sion by the appearance of a light a short-distance
up the hill which he had been climbing. . f

Ut proceeded from what appeared to be inthe dim
light a rudely-built shanty. ; :

At the same time, the moon which had been hid-
den behind dark banks of clouds rose and east a
pale, shivering beam on all around.

The major paused. ;

Was it fancy, or did he see some sixty or seventy
men around with old muskets, pikes, and scythes,
a little way in front of him, marching and counter-
marching at the word of command?

They were no phantoms but real flesh and blood
Trishmen—rebels the government called them—
drilling by moonlight in the hills. :

Major Hampton crouched down behind a bed of
ferns, and watched.

Silently they went through the various maneuvers
which their instructor, one evidently well-versed
in the military art, put them at.

Still their movements were a little awkward, their
dress bizarre, their arms old-fashioned and gro-
tesque.

“So! said the major, “those are the menmy bold
dragoons are expected to fight, poor fellows. They
haven’t much chance against diseiplined troops.”

He had spoken aloud in his disdain.

Searcely had the words left his lips than a hand
seized him roughly by the collar of his coat, and a
voice exclaimed:

“Haven’t they?
spalpeen, and let’s have a look at you.

The major attempted to draw his sword, but a
heavy blow which nearly made his arm powerless,
rendered the movement abortive.

The muzzle of a pistol was presented to his ear,
and the same voicé continued:

“Dare to show any fight and I’ll scatter your
brains—if you have’ any—to the four winds of
heaven.”

Major Hampton thought discretion, in this case,
the better part of valor and suffered himself to be
dragged along ignominiously to the house.

In a large kitchen half a dozen men were sitting
about in various positions, a huge fire was burning
in the grate, and in one corner an illicit still was in
full blast.

All were smoking and drinking whisky, fierce,
lawless, bearded men, outlaws such in fact as the
laws and roughesf treatment had made them.

Among the crowd the major perceived Dublin
Dan and Barney, the boy who had betrayed him in-
to his present unpleasant position.

A howl of derision greeted the appearance of the
British officer, who: mud-begrimed and bedrag-
gied did not to show the highest advantage.

“Aspy! aspy!” cried the men, springing to their
feet. “The soldiers are upon us.”

“No, no,” replied his captor, who was named Mick
Doole. “If the redcoats were here to-night he’d
give a good account of thim, begorra. This is the
fellow Barney told us of, an’ he’s made his way to
the wrong place.”

“‘Thrue for you, Mickey, he’s wrappin’ his shroud
around him, an’ we'll give him an iligant wayke,”’
said cne of the men.

_ heres noneto sing his keen,’ remarked an-

Come. into the moonlight, ye

»

er

* Right bheys.” exclaimed Mick Doole, sternly.
“He has come hither of his own free will, an’ he
has seen too much., The penalty is death.”

Dan, who had béen carried by Patsey Leeson to
the stronghold of the rebels was horrified at the
idea of the English officer’s being condemned to
death in sucha summary manner.

His young and generous nature revolted at such
asummary execution.

“No,” he eried, “don’t kill him. My life for his.”

The man laughed seornfully.

“Dan: Deering,” said Mickey Doole, “we snatched
youfrom this man an’ his dragoons when their
hands were on your throat. They’d have sint you
to an English dungeon to pass the swatest days of
—o life. Why should you ask for mercy for sich
as he?”

“Because he has Gome accidentally among us.
We are many and he is one.”

“Oh, bedad that’s no rayson at all, at all,” replied
Mick Doole; “‘we’ll give the soldier man till day-
break to repint, and then we'll see whether lead
agrees with him for bréakfast!’’

here was alaugh at this coarse jest, and the
major was rudely disarmed, his sword and pistols
taken from him, and his. hands were tied tightly
with cord behind his back,

My good fellows,” cried he. “I demand the cus-
tom of war. If youare in arms you will at least
hold meas a prisoner, until exchanges can be
made.”

«_, Lundher and turf,” exclaimed Mickey Doolan;

Did your government ever give up one of the
bhoys? Hasn’t it ever been the prison or the gib-
bet, you black-hearted thafe? An’ what you have
given us for centuries you must be contint to take
yourself,” :

The red flickering light given by a peat and firze
fire, slightly augmented by that from a few candles
stuck against the clayey walls, the heaps of grain
piled to the roof, blackened iron pots, the illicit dis-
tillers themselves, with their rugged faces, matted
hair, and fierce looks, all made up a picture whieh
was weird in the extreme.

Major Hampton saw that it was useless to argue
the point with such men. He had fallen into their
hands, and must méet his fate as became a braye
man, though it was hard to _dielike a dog with all
the pleasures of life before him, | vk t

Taking him by the arm, Mickey pushed him
roughly into a darkened corner up against the
grain, where he was told to lie still or he’d soon
have his brains. blown out without any further
warning. ’ f cs

Eyen had the men been disposed to let him go,
they could not safely do so, as he knew, too much;
his. duty would preyent him from keeping what he
had seen secret, and the first result of their clem-
ency to Major Hampton would be the defeat and
oer of the Fenians, and the destruction of the
still.

In an hour, the lads who had been drilling, dis-
persed and came into the hut, or as far.as it would
holdthem, to obtain a drink of whisky before they
went home. 5

Mickey Doole, and those who were more imme-
diately associated with him, kept up a little carni-
val all to themselves until past midnight, when all
but. Miekey and Pat Leeson Bee EB

“Is the bhoy asleep ?” asked Mickey Doole, point-
ing to Dan, who was leaning back in a chair with
his eyes shut, i

“Not much doubt of that; he’s been noddin’ these
two hours,” replied Pat. ,

“Good! Now pay attintion to me, Patsey.”

