is; Esqéxfiria‘ssw cl .— \. J. 1» pryriglnml, NSF). hy [impure AND Annie. Entered at the Post omve at New York. N. Y., as Second Class Mall Matter. June 9, XS“. VOL. V. 3%23. PUBLISHED WEEKL YBY BEADLE AND ADAMS, price, No. 98 William Street, New York. Five Cents. NO. mg; ~ ‘* \ XML-l \ / / A ' __' ;" “fivm WHY, mss ATTISON, You HAVE comm T0 01mm!” “ I thought it would seem so to you, dear." , her cousin sorrowquy replied. -. 4 ‘S a man you have never seen, and of w ose ex‘ . 01 ' IN " BONDS" istence you were ignorant until asked to promise BY SARA OLAX TON. to marry him! It is worse than lunacy. Uncle —— could not have been in his senses (people very CHAPTER I. MY LADY’S MATCHMAKING. seldom are on their death-beds) when he’ asked _ you to promise it. Why on earth should he “AUBREY, it is perfect lunacy!” said my want on to marry this stranger?” “ To tell me you consider yourself en aged to. “ A berta, I think I Will-tell you,” said Aubrey,‘ 4:. JAA...5.. I ..'\ »' 1’ "2%,! i3 “1’. . nearer henchair, and raising her tear- ',_‘_., ', ful, dark eyes. “Papa, years ago, did “this stranger‘s father, Mr. Grey, great injury—' cheated him—the sad voice got bravely over [the ueg word--—“ of wealth thatshould have hoen'his, and, through him, that oil the girl he ' Was about to marry.~ His'poverty frightened b, .gh'er,.and she discarded her lover. On his death- papa was troubled by remorse for those '1;«miserableremembrances, and could not die, . ,‘Al‘beria, until he. had made what atonement 2' {there was left for :him to make—not to the g i Enhancements ‘ .4 ', V rman he had wronged (Mr. Grey himself had L .zf idlmf‘years before), but to his son.” “Very right and proper, if the atonement . v Ind confined itself to the restitution of the ill- : .. gotten money.” “Aubrey winced. .— . ,“There was that‘other wrong to be com- -‘ ' permeated; at least, I know there was in papa’s »_ ' nilnd (partly that, and partly fear of my pov- j erty'when he made [the will that bequeathed, #h'it Wholoproperty to Philip Grey, on the one ,, cpndition that he married me.” ' ,“ZA pretty conditionl; Supposing he had ‘ been already married?” , * “Then the property was to be equally di- ‘,_”fiiied between us.” , L l Q,“Oh, really! ,And supposing Mr. Grey re. ' objectsto you?" , , ,“ He forfeits it, and I keep it.” fiAnd if you refuse?” , (“Every penny goes to him,” announced Miss " Attis'on, calmly. ‘ I " f‘Unole, was out of his sensesi” my. lady de- clared, indignantly, “to throw his only daugh- ;. tar at the head of a needy stranger in that may. , How in the world‘ you, with your over- ' attained ideas of modesty and \ retirement, 7 could consent to such an outrageous disposal of ‘l‘y‘ourSeltyis past my imagination, I confess.” : . “Rape. implored me to comfort his last mo- ,» 'mentshy-my‘ promise to carry out his wishes,” said Aubrey, with a break in her voice and her ,ehead‘jturned away. “It was thin-first request he'ever made to me, and he never._~denied me a ;,have done as I did.” , My lady shrugged her, , mnoyed for sympathy. ~ » “How is it you’ve’never tol , . 4 , 111 this until t ,1 death!” _ , , V ,. 1ft:~ - ,“ Because only to-dayhave I heard that the I dime a word of ,' ., etegmw . 31312 as : " 'Iliingt at has been a g‘oOd deal f, } me for life.” l rinses the one conditionelikes the money, and and you are married!” Aubrey echoed, shocked. . ' 2, ings generally. , posity ‘ larly \lyvvague. r But my letter this morning tells me that Mr._Robins has, communicated. with him at last, and has forwarded the letters left in his (ML Robins‘s) hands. _ One papa wrote himself; the other I, Wrote at papa’s dicta— tion.”* , \ ’ g “ Making an obliging offer of yourself! No ‘i‘ear but that the man will snap you up! . Well, I’m sorry for you, Aubrey, and wish uncle’s . repentance had taken another form, 'or been delayed a little longer.” ' ' “Alberta!” , My'lady smiled at the flash of the days-like es. .J ' ' “ Thatexpression suits you, dear. You will be sorry for yourself, some day, when you have sunk to the level of your clOd-bOpping spouse, and are enjoying the fullest delights of , bush life and squatters’ (or whatever they'are) vulgarity. Sorry, when you know the value ,v of the beauty and refinement you are so madly determined to throw away. And I had such charming plans for you, Aubrey; had sketch- ed out a. matrimonial future you could so easily have realized this autumn, I thought,— asyou are the only creature I care a straw about—I suould like to have you Settled near e “ The only, creature you care a Straw about, My lady laughed; and, rising, trailed, her v'elvct across to her cousin’s. side. ' “ You are not stupid enough to fancy I care for Sir Edgar,‘are you? At least, 1110 cars for him in a certain way; I care for his rent- roll and title, friends, position, andlsurround- l merely Object to his pom- , ugliness, jealousy, and himself particu- ” . ’ Aubrey put her hands to her ears; ' “I Will not listen to you, Alberta. You are saying what you do not mean.” . ' My lady looked much amused. ythlng. Alberta, in my place-{you Would : shoulders, too I! »; policitor, My Robins, .h§.,_d$oovered rhilip l . . "Grey. . flamight have .heenima‘rried or dead, 3 that was so strikingly alike. My lady wasthe' ‘ * .asxetfiltnow; inwhlchease‘rl should have had handsomer of the two. . Her beauty was per- ,1 ' r ;:tq’tell yen;- Grey went out to ,a feet asa Grecian statue’s, and no marble per-4' fifteen, and his/.8011 is Ejection could be colder. ' ' eldelay in finding-Thin,» Lawyers are very, g9 e 819% I thinkrasd his whereabouts yea._,.utter~ , their dark velvet" loveliness. r “I don’t tell him quite that story, you know, but I like to be candid occasionally, and it is\ I only with you I can indulge in so dangerous 9. luxury; you always seem exactly my second self.” ously alike, those cousins, standing side by side on the fleecy rug. , V Taken/ for sisters were they ever and oy‘er o—deywnéerly ayegrfsince uncle’s l again, and had been remarked as twins, though " ' ‘ I there were plenty of points of dissimilarity visible 0t any close observer. . It was the style and general tout ensemble The chiseled features and ,creaniy skin sted no touch of warmth; and eyesydn » t > She looked it, too—for they were marVel- , w u ‘ ' \ lure, and dazzle, but could never soften in tenderness nor kindle in sympathy, as it was the nature of A'ubrey’s to do. ' Miss Attison was slighter, shorter, altogether aless fine, although as graceful a woman as her cousm. . , Her complexion, too, was less perfect, though V it had warmer coloring, and the expression of - the two faces was utterly unlike; for there was haughty impenetrability in my lady, there was winning sweetness in Aubrey. , 'Still, there was a‘ wonderful likeness, not only in feature, but in richness of auburn hair, in the proud carriage of the head, and in gen- eral style and manner; and Aubrey often ' laughingly declared it was no use having sep- arate photographs, for that it only led to the con fusion of well-regulated albums. “ Our first installment of visitors to-morrow,” observed Lady Perriman, complacently, sip- ’ ping her five o‘clock tea; “and a matter of real rejoicing, I :hink it. Amiable as you are, Aubrey, and exhilarating as Edgar’s society is, 1 should die if another week were to be as the last has been.” “ Are there many people coming?” asked Miss Attison. . “They will come till the house is crammed, I hope. 0h! to-morrow, you mean? Well, the only individual of note is the one I had de- termined to try my hand at 'match-making on for you—Max Lydell; his place is only three miles from here.” “Why on earth is he going to stop in this house, if his own is so near?” “Because his own is undergoing alterations; and because rI—vknowing nothing of this idiotic engagement of yours—deemed a. month to-, gather in a. house under my supervision would be the only thing required to assist destiny, for you and he were made for each other. On, Aubrey! I could shake you!” , Whereupon Miss Attison laughed. There were several ladies in elegant, and one ', v A V . , , 11,, PLEDGE!) To MARRY. ~ ' l : color varied. or two gentlemen in regulation, evening cos-. tume, grouped stifliy about the Perriman draw- ing-room, when Max Lydell entered it. His hostess, dazzling in black velvet and diamonds, made much of him; and when din- ner was announced, Miss Attison was assigned to his care. They were introduced as strangers, those I ' two, or Aubrey’s quick glance might have been f taken for one of displeased recognition. She was very lovely in black lace and snow- ” 4.‘~ drops, pearls among the masses twined about herheed; but for chilli- ‘j‘fii- ness and reserve, Lydell think! he has never . «encountered her equal. ' “Uncommonly‘ difllcult to get 'on with]? he up the attempt. ’ ivot, .h in more than inclined to give ‘ 7 at er, fee} 3 r » ‘ inaner or. this world,” or ~ 7-..1 - perience to him, fer although" far fromiwhat-is and diamond studs before her. . '.",\.* termed a. lady’s man,1ady1ike appreciation did, as a ., rule, find something unquestionably ates tractive in the dark, refined face, with it! ‘ _ grave eyes and rare charm of smile; still more - " ' ‘ so, perhaps, in the languid, easy 'ma'nner out v of which, as,frum a' contrasting frame, came at times such stirring bursts of eloquencégsatire 1’_ in keenest darts, or a power of subtly ting argument which proved the brains behind? the quiet, unreadable eyes to being no meaner/ .1 caliber than the close—cut silk thétreo'vers them» ‘3‘ However, on second thoughts, Lydell rather “ exerted himself to be plea-ant to this may, proachable neighbor of his; and although, when she had glided away with: the other. U , ladies, he could not congratulate himsellfi on r“ a least success, he was not altogether certain " that it might not be worth his while totry x ‘ to soften her. V " 1 ' He considered the matter as he followed‘his; majestic host from dining to drawing-“room? again, and saw Aubrey seated in once! nae-.7; ; low, luxurious chairs in which my 1adyy:.lie—,‘ lights,'with her pretty hands claspedionilts'. arm, and her eyes upturned to the black'eoati‘i‘ . severed otherw‘ black coats and variously designed studs werei dancing attendance, eager to enter the arena} should the chance present itself. Lydeli pro-Tr ferred menopoly. . \ , Aubrey’s hair was just touching the dark. velvet of the chair, and a'lamp’s light caugl t; its rare red tint; there was .cobwehby lace ‘ around her throat, and grace in her attitude. t 'Lydell entered into a political discussio With an opposite neighbor at 'the dinner-table, _ gradually defeated his occupant, and watched MisslAttison all the while. , g ’ ' Smiles and dimples suited her better than-- stiffness and disdain. She laughed out merrily once or twice, and her blue eyes sparkled. L'ydell joined the outer circle of that velvet:w ._ chair. Its occupant Was talking brilliantly and well, with a quick rzpattee here, atele‘c'aI ‘ remark there, and sound common sense in fig: next observation, all uttered in the same sic‘al unraised tones. If there (Were a thing}. Lydell hated, it was a high-pitched voice in a woman. , ‘ ; 'f “Aubrey, play something!” her ladyshjp begged; and \Max Lydell found himself ad jpsting the pianovstOOI and Candles. _Miss ‘A‘t’s: tison did not play as well as she talked; hers was but a mediocre performance,tbreaking:thefi instrument‘s ice, and showing greateritale‘nta, the way it should go; but it spirited _ the low seat, upon which a watching-old with an eye for comfort. pounced. " ;“Amiabilityirewardedniter‘the ’ ” ‘ Mr. Lydell WM herself. I I r.“,1 don’t know about the amiability, but I dare say there was a little selfishness in mom '5 .nopolizing so desirable a seat so long.” ' , . I. .She turned to him, with no trace of the dim- !l pheflashing out‘amomsnt after upon a sandy- " haired Specimen of gallantry making haste to v. aver, in a strong Irish brogue, “that no one who knew Miss, Attison but so slightly as he| hadethe. misfortune to do could credit, evenl ' 1,, from her own lips, the accuSation‘oi’ selfishness, . 