f)‘_' ' & v rti‘t".r . - f’i‘a‘fi il‘§,\.3f‘wfi‘= .34.. 3:1,;T‘fm ‘gs .g v. . trouble yourself to again apply here for work. We don’t care to haVe mischief-makt rs and scandal-workers in this establisiimcnt.” The girl turned red wit h anger, sprung to her feet and opened her mouth as though about to reply, but the flu hing eyes of the foreman were upon her, and he was quick to assume the 0f- fensive. “ ‘1,_ “ Now don't say anything ugly, or you may be sorry for it. You khOw the rules here; no talkinguallowed, and, least of all,such mischief- making talk as you have indulged In. I don t want to report you, as it_is y cur last day, but I will not submit to any insoleme. The girl hesitated for a moment; then curb ing her temper with a great effort, she turned upon her heel with a contemptuoussniff and a disdainful tom of the head. She did not dare to give vent to the angry welds Which burned upon her tongue. for she was only a poor girl, greatly in need of money, an l could not afford to risk the loss of any part of her wages. 0 d VValaker had been known to fine his employés heavily for very slight infractions of his rules —flncd them and kept the money ! Just then the whistle sounded, the signal for stopping Wb'rk: all the girls quitted the tables, exchanging significant glance~~ as they did so. i The little incident which had just occurred only confirmed the opinion which they had pre» vioiisly entertained. that the new comer was the first favorite in that establish . cut. The foreman tvok advantage of the move- ment to t- eak to Miss Leigh. “ Mr. alaker wishes you would haw the kindness to come in last for your money, as he Wants to speak to you. and he Will not be able to do so until the others are gone.” “It has come at last.” thought the girl to her- self.. “He is Ofl'ended at the way in which I haveworked and wishes to scold and perhaps fine me when he discharges me.” Little could she afford to lose any of her wages, just then, and in spite of her attempt to appear unconcerned. an anXious expresSion came over her face as she nodded and turned away to get her things. ' _ S e purposely delayed in puttin them on, so t at all of the girls were out of t e room by the time she was ready. . _ Young Mr. Walaker was lingering near the door, and as she passed him with a bow and a sweet “ Good night, sir,” he said, hastily: “Gold amounts to something in this world, but it isn’t everything; just remember that; ' and don’t for at too, that there never was a woman who so d herself yet who did not live to re ent'of the bargain!” ' trange words at which Esther Leigh mar- veled. CHAPTER IV. A COOL PROPOSITION. IF she had had any idea. of asking him to ex- plain W at he meant. be frustrated it by walk- ing away; so she went into the ofllce where the master of the establishment, having finished giving the girls their money—it was his boast that he always handled his own cash—was wait- ing for her. “The foreman gave you my message, I sup— pose i” he said, nodding to her familiarly, while a smi.e appeared upon his fat features, from which the girl took heart: her employ er would not smile if he intended to deprive her of any part of her scanty and hard earned wages. “ Yes, sir.” “ And delivered it with a very bad grace. I’ll be bound, the young puppy l” the smile giving way to a frown. “ I—no. sir, I think not. I did not notice anything unusual in his manner,” replied Miss Leigh, astonished at the remark and hardly knOWing what to Sat . “ The young puppy l" repeated the proprietor. “When I was a young man, young men knew their places and kept them; but nowadays, the moment they discover their beard growing they think they ought to he boss. The con- founded rascal! I would kick him out of this in a minute if I could only get some one to run the business as he does for anything like the money: but I cannot, and he knows it, the scampl and that is why he dares to presume to interfere in y personal affairs.” She listened in amazement to this revelation of the private aflairs of the concern. “I suppose you and be are on Very good terms, eh?” he asked, suspiciou~ly, fining his little gray, pig-like eyes searchingly upon the girl’s face. “Paid you a good deal of atten— tion, hasn’t be?” “No, sir: not that I am aware.” “ Oh, he’s a sly customer. he has been feeling his way cautiously so as not to alarm you, but I am up to his tricks, and when I made him carry my message to day I knew it was gall and wormwood, but it serves him right; wnat business had he to