Pat prepared to do so, and so in fact, did Dan,
who, so far from being asleep, was wide awake,
wondering how he could saye the’major from being
killed in the morning.

CHAPTER X.
THE FIRE RAISING.

After a slight pause,in which Mick Doole seem-
ed to_be collecting his thoughts, he resumed the
thread of his discourse.

“Luke Deering,” he said, “is not worth to bear
his brother’s ould and honored name,”

_ Divil drive him,” answered Pat Leeson. “‘T’d
like to scald him to death in some of your own
potteen, Mick.” ; ‘

**He’s robbed the widow and the child of what was
comin’ to them; and this blessed night we'll have a
fire raisin’ at Loughmahon, which will light up the
counthry side, like the days of ninety-eight.”

Dan trembled in his chair. F

Could it be possible. that in order to punish Luke
Deering, whom they did not like, they were going
to burn the grand old house down in which he was

born ?

“Hurrah!” cried Patsey.. ‘“‘And when the old fox
finds his earth stopped and fire blazing over head,
he'll work his way out as ugly as a bag full of
weasels, and it ll be oddifa stray shot don’t find its
way into his black heart, the villain.”

“They mustn’t get wind of it,” answered Mick,
* or faith, we'll have to look out for the redcoats.”

“Captain Moriarty is from Dublin, they say, an’
the lads are to attack the police barracks to-mor-
row.”

“That will keep the soldiers quiet, for they’ll be
looking after the Nationalists,” answered Patsey.
We'll take an hour’s sleep. Ill watch the English-
man, Ifwe leave here by one, we'll have time to
shoot the rascal, and reach Loughmahon by three.”

“It isn’t more than two hours from here, asthe
eroew flies,” said Pat Leeson, throwing himself
down on the fioor, falling into a sound sleep almost

‘as soon as he touched it.

Mick Doole sat at the table with his head on his
hands, and his tall, robust figure threw a gigantic
shadow on the wall as the fire burnt low.

An outlaw since ’48, for nearly twenty years .he
had defied the law, and now he had determined to
take adyantage of the new movement which the
young democracy hoped would liberate Ireland.

, Dan had learned from his remarks that it was
intended to shoot his uncle, and burn the hall over
his head.

“This must be prevented,” hesaid to himself,

The boy had a horror of shedding human blood,
and whatever Luke Deering’s faults were, he was
desirous of saving his life, if possible.

Whether it was owing to the heat. of the fire, or to
the mixture of smoke and whisky, of which he
imbibed freely, Mickey Doole fell asleep.

Every one in that cottage, except Dublin Dan was
under: the influence of slumber, and to Dan we
must add the major, whose agony of mind would
not permit him to close his eyes.

No ‘Sooner did Mickey sleep than Dan rose from
his chair.

He advanced to the pile of grain.

It was not an easy task to pick his way among the
men who were lying about the floor in yarious
positions. j
, ioe his knife, Dan placed it between his
teeth.

It was growing dark, as the candles had all burn-
ed out, and only a fitful gleam came from the smol-
dering peat.

The major saw Dan coming toward him, and at

 

first mistrusted his purpose; but when the boy
whispered in, his ear, ‘Be still; I have cometo save
you,” his heart gave a big leap in his bosom,

Gently Dan cut the cords.

Major Hampton was free, but still in peril.

“Follow me,” exelaimed Dan.

The officer did not pause to express his gratitude,
he simply obeyed every instruction of Dan’s with
the passivity of a child, for he saw that he had de-
termined to save him, and would if he could.

Stepping cautiously, they passed the sleeping
desperadoes and reached the door through which
they passed.

The wind was rising and unfortunately it blew
the door to with a bang.

“Curse it!” exclaimed the voice of Mickey; “who
opened the door to letthe cold in ?”

Dan touched the officer on the shoulder. ;

“We will be discovered in a few seconds. We
must separate; both our lives are in danger. They
would aheoe me for liberating you,” he said, hasti-

y

y.

“Heaven will bless you for it; and if ever it is in
my power to return——” '

“Hush! don’t waste tfme. Run as hard as you
can straight before you. Keep always to the right,
and by morning you won’t be far from Ennisfallen.”

“To the right ?” . :

“Yes; by that you keep the high ground and avoid
the bogs. Good-by.” :

Major Hampton wrung his hand warmly and
darted off in the darkness, while Dan disappeared
in another direction. |

The next moment, fierce oaths, and loud, angry
exclamations, were heard, shots, were. fired, men
PEAnOg frantically hither and thither in the dark
night.

The escape was discovered.

Searcely thinking of. the officer, but concentrating
all his thought upon himself, Dan, who knew the
country well, sped on. : s

For more than an hour he ran without stopping.

_ At length he came to a house, which in the moon-
light he had no difficulty in seeing was the shebeen
or public house kept by Mrs. O’Rourke.

In spite of the lateness of the hour Dan knocked
loudly at the door, and kept up a persistent din un-
til he had thoroughly roused the inmates.

A window was thrown up, and a head protruded.

“What spalpeen. is it raisin’ ould nick below
there ?” exclaimed the voice of Mrs. O’Rourke. “‘Ye
know it’s not me eustom to open in the night.”

“It’s me; Dan Deering.” .

“You, Masther Dan ?” she said, changing her tone
directly. “May the saints make your bed in Heayen.
I’ve been draming of ye, this night.”

“Where’s Molly and mother, Mrs. O’Rourke ?
That’s all I want to know.”

ate an’ where would they be, but under this
roof?”