3' or, indeed, of any other quality that might not ,’«b6‘deiiued as charming.” And Lydell’s lip ,Lsfiurle'd.‘ , I ' " ‘4 ‘f‘Barefacedflattery is the style that pleases thee,” he- said, scornfully, to himself. Then aloud, "May I, though, possessed of discarn— merit to infinitely less protound than Major», ‘Macarthy‘s, be permitted. to second that de- l ,. joist-anon?” ,, ' ' “T Aubrey looked up at him, steadily, straight, l ,md, before the clear, contemptuous gaze, he, , the first time in his life, felt convicted of un- , gliot'solentirely unprovoked, though, as he 3 how the bright friendliness and frank 1 Was so impartially bestowed on others were denied to himself alone. HOW; her very vorce ‘ changed to ad tress him, and how carefully she l or!)de even a chance encounter- of his glance. 2 " 'Ifosay that‘he Was piqued would be to put it i inflilly. ' ' ' ‘ f5“ Ilewill find out the reason of the fair demoi- fiil§3.t:aprioe, or conquer it,” was the resolu- tiguwith which 9 knocked out the ashes of, pipein the smoking-room that night. 4‘ " ‘_ ‘lI congratulate you on your taste,” said my , lady,"satirically, when Aubrey, according to ;,.«ieustom, entered her dressing-room for an os— ~jtensible gnodon'ight, but a real ten minutes’. - ever the concluded evening. 4,“, Thanks, dear,” returned the girl, provokm . p . { c l . 'ra"¥retty. taste, indeed, to snub the nicest telle'wby encouraging the greatest cad in the W ‘ flu 7‘?“ poor Major Macarty! he is not a nuisance, then; I believe you did it annoy me.” \ . I .-;'“,;You believe nothing of the sort,” Aubrey ' ontmdicted. "‘ I tried to snub Mr. Lydell (and. .glja‘m glad you think I succeeded) simply be- , a I cause, from the bottom oi! my heart, I detest} Myflady elevated her eyebrows, and waited. ‘ , f‘lflltell" you all about it, Alberta.” And ’Attison placed, her slippered feet on the tendenand leaned confidentially forward. ; ' ‘ _f‘ A. little time ago, aunt and I were coming j {'9 out of the Albert Hall-along those a . corridors, you know. ,Wo were w ’ 19!}. I 1y I heard one say, with a laugh, ‘ provoked impertinence. l 2; .. W’mflonoman to Which the 8m W83 twins 1y, all-v mufied up, and two gentlemenva V ’ » ,us so closely that’it was impossible to avoid . 7 ' ‘ hearing‘ a little of their conversation, especially as they scorned to lower their tones. .mDistinct- ilod ,you’ will be, old fellow, within six months! “The pretty little‘Attisou spends the autumn-with V her cousin, and I‘ll lay any odds that she knocks you over as easily as her ladyship did that old stick, Perrimanl’ ' “ Eden more distinctly did swerto that pleasing speech. “ ‘I have too much pity for the shallowness ~ of your purse to take your bet. Granted the 3 young lady’s oharms,-I tell you candidly the first decent flower-girl we meet would make in _ my eyes a far more desirable wife thanfthe lovely Miss Attisonl’ . v ‘ “As he uttered my name, he passed out into the full light, and Hooked at him; and/ today . i I recognized him thegmoment he entered the drawing room, and remembered his insult.” ‘ “Oh, you made a mistake! ' Identifying a man in a. moment’s glance like that—muffled- up, too! Absurd!” . V ' “ It was I who was muffled—not he, Alberta. And if I had not seen the face, I could swear to the voice.” « ' 1 “There was no insult about it that I can see.” My lady changedher tactics. are never hear good of themselves, and, young men of the present day don’t, pick and‘ choose their expressions with the circumspeotion their friends could-wish. ‘ Besides, granting those to, be his true sentiments of the moment, they only proved that he knew nothing, at all about you, or that it was a case of sour grapes, and. it'would be a. very interesting occupation for ' you now to compel him to recant or repent " those sentiments.” “ Do you think I would deign—J’ “There, good-night, dear,” concluded/ Lady Perriman, with a. yawn; “ and forget this thrilling) anecdote.” . ' CHAPTER II. "'“ FROST AND TBAW. T-nnauwasa dance at the Hall the second ' A good evening after Max Lydell’s arrival. many of the young people of the neighborhood were invited to come up after dinner. Fairly good musicians were provided, and without much ceremony or preparation a most enjoy- able ‘ ning came off. 1 La ,. gath j gs She liked dancing forthe same ' ‘j a at she liked or disliked anything—viz” hot bestow gift upon her 1‘ i I hear the an-: . “ Listen- » 1.. Perriman affected such impromptu, _ ability or inability to, shine» therein. . the belle, of course,this evening-Au- ‘ 1'5 y in request as this latter young. lady egd]egéiqavas,land‘bea§1titully as she danced, 311° 02““ F .1. '“These dreadful, floundering countrymen!” V she sighed,]slowly recOVering. from a hardly- “ hit young squire’s trots temps. “I wish I could dance with Alberta; there isn’t. another. ‘decentst in the room. Yes, she has found . one,” as’ :- ladyship’s silken skirts float by, , steered smoothly and truly through the jog: ' ging and hopping, dashing and charging, maze with which the room is filled; and then Au— ' brey’s envious eyes recognized her cousin’s , partner, and she resolved that her own waltz- 1 ing was at an end for that evening: She would not be bumped about. as these , other men styled dancing, before Max Lydell’s quiet, supercilious watching. Major Macarthy pleaded for a galop; the smitten young Squire implored one valse; and __ the doctor par emcellence of , the neighborhood f could not, realize a mazourka refused; but pretty Miss Attison was firm. ' She kept Major, and Squire, and doctor he- 4 side her; for it was no part of her programme to act the deserted wallflower, and she smiled , and listened to each in turn, conscious the, while~of Alberta’s mauve train and musical laugh passing and‘repassing, and of the darkly handsome face bending over her cousin’s sunny hair-«curiously conscious, too,.of the exact ex- pression that face is wearing, and how seldom its glance is turned uponherself. “ “ Have you and my cousin danced together , yet?” asked my lady of Mr. Lydell, as the i» ' music struck up. “ Oh, Aubrey, take one turn! Your steps will match exactly. He is such a relief after the aborigines,” she laughed in her cousin’s can/and ulided away. {May I have the pleasure?” inquired Ly- dell. ‘ ' r How could he say less? ‘ ‘ “You must really excuse, me. I am too tired.” " » ‘ “ For just One turn!” i. “Certainly.” ' . - V He stood“ there, still apparently waiting; and as Aubrey turned her attention pointedly toward the doctor, she was conscious that Lyn ' dell’s'vdar-k eyes were still resting on her face. ' As the consciousness grew' unbearable, she », flashed round to meet them haughtily. '_ “,For the last time of asking, Miss Attison,” V he laughed. And the girl a moment after knew not what had prompted her, whether the ~ , "magnetism of the steady‘gaze,‘ or the irresis- tible strains of the weird “ Manolo;” but cer- “ _', zjected] valse, galop, and mazourka' aspirants, v the had laid her hand on their rieal’s shoulder, . ' surrendered her other to his close, Iwarm clasp, ,2' 5‘; indirect among them floated away. ' " 1 . Only one turn hadlAubrey tacitly granted, ‘ butcher the partners she has struggled With: ’x " . ,gtsnennlroninarlj . " to, the: pleasure of a step" even as her‘own, and v ' a guidance as safe as smooth, was more than‘ ,. . , she could relinquish the moment it has begun. . Only when the long-played valse ended with. ‘ 13 a-crash dichubr-ey reluctantly pause at the V opposite end of the room to where still r, and glared the Major, the Squire, andxthe doctor. ' _ ’ ' “ V ' ” ' “There are upbraidings, stern, pathetic, a, _ argumentative, awaiting you; no doubt about it,” laughed Lydell, with a glance across] ' “ They all dance so ,fea’rfully bad,” she muf- _ mured, self-excusingly; “the Major clearing "" the room like a cavalry charge; Mr: Donning-j 5 ton maintaining his own rights, irrespective 0! any other unfortunate couple’s; and Mr. ‘Lané ~ don-well, he might not be so bad if he hadjanp idea of time or tune. Still, 'I think 'I must'go“, acress and make my peace, with them if I '7 for they are all great-friends of mine out of a a ball-room.” ._ ' “I see. You like friendship with tions, and by a division of your friends/into distinct circles for separate uses, prevent the monotony attaching to the thing as genes? rally understood. So many dancing ‘triepda. so many for flirting, such a number for ‘ town, ' and such a number for country, etc. A ve‘ryfi; good plan, I have no doubt, provided that oath ‘ ’ favored individual knows his own place, never presumes out of it, nor interferes with his neighbors. But,vof course, youarrange all; " that?” ~ I ; , , The keen sarcasm of the tone flushed All-é;- brey’s face, us she looked up and smiled, ‘ ,. ' " “ I must compliment you as you compile mented Major Macarthy last “evolving,” she said, “upon the profundity. of your discern-l ment; and, of course. it is’ easy for you now to understand how I can find pleasure in danc- .\ ing, say, with a man for whom, socially, I entertain the greatest aversion.” ' " ’ jg, . “ How pleasantly you put it i” he solitude iniringly. Then, after a pause, “ You"learned.»' dancing in Germany, it I may judge your step?” . - t “ I was educated there. 'Were you?” I “ Not educated, but I have had a good deal 9!? practice at one time or, another in, the Father- 'land.’ Heavy and clumsy as those Teutons‘ are, they can dance, can’t they?" ‘And ‘loitéfi ing still at the further and of the room,th ‘, " f‘. tain it was that in the very faces of the re- » Supper assuaged Mr.-Donnington’§ :flnd’tho music. inactivély listening 1 other, it ’ hidden by forming Lancers from those‘ir'ate, % and ill-treated medical and martial eyes,~Au-'~~ brey insensibly~ found herself drifting 4 amicable conversation under the guise "at tinental-discussion. , " > " ' ‘ feelings, while a quadrille wash 80p in» to one, andfia pretty'speech to the/other,“ his companions’in’ neglect; but; 'somehpwgfi vetting V' fps-qu7? y, u." '_- s. . i ;_3 * , A r , ,..‘ .-.A .—~.....:_...._.s.-..._......-......... n. ‘ .‘ Lydell had danced again, and more-than once,‘ atOgether. A ’ " -, ‘ _-"‘l-have a plan for you all to-day,”«an- g yinounced my lady, a few mornings subse ent- " . 1y; “Those who please'may ride, and 033 who please may walk; but no truancy will be to return by train.” ., .' “From where?” cried a 'chorus of eager - ‘gzvoices; r 1 thrilling romances, and inhabited by a living “ ' 119th of the nineteenth century, to be seen ' spoken with." "@013 course‘there arose delight and anticipa- ~ tion; andehoever failed to anticipate delight “Sir Edgar was spending the day in town, and " his lady’s'will reigned law. a Perriman Hall was filling as its mistress wished, and it was a goodly party that sallied forth on the‘healthy, exhilarating wall: over the, heather. and‘through the woods. talus-moreover, longer. , . p ,1. Luncheon was conveyed by the Hall ser- " ' vents, and spread in the room which the her- ,tnit. in: his own. solitude, thoughtfully provided 101'. such public requirements. . . . * ‘ , It was a merry meal, done justice to; and ‘ then followed the interviewing of the oracle, andfmany truisnis uttered in solemnity, with 3a} raw; carefully guarded predictions that could ,o'fiendn0 oneian'd‘ran no risk of ever proving themselves false, but which took so long to ,declardg that when some one by chance ex- ,g’claimed, “ What time does our train go?” the ple.who knew were astonished to find that there‘was barely time to catch it; and as it A. wasjthe only train that could help them on “ their homewardway, there set in a general ', rush? toward the little country station. lawns twenty minutes’ walk'there by'th'e " proper road; ten by a fly and a scramble over runners ahead to stop the train. , ‘ 1‘ And not oneof Aubrey’s admirers was near ‘ effect of wholesale Isnubbing for which she ‘ , had herself to. thank—when she caught her ’ ' flounces in some unseen wire netting, and each ' V. ' efl’orttshe made to free herself rendered her ~ but the closer prisoner. .. “ rut, dear! Make haste 1” articulated Miss Lay” straining every nerve after a certain brown coatahead. ‘ " .