VELLA VERNELL OR, AN AMAZING MARRIAGE.

By lira Scmseb Haydex, „ . o£ "Littlo UOldie." "Tho Midnight ** Marriage" "Geraldine," etc.. etc.

CHAPTER XXIX

ruoM tub I)AKK RIV£KI

And softly rook, no while 1 knit "^BBs"" Ti'oi:' lick I CUcV: click!' -K.CLEAKY.

Sw'SU'>t, ecy little nest of a

VHZ>\ *«*> injia mattinß whlch in er covered the Hoor had not yet been I to Live place to tho wanner winter f3 Simple curtains of cheese-cloth ia'antiqao loco draped tho windows. et*cen tho front windows hung a brass- Li mirror, and just below stood a small ls j ng .table of homemade manufacture pletely covered with palo blue cambric 1 book muslin. On a little oaken tier of Uves bung on the wall by an azure cord ac a number of books and magazines, and I the uppermost row a few vases of . «, Tho graded wire flower-stand in f&ndow was a veritable.bank of "* * Here i»nd there stood wicker chairs T™ckerfint laced and knotted with M d rockera n gamo delicato bl?V 8w« replied in the curtains de- Bl r /fmm the encircling brass poles of rtrf the corner. In a little j; .tea tiro cracked cheerily for ftry October evening was chilly. By ""? lnw chair a girl sat. A slor.der little l!° n ?t more than eighteen, but looking ""f'davof t^entvthSo. There was no f £„ about her to command the flung Btnkin D a oDgerver . But fT^theroteoneiookedagain. Then Sntostudy her, often ending by ing"in her quiet face absolute beauty. With Aurora Leigh sho might have "I amHko, they tell me, bettor than itself." Bat on the young forehead thero was a m taimw of care. The hazel eyes Xiadeof thoughtfulness beyond her

f tat now, so abstracted had she grown, w .ork-a tiny bit of bright knitting- SLSd in her lap, hor hands lay listlessly SffbVrgaze strayed dreamily to the

filSo still! Without was the cold, dark, joaless October night; within, the dainty Cr°- f pelled A roto sounded through the chamber, low, is VoyleJ And HGeraldine Starr rose hastily and went over tothe bed in the corner. From the white pillow a face looked up ,t ter-such a lovely waxon, wistful fnco, nth great brown eyes, underlined with tek hollows, and short, crisp, golden heaven! she was conscious at lut. Out of the long sleep which had indicated the turn of the tide, she had iwakened with clear brain and coinprehon-

™»Ah you are better !" Gnmldine said rithasmile. "Now, you must take this medicine, and you will be strong and well She took up a rial from the little stand teidethe bed and poured out a spoonful. She flipped one arm under the head upon the pillow and lifted it, holding tho spoon to the bM's lips with the other. "There, now!" with soft cheenness, "lie still, like a dear child, and don't talk." "But I must!" murmured the pationt, with a little o{ her old imperious spirit. And then, as invalids will, her first ques tion was a very foolish one: ■ li What were you doing when I saw you fist!" Evidently her nurse did not understand. "Justnow. Yoa had something shining in your hinds," "Oh, my needles ! I was knitting. law you really must not talk.". But the other persisted. "What were you knitting ?"

"A sock." "Will you let me sop it?" Ah, she was wandering ngain, Geraldine told herself, but she muse be gratified, kmonred. She went back to whore she had been Bttiig, picked up tho bit of knitting, and Ktamed with it. The big brown eyss regarded it gravely a Bfflent. "For whom are you knitting it ?" Sbe spoke with difficulty. The slight Ittaipt at conversation had exhausted her. "For my little cousin. Now, try and top," soothingly. "what is his—name?" "Dick." "Dick what!" "DickLaurent, Now, if you ask me any lure questions I shall have to go away." A smile came to the sweet, childish face Wow. But she did not epeak again. A •want more, and the white lida drooped tafily. .Geraldine Starr went back to her seat by wifirs. She was glad her patient was tetter, heartily glad, not for her own sake, tat lor that of the invalid herself. The poor child, she told herself, with her pretty, motherly air of compassion, ill Wong strangers !It was very hard. Bhe did not stop to think how hard had Men that illness for herself. A less unselfish girl would have been jwtefd in the highest degree for the Wen about to be lifted. Ihe household consisted of her parents, 06 husband pf her dead cousin, and his Me hoy. The menago boasted but one Krwnt, and that one not remarkable for Wiency. Mrs Starr was a confirmed in »slid, so the brunt of domestic affairs fell MGeraldine. To keep the wheels of the wieitic machinery running smoothly was •flitielf no contemptible task. But whon ™9blad tempestuous September night— lit three weeks ago it was - there had "toe a riolent ringing at the bell, and four ,Ma entered, bearing betweon them on a «*r from the wrecked train below a bleed fß sad terribly quiet figure, her duties Ihemoat faithful, most devoted of nurses 'Mahe been during those weary days and W« of fever and delirium. But they jwtold on her somewhat. She was look "Stater and a little wearier than formerly. ;> ."Doctor Laurent thought, as he opened "•door softly and came in. Meiooked up, brightened and nodded, •sit dash of colour showing in her cheek, jje came forward and sat down near her. u m she awakened?" vS 8• * Save ncr the medicine." Wwshe conscious?" .'hardly know. Sho looked co. First ? wled! the names she has cried so ofton, "tasked me such odd questions." downing what ?" j, we work I was doing—my knitting. 'mi "d tho sock wa3 for and his name." mat i 3 not uncommon. Tho brain of a »Sf° ent is as woakand easily attracted Wi? 0^ a c' i^'t'l Their first questions (j^om ones requiring thought or i^Dick asleep?" "P i-^ c m'B3C3 y°u yet-" ( l*w little lad! It is so many evenings jr^navepnthirato sleop he ought to fatten mo." .V"*! dick, went her shining needles. CITS mn still> thia Doctor stuart i u'W. He had not yet seen thirty. Not Ctf }"• strictl V speaking, but his ally m One more t'ian many classi *t i e,ct' It; was grave and bearded «j*!? l^ brown hair>and q«iet' kindly "•"tfacfed °f * student) 6entle> serious, * wish we could have got a nurse !"— face £ Ec in which he nad scanned the hogietv 6 .<TVe- r the diminutivo bit of I'ryoa " wor' £ *183 eon to° mucn f^emiled at him. tiitT,' Do-. laui a trifle tired, of course, & wtc well-quite!" Hit D J^ n aSait> there was no sound save 1116 wine-red yarn> fei^^^^'wUlbe happier than length ""s-that was terrible!" shg Baid at "fefLwrent started. &h\-i'" n 3?" "Vran hOr eyes to his !n wonder. SstoW ? aPP°se sho will bo anxious to w°°Bhtetr i» M6oon as she is strong

'.' That is true. I had forgotten." '•What an awful nieht was that of the wreck !" said Geraldino, with a shudder. "Such a storm ! Such a collision I"

Doctor Laurent roused himself to reply. " Had you been on the seme you would have said so. Yon had not to seek your duty. It came to you."

Sho nodded and picked up a stitch she had dropped.

"I shall remember it always," his eyes reading it again in the liro, " though it is a picture to be forgotten—remembered for its magnilicence, forgotten for its horror, Thoso over-lapping cars — tho prostrato engines—the shrieks of tho imprisoned, the moans of tho dying, tho fow and efficient lights the wind which extinguished these, the driving rain, tho pitch-darkness—" lie threw out his hand with an expressive gesture. It was hard to put tho terror of such a sceno in words. " You found her first, did you not ?" "Sho was ono of tho first extricated. I knew sho needed rest and nursing more than cither surgical or medical skill, sol had her brought up hero. Just how terrible the shock had been I did not then know." .Miss StuT laid down the small sock and rose hastily. " t»he is awake again." Sho went over to the bod and bent abovo it. The doctor followed her. Thcro was a low murmur. "What, dear?" ho hoard Oeraldine'a soft vmpo question, " I cannot hear," " Have 1 been sick?" "Very." " Whi-ro am I ?" " With friends." Tho brown eyes roamed about tho room, and bick to the couplo at tho'bedside. " Voyle !'' she pleaded. " You shall sco him by and by"— gently. Doctor Laurent laid his ringers on her wrist. The pulsation waa weak, but regular. fcjrte glanced up at him. " What is—who are you 2" ".Doctor Laurent." " Dick's father?" Ho started, with a glance of inquiry to Geraldine. "Ye?." "And Marc?" " You must not talk," he urged. Sho tried to spring from the bed, and fe'.l back, panting. "I want him ! Why doesn't he come?" her sweeot, clear voice rising excitedly " Marc! Marc !"

