Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 27, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 January 1875 — Page 6

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THE MAlLi

A Paper

for thk

People.}^

A 1)1 KU

Witli thoughts too deep to tell. t)ne whose lovr more steadfast grew ,'Mid clouds and tears!

Adieu, Adieu 1

Let gentle dreams arise, When thou art far from me— "j Of all the "Counsel sweet" S That I havesliared with thee "Think of me still as when we

two

Mingled sweet thoughts. Adieu, Adieu!

Think of the heart of love 'That ever sprang to meet Thy slightest wish, we deemed r# No earthly Joy so sweet, tAs when on spirit wings it flew, To speak with thine!

Adieu, Adieu!

"One Too Many.'l^

BY CHRISTIAN R&ID.

[iuMor»»/ Valerie Aylmer Jioss Beverley's Pledge," etcJ

CHAPTER IV.

Tlte first tangible thought that came to Esther was the recollection of ber own words to Hortense the night before:

Besides yourself, there is no one whose advioe I can ask." She had spoken almost unconsciously, but it was the simple, the now almost appalling, truth. She stood quite alone, and at this crisis of her life there was no one to whom she could appeal for assistance or counsel. After ber father's death, Eric had been all that remained to her. Eric was now the last person in the world to whom she could go. Failing him, she had of 'late learned to lean upon Hortense now this prop was also struck away,

The poor child felt bewildered. Mrs Ralston sho know from close observation to be little more than a pleasant, well-bred nonentity in her own household to her, therefore, it would be worse than useless to apply Icr any practical advice or active mtarferenoe. "She would only refsr everything to Mr. Deverell," thought Esther, and then suddenly her heart leaped up in her throat. Mr. Deverell! The name came to her almost like an inspiration. Why not go to Mr. Deverell himself? He had been her father's friend he had been generouJy kind to herself she felt sure tnat he woul*! not misunderstand her. Why not, then, go to him and ask the help which she could not ask from anyone else, and which, indeed, no one besides himself was able to render? will go," she thought. and yet, even as she. thought it, she shrank back. The remembrance of his engagement to Hor tense suddenly came to her with the force of a shock. It was not only guardian, but a lover, nay, even a betrothed husband, to whom sho would speak. She could not do it, she thought —it was impossible. Yet that thrill of passion in Uortense's voice—that thrill which told so much—came again to her ears, and again she saw Eric's frank, handsome face, the face she loved so well, as it had looked when he said, "Such hopes as, despite your refusal, made me happy until lately."

What can Ido? oh, what can I do?" thought the poor child, smiting her frail, burning hands togethor. "Even if I tell Erie that his 'duty' does not bind him to me, will not Hortense still be bound to Mr. Devferell? Ah, if he would only be generous enough to re lease her! She does not love him—he must know that and even if ho loves her, what does one heart matter?" thought the unconscious philosopher, ignoring, with pathetic fatalism, the heart so sadly burning and throbbing in her own breast. But still sho could not resolve to fbee Mr. Deverell and ask this sacrifice of him. Nature had made her timid, and sickness more timid still besides which, sho stood in great awe of the quiet, reserved-lawyer. "Ah! why am I such a eoward?" she thought, mournfully. But courage did not come at her bidding. On the contrary, it seemed to sink to a lowerand lower ebb. "It is because I am thinking of myself!" she cried out suddenly to the silent flowers wrapt in their own sweetness.

Ah, did not papa use to hay,4Who forgets himself, forgets fear'? Why do I think of myself? Why do I not think only of those who are so dear to me?"

But such questions are more easily asked than answered, and still the terriblo other question remained, 'What would Mr. Deverell think of' her?' and, more important still, what would he think of llortense? Would he be harsh and stern, as his face sometimes looked? Poor Esther was almost ready to rush to ^fcer «wn room and take refuge in tears and inaction, when who should appear walking slowly down the conservatory, -with his eyes absently bent en ttie floor =-and the fragrant shrubs brushing him unheeded, but the ol^octof her thoughts *sMr. Deverell? V* He had escaped from the lights and the throng of Mrs. Raiston's drawingrooms to enjoy one qoiet moment to .^himself, and his thoughts were deep on some intricate point of law, when a small figure, that looked almost eerie in the dim light, came gliding forward, jf^'and a soft, trembling voice said,

Mr. Deverell, if you please, I should

t» sj*»ak

to you."