-,“_Oh, tear your dress, Aubrey. .. You’ll 3 never "get it undone without,” advlsed my ‘ fields andgaps. A mad race, with the fleetest ‘ f , “From the curious old(,hermitage in Hound ‘ ~ Wood; 'a grotto thronged with legends and a l p": 'm'u'st neVertheless go forth in search of it, for ‘ i brey’s eyes were riveted on the ground; her" ‘l ‘lady‘, gliding pastwith a captain of humars in , ‘5 “deflatigable attendance. 1 ' , allowed on any pretext whatever.- My own ' "opmion is that the walkers will have the best A ' of it this lovely day, and they will be allowed I ‘ " ‘No one rode, for the bridle-path was uncer- fis~w than wire, and Aubrey tried as vainly to tear the one as the other. To strip her dress of its multitudlnous frills would certainly be a work of time; but the girl began it bravely, and had demolished a‘ yard' or v two by tb time the train-catchers' voices grew inaudible. “ Can I be of any assistance?” inquired cool, unexpected voice from behind. ' “ You’ll certainly lose your train,” was Miss Attison’s not irrelevant reply. , ’ “I never intended otherwise, though I must say my chance of catching it seems as good as your own at present,” he rejoined, and smiled. “ Have you a knife? Quick l” Lydell drew out the useful weapon in pro! ' voking hesitation. “Isn’t it a pity?” _ ‘ , - ‘ I ' The shrill railway whistle came clear on the breeze, and Aubrey’s foot stamped. “ Will you let nie be the judge of that, and simply do as you are asked?” ' Without another wordhe drew the blade sharply across and across, and as the pretty kilt- ings lay wrecked on the g1 09nd, she was awi;y like an arrow from a bow, breathlessly run- ning, when again the fatal what a sounded; ‘ “ Too late, Miss Attison. That wholesale destruction was, useless,” said the young man coolly at her side. ” r " “That may not be the train, or the others may not all have caught it,” she urged; but,” alas! they reached the platform onl y tovfind it deserted—not one companion in Amisfortune visible. ' - ' “I am very sorry for you,” observed Ly- dell, forgivingly. “I always intended walk- ing back myself, but you will be so fearfully tired, I’m afraid.” { ~ ‘ “ I shall not‘be tired in the least. It is not the distance I mind.” r “ But the company,” he rejoined, equably; “ which, I fear, is as inevitable as, the walk. Unless,” as if struck by a sudden idea, “ we march apart at a certain regulation. distance— , say just beyond sight or just within hail—- "which will render you still under my protec- tion, but relieved—” u Dumb tax your inventive powers any fur- lther,” she interrupted, coldly, “unless they . can suggest something more useful than non- sense.” \ For some time they walked on, those two' figures, in a rigid silence, side by side. Au; companiOu’ as persistently upon herself; and in spite of e unprovoked rudenesses he had winced under and resented, he could not help that glance iii-om gradually growing an ap- pmving one; , - The tall, lithe figure his own towered above was so easily graceful; the 01th profile I Wiu you cut it! p m:_.\ . j ‘ ‘ . u g ‘ M, V 2‘ , _ _- , I . ;( ,. 9W-‘W0m itself 0115, M193. AWN)“ and M13! V But good strong sergeis little less substantial, f we?“ . n» ’ ‘ “I : r i a 3/, "‘f, ,.‘;_.‘ ,\ .x ., . A}. v contradict even his own practical experience, and give the new the looks and Words that were sharper than blows. ' -r As the silence grew marked, the stile leading into the wood; and, while helping his companion over, Lydell made some slight remark about English country life, and, the barrier once skilfully removed, kept the, conversation as persistently afloat. ' >Aubrey was difficult at flrst—taciturn and uninterested; but impercsptibly by and by the rare charm of manner—Lydell’s own when he chose—4 told upon herin spite of herself. He could be a brilliant conversationalist—a most fascinating one when he pleased. Gifted? with easy command and perfect choica of language, vivid powers of descriptive memory and imagination, light glancing satireth ex- - erted each and, all in that afternoon walk over the thiclestrewn leaves, and soon saw the spell work. , ' From monosyllables Aubrey deigned ques- _ tions, and the next transition was easy. By 1' the time they entered the home plantation, and the girl stifled an exclamation of surprise at the apparent shortness of the walk, Max Lydell had known 'her he society generally found her—bright, sympathetic, winning. As ‘ she really was, no mere acquaintancc ever knew her. I ' The hidden depths of the character, Lydell’s penetration told him, was no common one; its truth unswerving, honor steadfast, unselfish- ness, faith and devotil n he had yet to gauge. As they entered the Hall door, Aubrey froze again. From behind .the heavy curtains cut- ting off the entrance from the further hall proceeded the chinking of cups and the laugh- ing chatter of tea-drinkers; and my lady’s voice cried sweetly. ‘.‘Don’t go up-stairs, Au- brey. gems and have some tea, dear child; you must be exhausted.” ‘ ,. .I I “ We hadunot one ofx us an idea. you were not in the train,”'observed vivacious Miss Lay. ’ = “-We imagined you were with the others; the others, of course, thought you were with us. When we got out at this station and saw you nowhere, we were just dumbfounded; were we not, Mr. Paget?” ‘ Mr. Paget, be it remarked, was the Wearer . of the brown coat. ,.: . “ Dumbfounded,” echoed that original gen-' I w tleman. ( if}; was very sly of you, MissAttison, you knew; ivory sly indeed 0“ 3°}! and my" young t,“ :lfilend, Lydell here,” waggishly onerved‘ a ‘dense old,"squire, one of Slr‘Edgar’s especml 'ci‘onies. “You might have stated your inteno Tfionshandsomely, and spared some of,us the ‘M‘ety we’ve been,enduring. Macarthyhere I ' mt; essentially; j had so: rare awhackggroundtinT theitint of thatf massed \hair; while the soft, downcast eyes and sweet pressed-together red lips seemed to' they reached , J, _ 1 / was Wanting. o“ alter all the signals, and fares” :. the train back, or order especial tosearch for you; and as for Mr. Do‘nnington—J’ ' ._ g “If Mr. Dennington’s. anxiety, or yours ‘ ’ shall we say, Mr. Turner,” Aubrey laughingly carried the War into the enemy’s camp, “had been aroused early enough to have come to my rescue whenvI was caught like a spider a net, I’ should have been grateful, and: " would" have been spared, such terrible sufler~ " ing.” ’ ‘ . 7 f . . ~. ‘ “ Ha, he?! caught in a net, Were you? You? ' now, or Mr. Lydell? Ha, ha! a net! Capital joke!” Aubrey took her tea, and tossed aside her hat as she sunk into the chair by the“ v : leaping and cracklingup the old-fashioned ‘- neY- f' “Yours was very impossible adizice “about” tearing my dress, Alberta. I should havebee ' ' imprisoned in that-gap ztd’this hour itiMr Lydell had not luckily come past with:;; knife.” I ' . J , “ Sly dog—sly dog!” laughed the rubicundjr . ‘ » Mr. Turner, enjoying himself immensely.» '~'_; “ And there are my flounces left lamented,?’z' continued Miss Attison, holding up-her motile; lated skirt. . ‘ " ‘ 5, ‘ “ Well, you are here now, dear; n‘d theihdéth‘ venture might have ended worse,” m’y marked, placidly.‘ ' ‘ ‘ " * if“ " “Most decidedly.” agreed ',Lydell’s 1 * voice. - “May I trouble you for anot “ Most decidedly, for Lydell, confoufid'himi’i muttered Mi“. Donnington; in the loud asidéfio! '. jealousy. , .7 _' “Miss Attison, I dare say, found the more pleasant than you or I should have (103633” chimed in, with the sweetness of spiieg‘a ture young lady who had had views Ohm own regarding handsome Max Lydellnyiewai which, unfortunately, henever seemed capath of understanding. “Yen are so fond or, mg, I know, dear”'(with a honeyed ‘turn'to Aubrey); “and those woods in the gloss mustbe chamingly romantic.” ' ‘ ' A, a . “And dreary,” Miss Attison finished, clear-j ly. “It might have beena walk to yourt'astie; ' Laura; for myself, I don’t see how my’ ture, as Alberta calls it, could have much worse, unless it had necessitated-a longs? walk under the same circumstances.” ; ' { She looked not at Miss Laura Bromléy at her companion of that walk, as she the last words, her eyes. meeting his steadily! with a defiant flash in their beauty. -' I j “ The statue itself again, with a, he thOught, watching the haughty~~girl sessing herself of her hat to: retire"'inp§stairs.« “I would give a year‘s income to. this woman,”—-he paused a.,moment, with .;~ /. contrasting remembrance Of thatdrahk ' upturned to his in the;woods,‘then' the thought as once bef¢re—-:‘."oit > ‘/ , ;’ ,. "baseman m." " ‘ , . rarnnns barons!" . “We ereeu quite’interested in this letter .. f'r ~s, -‘ “Effluent i I » v L ‘ ,“Ilm dammed-antheseuis‘oeer’ge Skips. “worth,” persisted Aubrey’s low/voice. . ‘f From the north he came, and Went to Australia. 'He has gained his object, and is coming home to :4 I. I waiting for you,” laughed Lady Perriman, in ' (as he thinks, poor fellow) claim you. Alberta,” ‘ her morning greeting to Mr. Lydell. “It has firmled' about so per-severineg in search of v i. you, and its cemplicity of directions so nearly: you are doing at; present, I hope, my dear," , “ Skipworth—the ‘ " occasioned old Bubbs, at the post-office here, a fit. He sent up a touching message with the ' g letterebag this morning, hoping you would ‘ satisfactory.” .m ,“It is satisfactory, thanks,” said Lydell, re- Lfolding the {Creign document. “Good news. .‘ QAD old‘triend, whom I had not expected tosee ,, iffor years,” he continued, after pausing to ex— " change a chilly greeting with Miss Attison, Who came gliding in at the moment, elegant .‘ end blooming, “is on his way home from Aus- " tralia. An unexpected stroke of good fortune fluid has attained its end, and ended itself.” ' ’ 1-.‘3‘. Is be from this-neighborhood? Any name ,' (Two? know!" inquired my lady, politely inter- » \ e‘sted. ivv“No"; he is a-'.north-countryman—George kipvgorth.” And as he uttered the name, it "opposite, andktoo well/did he know her counte- ’ to‘mistake the signs of disturbance on it ~~‘uevw . _' He. followed the direction of her glance to- viwardfiher cousin, but no statue could be less, “Wire. of agitation than Lhdy Perriman out tea and raising her bright face to 1 greet/a fresh entrance of laggard breakfa‘sters. " “Ah, you are north-country, Miss Attison, tool? ‘Lydell said, quickly.