Audrey's Recompense.

B Y MRS GEORGIE SiIELDON,

Author of" Brownie's Triumph. the Pop siiten Bride, "Stella Rosevclt," "The Lily of Mordaunt," etc.

CHAPTER IV

"AM I MISLEADtN'G HER?"

ffHF.S Arthur Halstoad arrived at his home he fonnil visitors there —a wholo honseful of friends, who had coino to sponda few weeks before tho family returned to Albany, where thsy usually spont their winters.

It whs the last of October—thoy always iem nined in tho country untill tho cold [airly drovo them back to tho city—and evorything in nature was clothed in its most gorgeous attiro ; tho weather was delightful, everybody in tho gayost possible mood, and Arthur rocoived tho most en thusiastic wolcomo from his family and friends. The visitors consitftod of Mra Hulstoad's sisleri with hor thrco daughters and young wn) aud a formor intimate friend of Mr Hulßtendi Sr,, with his wifo, two sous and a lovely daughter.

Augustine Montroso and Richard Hal stead Imd grown up sido by eido. Thoy had goto to school togothor. stayed togother year aftor year, and iinally entered and passed through collego togother. They had always loved each othor like brothers, through of lato years, businoss taking Mr Montrvss to a distant portion of the country, they met very rarely. How, howevor, ho had como at a special invitation from his early friend to mako a "good, old'fa3hionod visit." Ida Montross bin only daughter, was a lovely, dark-haired, croamy-comploxioned girl of nineteen. She had great, lustrous, almond-shaped oyes, tho features of a Greek goddess, a mouth that was a scarlet line of beauty, its dreamy smile haunting one with its wondrous sweetness. Every motion of her perfect form was one of graco and elegnnoe, whilo thero was a quiot roposo of of manner about hor which impressed one with a feeling of superiority and culture, She was tho • idol of the family—tho goddess before whose shrine they worshiped —the sun and center of their lives. When sho was presented to Arthur thero

were two in the room who watchod with eager oyos to see how thoy would meet MrKichardHalsteadandAgustineMontrose "Sho is beautiful," Arthur said tohimsolf, though adding, with lovorlike enthusiasm, " but sho will not compare with Audrey." What Miss Montroeo thought of him it was hurt! ut fhut moment to determine.

She bout one lingering look upon him, gave him hor haud with languid grace, and then turned to speak to her mother, who was sitting noar. Several woekß of gayoty and pleasure followed, and Arthur found that much was eipected of him, a* tho son of tho hest, in tha matters of entortaining the company and acting as escort upon all occasions; while he was not loug_ in discovering that it jeemed to be tacitly understood that Miss Jlontroao was to bo his special care and companion upon every exenrsion. He longed to have a private talk with his father, and confido to him the fact of bis having formed an attachment for Andrey Waldemur, and that it was his intention to marry hor at no distant day ; but it seemed he could find no opportunity to do so, though two or threo times ho was almost on the point of confossion, for ho folt that he must occupy no false position in tho eyes of their guosts, bnt something occured to pro vent him, and tho story of his lovo and wooing remained untold.

So day after clay wont by, and ho was the almost companion of beautiful Ida Mont rose; and soon ho began to notice the significant glances which wore exchanged by different member?, of that gay household when thoy wero togothor, while ho was particularly annoyed by tho sly winks and smiles which passed between his fathor and Mr Montrose.

" Can it bo possible that they all think I have fallen in love with tho fair girl 1" he a,»ked himself, with a startled heart. "Do ny attentions to her savour of that ap pearance, and am I misleading her in the p.ime way V

fie began to bo very much afraid of it 83 he marked tho shy drooping of her lids whenever he addressed her, and the deli cate flush which came and went in her creamy choeka whon her eyes chanced to meet his.

It woulld never do to let this go on, he told himself, and ho felt exceedingly un comfortable over it. Audrey, his beauti ial love, held possession of his hoart, and ao one could ever win him from his allegiance to her.

He attempted to transfer his attentions from Ida to one of his cousins ; but he was balked in this endeavour by tho eons of Mt Montroae, who appeared to bo more than satisfied with the way matters had arranged themselves, and promptly mani fested their disapproval Jof any encroach ment upon thoir privileges; whilo tho young ladies themselves did not encourage hisl purpose. So he was forced to drift with the current, for there was no other ewort for Misß Montroso, and he could not reasonably refuse to act as such ; courtesy teemed to demand it of him, and so he resigned himself to tho inevitable He vrm- thrown into a perfect fever of ex citement by overhearing, one day, a conver sation between a couple of men who were wonking about the place •' Whist, John," said one, " but they say the young master ia going to marry the dsughter of that rich old chap from the West." "Itlook»likeit, forsure, Bob," responded the man addressed oa John. "A fine thiner, I'm thinking, it will be tor him, too." " Hew so ?" "Sure, haven't ye heard ? They say she hsve a fortune, a big pile, in her own right, left her by an old aunt that's dead and gone, and the old master is that pleased over the match, it's hard to contain him «elf,"

■ "Well, lack comes to some, and to some It doesn't; but according to my thinking, the leddy heraolf is going to get no moan prize."

"Truo for you—there's no finer chap above ground than Master Arthur; Heaven bless him."

Thr young man waited to hear no more, bit Btole away, hot with indignation, and Mmcrafi a feeling of guilt. n'lvnixl put a stop to this at once," he laid, greatly distressed ; '' people must not be allowed to entertain such false ideaß, snd I will take measures to undeceive them without delay." That very evening some one proposed that they make up a party, and take a snort trip to Florida, before separating to fjo to their several homes.

The idea was eagerly seized upon, dia tossed at some length, and finally adopted, Md it was arranged that they should Btart the day but one following. . The party was to comprise Mrs Copeland, Mra Halstead's sister, ahd her two eldest nwghtars, Mr Montrose and family, Mr and lira HaUtead, and Arthur. Bat Arthur resolved not to go. It would be just the opportunity he wished for, to escape from the web which Memed to bo closing about him, and be at once intimated that it would not be con-

venient for him to accompany the party. L A general clamour was instan'ly raised about his ears. Everybody protested that he would spoil everything if he remained at homo, his 'ather and mother insisted that he mnstgo, ana finally, co much having been said, he reluctantly gave in, and consented to make one of the company. . Hereeolvod, however, to have a talk with wfather before starting ; tell him every «"ng, apd insist that his position b • made «nown, in a quiet way, to his friends, and «ws avoid all mistakes in the future "Stthoro was no opportunity. Every day was full of hurry and bustlo, and 'we was no time for any private conversa '•on with anyone. Y>* party started at the time appointed, ■Mi after a most delightful trip, arrived in St. Angustine just at sunset one lovely day, ™v took rooms at one of the principal jotola for a month's sojourn in that ancient town, ' n jAnd thon there began another round of Pleasure. Of course there was the usual to bo done, drivea to take, and "Onreions to make, and it all happened juat « Arthur feared ; it fell to his lot to be the *TOtanion of Ida Montro?e wherever they

,■ I cannot help it," he Faid to himself, .Mm as t'uo as steel to Audrey ; I can ov«r be compelled to make Ice to Miss fan ' and * may ns well submit praco- I Jin th'B uncomfortable state of affaire. iv}n treat her as well ac I em/jn 9

Mjndl, ~,, „„ , el l|ihg< n toy hbaSb^V? t0 visit a dutiful jko a number of miles from the oltv a Some were to drive, others to ride. The morning was charming ; everybody •xporienoed tno most delightful antS oUxhikr Art uhUr him«°lf £elt *«™ In ,'T the horfles wer° brought " V° J lO door' and Ida- m«e beautiful than he had over seen hor before, involun tanly turned to him and put out her per mountfn t0 h' m f°r a9Bißtano« in Sho wore a habit of very dark brown closed to tho throat with roso pearl buttons or polished_ linen collar simply fastened witha beautifully carved pin of blood-red coial, which gavo a charming dash of colour to the creamy face above. Her hat was of brown felt, just theshado of her dress, with an c ogant feather of doad-whito coiled about it and drooping gracefully at tho

She made a perfect picture, mounted upon her sinning chestnut steed, a tremulous smile upon her scarlet lips, a tendor, half conscious light in her wonderful oyes, as aho bent slightly forward to receive hor whip trom Arthur Halstead's hand. A thrill of pain shot through his'hearfc as no looked upon her, and then caught eight {"his own and her father standing upon a ba.cony above, watching them ; and a hot Hush mounted to his brow as he saw them turn to oach other, Bpeak a few words, and then clasp hands, as if alieady they were congratulating thomselvos upon tho speody oonsutnination of their hopes. "Audrey, Audrey!" his soul cried out, yearningly, aa if somehow ho felt her slip ping away from him, " I am true to you—l shall come for you -I shall never swervo a hau-'a breadth from my allegiance to you." The rido to tho lake was delightful, tlio road winding now through fairy glades, now over picturesque hills, or by tho margin of sonio silvor stream, while a continual foast of beauty was spread out before the eye. Nofor had thoro boen a gayer, happier, or moro buoyant party, all young, and with hfo spreading out couleur de rose boforo them, while, na they alighted by tho margin of the beautiful shoot of wator where thoy were to spend the day, not o»o dreamed of the sad drama which would there ba begun, to result in long years of bondago and sorrow to one at least, of thoir number.