Mr. Deverell gave a start, and waked in a moment from abstraction to reality. Mis* French!" he said, in surprise. Then, vHth a smile, "So you are down, after all? I hope yon arc better?"

Yes,

much

bettor," Esther answered,

without thinking in the least what she was saying. "But ft was nothing about mysel& At least, if you please, I should Uke t« speak tovou.'

I shall be very glad to listen," said Mr. HevcreM, still smiling. "Will you speak here, or shall we go up stairs to the library?" he added, after

sure it is prudent for you be out of bed "Oh, perfectly prudent," said Esther, feeling the while

ir she were on the very verge of unconsciousness, yet pushing the gathering darkness from her by a strong effort of will. "Give me five minutes," she added, looking up at him. "Then I—1 shall be more lHte myself."

TO. T. W.O.

Friend ir my Ueurt, atlleu.

God

keep

thein his care!

iteoelve this parting sigh! Believe this liarting prayer! ,-f And do not (julle forget the few Slight hopes we've known,

Adieu, Adieu!

'Remember vanished hours kie® memory softly dwell On oue wl»ott»ii»a» of thee,

As many minutes as you nlease," he answered, kindly. "Shall I get you a glass of wins?"

She shook her head, and after that he said nothing more. but only sat down quietly and waited uutil she wan readv to speak. Twice the length of time which ahe had asked elapsed beforo she found strength or oourage for the venture before her. It was only when Mr. Deverell, surprised at her long silence, at last turned his gage from the glowing coals to her face, that he found the dark eyes fastened on him with an intenseness which absolutely startled him. "Pardon me," she said, quickly, as she caught his

f'lanoe.

moment,

li seeing that she hesitatod and was silent. -m .« chu wo gn up stairs without passing through thtre? she asked, pointing to l^tho drawing-room*, "I had Hither nobody saw me.**

Nobody shall see you," hoanswered, though he looked a littlo surprised. (\u*e this way."

He tlie way through into tl*» optsn air. She found

"I did not mean to

rude, I was staring at vou, was I not?" You are looking at me as if you were studying me," said he, smiling slightly.

:'t9

Morton Jfouae,"

And since my lace cannot possibly make a very interesting study for a young lady I was a little surprised."

But your face is a very interesting study to me," sho said, quickly. "Looking at it, I have tried to judgu whether or not I shall speak to you as I came here resolv ed to do and"—a slight pausi —"and I have read a great deal which has made my resolution tremble in the bal -WM ance."

What have you read said he. looking a little amused, and also a little curious.

Shall I tell you?" she asked, quickly. "May I tell you "Tell me? Certainly," he answered.

I shall be interested to hear how near you have come to a true estimate of my character."

Papa used to say that I read character very well," she said. "Most artists do, I think and I," drawing herself up with very pretty pride, "am an artist. If I am not mistaken, y©u will forgive ine, will you not

Forgive you Can you doubt it I should be ungrateful if I doubted your kindness in anything," she said, with a quiver of feeling in her voice.

It is because you have Men such a true generous friend to me in my first great trouble that I have thought of turning to yon in the second which has come to me."

Has a second come to yon asked he, quickly, interest flashing into his face and into his eyes. "You were right to come to me if so—more than right, indeed. I am your father's representative. You cannot doubt that if ne had been able to do so ho would have left vou to my care, and therefore yon should come to me as you would have gone to him."

Ah! but I knew him,""said she, in a tone of unconscious pathos. And you do not know me

She shook her head, smiling faintly. What! not even after you nave studied my face?" said ho, smiling in turn. "Surelv you don't mean to reflect so much discredit on y»ur powers of observation and judgment?"