Suddenly she broko in a quivering cry of pain. "Yes, I know! I remember I In tho depot—and hs went by—passed me. Marc I and you think—you doubt me, Maro— Mare!"

Her terrified wail ended in a passionate burst of tears, the weak, unrestrained tears of illness. She buried hor faco in the pillow, and lay so, sobbing—sobbing.

CHAPTER XXX,

THB BEGINNING OF THE END.

" Though the mills of God grind alowly, yet Thoy grind exceedingly small." —Frikdkicii vox Loqav. "To see me!" exclaimed ilisa Vernell, bustling out of the culinary regions, whither she had gone with a few forgotten directions. " And on Sunday morning, too I Who is it!"

"She wouldn't give me hsr name," answered Roberts, with an injured air. " I asked her to, twice. I told her I didn't believe you'd see her unloss she did." Miss Dorothy ruffled up like an angry little hen, and fixed her faded eyes on him with a glance that quite scorched him. " You did ? That was very kind of you. Pray when were you given tho right to ' be lieve' anything for me? Show her right into the morning-room." And she straightway ascended the stairs. It was still very early, but tho bird—or sorvant—who wa9 up before Miss Dorothy, was indeed worthy to catch tho choicest of worms, or wages. Jame3 rose late usually, particularly on Sundays. To-day, as Miss Vernell mado her way to the morning-room, she told herself that the house was like a tomb, without the children—a great, gaunt, splendid tomb. A dark, quiet figure, sitting in ono of the leathern chairs, rose as sho entered.

Miss Dorothy bowed stiffly. " Don't you remember me, Miss Dorothy!"

Misa Vorncll took her gold ■ rimmed spectacles, adjusted them on her unadapt able noso, cmuo a step nearer and looked searehingly into tho woman's face. " Why, bless my soul!" she exclaimed : " If it isn't Gulla Desarte I"

Tho woman smiled with a cortain sad bitterness. Sho had not thought that was her uiinio now till the revelation of last ni^ht had forced it back upon her. "Yes, it is 1, Miss Dorothy. You find mo much changed." For in the kind old face thore waa a shocked surprise. " It is only five years since I last saw you, and you look fifteen older !" sho answered, bluntly. "Sit down." "I do not doubt it. I lookod five years younger yesterday, though, than I do to day." Miss Vernell regarded her in puzzled Whori (Mia Desarto had been a child—so small a one sho had to stand on a box to wash the dishes—Miss Vernell, in charity of heart, had taken her from the deathbed of her pauper mother to her own comfort able home, and brought her up. Whon eho was about thirteen, a good chance had turned up for her. A lady going to Europe had offered to take her with her to mind her two littlo children, and she had gone. For several years Miss Vernell did not see her. . _ One day she had come to visit us. Her old mistress through financial reverses bad been obliged to discharge bor servants. But she had got another place. She was going with a family to San Francisco. The position was tho same as that formerly occupied by her, involving the care of children. From that day to this she had not seen Endeavouring mentally to gather her circumstances from her dress, she scanned hor from head to foot. Her garments in dicated cleanliness, thrift, poverty. The simple groy suit made by her own doft fingers, the grey thread gloves, the little silvory hat with the scarlet blossoms. "Are you married?" she asked, eud "up'to the roots of tho girl's dark hair surged a crimson tide. Her head drooped. " / don't know!" Miss Dorothy brought out from her mea're store one of her mild little oaths reserved for such startling occasions as the present. . "Great patience!" And then. "Are you daft?" ~ The girl lifted her hoad with a sudden resolution. , _ "No, I am not daft, Miss Dorothy, but I am very wretched. You were very good to me when I was a homeless littlo wretch. Will you be kinder to me now in hearing "' Bless the child, of course I will !" de clared Miss Dorothy. And as Bhe sat very erect indeed m her domure grosgrain gown, with a wide collar and cuffs of daintiest Mechlin, an antique gold brooch clasping tho former, in her ears old-fashioned rings of gold, on her head a little snowy marvel of a cap, below which blue eyes twinkled and rosy cheeks bloomed, she made the dearest, cosiest, most loveable little old confidante that heart could desire. But the blue eyes filled, and tho rosy cheeks paled before the stranger's tale was dono. And more than once the former sparkled angrily, and the latter carmined with indignation. And when tlio sad story was all told she rose and paced tho morning-room, every crack- HnK fold of her stiff silk gown protesting against man's inhumanity to woman. As Guila Grimes had said, she looked five years younger yesterday than to-day. The Sight had told on htr terribly. Her cheeks were absolutely colourless. The black rinm about her eyes spoke pathetically of sorrow's vigil. Kow, though that she had told her first friend her grief she felt re lieved. Sne had concealed nothing-sho "mS Venief/'came back down the room, and stood before her. " What is it you want me to do ? 1 did Jrfth this Mrs Charu She lives in a fine flat on Michigan Avenue. I have discovered that much Give me a letter to her-a strong letter that SPn''so tha y t she will surely take me-any thinfr' Will you—will you ? "Are you sure you are not acting rashly ? What is your motive?" Guila made a gesture of despair. " I must be near her-don t you see that ? J« will be there often-vinting her Oh yes,: he will! He spends most of his time fately with her. I want to them to gether-to sco how the land hes-ishe rares for him. If so, I want to warn, I want——'!

She checked herself with a visible effort. She could not say that she wanted more than anything—everything— revenge. Did she utter such an unchristian word Miss Dorothy would repulse her in horror. No, she must not speak it. She must conceal her real purpose, gain the letter—and her end.

" But how would your plan bo feasible ?" queried simple Aunt Dolly. "If he wore to go to the house often you might meet: he could hardly avoid running across you sooner or Inter." Ouila gavo a hard laugh. " Oh, as to that, I would be unrecognis able !" "You moan " " Yea, I mean that I would attiro myself so as to deceive a aharpor man than Dennis Grimes." At mention of his narao Miss Dorothy's honest rage broko out afresh. "The smooth-tongued scoundrel. And to think that he cornea here so often, that ho and I have sat down at the one table. When ho comoa next I " But the girl broke in entreatingly: "No, you won't ! You promised not to, Miss Dorothy. It would ruin all my plans if ha know I had blabbed. Nor your brother oither, you will not toll him?" "I suppose I won't J" reluctantly assented the irate little lady, " but it does aeem a sin not to. Oh, that Heaven would ' put v whip in every honest hand to lash the rascal naked through the world!' an Pope says." And for onco her alleged authorship was not contradicted. "And you will givo me the letter, a strong, pressing one, soon, now?" But still Miss Dorothy hesitated. " It seems underhand somehow —like set ting a spy upon her actions." "No, no!" Uuila broko in quickly, "The spying is upon him. To do such has not my misery given me the right? And at the worst what can I do ? No harm to her. But I can save her from him." "Yes," Miss Dorothy assented, absently. Into what a tangle of mysteries t-ho waa penetrating ! Soon the growth of it would suilocate her. Already the air was growing denso with plots of secrecy. First Voylo, then Yella, then Voyle again, and now a new and distinct scheme—if the dear Lord would only give her a strong axe to how them all away ! Sho looked up with an other protest against tho plan suggested, but as she saw the drawn, tearless anguish in the faco so earnestly regarding her, tho words tied on her lips. " I will write it. Wait hero I" she said, and she rose and loft the room. In about ten minutes sho returned, in her hand an open sheet. She handed it to Guila. " Kead it!" Sho so. It was strong, pressing. She had heard that Mrs Churn required a lady's maid. She could recommend tho bearer as in every way compatont. Per sonally sho could assure Mrs Oharu of her high character and ability. If she gave to tho applicant, who at present needed tho position, a place in her houso, she, Mies Vernell, would consideV it an act of kind ness to herself. And sho was, very sin cerely, Dorotiiy Cauolike Vkrnkll. "Thank you !" quietly, but there waa a groat depth of gratitude in tho short words. " By what namo will you present your eelf ?" questioned Miss Dorothy. " I could not mention it in the note. I had omitted o ask you." " I have not decided that myself yet. I shall tell you when noxt I see you. Good bye, and Heaven bless !" Then she waa gone, a sombre shape, out into the brightening glow of the bleesed Sabbath morning. And Miss Dorothy, gazing after her, never dreamed of that to which her letter had flung wide the gates.