‘5 “Do you flmothhe name at all?" p .1 ‘uI'knew a Mr. Skipworth once—slightly,” stemmered, taken unawares, and under quiet gene faintly coloring. “It is not such an uncommon name, cer- tainly.» . You told me ‘ once, it I remember rightly, that you tookrather a special interest Australia. ' You must let me introduce my 7 friend and his reliable information.” ES: i Effie-will be making some stay with youi’? ' thermwas an accent in her voice the mightjndicate anxiety. , “Some little Slay, no doubt}? ' 1- I on the terrace, Aubrey’s hand slipped _ through her, cousin’s arm, and Aubrey’s anx- — j blue eyes were raised to her couSln’s race. . «Alberta, you heard Mr. Lydell at breakfast? , on, board tram. whom he said his letter ~‘ if ’um' 83» ‘ knew the absurd surmises you are going to in- ~','_bre'y‘,;how can yguhe such a perfect goose?” responded ;.Alberta,g. ~very tpleasantly, shaking ,_ herself tree. ‘ _ , - having befallen him, his banishment from Eng-, 5c a‘ncegl that his eyes strayed across to Aubrey I ? what shall you do?” I -, “ Display a little more commOn sense than with her pretty laugh. name is as common, as stones on the road in the north. There me be a hundred Skips worths seeking fortunes abroad at this identi- cal moment, for anything you or I know; an- }other hundred successful searchers on their 1" f “I” hear you now, and your tragic tone; and , 7 flictupon me, if I’ll listen, which I won’t. Au-n homeward way to join expectant friends. Don’t conjure up any more impossible horrors, I beg of you, my dear; but come and have a little tennis practice. ,Captain Fusell,”-—-to that gallant hussar oflicer appearing on the steps,—“we are organizing a return match; will you play?” a Time certainly wands his flight pleasantly at Perriman Hall. ' I If Sir Edgar be stifl', and slow, and crotch- ety, as some of his younger guests aver, no siren could be more bewitching than his wife. No hostess could be more unfailing in pleasant re- , source and suggestion; no organizer could be more indefatigable or successful than Lady Per- riman; so time flies apace in rides and drives, shooting and billiards, strolls on the terrace, and tea in the hall. Musical evenings and im- promptu dances or theatricals, with misjh and flirtation, pervading all. Guests came, and . guests went; and Max 1 Lydell yielded willingly enough to his host’s repeated entreaties that he would censider. the Hall his home untilhis OWn place was thorough- ly ready to receive him. Naturally or arrangedly, he and Miss Atti- ,. sen were thrown very much together, but he had not yet fathomed the secret of her per- plexing caprice—nor had he subdued" it. He found it quite an engmssing study, though, that caprice; good to enliven what might be otherwise monotonous evenings, ta. diversify breakfasts and alternoon tea, and fill up many idle moments interestingly, for Au- brey had varied of late. ' Constant dropping, they say, wears away stone. Unremitting perseverance Wins a smile now and again; and occasionally, and, as it generally seemed, in temporary fergetfulness, the girl could not help being her natural, true—- hearted self toward the man to whom in reac- tion the next minute she might be ice and in- ' ‘solence. Lady Perriman was in, her element in the house filled by her own invitations, Admiration and homage was ‘as neceSSary to her as air; and well-dressed, Courteous puppets, ' . obedient to her touch on the strings, formed the court her grace and beauty loved bestto. kg-e'mxshn.‘ x. 7153: rule over, so that not many sparks of genius or , weights of sense were as a rule t0‘be found in Perriman Hall. (Such frivolous assemblages, chattering away i life, were hardly more‘to Aubrey’s taste than thebne or two minds heavily stocked with agriculture and nothing else, in whose society 3 alone Sir Edgar found delight. so many more congenial invitations were pressed, still lingered here, and Aubrey said it was because she had promised-not to desert her cousin that autumn. . _ Mr. Lydell knew it was from Terriman Hall alone that he could personally superintend the alterations in progress at his own place. They were grouped at tennis one afternoon; my lady, who was a splendid player, standing on one side of the net with Captain Fusell, her favored cavalier of the moment, and with whom she was carrying on as near an approach to flirtation as fear of her husband’s patent , jealousy, and the uncertainty of the form that jealousy might take on emergency, would allow. ‘ - Were it not for such wholesome fear, her pladyship would be what her nature prompted ——a. desperate flirt; and as it was, her inordinate love of and craving for admiration clarified her pretty far that way, and put her diplomacy'to severe tests now and again to avert thereon; . sequences of her own folly. ’ Aubrty, was standing on the opposite side of ‘ the net, with Max Lydell by her side; and Aubrey was cross, for she played tennis badly, and disliked it, and saw through her cousin’s inveiglement of herself/that afternoon. ' “You are prepared for another beating, of coursa’i” was her cheering remark to her, part- _ ner. “You seem to find more pleasure in , them than I can truthfully say I do.” “If the fight be a good one, I don’t mind its result,” he laughed. “‘But I scarcely think our opponents will have it all their own way this time.” ‘ “ As far as I am concerned, they certainly will,” she answered, disagreeably. Yet, in spite of herself, she got excited in the game as the balls bOunced, and flew, and avoided the ground; and from admiration of the ease and dexterity with which her com- panion supplied all deficiencies on her part, was roused to exert herself in emulation; caught a ball or so cleverly; elicited commendation from Major Macarthy, who hurried eagerly up the terrace to look on; then flew after a higher ball Lydell was calculating to take, jumbled up against him, and, slipping, fell a pretty heap (ct cashmere on the asphalte floor. ' ' The bit of indie-rubber rolled away unheed‘ " i t ed. as he bentin instant aolicitude over bar. winners realises.” ,_ ' V E a murderer’s depthnf remorso. Max Lydell not unfrequently told himself 3. ' the same fact; and yet those two, upon whom i rave about” “ It was my confounded clumsinessl I shall ‘, p ' never forgive myself if you are hurt.” - 3 “ I am not,” she said, promptly rising,"with« ' out notice of his profiered hand. “ At least,“ not much.” - ' » v ' p , r “Your wrist is bleeding; I have hurt you v ' wr'etchédlyl” he persisted, in a tone Suggesting ” ‘ “It was not‘you in the least. It was my . own awkwardness entirely ”——with those beauti— * 1: ful eyes raised frankly to his. . i V, 1 3 '1’ “ Can you go on playing?" asked my lady, " t~ ; averse to having her amusement interrupted. 1; 51‘. “If you think you can’t manage, Major “Will be delighted to he of mamas, 2' ished that buoyant gentleman, “ although v 3.5:: well aware what an inferior substitute he will. be,” a . , a , “Perhaps Mr. Lydell may tell another,“ story. He knows my tennis capabilities inti- mately now!” Aubrey laughed. ‘ v ,I “Miss Attison at tennis is just what at everything else—perfectibn I” the unscrupulous Irishman. ~. ' ; “Is that your verdict?” Aubrey mischiev- ously turned to her late partner. » _ A p “With the reservation of tennis, yes!” he] .- .. said, slowly fixing his eyes on hers, 7. tone too low for any ears but here tocatchl . ‘ She crimsoned furiously, and bent. to ban-' dageher wrist. Q . » ‘ ' .. a ‘7 1‘ “ I detest compliments!” iii a hautéur' sibly intended as the Major’s rebuff. “Who-1. ever troubles to pay me them only whatever respect I hold him In.” i .4 _v ,' “ And if already held in none! How do: they - aflect his position, then?” inquired Lydell; quietly, while the Major hastened~to.‘excus£.» himself. ~ ' ' ,. ' ' “ And what compliment can there tie-4‘1 ap- peal to the company generally—in fact? In the face of your insinuati Him Attison, unjust as cruel, Ihold to my tions, and prove them. You ride‘tO‘peffectioml you drive to perfection! Pray, ,where’s the compliment in that?” ' g , f , “ Oh, I’m not a bit deficient in self-apprmf, ciation,” the girl laughed. “I know ‘ , I I what I can do, and didn’t find fault with .‘ for declaring I could ride or drive.” ' r , “Hear that, now!” turning “And if I say you dance to perfection; dress-u to perfection, talk, flirt, charm to. ’ am I complimentary there?” '_ ‘ ’ y ‘ “No; but shirking the point of dispute,.. which was tennis 1” _ L ,; ' “ Sure, and does every one think alike! Can’t there be two opinions about perfection," in in paltry game like that? And if I carflhpidhnql and you the other, without any thought pt: campliments, this isn’t the tree Mei 0 .«W Y ‘ .erEDGELD‘w? .i,» r. an ' " "“fsx'v ,“Will you give us practical demonstration , ‘ of your tennis opinions?” said, my lady, laugh- . mg, but tired of the. interruption; and forth- 5 ‘ " :with the warrior, with a wave of his racket, ‘rushed into the melee. , “MisslAttison, on have not yet deigned' to V , answer my questi n,” Max observed, standing ' ~ ,: by the corner, where she leaned with her 'ban- ' daged hand to watch the finish of the game. , '. "‘ Your question? I’m afraid I must trouble ..y0u to repeat it.” . “Very simple arithmetic. I zed a certain quantity of respect lose so much u ‘ ' by a certain number of compliments, how do ’ j the same compliments affect the man already . held in no respect?” ‘ ' She shrugged her pretty shoulders. r '. o n. , the for whom entertain no respect.” ‘ _“No_?’" he questioned, skeptically. “Then ’ disrespect and dislike are not synonymous?” ~ But coloring deeply, she turned away. Dinner'was later than usual that evening, to ,. accommodate business of Sir Edgar’s, and the space'between tea,andlthe dressing-bell seem- ed unusually long. ; / ’I Aubrey, sauntering into the drawing~room, wound it gloomy and unlighted, with melan- -‘ehol’y shadows in its vastness that, neVerthe- fimind, than the giggling. chatter floating from :up-stairs, or the desultory knocking about of billiard-balls from across the hall. - I ' "'3 Passing through the larger, she seated herself at the piano in the smaller drawing-room, -where,,th0ugh the chandeliers were unlighted, :the y are was brighter, and the dark corners it ,' ,. played the accompaniment to her own thoughts, _ ' They were and ones, if the music told true— , west, lo'w, pathetic strains, played with a and depth of expression that will be wantiug'in that brilliant fantasia she will ac- quitherseltpf at my lady’s customary request threebr four hours later, and so as much bet- 'ter’,worth hearing' than that dashing public “.mrIOrmance as three heartfelt words are to j‘th'ree' houré’ head speech. ’ The dreamy, white fingers told no fibs—Au~ "brey’s thoughts Were sad. Bravely as she bore herself: before her cousin, she *was also too, {i sweetly feminine not to feel acutelythe un- pleasantness of the position she must perforce accept-J. ,, {The uncertainty, the possibilities, the ban- _ dage'of present and future, were pressing Very "h'eavlly-on her mind just, then; and did she not play, Aubrey might sit and cry—~albeit‘ that smash unsatisfactory weakness her brave na~ are uttcrly scornigd. ’ long she had been not alone in the room I If a man grant- 3 . “I always hated arithmetic, and my expe- , : rience is at fa 1t here; for I do not know any ‘ flees,‘yaccorded better“ with her present tone of * “nearer, and her fingers, wandering over the‘ she knew not, when at length she resetemlose 5 the instrument witha sigh; and “avoice from. the fireside said, earnestly,,‘F\MuSt you really stop? _Oh, please, one thing more!” a " Mr. Lydell! When did you com her startled answer. , t t , He was stretched full length on the couch, with his hands clasped above his head in an at- titude ofluxurious and perfect enjoyment, in; terrupted as Miss Attison crossed to the are, ; and he rose slowly to his feet. ~ “I beg your pardon; your music brOught me. Thanks, so much, Miss Attison; it has been delicious.” _ , “Iwas playing for myself, and, as I imag- ined, to myself,’ she returned, civilly; and he laughed. ' * “ I assure you I was quite conscious of how little you thought you were conferring pleas- ? ure on me; nevertheless, you have done so, , and I thank you all the same.” She stooped ‘ to warm her hands, and he continued present- ly: “ That was not your usual Style of playing, l and was a little mournful, wasn’t it?” .i ‘ l “ We cannot be always in exuberant spirits.” ' “It was as my mother used to play, in the twilight; and I, a boy, stretched at her feet for hours, listening. Do you know, I could almost : have fancied it years ago again; myself with- 1 out the knewledge of the world’s care or grief, and the only woman I ever loved my guardian angel once again.” , , a ‘ Aubrey did not laugh at the dreamy ton at the softened, intense look inthe eyes turn; upon her. Into her lovely fare there sprung its greatest soul-subduing charm, sympathy; and Lydell started at the wondrous beauty of the girl he had never seen as now. ' “You were very fond of your mother—tell me about her. I Should like to hear!” _ In the soft, ’subtle light bathing her radiant hair, and lingering in