Thoy wore to take boats for a sail, and to visit a large island and somo ruins, which tradition said, had once been a Spanish castle, and which' attracted romance-loving visitors in largo numbers every year. Thoro were two boats awaiting them, and theso were managed by experienced boatmen, who during the pleasant months gleaned a plenteous harvest in this way, and acting as guides to partios. Theso boats were quickly filled by the ploasuroseekors, and when Arthur Hal stoad and his companion, who had been a little behind the others, owing to ono of tho horses getting a stono in his shoe, arrived on the spot, they found that there was not an inch of room to spare in either. "What are we going to do?" ho askod of ono of the boatmon, his tone betraying something of tho annoyance which he felt. The man looked at them meditatively a moment.

" Can you row ?" ho aakod.

" Like an old sailor, ;he young man.

," prompty responded

" Well, then, I'vo gat a little boat down yonder," pointing to a tiny craft which was rocking upon tho water not far from them. " I call hor the Fuiry Queen, and cho's just big enough for tho two of ye. You can tnko this Koy, go and got her, and como on aftor us. And," ho added, with a shrewd, smilo and ft twinkle of amusomont in his eye, as ho stopped into his boat, " mo thinks ye needn't fret ovormuch at being left behind with a bonny lass like that for compar.y."

A shout o(. laughter went up from both boats at this sally, whilo some of tho gay company began to banter thorn, and affirm that there might have been more method in thoir seeming misfortune than had at first appeared.

Arthur gavo °no glanco at his companion's faoo. It was like the after-glow of suneet upon snow Then he turned away and Btrodo toward tho littlo boat, more disturbed and angry than ho would have carod to have shown, while tho other boats pushed away from tho shore with their raorry freight.

Arthur found the Fairy Queon a dainty littlo craft worthy of hor name, and having assisted Miss Montrose to ontor, ho grasped the oars, and with swift, unerring strokos, botrayint* the practiced oarsman, ho sped lightly ovor the water and soon overtook his companions.

Arriving at tho island, everybody was soon ashore, and it was the work of only a moment to pass the chain of the little boat around a post of the landing, turn the key in tho padlock attached to it, and thus fasten it securely, as Arthur thought, and then ho followed his companions up the hill toward tho ruins, which wore at s orao distanco, and where they wore to lunch.

But he had not fastened the boat securely —he had not turned tho lock at all, and as the Fairy Queen danced lightly upon tho waves the padlock worked itself loo^e—tho chain gradually slippod until it freed itself from the staple and then, like a mischievous sprite sho floated stealthily away, until far down the island a gust of wind swept hor into a littlo vine-covored cove, where she nestled cozily beneath the cool shadows, and lay hko a fairy asleep and wholly un conscious of tho harm that she was thus bringiug upon two innocent peoplo. For an hour tho party wandered about, exploring the ruins, gathering vines, and grasses, and flowers, and thon they had their lunch ; a bounteous repast prepared by skilful hands, and fit for royalty it self.

After this they lounged about for awhile, chatting in groups, or nisting preparatory to another ramblo. During lunch, Ida had descried, hanging from tho rudo wall of a portion of the old ruins, a cluster of bright scarlet flowers. " Do you suppose we could get them ?" she askei, calling Arthur's attention to them.

" We can try,"he answered, willing to gratify so alight a request, and so they had wandered away after dinner to see what the prospect was for securing those coveted blossoms.

They found a place where several huge blocks of stone had fallen from the wall, making a sort of rudo staircase, and, with a little dexterous climbing, they thought they might accomplish thoir purposes. " Let me go alone and get them ?" Arthur

urged, "No, please let me go too-I shall like the adventure, besides I have a notion that we shall see something fine from the top of that wall," Ida returned, with animation, and she instantly began the ascent. But she was panting with fatigue when she at last stood upon the summit.

"You are tired—it was too much for you," Arthur said, noticing that she was pale also. " Sit hero," he added, "there is a stone higher than the others, and it will make quite a comfortable seat for you." " Yes, I am tired," she assented, sinking wearily upon it. "I never could keep pace with pleasure parties, and mamma cau tioned me to remembor it this morning bo foro starting ; I had not thought of it since, however, I have enjoyed everything so much. But, oh !" she exclaimed, with a sudden delight, her creamy face tnking on that rosy after-glow again, " what a view ! I told you I thought we should find some thing fine up here. I shall care for nothing else if I may only sit here and enjoy this." And truly it was a =cf ne to be long remem

bered. The ruins were upon a hill, and the lovely island surrounded by the sunlit waters seemed like an emerald set in silver ; while boyond, the mainland stretched away, on ono hand to verdure clad bills, on the other to green moadows and orange groves. Arthur Halstead's face kindled as Ins fine eyos roved over the scene. " It i* wcrth climbing for," he said, " and you shall fttt >'Cre as long as you like." i^o loar.':il over as he ceased speaking, plucked the tiowers-a great massive cluster of deepest crimson—which she had coveted, and laid them in her lap. Can you not see her there sitting among thoao vine-covered stones, that slender, graceful girl, in her brown dress, with that creamy faco, that dead white plume floating from her hat, those vivid blossoms lying on °It was a picture that an artist wouldhave loved to paint. . " Oh thank you ; they are very beauti ful " she cried ; then her great lustrous eyes wandered off again to those distant hills.

Suddenly they heard their names called from below, and looking over the wall, Arthur aakod what waa wanted. The party were going to visit a grotto about a mile up the island, and the? wished mm and Mies Montrose to accompany them. r J "Will you go?1' ho asked, turning to

Sho glanced up at him, blushed slightly, hesitated, then answered : "If you do not mind, I would prefer to sit here and enjoy this view until they re turn. But," she added, "do not let me ke«P y°u- I shall not mind staying alone, and the place may be of interest to you. " No, I shall stay with yon," he answered, quietly but feeling very uncomfortablo, nevertheless.

It would seem ungallant, ho thought, to loavo hor alone, even if it "would not be ab solutely unsafe. He turned again to those below, and called out:

Miss Montroso is weary and not equal to the long walk, ao we will remain where we are, while you are gono." " All right," was the response frombelow, only »t will take us some timo to go, and WAJ h, roturn. guide says, by the way of tho Witches' Glen."

Very well; then we will meet you at tho boat landing," Arthur returned; then as their friends trooped away, ho seated himself near his companion, and they fell to talking of various things. Miss Montrose had been an extensive traveller; hor power of description was vivid and inspiring, and Arthur soon found him self listening to her with an interest that was absorbing. " What a beautiful, talented girl she is !" ho said to himself, but no tenderer sentiment than_admiration thrilled him. He simply admired her as a lovely, gifted woman. If sho was beautiful, to him Audrey was a hundred-fold moro so. She might be gifted, brilliant, amiable, but, in his estimation, sho could not be compared with Audrey. Still, it was very pleasant Bitting there, in tho hoart of that emerald isle, the waters glittering all about them, tho cloudless azure sky abova them, listening to that Hwoetvoiced girl, whoso soul was all aglow and attuned to tho beauty around her. Tho time flew by on magic wings, until tho sun began to slip down behind the distant hills, and warned them that thoy ought to have gone to the boat-landing long ago.

