Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 23, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 December 1874 — Page 2

I®!"

a

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•THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

V4

THE BETTER LANGUAGE, Many and many a year ago, a When we old folk* were young. -1 In giving language our thoughts

We used our mother tongue. But now the age has grow* to test, orcu are forgot,

The old

And nothin jnd nothing will safBoe us now But slang that Is red hot. In tboM old times never said

Of Joe, Tom or Bill, In speaking of their penmanship*, Ha slings a nasty quill." •, In speaking of a man otaense, "Ifisjudgment's apod," tlyy said

Bat now they say "The old Sardine Has got a level head. Once angry word* would lead to blows

But now, when a "galoot *01 ve too much cbin"or "put oa trills, We "paste him on the snoot." In (forrow then they spoke of death

With paleand tarembUng lip I But now, "lie's handed in his checks* Or, "The duffer slipped hiagrip.' Then, as they grasped a friendly hand,

They said

aHowdoyou

dot"

But now "What you got that's freshTT Or, "Well, old chap, wliat*s newt" Then, "He plays billiards well," we anld,

Of one excelled by few But now, "Well, he's not a slouch, He shoves a healthy one." Once on a time a man danced well—

Alas! tts so no more "He'sjust She man can shake himself Whea you boost him on the floor." A man once used to go to lunch,

When eating time drew near But now he'll"wrestle with his hush,'' Or,"tackle his daily beer." Old mends at meeting used to pledge

Each other In a eup But now it is "Here's to yer, Bill P'_ And "Oeorge.Just.hang that up."„ Oh, give me back«U»oa© good old days,,

When both the old and young U«ed none but true, old fanhloued words, And slang was neveislung.

DID SHE DIE?

CHAPTER XXIT.

jrerctsB SMITH GROWS COMMUWICATIVK. Mr. Durrant chose to consider himself Ill-used by his nurse's visits to the chamber of Rupert Errington, during the two or three days that the youni man consented to remain in bed anc although she was careful not to let ber patient suffer by her occasional absences from his chamber, he snarled and grumbled, and frequently threatened to millet her of part or her wages. But some inexplicable change had come over his silent, patient attendant. Ever since he night on which be had found her trying to unlock the cabinet, she had— though equally attentive to bis absolute needs—cast off all outward show of deference. She haw permitted him to know that be was not a stranger to her that she was thoroughly acquainted with sundry details connected with his earlier life, and in her demeanor he could not bnt see that contempt of the man mingled with pity lor the sufferings that became more acute as he grew weaker.

He saw that she despised him, and he hated her for it but, for the first time in his career, be dared not thoroughly offend a paid dependent. No one could give him so much relief when the attacks of pain come on as the clever, experienced nurse, and therefore be clung to her, and was uneasy whenever she was out of bis sight, although, at the same time be yearned in his pitiful spite to be able to punish her for the cool and defiant attitude she had assumed.

He missed Milly Raymond,who, since be so insultingly refused her visits, had scarcely entered his chamber. Her clear, low volice had been invaluable whed he wished to be read to, and the compassion that shone in ber gentle eyes had been more precious than the hard, worldly man chose to confess.

One evening, after battling with his pride for some time—often inclined to aend for her, yet unable to resolve to stoop to Errfngton's housekeeper—be peevishly bade the nurse get a book or newspaper, an4 read to him, if she knew bow. "Miss Raymond bade me tell you tw you might always command ber services as a reader, .when you chose to accept them," Mrs. Smith observed.

Did I ask yon for that piece of informithii I suppose she has had ber orders to volunteer this attention*"

Probably she has," was the quiet response. "She Is the crafty servant, eoaQutor, or whatever you choose to call her. of a craftier master!" be went on, lashing himself, be often did, Into a rage. "Not that blame her for what sbedkwe she plays for a high stake."