think of such a thing?" The poor girl was in utter darkness as to the meaning of all this, and so could only listen. “Here’s your money, by the by,” he re- marked, abruptly, happening to catch sight of the envelope inscribed with her name lying upon the desk. “And now, sit down,” he continued—after the girl, with a bow and a murmured “ thank you,” had taken the envelope—and he pushed a chair toward her. “ I wish to have a few min- utes’ serious conversation with you.” Miss Leigh sat down rather reluctantly, for she did not fancy the old taskmaster. “Let me see; you are an orphan, I believe, Miss Leigh?” “ Yes, sir.” “And you hav’n‘t any immediate relatiVes, if I underStand correctly?” “Not that l kn.w of, sir.” “And a stranger in the city, too, probably with very few friends or acquaintances?” “ AlmOst Without friends. sir.” “Dear me, dear me! That is so sad :1 young and beautiful girl-a charming person like your— self, so well-fitted to adorn—to brighten any home. It is really pathetic. I have been think- ing over your case to day, and I have come to the conclusion that really I ought to do some thing for you. It is my duty as a man to look out or such a helpless, tender, beautiful crea- ture as yourself, and I intend to do it.” A strange look appeared upon the girl’s face and a light; shone in her eyes of commingled cargoasity and surprise. What did this all por- ten . “The bindery is no place for you. you kn0w,” he continued. “You are fitted by nature to shine in a brighter sphere, and I have thought thatI mi ht be able to make room for you in my Own ouse. I suppose you are not aware that my wife is a confirmed invalid, but she is. NOW, although I have been in active business- life for a number of years, I am still a compara- tively young man, but mv wife is a very old woman, some ten years older than 1. She was a Widow when I married her, and although then neither remarkable for her youthfulness nor good looks, yet. as she posse sed this busi- ness—l was the foreman and ran the Whole ma- chine—I Swallowed the ill for the sake Of the gilding. It was a smal concern, but with her money and my experience it expanded into what it now is—one of the largest and most profitable establishments of the kind in the country. You see it was merely a marriage of convenience on both sides; there wasn’t any 10ve about the matter at all. I married her be- , cause she had a fine business, and she wedded 1 me because she knew that if she didn’t have any 9 one to attend to it but a man on salary. the business would speedily go to the dogs. I un- derstood the concern and could manage it. It was really a sort of legal copartnership, and I am proud to say that We have got on splendidly together. In fact, since the day of our union we have never had a serious quarrel, and that I guess is a great deal more than most couples who have married out of pure. love can say i” and he smiled complacent y while he mapped ’ his bald pate with his handkerchief. His bearer listened with increasing surprise, still mystified as to the object of this strange communication. In a moment he resumed, his face growing SCI‘IOIlS: “ But now I see the end is approaching. My ..~ ~- family physician has warned me to be prepared for the worst. At the very outside, he says, he does not believe it will be possible for my wife to last the year out, and, in fact, he would not be surprised at her dying at any time,” and he paused in his speech as it moved by the impend- ing calamity. Although at a loss to understand why her em- ployer should so far unbeiid from his usually arrogant dignity as to reveal to h~r his family affairs, yet his bearer had become intri'esteo in the s ory at (1 could not help sympathizing with ' the affl'cted lady. “ Ii. is very distressing, sir,” she observed. “Yes, yes, very distressing ” he replied, speaking in the most matter—0t fact any. ‘ But, you see. my dear girl. 1 have been used to it so lot-g; three or four years ago, at least. the d0ttOI' announced to the that he couldn't help my wife at all; her case was key 0! d the reach of mediCiive, and that it was only a ques- tion of time. Natuie would Struggle bravely, of ('1 urse, tut at last would be obliged to give in. So you see 1 have come to look for“ ard to it as a matter which could not be averted. Now, you know how l am situated. want you, you lmOW as a sort of compel-ion of my Wlle. Of course, in reality, being a helpless invalid who spends most of her time in bed, and already provided with a competent. i