CHAPTER V,

UOW TMrE NIGHT WAS PASSED,

Arthur perceived tho shadows lengthen ing about them, and looked at his watch.

It waif half-past four.

Ho started up, a half-guilty feeling in his heart that he should have allowed him eolf to bo so beguiled into forgetfulness.

Ho turned the faco of his watch toward Ida.

It is moro than two hours since the party left us to go tho grotto," he said. "It cannot bo possible !" his companion roplied, in surprise, and then meeting his eyes, she blushed like a red rose.

"I am afraid our friends have returned, and will think wo are not vory prompt about keeping our promise.," ho said, turn ing quickly away from that glowing face, tho sight of which sent a thrill of keenest pain through him. "I should have sup- Dosed, however, that not finding us at the landing, they would have sent some one in search of us," ho added, as she arose and he helped her down over the rough rocks. It was a work of time, though, and much moro difficult than tho ascent had been, and she was panting again, like a frightened bird, when she reached tbo solid ground.

" You are vory tired. You cannot be very strong to bo so easily wearied," ho re marked, regarding her with somo concern. "My lungs are not very strong," she answered, smiling: ' but I am bo much better now than 1 have over boeu before, that I feel as if I am going to bo a robust woman yet. I find that going up and down stairs, or steep placos, is the hardest task I have to do."

After resting a few moments they pro ceeded on their way ; but they miesed tho right path, and wandorod some distance before they discovered their error; but finally setting themselves right, they hastened to tho boat-landing, where they expected to find their friends impatiently awaiting them.

But what was tlioir consternation, upon reaching tho water's edgo, to find that they had all dopartod, whilo tboir own boat was also missing. •' What can bo tho moaning of this ?" Arthur Haletead cried, in perplexity, and secretly indignant at what no considered a very annoying practical joke. "Do you suppose they have taken our boat away in sport ?" Miss Montroeo askod. "It has that appearance," Arthur said, gravoly.

Ho walked rapidly down tho margin of the lake for somo distance, and looked out over the water.

Nothing was to bo seen of thoir com panions, or any boat; whilo at that very moment, not a dozen rods away, the Fairy Quoon, in the cosy security of her vino-clad nook, rocked and danced on the rippling waters, as if instinct with vicious gleo at his dilemma.

Arthur Halstead formed his hand into a trumpot and shouted aloud.

But only mocking echoes from tho dis tant hills gave back an answer to him. The sun had now entirely disappeared ; a mist was rising over the lake, and purplish shadow? were settling down upon the island ; the frogs had begun their shrill piping, and from a distant thicket then came the lonely cry of a whip poor-will. "This certoinly is a very uncomfortable predicament, and, 1 must aleo say, very in comprehoneible," Arthur said, going back to Ida.

Tho dew was falling very heavily, and be feared that Miss Montroeo'a health would suffor from the exposure Again and again ho shouted, but his own cry was only re peated in reply. Miss Montroso had seated herself upon the trunk of a fallen tree. Hor graceful form was outlined against tho darkening water ; her hands wero folded, and lying quietly in her lap ; her face had grown pale and troubled, but she was very patient, and gavo utterance to no word of complaint. All at once she looked up at Arthur.

" Can it bo possible" she linked, " that whilo we were at the ruins, somo one clho came to the island and took our boat, and the party, upon their return, finding it gone may have supposed we hid become tired of waiting for them and rowed ashore before them?"

Arthur's face cleared somewhat.

" That may be possible," he aaid, " 1 hail not thought of that solution of the myßtory." It cor.tainly looked reasonable, for he could not believe that any of their friends would wilfully subject them to such annoy anco. But if such wcro really the case, it mado matters all tho more complicated ani uncomfortable.

While he was thinking; it over, he saw her shiver.

" You are cold !" he cried in a voice full of anxiety. " It is getting very damp, the heavy dew makes the air chilly," she answered, trying to conceal how very cold she really was. "Yea, I know it; but what shall wo do!" he asked, "1 do not mind it at all for my self, but I fear the worst for you. Our friends surely will not go home without us. When they find our horses where we left them, they are certain to return for us. But we must do something for ourselves in the meantime. Let me take you back to the ruins, where, perhaps, wo may find a sheltered spot, where you will be somewhat protected from the dampness and thi3 chilly air."

" But if they should come while we are gone ?" she demurred. '' They will not; there is no sign of a boat anywhere, and I will go back and forth to watch," he roturned. He made her take his arm, and led her back up the hill towards the ruins, where, after looking about for a while, they found a place where the walls, in crumbling away, had formed a sort of cell, which was redly quite a room. The air was much warmer and drier there, and as Ida dropped wearily upon a groat stono, she said, trying to speak cheerfully : " This is much better." But in spite of her endeavour to conceal the fact she was still very cold, and her teeth chattered audibly. Arthur noticed it, and after a moment spent in thought, he turned abruptly away and left her.

Looking about the place, he found quantities of dried leaves, which had been swept into nooks and corners by the winds of the previous fall, and gathering a masa of tboee he carried them back to where the young girl sat, and piled them in a heap be fore her. Then going outside the ruinß he searched about until he found gome dead branches of trees, and bearing these back, he laid them over the leaves, struck a match and set fire to the whole.

The flame leaped from leaf to leaf, from twig to twig ; a bright blaze was kindled,

and a genial warmth began to pervade the cozy nook where Miss Montroee was seated. "Thus is cheerful," she cried, looking up gratefully into his face with one of hor rare smiles. "It puts an entirely different aspect upon the place," and she extended her white hands, which wore actually shaking with cold, toward the fire. _ " Now will you mind staying herd a little while alone, whilo I go down to tho lake to sco if any one ia coming 1" Arthur asked, relieved to know that she would be comfortable for a while at least. She swept one quick, startled glance around the dreary place, then she answered quietly :

"No, lam not afraid. I know you would not leave me hero if you thought it at all unsafe to do so."

''I will not be gono lone," ho answered her. and then strode rapidly away. He was true to his promise, returning in less than fifteen minutes, and with a bright smile on his handsome face.

" Are they coming ?" Ida cried, noticing it, nnd starting engerly up. "No, there is no boat in sight; but see ! I have_ found a treasuro," and he called her attention to a basket which he carried in one hand, and a small can in the other.

"Somo one forgot these. I found them behind the very log where you were sitting by the landing, a whilo ago," he said. He sat down beside hor, opened the lid of the basket, and revoaled it half full of various, danties-cold chicken and rolls, a small jar of jelly and some delicioua crackers.

"Oh, I believe I am hungry, though I had not thought of it before ; the sight of the food makes me ravenous," Ida said, brightening visibly. " I am glad to hear it," Arthur returned, " for tho Bight of your pale faco has torturod mo. Wo shall at least not starve, if we are prisoners on thia lonely island, for hero is sufficient to feed us for twenty-four hours. And hero in this can there ia somo excellent cofl'eo. lam going to hoat it, and moke you drink some 'piping hot,' to see if it will not bring back a little of tho truant colour to your fuce."

"I am sorry my poor faco disturbs you so.Mr Halatoad, " but, indeed, I am getting to bo quite comfortable by this gonial fire, and with this repast to appease our hunger, I am sure we can afford to ignoro our mis fortunes for a little while."

She Bpread a napkin upon tho broad etono where sho was sitting, whilo sho Bpoke, and began laying out the contents of the basket in as tempting a manner as possible. "You are a bravo young lady, AUbs Mont rose, to make co light of our trouble, and to boar it so patiently. I only hope no harm will rosult to you from it," Arthur said bestowing a look of admiration upon hor, while ho procoedod to imbed his can of collbo in tho hot ashes in ordor to hoat it.

It wa.s soon hot, and he made the pale girl drink copiously, and waß rewarded to soo her grow to look less like a spirit, whilo she appeared greatly refreshed by it; then they both fell upon the cold chicken and rolls, with a relish such as only tho roally hungry can Know. Their appetite appeased, Arthur went to take another look over tho lake ; but, though he could not understand why no one had come to seek for them, he began to fear that thoy would have to spend the night in that lonely place.

Tho moon was coming up, round and full, in the east, and the light was ono of sur passing beauty ; but there were no signs of any boat, there was no sound of dipping oars, nor of a human being, save himself, anywhero.