Mrs. Smith, who had not hitherto raised her head from ber needlework, ever which she sat bending, looked up oow with a frown, as if the subset were distasteful—a sufficient reason in Mr. Durrani's eyes for continuing to dwell «pon it.

Yea, Ik la high stake she plays for, or what she, poor, country-bred creature, considers so. Any one of average understanding eaon see that if rite can induce me to make a will in Knipgton's fevor, he will rewaid ber by making ber the sharer of his newly-aoquired is Arise! He will MW many again said

yeu stand

"Then sheswas rich?" And beautiful," she added "passionate, self-willed, and credulous. Youbave met with many such women in voar time, Mr. Bunrant, and amused yourself with their weaknesses. Shall I go 011, and tell vou how, in the brightness of her girlhood, while holidaymaking at the bouse of a former, enjoying the fun of dressing in the gay costume of his daughters, and striving to appear neither more or less than a simple country girl like themselves, fate threw in her way a young Englishman, who was traveling in the neighborhood?" "Your story ia mther commonplace at present," Mr. Durrant observed. "The girl was pretty and vain, the Englishman impressionable, I tuppose, and so they "ot up a filiation. By-and-by, he went bacK to his native land, and she fancied herself ill-used. Isn't that all?"

Not quite. The

Englishman's imperfect knowledge of her native language prevented him from discovering the secret of her birth, though it did not hinder him from doing Bis utmost to win her affections. She was credulous to a fault, and endowed him with every virtue man can possess. She believed, too, that she was loved for herself, and exulted in the thought of the delightful surprise she should have in store for him when he declared himself, and she whispered to this generous lover that his bride would come to him richly dowered." "Where did you learn all this?" demanded her auclitor, beginning to testify some interest in the story at last but she went on without heeding the question.

Presently the Englishman wearied of his amusement, and quitted tho neighborhood without a word of farewell or regret for his cruelty, lie was a fool, Mr. Durrant, this clever, scheming gentleman, for even from ft worldly point of view her fortune and hand would have been worth his acceptance while her devotion, her tenderness, might have won him to better thiues than the empty pursuits in which his life has been wasted. With a fair and loving wife beside him, with her children at his knee, would be not have been happier, larger-souled, and full of purer aspirations, than when living wholly for himself? When he wrecked her life, is it not possible that he also re is

Mr. Durrant shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at the speaker long and curiously, but only to shake his head, and mutter to himself:

No, no—it is impossible J" .. The Englishman returned to nls own country, his miserable dupe to her own dwelling, there to call her pride to her aid, and do her best to forget him. In this she thought she had succeeded, when, with the full consent of her guardian, she married an excellent man— also English—and come to England with her Dridegroom. She had not been a wife long, when In one of her husbands relatives, she recognised the destroyer ol her peace, and he, to his confusion, learned that the despised girl was a wealthy heiress, and of birth superior to his own. He saw tho girl who had once hung upon every word his lips breathed disdaining to know him at all, and looking with exaggerated tenderness into the eyes ofthe very man whom, of all others, he so bitterly and uryustly disliked." "Where, I ask, did you learn all this?" criea Mr. Durrant, raising himself on his elbow.

What signifies, so that I tell my tale correctly?" the nurse retorted. '\«ily as the fiend he served, this Englishman then set to work te undermine the happiness of the woman whose loss we may suppose that he regretted when it was too late."

He only sought to be friends with ber again," interposed the Invalid. "A friendship that was to be kept from the knowledge of her husband And so be carefully avoided ber presence, although be wrote to her again and again wrote to ber letters that were marvels of art. so steverly were they concocted. By hints, by sentences hair erased, by a word here, an exclamation there, be gave ber to understand that he had never ceased to love ber! that family aflkire of pert importance

h*d been the cause of ha suaden departure that his klnaman wooed her, tnowlng of his unswerving affection, and that mtM one bad treacherously kept back bis letters and OMWRMB." ''Bah! I will bear no more!" cried Mr. Durrant, "U women will be too eredaloos, the fiuilt is tbelr own."