And, Heaven bo thanked, she did not I

CHAPTER XXXI.

ENLISTED. " Here I have a book at last, Sure I thought to make you woop, But n careless Klanco you enst O'er its pages half asleep." —Owen* Mkkkdith.

" I cannot see her! Say I cannot see her!"

And Mrs Charu resumed her chocolate and paper. " But sho said she was sure you would receive her," persisted tho servant, "If I were to toll you she came from Miss Vernell."

i'rom Jibs Vernell— from the sister of her h'anoee ! Could ho have told her so soon ? Might it not be a message of con gratulation ? No, sho cortainly could not refuse to receive the woman now. Such an act would savourof positive discourtesy. " Show her up," she said._ The servant bowed and withdrew.

Such a delightful, luxurious room was the bedchamber wherein tho widow sat, with its thick crimson Wilton carpet, its huge oheval glasses, its lace-canopi^d bed, it? deep, soft rugs, its hangings of _ warm hued plush, its few big, coaxing chairs. Seated in one of the latter, a tiny tablo at hor elbow, the morning's paper in her lap, her black hair unbound, her white neglige lying in long, graceful folds far out on tho crimson carpet, Mra Charu looked positively handsome and almost young.

Tho clay before Grimes had called in fulfilment of his intention to do so. But his visit was ill-timed. When the bell rang, Colonel Ternell was drawing pictures which would have dono honour to Claude Melnotte.

A glance through tho bay-window showed tho widow the new-comer. Sho had gone hastily into tho hall and intercepted tho servant.

"Say to Mr Grimes that I cannot pos sibly sco him now," ohe eommandod, " but will bo happy to do bo at this hour on Tuesday." And with this promise he had gulped down his disappointment. She had managed it all very cleverly, Mrs Charu told herself, with a smile, rery cleverly. But just as quickly hor face clouded. She wished sho were but woalthy—or he. Then she need not push him to tho wall te give the place, his by right, to another for whom shd did not care a straw. It was a crooked world, she told herself, with a sigh ; and even though satirical Hood cried out against " Gold, gold, gold !" one couldn't live without it. Some natures couldn't. She was frank to confess she couldn't.

Hor reverie was interrupted by the open ing of the door. Sho turned round to scan her visitor. A woman, apparently past middle age, slsw of movement and bent of figure. She was attired in a long, black cloak, which covered her from neck to ankle, and woro a black straw bonnet of the Btyle known as "scoop." Her skin was very dark ; perhaps it should be called rather a ruddy brown. Her grey hair was banded down on her cheeks after the fashion in vogue thirty years ago. Through the spectacles she wore one could not divino the colour of her eyes. "You como from Miss Vernoll? Sit down." " Yes," in a low voice, with a certain hesitant stammer. "lam an old servant of Mies Vernell's. Her words will plead for me better than I could hope to do for myself." Mrs Cham took the extended envelope, withdrew the sheet enclosed, opened it, and read Miss Dorothy's eager linos. She held tho neatly-lined sheet long after it had been perused. " Miss Vernell has been misinformed, sho said at last. " I had not contemplated procuring a maid. Sou are hardly young enough to " " Oh, I am!" the woman broke in, eagerly. "I am younger than I look. Sorrow has aged me. And I am brisker with my duties than many a younger person. Miss Dorothy says lam com petent enough. Does she not, ma'am? Juet give me a trial. If Ido not suit dis charge me." This was fair enough. There was some sense in hor remarks. To her legitimate work an elderly woman would more prob ably devote herself than a giddy girl could be expected to. Sho would need her servicesintheweeks to follow. A trousseau, even a widow's, required thought and effort. Yes, she would need her. Besides, to refuse to tike her, might be to offend Miss Vernell, with whom she desired to remain on friendly terms. So it ended by Mrs Charu considering ing her visitor a godsend rather than an intruder. "Yes, I will take you !" she answered, rising. "You are goins; back to Miss Vernell ? Wait a moment and take a note to her from me."

She went into the next room to write it.

The bell rang. A moment later the servant entered the adjoining room and spoke to Mrs Charu, " Show him into the parlour," ordered the latter, as she entered the chamber where her new maid waited. "By tho way," as sho gave her the note, " I am not yet aware of your name V '< Dolores Jackeon."

" Dolores Jackson 1" Mrs Charu repeated with keen gusto. " How deliciously in oongruous I But it won't do. It would sound nice and odd in a book, but Dolores —no, no, it won't do !It signifies sorrow— sorrowful. No, it won't do at all! I don't like to have around me aught which sug gests sadness. 1 shall call you—lot me sco!" musingly: "what shall I call you? Something the exact opposite. Hilaria! That expresses cheorfulness, merriment, Hilaria it shall be."

" As you wish," the maid answored. " Anil now about wages?" And that point being settled, Mrs Charu told her to come to hor that evening pro pared to remain, and thon dismissed her. As sho went down tho stairs she passed Colonel Vernell asconding.

At the curb-stone tho Vernell coupe shone in the sunlight, and tho Vernell bays pranced as such aristocratic horses should. An hour later Roberta prosonted himself to Miss Dorothy. " A person to see you, miss !" "Eh?" Miss Vernell looked up sharply from tho butcher's pass-book. " A lady or gentleman V" "A porsoii of tho female porsuaaion, miss, but I should scarcely say a lady," de clared Roberts, cautiously and con scientiously. " iho woman who was horo yosterday ?" " Oh, no, miss !" " Well, I will bo down in a fow minutos. Whore is she ?" "In the study." " Very well." When, in about ton minutes, she oponod tho door of the summer study and weut in, she saw awaiting hor a middle aged woman, grey-hairod, brown-skinned, blue-spectacled, bonneted, and cloaked. " You wishod to see mo 1" sho asked, ad vancing. "Yes,'1 in a voico foreign to her hearer, slow, hesitant. " I bring you a letter from Mrs Charu." And sho handed her the square mono grammed envelope. " What is your narao ?" questioned Miss Vernell, producing her glasses. " Hilaria Jackson." But as she read tho first fow lines of hor note sho stopped with a little cry. " Sho has 'takon tho bearer into eervico!' Can ii be pos—-—— " Hilaria Jackson roso and broke out in Guila Crimea's bitter, weary laugh.

"It is possiblo. Now do not doubt that I shall deceive him as I have deceived you."

Miss Verncl! sat down gasping. "Tho Lord savo us I" in devout and iooblo consternation.

CHAPTER XXXII.

"I CAN WAIT,"

"Whon a strong woman rooklossly throws away hor strougth, sho ia worßO thun a woak woman who never hud any strength to throw away. . . . Weakness 1b doubly weukness by being now.' Thomas Hardy. Tuesday. Such a crisp, bright, sparkling day t>fi it was ! The clear, cold sky was blue as a turquoise. In tho night there had been frost, a pure, white frost, which had whitoned tho sidewalks, and tracod dolicate lace work on the window-pauos, and jewelled overy tree on tho boulevards. On State-atreet light attire was discarded. Frequently during September had it been cast off, only to be resurrected^from trunks and closets and again donned. But such a day as this protested against its revival.

Everywhere were gowns of woollen and velvet, deop fur capes, bright-breasted littlo bonnets and plumago toques. Mrs Charu spent tho morning with hor maid in review ing last winter's WArdrobo.;

When Grimes called today she would be ready to go out, sho told herself, ready dressed. Then he could not detain her long. That would bo boat for both of them. Sho knew just what he had to say —eyes and voico had told her that many a time. But sho must not lot him say it. No. A econo might bo tho outcome. Thiß each would bo tho more comfortable for hav ing avoided. She would see him as she hnd promised, but just for a few minutos. By her manner sho would make him under stand how more than useless would bo per sistence. But—how different was ho from old Vernell! what a difforont air—spirit

No, no ! sho must not think of that—of him —in that light, any more. Novor

again. Kho sat on a fautouil in tho midst of her disombowellcd trunks, her hands claspod behind her head, her eyes looking into vacancy, her thoughts intent upon every thing save that which hor hands had bogun. Threo times her maid epoko to hor beforo h'io heard—answered.