Hngathored moro fire wood on his way back determined to do all he could for the com fort of his delicate companion, and after replacing it, and stirring it up to a choor ful blazo, ho went out again and cut a quantity of pine and hemlock boughs. He carried them within the ruins, and arranged them in a sort cf rude couch close by tho firo.

"Thoro, Miss Montroeo! that will be moro comfortablo than that hard stone, I know," ho said, adding, " though I fear, even under tho most favourable circum stances, you aro going to bo worn out with this night's adventure."

" You fear, then, that we shall have to stay here all night?" she asked, gravely. "It certainly looks liko it. It is half past nine, and if any one had boon coming tor us ho must have been hero before this. I am very sorry, and it is absolutely inex plicable tj mo," he concluded, looking deeply distressed.

11 Please do not worry on my account, Mr Ha!stoad," Ida eaid, gently, whilo she arose from the stone whore sho had been Bitting and threw herself upon tho couch he had arranged for her. "I am sure I shall do vory well; and really tho fragrance of those pine boughs is delightful. I will try to imagine myself some woodland fairy, and this my native Dower." "I wish you could imagine where the Fairy Queen is, and then we would very soon return to o more substantial and comfort able, if not to our native bowor," Arthur responded, with a somewhat doubtful at tempt at pleasantry.

Miss Montrose laughed musically. In spite of tho exceedingly disagreeable predi. camont which they were in, her spirits arose as the houra advanced.

She was really very comfortable in the glow of the fire, and with the skirt of her riding-habit, which was very long and full, drawn up about her shouldors, she half sat, half reclined upon those springy, fragrant boughs, and felt very happy, as she watched her companion walk back and forth on the other side of tho fire. Tho romanco of the affair delighted her. She felt safe and se cure, surrounded by such thoughtful care as Arthur had bestowed upon her, while to be thoro alono with, and entirely dependent upon tho man to whom she had surrendered her girlish heart, thrilled her with indes cribable pleasure

MeanHme, the rest of the party had been really deceivod concerning the " enamoured couple," as they regarded thorn, for every one believed that, if they were not already declared lovers, the time was not far distant when they would bo, notwithstanding that young Ualstead was so punctilious in all matters pertaining to propriety, when in the presence of others.

They had returned from tho grotto by the way of the Witches' Glen, as they had told Authur they should do, and they had ex pected to find him and his fair companion at the boat-landing awaiting them.

But is they were net there, and as their boat also had disappeared, they con cluded that they had already gone ashore, and they should find them on the mainland where they had loft their horses.

When they reached the spot, however, and did not find thorn, they were greatly astonished.

" They must have gone for a row upon the lake," some one suggested, and, believing this they good-naturedly strolled about waiting for their appearance. But an hour went by and still they did not come. The party grew impatient; the dew was falling; the air was getting chilly ; the ladies were fearful of taking cold, and they at last decided to leave a man belonging to the hotel, who had come with them as a guide and to attend to the lunch, to show them the way home, and go on.

"They will not mind," one fair dame laughingly remarked, "they will never inies us, and Mr Halstead will be sure to take excellent care of Miss Montroso."

" Of that we may feel very certain," re joined another-, and lovers always admire a moonlight rigde by themselves,"

So the ga> company departed with jest and laughter at the expense of the innocent young couple. The man who had been left behind re mained talking with the boatman, and the throe watched for the return of the Fairy Queen until ten o'olock.

Their faces grew pale and troubled as the time went by,"and they began to hint that some accident must have happened to the missing ones.

They took a boat and rowed up the lake quite a distance, but it was all to no pur pose j they could see nothing of any other boat, and they returned, sad and anxious, to wait for daylight before making a more thorough search.

Midnight came and the hitherto cloud less sky suddenly grew overcast ; tho wind arose, and low mutterings in the west told of a gathering storm. It came up very suddenly, accompanied by sharp lightning and heavy thunder, and a pouring rain fairly delugod the earth.

Then it is quickly subsided, the moon came out from behind the clouds bright and smiling; the sky cleared, and, but for the milled aurfooo of the lake and the glittering rain-drops upon every leaf and twig, one could hardly have told that there had been a storm at all.

But the wind and rain and the rough waves had driven the dainty Fairy Queea from her quiet nook, and Bent her forth over the dancing waters'to tell at last the story of the mischief she had wrought.

"Tom, I'm Bure something dreadful has happened to them jcuug folks,'1 said the elder boatman to 1 h companion, when, at three o'clock in the morning, the dawn waa beginning to break in the east, and they came forth from the rude boat house, where

they had taken refuge from the storm. " I can't stand it any longer and I'm going to look for 'em until I find something. Ho walked down to the water's edge where his boats were moored, loosened one of them and entered it, followed by the other, and they rowed silently away up the lake, leaving the man, who had watched with them through tho long night, stand ing with a blank, white face upon the shore.

They had accomplished about half the distance to the island, when they descried the Fairy Queen floating toward them. ■'- Both men uttered an exclamation of fear and_ dismay as they saw it, and bending to their oara they soon reached the boat and drew it alongside. They looked at each other with ghastly faces.

" Bad luck to ye, my pretty fairy," said the elder, regarding his boat sadly, 'f I'm afeard ye've done a job this time that'll make my heart sore for many a long day." But the dainty queen could tell no tales, and tho two men rowed silently on up the lake toward the island, towing the boat after them.

They moved slowly along the show, looking for some signs of the missing ones. They did not land, for they had a [sus picion that they should not find any one there, and bo kept on to the head of tho island, where they could command a view of all the rest of the lake, looking with anxious eyes in every direction.

They could see nothing to confirm them in their belief that the young people had been capsized, though they searched about for a long time, and finally turned back again, rowing much more quickly than they had como, while the day had now fully dawned.

As they came in sight of the place where the company had landed the previous day, they were amazed to see Mr Halstead and Mies Montrose standing them awaiting their approach. Arthur had taken a run down to the shore a while before, and had oapiod them just as they wore rounding the island. He in stantly surmised that they were searching for them, and hastened back to tell Ida the good new?, aud to bring her down to to the lan ling, co as to be ready to hail them when they should return.

It would be hard to toll who were the most delighted at this unexpected meeting, the anxious boatmen or the unfortunate captivoa ; while there were many conjec tures as to how the little boat could have become detached from her moorings, and where sho could h&ve floated to have been so effectually concealed.

They joyfully roturned to the shore* whore thoy found Mr Halstead, Sr., and Mr Montroso in a fever of excitement and anxiety over their supposed loss ; for upon arriving at the spot and learning that they had not yet made their appearance, thoy instantly came to the conclusion that both had boon drowned.

Tho party had not reached St Augustine until quite lato, but made light of the absence of their companions, feeling sure that thoy would follow immediately. Mr Ilalstoad and Mr Montrose sat np awaiting them until midnight when the Htorm came on, and then they began to feel very much alarmed.

As soon as it cleared thoy both started out to find them, reaching tho lake only, a few moments before the return of the miss ing ones.

Ida retained her composure until her father's arms encircled her ; then her sense of weariness and the excitement overcame her, and she yielded to the unnatural tension to which her nerves had been subjected and fainted away.

She was lifted into a carriage in a state of unconcioueneta, and the weary yet thank ful party driven with all possible speed back to the hotel, the man following with tho two saddle horses.

(To he Continued.)

MAM'ZELLE EUGENIE.

A RUSSIAN LOVE STORY.

BY HENRY GREVILLE,

Author of "Dosin.." "Savoll's Expiation, "Mam ing Off a Daughter," "The Prinoesa Ophorof" " Markof," '• Tho Trials of Rolssa," ••Sslvie'B Betrothed." "Dournof." "Gabrielle,' "Lnole Rodey," "Bonne-Marie," " Xenio's Inheritance" "A Friend," "8onla." "Protiy Ltttlo Countess Zlna," '"Guy's MarrUee," •• Tania'u Peril," "Philoinono's Marrlaßon,"&o.

CHAPTER VII,

MADAME PAJAROF's ADVICE,

Four or five days had elapsed before Anton Petroritch, wearing a bran new suit and gloves, and looking more Bpiek and span than people in iho country ordinarily do, except od fete days, ordered his best horse to be put to the carriage, and drove up to his old friend's house.