“Here ?”

“Yes, agra. Didn’t Luke, the haythen bhaste,
turn your dear mother out of the house .afther the
horse soldiers had dragged you away, and the poor
woman’s heart full to burstin, and breakin’; so she
came here with Mary, and not an hour aftherward,
Luke’s agent goes and eyvicts your grandmother,
the Widow Flannigan.”

. “Did he turn the old woman out?” inquired Dan,
in surprise.

‘Deed an’ he did that. What wouldn’t the likes:

of him do? “He said he’d clear the brood out of
Loughmahon,s6 Mrs. Flannigan’s wid us, and if
yell come in, we'll be a happy party.”

“No, thank® you,” answered Dan, “I only want
my mother to know that Lhave escaped from the
soldiers and am safe; but Ill have to hideaway

et. ‘

“Why not hide here? T’'l giye you the loft to sthay
in,an’the ould boy himself—bad luck to’ him—
wouldn’t think of hunting for.you there.” y 4
_ It’s nota bad idea,” replied Dan. “‘I’ll think of
it. Ihave alittle farther to go, but you cah expect
me back by daylight. ;

Waving his hand he ran up the road, leaving Mrs.
O’Rourke so full of the news of having seen him,
that she had to. wake up’ her daughter Mary, Mrs.
Deering, and. Mrs. Flannigan, one by one, to tell
them, for if she»had kept the intelligence till the
morning she would have made herself ill...

_ Dan continued his way to Loughmahon, intend-
ing to warn the present proprietor of his danger.

hen he reached the lawn in_ front of the house
he looked up at the window. In one there was a
light burning, «

The big clock in the stable-yard struck two. 2

In one hour the fire-raisers would be ‘at their
devilish » work, and if'measures were not taken to
stop them, the ancient and beautiful pile before
him would become a heap of ashes. _. :

Mickey Doole was aman who kept his word, and
Dan did not doubt that the torch would be applied
as he had said it would.

There was a fine chance of plunder, for the day
before’ had been ‘gale’ or rent day, and a large
sum of money was in the house. :

For atime Dan wondered how he could get into
the house and Maye speech with his uncle.

; He Enews he risked his liberty by making the at-
empt. :
But he was resolved to save the old house at all

hazards. gots
He could not bear to see it burned.
There was a large porch over the front. door, and
the room in which the light was burning was im-

mediately over this, i bit 3 Be Peet 5S
if he coud grim) he poreh he would bé standing

ona level with the window, and. could. easily com-

municate with any one within,

;. Soares goes for shinning up the porch,” he mué-
ered.

The next minute he was climbing up a post, and
after a short struggle with some projecting ledge,
he was on the top. “ "

So far, so good.

He drew near the window.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]
> <4

Items of Interest.

kar A peculiar-lookin package was received
the other day at Worcester, Mass. It came from Olympia,
Washington Territory, and on examination proved to contain a
large potato, Further investigation showed that the potato had
been cut in two, and the inside scooped out, and in the cavity
were found flowers and leaves, which, as the recipient learned
by a note previously received, had been picked in a garden in
the open air on the 26th day of December. The flowers, pan-
sies, geraniums, and others, were as_fresh and bright as if they
had been gathered within an hour, though their journey across
the continent had occupied fliteen days. Olympia 1s in about
the latitude of Quebec, though its winter climate is not more se-
vere than that of Memphis.

Rar A very remarkable circumstance is related
as occufring to Mr. T. T. Cook, who has two brothers living in
Minnesota. The gentleman réferred to was a Union soldier, and
while engaged in a fight with Morgan’s raiders, at Cynthiana,
Ky., on the lith of June, 1864, received a wound in the left eye,
by which that organ was destroyed. The wound was never care-
fully eXamined, the sutgeons thinking it was made by a splinter
or spent shot. The wound neyer healed, and has proved a great
annoyance to Mr. Cook. But last Pepi) Sng morning, while
at Daniel Floch’s, in WestShenango, Penn., a Minie ball dropped
out of his eye, followed bya purulent discharge. The ball weigh-
ed 11-3 ounces, and had lain imbedded in the skull, near the eye
for 12 years, 5 months, and 18 days.

aa A noyel incident in connection with a wed-

 

ding recently occurred at Alton, Ill. The county clerk was ap-y

plied to for a license, and he proceeded to fill out the necessary
documents, inquiring as he did so.the ages of the candidates for
matrimony. The groom’s was given as 34, while that of the
bride was stated to be only 14. This statenrent caused a stay of
proceedings, and the clerk informed the parties that it was
against the law to issue a license to a woman under 18, without
the consent of her parents. Thereupon the father of the bride,
who was one ofthe party,.stepped forward and said the bride had
his full and tree consent; that she had already been married
once, and had buried her first husband.

ag- A frog was recently vomited up by.a young
girl named Lena Crapo, living in Troy, N. Y._ She swallowed it
while drinking at a brook seven years ago, and it had caused her
a great deal of suffering during that long period. Inability to re-
tain tood was one ofthe most unpleasant characteristics of the
ease. She was thought by most physicians to have an ulcer in
the stomach, but the girl always contended that the cause of her
trouble was the frog, which she remembered almost choked her
at the time she gulped it down. - A few evenings since, as stated,
she was seized with violent vomiting, and up came the dead ani-
mal, much tothe reiiefofthe girl whois slowly but surely re-
covering her health.

aa- The people of Rising Sun, Indiana, have
been considerably excited, lately, by the robbery of graves in
that-vicinity, and efforts have been made to discover the guiity
parties. A short time since the body ofa little girl was buried,
and her friends hired two men to watch the grave. Mayor Gil-
lespie-also sent two men to watch the grave, not knowing of the
action of the girl’s relatives Each party mistook the other for
“body-snatchers,”’ and opened fire upon each other, resulting in
the serious wounding of both parties.