" What dress '! Oh, that wino volvet ono will do. And the bonnet to match. And my silver-fox capo—yes." " Groy or garnet glovos, madam ?" " Grey—eight-button. Thoro, that will do. lam going to drees now. You may put thoso away at your leisure Opon the window. Tliis smell of camphor is over poworing." Sho was drossed bofore Donnis primes —boforo tho hour spocifiod fov his call. She stood in tho big bay-window, and saw him as ho camo up tho street. He was young. In that what an immense advantage had ho ovor Vornell. What wero thoso words of tho Passionate Pilgrim ?

" Youth, youth, I do adoro thoe: Oh, my lovo, my lovo la young I"

Tho boll rang. Sho could hoar tho foot man admitting him, could hoar him ascend ing tho stairs. Tho door oponod. Ho ontorcd. Sho turnod and advancod to moot him. As sho did so ho told himself with tho infatuation of a lover that if there lived in Chicago a handsomer woman ho had yot to boholcl hor.

To tho unbiassed and impartial, such a statement is rank hyperbole. She did not look well just now. There was no denying that. The dress of ruby velvet fitted tho tall, full figuro perfectly. Tho " tipped" bonnet to match mado a rich framo for the dark face. On a chair lay hor silvory cape. Sho waa drawing on ono groy glove. But despite his acknowledgment of hor beauty, Dennis Grimes knit his brows in a dark frown as ho saw hor dressed for walk ing. "You are going out? " Not now, of course," with a smile. " I am obliged to attend to a pressing duty this afternoon, but I have always time for the kind vjsit of a friend." Sho took a chair as sho spoke, and in dicated one for him.

110 flung his hat and cane on the sofa, and sat down.

" For a friend ?" he repeated slowly, as he unbuttoned a glove. Ah !ho would not take the hint. He would not bo warnod.

" Yes," steadily. "We are friends, are wo not?"

Something was wroug. He told himself that he had felt it in his bones the moment ho saw that she was dressed for walking. She had intended to avoid an interview with him. Was it not possible that in that bit of strategy the previous Saturday night at the Exposition building ho had over reached himself ?

He did not answer her calm query. She grew a littlo nervous as she waited and watched him. In what a savage manner ho was pulling off his gloves ! Was he going to mako a scone, after all? She must break the silence. Even a clever woman will blunder sometimes. She did so now. Hor words goaded him—opened a way *or him. " How very ungallant ef you !" pouting and laughing, " You should joyfully as sent. Will you not accopt the title ?" Ho sprang up, and flung down his glove like a challenge. " No!" his blonde face flaming furiously. " I swear I won't!" Wore not friends—we nevor can be friends! You know that, Letitia. We are lovers. Friends !" scorn fully. "Keep your milk-and-water friend ships for your milk-and-water people. Not for me. I'll have none of them !"

He soemed to tower upward in his fierce indignation. For the moment, steel-nerved woman though she was, she quailed before him.

Sho, too, had risen, and stood facing him. Would she toll him—now ? Sooner or later she must. And yet it was hard. She had won her engagement by a trick. Wore the wealth and position for which she had schemed worth the cost ?

She was a clever woman, subtle, world worn, experienced, but, as she looked at the man before her, she loved. For the first time, too. The consciousness of it thrilled her. Ah, sneer not, sweet sixteen ! All the passion the world holds burns not in your young bosom, "I am not—free !"

The words were a mere whisper. Truly is love a transformer. Just then ehe would have given a year of her life to say it in her old loud way, with her old ringing laugh, even to lift her bold eyes to his face. "Not free?" he echoed, hoarseley. "You must be free—you must! Burst your fetters. Come to me ! I love you, Letitia, and you love me. I dare you to deny it I"

He came a step nearer, his eyes fairly lurid.

So absorbed were both, neither noticed that the door of tho adjoining room was ajar. Neither dreamed that just without it was bont a listening head, an eager, brown skinned fuce, and senses strained to miss no word.

" I dare you to deny it!" In tho silence which followed the words rang and re-rang in her cars. No, she did not deny it. She could not. She shrank back a little. Those pale, blazing eyes seemed to read her very soul. She was that most pitiful of all things—a strong spirit shorn < f strength. "I am to marry —Colonel Vernell!" she faltered.

" Yernell ! I thought it was he. Letitia, listen to mo !" He grasped in his both hor hands, and held thorn so with agrip.of iron. "Think of him — look at mo ! i am young enough, passionate enough to profess lovo without blasphemy. He is old, grizzle bearded, methodical, suspicious — what woman could find him loveablo 1" The door-bell rang. Mrs Cham, who stood nearest the window, glanced out. Just as she feared. Thoro was tho glittering Vornoll harness, the shining Vornell carriage, tho aleuk Vernoll horses, tho smart Vernoll coach man. "Let me go! It is the colonel! He will bo up in a moment !" vainly endeavour ing to wrench free her imprisoned hands, into which tho jewelled rings were cutting cruelly. " Release me, i say —Dennis !" Tiioy could hear tho visitor ascending tho polished wooden staircase. " Quick—Dennis!" "On ono condition. Tell mo whether or not you lovo mo." Sho lookod up at him crimson-cheeked, panting. But her eyes spoke truth. " I lovo you I" she said, " 'Ihen. I van wail!" But she did not dream of the hideous import of tho .words. Haw could she read in his brain tho black scheme which had there sprung up full statured in timt second ? Ho bent and kissed her— once, twice—and released hor hands. He was taking up his hat, cane, and glove from the sofa, when tho door openod and Colonel Vernell entered.

(To be Continued.)

MLLE. BARBE.

A CAMUAiiK and pair, with servants in green livorios, the whole concern somewhat frayod and worn in its magnificonce, drove in ono sumnior af tornoon to tho old town of Saint-Joan-Bur-Loir. Tho dark narrow streota wero full of life; tho Place beforo tho Cathedral was crowded with stalls, carts, umbrollas, and pooplo. On the Catho dral steps two stout citizens in white waist-

coats wero standing, each of thorn umbrella in hand, talking over with some excitement the- latest nows from Paria—the possibility of war ; for this wag market-day in tho ftrtr week of July, 1870.

There wero four people in the carriage ; a palo littlo lady in black, with an elderly AbbiS beside her, who talked to her uncess ingly, and two young men smartly dressed, as if for a visit of ceremony. One of the.se eeora plunged in gloom. Though hand some, ho was not nearly such a pleasant ob ject as his brother, who smiled a great deal, and sometimes mado a joke in a low voice. Porhaps his jokes had malice in thorn, which naturally mado thorn unpalatable to the gloomy one. For instance, as they drove through tho markot place, tho livoly brother drew attention to thoso two worthios on tho Cathodral steps.

"Look, Charles, quick—thero is your fathorin-law I"

M. Charles frowned severely. "Hush, I believo it is I" ho said, in a tono of horror.

" There he iH. He us ;ho is coming," tho AbbiS was paying at the same moment to tho lady boside him, "Come, come, Charles, M. Duval is till excellent man."

Tho Abbe showed v littlo irritation. Mudamo de Mesnil throw a glance at her pon, in which anger and amusement and pity wore oddly mixed Together.

"Do you we, Charloa?" sho said. " Thore is M. Duval."

"I,sue M. Duval, mother," replied tho molancholy Charles.

Tho carriage stopped, and M. Duval came up to it, his red fiico beaming, his shiny hut llouri^hod away from his shiny bald bond. Thoro was groat bowing and introducing and complimenting. It was tho Abbu's business to fuso theso discordant olomont.«, theso fnmilicß of noble and bourgeois, which wore about to ally themselves for mutual benefit. Tho Abbi<, from his posi tion, undorstood both sides, loved both, was angry wif,h both. Ho in tho depths of hi? hoart was ready to punch M. Duvul for his vulgar, boastful satisfaction, as well as Charles for his glum and haughty indifl'er once.