"Goodness gracious !" exclaimed she as he entered: " What, are you going to St. Petersburg?"

"I have no such intention, I assure you," replied Malissof, slightly embarrassed by tho unexpected sensation that he had made.

"General," cried the good lady, -'tothe rescue; he is going to run away with me !" Tho general murmured a few words from the depths of his arm chair, held out a lazy hand to the secietary, and returned to the land of Nod.

"There 1" said Madame Pajarof, "just imagino me really in want of help. You see what is the use of a husband I"

At this moment a youn< man with dark eyes and a light beard came into the room. Maliesof 'recognisod the original of the flattering portrait drawn by Pelagic, who had, however, omitted one detail; instead of the moroae, rustic fellow lie expected to meet, a man of intelligent and prepossessing appearance stood before him.

" Hero comes the protector at any rate, proceeded Madame Pejarof, " who will not stand by and see me carried off without striking a blow, Nicholas Markof, whom I look upon as a son - Moneiour Maliasof.my neighbour and friend.' The two men shook hands, Markof without saying a word, Malisaof making Homo courteous remark. " Why are you got up in this way ?" re sumod tho pitiless Madame Pajarof: "if you are not trying to make an impression an me, it must be on come one else. Shall I summon Pelagic?" The three persons present—for the general counted for nothing—interchanged glances and slight smiles, which set them at once at their ease. Nothing promotes sociability more readily than a joint laugh at the ex pense of some one else.

" Pray, forgive me," said Malissof laugh ing, " and set it down to absence of mind ; I was thinking of other things as 1 dressed —"

" Your thoughts were in the metropolis," said ..j ndame Pajarof in an indulgent tone ; " bad habits always leave some trace be hind ! You come to call on an old lady in the country, and drees as if you were going to the opera! You put me to the blush I" "I will never offend again," said Malia cot; " forgive me this once." * " You are absolved; and now, what favourable breeze has blown you hither?" "The pleasure of seeing you," gallantly returned Maliesof, as he kissed Madame Pajarof'b good old hand.

They talked a great deal while the general slept. Markof wan as well informed as a man of twenty-three can be ; he was rather too dogmatic, and had some erroneous ideas, and too decided an opinion on some speoial questions, which he bad retained from his school days and professors' classes,'; but he took wide views of things in general and ahowed a generousyouthful enthusiasm, and, above all, a wish to make himself use ful. These qualities, combined with •Pelagie's revelations about his indifference to the ladies of that neighbourhood, gave him an interest in the eyes of Malissof, whose habits led him to scrutinise all with whom ho came in contact.

After an hour or two of conversation and an abundant country dinner the company dispersed in every direction, and Malissof at length found himself alone with his old friend. " What did you come to ask ?" said eho. "I quizzed you because I could not help it; my love of fun always gets the better of me, as you know, but if thore is anything I can really do—"

•'Thank you, I know your kindness," murmured Malissof. Ho ruminated for some moments, looked at the good lady, and then said abruptly : " Am I too old to think of marrying ?"

"I know it had something to do with marriage!" observed she triumphantly. " But I am not a widow, my friend! and I hope you have no intention of killing the general in order to marry mo off hand l" Malissof gave a reassuring shake of the head. '■ Then who is it you want to marry ?" resumed Miv'nio Pajarof, thoroughly en chanted with her own sagacity. '• I will tell you that afterwards; say first whether I am too old to marry." "No*- at ul'! Nofc at all! You ara—"

"Thirty-nine years and seveu months." "Then you are not turned forty. Turn and let mo look at your head. Your hair is thick both before and behind."

"There are some grey hairs," observed Malissof timidly.

"No one will notice them unless you dye them," remarked Madame Pajarof. " What fortune have you?" " I have an average income of thirty thousand roubles, taking one year with another."

"Perhaps you have set your affections on the Queen of Qolconda, or the daughter of the Tycoon?" "My ambition does not soar so high; a simple mortal will satisfy me." " Very well. What ie your character ?" " Undecided, but rather easy ; no whims er peculiarities."

"And an excellent heart. As to principles, I need not speak of them, since you think of marrying, for marriage is a baptism of fire, purging everything. Amen. Well, then my dear friend, go and marry!" Malissof made no reply. "Marry, I nay, in the abstract," went on Madame Pajarof, " since you appear to have no more definite prospect of marriage." " There is something more definite," put in Malissof.

" Ah ! may I know J"

"It is Eugenic Berlaguine," said he, struggling against the bashfulness of a young actor, which sat badly on a diplo matist.

" She is a nice creature," replied Madame Pajarof, after a silence which seemed long to the expectant suitor; "pretty well made, a good girl—witty—in short, I am very fond of her," concluded she.

" Would you like to see her my wife ?" " I should indeed I" exclaimed the old lady emphatically. " And would you like to see me her hus band ?"

" Certainly, if she loves you !" " Why should sho not love me ? In time, I mean. Hitherto I have made no effort to please her, but —" " You can try, my friend, and yet I too must say but—" "Have you any reason for saying bo?" exclaimed Malissof, starting up and turning very pale. " I know nothing : question her—she is, I believe, very straightforward ; then you may learn at once what you may hope for."

"Do you think her mother would let me have her ?"

Madamo Pajarof sank back in her chair with the quiet laugh of an old person who has seen a good deal of the world and under stands human nature. "Make your mind easy on that score," said she : "• if you see Madame Berlaguine refuse her daughter to a man with an income of thirty thousand roubles a year, you may boast of having seen something unique of its kind. " And yet I should not liko to be accepted merely on account of my fortune," said Ma lissof, pained at the very thought. "Goat once to Eugenic herself; she is straightforward, as I say; whatever she says you may trust her word." " I will take your advice," said Malissof, " and thank you for giving it." " And now in return," said the old lady, " will you not do something for me 1" " Anything in my power I" "Try to get some appointment for Markof ; he has plenty of ability, but is not a great favourite here ; he is rather above the heads of the people in our neigh bourhood. I think you would not find him to give you any cause for complaint." Malissof promised so see what he could do, and the very next day, indeed, after talking to the young man all the evening, he despatched two or three letters to friends upon whose influence and willing ness to serve him he could rely.

CHAPTER VIII,

kuoenik's confession,

Several days passed, spiteful days, which scorned to take a pleasure in running counter to the plans of feeble mortals. In the first place, the weather was abomin able, and then the work going on in the fields required especial surveillance, and Maliesof's bailiff chose to fall ill at this very juncture. Our hero passed some sad evenings alone in his mother's little sitting room, questioning the future and despair ing of happiness. Have we not all ex porionced that on rainy days our mindß are predisposed to melancholy impressions ? The sun at length emerged from the clouds, and Malissof ordered the carriage to dome round to take him to Madame Borlu guino's. It was about six o'clock on a Sunday ovoning; the earth, refreshed by the rain, was clad with new verdure; there was a promise of an abundant aftermath, and the gathered harvest filled the hearts of the peasantry with a sense of security, which was reflected in their faces.

Maliesof drove through prosperous villages whore children were sporting in tho pools left by the recent torrents of rain. Tho old people sat outside their cottages on wooden benches, looking on the young folk's games; they had fastened to the planks the long see-saw on which the girls sat closely packed, singing together, while the lads, dressed in red shirts, with round flat hats of felt decorated with peacock feathers and gayly tilted over one ear, softly swung them, keeping time to the tune for hours together. Malissof gazed as he drove past on these pictures of rural life, and asked himself whether tho happiness of these people did not exceed that of citizens who attain some object of ambition or interest after great exertions ; he too felt ac if hia tastes grew simpler in tho midst of this simple nature, and Eugenic looked to him ten times more charming, as she appeared in the window of her mother s drawing-room, in the midst of green shrubs which surrounded the front of the house.

He had scarcely alighted from his carriage when he perceived an air of sadness on the young girl's face which he had never before seen. She must have been crying, for her eyos looked slightly swollen, and a few red spots were visible on her peach-like cheeks. After a few preliminary questions, Malisaof ondoavoutod by skilful .remarks to ascertain what could have taken place that day, but Madame Berlaguine was not to be sifted. There was something unusual too in her manner; her natural rudeness, generally concealed beneath a thick veneer of affected courtesy, became mere apparent than was seemly, and instead of coming and going as usual on incessant errands of hospitality, she never left the room, but watched over her daughter with argus eyes. Malissof 'a curiosity was aroused, but all his diplomatic arts threatened to avail him little on this occasion. At last Madame Berlaguine left the drawing-room, bat be fore he had time to open his lips, she sum moned her daughter also. Eugenic obeyed, murmuring a word of excuse, and left the visitor to his own devices.