the gray folds on her dress, he talked and she listened, her glance frankly meeting his, her voice winning hinrout of himself. . ‘ x In the firelight they fergot; and when the servant entered with lights, and Miss Bromley, following, declared, meaningly, “ We have been looking for you ,two separately every where; what a nice little flrelit tete-a-tetefl am' ' disturbing, to be sure!” Aubrey answered, in full remembrance: , “ To me, at all events, a very Welcome in- terruption, I assure you, Laura.” “Aubrey, do you mind driving to Bolton this morning?” Lady Perriman asked, a few days after. “Miss Bromley- wants to catch the express, and it does not stop at this station you know“ The luggage has gone on, and I meant to drive Laura myself, but find I can’t " very well leave home this morning.” - . Aubrey would do more than drive to Bolton} to get rid of-Miss,'Bromley, her girlish - ' e3 in?” was, i L I in foolish Chatter,” if I do not. Shall I? Quiet, Didol carriage came around at the proper time, and my lady was left to profitably spend her morn- ing on a couch wit a novel, or on the terrace ile Aubrey did the long, cold drive bravely, find congratulated herself when Miss Bromley said her amicable farewell on the Bolton platform. Then the girl did a few errands for her cousin in the town before she drove thoughtfully home through the lanes, ' which, perfectly lovely in summer, were dreary slush now. ' - 'Half—way home, in a lane whose rats were deeper and its banks higher than ever, the young lady was startled by a jolt, a. drop, and a frightened start forward of the pony she had—r luckily well in hand, and rolling away to, the ditch before her, Aubrey saw neither more nor lessthan one of her carriageewheels. “ Here is a predicament!” she sighed, when, having succeeded in pulling up the startled pony, she stood at its head in the mud, and looked vainly about for help, ’or sign of it. “What in the world I am to do, exccpt un- harness the pony and lead it home, I have no idea. And the mud and the distance—ugh!” She stood patting the shivering pony awhile, berta’s tiger, then began in despair among the straps and buckles, but her flngersrwere chilled, and Dido’s uneasiness was increasing every inoment. ’ Suddenly on the still air came the bark of a ' dog, and the tones of amen shouting to the animal. ‘ "‘I know that voice,” said Aubrey, with a slight accession of color, and a curious inde- cision, considering her only wish a moment ago was for sign of some human presence. meGED T0, M4433? tatlons and her bitter tongue, so the. pretty ' he answered With peculiar emphasis. - and regretting her scornnt rejection of Al— 5 . waited, till he had put the pony again in the f shafts, and assured her, “ It is all satenowt. , and if you’ll get in and hold the reins, I will ‘~ i walk by the side and keep .an eye 'on that “ Shall I call to him or not? He will pass on ‘ V Oh, dear! it it were but the Major or any one else! Shall I call him! No, I don’t think I will.” Then the setter cleared the hedge before the pony’s very nose, and restless Dido gave a shrill neigh in recognition of a friend. “ What are you up 1:0 DOW, Bet?" said her master, leisurely following to ascertain where? ‘ tore his whistle was disregarded. , “ Why, Miss Attison, you have come to‘ griefl Was it a spill, or how did it hap- en?” “The wheel rolled 011' of its own accord, I assure you; and we have been standing in this interesting position, Dido and I, for an age, as 7' 3 [it has seemed to me." “ “ Why in the world didn’t you call me?” he 1mm, deposit ting his gun safely against a tree a and making rapid work of that unharnessing. ' “ I should not have seen you at\all but for Set’s ofliciousness; but you must have heard the row {wanna-king. Why did not you. 011111”, . was “WW WWW: path?’ she asked, evading his question. , ,_ ' He glanced up from the traces he Was' 51500;» I " ~ ing over, to the lovely face, with its haughty’ 5‘ s.amp that he knew so well. .‘ ' ‘ I I, I l “ Coming back. I’ve been taking my gun I to Locker’s—a little thing I wanted him, to set right; and intended to strike across these fields _ into the flr-covers, and so join the other men? ,_ ' “Iam sorry you should be so detained.” __ 5‘ H . ' ; {:3 “ A hd I am not at all sorry to be so detained,” r ’ Andshe " stood silently watching him as he tastened Dido to the nearest fence, and threwthe fur rug over her, ere stooping'to examine the cal“ riage. ’ x , , r j g e “ The linch-pin is broken, but I think I can " manage a temporary substitute.” s’, w » ‘ “ Can I help at all?” she volunteered, rather , confusedly. “That is dreadfully heavy. for, ,4 you to lift alone.” _. A , x “Dreadfully heavy for you to attemptfito‘ handle; and it is so muddy here.” He raised 4 ‘ his head'concernedly. “Over there by Dido \ will be dryer for you, if you don’t mind; anda‘, I will have this all right—temporarily, that is I, * to say-in a few minutes.” v ' * "1,, Obediently she went,”_jand obedihtly she \ “Were you going'into Bolton bythe wheel. You won’t object to my gun; it loaded.” . r ‘ 4 r( “ I couldn’t think of taking you so compléte 1 ly out of your way,” she said, “I; am ex- tremely obliged to you for what you have. done, and can get home now alone, just; _ well as I came.” *‘ ., ‘ I ' ‘_-:,"‘?j “ With the chance of a few repetitions of the,“ accident between here andhome.’ I have only} managed a temporary repair, I told you.“ I ' ' Aubrey was again about to speak, but Ly.- dell went on. . 4 "7 T “Exouse me, Miss Attison, but these lanes: are free to every one; and if I incline to pace slowly down them in your Wake, I 021911015566.»- that you have any right to object." : ' ' She laughed, and got into the carriagegand for some time there reigned an.,awkward7~“' silence, broken abruptly by Lydell thus: “And . y , why did. you prefer standing alone, and, in, ; " mud, beside a. disabled carriage and fidgety; . pony, with three good miles before youto be: 'L‘ traversed somehow, to uttering one sound to' bring me to your assistance?”, ' The ‘question was so unexpected, that’fthe girl, With no crushing answer ready, to‘ok’ree - rugs-in evasion. “Did I declarermy‘pmfei‘ 91300?” '.i . A , " 4 f‘ Certainly; by your action—or, rather,“ 1 .. ’ for ' even old Turner, been Set's companion just . V - ,;, now, you know you Would have called either your aid unhesitatingly. To an , utter {atranger _ you would have done the Same; to V any one but the man you dislike most in the world.” » V) , Aubrey—whose ready speech so rarely de— sorted. her—— could find 'no word to utter; and ' :Max, after a glance at the fair, disturbed face, softened his tone. . Sionl One takes dislikes involuntarily and ‘ a g ‘V without conscious reasoning, we know; but . " this aversion of yours to me seems something 'more than that, and yet I am utterly ignorant ’. V , '01 any offense given. If there has been such, ' ' " I- swear it has been unknmvineg—I need ‘ 'rhardly say unintentionally, for I would forfeit V vélands, wealth, name” (and the passion inthe ' .“th’rilling tones was but the stronger for ist sup- ' ;pression), “ay, life itself, rather than harm or I :displease you by word, look, or action; and—I VV'thinkyou know as much.” . If to be pale and agitated said anything, she did know it; nay, more, believed it. In the .' V tumult of her mind she argued, Should she tell ‘ 'him how‘ unwitting was his oflense—how deep- lythe careless words, whose utterance he has fine doubt long forgotten, have been ringing in ‘f the ears he never intended to hear them? .Shouldshe repeat them to him frankly now, ‘ forgiving and forgetting, make friends as ‘ evidently wished, and end this warfare, of {Which ‘ she was (her traitor heart told her) so V‘desperatel'y weary? V ‘ .‘L~;:The confession is trembling on her tongue, f: When her. evil genius whispers, “How mean despicable he would think such malice home so long, and from cause so trivial! .w should I, by so humiliating a confession, de- ‘any the respect 1 have Wrested from him at ‘ sleet.” - ‘ ‘ friendshipwmore than friendship it must never bee-eund let such sorry bygones rest. : 7 So she tuned with a light in her liquid eyes, . V7 jand with her own bright smile, “I have no 3 explanation to offer, Mr. Lydell;. but I think, aperhaps i‘fgmy pride will let me, a few apologies V ’_‘ ‘ V‘goh‘d many—and cessation of hos- Qilitiesb” ' ~ xiiikAnd what do you ofler in their place?), be queried, with that quiet, unfathomable smile. ‘V"“;Friendship,-V if you like-sincere friend- - n. ' I - ' the words, smilingly; but did not look 7 ' " ‘even when he took; it «in his strong, clasp, that held it so ntth closer, so eager, than even the importance of the on,denian.,led. : I heartily: “ ~ n it amt ‘ 7 , memento “How have I earned your invincible aver-i Why , V ,L V {Far better quietly to accept his overtures of} isiaé put-out her hand, half timidly, as she! and never ’shall you? have cause to" repent your _ ‘ kindness.” . ‘ . V. . V, Had her ofler been of herself“ and her aflec— tions, his thanks could not have been more chivalrous or more fervently uttered, she thought; and, V, to cover her embarrassment, said, with a laugh, ‘fYou catalogued my circle of friends once, do you remember? Under which heading now do you wish to enroll you‘r- { self—country driving?” . , V “Don’t'remind me of past rudeness,” he pleaded. . enough.” / . t Then they turned into the park, and the guns from the home plantations. rung into the conversation. ' . v Only when Aubrey was divesting herself of her hat and jacket did it occur to her to wonder how much Max Lyde'd knew respecting her engagement, .or what version of the \aflair might have reached him; also, whether; it would not have been wholesome candor on her part to have introduced that; subject, into the confidence, in case—“ in case,” she thought, abstractedly fingering the pretl y . things on the toilet table, “he might be ignorant of the whole aflair. Not that it :would matter one scrap if he were—of coursc not—only that friends should not have secrets from each other. But I dare say Alberta has told him and everybody else her version of my engage- ment. I will ask her.” ’ “Indeed I have donerno such thing,” said! my lady, when Aubrey, with some; hesitation, made that inquiry, next day. “I see no r necessity to publish »my cousin's lunacy so long as there is the chance of disinclination V on the part of the bushranger, or whatever uncouth thing he may be; or the possibility of any accident between here and V Aus- tralia, or something happy and unforeseen turn- ing up in time to save your social suicide. But why should I have confided in Max Lydell par- ticularly, pray i” she mischievously questioned. “I don’t know," stammered Aubrey, taken » aback. “Not in him particularly at all, only I think people generally may just as well kno v it now as later. It can never be more ‘ perfectly settled than at this moment—tor, ‘ ‘ Alberta, I had my answer from Mr. Grey this ,V ~ morning.” ~ “Yon did not!” I 2 .. Aubrey rose, and stood examining the flow. are in the window, with ,her back toward her l' cousin. ‘ ‘ with much apparent delight.” : ‘ ~ “ The wretchl” groaned her ladyship; ‘fioil course hedoes. Oh, Aubrey,‘what a pity you Weren’t born poor! Let him have yourmoney, and save yourself that way.” , In a’sudde'u happy burst of inspiration, “ You won’t want - yongiortuue “you Mex Lyn” . . r .: “I assure you I am quite penitent ‘ “I did. He accepts me unconditionally, and V' - when... A; "I tell you {adhere to my promise.” Au.“ " hrey interrupted, in a tone whose quickness may be temper or pain. ' ' “ Show the your love-letter, dear.” “ No; it would not be right,” excuses . bray, uneasily, destroying those flowers. r My lady, in her quick perception, smiled. “You would let me see it, dear, if it were one you were proud to show. Aubrey, I knew I am right. It is to an uneducated, halt-civilized boor you are so willfully determined to sacri- fice-yourself.