After some talk, in the eyes of all tho ad miring market, tho two young men got out of tho carriago, and M. Duval was obliged to obey Madame do Mesnil by getting in. Tho Abbe gave him his placo. It was a tine ovent for tho fat litt-lo citizen to dash through his native Htroots by tho sido of n Counters. This was tho reward of a good Catholic, » Legitimist, so long solitary among all the Republican and Imperialist townsfolk. Thuy would not givo him any public oilicu at Saint- Joan-sur-Loir. What did that mat tor, wlion the oldest family in tho province Htrotehed out a hand to him, and choso his only daughter, tho heiress of his hard earned millions, to be tho wife of its head 1 This waa tho doing of that good Abbe who had boon confidentially employed by Ma dame do Mosnil to tind a wife for hor son. M. Duval was ho much oxcitod that ho dici not oven know which of tho two joung men was his future son-in-law. Charles, who was Comto do Moenil to tho onds of his hair, and Louis, quite contented with his younger position, would have boon equally surprisod at this confusion in tho brain of M. Duval.

The young men meekly followed thoir mother's carriage through tho strcots, nnd out into tho suburb of St. Martin, whore all tho rich and fashionable peoplo livod. Charlos mado no attempt to encapo from his fate, though he had several chances of doing so. For they crossed the river, they passod tho railway station whoro wero cabs in abundance, a train for Paris was just starting. The young count, however, seemed to feel nothing but a stern resigna tion. He had even arranged his future lifo according to necessity. " This,poor domoisolle will find Mesnil a desperately dull place, after all the distrac tions of her town," remarked Louis, as thoy passed eomo public gardens whero a band was playing opera music. " There will be money," said Charles. grimly. " She can live where sho pleases," and I too—l shall live whore 1 please."

"She may prefer Mcanil after all." 111 hopo not, I hopo eho will prefer Trou villo or Biurritz, with Paris in the intervals. The gayer she is the better I shall be pleased. The less I see of her the happier I shall be. A person who wishes to live with us at the chateau— a person brought up by M. Duval, do you see?—would be past en durance."

" M. Duval is a good Catholic, a steady old fellow. I fear she may be respectable," said Louis.

"No, no. In that case I shall refuse to marry her," said the Comte de Mesnil. Louis only smiled, for he was_used to his brother.

He was sorry for him too, though ho laughed at his oddities. This poor Charles was one of tho quietest and most studi ous young men in Franco. When not buried among his books, he was to be found straying alone among the shady alloys of the Park, or in tho woods that clothed the hills about the chateau. He generally car ried a gun, but never shot anything. In the evening he would brighton up, and entertain his mother with all sorts of odd fancies. He was perfectly happy, and wanted no change. But this sort of life could not go on for ever. The family was very poor ; the chateau was falling to ruin. Charles must marry, and he must marry an heiress to retrieve their fallen fortunes. Ho was obedient, but miserable, and his dream now was that marriage should make no alteration in his habits ; that his wife and he should be quite independent of each other, amusing themselves in their own way, and only meeting now and then. Thus a quiet, domestic woman, who would not care to live away from the Chateau de Mesnil, was a possibility dreaded by Charles. A young bourgeoise, to be enter tained and considered, with the right to fol low him even into his library ! "How was such a horror to be borne ?

They soon came to M. Duval's house, standing back from the road in a pmart English garden, with rows of geraniums and groups of tails elegant shrubs. In the drawing-room they found everybody assembled, sitting in a circb of armchairs with foot-stools before them, and here and there a. plant with great red leaves reflected in the shining floor, The two younp men

took their places in the back-ground behind their mother's chair. She, tho Abb(s, and M. and Madamo Duval were quite equal to keeping up the talk, which flowed in a spark ling stream. Charles and Louis had noth ing to do but to use their eyes, which they did without scruple, not a grimace of poor Madame Duval's escaping them. She was a dark, thin woman, with a long noso and eager eyes. Most likely in ordinary life, she was a sensible woman ; in fact, people said that M. Duval's success was greatly owing to her prudent management. But just now her head was a little turned, like her husband's. Sho was full of airs and compliments, and made odd jumps and bounces now and then, as if she would have darted across to kiss Madame de MesiuTs hand ; but that Hltle lady's cool, business like manner seemed to discourago any such outburst.

Behind her parents, a curious contrast, sat Mademoiscllo Batbe Duval, a tall, round, soft-looking girl, with pale complex ion and lavj/o brown eyes, and a quantity of fair hair frizzed over cushions. Apparently she thought tho occasion serious. She sat motionless, very grave, without ft gleam of life or fun anywhere about; her. Once she lifted her eyes and stolo a look at Charles across tho circle, Unfortunately, she mot hit eyes quite full, taxed intently upon her, on which she dropped hers, and gazed at the buck of her mother's chair.

This visit had been arranged on purpose that tlio young people might meet and make acquaintance with each otlior, all tho open iiii.' negotiations having been carried on be tween their parents with the holp of the Abhi'. Tho consent of tho two most inter ested was now tha only thing wanting, and that was a matter of form. M. do Mesnil could not well draw back now that he had allowed himself to be ollered, and the only feeling possible to Mademoisello Duval was thankfulness for her good fortune. Her parents might just as well have married her to some worthy man in their own class, who would certainly havo providod himself with a much longer purse than Monsieur de Mas nil's before ho presumed to ask for M. Duval's daughter. It was charmingly romantic of tho Duvals to acorn such low alliances, and to choose such a son-in-law as Charles — noble, handsome, melancholy, poor. A perfect hero, thought Barbe in her enthusiasm. Charles's eulky look only mndo her cay to herself: "Ho is sad. Ah, what a joy to make him happy I" For IJarbe, like a sonsible, honest girl, sot a very fair value on horsclf; and in her comfortable homo, with all its luxuries, con scious too of satisfaction from ita many looking-glasses, did not at all feel as if she was being lifted from tho dust to a throne. Of course, tho futuro coronet, tho Chateau de Mesnil in tho distance, added glory and solomnity to these arrangements ; but Barbo was not so much impressed by theso things as hor father and mother, whoso aminblo antics wore a slight trouble to hor at this momont. She bvod them truly, but she wished thoy were a little moro dignified, However, Madamo do Mesnil sat thoro smiling agreeably ; tho Abbii, thnfc satirical person, looked placid and satisfied. All soemod to be going well, only Barbo wished that this, hour of trial was ovor.

By-andby, aho hardly knew how, sho found heraolf with Charles in tho garden. They wero walking slowly along an alley of lime trees, commanded by ono of tho draw ing-room windows. Charles carried his hat in"his hand, Barbo was also bareheaded. For some moments they had nothing to say to each other. Charley knowing what was beforo him, had prepared speeches for several varieties of littlo bourgeoise, but nono of them would suit Madernoisollo Duvnl ; sho was too sorcno, too natural, too grave Charles was not sure that sho was not too handsome and too charming. Theso doubts woro no comfort to him, how ever : they upset all his arrangements. A woman liko this would interfere with him terribly. Sho would nover bo packed off to nmußO herself at a wutoring-place.or bun dled into some corner at homo. What was to bo done with her ? Cliarle3 felt savage, and bit the top of his enno. " What do you think about tho war, monsieur?" said Barbo, in a calm, sweet voiro. "Do you wish for it ?" " Yes, mrviemoi=cllo, with all my heart. Wo aro sure to beat tho Prussians ; besides, nno 0:111 volunteer, and hsivo tho chance of dying in a satisfactory way." Charles enoko with a sort of dosperato Criinnca. It did not appoar to strike Bnrbo (.hat ho ought, under presentcirnum M-anccfl, to have wished for life, not death. "Ah, ye."," she said. "Of course war must bo terrible, but it is grand too ; and the mu.«ic gives one such a glorious fooling. I have often wished to bo a soldior. How ever, thore is ono thing a poor girl can do for our heroes." " No doubt you pray for thorn, madomoi so'lo," said Charloj, rathor moro politoly. " If this war comes, and I voluntoor—" " Praying is no doubt a beautiful thing," said Barbo" "but as long as ono is in the worid, ono must work too; for instance, thore arc tho hospitals. I lovo boyond everything elmo to nurse tho sick. I havo loarnt in'our hospital hero at Saint .lean. Tho dear Sisters havo taught mo ovory ihintr they know, and wo aro hoping that if tho war comes »omo wounded men will bo sent hero. When wo aro nursing them wo shall foci as if wo are lighting for Franco." "You, mademoiselle, with thoso hands !" ronontcd Charles, who could hardly believe