sa- A young lady in Indianapolis, Miss Emma
L. Kreglo, was recently married to Mr. John _E. Hough, under
peculiarly sad and affecting circumstances. When the day ap-
pointed for the wedding arrived, she was very ill, with little pos-
sibility of recovery, but it was the wish of him whom she had
chosen to walk with through life; to have the marriage take
place, and so surrounded only by her immediate family the cere-
mony.was performed.

ka Mr. Aaron Easton, of Tyre, N. Y,, died
lately, aged nearly 102 years. He was amanof small stature,
but possessed of great physical as well as intellectual yigor. At
the advanced age of 100 years he boasted of walking several miles,
and seemed as active as most men of four score. His centennial
was duly celebrated, and it was an occasion which he enjoyed
very much. He was probably the oldest man in Western New
York, if not in the entire State, The funeral was held 102 years
from the date of his birth. He was born in New Jersey.

xa> Trichina seems to be developing in various
sections of the country. Im Connecticut, recently, several more
cases have been reported. Among the number taken ill were
three boys in East Haven, all prostrated from eating ham con-
taining the animalcules. A Mr. Harder and family have also
been sick from the same cause.

na The length of span of the bridge over the
East River, is 1,595 tee; length of New York approach, 1,562 feet;
total length of bridge, 5,998 feet. Depth of foundation, below
high-water, 78 feet; height of roadway above high-water, 135 feet;
height of towers above roadway, 149 feet; total height of towers,
268 feet; total height of towers from foundation to top, 346 feet.

a@- In British courts all rise as the judges en-
ter. Standing on the bench, the judges bow to the queen’s coun-
sel; the queen’s counsel then bow to the judges; the judges then
bow to the members of the bar; the members of the bar then
bow tothe judges; the judges then bow to the people; the people
then bow to the judges. Everybody then sits down.

s@- An asylum for nervous persons is to be
established in Massachusetts in accordance with the will of Mr.
Seth Adams, lately decéased. The executor of the estate has ap-

 

plied.to the Legislature for a charter.

:

‘friend Sophia” should

thoughts away from the day’s

‘you had so unexpe

 

«<4 THE NEW YORK WEEKLY.

A JANUARY THAW.

BY ADA CARNAHAN,

 

The Sun, half risen above the horizon’s bar,
Shoots out his level rays across the land,
Until they touch the morning’s sleepy eyes,
And bid them ope from slumber.

On his pereb,
The cock stirs, flaps his heavy wings, and crows;
And lo! an echo—one, and then another,
And yet xnother; echoes numberless,
Resounding everywhere, die toward the west.
Even so, wa8 heralded the morn that came
To the far garden of Gethsemane,
And saw there blood upon the ground for dew;
Even so, the cock crew out when Peter stood,
And warmed himself before a fire of coals,
And thrice denied the Lord, whom, yet, he loved.
Happy the day that on no Peter breaks;
And such an one, or soon or late, must come,
But the time is not yet; although almost
We might be so persuaded by the hush,
The quietness, the peace of the still time,
That seemeth heavenly,

How deceptive fair
This winter morning is? The warm wind blows
From southern, sun-kissed plains, and vernal woods
Sweet with the breath of blossoms; it hath touched
With its fore-finger the ice-fettered rills,
And laid its hand upon the heads of the hills,
And lo! enchantment! all the hills are bare,
The rills go laughing down into the fields
That brighten into verdure, till it seems
Almost as ifit were a carnival.
And masking January wore so well
The robe of Spring, the-eTSest could not tell
Tf it were she or he.

But woe to them
That being mistaken, go with him a-field!
Right soon they find, beneath his festive dress,
His rough and rugged nature, that delights,
From very wantonness, to do them harm,
And thinks it sport to lure and tempt them on
With promised crocusses and daffodils,
And other May-time treasures such as théy,
Then, suddenly to throw off his disguise,
And, blowing on them with his iey breath,
Betray them toa cold and cruel death.

I charge you, do not trust him; I have seen
Him wear this dress before, and well I know

He is the son of Winter; and right soon

Wili his stern father set a period

To these, his frolic pastimes, and will give

Him work unto the season séemlier.

Then shall he, in the very spirit of war,

Shower down his snowy caltraps, and shall lead
His army of north winds; then, fire and flame
Must battle hotly if they ward away

His fierce attacks, and keep him from our hearths
Until their king, the Sun, shall come in might,
And banish Winter from the weary land.

‘ae CORE
She Loved Him

By Mrs. Louise C. Reynolds,

 

“How She Loved Him" was commenced in No. 50. Back Nos.
can be obtained of auy News Agent. ]}
PART: THIRD.
CHAPTER XII.
CROSS-PURPOSES.

On reaching home, Mrs. Martindale found await-
ing her a letter of condolence from the Clevelands,
who, it appeared, had chosen to remain for a few
days to enjoy the sea-breezes of Falkestone, while
Sophia haa gone on to London in compliance with
De Fontaine wishes. ; :

They could not help thanking Providence for
their own miraculous escape, although at the same
time they were exceedingly grieved that their “‘dear
haye rushed headlong to

     
   
 

such anawfulfate; § ws

Lionel met, theng at dinner-time, and was, as well
as Captaie er dist to hear
such an shop untof the once beautiful
‘Sophia Deveril. ;

It was a cheéerless and far from happy eyening to
Georgie, in spije 6f their many efforts to divert her
d . roceedings.