‘ Now look me in the face ” (and her ladyship puts a strong white hand on either . wrist), “and say if that letter be such as a gentleman would write—such a gentleman, for . instance, as max Lydel'i" ., ' “What has ‘MaxLydell to do with it?” cried goaded Aubrey, snatching herself away from . her laughing tor-mentor. “ Yen have no right 130 suppose my future husband any less a gen- tleman than your own lord and master. He was born one, at any rate; and it is unfair to ’ judge by such a trifle as a. letter. He is com- ing over himself as soon as possible, he tells me, and then—” ’ “And then,” finished my lady, promptly, «- “you will receiVe him in rapture, with prom- isesto love, honor and'obey,” - i “I' shall- redeem my promise ”, (the sweet voice gathered firmness), “ and do my duty by , my husban ” ~ " Au- — CHAPTER IV. A“ WOMAN’S vows. “ THREE letters for you, my lady,” said Sir Edgar Perriman, courteously handing her share of the emptied bag across the breakfast- table; and my ladystifled a yawn as she turn- ed them languidly over with the tips of her ringed fingers. ‘ ' “ Alberta, what are you doing?” Aubrey cried, so suddenly that Sir Edgar elevated his eyebrows significantly. -> ‘ Lady Perriman was ‘ only pouring, in a straightforward, steady manner, the contents or the silver tea-pot over the cup and around » the cup, anywhere but into the cup before her, . with her eyes fixed on the opened letter held in her other hand. At her cousin’s exclamation she started, and g , murmurinlg something about “ this stupid tea- ‘ pot,” swept angrily 'ucrossflto the bell. As Captain Fusell and three other gentle-E men flew, like propelled pellets, to intercept her trouble, the wide, sheet of paper she held fluttered into the grate, the blaze leaped and caught it, and my lady returned to her seat smiling, as-a servant, to rectify her mistake, and Mr. Lydell, trom an anteobreakfast ride, _ entered simultaneously. ’ ’ B‘utwhen Sir’ Edgar had gone pompously, ‘forth‘ to his, morning interview with his stew- l ' 6rd and went. 'my' lady, crossing the draWing- * I o .«r \ .' _- ff / x face deeper than, hangings. ' . “It is no laughing matter now, is ' room ‘to attract Aubr‘ey’s attention to » her crewels astensibly, w liisperell' among the wools,‘ , A “Come up ‘to my boudoir, in five minutes.» - There is something I must tell you/at onceJ’I -' And when, at the appointed time, Aubrey, , g obediently ,followed to the luxurious flower; -r decked .‘boudoir', she’ found her cousin standing f ’ by the window with a shade on the lovely” I ' that cast by the rose silk-flu . . ' , ‘3, ' “ Aubrey, I had a horrible letter this morn! ing ”—-vehemently tossing a tasseL—'-“Irom ., that stupid George Skipworth himself.” ' a t . a “ And he is coming home!” Aubrey cried. “Worse than coming. He has come 1” . “Oh, poor fellow! Alberta, what docs 7i say?" - . ' - A a. ;' v “ Well, I burned the letter; as perhaps you, saw, but I can tell you its contents. Bother-a. tionl Stupidity l” she breaks off, rising angrl ly to pace the rose-strewn carpet, and locking handsomer than ever as she dees so. “AW V onearth should I be tormented in this way!” Aubrey could tell the reason, but ' ' cl asked, “ What were the contents?” ' V g “ Why, would you believe any man‘ could be so credulous, so foolish, as to imagine that I meant all I said before he left England,--~sai you ‘know, just, in the pain of parting, and i the comforting belief that we two should nev 7 meet again? Thought I really meant-it all, and has toiled and waited (so he says ' ,1 really don’t believe the half of it), obeying myc'om mands about not writing, but thinking of at every moment of his life (more fool hell; buoyed up by my parting vows“, as. he has the audacity to call them, until an unexpected ' " ~ stroke of good fortune lifted him intoapoaition of competency, and he flew tOWard heme the wings of love, never dreaming that I care be found in any position save the exact one in which he had left me!” _. . , j “ Alberta, I‘ felt certain,‘ as you knqw,’that"" that friend of Mr. Lydell’s returning from'Aus- tralia would prove to be the same George Skipworth you have treated, 30 heartlesely. You laughed at my idea, but—‘-—” ' - ' I grant you. Australia seems full of evil for youand me; George has only just learned that which filled , all the papers 511: months agor—AJbeI'ta‘Attf-’ son’s brilliant marriage. HIS toiling and wait-‘5; ing has been carried on in a- remote region, it, 9 seems, ‘wbere‘ marriage announcements do, not ' penetrate; but I wish some kind ,friend had given him the benefit of the bad tidings earlier; ,. for the end of this letter, written under“: ' sudden shoc I can, make neither he ‘ 'r tail of. Soc 8; mixture of upb ‘ ' ploring and reminding. Oh, really, what a nuisance men are, after all!” And ' my lady, sinking exhausted, velvet chair, looked a martyr. ' L ’ I ,1. l' r H. 1" "(You certainly treated this one shamefully, with her indignation; g I haVe done, but your advice as to what I - , , should ’do now to calm this wronged individ- ' .ual. .r The partof this letter that gave me that .. turn' at breakfast was a. threat of coming down [hereafter Inc—whether for further upbraid~ ings', or with some dim idea. 'of an elopement, , he doesnot say, but is not the interview a . ‘pleasant prospect?” V ' “You deserve a. far worse punishment,” _ under her breath. " “ “ Perhaps to, ‘dear,”-—-stretching her little slipperecl foot to the blaze, and clasping her (hands in a graceful negligence behind her "of" husband but a jealous one, I should not grumble about the prospect of a little exciting novelty. I declare I should be rather pleased their otherwise to sce poor old George again if 1-}:1‘Weref not doubtful about Edgar’s welcome ' for him. By the way, did you notice how Edgar eyed that unfortunate Captain Fusell ,1 last evening, when he and I were singing that . duet? _I~hop'e your bushman won’t have jeal- 10usy among his other fascinations, Aubrey. "4‘ It is a. terrible quality for a husband to pos- . sees.” - " ““ Are you going to answer Mr. Skipworth’s letter?” ' »‘ ~"‘I shall write him a cool three lines, so ( ,, journey hither. ” - r- .3111; the.‘ threatened journey was taken in ‘Bpite of those Carefully worded three lines. ' ‘5 (cousin—only my lady and her cousin, which the'fo‘rmer declared afterward to be the most " marvelous piece of good luck-walking toward " corner where the station road diverged, r a man, striding in the direction of the Hall-— aeman “short, and thick-set, and bronzed, yet, withal, j as gentlemanly and good-looking as 'twolthirdsot the favored guests then scattered in the Perrimun preserves, and the reports of r whose guns ca'me sharply on the breeze to the ‘ 3 ladies as they stood to greet the stranger. U My lady was a shade paler than her wont, a ‘ shade haughtier; by no other sign did she evince film slightest discomposure. Aubrey was far more nervous, unable to kea single even Commonplace remark, and ’mbling as she stood before the wild, hag- v‘gerd desperation ‘of the man she intuitively felt had'slos‘t his all. ' “saidw‘skipu‘iorth, with a harsh, grating laugh, L “Yes,” she assented, sweetly, with the sun- lightqu on her calm face, but her eyes rest- » 1‘ My dear child, I don’t want to hear what ' “And if I were married to any’style 5 , ” ’worded as to stop, I fondly hope, his threatened ' Oha crisp, cold afternbon, my lady and her , ' the‘home'plantation, encountered suddenly, at - ,“ so we meet again, at lasv my lady I" . , p ‘ anywhere than on the glistening bloodshot, wickedly! ,\., Aubreysaid‘, a. great pity mingled ' ‘ ’ orbs confronting them. \ . I , “This is the pleasure I haVe solon'g pro- mised myself!" he went on, roughly. more look at the curse of my life—that is to say, one more gaze into your pretty face, my lady!” ' ' “I shall hear perfectly well, Mr. Skipworth, if you speak a little lower,” she returned, smil- , ing, but with a quick, apprehensive glance around. “What you can have to to me to necessitate this visit, of which, of course, I duly appreciate the honor,” with a mocking how, that shatters his false composure, “I am at a loss to imagine, but shall be glad to hear, if you will speak quickly,” glancing at her watch. “ We dine early, and—” “ Alberta!” he burst in, hoarsely. “(Do you remember our parting?” ‘ s “No, really,” with a pretty shrug; “ you ‘ cannot expect every one’s memory to be soper— ' feet as your own.” ' ' I “You lie!” and Aubrey shuddered at the : tempest in the face from which her cousin‘s gaze was so studiously averted. “You lie, , and you know it. As well as I do you recollect % that summer afternoon, when, under the oak , by the river, you twined your arms about me, and with tears in those eyes on whose truth I ' I would have staked my life, the eyes that dare hear, my ladyi—to be trueeven unto death-.— to be mine, mine alone!” ‘ ' ‘ “ What a touching reminiscence 1” And she languidly buttoned her glove. “ Touching!” with teeth set hard, and words hissed through them. fiend, to stand smiling there?” \ “ You are a pattern of politeness, at any rate,” she laughed; and Aubrey put an entreat. ing hand forward. “ Alberta, do not—in mercy, do not!” This repartee is very amusing,” she turned gracefully to him, “ but does not bring us V much nearer the real business of our interview. You have not surely taken this trouble and long journey merely to compare my memory with your own, or to pay me the compliment of even so grateful and gentlemanly an. insinu- ’| ation as your last?” “ Then I came to curse you!” he cried, un- steadily grasping a tree for support, as a drunk- en man might do. “ To curse the false beauty, the lying lips, the devil’s smiles, that have ruined me body and soul! And, if curses 'cling, as they say they do, then may mine—” “0h, hush, 'Mr. Skipworthl-hush, 1' im- plorei’ cried Aubrenyrantically, closing his lips, with her hand. “One I not now meet mine, swore~sworel do you . “Are you a woman or ' “Do not what, my dear? Not congratulate I Mr. Skipworth on his delicate choice of words? “ Alberta, how can you ‘ a V so taunt and madden him? You see his condi- I 4 ted whisper. , ' , but a former lover could have the right to do. tion. Say something kind, something coucilia— ' ting; just award, I entreat you!” in'an,agita.g Lady' Perriman considered. All the wild words she had been hearing Were but so many feathers on her well~regulated mind. A little ' excitement,” and the first words that ' come uppermost; she knew George Skipworth of old. Still, as it is an inconvenient time for this sort , , of thing, and an’inconvenient place—for those l ‘ . guns sound nearer and nearer, and there may i be Wisdom in Miss Attison’s suggestion—«she is not above accepting it. * “Talking in this wild way can do no good I now, Geo"rge,,?’ She, said, bending nearer, and usingthe low, sweet tones that. had haunted him like never-to-beforgotten. music through 1 those long and weary, yet hopeful years. “It is done now; and however on or I may re- pent it,'nothing can undo ch fact that I am another man’s wife. If you knew all, perhaps you Would not blame me quite so cruelly; but , I do not complain. I deserve your anger, and submit to it, as I must, do to the reproaches of my owu conscience.” ' v ‘ My lady, at her wit’s end to continue the speech so successfully begun, was saved trouble ' paroxyl m of almost childish sobs and anguish. r “1 lo Jed you so dearly, Alberta—so truly, so Wholly! I, do not grudge you the heart ‘ you have spurned and broken; but why did & You, not kill me outright when your love} changed? Why leave to me a life from which ' you had crushed out every hope?” Alberta’s quick ear caught the sound of other voicesapproaching; recognized one, as also the slow, stately factstep, and knew there were two 'pathslhe returning sportsmen might take, and that one would bring, in less than three ' minutes, Sir a Edgar upon the spot where a. stranger lay writhing upon the soft greens ward of his park, and \upbraiding his wife as none ‘-be better to go away, for it could Only ' 3 pain to see Alberta again, and—and—J’ I , steps down the station-road, great pitifulteaw by Sklpworthh fall to the ground in a sudden My lady is self—posSessed and prompt. ‘ / “ Aubrey, you will help me this once again?” ' (in a fervent whisper. “ Coax him to rise, and go away: You. can do it much better than I, who wg‘mldbe 1. lost ifEdgar should hear this (if man, and see me hear him.” Then, waiting no answer, the graceful figure . :53 glided among the trees, and was out of sight. , - It was a rather trying position for Miss ,2 Attisou: but, true her kindly, unselfish v nature, she accepted it, and faltered, in a vain A “ effort to imitate her cousin’s composure. : y “ It is all over now, Mr‘ Skipworth‘ V DO no” I u give way sci/utterly, I entreat. You are a -, man, remember; then bear this like one!” man}?! he laughed, horribly. ‘,‘ fluted dog.