It is your face that has made me hesitate," she said. "Now you look kind, but a little while ago, when you were not thinking of me, you looked as if you might be very stern."

Was anybody ever stern to you he asked, agleam of tenderness in his eyes, atone of tenderness in his voice, sucli as she had never imagined could possibly dwell in either. "Do you know that in looking at you I often think of your royal namesake, the Jewish queen of Persia? Why do you start? Has anybody ever told you so before? Well, it only proves how right I am. If she had your eyes—and I fancy sho had—it was no wonder the king said to her, 'What wilt thou, Queen Esther? what is thy request? If thou wilt even ask one-half of the kingdom, it shall be given to thee.' Now," smiling a little, "I have not a kingdom to divide with you, but, believe me, there is nothing I do possess that I would not freely give. Therefore O Queen Esther, speak without fear."

Queen Esther drew in ber breath a little, her dark eyes expanding larger and brighter, half from resolution, half from sheer amazement. She bad never heard Mr. Deverell speak like this before, for his very kindness had worn a cloak of extreme reserve, but the emergency ent her courage. It seemed as if suddenly ••Strength came to her that equalled her desire and being bidden to speak without, fear, she cast fear aside and spoke:

Mr. Deverell, will you forgive me if

I speak of something which concerns you very nearly? Will you forgive me," as he glanced at her with quick inspei ment to Hortense?"

My engagement to Miss Ralston is not a mystery," said Mr. Deverell, with very stately quietude, looking the while, however, as tnuoh astonished as a wellbred man ever permits himself to appear. "If you have a fancy to discuss it, therefore, I shall not bo offended though," smiling slightly, "I may be surprised."

You may be offended at what I wish to sav," answered Esther, feeling her throat grow hot and parched. "If I had any one elso to whom to go, I should not come to. you at least, not in this way," ahe went on. desperately. "But I have no one else and—and if I thought you would not be hard on Hortense, I should not care what you thought of tue." "Hard on Hortense!" repeated Mr. Deverell, opening his keen gray eyes in additional astonishment. Then he looked closely at her, ami began to fear that her head was not quite right. "My dear young lady, he said, "you are speaking very strangely. VVill you be kind enough to explain yourself?'' "I will in a uioinpnt" said Esthei, with tl»* eattrtftrMOfnelperation. seeing that she had gtma too tur to turn back.

But if vou jvill allow me, I should, like to-speak tifst t»f myself. You have

a sum'1 plat of green sward, ^, which they turned into another doorj Deverell, who, having readied the acme passed through the dining-room, along of astonishment, seenied resigned to the well-known hall, up a private stair- anything he might hea*. ease, and were safely within the library.! "Then if you ho,ve heard that," said This room, with its shaded light, its low fojther, "you are in a poslUon to advise carved book-eases and deep chairx, was me what I should do w|»eui learn, as I a familiar and favorite resort of Esther's, hnrr leafnt^l, that fUfienrilltf'not lova me, She gave a sigh of relief as she entered j"but soino one else.'fit now, knowing thai here at least she Has he dared to tell you so?" jasked. was secure from the presence of thdsejMr. Deverell, a sndden flush monuting whom sho most dreaded to meet. to his brow, a sndden gleam of indigntf-

Sit down," said Mr Deverell, draw-' tion coming into bis eyes. ng a chair for her near the glowing No," answered she, with, pathetic grate. "Yon look very pale. Ana you quietnoss think that it would 1«yo

\wm

This is certainly a singular story," he said, with something—a sort of constrained, metallic ring, it seemed to her —in his voice. "And now may I ask why you have told it to me

To whom else should I have told it?" sho asked. "You are Uortense's guardian as well as Uortense's betrothed, and I thought that in either character you would dosire above all things to secure her happiness." "To secure her happiness?" he repeated. "It is of her happiness, then, that you are thinking." "I am afraid I was thinking still more of Eric's," said Esther, flushing a little.