Lionel, while walking home, had met De Fontaine
for the firsttime since his return to England, and
Guring.che :
ken place bet’ ;

of Sophia’s e¢
De Fontaihiy 3 to : >
was arranged the whole affair should still-be

i
kept a aneatty ‘om Lionel, and, also, as much as
possible from the Sa care of every one. _'

It was a cruel and heartless deed which Heaven
itself. had avenged; it was better, therefore, to for-
get it, if it were possible, and remember the
unhappy yOung woman, only in her present suffer-
ing, are with the torturing reflections of a guilty
mind.

Constance wa$ now almost inclined to laugh at
her husband on account of the suspicions he had
entertained with regard to De Fontaine, and in her
heart could not help feeling a certain amount of
relief, not unmingled with pleasure, at finding him
far from being guilty, as circumstances had at one
time seemed to indicate. . f

The captain, however, still adhered to his former
conyictions, assuring his wife that although he re-
leased Lionel’s friend from the serious charge of
forgery, yet he was by no means prepared to with-
draw his former statements.

Constance laughingly shook her head.

“It_is a case of mistaken identity, altogether,
Gerald,” she persisted, as she descended to the
dining-room, leaning on hisarm. “But Iam very
glad to find itisso,for I have always liked M. De
Fontaine, and—”’ ;

“This remains to be proved, Constance,” he inter-
rupted her, finally, “Give me your opinion about
a) month from this time, and tell me if you like him
then.”

She suddenly remembered what Florence had told
her concerning Estelle; it drew the color from her
cheek, blanching it to a deathly pallor.

The accountof Lionel’s meeting with the French-
man that afternoon, immediately excited great in-
terest, ong hecould not forthe life of him im-
agine why Florence’s_ eyelids drooped, and a deep
crimson flush suffused her cheek as he mentioned
De Fontaine’s name. .

Indeed, there was an air of strangeness, Lionel
thought, upon every one, with the exception of
Captain Martindale; and he, assuming a careless
and indifferent manner, was the only one present
who could find words to answer him.

“Ah! J have been introduced to your friend,
Lionel,” he said, with a smiling glance at his wife.
“But was he not very much surprised to find that

ly returned ?”
. “It seemed to me, by the expression of his face,
as if he took me for anapparition,” replied Lionel,
laughing. ‘‘And it was not until I had shaken him
warmly by the hand, and addressed a few words to
him that. he seemed to recoyer himself. I never
saw a fellow so startled in my life.”

Captain Martindale coughed significantly, and
Florence, lifting her eyes, caught Lionel’s glance.
lt immediately checked his merriment, and rather
an uncomfortable silence followed. ‘

Georgie broke it by addressing him on the subject
nearest her heart. : i

“Did—did you tell him anything about Sophia ?”
she asked, falteringly. oe

“I did; and he told meto offer his sincere condo-
lences to you all—but to youin particular, Georgie.”
Lionel answered. “Positively, he seemed to take it
quite to heart. I cannot tell you how his manner
changed as soon asi confirmed the truth of what
little the newspapers had already led him to sus-
pect. By-the-by, Georgie,” he added, kindly, anx-
ious to direct his sister’s thoughts away from that
particular channel, ‘,[ have broughtwith me the
family pictures of which you remember my telling
you, so, that after dinner, youshall pass your opin-
ion upon the charms of the much talked-of Miss
Daverson. _ Though, at the same time,” he contin-
ued, laughingly, “I cannot imagine what I told you
in my letters to set you thinking about her.”

Georgie colored, the subject was not a pleasant
onetohernow. , :

“You told us 0 Much about the whole family that
we seem to know them alréady, without ever being
well introduced,” she answered, smiling. “But I
am glad you have brought the frotesraass group,
Lionel, as I should very much like to seg them all,
since they have been such kind and inyaluable
friends to you.” | : :

It was not until after dinner, and while they were
seated inthe drawing-room, that the picture was
produced and. admired by all, Lionel standing si-
lently by and listening to the remarks which each
one made. . ;

“She is like Florence, I think,” Mrs. Martindale
said, as she gazed upon the fair young face Lionel
remembered so well.

A face that seemed to be looking sadly and re-
proachfully at him, and bearing a striking contrast
to her brother, who was standing at her sjde with
his hand resting upon her shoulder.

It was a large cabinet-sized picture, so that each

ssion with regard to. the letter,
ag Georgie’s eat? eae at
hye

i

| she was inwardly suffering on behalf of her sister

Rent he spoke of all that had ta- |
Mrs, Martindale had previously told her husband

 

 

figure came out clearly and distinctly, and brought
back many a happy and touching remeniscence to
Lionel as she dwelt upon it.

‘I myself used to think her like Florence, some-
times;” he answered, lifting his eyes to his ecousin’s
face. “‘Her voice too resembled hers—I loved to
hear her sing.” :

The words came out involuntarily. but the mo-
ment they were uttered he remembered what he
had said, and would have given anything to have
recalled them. Notif he had known what pleasure
they brought to Florence, though. Not if he eould
have looked into that heart beating in its excess of
eres see all the love and pleasure that there lay
lladaen, °

“T like Mark’s face,” said Georgie, who had been
gpooping down infront of itas it rested on Mrs.
Martindale’s knee, “There, I told yon so, Lionel,”
she added, glancing timidly up at her brother; ‘‘we
always call them by their Oiiietian, names as famil-

 

i

ees = = i

ce, though
) ashtulness
Georgie thought so pretty and

and
the
.

Florence completed her toilet in sile
with a deepening color and a certain
of manner which
becoming.