urse. you will not I e Called upon to trouble y ourSt-lf very much about her. In fact, I want you to take charge of the household, and see that I an: made comfortable. lam a wealthy man, you know,‘ my (1- er girl, and money is no mete to mo- t. Ii so much water when I take a whim In my h "a. You haVe impressed me wonder fully: ytu are’tne handsomest girl, I think, 1 Nuts ewr met, and I have made up my mind to look otter you in the future.” As he made this declaration the man of wealth - leaned hack in his arm-chair, stuck his than!!! in the arm-holes of his vest, and swelleb'fpbt' pompously, a smile of condescenflon'W'hls‘ features. - Of course he expected the helpless orphdn'to be duly grateful for the ofler, at d was , 'eg to request her to be 5 arin'g of her i. ,~ to his amazement iss Leigh ‘ eww ,e as death; her eyes flashed until they ook‘g most" hla. k; and as she rose from her elixir'li'ér lips Were trembling wito‘ excitement. " .j “ There! there! don’t get nervous d'ver the matter; it's nothing, you know,” he profested, noticing her agitation, which, in his stupidity, be attributed to her ratified surprise‘at his magnificent offer. “ on are a Charmin crea- ture, and I am proud to be able tota you from this miserable lie and place you in a station which you will adorn.” “It is honest, though, and there is no dis grace in honest toil,” the girl retorted, finding her speech at last, but her voice trembled with indi nation as she spoke. " or it is ridiculous that such a girl as you should work for a paltry five or six dollars a week! Why, I Will give you hundreds if you want ’em!” be c iet‘, 10ltily. “But, I do not want them! I do not want a single penny that I do not earn by honest toill” and drawing her figure up to its fullest hight she gazed at the old fool with eyes that fairly blazed with her womanly resentment and scorn. Walaker now comprehended that the girl was not only going to decline his offer but can sidered herself insulted by the proposal, and he was both astonished and enraged. “By Joye! young woman, you are crazy, I believe!” he splattered. “Not so crazy as to Sell myself to you, no matter how high y on any bid!” " Oh. you have misunderstood me?" “But i speak so plainly that you will not misunderstand me .’ You have grossly insulted me; you are a mean, 0 ntemptible old villain, no matter how much money you have, and I thoroughly and utterly despise you 1” And with the air of a queen she moved toward the door, leaving the bindery monarch for a mo- ment speechless with passion. But as she crossed the threshold he managed to recover the use of his tongue. “ You are an iinpudent jade!” he exclaimed, hoarse with his rage, “ and don’t you ever dare to come here again. I Would have been your friend—your protector; I would have done everything for you—married you, perhaps, one of these days, if you were a good girl and had sense enough to know on which side your bread was buttered; but now you have made me your enemy, and I will do everything I can against you; I will follow you up; [Will hunt you down and crush you! I tell you I will make you repent the day that you dared to brave my anger." “I am not afraid of your malice.” the brave girl returned, turning in the doorway and facing him proudly' "and as to again return- ing to this place all the money in the world would not induce me to accept employment from you. I would rather beg my bread from door to door, or starve in the streets, 'han to accept money from you ev.—n though it was in payment for honest labor. Do your worst, sir! I both despise and defy you !” Before the Old man could frame an answer the girl was gone; and well, too, it was for her, for her ears -~ ould have been mOst sadly shocked by the torrent of curses that came from the lips of the baffled rascal. “ I’ll make her repent it!” he cried, amid his curses; “I’ll make her repent every insolent word in tears of blood! She shall rue the day that she dared to defy me! I‘ll have a watch kept upon her; I’ll spend a thousand dollars if necessary to disgrace the minx before all the world!” With a high-beating heart and a face flaming scarlet when she thought of the mortifying offer, the girl passed down the stairs into the street. At the door waited the foreman of the bind- ery, young Walaker. A single glance at the agitated face of the girl was sufficient to give him an idea of what had occurred. From what his uncle had said be suspected why an interview With the young woman was desired, and now he saw that