He turned quickly at that and looked at her—looked with a glance which no one conscious ef the least deceit or double-dealing could have supported for a moment. But Esther, unconscious even of the suspicion of these things, met it calmly. The delicate tint on her face did not deepen, the soft dark eyes did not droop.

Forgive me,"

she said, gently,

THI SCENE WAVERED

been kinder if he had done so. But he thought differently. He thought of my loiieuuess, and he meant, ho still means, to do his duty as he conceives it to be. He has no idea how mistaken such kindness would prove—liow any pain," with a sudden ring of passion in her voice, would be better than the pain of learning too late that he had married me firom pity, not for love."

And what do you mean to do asked Mr. Deverell, trying to keep out of his voice the sympathy which he felt as if it would be almost an insult to betray. "Is there more than one thing for me to do?" she asked, looking at him with a very brave and sturdy resolution in her eyes. I leave It to you, Mr. Deverell: is there more than one thing for to

No," he said, quickly. "I speak to you as I might to my «wn sister when I say that there is but one thing for you to ao. Regard for your own dignity makes it incumbent on you to release at once the man whose heart has wandered from you."

Would you say that under any circumstances?" I should certainly say that under any circumstances."

Then," said she, leaning forward, with something shining on her face and in her eyes he did not understand, "I call upon you to fulfil your own counsel. If this course is incumbent on a woman, is it not doubly incumbent on a man It is by your own words, Mr. Deverell, that I venture to ask you to release Hortense from an engagement which can only fetter her, since she loves not you, but another man."

Mr. Deverell certainly had not expected this culmination, and still less had he expected his opinion to be turned so completely against himself. For one moment ho stared in uncontrollable amazement, the suspicion that Esther was distraught coming again to his mind then stern anger, for which she had not been entirely unprepared, came into his face and into his voico.

Excuso me," he said, coldly, "but I scarcely understand the appeal which you are good enough to address to me. Ono thing is certain, however—that you have taken a most unwarrantable liberty with Miss Ralston's name, unless you can at once substantiate your last assertion."

I can do so at once," Esther answered, gravely. Then she told him, relating it as simply as a tale could be uttered, the scene she had so unwillingly overheard, in the conservatory. That she amazed her listener there was little room to doubt. That she moved him also she could see, though he was a man well trained in habits ef self-control. After the first keen glance which he gave when sho began to speak, he did not again turu bis face toward ber, but sat with his eyes riveted on the fire, making no gesture, uttering no sound, until the last vibration of her voice died away. Then thore was a pause—a pause during which Esther felt her heart sinking like load—before he spoke, still without looking at her.

"if

have thought torf little ot you. Hut I could tbitiK Of nothing elie op Bave what I have done."

Then be held ,ont his hand suddenly and wwrnilv. v' You have done right, entirely right," he whrKi where cowardice alid (foeeft go hand In hand, ft Is something to fitKl one person brave enough to sptfft tl# Willi as you have spoken it. it is I who should ask you to pardon me tliat, for a moment, I thouuht.you inighf bq ajseaking ia your own Interest."

He uttered this impulsively, but he was sorrv that ho had done so when be saw tho look 4 l«dned astonishment 'whldli caitie Into hef eye*. Yet she did not draw herself up in resentment, is be hulf expected she only looked at him with a very sadness in her glance. "To serve mv own iHtcre^t?" she re«"i'eaimt)*- Uave been doing

Wnf\H%K*r. Deverell.

At least," with a slight ring ot pathos in, ber voice,

f"if

the interests of those

wUbi# lluvefiHl f$ I cannot be saitl tft ftostsfea afiy." You liave come to me, thr u, to plead

"No. f-e»nic simply to tell you a fact

AND GREW DIM. which I thought ought to know. Your love for Honensc will plead for her better than I can."