Lionel’ came true to the appointed
found his sister and cousin awaiting h
drawing-room. | ig

He and Georgie exchanged meaning glances, and
the look on his face was loving and tender as ho
took Florence’s hand and gazed upon her. ;

They started without delay, leaving Mrs. Martin-
dale and her husband to follow in the rear.

Georgie, in her own heart, had arranged the
carrying out of her plans satisfactorily. ‘ |
She was almost glad that Florence had a head-
ache, (Lo which she was somewhat subject), for she |
knew that it always prevented her attending church |
in the afternoon, ; \

It would be very nice, she thought, for Florence
to rest on the sofa inthe quiet and shady drawing-

 

larly as possible.” 5 ‘

“Mark would feel very much flattered if he heard
you, Georgie,” Lionel said, smiling.

“On the contrary, I should haye thought he woul
have been offended,” she replied, with somethin
of her old eee. “and have looked upon me
as the most ill-bred creature in the world.”

““Mark is not so easily offended,” her brother re-
joined, “You would have all your work cut out to
vex him, Georgie.” ;

“Really. How much I should like to try,” she an-
swered.

Lionel laughed.

“IT trust you may

>

1 have that pleasure before very
long, ’ she said, turning away. d

é remembered with bitterness the promise that
Mark had made should a certain happy event take
place, and he wondered whether Florence would
ever be willing that it should be so.

Oh, he could not endure the Busgenes much long-
er! He would ten times rather have never come
home at all, he thought. ‘

He wondered what could possibly have changed:
herso. She used to be so loving, so gentle and for-

iving; and now she appeared almost cold, indif-

erent, and unapproachable, He was ready to bite
his tongue_out for uttering those heedless words
Fust now. She would besure to misconstrue them,
and this would gropayly widen the breach which so
palpably existed between them. ;
he truth was there was no breach at all, if they
could only have opened their eyes to each other’s
mutual love. |

It was a game of cross purposes which lovers
sometimes are very fond of playing at.

Florence’s unwarranted self-reproach rendered
her silent and almost sad ; and Lionel,unaccustomed
to see her in such a mood, took it for coldness and
indifference toward himself. Georgie, who saw
them oftener together than her step-brother, com-
prehended’ perfectly well how matters stood, and
was determined to make up for her sister Sophia’s
cruelty, and use all her energy to bring them to an
understanding. ;

 

portunity that very night. Rite
No sooner was the photographic picture put away
than Georgie relapsed into her old thoughtful

mood,and her eountenanee betrayed how much

She had not to wait fone for she met with her 6p-

Sophia. :

Not wishing to throw a blank upon the rest, she
quitted the room, and sought refuge in the library,
—a large, lofty apartment lined with books, with a
lamp burning dimlyinthecenter, | °
_ Here she plunged into an arm-chair, and coyer-
ing her eyes with her hand gave way to her bitter
reflections. i

It was here also that Lionel found her nearly an
hour later, when after bidding the other’s. good-
night he went in search of her. i

So absorbed was she in her own gloomy thoughts
that she did not hear his footstep approaching, un-
til he had reached her side and laid his hand upon
her shoulder.

“Georgie.”

“Oh, Lionel! how you startled me,” she ejacula-
ted, Seren to her feet. “Are you going so
soon ?”

“It is later than usual,” he answered, with a faint
smile. “Come, you must not meet trouble half
way, dear Georgie,” he continued, putting his arm
round her. “The doctor may be wrong after all,
you know.”

“How can you possibly have read my thoughts ?”
she inquired, with an effort to speak cheerfully.
: Fa sg | I tell youthatI was not thinking of
Sophia at all—that my reflections concerned your-
self and Florence ?”

Her brother’s countenance changed.

Oh, Georgie! it is yery good of you, dear, if it
were so,” he rao, gravely. “I cannot make
Florence out at all; I have a great mind to go back
to America.” ;

His sister laughed.

‘If you want to break her heart outright, you had
better go and tell her so,” she replied. “You have

 

all but broken it now.”
ionel winced. Georgie did not mean itas a re-
proof; but he accepted it as a just one.
“JT don’t believe she cares a straw for me,” he an-
swered.
“Have you asked her ?” eecl nsay
“Do youthing it. is any use?” he cried, interro-
gatively. ay

‘Faint heart,’ you

beating with a strange, incomy

 

ae dopt think itt. know_it.

know, Lionel,” his sister added, with a smile. “Be-
eee ee can’t make the first advanee to you,
ean she?” Pai Te

No, of course not.” . ee,

“ What is it you wish then ?” she asked again.

“She neverspeaks to me unless. I address her
first. She is so quiet,so reserved, when in my pres-
ence; ee that is not Florence’s nature,” her broth-
er said.
, “Her nature has changed. Two years of suffer-
ing is sufficient to change any one, I think,” replied
Georgie. A

‘Has she suffered ?” he asked, bitterly.

More than J can tell you, Lionel,” she answered,

emphatically. “Oh, if you would: but open your
eyes to the existence of her noble, tender love! Do
not completely shatter the heart that lives and beats
only for you.”

She had put her arms about his neck, and was

azing up into his face with a look of such earnest,
ineffable pleading, that Georgie’s countenance ac-
tually seemed almost beautified.

He bent and kissed her. j
«Will speak to her to-morrow,” he whispered.

Good-by, dear Georgie. You have been a great
comfort to me to-night. I only wish I could. see
you happily married yourself.”

She smiled pleasantly.

“Never mind about me,”’ she said, earnestly, and
retaining his hand. “My whole future life shall be

iven i to you and your children. Good-night,

ionel.”