Mrs. Smith clenched the hands that lay in ber lap, and did not immediately

mm 1 wt« jamwwr amrrj wi, «vw rT-IIlJlI fib* nurse, dropping ber what the man who forsook ber had to work, and rising In haste.

rurst «uu U|OA will H(U fchavUy opposite of hte^Sut what is this to you? I bade you read tonka.*'

"I *K»ot read," she ssiL abruptly, struggled wdoljr duty. hoarsely "btrt&fc wouldbe a fittiMf she wo«ld haw been oonfamt with her nigbt to ieli you the story of a woman's lrt, and iSST You might learn a lesson from it. «d upon ner by the warm-hearted, «nWtil vou hear it?" MMMOH man, who never dreamed

Hot be iMWWffsd. "I do not that any one was ptattiii* to «sr bla fowant to be moraUsed over." lidty. Bat when she was awromi ihat

light foil upon bis free, attboqc^ —. protested agaiMt suob a proceeding ia Ua nwt peevish aotents. "It jfcw be STrSe Kd,«o imperstivelv that be

FM&ROAT motknMM! Uh*r to

nan of whom I speak was a

(Oil'

fan*} tolrth, aM waa left an or:,i an «trhr ageDon"! bore me with mti Mwlosi mrUr«tl*r* sa those!" heintatTapled ber hmrm JoW- Ills votes gttj

li -rx

tree over credulous 1 bavs al­

ready said a#. Though at first she indignantly destroyed the letter* sent to her, she grew curious at last to learn

say

in bis behalf and so in bar folly she

and be will many a wo- ^d, believed, sod new^ tW moment knew peace of mind again I have heard enough. I you !tt

W HM» MfflNtlH WW W'WMIXW She picked «P a periodical, and began Mr. Iu*rw»t turned his bead on his pilto turnover the leaves but her eyes low.as It too sleepy to listen longer but warn fixed oa vacancy, and Jtr. Pjtr- stfll she wooton, fa the coM. measured rant soon grew irritated at thlrustUng tonesbeow«d nm aveid

Assigning to tho woeaa* to desirt,

dened her." I know the reat she drowned heraelfr cried Mr. Damust, writibing and

Br

gtosniag. "Why remind roe of such horror*? Ilasebe not sat beside me often sad often as I lay hers, looking at me abruptly. "Spe&tol with reproachful eyes, as if the fouit Raymond you bare were wholly mine? I did but try my once with him.

newer over ber. She drew a moaning from letters they were not intended to rey. How oottld know that her vi'-\ psahnate temper would oarry nxtremUMwf 1 moan oo

i«.

away, for aenred hJm now, Md he fe*§ mmm were for his be grew violently an mm who had presumeri

I pi iei

I

I t.ikl bow fhtii. far

-,» mind ''irc«»witeu^]s be 'O 1 srtiV. ni os

4

TERRB HAUTE a&TTIRDAY EVENIISE

I TRACED THIS FKMALK TO THB TOMB OF OLYMPIA."

things to me! Yen think I shall make it worth your while to bo silent but I do not fear you. There is only your word for the truth of your tale none of those letters were preserved."

Everv one of them and so saying, Mrs. Smith drew a packet from her bosom, and held it up with a significant look but he only smiled contemptuously.

So you have them I care not they were too carefully written to betray me, and the lady is dead."

Are you sure of that? There is at least one person living in Barford who can tell you that she stood in tho churchyard yonder 011 the night afler a body,

vara yonaer 011 ine nigiu uuwr uuuv, luuoim,

since to gaao at the marble monument erected to her memory by the man whoso worth, whose sincere and price less love she nover coinprchendoil until it was too late

Stunned bv these tidings, Mr. Durrant lay revolving them inhisown mind till with an effort he shook off the impression they had created.