You take too much for granted," said he, dryly. "My regard for Hortense—as her guardian, at least, I am supposed to have such a thing, am I not may plead for her real and practical interests as opposed to her visionary and romantic ones. Besides, I am not at all sure that she would not entirely disavow all such desires as those which you impute to her. Miss Ralston is in very great measure a woman of the world, and it is one thing for a woman of the world to flirt with a handsome young artist, but quite another thing to think of marrying him."

He spoke with the keen sarcasm so familiar to the men and women of his own set—men and women accustomed to look at human life and human motives through just such glasses—but he was not prepared for the change which his words brought over Esther's face. It was a change eloquent of surprise, and, in a certain degree, of scorn. Almost unconsciously, as it were, she rose to her feet

If this is what you think of the woman whom you are to marry," she said, if this is how you feel toward her, I see indeed, Mr. Deverell, that I made a great mistake when I came to you."

There was the dignity of absolute rebuko in her tone and in her manner—a dignity which sat so quaintly yet so gracefully on her childlike face that icharmed instead of angering the man to whom she spoke. "Stay!" he said, as she was turmng to leave the room. "Pon't go yet—den't, as I told you a minute or two ago, take too much for granted. It is a very bad habit. Because I do not regard this matter very seriously as regards Hortense, it does not follow that I do not ret gard it very seriously as regards you. Wait, and let us speak of that." "There is nothing to be said about me," sho answered, quietly, turning round, but declining by a gesture to resume her seat. "Nothing which I bave heard to-night has made any change in my life—at least no immediate change. Eventually, perhaps, I—I might have let Eric sacnfico himself to me. but I never meant that he should do it now. Even when I thought he loved nn best of all, I mean—I did not intend to make myself a clog on his life's effoit. Even then I would have died first."

You mean that you did not intend to marry him?" asked Mr.Devertll, look* ing intently into the resolute young face.

Yes, I mean that," she answered, firmly. "I told him so when he first came yesterday. I intended to tell him so again to-night. Save that it changes somewhat the color of my future, what I have heard to-night does net affect me at all. It leaves my present altogether untouched."

Yet he told me you were engaged to him," said Mr. Deverell, quickly. So I was, in a manner," she answered, quietly, clasping her bands together, but otherwise betraying pain in neither tone nor gesture. "It was not enough of an engajpment to throw any dishonor on his having spoken to Hortense io Munich," she went on, hastily, eager to defend him even before a charge was made. "He was always more like a brother to me than—than like a lover. But he owed everything to papa, and so he thought it his duty to come and claim me." "You allowed the claim," said the lawyer, gently. "Yes," she said, almost in a whisper, while a crimson flush burned suddenly on her check. She understood so well what he meant—she understood that his words signified, "But you loved this man who does not love yon"—that for a moment she could not speak. Then sho lifted her eyes and looked at him with more pride than he had yet seen hor dlsplav. "I do not deny that, this is a great blow to me," she said, quietly. "1 do not deny that t« one who stands so utterly alone as I do the thought of Eric's love has leen very gratefti). Bnt you must not think that discovering his love for Hortense has broken or will break mv heart. Since it did not break a month ago," she went on, sadly, "it islikelv to survive anything else which Clod may send. Believe me, I should never have troubled you for my own sake." "You come to me, then, for the sake of this pair of lovers who have wronged both you and me "Tnev have not wronged me, she fcald, "I'thought I told you that. And oh, Mr. Deverell, how foebiy and poorly I must have repeated tfhat I heard if you think they have wronged

Whether Hortense loves vmi ot at least she has been true tc

?ihave

you! not, ... Don't, oh don't make me feel that I done her harm instead of good by coming to you! Don't make me regret having trusted yon with that whlob qhance trusted to ine 1"

yon.

She came a step neair£ and still clasping her hands like a pictured saint, looked up at him with passionately pleading eye*. "Don't make mc reel as if I had injured them," she said. "Don make me de?pise myself for having l»een not only a spy, but a tale-bearer ae well."