it had been a stormy one. "' Now comes my chance,” he muttered. CHAPTER V. HONEST woans. “ YOU have quarreled with Mr. V‘Valaker, I take it,” the foreman said, as the maiden emerged into the street She started at being addressed, for she had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she had not noticed the young man standing by the doorway. The foreman had not favored her in the least nor paid her any particular attention, yet had always treated her with scrupulous polio-Dem; although, when not observed, he had feasted his eyes upon her rare beauty. “If you have no objection I will walk a little way with you,” he continued. “ I have an idea that I will not see you here any more and would like to say a few words to you.” The girl shot a quick, suspicious glanc I at the young man. Did he, too, believe, because she was poor and without friends. that she would fed an easy prey to any designing hawk who cared to swoop down upon her? But there was an honest look to his face—an expression which was reassuring; so she did not hesitate to grant his request. “Am I right in my supposition that you will not come to the bindery any more?” he asked, as they walked on together. “ Yes, sir.” “I suspected as much; then, Miss Leigh, I presume I Will not have the pleasure of seeing you again.” “I presume not, sir,” and there was a tinge of sadness in her voice. “ Unless. indeed, you are willing to continue the acquaintance by permitting me to call upon you,” with entreaty in his eyes as he made the remark. Miss Leigh was confused; she was relii tant to refuse the request, yet felt that she must. “ I am afraid I cannot ask you to come. There is such a difference in our positions, and inf ss emit then I am afraid it would not. be right. It might give rise to unpleasant remarks.” “ Your will shall he as law to me: yet i re- gret oeeplv that i cannot ei joy the pleasure; and no», Miss Leigh, will you pardon me if I seem to inlerfei'e in matters that appaiehtly do not concern me'f My excuse must be that I take a great interest in you aid would be very Sorry if you do not prosper in the World as I am sure you deserve. saw you‘waiking with a gentleman, last evening.” A bright flush swept rapidly over the fair face, which young Walaker linlii ed with a sad heart. it confirmed him in his suspici- n that she regaiden the gentleman with mole than a friendly inh rest. “Yes. I was out walking last evening,” she murmured. “ M ill you pardon an abrupt question? Are y« u Well acquainted with t..al gentltmah?” “l—I su} pose so.” Ste was evidently ill at ease. “ I ask the question because he appeared last nightso difleretitfrom “bathe usually does. have seen him often, dltSrt’d in it e n ost costly manner, blazing with diamonds as is customary viith tut-otssful men of his class: he is a Wall- street man, i believe, and yet laSL night he was dressed in the soberest and plainest at- me." “I have neVer seen him dressed otherwise." “And is he not. in Wall street?” “ I believe he has an ofiicr there." “Miss Leigh, I will 8 eak my thoughh frankly; I believed that th a man was playing a part; I was not sure that you knew who and wont be really was, and I thought it was my I uty to speak to you in regard to the matter. You are young and i nncent a strange] in tho city, and it is impossible far you 9 In to” “ -_ ct he existence of the man pitfalls which, 'fifr‘th 'lnodern Babylon. are laid to entrap the "-i'eet of fi'unwaiy. This gentleman did not ' avorabiy. and I thought it but righta iron ' " v ' o r ,. . ,lliiu' a» look appeared upon the boil:- , ,“ifid‘t’hG young man sues-eat ‘ "er the fashion of her sex, his a, ’ bilbii‘bd’fily received. -'; fl : ‘mmshould it not haw been wflfin‘oh‘oi - ‘ , ,lit‘ _ , bosom, next to her heart, the pic;- man of whom boil-poke, and char- ished‘ lGfied image in her mind as that of the oiled , réétiin all the world? .“ I nfiih’l’fich cbliged for the troub‘e you have ‘tfiili I'Will be on my guard, although I do ’ ' {with you in the estimate you have 'w'nfthe person; still, I am not wise, and tiny} my mistaken. hum-mums you good- as (thanking you again, and trusting‘ that-at so is fixture time we may be able to' renew our" dogfiaiilta‘nce.” '~ e was div-missed. and there was no alterna- tiVe but‘to submit, so he returned her salutation and halting, allowed her to i'oceed alone. " I have' angered her,” e thou ht. “ She loves this fellow then. and walks ellberately into the more with her eyes open! Perhapls, though, he n‘jeans her no evil—but he does !” 