—-- a, one that, 0““ .Petmd’> and g is new spurned and kicked} aside! , tion frOm an old friend-e” , , you were inthis part of the country}? ~ up in town; I’m oft therejnows’l, '- a There. isllttle enough manhood left in me, I; assure youl’? _ W _ ‘ g fl There was silence again around the spot, for f ' Sir Edgar'and his friends had chosen the. right; path, after all; and there was ‘a long panes.- V; .bei’Ore Aubrey, with tears in her soft, sweet; .. eyes, murmured, impulsively, “I wish I could: do anything to help you. ' I cannot tell how Sorry, how ten/sorry I am!” r . fl, 'Skipworth made no rejoinder, and, as ther-~ minutes slipped by, the girl, in desperation, conquered her timidity sufficiently to urge, “Forgive me; I have no right to dictate, but» ,_ i is it w‘iseof you to stay here? Would it not “ And—and,” he mocked, fiercely, “ to take mysslf out of her way is the best service I render now to the woman who once vowed her , life into my keeping. Well,” rising and shak— , ing himself like the tortured animal he, said he 5 was, “ I will act upon your friendly hint, take myself out of your way—eout of kw. Way, —‘—out of—”» But the last muttered words Aa— ' breyiailed to catch. = ° ~ As she watched the man’s sWift, dimmed her sight; and perhaps it was memo: \ perhaps the fast-creeping evoning shades, that; prevented her noticing another figure'within a stone’s throw of where she was standing, ’ r z _~T' A tall, slight figure, in velveteen, shootings; coat, and leaning upon his‘ gun, with his paler than usual, and with a fixed, i , look turned in her direction. . I ' ' , , Aubrey carried home'through the‘ dusk her V aching remembrance of that other face’s 4, and the despairing words it would be long cm ,' she forgot; but their recital failed at all to ail, feet her ladyship. ‘ ' “ 5: “Well, dear,” she said, cheerfully, glancing; at her satin dinner dress spread out, on. couch, and touching the bell for her maidp—fé‘ “ well, there is one good thing in this afternobn, at any rate; which is, that semen» ture but ourselves knows anything about it. Nice talk, one-half of the tale would make in: this gossiping neighborhood! How the wretchi es would hug and chuckle over it!” ' p g As Skipworth Strode down the road, his “I steps mechanically hearing him towal‘d‘jlihe,” station he had so lately quitted, a hand ed his shoulder, and a voice said, “ George, fellow, I don’t Want'to intrude; but if you can; stand a. word or so of sympathy and consola- “I can’t,” replied the otherhastily, whe- ing aside as he quickened his steps" “, 11,}; I dell, is, it you?” as the familiar. face forced self upon his dazed senses. “Ihad‘forgottég stopmen'ow, theré’s a good anew; v Look ” » f‘Skipworth,”——l'iydell hesitated, wringing " . offered hand, with his honest, friendly ” " look straight into the other’s eyes—“forgive h, “ ’ ‘ ones, so long, you and I. Don’t take this mat- ' ter__so to heart—she isn’t worth it; and you’ll " it in that light yourself before long, old " man, and bless your lucky escape from such a "heartless, mercenary piece of selfishness. - 1 Meanwhile scorn her as she has scorned the honestman, too good for her.” “Fine talking!” groaned poor Skipworth, *--«‘3ympathy, “Easy for you, who don’t know 3 - yen. Wait till you have trusted and worship- ed‘ as I have done, and have met with my re- kisses and voWs throwvyou the stabs here have ’ Wt tofme to-dayl emerit, and then talk of taking matters to heart :1an seaming a perjured woman 1” ,; ' “ You were engaged to—to‘ Miss Attison?” gLydell forced the words from his lips, and fpretensions to mirth. “Engaged! Do vows and promises, with qso‘tgvtwining arms, and. eyes that wile your aWay, mean engagement? Ha, ha! Not " semi, Whatis love or honor to money nowa- daysi”, . ‘ r1 he checks the bitter wildness of his [manner suddenly. ‘ ' 3 “Forgive me, Lydelll greeting to the old chum I have not seen for :3“; but you see how it is. I’ve‘ just had a This is a queer in a day or two.” ' impulsively. “Woldtimes together?” - I7 “No, no?! uttered in a way there was no against. “I am no company for “Let us have a chat over mad!" V 4' ‘ “Then, with one more silent hand-gripe, the .. two friends part—401' the last time on earth. happy one for Lady Pe riman, although she and smiled, and ;~ very suspicious eye allowed—as uninterrupted- , .x : ly and beWitchingly‘as usual. ' For Aubrey it was a very disappointing and i " distressing evening. - V ‘ , 5 v For the first time since Max Lydell’s arrival ' the Hall, the chair beside her white dress j her- crewels was filled by Major Macarthyg iii-bliss; and the girl, in her quick parrying of qomplimeiits and brilligfincyeven greater than. "Mail?" ' ,/ ,7,M - ' ‘ maestro Mme; , r ~. v-my impertinence; we havebeen friends, and fast v , what'it is for one woman to be all the world to ‘_ f ward! Wait till the lips that have given you I fearful glance across to ‘,I.shudder’ed_as they awoke laughter that had no ‘ Possibly that evening was not a particularly I might?” usual, was not for one moment unawarefof , Lydell’s sudden attraction toward another chair—the chair osa girl only‘one degree lees pretty than Aubrey herself, and who evinced no distaste for attentions she had long secretly coveted. ’ Amid the Irishman’s volubility, Aubrey heard every word that other deep, languid ,_ voice exerted itself to utter to that other girl. To Aubrey, whOSe oflfer of friendship it ac- cepted so enthusiastically yesterday, it said to stay with that old friend of mine you heard me say, I was expecting from Australia-— George Skipworth; Do you remember?" / Aubrey faltered something as she flashed a her cousin; but my lady, from. amid her circle of satellites, be- _ Wait till the light and : trayed not by one eyelid’s flutter 1whether or ; ; hope 01 your life dies out suddenly, in a mo- no she had heard. ' E In confidential dressing-room chat, a little‘ later, more than one young lady remarked to ; an intimate friend that “ Mr. Lydell’s attention ‘ to Aubrey Attison seems cooling 03, my dear, most unmistakably!” J ' Nevertheless, in three days Mr. Lydell' was back from London. and the first person" he alone in the drawing-room. “Just in time for tea, Mn, Lydelli” she smiled. "‘ Sir Edgar has taken the other ladies for a nine-miles’ ride down those sloughs'of lanes, but Alberta and I expect them back exhausted any moment now.” ' , Then her ladyship glided in. . r “Ah, Mr. Lydelll I tho’ught you could never knockdown, and cannot pick myself up yet. ,have the heart to stay away from these birds ~ me to myself now, and look me up [in ‘so long as you wished us to believe i” x I, V . “It is not the sport here that has made“ ,‘flMay I run up with you to-nighti” Max gLondon hateful tome,” he rejoined, gravely; , the while his steady gaze rested upon Aubrey, and he thought he knew the reason her colorl was varying from crimson to white. , t “I hardly dare ask what it may be after ' one-just now; for I tell you I am nearly the tragedy of that tone!” my lady declared, .lightly. . V . ~ “It is‘I-tnot' exactly a tale with which to entertain a lady; but I should like to tell ‘ it if “ Oh, certainly! “I told Miss Attison my trip to town was to meet an old college—chum-a-George Skipworth. He went to Australia a year ‘or two, ago' to . make a fortune, as so many fancy it an, easy, matter there; and he wanted it for the old reason—to share with another. above love in a cottagekssr ~ My lady laughed, as she stooped to‘ caress the'lcat. f - -‘ l' « , ‘ Only these words through the length of the ~ ' "whose self-command vanished at touch of 3 evening—“I am going up togtown to-m‘orrcw , greeted was Miss Attison, whom he found ’ "zajbit'of itl—when a richer man presents him- ‘ We will brace our nerves ‘ ed and flirted—the 1 heroically—won’t we, Aubrey?” latter to as great an extent as Sir Edgar’s E . He was en- \ gaged to some young lady, whomad a mind- I ' (fall to One in, twenty‘out there, he did pick up, , sake alone?” ‘ ' then added, bitterly, hoarsely, “I saw him gmy lady shrunk at that ringing sternness— " ward to catch her, as she sunk, half-fainting, ' I from her chair. tale, Aubrey, such, as you may read in the ' ~ ever. ‘ others had taken their places. a - and apparently resigned herself to her cousin’s ,V. . . 1- 15 "nannro'MAnmi. - J “ By a rare stroke of, luck, such as does not not‘ a fortune, but enough to justify ‘him in re- turning to the girl who had sent him out with the promise to wait fer him; and can you guess how she welcomed him—how she repaid the exile and toil to which he had devoted himself at her command, endured unflinchineg for her He paused, c0vering his face with his hand; yesterday lying dead before me, shot through the heart by his own hand; and a few lines by his side, to tell, the cause of that self-murder—-— to tell the poor old father, whose only child he was, how a false woman’s cruelty ”——and even “had driven his ,son mad; ruined him body and soul, as he put it; but to, her name he left no claw—loyal, even in death, to the creature who had slain him as surely as if her finger had pulled that fatal trigger.” , My lady turned aside, affected. Aubrey made the first sound she had uttered since Ly- dell began to speak. It was more or a wall than a cry, and the young man started for- .9 My smelling-,bottle—thanksl—and a little cold Water. .She will be well again presently. She is subject to fainting, and‘ you did tell it very suddenly, you know—such a terrible thing!” my lady reproached him. “ There, are you better'now, dear? It was only a horrible newspapers any day, if you look.” ' Then, as consciousness came back to Aubrey, and she. ‘ opened her lips to speak, with a sign and alwhisper, her cousin banished Max Ly- de‘ll from the room. 7 CHAPTER 'V.‘ 4 A P a: o T 0 G R a P H Pnnnmsu HALL was as full and as gay as Some of the former guests had left, but " Max Lydell had insisted upon taking up his abode in his own house, unfinished - hough it was; and Major Macarthy, with is hopes blighted (by Aubrey’s firm though kindly an- swer to the question he had dared at last to put, had returned to his regiment, and was al- ready forgetting the wound he had declared to be incurable. I g ‘ {Captain Fusell had gone to Paris; but Miss Attison, with one or two more .01 the first comers, was still at the Hall. I Lady Perriman was moreJively, more be- witchiug than ever, though she had given up her, plots for Aullrey’s matrimonial welfare, V containing the comforting assurance that helix.” in his sleeve as he pretended to accept them, ' it have been for her if she had heard no determination torcarry out her tather’sQwflh - f "_ 4’ we? Miss Attison had received another letterme i, . that ardent lover across the water—earl" epistle ~ abounding in sentiment and professions, and would be by her side early in the new years-:- an,epist1e that jarred on the delicate: sensitived no that tried so hard to ignore the vulgarity; and want of gentlemanly feeling shewn in each I ‘* line of that letter. . - t... '- 7”. Poor Aubreyl Life was not very bright to- hor just then. The future looked darker than the present, and the preSent had few sunbeams and many shadows. ' I \ ,, _ ' The cousin whom she had , loved as a: sister had proved herself heartless and cruel, while: the man whom she had believed a steadfasli, model of honor and integrity had shown self mean and false: .