I'll not believe it! This is a false report got up for the purpose of extorting money from ma" "Think so if you will but suppose the tale be true, rind Olympia Errington lives to revengo hersell*?" "Common sense contradicts your suggestion my clover nurse. Had Olympia lived she would have made me acquainted with the fact me—whom she loved better than her husband!"

Mrs. Smith's eyes gleamed with a strange light, and bending toward him, she hissed out words that made him tremble as he lay.

She did not go to you: she hastened to London in disguise, leaving her own clothes in tho possession ol" the poor wretch who perished in them. She made her way to your chambers, found you absent—called from the room suddenly, it appeared for on your open desk lay a half-written letter to some iriend—a letter in which the credulity of the woman you were seeking to ruin was amusingly described." "False—all false!" said Mr. Durrant, in a voice that quavered in spite of his positive tones. ''Who told you all these absurdities?"

The nurse did not answer and when he turned toward her to repeat this question, she was gone but in the chair beside his pillows, sat one whose gaze seemed to paralyze him. and wailing. "It is she—it is Olympia herself!" he crouched under the bed clothes t6 shut out the dreadful vision.

CHAPTER XXV. ,' "UNTO THIS LAST."

At an early hour on the following morning, Mr. Errington was aroused from his slumbers with the information that his kinsman bad been taken so much worse, that the doctor, when hastily summoned, had declared that he could not survive for more than a few hours. Although for many days past this event had been looked for, It was a shock to be awakened in the gloom of a wintry morning with the news that death was so near and Mr. Errington looked very grave and troubled as he obeyed the summons.

Milly Raymond had reached tho chamber before him, and for once the1 dying man seemed really grateful for her ministrations but she remembered afterwards that even while

gasping

his

thanks, his hollow eyes, in which for the first time a strange, sod terror oftbe hereafter was visible, looked away from ber to the corner into which, on willy's entrance, his nurse had retreated. *And there, while tho sands of that misspent life were slowly ebbing out, Mrs. smith, ordinarily so active aud attentive, sat silently in the background, neither speaking unless addressed, nor t^jiufying any Interest in what was pam» ing. She looked harassed and unspeakably weary. Heaven only knew what angry words, what reproaches, what prayers—answered first with sneers, then with dogged sullennew—had filled that chamber during the hours of the nbrht. Mr. Darrant waa dying as be had lived—egotistically finding excuses for all his misdeeds, and showing ho remorse for the sorrows others bad endured through his heartless levity.

Remembering how much horror, of fftfting my of6 expira Mrs* Smith kid exposed at their first interview, Milly Raymond went to where she aat, her bead supported by a hand that visibly trembled, and suggested that she could quit the room, but ber only answer waa a 4eelded rsftiaa!. ..

My place is here, and I may be wanted. Surely he will not die without maktng some atonement." 1 will send for our clergyman "answered Milly, who was rathe* to bear her say this. "Hitherto Mr. Durrant baa refuswl t» ae® him, bat aow——"

It is too late," interposed MnUimith, abraptly. "Sjieak to bfm yourself, Miss Raymond you have some little influ-

try my once with him. Bid him* if he ha** a meaning any «mseiewserany sews_of_«£«*»« msUniM—revoke the inmost will he has made." ,. "I cannot urge such a topic upon Mitt

Bid

In this awful monient." Mifly «^we«4, quietly, yet whh decision. "Bnt I CM pray for him—for all of us."

would behypocrisy te pokiuij** tUkms to liesren lor one who is dying with his soul burned by such monstrous injustice r* Mrs. Smith vehemently totted. "If not for Brrington's eafcOj for Rupettfiaake, pray tiy and prevail ^l\ from Mr* Errington ditiW

1

them both to the sufferer's aid. The last struggle bad commenced, and in a few minutes all was over. Mr. Durrant breathed his parting breath supported on tho breast of his kinsman, whose earnest ejaculations may have reached that dulled ear, and stirred that cold heart at last! for ho made an effort to press the hand in which his own clammy fingers rested, and murmured the words "Forgive—oh! forgive 1" ere he expired.