9 added aloudpvehemently. "I am certain of it! I read evil in that man’s face as he gloated upon the beauty of the girl, as plainly as though it was written there in words. He. had marked her for his prey. and she, poor innocent! is angry with me because I doubt this villain; but with the aid of Heaven I will save berg-despite herself!” ‘ Firmly was the vow registered in the heartof the young man: and, luckily, he had means which enabled lim to pr0:ecute the task. Miss Leigh went on her way, her heart throb bing with agitation. She had rather grown to like the foreman, but this attack upon the man who was to her above all others, excited her indignation, and yet she could not help confess- ing that Mr. Walaker had some. sligh; grounds for his suspicion Her hero had been playing a part, for be had made human to her that very day that he was other than he seemed. and she had promised to go with him that night for the purpose of being introduced to his sister, his only living relative as he informed her. It was the old story that be had told her: he Wished to be valued for himself alone, and so be concealed the fact that he moved in the best circles in New York, and was rated as one of the rising men of the city when he made her acquaintan 9. Miss Leigh boarded in Market street near East Broadway, and by the time she had reached the house she had succeeded in calming her agitation. At seven her escort was to call for her, and until seven came the minutes seemed to go by with leaden feet. Pron pt! y to the moment, though, the gentle- man appeared. As the reader hai doubtless surmised it was Almon Dudley, but the gentleman presented an entirely dilferent appearance now from what he did when he sent t e telegraph dispatch, being plainly attired in a. dark suit which be‘raved signs of long wear. looking like an overworked and underpaid clerk. “I am all in readiness, you see, and will not keep you waiting,” she said, greeting him with a beaming smile. Her hat and Clank were at hand. and she immediately proceeded to put them on. Then they sullied forth. Proceeding to the BOwery they took a rl‘hird avenue car and rode u town. At Fortieth street they alighted and walked through Lexington avenue. Miss Leigh had never asked any questions, and when her lover told her that he held a better po- sition than his garb indicated, and that he re- sided in Lexington avenue. she was not betrayed into the surprise which she would most surely have felt if she had known that he resided in one of the most fashionable quarters of the city. But when she came to the avenue. and turned into it, she could not help expressing her amazement at the elegant mansions. "The creme de la crme of the city dwell here,” he replied, “ but among all the belles who queen it Over the fashionable world, there is not one to compare with a certain young lady who honors me with her acquaintance.” Sweet as Sweetest honey were these words of praise from the lips of the man who had won her young affections, and the girl blushed to her very temples, giddy with happiness. "This is my home,” he said. as be halted be- fore one Of the handsomest houses in the block; a magnificent brown-stone mansion, through the curtaincd windows of which poured a flood of mellow light. “ It is beautiful,” the girl observed, so full of hen mess that all seemed like a dream. ittin the mansion she was received by a Charming woman, a dark faced, dark-haired, raven-eyed beauty, with a decidedly foreign aspect, Whom the gentleman introduced as his sister, Madeleine, and who embraced her with warm affection, and then carried her ofl.’ to re- move her things. The gentleman sunk into an easy-chair, radi- ant with satisfaction. “She is here at last!” he cried. “ It was an easy game, and I have won it with scarcely an effort. She is mine, and what power in this world, either human or divine, can snatch her from me?” The door being open, a welLdrilled servant made hold to enter. “If you please, sir, there’s a messenger-boy at the door who insists upon seeing you in per- son,” he said. (To be continued.) HE fixed himself up at the very best, hair parted in the center, perfumed hankerchief', very broad cuffs, very high collar, very fine straw hat, very large seal ring. very striped pants, and a latest style coat. He was going down-town toapply for a situation in a com- mission house. Entering the office with the greatest assurance, he remarked: “ Good-morn- ing. sir: I understand there is a. vacancy—” “ Never