“God bless you!” he murmured.

And with those words he left her.

CHAPTER XIII.
RECONCILED.

Georgie could not refrain from smiling when she
bade good-night to Florence, in spite of the shadow
which was lurking yet in the young girl’s face, and
the sigh which eseaped her heart as she thought
how another day had passed without one word
from Lionel. ‘

Was this to be the end of her long, long waiting
—of all her anxious doubts and fears—of her love,
which had passed through fire and had still re-
mained true? Was this to be the end ofit all? she
asked herself, as she passed into the solitude of her
sleeping-chamber that night,.her heart painfully
beating and full of the grief she had hugged and
cherished so long.

“Tt will all be right t0-morrow,” Georgie whis-
pered to herself, as she closed her own bedroom

door.

if she had only dared to tell her so, but, she did
not wish Florence to become acquainted with what
had passed between herself and Lionel. She did
not wish Florence to know that she had become a
mediator in her cause; she was quite content to
feel that she had satisfied Lionel with the assur-
ance of his cousin’s unchanged love, and Georgie
sank into slumber that night with a smile on her
lips, and feelings of pleasure coming over her
heart such as she had never experienced before.

The sun shone brighter and warmer in Georgie’s
room as she remembered, on awaking that it was
Sunday morning, that Lionel was coming early in
consequence, and that in all probability before it
set again Florence would be his affianced wife. j

The trouble which had befallen her sister weighed
less heavily on her mind as she set about her morn-
ing toilet; having completed it without one thought
of herself, she hastened to her cousin, who had but
ust commenced her own.

What, Florence, not dressed yet,’ and Lionel is
coming early to go to church with us!” she ex-
claimed, with unfeigned surprise.

_ ‘My head has been aching so, and I have felt less
inclined to’get up,” she answered, averting her
face. “But I dare say it will be better presently.”

“Tam sorry you are not well, dear, but do try and
make yourself look pretty this morning. I want
you to particularly,” urged Georgie, as Florence
began to brush at the long wavy tresses of her
Sunny hair.

She smiled faintly.

Why this morning rather than any other?” she
asked. “Is anything very important going to hap-*%

a

“I don’t know—who can tell?” her cousin an-
eau with a meaning glance, accompanied by a
smile.

Florence’s countenance changed. (

“I know to what you allude, dear Georgie,” she
said, grasping her cousin’s hand, and pressing it
affectionately. “But I am afraid it is all useless
now, and you will find that to-day will be the same
as any other day in that respect.” ‘

“Iam not so sure,” persisted Georgie, in the
same tones. “The bells have been ringing so joy-
fully as if to herald some happy event. Wait until

 

room, with Lionel seated at her side, her hand
edin his, while their voices exchanged mutual

ords of love. j

Georgie knew perfectly well that no one would —

erruptthem. She herself made a point of at-
ending church Oe Sundays, and very fre-—

seen, Captain and Mrs. Martindale went for a
rive or astroll in the park, and on such a glorious
summer’s day as this, Georgie could hardly fancy
they would remain in doors. | ‘ q

The evening passed, the service came to an end,
and Georgie, with her brother and Florence, wend-
ed their way homeward. :

Florence’s face had been very sad and thoughtful,
Georgie .had observed, throughout; nor did it
change from its sweet, lovely pensiveness during
the walk home.
and laughed and chatted with his sister incessantly
and Georgie, who'was moreover, consoling hersel
with a promise of ‘a visit to her sister On the mor-

Recah

:

row, was more liyely than Florence had remem- |

dered her to have..been since Sophia’s departure —
for the Continent.

Luncheon was then disposed of, and Florence,
still suffering from, headache, plunged into an
arm-chair, and in answer to an inquiry from her
aunt, expressed her determination to attend church
that afternoon. . te. *

‘Surely you aré not going, Georgie, in this heat,’
said Mrs, Martindale, turning to her step -dawaaeer:
“Why don’t you wait and go this eyening? It will
really be unsufferable this afternoon ?”

“The park looks very inviting, with its green.
trees,” BREW Ora TERE te gazing from the window. |
“It must be delicious out there “in the shade, i ©
should imagine.” =

“Why don’t you come with us, then ?” said Mrs.
Martindale again. ‘‘It'is only for the trouble of
crossing thewoad, and thesun canhardly penetrate
through the Spreading boughs. Ithink on asultry
afternoon nothingis; more enjoyable than a shady
seat in the pe sa ould to 3

They could not, however, prevail

room, she quitted the
tain Martindale and her step-mother:'s

It was the first time since L ?
that fortune had) thus tavored- him, and Georgie
glanced back at him: ashe watched them from the
window, ADR. Be hitthe trium, t smile.

He saw his mother,ar i SB ahs artindale cross
the road and enter one. of the open gates of the
park; and then, sher ‘pausing # fey oments to
observe afew of the passers-by; ‘he’ the room
and slowly ascended. jhe sare. 4

He waited again without the drawing-room door,
almost afraid to ont hy her presence upon whose
lips hung the seal of his‘future destiny. And yet, in
rape face of < thabiieorsig a i nae be ight,

ereseemed no cause for anxiety ordoubt, — _

Another moment andshe had ¢rossed the thres-
hold and was standing ear tte land
onthe door. The blinds were drawn down to the
bottom of the windows, so that no ray of sunlight
could penetrate din the semi-darkened room,
heitrécliping upoma lounge, was.the still,fair form
of Florence, one round white area. arm which the
loose sleéve of her dress had fallen, Popporting her
aching head, and her eyes closed as if in slumber.