For a moment be felt inclined to take his hat and go, but the thought of the disgrace w.hich Eugenic had evidnetly in curred inspired him with a hope of render ing her some service; so he remained, An angry whispering in the other room sug gested that Madame Berlaguine was scold ing her daughter; in such a cose it is useless to resolve not to listen—the ear naturally dißtends aud involuntarily ac quires prodigious acuteness. Thus he unintentionally overheard these words, which seemed the close of some long lec turo.

" I will not hear a word about him, I tell you ! You will do as I command you, or else I will send you away and put you to a foreign boarding-school, where you will never see me again I" J . Eugenic re-entered almost immediately ; she had turned almost white, her eyes looked distended, and she walked with difficulty, her hands drooping at her side. Maljssof rqse to assist her, but she made a sign to stop him, and said, as she raised her eyes full of a gloomy fire to. his face : " Will you take a turn in the garden ?" He bowed in silence and followed hor. She directed her steps towards the old bower, entered the shade of the grand lime trees, and seated heraelf on a worm eaten wooden bench, which ran all round the enclosure.

•' You ore in trouble, mademoiselle t" said Malisaof, deeply touched by the sight of her grave, mute despair. , "Yes," replied ehe, and her large eyeH rested for a moment on hia face, and then Bank with a melancholy listlessness. " You mußt know what Ifeel for you," re sumed Malisaof; " speak to me frankly and tell me if I can be of any help ?" She looked up, then hung down her head without & word. "I love you," he said, but checked himself, for the occasion seemed mest unsuit able for a declaration of his feelings;" 1 love you tenderly, and wish to be a true friend, the beßt, most reliable —" "Do you really mean it ?" said the, with a faint ray of hope in her weary eyea. The Bun's low rays pierced the bower, en tering through the opening made in the green wall, and making the grayel sparkle; all nature seemed happy, the gayety of a

bright summer evening extending even to the grass on which the orickets sprang. Anton Petrovitch rose and drew near to Eugenic, " I will be the best and truest of friends," repeated he; " I love you better than myself, and cannot bear to Bee you suffer. Trust me, my child." While ho spoke, a bitter grief was gnawing at bis heart; Eugenie's was no childish sorrow; then what could have wrought such a change in her sweet face? The words "my child" rose to his lips naturally, but with a savour of bitterness.

Eugenic gazed at him fixedly, scrutinising his countenance; he stood before her, await ing her answer,—she threw herself into his arms, laid her head on his breast, and wept. He held her in a dose embrace; he had dreamed of making this girl his wife, and she had surrendered herself to his arms in perfect confidence, and yet her touch brought him no joy, but a poignant grief, which he lingered over for a moment with a kind of bitter relish.

"This, then, was the bliss awaiting me )" said he to himßelf. He made the young girl sit down by his side on the bench, took one of her hands and laid it between his own, and then said in a soft, caressing tone : " Tell me all your troubles, confide in me."

" You really love me," said she, upraising a face wet with tears; "my mother does not really love me, she only loves her own pride and ambition—" "Compose yourself," broke in Maliasof ; " your mother does not love you in the way you would like, and yet her affection for you is very great." " She wante to see me rich and in a high position. I have no such tastes—l was not made for that!"

Malissof Bighed; she was just the wife he sought; was this flower of tho field never to blossom in his garden ?

"My lifo has been very hard since you came," pursued Eugenic ; " before that, all was right, I was left to myself, but since—" she coloured, paused, and tried to disengage hor hand, but Malissof held it gently fast. " I have been looked upon as a good match in the neighbourhood," said he, "and an attempt has been made to force you to regard me in the same light!" " Yes," sho replied, reassured on finding herself understood. "I was ordered to behave well to you -that was not difficult," added she, with an angelic smile, which affected Malissof almost to tears, " you are so kind ! But that was not enough. I was to play the coquette ; I was scolded for not taking pains to make myself agreeable—" " Which was a much more effective way of playing the coquette," said Malissof in a low voice. She looked up in astonish ment ; he smiled and made a sign for her to continue.

" I did not wish to make myself agree able," said she, growing more animated; " it seems to me wrong to give hopes that can never be realised, and then, even if you had shown me any preference"—her colour rose, and her face fell, as she resumed, "it would not have been in my power, I was not free to—" Sho snatched away both hands and buried her face.

" You love some one else, and have pro mised to marry him ?" asked MalLssof with out'any apparent emotion. From the very commencement of the conversation, he hod bean gradually preparing for this confession, and now scarcely felt it a shock. "Yes," rejoined she eagerly, "I love Nicholas Markof ; you have seen him and may have formed some idea of Mb character, but you cannot tell the value of his heart I No one knows that but myself. For the last two yearn he has been working for me, making a position, and toiling day and night. His couraga and patience have ob tained him a situation in the railway ser vice, nothing grand, certainly, but enough to live on. He has not a penny of his own," Bhe continued, turning on Malissof her open face, all sparkling with womanly pride; "his father sold the estate last year by Nicholas's advice, in order to pay off the old debts that had accumulated when he was in the hussars. 'Father,' said he, 'I could not eat a morsel of bread made from the corn grown on your estate while your credi tors remain unpaid.' Some of these credi tors had long given up all hopes of ever seeing their money again, they had become quite poor, and thought no more of old Markof except to rail at him for his dis honesty. Nicholaff'could not bear the idea of a single man being able to pay a word against his father, bo they sold the estate and paid everything off; the old man re served a small annuity for himself, but Nicholas will have nothing, nothing but his noble soul and his talents. And when he came just now to ask my mother for my hand, she showod him the door—yes, Anton Petrovitcb, she cent him away because he was poor. I love him, poor as he is, and I mean to be his wife, or to die 1"

She had risen, and her indignation added an inch to her stature. Maliseof gazed steadily at her, then taking both; her hands, he drew her towards him and, im printed a paternal kiss upon her brow. " I promise you that you shall become his wife, and live for many and many a year." "Ah !" cried she, throwing her arms round his neck with a sudden impulse, "how I love you. I love you as if you were my father!" Her father! Alas, while his paternal hand smoothed the lovely hair which had become ruffled by her sudden movement, one solitary barn ing tear fell on Eugenie's bowed head. She did not feel it and nothing disturbed her happinees. " But what must we say to my mother?" resumed she, after a minute.

" Tell her that I have shown you a great deal of esteem and affection, and I mean to come again shortly to have some serious conversation with her," replied Malisßof, resuming his diplomatic habits. She looked at him dubiously, then caught his meaning, and smiled. But another thought came into her head, and made her grave again. "But as to your self, Anton Petrovitch," said she, " people gaid you wanted to marry—"

"I shall be thoroughly happy if I see you happy," replied he with perfect sin cerity. " Now, lot us go in." Madame Berl&guine's maternal heart expanded with unusual effusion that day. The most cordial understanding existed between her daughter and the wealthy suitor ; they exchanged amilos and mean ing glances across the table; there was even a eweotnoes and tenderness in their voices. As soon as Malissof was gone, the affectionate mother tried to cross-question her daughter; but as it was not the habit of the latter to make long answers or go into particulars, she was unable to obtain any information beyond that conveyed in the words agreed upon with Malisaof.

CHAPTER IX.

THE RIVALS.