fill a vacancy with a vacuum, here, sir! Good-morning.” The merchant measured him with one look. SUNSET ROCK. Pauv'choN, MA 55. BY ANNABEL DWIGHT. On either side the dark hills lie; The s‘ y curves gentlyover. No more from place to place I drift, A sad and restless rover. The western clmids are flushed with faint, Fair learns of God’s own glory; And 0! Wat-huset grimly smiles A text for verse or story. The menu is up—a great white globe; The west wind idly lingers And touch: a brow, and cheek, and throat, Wit h cool aid fiagi ant fingers. Shut in brhind ihrse circlii g hills, I dread no dark to-morr0w. I know beyond that border line Lies all my care and sorrow. Oh. dreaming bills! Oh, quiet sky! 0h, grand, white moon show me! I count myself a happy queen, With one true heart to love me! Shut safer in from care and strife, I crave no -. renter tl't—‘n‘rule Than [me and home. Fil ed to the brim I hold my life‘s fair measure! A Mugs Sin; HIS LAWFIIL WIFE. A Woman’o “can History. BY RE'I'I‘ WINWOOD, au'rnoa or “A DANGEROUS: woman,” “was 3431: a mi" ‘1 small-u sin-nut,” - “*m'on wmowi" “a man's m1," “ an immune 'wmow," are. CHAPTER XXIII. 109 unit Let us the harvest of our labor eat. -Daxm Nnnn saw at a glance that her sister had heard and understood, and all secrecy was at an end forever. Pale and cold as a statue carved in marble shg’hflidl‘thm «tuft-outing the two, her white 6 ‘li‘itl " ' the floor in soft, clinging folds, mhflumlonal air of hastilness to her livid face. One hand was hel pressed a aiust her boating side. the other she extende With an air‘of command that was almost a menace. It seemed an a a before the frozen lips parted. “What is al' this?” she demanded. “Tell me—l will know the truth, and the whole truth.” She knew already; but the stunned, bewil- dercd‘brain needed further confirmation of the dreadful stor before it could be comprehended in all its deta ls. Suddenly awakened from the fltful slumber into which she, had fallen by the sound of voices in the ante—chamber, Edna had risen and sto- len forth to hero who was there. The door happened to stand ajar, and almost stupefied with hbi'ror, she had listened to every word of Gerald’s concluding speech. ' No one replied to her for a moment. Gerald’s face was livid, and his teeth chattered. Now that the crisis had come, all his bravado had deserted him. "Why don‘t you speak?” Edna said, in a low, constrained voice, looking from one to the other. Her calmness was frightful—more appalling than the most violent outbreak would have been. " This mystery must be explained,” she went on, with the air of an injured queen. “ Gerald. you and Neria pretended to b: strangers to each other. How is it that I find you conversing to- gether like this?" He made an effort to recover himself. “The—the meeting was accidental,” he stam- mered. “Don’t think of it any more. Come back to your chamber. You are tooill to be here.” She shudderingly shook his hand aside. “ I am not to be put off,” she said. “Let me know the worst at once.” Seeing him draw back she turned suddenly to Name, and added, in accents of gentle entreaty: “ You will tell me My brain seems numb, my thoughts sluggish. cannot understand things as I did once. For Heaven's sake do not kee me in suspense.” eria buried her face on her arms. “ How can I tell you?” she groaned. can If” “You will at least answer such questions as I may ask? It would be cruel to deny me that satisfaction. I wish to know if the man stand- ing yonder is the same you have told me about -—he who married you in New Orleans and af- terward deserted you? Are Iawrence Gordon and Gerald Atherton one and the same?” There was no response. After a silence that lasted only a few seconds, but seemed like as many hours, Edna added, in an apathetic voice: “I am answered. To my mind all is now rfectly clear. Neria, I understand why you eff the house so abruptly after he—Gerald— came home. You had not the courage to re main and meet him in my presence.” “ Forgive me,” Neria cried, falling on her knees at her sister’s feet. “ I would sooner die than cause you a moment’s in. 1 did not know, or even guess the terrib e truth until the night Gerald came back. Oh, Why did I ever live to see this hour!” “ You should have told me at once.” “I could not. I meant to go away and hide myself both from you and him. It was the one prayer of my heart that the truth should never reach your ears. I hoped you would live and die ignorant of it. ” “(10d will (1 otherwise. It was in