his cars. ' "Thosehands?" rcpeatod Rarbe, holding them up. "Why not? They aro strong, and I have been taught to u?o them." " Indcod, mademoiselle! Thon you prefertho corporal works of mercy." "I am not worthy of tho spiritual, said IWbo gravely. "I do not see how ono could livo without doing good to somebody. Is it. not our duty, monsiour, to love ovory body?" . „ " So thoy say, mademoiselle. " And" how can we poor women show our love except by working with our hands ?' Charlos smiled a little. It was becoming absurd to hoar this rich young girl talk as if sho was a poor seamstress. Ho perceived that sho was an onthusiastic, ti'to-oxaltrco person, with vague ideas of goneral fra-or nity, and doing good to all mankind. bo was interested in spite of himself, never having heard a girl talk in this strain be foro, ani, after a moment's thought ho wont on drawing hor out with a condescension that surprisod himself. It was not dithcult to draw hor out. All hor own people know that sho was silont and talkative by hts. Now, after the long silence in tho saloon, sho chattered with a will, and with a some what provincial interest in horown concerns, told Charles all about hor daily life, hor oc cupations, hor opinions. No embarrassment clouded hor sweet faco and open manner. Sho seomod to have forgotten the position, tho object and meaning of this interview. Charlos, with a certain gentle chivalry, took care not to romind hor of it; yet one cannot gay that he enjoyed all he heard. Mademoi soile Duval seemed to him to bo possessed with a vory madness of charity. Her senti ments were so primitively Christian as to bo almost communistic. Sho was ready, indeed, to confess, when Charles hinted thoquestion, that sho thought a republic the justestand most beautiful form of government. Charles received this horriblo confession very quietly. Afterward Barbe repented of her candor with tears, but at tho time she had no idea of giving offence. She thought, in fact, that this grave young mai: sympathised with her, and presently asked him inno cently whethor ho often visited the pe"s-

" Who? I? Never !" said Charleß shiver

" Do not you like them ? "I detest them." " Ah ! Then what do you do all day ?" "I read." " From morning till night?' " yes. I read." "Is it possible ? But what good does that do ?" said this strango young person. "Good! I don't know. Yes, it doos a groat deal of good to myself. A man's first duty is to himself." "Is it? Ah, you do not really moan that," said Barbo, with a smile and a sigh. " Excuse me, mademoiselle ; I moan it most entirely. It was not by my own choico that I came into this world full of miseries, and I quite doclino to occupy my self with them. Our viows on this subject are opposite" " If you mean what you say "I am speaking as truly as you spoke just now." Barbo was going to plunge into a further argument, when something suddenly re minded her that she and Charles were sup posed to be making up their minds to marry each other. This reminder was tho appear ance, at the other end of the alley, of Ma dame do Mesnil, tho Abbe, Louis and her father and mother. She caught herself up, hesitated, blushed scarlet, and walked in silence beside her companion to meet all these people Sho did not look particularly happy, and as for Charles, his gravity wae unchanged. Madame do Mesnil looked at them rather anxiously, but only said, with her sweetest smile, that she feared it was time to go ; there was a long drive between them. As soon P.S the form-il fr.rewells were over and tho p-irty had driven away, M. and Madame Duval both pounced upon their daughter.

" Hey, little one, how do you like him ? can he smila, or in he too much afraid of wrinkling that handtome face of his?" " Ah, you may joke, papa," says Madamo Duval, "but he is a most majestic young man. After all there is nothing like birth. And madame, his mother, is charming. Never mind your old father, my^ little chicken. Do you liko him —tell me t" _ _ "He smiled once, " said Barbe, smiling herself thoughtfully. She looked at her father and mother with eyes that answered their question quite sufficiently, Then she strolled out again alone into the alley o£ limes. That night, her mother, going into her rooms a3 usual, found the child crying, not passionatoly, but softly and sfowly. When Madame Duval insisted tenderly on knowing tho cause of thesetears,Barbe whispered into her oar a confidence :

"Mamma, I liko him ; but I don't know that he likes me. "

" Ha, ha, ha ! " Madame Duval's peals of laughter made tho room ring. "Put such fancies away, and go to eleop, my little one. M. do Mesnil is a young man of very good sense—the thing is all arranged. No doubt of Ma admiring my beautiful child. I only think she is too good for him. " Under this consolation, Barbe presently fell.asleop, with.tears on her face.

Poor Mademoiscllo Barbe ! She had after all, as the old nurses say, something to cry for.

At Mesnil, late that evening, the Cotn tesae was sitting at her tapestry-work, en tertaining tho Abbe, who was staying in the house, when Charles and his brother came in from the smoking-room. Charles looked eager and excited, Louis very grave, but with en air of something between alarm and amusement. His brother had been talking to him for tho last hour, and now began, with more ceremony and milder language, to talk in the same strain to the elders.

" I am sorry to vex you," he said to hia mother ; " but is there no way of escaping from this marriage ?" "My dear son ! Impossible !" cried Madame de Mesnil, while the Abbe" made an angry exclamation, " What can you mean? "Were you disappointed in Made moiselle Duval? Now, I was agreeably surprised. I assure you, she will look well when she is properly dressed." "I havo no fault to find with her looks ; she is handsome," said Charles. " But I cannot marry hor. I know—l feel it. <, My mother, you have not talked to her as I have. Her ideas are monstrous. She loves nothing so much as dressing wounds, I tremble when I think of her."

'•Sho is a very good, charitable young girl," said tho Abbe. "Very well, monsieur, I believo you. I did not say she was wicked. But her opinions [are those of the Jaco fins. She prefors a republic. She talks of hospitals and eick-beds, and all the horrors in the world. Sho thinks such subjects agreeable. What is to be done with a pereon so terri bly brought up?" " Did sho talk like that to you, my poor child? Not vory clever, certainly," said Madame do Mesnil. " At tho same time Charles is bound in honour," eaid the Abbe\ "He must not be fanciful. She will make Mm a very good wife. Her lovo of the poor and the eiek is a fault on the right sido. She is enthusias tic, to be sure." "My mother," said Charle3, "she dis gusts me." " But what is to be done?" said Madame de Mesnil in consternation. "We cannot draw back now." " Listen to me a moment," said Charles. " Hero is Louis; ho and I have an idea. Put him in my place. Let him marry Mademoiselle Duval. He admires her face, and is more philosophic than I am. He says her talk will mako no difference to him. Do you see? I will gladly promise never to marry. I never should have thought of it, except to please my relations. I will continue to live here, and may find this lady quite charming as my sister. She certainly has an attraction of her own. But I could not marry her." " Whut do you say, Louis ?" said Madame do Mesnil.

" I am roady to oblige my brother." Tho discussion went on till midnight, for tho Abbij highly disapproved of this chango of plan. Not that it was supposed likely to mako any difference to the Duvals—for them one Do Mesnil must be as good as another ; but it seemed to reflect badly on his credit as a match-maker. He was very angry with Charles, whoso good sense and dutifulnoss ho had trusted too far.

But Madame de Mesnil, who always had tho charactor of spoiling her sons, was not much inclined to tak-o part against them. In her own mind sho had thought Louis, with his open cheerfulness, more fitted for family lifo than tho misanthropic Charlos ; and now that Charles really wished to offaco himself for his brother, she could not make any very strong objection. Early tho noxt morning sho composed with groat care a letter to M. Duval, in which sho felt obliged to praise Louis far boyond his brother, and te point out that the prosont offer meant a life of perfect happiness for the charming Mademoiselle Barlie. She also announced that her son Louis would bo actual head of the family, as Charles had decided to give up tho idea of marriage altogether. In excuse of his his conduct, she could only say that he had boen peculiar and changeable from his birth. Tho lettor wont, and for two days the chateau was in suspense. Then came M. Duval's answer. In the most flourishing language ho assured Madame de Mesnil that ho folt honoured and delighted at the idea of giving his daughter to any member of her family; that her praises of M. Louis wero not needed, for his appearance was enough ; and so forth. For himself he saw not the slightest difficulty in the suggested change, but ho was grieved boyond measure to say that his daughter opposed herself. She too, liko M. le Comte, seemed to have suddenly set her face against marriage, and was deaf to all the arguments of himself and hor mother. Madame de Mesnil would understand that in such a peculiar case thoy did net feel justified in commanding obodionee. Thus, with real grief, the good citizen was obliged to see his lofty vision fado. There was to be no alliance between tho houses of De Mesnil and Duval. "Well, doar monsiour," said the Com tesse to the Abbe, " this attempt has failed, you soo. Wo must try again. It would be bost, you know, if we could find a girl who would please Charles." " 1 have no patience with Charles ; ho has lost his senses," said the Abbd. " Beauty, riches, intelligence, goodness, he has thrown away all these with Barbe Duval. He is a madman. We shall never find such a com bination again." " Perhaps we could do without the two last without tho third, I mean," said Madame de Mesnil, hastily correcting her self.