Anton Petrovitch returned home in a peculiar state of mind; for the first time in his life he experienced an actual onjoyment in suffering; the recollection of a former at tachment —a cup suddenly dashed from his lips two-and-twenty years ago—came back to him with unusual sweetness. His present position bore some resemblance to that in which he had once before found himself; then, too, the coveted object had just eluded his grasp, but the years that had since flown had imbued him, not merely with wisdom and moderation, but with a depth of feeling unknown to youth. He loved now as he had never dreamed of loving, and yet at the first summons of fate he had re nounced his love without the slightest struggle or attempt at rebellion. This stupor and resignation did not last long ; a voice soon awoke within him, cry ing, " Why should I renounce the pleasures of life? why not rather let her make the sacrifice? Would she be the first woman forced to give up the man of her choice? Would not a life spent with me be happier and more enviable than the one she can ex pect by the side of her poor clerk ? I have it in my power to offer her all the advan tages to which she is a stranger. I will give her everything, rank, handsomedresses, jewels, horses, and whatever lies within the reach of a doting husband's purse and devo tion—all shall bo hers ; and let us see whether, when she is ambassadress at Paris or Home, she will still think of her poor struggling Nicholas Markof I" He paced bis room with long strides, threatening his adverse fate with out stretched arm. Then his agitation subsided and he eat down. "Yes," said he to him eolf, " her mother throws her into my arms, the wcrld assigns her to me, but what would come of my marrying her against her will ? While lam sleeping, proudly happy, she will be pissing the night in weeping, stifling her sobs, and thinking of the humblebome she might have shared with the man she loved ; of what avail will be the luxury with which, I surround her, the selfish indulgences which so soon lose their charm, and the triumphs of a world for which she does not feel herself fitted ? And supposing I awake and find her io tears, weeping over the dream which I have ruth* lonely broken, should I kill her, or him, or myself, to put an end to such tortures ? I have made a promise and I will keep it," continued he; " now that I have learned the truth, I could never be happy ; i let the happiness be hers who has not ye( peen taught the hard lessons of life !" " '

He went down into the garden ; the night was far advanced, a paler gleam Iv» the east heralded the dawn ; he walked for some time up and down tho fresh, damp avenues, ana then returned indoors. Ho wrote a note to Nicholas Markof, begging him to come and see him at once, despatched a messenger, and threw himself on lub bed as the sun rose above the horizon.

The messenger found Markof up and stirring, though it was scarcely more than seven o'clock. Ho, too, had passeda restless night. He ordered a horse to be saddled left a message for Madame Pajarof with directions to deliver it as soon as she awoke, and Btarted off in some astonishment and no little anxiety, Malbsof was asleep when he arrived, but the slight noise made by the horse's hoofs in the courtyard awoke him. He was ready in a twinkling, and hastened down stairs to meet his visitor. •' You mast ex euso me for having disturbed you at this early hour," said he, holding out his hand, "but the affair I have to speak to you about is too serious to admit of delay."

Markof bowed eilently. " Madame Berlaguine <loob not regard you favourably, lam told," pursued Malissof. " Excuse mo," said the young man, rifling, " but that is my affair."

" My information comes from Mademoi selle Berlaguine." Markof sat down again and bit his lips. " Madomoieollo Eugenic has deigned to honour me with her confidence, and I believe I am the only person to whom she has ever mentioned your name. To avoid all misunderstanding, I will come at once to the point. In a word, sir, she loves you — and I love her,"

The two men faced each other steadily as enemies for a moment, then Markof's threatening expression gave way to a bitter sadness. " You have the advantage of me, sir," said he ; "I am refused and you are accepted. I respect her too much to run away with her—l cannot imagine why you sent for me, unless it wob that you might enjoy your triumph." " I told you ehe was in love with you," repeated Malissof; "so the advantage is on your side, not on mine. I confessed my love for her, but not with the motive you ascribe to me; if you really love her and know her character, it remains for you to judge which of us she would do best to choose. If you feel yourself capable of bearing a life of struggle and poverty with her, and are certain that your love for her is strong enough to prevent her ever re gretting her choice, I will withdraw my claims; but, before deciding, pause and ask yourself whether she would not better secure her happiness by becoming my wife,'

Markof remained silent for a moment, and then raised bis eyes, turning them on Malissof with a frank, manly gaze. " You are a good man," said he; "we are not accustomed to see men in society trubling themselves about their wives' happiness, but the answer you seek has been made by my heart for the last two years. I can not be happy without Eugenic, and am equally persuaded that she cannot be happy without me. A heart like hers is never capable of more than one real attach ment, and her heart has been mine ever since it was conscious of beating. There is an immense difference, it is true, between your position and mine, but Eugenic has never looked for anything nighor than what shs may expect to share with me; thus the advantages you can offer have bo real existence for her, since she will never know them."

"He uses rather too many words," thought Malissof, "but the substance is genuine. Granted," resumed he aloud ; "but as to yourself, will you never regret having deprived her of advantages which are substantial, although they may seem valueless in her eyes ?"

Markof's face lighted up with a smile, the smile of a triumphant young lover who despises all obstacles, and overcomes them by the mere force of contempt. This triumphant smile completed his conquest of Malissof, though it plunged the barb of suffering still deeper into the tatter's heart. They exchanged a cordial grasp. "Very well," said Malissof, "I will vacate the field, and henceforth you may look on me as a friend. What can Ido for you ?" "Nothing, so far as I know," returned Markof, his with winning frankness. " There may be nothing in your power." Malissof thought that at any rate ho could obtain him some good appointment, but he kept this reflection to himself. "How do you stand with Madnno Berla guire ?" said he. "On the wont terms possible," replied the young man, nnble to refrain from smiling. " Now that I have an ally, I may venture to laugh, but it was more than I could do last night; she positively forbade me ever to enter her houeo, and swore that she wonld never cross Madame Pajarof's tnreehold so long as I remained there." "Plain speaking,, ; at any rate," said Malisßof. "Is she obstinate?" Markof made an energetic sign of assent. "Is there no hope, then," continued Malissof, " That she may change her mind ?" "It is not likely. My father, na you perhaps know, parted with his estate last year. Before that I was well received, and my suit might possibly have bean en couraged then ; but now, that—" he com pleted bis sentence with a wave of the hand more expressive than words. "So that if you would marry Made moiselle Eugenic, you must elope with her?" suggested Msliasof gently.* Markot looked more troubled. "Itis a bold step," said he, at length, "but Mainmo I'ajarof has already advised it." "Ab !" exclaimed Malissof, who could not help laughing, "my old friend is always for prompt measures," The new allies breakfasted 'together and concocted a plan which promised the greatest success; after breakfast, Markof returned to good Madame Pajarof, while Malissof went off to the Berlaguines. It was well that he had found no time to expend in useless self-compassion, he had thus spared himself a world of fruitless suffering; besides, when he had once made up his mind, it was contrary to his habits to revert to the past.

{To be Continued.)

The Mistake I Made.

Let me see—where was it that I first met her? Oh, yes; it was under the ancient urchea of the old bridge, boating by moon light. A globe of reddish pearl slowly as cending out of the east—the shadows of the bridge resting softly on the mirror-like surface of the river; the sound of a flute played softly afar off, and all of a sudden the keel of my boat coming sharply into contact with somebody else's oars.

" Hallo, you !" cried out a olear, incisive young voice. " Where are you going tot Why don't you look which way you are steering ?" '• Charley Dresden I" cried out I, little heeding the torrents of obloquy he wan be ginning to heap upon me. "Old Mortimore," he responded, joyously. " Why, who on earth would have thought of rinding you dreaming on the Thames? Here ! Come into my boat. Hitch on your old craft behind 1 And let me introduce yon to Miss Sophy Adriance." I looked as eharply at Miss Sophy as the moonlight and my own modesty would let me, for I knew that ebe was the especial admiration of my friend Charley Dresden. 1 had beard her blue eyes and peach-blossom cheeks raved about until even my much en during patience had failed. I bad listened to rhapsodies about her sweet voice and pretty ways. 1 had beon called upon to criticise original poems composed in her honour, until the Bubject had long since pilled upon me -and here I had stumbled, as it were, upon her just as Charley was on the threshold of a declaration.

She was pretty, slight, round and rosy, with china-blue eyes, a dimple in either cheek, and golden brown hair worn in long loose curls, with none of the fashionable abominations of crimps, frizzes, and arti ficial braids about her. There was some thing flower-like and delicato in her pretti ness, something unconsciously imploring in her way of lifting her eyes up to your face. Hardened old bachelor though I was, I felt as if I could have fallen in love with her on the spot, if I hadn't know so woll thut Charley had the Bret innings

We rowed home together—or, at least, as far on our way home as the Thames would take us. Sophy sans; little boat ballade. Charley roared cut tenor barcaroles. I even 'essayed a German student eong -which I had learned in Heidelberg, nobody knows how long ago, and we parted the best of friends.