The news of Mr. Durrant's death was duly telegraphed to his solicitor, who wrote to say that he would attend at Leabanks on tho day appointed for the funeral, in order to road the deceased's

D'

t"

drawn from tho water, and DRESSED LA I will, which lie had been given te underher clothes, was laid in tho vault of tho Btand would be found in a cabinet of Krringtons. Aya, and sho has been there which he (the lawyer) had the key in 4 .t* 4L.n *1\1a mftriti MANT K4U 1/OANL T"L CT AFL FL FL OI 1 11*1(00 FL OI TLLO

his keeping. As an old friend of tho family, Mr. Tapesley added in a postscript a liopo that this document was the one he had the pleasure ©f drawing up some time since in favor of Mr. Errington. He had heard it reported that some country attorney had prepared a later one, couched in very different terms but as his deceased client had frequently altered his intentions, making aud destroying wills and codicils with every change of mood, he should continue to hope that he had done the samo in this last casu, and loft his property te those who were justly entitled to enjoy it.

A vain hope!" Mr. Errington sighed as he read the letter, and tossed it across the table for Rupert, who was sitting with him, to peruse. "Our unhap-

§erstand

kinsman was careful to make me unthat we should not profit by his death."

It we gain nothing, we lose nothing we are but as we were," said Rupert, philosophically. "True. And I thought I had not schooled myself to bear the rubs and changes of life, that I could endure to see this rich inheritance pass away from me without moro than a slight pang but I am not as 1 thought I was." "You always used to speak, sir, as if you were thoroughly content with Leabanks, and craved nothing better."

And vet, before that unfortunate hour In which ho had ventured to tell Katie how dearly he loved her, he could havo sworn that she returned his affection. The soft blush that had tinged her cheeks wbon she saw him approach, the bright smile with which she had always greeted him, and the shy but cheerful willingness she bad testified to linger with lum in the moonlight on the terrace, or in the oriel, hsd encouraged him to hope that he was not indifferent to ber. Certainly, all those tokens of good-will might have proceeded from mere sisterly kindness but Rupert hsd interpreted them in a very different manner, and was disappointed accord

young wan, perplexing him­

self with these recollections, was walking up and down the hall in a moody Mbion, Mr. Durrant's nurse carno down the principal staircase, and paused at the foet till he noticed Iter.

Rupert Errington waa a favorite with ail the servants in his father's bouse, for he gave as little trouble as possible, and waa courteous to the meanest—so courteous, that ever since the alight illness through which Mrs. Stuith had so careftiliy nursed bim, she had frequently thrown herself in bis way in order to receive bis pleasant nod and smile. He generally added a kind inquiry or two for her own health and though to-day be was so thoroughly out of sorts with the whole world that he would bin have avoided ber, he wa* too good-natured to refhae to atop to hear what aha had to say to him. ,,

Well, nurse," he began, "are you •baking off the effects of }*ur hard work yet I suppose no%j for Miss Raymond says, that after such a time of as you have just had, a couple of months' reat will be the shortest term you ought to have and we all agree with bar.**

Miss Raymond ia very kindbut though nurse Smith acknowledged r.hia, she did not speak as if alie feU any overwhelming gratitude for Miliy'e consideration.

Kind!" repeated tho unsuspecting Rupert. "She is indeed. She is one of those good creatures who are always studying every one bnt themselves. You cannot do better than follow all bor pi ascriptions," "I am going away, sir* at once, unle* there Is anything th can de for you. I should lute to d* »»»eihiog for you, Rupert, before t^sabanks, added, wistfiilly.

Bemtfine rm

eh? 1

she

For ber sake as well as my own, I shall be exceedingly grateful if you mil pot my bureau drawers In order, for I hunted them ever and over this morning for a stray scarf till I am ashamed of them. Do it at your leisure, nurse."

