon ransacking an old portfolio, hoping to find some old uncollected account or'l. O. U., which 1 might realise. There wasn't a thing. I said to my wife : 'Hhoda, you have alway been agin me and poker; I never played a game since I first knew you that your absent face was not a haunting rebuke over one ehoulder. Now, I have been invited to Sneed's to dinner to-night, and I know there'll be cards. If you'il give me your blessing this once, my dear, I feel mighty sure I can come home a richer man.'

"Said she: 'Forrest, wo'vegot along without that, so far as I have known, and by the Lord's help we'll still go on without it.' ■•■"•v

" 'Yea, said I, 'but the Lord has boon slow of late, and seems to be git tin' slower: what d'ye say to this one time ?' She never consented, but she didn't oppose it very strong, and I promised I wouldn't go over $720. It was just as I expected. Four tables were running at Snood's, and I won enough at 50 cents ante to go in at .a higher table later on. Well, sir, us I won—and I won from the first—l just dropped the money into my hat on the. floor, and when we broke up at daylight I put my hat on with the money in it, without counting it over, and went home.. As!l came near to my house I caught a glimpse from the out side of my wife's white figure waiting right where she had waited all night, pale and anxious, and when I went in 1 just took off my hat and emptied $1,600 in iwr lap. I felt sorry for her, for she oeuldn't blesa f-\ night's doings; but, sir"-—-"ft v V great relief to me." \

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1885.

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