How can you wrong yourself by saying sueh things?" he asked, almost angrily. "And do you think that I am likely to play the part of either the betrayed lover or the Outraged guardian of a melodrama that you feel it necessary to plead like this? It Is not for me to blame Hortense because she promised to marry a man whom she did not love," he went on, with a short, quick sigh—a sigh that Esther fancied baa something of self-contempt in it "I,thought I was doing the best fer her. but it seems I came very near doing the worst. Poor child!"

He said the last words in a lower tone —a tone of sudden compassion—and then was silent for a minute. Th& girl standing in front of him kept her eyes fastened intently on his face during this miuute, scanning it bo eagerly tbift she scarcely dared to breathe. An instinct told her that the decision plainly trembling in the balance would prove-an important one. Through the sick pain which seemed stationary at her heart, which had not lifted since that first great darkness came over her in the conservatory, a throb of unselfish Joy stirred when he raised his eyes at last with something like a smile in them.

Do you think that I have been tardy" in fulfilling my promise?" he said— "that, having bidden you ask, I, on my part, have failed to give? But one needs time to realize a sudden and utterly unexpected revelatien: and then I have more to consider tliau you can possibly know or imagine. Will you grant me a little time for this, and will you trust me to do the best I can for

"Yes," said Esther, gratefully, almost joyfully "I trust you perfectly, and I hope you will pardon me that, I should have doubted you even for a moment. I know you will be as kind and generous as—as you have the opportunity to be."

I will do the best I can," he said, with the reserve of a man who saw many obstacles which her eager fancy overlooked or ignored. "I can promise no more than that—indeed, I do not promise that much without conditions," he went on, gravely. "If I lend my aid to rob you of the protector whom Fate has given you, you, on your part, must promise to let me take, not his place indeed"—with a slight accent of pathos which she did not understand—"but the place of him who was taken from you fast month, who would have certainly commended you to me had he been able to do so. Esther," as she drew back, "my poor child, are yon too proud to owe a shelter for your fragile youth to yeur father's friend

Have I not proved the contrary?" she asked, gently. "Have I not accepted freely what was given freely? But I am not so fragile or so young that I cannot work for myBelf, or that I need be indebted for shelter even to the generous kindness of my father's friend. We will speak of this hereafter," she went on, looking at him with her sweet dark eyes. "I am sure you will agree with me when I tell you what I wish to do: but I—I cannot talk of it to-night."

I fear you have talked too much already," he said, looking at the glow of fever and excitement on her face. "1 should not have allowed it. I fear you will be ill again. You must go tooed at once, ana remember that you have laid vour burden on my shoulders. Remember that you trust everything to me, and that you may go to sleep like a child."

You are very good," sho said, smiling. Then she held out ber hand with a half-deprecating gesture. "I have seemed to think so little of you," she said "I have seemed to rate your pain less than that of any one else. Can you forgive me?"

You have rated it more than it deserves," he answered, flushing, "Perhaps 3*ou would think very poorly of me, Esther, if I were to tell you how little I have felt anything save the sting— and a very unpleasant sting it is^—oi misplaced trust. Nevertheless," clasping eagerly the hot little hand she gave, "try to think as well of me as you can, for "God knows your opinion is worth very much to me."

I have never thought anything but the best of you since I knew you," she answered, softly, "and this would be a strange timetooegin to think otherwise. I am very, very glad that I have not pained you, as I feared I should, but vou mrn-t not talk of misplaced trust in Hortense. She has been as true as StG^la"

You are true as steel," he said, smiling into tho flushed, eager face. "But 1 must not keep you longer. Goodnight."

She echoed the salutation and when he had accompanied her to the door and watched the slight figure "and black dress out of sight as site mounted the staircase, he closed it softly, and returning to the fire, sat down with a tumult of thought to keep him company such as it is not likely he had known before in many a long year.