A week afterwards Dresden and I met face to face in St. Jamea's-street.

" Hallo, Mortimore !■" said Charley, his honest visage lightening up. "What do you think of her I"

"1 think ehe is a pearl—a jewel—a prin cess among women !" I answered, with perfect sincerity.

" Congratulate me, then !" oried Charley, beaming all over, '• for I am engaged to her. Only last night! Look here I" opening the mysterious silver case which he took from

his inner vest pocket. " What do yon think of that for an engagement ring ?" "A fine diamond," said I, putting my head critically on ono sido; "and fanci fully set." " We're to be married in October," said Charley, lowering his voice to tho most confidential tones. "It might havo .boon sooner if I hadn't undertaken that bm-inoss in, France for our firm. But I shall be sure to be back by October, and the money' I shall make will bo acceptable to nurds fitting up and furnishing our new home. Becauso, you know, Mortimore, I'm nob rich."

So we parted with a reciprocating squeeze of the band, and Charley's bright face haunted me all day with a sort of reminiscence of what might have happened also to me, if t hadn't been five-andforty, with a bald spot on the back of my head, I spent an evening with hor afterwards at the West End Hotel, where she and her mother—a nice, bright-eyed little woman, the full-blown roso to corresphhd with Sophy's budding loveliness — dwolt, in the cosiest of apartments, furnished in dark blue reps, and with canaries and geraniums in the windows. It was a pleasant evening, and if would havo been still pleaimntor if Charley and Miss Adriance had not both agreed by mutual consent to put me and the expectant mother-in-law on the saina platform of old fogeyism, and expected ua to talk politics, religion, and the last new opera by the shaded gaslight, whilo limy did the Romeo and Juliet business out on the balcony. I dare say they enjoyed it; but it was rather embarrassing, you boo, to Mamma Adrianco and mo.

"It's so kind of you to come," said Sophy, with a gentle pressuro of the hand when I went away, "lam so glad to wel come Charley's friends."

And I felt that I could cheerfully sifc through another evening of common-place chit-chat and photograph albums for such a reward as that.

Well, Charley Dresden wont away, and as he didn't particularly leave Sophy Adriance in my charge, I didn't feol called upon to present myself at the lodging-houaa where the blue reps figured and the canaries sang in the south windows. I supposed, naturally enough, that all was going 'ight, until one day I received a noto from my old friend, Bullion, the banker, ,» man of sixty, who wears a wig and spectacles, and counts hia income upon the double figures.

Bullion wrote from Brighton, whore ho had gone because he didn't know what else to do with himself in the dull season. Ho asked me to be hi< best man. Bullion was going to be married ! "Of course, you'll think it a foolish thing for me to do," wrote Bullion ; " bub even at sixty a man has not entirely out lived the ago of sentiment; and when onca you see Sophy Adriance you will forgivo any seeming inconsistency on my part." " Sophy Adriance I" Was this the way poor Charley's blue-eyed fiancee was serving him while he was across the Channel try ing to earn a little monoy for her Bake! My heart rebelled against the fickleness of woman.

I went straight to the West End Hotel. Ih was possible that I might be misled by a similarity of name, although oven that was unlikely.

"IsMies Adriance at home?" I asked of the waiter who answered the bell.

"No, sir. Miss Adriance is-spending a few weeks with a friend at Brighton," she answered, promptly.

That was enough. I went homo and in closed Bullion's letter in another envelope, directing it to poor Charley Dresden's ad dress, Poßte Reetante, Paris, adding a few lines of my own, wherein I endeavoured to mingle consolation and philosophy as aptly as possible.

" It is an ungracious thing for me to do, sending this letter," wrote I, " but I bo lieve it to be the part of a truo friend to undeceive you as promptly as possible. Bullion is a millionaire. Sophy is but a fallible mortal after all. Be a man, Dresden, and remember that she is not the only woman in the world who would rather be an old man's darling than young man's slave " And,then I wrote, curtly declining to 11 stand up " with old Bullion.

It waa but a few days subsequently that the waiter showed an elegantly dressed young lady into my room at the hotel where I was stopping. I rose in some surprise. Aeide from old Aunt Jane Flat*-, and my laundress, my lady visitors were few. But the instant she threw up her thick tissue veil, I recognised the soft blue eyus and damask-rose cheeks of Sophy Adriance.

"Oh, Mr Mortimoro!" shocriod piteously, " I know yon won't mind my coming to your hotel, because you eeem exactly liko a father, to me." 1 winced'a little at this. " But I have received such a letter from Charley, and as—an you've known him a long time, I thought perhaps you couid eV plain it to me. Oh, I ,have boon bo wretched I And indeed, indeed, I didn't deserve it I"

She gave me a toar-blottcd letter, and then sat down to cry quietly in tbo corner of the sofa, until such timo as I should havo finished its perusal. It was a fit mirror of Charloy Dresden's im petuous nature, full of bittor reproaches, dark innuendoes, hurling back her troth and hinting gloomily at suicide 1 When I read it, I scarcely wondered at poor Sophy's dis tress.

" What does he mean, Mr Mortimore," asked Sophy, plaintively, " when he accuses me of deceiving him, of selling myself to the highest bidder? Oh, it's so dreadful !" I folded the letter, and looked soveroly at her. *

"Miss Adrianco," eaid 1, gravely, "it strikes me you are trying to play a double part here. The aiiianced bride of Benjamin Bullion ought hardly to hope to retain tho allegiance of poor Charles Dresden into the bargain." "I don't understand you," said Sophy, looking wistfully at me.

"Are you not about to bejoiu.; tho wife of Mr Bullion, the banker?" I asked, sternly.

"Oh, dear no," said Sophy. "That's mamma !"

" Eh I" gasped I,

" ItVtriamma," answored Sophy. " Sho's to bo married next week ! Didn't you know.it?"

I stared straight before me. Wolf, I had got myself into a pretty pickle by med dling officiously in affairs that didn't con cern me.

" Look hero, Miss Adriance," eaid I, " I will tell you all about it." So I did. I described old Bullion's letter, my own false deductions therefrom, and the rash deed I had committed in send ing the banker's correspondence to Charley Dresden.

"And now," said I, "do you wonder that he is indignant ?" Sophy's face grew radiant. "But there's no harm done," said she. "No real harm, I mean. Because I've written him a long letter all about mamma and Mr Bullion, which he mutt have received almost the next mail after he sent off this cruel, cruel sheet of reproaches. And pray, Mr Mortimore, don't look so woe begone," she eaid, kindly, " Your mistake was natural enough." Sophy was a true prophet. Thero was no "real harm" done. The next mail brought a letter full of entreaties to bo pardoned, and a brief, brusque note to me, which told me, not exactly in co many words, but in spirit, that I had a great deal better have minded my own business.

Which I really think I had,

I stood up with eld Ben Bullion and that full-blown rose, Sophy's mamma, after all ; and when Charley Dresden camo homo, I cut the big wedding-cako at his marriage feast. Papa Bullion gave the bride away, and people say that Sophy was the prettiest bride of the season.

But it came very near being a broken off affair at one time, and all through my fault. I've since learned to hold my tongue— a lesson none the less valuable for being learned late in life I—"Prize Tit-Bit."

The Bad and Worthless.

are never imitated or countcr/ciled. Tin's is especially true of a family medicine, and it i« positive proof that the remedy tmifnled is of the lugliosl Vitluo. As soon as it had boon tested and prov.-.l by the whole world thai. Flop Kilters was the purest, best, and most valuable family medicine on earth, many Imitations sprung up. and begun to steal the notices in which the Press and the people of the country had expressed the morite of H. &, and in every way frying to nducc Buffering invalids to use their stulM instead, expecting to mate money on the credit <nd good name of J f . B. Many others started nosmumsput up Installs stylo toxtp., wUh ••Hor""o yr; -n riSo'l "ami! 3in the word no matte vhut\ eir'stvk rC"IC<Ii"S V'H

DECLINE OF MAN.-Swrou. uv«k. : ..» Dmmfr*. li-.|-.u-.i.-«. S.xu.l UM-.A, .. ,- ,)■ -We 11... ll, a |||, i;VS">

THE AUCfeLAip, EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1885.

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