It. must be now.

or never: for I shall take my departure in the oeiuse of a few hours," she isaid, abruptly. "Indeed! Been recalled by the autocrats of the hospital? Don't go, nurse, till you feel fit for it. I'll write them for you, and say that we intend to keep you at

Do better still," exclaimed the woman, fixing her eyes upon his changing countenance. "Marry, and lot me have tho charge of your cnildren. I would watch over them in their babyhood so earefullvthat no harm could ever befall them 'and as they grew up, your boys should be frank and generous as yours*lf, 3'our daughters—" "Stay—stay," said Rupert, smiling, although his accents wero bitter enough. "You are drawing very pretty pictures of domestic felicity, but they don't apply to me. I shall never marry, nurse, so'if you want a situation in my household, you must wait till I am rich enough to set up a bachelor establishment, and require a housekeeper to take the superintendence of it. Do you really leave, and so soon

To-day, if possible there IB nothing for me to tio here now." Rupert put his hand in his pocket with the intention of making her a little present, but she checked him. "Not your money I could not take that a glove you have worn, or a scrap of your handwriting I will thank you for."

Why, nurse, you are quite roman tic," said Rupert, jestingly, "or else you are hinting that a testimonial of your abilities would be more to the purpose than anything else I could give you. Shall I write ene?"

He drew out his pencil, and with it a little ivory tablet,OH which Mrs. Smith's eyes fell directly.

Write your name on that," she said, "and rive it me, will you?" But Rupert shook his head.

I had it fVom my father, nurse, and so I cannot part with it but if you have a fancy for such an article, I'll buy you one the next time I go to Barford. It will n6t be much to do for a person who has done so much for me." "Mr. Rupert."said Mrs. Smith, laying her finger on his arm, and lowering ber voice to an impressive whisper, "you said something jyst now that 1 did not understand. Will yeu—remembering that even such as I may sometimes be able to givo help when least expected— will you tell me why you spoke so sadly and strangely?"

Neither do I personally," Mr. Errington answered, walking to the window and averting his face from his son's gaze, as if some thought, awakened by the discussion, em harassed him. "But you are more ambitious. I have your advancement in life to consider and— and, though I do not like to dwell upon my own wishes, yet I cannot conceal from myself that I am still youpg enough to feel that such a lonely existence as mine will bo when you leave Hncu K) UUUV win UO "rou J"" .. .. 1. -J ,. me and my wards are of age, will be alluding,but I am equally sure it doesn't neither pleasant nor good for a man. deserve explaining." Tn fact, I mav marrv again, Rupert But Mrs. Smith would not be satisfied

Rupert reddened a little. My good nurse, you should not take notice of my peevish speeches. I don't know to which particular one you are

But Rupert stayed to hear no more, with an evasion. Katie's pre lb re nee for the society of his You do not say such things, nor father had long boon so marked, that look the while, without a reason for it, Mr. Errington could not but be flattered Whv did you—so young, ^™ng, and

by it and this was the crisis to which affairs were tending. He would marry the heiress, and the disappointed young man must endure as stoically as he could the prospect of seeing himself supplanted by bis own father.

hanisome—declare that you shall never marry? Has your mother's mad act cast a blight upon your life? Oh! toll

"I had rstber not hear yon speak of her," kc Interposed, with dignity. "To me ber monbrv is sacred."

Heaven's blessing rest npon you for it I" aba murmured. "I may tall yon. though—may I not?—that I have held you in these arms moro than once."