But for Esther another and even a sharper ordeal was in store. As she traversed the softly-carpeted corridor leading to her chamber, and felt the fictitious strength of excitement dying down, it was a relief to think how near was a haven of reftige and rest but when she reached the mmiliar door and opening it entered with a slow step of utter exhaustion, it was to face Hortense Ralston, who sat in a low chair at one side of the fire.

Hortense!" said Esther, with a start. Then, after a moment, "I did not expect to find vou here. I—I thought you were down stairs with your friends."

Did you said Hortense, in a quick, scornful voice, which seomed scarcely to

retain

may I ask where you have

been

all this

time I have been in the library," answered Esther, coming forward and sinking into a chair. In a moment she saw that something waa wrong. The first accent of Miss Ralston's voice, the first glance at her face, told this plainly, but she felt too giddy and faint, too physically unstrung, to grasp at a causo for a visible effect. "I was not well enough to come into the drawing-room," she added, wearily—it sounded almost indifferently—after a minute's pause. "Not even into the oonscrvatory?" asked Hortense's cold, tpenchant voicc.

And it waa these words, 'uttered in such a tone, which had the reviving power of a shower-bath to Esther's sinking energies. She started and looked at the cold, haughty face, the scornful, brilliant eyes, opposite her. Then all in a second, as it

were,

a knowledge ot

the emergency came to her, nml wanted her to rouse herself and tighten up the armor which a miuute beforo she had been ready to drop. Poor little tired warrior! Her palfc face and weary eye® might havte pleaded for her if Miss Ralston had not

been

far too indignantly

them.

don't understand yJ^» ®*"d using the words trothfully (for she was indeed sorely puzzled), and not as a re as on

But it was in the latttcr senso that Hortense construed them. Don't trouble yourself to deny the feet." she said, if possible more scornfully than before, "for unluckily you left sufficient evidence of your presence behind vou. Mr. Byrne lound tins just, under tfie lemon true."

She laid "this" down with a sharp click on a little stand near her hand, and Esther saw that it was one of a pair of jet bands which Mrs. Ralston bad pressed upon her only that morning, like St. Agnes' fetters, they were too large for the delicate wrists which thev were meant to encircle, and bad slipped readily over the tiny lissome bands# Glancing from the bracelet to the con' teinptuoua face above it, Esther took in th* situation at a glance.

I had no intention of denyingthat 1 was in the conservatory," she said quietly. "Why should I do so It was a very simple chance which took me th re.' "Was it a very simple chance which kept you thore—for you must bavo been there when Eric Byrne aid I went ta look for you?" demanded Hortense, impetuously. "You cannot deny it. You know you were there. You know that you heard all'that we said. Oh, Esther," suddeuly changing from bitter accusar tion to passionate reproach, "how could you treat me so?"

How have I treated you?" asked Es ther, utterly confounded. "I do no, understand what I have done. I do not comprehend how I have injured Eric yourself."

Hortense looked at her hotly, though already the lightnings of her eyes began to be quonchod by the rising tears—passionate, scorching tears of disappointment, regret and keen anger.

Was it no injury to either of us when you listened secretly to some foolish words, foolishly, but God knows, not dishonorably spoken?" she asked. "Was it no injury when you went—you Esther —and repeated those sanio words to Mr. Deverell within an hour after they had been uttered?"

Esther started, and it was now heir time to look up with something like It gleam of indignation in hor eyes. "You charge me with listening secretly," she said. "That is easy enough to answer, and I will answer it in a moment bow is it, if you have not listoned secretly, that you can know the subjeet of my conversation with Mr. Dovereil?"