But while they talked and plotted, every thing was being settled for them by greater powers. War was declared, and in a few weeks more Charles and Louis were off to the front to fight for France as volunteers.

In six months what lerrible changes Play turned to earnest, joy driven away by sorrow; would joy ever take its old place a"am? Hardly, one would think, in the Chateau de Mesnil, where those two lads had spent their happy boyhood. By this time it had been twice or three times occu pied by the Germans, who had cut down the trees, hacked the rooms to pieces, and sent the furniture away in waggon-loads to Germany. No one was there. After her sons joined the army, Madame de Mesnil had gone to Paris to her mother, the old Marquise de Belfort, and there they were now, shut up in the besieged city, Buffering all its privations with tho cheerful courage of Frenchwomen. They could laugh still, though France was conquered, and Louis was a prisoner in Germany, and news from Charles hardly ever reached them. They shivered and starved, and comforted each other and their friends by making fun of their besiegers, though with plenty of grief and revenge in their hearts. In the last days of December, the Germans were within a few miles of Saint-Jean-sur Loir, but had net yet occupied the town, which was surrounded b> a strong cordon of General Chanzy's troops. There was a continual skirmishing going on, and after each encounter waggons of wounded men would rumble over the frozen roads into the town, through the gazing streets, slowly up the hill to the great hospital, where their sad freight was delivered into the hands of the Dames Augustines. Their old convent was now the Hotel Dieu, and their lives were devoted to nursing the sick. Dressed in white flannel, with black veils, they glided up and down the great chill corridors. Always, however crowded the wards might be, two of them kept up continual prayer in the church close by. T'le Hotel Dieu waa an immense building with many staircases and galleries, with win lows down each side, all entirely paved with white stone. Facing each other through these galleries were the rows o£

away. This was all very fine, but M. and Madame Duval, benevolent as they were, did not quite enter into Sister Madeleine's r.tmantic arrangement. The next day Barbe did not appear at the hospital. She stayed at home, and was scolded for her want of self-respect. In two or three days, however, she appeared again. Her father and mother, having nearly broken their hearts by their severity, gave in humbly, and let her do as she pleased. After all, the young man was hardly sensible, and it was New Year's Day.on which, from her infancy, Barbe had always had whatever she chose to ask for. Charles de Mesnil was not dead. On the contrary, he was slowly struggling back to life, through the dark ways of pain and weakness. It was no good or comfort to him to be able to think again, to realise where he was, and remember the hopeless fighting, the mismanaged armies, the sad campaign in the snow. For many hours he did not care to rouse himself to think. When h!s wounds were dressed, he kept his eyes obstinately shut, pretending not to see or feel anything. When Sister Madeleine spoke to him, he only answered by » half angry groan. She went away ; but he was conscious that somebody was sitting beside him. and by-and-by he muttered in a hoarse whisper: " Is Paris taken ?" " No, monsieur, not yet," answered a soft clear voice. Charles did not look up to see who waß near him; but the voice seemed to bring back something long ago—something that had happened in a former life, before the long fighting began. There were other questions tormenting him, but he forgot them in puzzling and wondering about that voice. From weakness, or pride, or shame, or fear, or some stronger reason, he would not look up or speak again. But the next time his nurse came to disturb him he for got all about these things, and opened his eyes to look round. No one was there, ex cept tie good women with their white flannel sleeves. Charles thought he had been dreaming, and felt a cold chill of dis appointment ; yet he hardly knew whom he had expected to see. Early in the morning, waking from a restless sleep, tired of his dreams and of his pain, and impatient of his helplessness, he vet know that his brain was stronger and clearer, and felt quite sure that he would not die. What was there to live for? Charles indulged himself in a long melan choly sigh- At the same moment Barbe Duval came up and stood beside him, looking down with eyes full of generous pity. Her hands were loosely folded in front of her, and there was a faint colour in her face, which was very grave and dignified. The colour deep ened a3 Charles stored with his hollow dark eyes. Then he said something which she had to bend to hear, and which brought quite ft crimson blush. " Take off your cap, if you please ! How could one refuse a poor wounded soldier! Barbe slowly lifted her strong, shapely hands to her capstrings, untied them, and uncovered her smooth fair hair, no longer frizzed or padded, '' Your hair is not the same," said Charles. She stood bareheaded, and smiling sweetly. " I have altered it for my cap," she said. Charles said no more, but lay gazing at her. Just as this silent interview was be coming awkward, at least for Mademoiselle Duval, the surgeon came up with one of the Sisters. Barbe hastily flung on her cap, and darted away down the corridor.

Charles did not see her again for some hours, and during that time he thought about her a great deal. At last, iv the evening, he was aware that she was near him, but not alone ; Sister Madeleine was with her. He quietly'submitted to have his pillows shaken, and then, looking up in to the sister's kind face, he said : "Have I offended Mademoiselle Duval again ? Will she not speak to me ?" " You know best, sir," said Sister Made leine, " whether you deserve any civility from Mademoiselle Duval." "I do not," said Charles, meekly._ " But she is a good Christian.and will forgive me." The eister smiled and went away. Barbe Duval came and sat down beside him. It was a little like their first interview in the garden, ior neither of them knew what to pay. Charlie was too ill to talk much, but this time he was the more com posed of the two. He was too weak, in fact, to show or feel much excitement. ' "You are happy now, mademoiselle," he said. "You have your wish ; the wounded men are come. lam a much nicer object, lying here, than walking about with whole limbs. Do you not think so? You like objects of charity." "You are much grander, that is true, said Barbo, looking away that he might not see the tears caused by his bitter little speech. " It is a beautiful state of things, truly," Charles went on. "Everything in ruins. Have you heard that my poor old home is dismantled, and all the furniture gone to Germany ? My brother is a prisoner, and so is my mother, shut up in Paris. Do you pity us all ?" . "No," said Barbe; "it is all given to France, and she repays you in glory." " Glory ! vVhen it is all nothing but de feat ; disgrace—" "No, never disgrace." " Well, mademoiselle, will you do me a favour ? W ill you write to my mother, and tell her how lam done for ? Then let the General have it, and he will send it the next opportunity." "Certainly," said Barbe. She went away for a minute, and came back with some paper and ink. On the way Sister Madeleine stopped her, and looked into her face ; its usual calmness was a little ruffled.

"I am trusting thee, my child," said Sister Madeleine.

"I know," said Barbe, smiling faintly. " I am going to write to bis mother." She came back to her place, and was tried by several minutes of eilence. Charles was composing his letter, but he was doing it with his eyes fixed upon her bo intently, with such a Btrange expression in their hollow depths, that Bhe felt herself turn fed and white as she sat looking at the