I have never heard my fether speak of youl" Rupert exclaimed, thoughtfully. "No, be baa forgotten—quite forgotten met and who shall wonder at it? In, those days I was bleased with a fond husband and the love of a bright, happy boy, who waa all my own—so bJeasea, that when jmy troubles were at their worst,! could take

my

darlfttg to my

boeom, and forget them. And I remind you of this son said Rupert, oompaasioitateljr. iahe d«wi? Nay, do not answer the question if it tisnnn you," h* added, for she had veiled ber eyes, and her lipa grew very pale, as she compressed them. lost him years ami years ago," she waiied—lost him just when he was most precious to me. It was not my lot to see, tike more fortunate women, my boy growing *p to manhood handsome ana good, and making my heart swell daily with pride ana delight. He is lost to me. I have neither child nor hua» .band. When I think of what my life is, and what it might have been, I

impatient, and-and- but why do I

LLVL »U«V ilWUU Mil WUiilvU linv Ml Ul« Xf., shall often think of you, and what you: have just told me, poor, sad mother!"

Mrs. Smith uttered a suppressed cry, snatched his hand to kiss it passionate-' lv, and then, with her aoe hidden in ber apron, hurried awav, much to the young, man's relief or Wilfred ltayle was just riding up to the door, and might have looked astonished to see his friend receiving such homage from the middleaged, homely attendant of the late Mr. Durrant. lie did not discover till some time afterward that the ivory tablet had somehow passed from bis possession to Mrs. KuiithV

CHAPTER XXVI.

NCR8JS SMITH BIDS ADIEU TO LEA BANKS. Wilfred had oalled with a message from his uncle, who WHS one of the gen-.

i«uu u» iwu vuu tlemen invited to attend Mr. Durrant's Leabanks till you funeral, but be declined to alight, alhave had the rest you though pressed to do BO by Rupert, who require" would have been thankml for moro ill cannot stay cheerful society than his own thoughts here," she answered, afforded him. catching her breath "Surely you'll comeinsudseoMi® odd!v "and yet it Raymond and Maude!" he urged. "It will "grieve me more will be an act of charity to them both, than vou can ever for they must feel oppressed by the dullknow to go away,and ness and silence this death entails upon perhaps neverseeyou

grets included the whole household. "We'll not lose sight

of you so completely as you seem to fancy you are too valuable a personage. Everv time I have anything the matter with me, I shall cry out 'Where's Nurse Smith? Send for Nurse Smith.' and refuse to be leeched or blistered till you arrive."

u^,The areall'well,

Nonsense, nurse!" Will, awkwardly. "They'll excuse me cried Rupert,who im- not staying to pay my respects, agined that her re- if you explain that I had a pressing engarment."

I hope?"said

Is there anything the matter, Will? Have vou and Manae been quarreling again f" asked Rupert, who could not make out what induced his generally frank, easy-mannered companion to look and speak with such constraint.

Has Miss Lesden been oomplaining of me?" queried Will, flushing to his brows.

Not that I am aware of. Why should she? Is there anything more the matter between yeu tbau usual? I fancied she looked as If she had been in tears the last time you were bore. What the deuce causes two persons, who are so pleasant when apart, make themselves so disagreeable when together, is a mystery to mo."

Will bore these snappish observations, with great meekness, and was saying his adieux when Mr. Errington, who had just heard of his arrival, came to receive Sir Marcus' message himself, and insisted on taking the young man to his study, to show nim anew book that had been sent him from town by its author. While awaiting his return, Rupert sauntered into the morning-room,and Maude who sat there trifling with some lacework, asked carelessly who he had been talking to.

Only Will!" she repeated, wbon ho answered her with those words. "Has he grown more churlish than ever, that he comes and goes without vouchsafing to pay any attentions to tho ladles of your house

Will la with my father, and really, Maude, you provoked me to tell yon that if he were as rudely treated by Miss Raymond and your sister as he always Is by you, be would have a good reason for 'never entering this house at all."

Dll he ask you to administer this lecture?" Maude demanded, with flaming cheeks.