privilege to understand the position in which had been placed. You did wrong in trying to conceal it from me for a moment. ’ Then passing one hand slowly across her fore- head, she resumed: “ It i; better to deal with each other plainly in such a trouble. Do not imagine, dear N eria, that I blame you in the least for what has oc. curred. You are as innocent of intentional wrovig as I am.” “Oh. yes, yes.” “ It is of our changed positions that I wish to speak. I have not forgotten the verdict of the lawyer’s a cat, who went to New Orleans to in- vestigate t e facts of your marriage. He pro- nounced it a valid ceremony. It must have been such. Gerald Atherton is your husband, and not mine!” Her forced composure gave way a little as she uttered these words. and. leanin against a chair, she shuddered convulsively. gI'hey were the knell of peace and happiness lost forever to her soul. “ Don’t sa that,” cried Neria, starting im- pulsively to er feet. “I have no claim upon im—Wish for none. You are his acknowledged wife in the sight of the world. Keep your po- sition as such. God forbid that I should de- prive you of it!” A slight flush kindled in Edna’s pale cheeks. “You forget,” she said, sharply. “Could I live with Gerald Atherton as his wife. knowing that the title I bore rightfully belonged to an- other? No, I am not fallen so low as that.” Neria uttered a low cry of horror. She had peyler thought of the matter in that particular lg 15. “ Heaven help us,” she moaned, wringing her trembling hands. “I shall go away from here at once,” Edna re- sumed. “ Aunt Faunce has a kind heart—she will surely give me shelter. Heaven grant that I may not live long to trouble any one.” Gerald was looking at her with a stunned, stupid gaze. Seeing her turn slowly away, he sprung forward with a hoarse, inarticulate cry. “ How "Ediani’o not mo lie tbiaT I have been a'giidm,h,ntl penal-e ">d0 on ythih in my power to atone ftr the ' .1 It be a you eVer imagined me. Do" ' ' She coldly waved him away. “ I‘d-u la'e. Let m‘ p 188, if you please!" “Will nothing shake your resolution? Do you not see that I suffer terribly, as well as you? One moment—” The sentence was nevsr finished; Edna sud- denly pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. It was instantly covered v ith blood. That terr-ble scene had done its work. Ge- rald had barely time to catch her in his arms as she fell forward insensiblel CHAPTER XXIV. AFTER THE REVELATION. Every one can master a grief But he that has it. —Sm:spnax. WHEN Consciousness returned, Elma was ly- ing on the canon in her Own retty chamber. She felt weak and ill, and eon d scarcely raise her head from the piIIOW. A sense of loss and pain Weighed heavily upon her heart. 1 Her first thong ht was or Gerald Seeing Ne- ria behding anxiously ( var her, she caught her her d saying. in an eager whisper: “ W be: e is be? Why is he not here!” “I asked him to wait outside." was the an- swer. “Shall 1 tell him you have recovered, and wish to see him?" “No, no.” She fell rack, drawing a oreat-i. “ Don’t let him enter here, Neria, ’ she pleaded. “ I am weak—and I loved him so. It is better that we should no ver meet again.” "Calm yourself it shall he as you wish.” A Jena sl'ence ensued. Edna la with her two ling hands clasped above her cart. She was trying to look the situation squarely in the face—to comprehend the calamity that had overtaken her. “ What is the matter with me!" she said, at last. "I feel strangely. I remember falling insensible, but that is a .” Neria tried in vain to put her 00. “ The doctor says you have ruptured a blood- Vessel,” she relucrantly replied. " It is nothing serious, fortunately; you will be up again in a. few days.” “A few days!” Edna echocd. “ I must leave this house befure sunset! I crnll not pass another night here. That is out of the question.” “Try to be patient. You are not strong en— ough to make any change.” “I must go— must!” Edna cried, fever— ishly. “I can hear anything better than to tarry here where I have new so happy. Man— age it any way you please—only yield to me." Neria began to expostulate. but it was of no use. She was bent on getting away as quickly as possible. and could not be moved. She soon worked herself into such a fever of excitement that Neria saw it was better to yield. “1 will speak to the physician,” she said, at length; "we mu-t .