little iron bedsteads with white pillowe and blank page before her At last he suddeny red coverings, now all occupied by the began to dictate, and she to «"£.*«"« wounded. In summer sick people were her firm fingers trembled for onco in a most} happy enough in these great airy places, troublesome *ay. wm ,n<M witEi glimpses of blue sky and green waving "My very dear Mother: lam °nnd™' trees through the many windows ; but now, and in the Hotel Dieu at Saint-Jeai. .• l when the windows were coated with ice. Hrst I thought I was dying, but i»yl« and the trees were grey and leafless, and no been saved by the presence of Mademoisouo number of burning logs would warm the Duval." . n ~ chill air, their teeth would almostchatter as '-Monsieur, I cannot write tins, -a.a they Uyin bed. There seemed to be no Barbe, with a quick reproachful glance. , warmth, not even under the piles of rugs " You are disobliging, maderaou^u. and blankets sent by all the kind women of Pray go on. Excuse mo that 1 ca"D^ Saint-Jean epeakfaster: 'My mother, there is nothuig Yet the Hotel Diou was a real Heaven to like a hopeless and miserablecampaign to poor wounded soldiers, who had been lying show a man his faults and to bring him to m= out for hours, stiff and sore, on the hard senses. lam not too proud cow to conie.-s ground, under the iron freezing sky. There the baseness of my behaviour in the amura they gradually woko from a stupor of misery you know of. I daro not hope tho- ii aue to find themselves tended by soft, gentle moiselleUuval'sexcellentparentswillfov-ne hands, and watched over by kind faces. The my sins; but the first thing I shaii do, roughost of them became tamo and manage when lam able to walk again, will oe xo able under the roof of these good women, throw myself at that angel s feet, and aw- And because in these days there wero not her pardon. I think she is noble enough tv enough of the nursing Sisters to do every- give it; and then perhaps-you understand thins, other women were there, in white -if she is not my wife, Ido not care to caps and aprons, who had left their own live.'" hou«es in the town to do this work of mercy. Of course, none of this was written down 0* afternoon Sister Madeleine, the M g^SSJ. £S of the ward, was going: her round s fol lowed U»fl«B a and had by a young girl from the tojn, »ho »m n flfa {ottamtAjt gtQO d by special friend of her*. AnnatarJ r &Q that tho worda reached " And this ono who is unconscious—ho is this," sho said ; and then, with a sweat an officer," murmured Sister Madeleine to g rav jt yi B he turned to him. " Please say her companion. The doctor knows his somot hing I can writo-not all that." name, but I forget it; yot I think he came ~j have no thing else to say, and my from this country. I must aak again, and mo ther could not have better news," let his family know, for he will die." Charle» answered. " But if you will not "From this country!" said the girl ma ke her happy—what am Ito think ?" making a step forward. >< jj 0 no t b e excited," said Barbe, a littlo The tired faca that lay thrown back on f ri ght en ed by his manner. " I think you the pillow was so worn nnd changed that have been say j n g w j, a t you cannot mean— his mother would hardly have known it. you won 't mean it when you are well. I "Ah, ma saeur, why will ho die? ex^ have not changed. You did not like me in claimed tho girl, catching her breath ahu thQ <* umme r—l knew it." looking wildly around. _ f'lwasafool. I did not know my otvh " iily child, do you know him ?" _ _ miod. I have been bitterly eorry since, I " Yea, indeed ! It iB M. de Mesnil. His cßn aggure you. Yes, of course, I am ex mother is in Paris ;he cannot go home. o ; te( j i j Bhal ] have a f ever directly if you Shall he not be carried to our house? kee _ me ; n s horrible Buspenpe." Sister Madeleine was one of Barbe Dv- He ha( j ra ; se( i his voice, and Sister Made val's few dear friends, and knew the whole ]cmc ca t c hing the last words, came quickly story. She had a very warm heart, full of to inter f ere . sympathy with all girls' trottbles, and with r l( Bar jj ej w hat is this ? rhat are you Barbe's in particular. t doing ?" "No, my child. His only chance isto be " y'aten, listen, madamo; you arc a wit quite undisturbed. Come, little one, said ness » gaid Charles, thrusting out a long, tho good Sister, with a twinkle of fun, th ; n han j_ <, y ivß me your harid) aagel— " here will bo a triumph of nursing if you tit fa mine/ . can bring him through. There, I make r « Quclh brtise! I cannot allow this sort him over to you.^ You aro responsible. of thi ' mons i euri " en id Sister Madeleine, Barbe saw no ]oke, if there was any. She t . hard not to Bmile _ took a chair and sat down at the foot ot the ■'„ f t ig all ma dame," said Charles, bed. with polite impatience. " Our parents ar " Shall I watch, via sxur, to see When he ranged it in t^e , ummer ; this is only a littlo moves?" confirmation. Thank you, mademoiselle," "Certainly. The very thing, said Barbe quiet iy j aid her ha nd in his. smiling Sister Madeleine as she moved .i^ow I«wear, by all thehonourthatislcfti

in mo, to marry no one but you, And you— you can forgive, and say the same ?" Sister Madeleine turned away. She was too much moved, as well as too discreet, to stand looking on while these two gs.ve each other their promise. And as to Charles's fever, ahe had an idea that real, right happi ness never killed anyone yet. So Barbe was left to double Charles' re morse by the confession that Ehe had loved him all along. A strange admission for a French girl, but fine souls like Barbe are of no special country. There were still her father and mother to be pacified. That evening, after saying good-night, she stood between them, hold ing a hand of each, and looking from one smiling face to the other. "Papa, mamma," she said," I have had. no New Year's gift, for myself. Yes, I know we gave the money to the hospital, but I want something for myself, after all." " And my child shall have it, if it breaks the bank," said M. Duval. ; The mother looked up anxiously. Per haps she had some idea of what was comioa. "I want your forgiveness and your love for Charles de Mesnil." "My poor child! The family is com pletely ruined," sighed M. Duval, after a moment's silence, during which the mother drew her child's face down and kissed her tenderly." '' What is that to me ?" said Barbe. "It is a good deal to me, little one,, in times like these." "'.there, papa, do not be disagreable," said Madame Duval. " This may bo tho best New Year's gift that Barbe has ever had. May it be so ! We must pray." '' Blen ! It is certainly the dearest, "said M. Duval, with resignation. That happy marriage took place long ago, but a certain grey old Abbe, justly proud of his genius as a match-maker, is never tired of telling the story of it.—"London Society."

NORWEGIAN HONESTY.

The Faith Reposed In the Integrity of"

Guests at Public Inns.

In the house where I am now writing there stands in the dining-room, and accessible at all times of day, an open case of cigars and cigarettes, postage stamps, and stationery. On the sideboard are bottles of Seltzer water and wines. When the bills are made out the guests report how many they have used. On a steamer trip a friend went to the purser's office to pay for his ticket. Being suddenly called out, the pursers unconcernedly left the gentleman alone in the office with piles of loose money lying about him on the desk. At another place I overheard the proprietor of ahotelsoying to a party that they need not change their plans for want of ready money, for ho would very willingly lend thorn some with out socurity until they should arrivo at Christiana. At the same place, arriving and leaving again in the night, I wished to havo a telegram sent for me the next day. My telegram and money were laid on tho centre table over night. Other bits of money were also upon the table, probably the other errands. j ~

In Norway the doors of rooms havo for the most part no locks. Wo have found in some place3:locks, but the keys could' be used only from the outsiSV In most private cottages the house key is only used from the outside, in case tho people aro all absent for several weeks; but to lock a door and remain inside is to them foolishness. In Bergen.at the public concerts and enter tainments, the outer garments and appur tenances are laid aside in an outer room, as otherwheres in Europe; but there is no checking system in Bergen, not even any one in attendance that I could find. After an entertainment we attended, the men. went to a corner of umbrellas and canes, and each took his own. It must have been so, and must usually be so; otherwise such a system, or lack of system, would not exist. I took my hat, coat, and cano, and crept out feeling as if I had stolen something, nnd longing to tell somebody officiary that they were really mine.

Yesterday, a guide whom wo hired to row us across a lake was not needed farther, since the way to the glacier was easy to find; but having my little amateur camera and stand with me, and not feeling inclined to climb with them, I asked him what I should pay him to carry them up to tha elacier with us. He openly replied that he would as lief go up with them for me as to wait for us be^w. This is only equalled by the guide of the previous day, who reasoned with us and explained how much cheaper it would be to hire him without his horse, and showing that he could make it just as convenient for us. Enough ez amples, though in my note-book arc al ready a lot more. Arrange, them in a, proper climax to suit, for in degree of strangeness they strike people differently. It sounds like the good old times of Kin" Alfred, doesn't it?— Christiana " Zion"s Herald,"

l*HEi AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 188 C,

3



CAUTION.



Some unscrupulous firms arc trying to forca on the New Zealand people a Nostrum, -under the cloak that it is mado in the United States, WHICH IS NOT TRUE. Under this pretence they are trying to deceive the Public and Incautious Purchasers into the belief that they are the Gomiino AMERICAN HOP BITTERS. We wish to warn all honest and unsuspecting people against this Deception, and to call the attention onco more to the facts. that the Genuine American Co.'s HOP BITTERS Arc put up in Square, Panelled, Amber-cokmrr 4 Bottles, with White Label on one side, prin' \ in Black Letters, and Green Hop Cluster; on the other aide, Yellow Label, with Dirt' * 7 in Red Letters, in English and Germr mca A tho name of "Dr. Souln" blown j 1!)< M 3 Bottle. a PiPrjc This is the ony form in which ■ AMERICAN HOP BITTERS arc f^PWS" 0K? «Pj