Is it likely that he would? He bears his persecution admirably, and rarely permits it to ruffle him." "But he has been saying—that is, hinting—to you something about me, I am sure of it!" "Not a word, on my honor: and I should not have ventured this niondly remonstrance if I did not feel sure from his manner that there is- something wrong."

Oh! I can comprehend now what ails himand Maude frowned and tossed her head with a vexed look. "He has been betrayed into—into treating me too civilly."

Indeed! I never dreamed of hearing you say that," Rupert Interposed. "For Wilfred Ha3rle to be accused of an excess of politeness is something extraordinary, and sounds oddly from your lips."

I mean that be feels he took too much trouble about me that snowy night," Maude explained, her eyes drooping and face crimsoning again "and he is afraid that I shall presume upon the little attentions his highness then vouchsafed to me: but ho may make himself quite easy I shall be careful not to put myself in the way of such —that is, I shall take care never to get into a similar dilemma."

But Rupert now broke from her in And yet you must know as well as Kreat displeasure. I do that old Will is always actuated by You may moan vroll, nurse, but you the best and kindest intentions, his are asking questions I am not inclined zealous advocate urged. to answer, and making remarks to which Hem!» said Maude,

I don't choose to listen. Good-morn- eyes of bora smiling with1 mirth. ing I wish you a pleasant journey back And I don't know why you always to town will contrive to misunderstand him,"

But she followed him to the outer Rupert went on. all unoonscioas that his do or it he he a to a it or ha go a to a tho conversation. certain little parting scene of which he

Have I offended you. Mr. Rupert?" knew nothing. she inquired, with a degree of humility "There Is no misconception on my that partially disarmed his wrath. part this time, she retorted. Mr. "Alittle,'f he frankly answered "but Hay le's wishes are patent enough. Ho I am quite willing to beliove that you 1s desirous of avoiding me for the rendld not mean It so shake hands and sons I have already mentioned. He good-bye." thinks that such a forward, frivolous

Again be turned from ber with a gee- girl as he considers me would be sure to ture intended "1to imply that the inter- found some foolish notion or other upon view waa over, but Mm, Smith contln- his good-nature, and I wiU*h?^i,„™ ued to linger near, with a yearning look that for once it is he who is mistaken. In ber dark eyee that must have moved It was to prove the sincerity of this rehis pity had he seen it. solve that, as soon as Wilfred H^le "Mr. Rupert," she said, at last—and tered the room, she took the inlHatlve. he started, for he bad been gazing out and before he could open his lips, naa bidden him a gay good-morrow, asked politely after Sir tfarops,.and than^un away on pretence of finding Miss Raymond. ifo fault could be found with her manner, which waa more gracious to the young man than ordinary yet it was marked with such an utter ignoring of anything that might have gone before, that the vainest must have felt the impossibility of presuming upon it.

witng

at the snowy landscape till he nad ftdlen into a reverie—"I have more excuse for my impertinence than you imagine, knew—that is, I have seen your

those

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Perhaps Will, seeing that no apology would Hastened to if he attempted to offer one, felt relieved that It was so, for he no longer talked of being in haste, but consented to stay to luncheon, ana even lingered after the meal was over, sometimes with Rupert, sometimes In conversation with Katie and Mr. Errington, until the first dinner-bell rang.

Maufle, however, he saw no more, until, while mounting his horse to ride away, he caught a glimpse of her dainty figure slowly descending the wide staircase* She was robed in a striped silkblack and white—with not an ornament upon it, save the bunch of scarlet geranium she had carelessly fastened her bosom, and her hair, which sbe was fond of torturing into ever feshion that came ue, had for once been permitted to 1 its natural ripples over her white ere, a knot of black ribbon looping it bade from her face, Had she any conception that in tho eyes of the fash-ion-haCing Will this simplicity gave a charm to ber appearance he had never found in it before?

Milly Ravmond cam* to preside at the dinner-tabfe, with a less ierene smile on her pleasant face than It generally wore. Several circumstances Bad conspired a

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