‘e guided by his advice.” She did so. and Won a reluctant consent that the removal should be made at once. All t at now remained was to apprise Gerald of the de- ClS‘On. She found him walking ufi and down the cor— ridor like one distrac'ed. earing her step, he turned and Came quickly tots-aid her. “What a fearful retribution has overtaken me!” he exclaimed. “I feel as though all was lost that made life disirable. I have sinned, but my punishment is hard to bear." She had no wish to discuss the situation. “1 am here to speak of Edna,” she coldly said. “ in spite of her weak condition she is de- termined to leave the house at once." “ W hat! she persists in abandoning met” H Yes.” Covering his face. he groaned aloud. “I submit. But you must let me see her alone for a. few moments before she goes,” he said at length: “ mpossible!" was the decisive answer. “ My sister Could not endure another interview in her weakened condition. Neither d0es she wish it. Spare her the ordeal ” “You do not care how much my heart is wrung. or how entirely I am bereft,” he pas— sionately exclaimed. Neria made no response. It was but a just retribution—one he had brought upon himself. He was suffering a little of the agony he had ruthlessly brought upon others. Edna was sitting up when she mentored her chamber, eagerly giving orders to the maid who had been summoned. Her eyes glittered with excitement, a hectic spot burned in either cheek. “You need pack only my plainest dresses,” she said. “ I shall have no use for the others, or my jewels. Leave them all together and be —Mr. Atherton-can dispose of them as he pleases.” The bewildered maid obeyed these instruc- tions to the letter. She knew something un- usual had occurred, that all was not as it should be between her master and mistress. But. as nothing had been said in her hearing, she was very far from divining the truth. “My lady is flighty,” she thought, “and has taken it into her head to go away for a while. I hope there has been no quarrel—she and mas- ter seemed so fond of each other.” It was only by a tremendous effort that Edna succeeded in keeping any control over herself. The terrible anguish and de ir that Swept her soul was enough to madsggn one. When at last all was ready, and, clinging to Neria’s arm, she arose to leave the room and the house, she was almosr overcome. “I have been so happy here.” she moaned looking round at the familiar objects she had learned to love. “It will be harder than I im- agined to go away and leave everything behind! Oh, my home. my once happy home, I shall see you no more l” No tears fell from her burning eyes, but hid ing her face on her sister’s shoulder she stood thus for several minutes, shuddering con— vulsively. “I came here a happy bride,” she said, “ and never dreamed what a farce I was living. A wrecked life and broken heart are all I have to take away.” “Come,” said Neria, drawing her forcibly fplrward. “It will never do to give way like t is. The halls and corridors were clear. Gerald had taken care of that. Neither he nor Mrs. Atherton appeared—indeed, the latter had held herself aloof from the first. Not very clearly understanding the situation of affairs, all her sympathies were with her son. It was with a last long, lingering look full of unutterable anguish that Edna left the house. “This is my farewell,” she said. “I shall never come here again, or behold anything I ideavdel’iehiud. It seems like taking leave of the en . They entered the carriage- Neria did not draw a free breath until they reached Mrs. Faunce’s door. She feared that a second hem- orrhage might set in on the way. Mrs. Faurce stood waiting in the hall, her shrewd old face betraying wonder and curi- osity. She fell back a step with a. smothered ejaculation as her glance fell upon the pale, (imaging figure of Edna. “ ercy on me! What is all this!” Neria made a quick sign of caution. “Hush!” she said, in a low tone of voice. “Ask no questions, but leave me to deal with miisister alone. i will explain all, presentlv.” rs. Faunce leaned against the wall, sufl'er- ing them to pass by. Never, in all her life, had she been so aetonished. She was too clever by far not to realize that a terrible calamity had occurred. " What can it be?” she vainly asked herself. “In the first place, Neria came flying here, at dead of night, for refuge, and now it is Edna. Something mus: be radically wrong at the Atherton mansion. But What?" An hour later she had heard the whole story. Leaving E'lna lying in the deep sleep Of ex- haustion. N eria sought the presence of her aunt and revealed all, without reservation. nick 5:92: / p l. '. ...‘..- .- Aj—