She did not hear him enter; she me ie No move-
ment, and so pale didshe appear that but for the
fainyly. gulvering eyelids, he might haye, thought

er dead,” 4 oie ays sede Ob was te 6

He could scarcely restrain the impulse of taking
her in his arms and straining her to him; and yet
Be could only gaze silently and even sadly upon

rer. s Owe

She was not sleeping. but seemed to beJostin a
prayed reverie, from wach Sy prese opened

er eyes to meet Lionel’s tend: TO Spiga ae

She started and lifted her he oor the pillow,
the blood rushing like a torrent'to her face.”

“O Lionel! is it you? Idid not hear you, but can
Ido anything for you?” she exclaimed,in confusion,

“T only want to talk with you fora little while—if
your head is not paining you too much,” he an-
swered her gentiy.

The tones touched her: alr ; her he ‘
inge, inc rehensible sore
She made no reply: and he took aseat by her side.

“Iam so sorry to see you like this, Floy,” he re-

sumed. Li ABE .
It was the first time he had addressed her by that
name, and she could scarcely bear the sound of it

2

   

now, for it brought the tears to her eyes in spite of
er efforts to. ho Do.¢ ra emotion, 2 >
He detec re Lg never haying

Roath cic more pafntol sti ade on wet
“Oh, it is nothing!” she murmured, at last dash-

ingthem away,’ “I shall be better by-and-by.”’
“But it is something. to me,” he rejoined, softly

and earnestly.«.“-You never had these headaches

before L went-to America.” ni ig
She colored and hesitated. bik Sie, acid
“No—at least not so frequently as I haye them

now,” Bho pbs ered. en piggies

a on'tyout ink it was rather imprudent for you
to go to church this morning,” he asked her, in his
old tender voice she remembered so well. - ,

“Perhaps it was; but Pdon’t like stopping away;
and a headache seems such a poor excuse!”
_ There was a pause,and rather an awkward one,
which Florence broke. i pO toe
.“Thope you haye not. remained indoors on pur-
ER to keep me company, Lionel,” she said. . “For
am sure you would have much preted to have
gone in the park with auntie—and I shall be sorry

Lionel could bear it no longer. He sprang from
his chair, and clasping both Florence’s hands in his
own, gazed into her upturned face, |

“Now look here, Florence,” he said, in tones Yat
were_firm and decided, “if you begin to talk like
this, shall think it high time that I was off
America again.” :

The movement was so sudden that it was several
moments before Florence could recover from her
surprise, and even then she was unable to compre-
hend whether he was joking or in earnest.

She looked up withahalf smile playing round
her lips, and a bashful, timid glanpe in her bright,
lustrous eyes. She waited for him to continue,
hardly knowing what to reply.

“You know that I prefer being with you to any
one ‘else in the world,” he went on, now seating
himself on the sofa, and putting his arm round her
waist. “What do you think Ieame back from Ame-
rica for if it was not to be with you ?”

Her heart beat, quickly; and nowhe had drawn
her so closely to him that he could feel it palpitat-
ing against his own.

“What is it, darling?, Why do you tremble so ?”
he asked her, fondly. “Did you not believe that I
loved you, Floy? Will you not believe it now ?”

“Oh, yes! Ineed no ee than this,’ she
murmured, as she nestled in his arms, and pillowed
her aching head upon his breast. “But, oh! I have
suffered so much——”’ ;

“I know it; andIcan neyer forgive myself for
haying been the cause,” he interrupter her. “But
do not reproach me now,” he added, matterty. a
also have suffered—and justly, I own. Oh, my
darling, do not be afraid to place your happ ess in
my keeping, and my whole future life sh; Ibe ons
long atonement for all the wretched past.”

“Your love is sufficient atonement, now,
swered him, “if any be necessary at all.”

“And will you really give yourself to me—lovingly

” she an-

and trustingly, after all my unworthy treatment of —

you?” Lionel asked, searcely able to realize the
fact.of his own happiness. _ | S

“Yes; this is all { wanted, Lionel. Iam perfectl¥
happy now,’ she whispered again, réassuringly.

And so all doubts and fears were laid at rest for>
ever—all past sorrows buried and forgotten—and
then Georgie returned from church, and asthe glad
smiles of the lovers greeted her, she felt that she
had indeed been instrumental in the restoration of
their life-long happiness.

[TO BE CONTINUED.}

THE NEW BOOK,
Peerless Cathleen.

NoTIcE.—The advance demand for this capital new novel—the
second of the NEw YORK WEEKLY series—has proved s0 enor
mous, that the publishers are compelled to announce that the

PUBLICATION DAY IS POSTPONED
until another large edition isprepared.

The Printers and Binders are working day and night, but find
it impossible. to catch up with the enormous rs that are
pouring in front ees of the country.

The Book will, it is hoped, be ready in a few days, when all de-
mands will be filled in the order received.

i

It is one of the very best novels ever publis and will sell
enormously * * * Beautifully printed and d in cloth.
Price $1.50.

2

 

Send on your orders, either to STREET & SMITH, Publishers
of the NEw YORK WEEKLY, or, to .

G, W. CARLETON & CoO., Publishers,

 

 

 

we hear them again, and then tell me if you are
not of the same opinion.”

Madison Square, New York.

 

mw: =—

   
 

Lionel was_in excellent spirits,”

ON Acca ae ha

enitibansi fash ph

pVvOr upon Georgie —
to break her rule of attending church and haying ©
seen Florence comfortably resting in the drawing- ©
house accompanied by Cap- —

Ae oe ae

=

 

2+ tale resect a

“

 

ionel had been home— |

Bee erie

 

esha an pen mn

 

 

 

 

 

~ + ry