I will tell you how," Hortense answered haughtily. "When we entered the drawing room after dinner, mamma said that you had intended to come down. and suggested that Eric and I had betfor yot

you

We looked for you and called you, but you neither appeared nor answered us, and aftera few words, which it is impossible for any one to regret more than 1 do, we returned to the drawing room. It was probably half an hour afterward thatheoame to me and told me that, having sent a message to you by one the maids, she had reported your roofe unoccupied, and had further asserted that you came down stairs while we wen at dinner. At this be wont again t» th conservatory to look for you, fearing that you might have faiuteu from weakness, and behind the lemon tree he found this band. Ho at once brought i' to me and asked me if it was yours. recognized it, but I laughed to scorn the faintest suggestion that you had overheard our conversation, it was impossible, I said, and oh, Esther, I felt as if it was impossible you could havo don such a thing! You had been there, of* course, but you had certainly left before we came front dinner, I said and then I proposed that wc should go to th library, where I thought it prooablo you had taken refuge to wait for him. Wo went." She paused a moment, made motion as if to swallow something ii her throat, then went on quickly, an apparently with nn effort: "When opened the door, we found Mr. Doverel and yourself alone in tho room. Neitheof you perceived us. You were speak ing, he listening and as we stood there for one minute, wo heard you repeating word for word all that we said in tin conservatory an hour before. But,' flashing again a glance of haughty scor out of her eyes, "do not imagine that listened as you had done. As soon as recovered my senses, I closed tho dootand then I came here to wait for you." "And Eric?", cried Esther, starting forward eagerly. "My poor boy! Dil vou say nothing to him Oh, Hortense had you tho heart to leave him the without one word of hope or com fort?"

Are you mad asked Hortense, vided betwixt auger and astonishment "What is Eric Byrno to me that I shoul speak words of hope and comfort to hin/i I said to him, as well as I remember, 'You see what mischief your presumptuous folly has worked,' and then I leti him."

Left him like that said Esther. horrible blank feeling of dismay car over her. If this was indeed truth—if Eric's lovo was to Ilorteii' only "presumptuous folly," what ty she done? Sho grew absolutely dizzy with the thought of what mischief sli«* had worked, if this was tho end.

Hortense," she said, trembling at* over, "is this truo Do you indeed cai nothing for Eric? I—I was so Buro yo did, that I fear I have mado Mr. Dever ell think so too. Hortense,! Oh, forgive me if I have worked barm instead oi good for you!" "HarmI You have worked nothin bnt harm!" cried Hortense, almost sui focated with angry emotion. "Hodared you, oh, how dared you do it How darea you go to Mr. Deverell, take it for granted that I, Horten* Ralston, cared anything for a presumi tlous painter like this lover of yours

Hortense!" cried Esther, in atone almost startling indignation, but then she stopped and recovered herself. "Un leas I am more wrong than I can eve in all that I havo

myself and kno

atone of herself in It. "And

believi •Af

seei

vou, you will recrret the*

words ev^fcno're deeply than I feel then •ent on, with a hot flush

"ffi'

h9wei

now," 8h _.

her cheeks. I acknowledge however that I deserve your reproaches with gard to Mr. Deverell. I had no right interfere or take mv own rash conclu slons for truth. But surely I have no done you irreparable harm. Surely on. word from you will set everything rig! with ono

so Just

and generous as ho iw.

"You are very kind," said Hortensn bitterlv, "but fancy you have- done vour work so well that you can afford Jrive mo permission to *|eak not ow but many words. Da not think thai am blind," she went on, almost fierce! ••Do not think that I do not understand exactly why you went to him with story which any other woman woul' have buried hi her own breast."

I went to him that I might enabl. hi in te-serva you,'! said ltlfcthei\ simply "What other motive could 1 havo had'.'

You could have had, you did' ha\ the motive of working on his comp sion for yourself, while you disintere^ odly bonded over your poqnilcss, struK irliug artist to me," said the other, in tlx sauiO hard, bfttcr voice with which shj had *prtken before. "God help me. f4ie cried out passionately. "Mamnii told me yesterday that she had learn 1 suspected something oi this but in. trust fn vou wns

perfect,

absolutely re

fect, I had grown to love deaHy,Oh, so dearly! have doubted an angel frora Heaven a. vou, until I saw anf heard yourlreach ety With my o* eyes and with my ow oars,''.

Hrtens%":said

Esther

ayain, in

[po-Tiscr.n ox sevjewtu I AOE-1