‘ * j ' » Aubrey’s ofler of‘ friendship, and. Max In? dell’s grateful acceptance of it, had ended in a; coldness on his side so marked as to be noti d by every one; and mean, indeed, did impel, to her of the man'who had spared nov’eflo‘rt V t ‘ ' overcome her aversion and compel her Vito. 'lik him, that he should, the moment he fancied‘his. and achieved, turn the tables upon herself, and wound her with the very weaponspf which .3119 had disarmed her. ‘ V - 'v ’ 7 How bitterly she repented that conversa» in the Bolton lanes only she could . _ have” been cajoled into owning herselt deteated, and offering overtures to the foe. who laughed and who, immediately her humiliation is gains ed, throws 01! his mask and shows how he scorns her weakness, was a hard remembrance. Perriman Hall’ has grown hateful» to he fer, go where she will, she meets tbehandsome young bachelor whom halt the girls in it neighborhood are anxious to ‘encounteri, knows that as he spoke of her to his friend the Albert Hall, so does he think OthQT‘DOWL ., She hated him then. How much better words from his lips than those she so? long sentedl 3 ’ a - Miss Attison had no true,.,home to “retire to, -—the nearest approach to a. home since-her father’s death was Perriman Hall; but "as. place and its associations had become [unbear- able, she had accepted an invitation to Brighton for Christmas, and after a month spent thi " would go north to.pay a long-promised Laura Rogers,- an old schoolmate; 1 . -“I know how- you love riding,” "said Rogers, a few mornings after Aubrey’s arri “ The horses shall be round at eleven, and. W59 will haVe such a scamper-togetherl” ': , ' ' They did have a scamper, over moors: n31 commens and through many lanes: and pacing slowly up-hill to give the horses, .to breathe, passed a-lsmall house, so, built and so ‘ picturesquer surrounded," ' V' (assesses "m 1.; 3,3,3" “Y,‘:'_’ a: ._ A: glittlee‘pOt, Laura?” . ‘ .‘lef';,blll one ‘of the curiosities of the neighbor- .hpodg” such an odd, gliomy, unsociable old .‘mhnl ‘I’ll take you to visit him some day, if you like oddities. ,‘too, fer the shock that made him so queer was the sudden death of his only son, whom he near-Ly worshiped. He had been abroad, yyouug George SkipWorth, and died in some '- ‘dreadlul- manner—I’m not sure that he'was {not murdered. I know this old man is always vv0wing vengeance upon the somebody who ' [caused his d+ ath. * There he is at the window! he’has got! ‘Do you think he is in a fit?” 1 It nearlychilled Aubrey’s blood that face at the glass, more especially as the sunken, glar- ii'ng eyes, with, as Laura said, their awful ex- pression, seemed to pass over Miss Rogers to ‘viieat'onvh‘erself alone. ' » ‘j .g‘.‘1‘here is insanity in his family, I know,” Whispered Laura, asinvoluntarily she touched her'horsa’s side with her whip; .“ and I should ot‘w‘onden if brooding over his trouble is not standing old Skipworth mad..- I am sure I shall be afraid to go near him now.” posture, and gaze, then he went slowly across a cabinet that was locked, and from its {secret drawer took a. locket that had evidently managed to a. gentleman’s watch~chain. ' j-Slowly he opened it, and gazed at the tress of auburn ‘ hair and photograph it surrounded. , sec-pictured‘face, lovely in its perfect outline, With'leatures «and eyes that any glance might vdid net’kn’ow by heart the sweet, candid ex- , ression alone wanting would so take. And Said fSkipworth, lonely, imbittered, and half crazed; muttered, as he reclosed the spring and r-‘jrepl‘aeed the trinket, “ I should know that lace ,Thelrt'wo girls were very near home, . when Miss Rogers began to fldget, and color, and an- tiwar her companion in the most astoundineg irrelevant manner, as swift-trotting boots were gainingiufon them. i ' 5, 5“ Mr. Edwa esl” then Laura whispered, all Iin‘a flutter; “and, I expect, Mr. Lydell. Yes. at me introduce you to my friend, Miss Atti- ~ Sheturned‘to the two gentlemen reining in ' side, and then, either from Miss Rogers’s :Jfl'ta%n,or Mr; \Edwa’rdes’s maneuvers, or ,afact that in absence of mind one is todo the exact thing one wishes to avoid, Aubrey found herself by Max Lydell’s side, (mlng down the narrow lane that would only fight tWo abreast, and ,she thought, “ Is “Is thisyour first'visit totthis county, Miss we r ‘» .’ .. 3/” ‘;‘~”Agbréy7asked,_“ Who lives in that romantic " But I pitycold Skipworth, _ lLook,. Aubrey! Why, what an awful expression ‘ "Not till long after the fair girls had swept 5 utly‘otr-sight' did that old‘man move from his v-taEe for Aubrey’s own—that every glance that ‘V ,_ainoug~a hundred, and Ihave seen it at lastl” . H .4. «A‘s—“MW « Attison?” MrlLydell began, interestingly, and, with no symptom of embarrassment inihis' easy ' manner—the exact manner Aubrey“ flattered , herself she had forgotten, and knew now, in this startled moment, she could never forget. “My very first. I have been coming to stay with Laura ever since we left school, and never actually arrived here until last week. It is very surprising, though, to meet you in this neighborhood!” ' v , , “ I have the same right hereas yourself,” he laughed; “that of a. visitor. haVe been staying ,with Edw‘ardes for a week now—no, ten days. Iknow you like exactness.” ‘ “ 0n so important a matter, yes.” I, “AM you have not forgotten how to be sar- castic. I have been fearful, once or twice during our separation. , that, deprived of the constant practice I aflorded you, you might insensibly lose some or your talent in that line.” ' - ' " ‘ “How relieved you must be to find such an awful fear groundless; though, had it been re- alized, I dare say I could soon have regained lost skill under so consummate a master of the art as yourself.” “You flatter me!” he said, quietly. “ Do you intend to stay long here? Do your friends live very near the R igers’sl” “ Within a mile; and as to the length of my visit, my own place is so uncomfortable just now, that I am glad to burden my friends.” t Then, as Mr. Rogers’s gate was reached, the equestrians in front caused a stoppage. ‘ Laura, still with a becoming color and fair teresting secrets about Mr. Edwardes during the privacy of a. luncheon toilet; then .went on in a‘ more collected way to announce-“ Mr. Lydell would be the exact match for you, Au- r, brey. He has often stayed at the Edwardes‘s house before, and I have always had that idea. in my mind. You seem a couple just made for each other.” ~ ' “ Is it fate,” again wondered p'oor Aubrey, “that re-issues Alberta’s words from Laura’s : lips in this weary way? How Can-people be so - 1 blind as to make such egregious mistakes?” Laura knew nothing as yet of Mr. Grey, or ; Aubrey’s engagement; and Aubrey hardly felt a 5‘ equal to making the confidence just then, espe¥ : cially as it could only be a half-confidence; l for how could she, by telling her real reason for ' givingthat promise, betray, her dead. father’s misdeeds? Besides, it would be to revive all the endless unsatisfactory arguments she had suf- fered at Alberta’s bands, and which“ would be 1 * certain to repeat themselves at Laura’s. “It would be time enough when Philip Grey appeared in England for the fact of her engagement to announce itself,” she decided; and, in the tumult of such decision, answercd‘ amount of confusion, told her friend most in- . Miss Rogers, sharply: oYou are very kind, 4v ~ ‘ \ .. «A himjfihrfilfit; an." 5.. -m; : ' ‘r'n' as yr» , Miss Attison,” he said, in a strange though per- \ " doors, easy, indifferent, gentlemanly. , that undercurrent v " "Pennant mam; '- ‘ ‘ ' its" into your head, this ' is the climax.” ,. / “ I don‘t see that at all i” eagerly. “ You will ' be'thrown=together capitally here. Mr. Ed- wardes is such a great friend of—of papa’s, is running in and out here constantly; and, of course, Mr. Lydell, too, comes a great deal; .. and you know peOple say—and I believe it— only ‘opportunities are wanted for that kind of thing.” “, No inclinafiOni” questioned the other, dry- ly. “Well, Mr. L) dell’s and -'my Opportuni- ' Laura, but Of all the unlikely things that have ever enter ties are things of the past, for I have known , him intimately for some months now. lives close to my cousin’s.” ‘ ' Nothing disconcerted Laura. _ “ So much the better. You have got a start.” He I fectly' entlelnanly manner; “ as I should thata-I ‘ ., of any riend of my poor boy’s—and you wore I - that, were you not? - . H I ‘ “I knew Mr.- George Skipworth, though but slightly,” laltered Aubrey. » _A _ “Slightly-—ahl exactly. V Before he went abroad, perhaps. But you saw him on turn, surely?” I .~ .- . “Once, for a few moments only,” she oWn’ed, f; i uneasy under those curiously fixed glittering _ eyes, and wondering howymuch this questioner \ f , knew or guessed of her cousin’s share in, the; . cruel. bereavement of his old age. V y ,. “He was my only son, Miss ' Attison—a son. " who never caused me one painful thought or one uneasy moment until-—- Perhaps-you don’t ., know the particulars of his death?” he. broke off _ _ abruptly to question with that strange gaze; “Yesrwe have,” says Miss Attison; “ a start growing wilder, of mutual dislike.” ._ The opportunities came, surely enough. Mr. Lydell and Mr. Edwardes were invited to din- ner; Mr. Edwardes and his friend dropped in to luncheon; meetings on horseback multiplied themselves; there were social gatherings at houses in the neighborhood; now, and thena dinner party; occasiOnally a dance; and at dinner, if fate decreed Max Lydell’s seat,be- side Aubrey, their conversation might have edifled the room generally. At luncheon he “Yes, lheard them "—with a shudder. ' I Then he turned abruptly away, muttering to ; y " himself, leaving the young ladies there without" .' was civility personified and coldness; out of 4 In a friendly drawing-room his attentions belonged to the plainest girl or the most elder- W desolate, bitter old man—~very pitifully of the ' 7 1y dowager, rather than to the belle, Miss At- ; tison; and at a dance he averted remark by asking her hand for one set of “ Lancersg” and there were plenty of other good dan0ers pres- ent only too anxious to valse with so perfect a step as Aubrey’s. She did not flirt with others before his eyes, as a less scrupulous girl might have done. She was not the woman to run the risk of wound- =' the high road, the other the narrow/ lane passe ing one set of feelings for the chance 0! touch- , 'ing another. ,, joyed herself, while all the time there ran through her merriest thoughts—e“ Is it fate that, in the very effort I made to avoid him, has thrown this man across my path again?” _ “This is old Skipworth we are about to , meet,” Miss Rogers'announced, in a trepidation she was somewhat ashamed of, as she and Au- brey were walking home from the village of Ling. ~‘f I hope he won’t want to stop and _ ‘ speak.” Vain hope. The old man bowed, shook hands, and, after a f. w old-fashioned Compliments to Laura, begged for an introduction to her friend. ,' . - ‘ , “Yours is an acquaintance I make gladly, i , . . matel towered hi h above.the lane itself“ and . She talked and laughed, and apparently en- ' y g ‘ ’ ' bow or good—by; and Laura protested that'he; must be going crazy, and wondered, Aubrey had never mentioned her acquaintanceship with K George Skipwor-th before, asking many quesJ tions about it now, and about the particulars ' of the death whose very remembrance so af?’ fected his father; and Aubrey parrin those questions as best she might. ‘ é .. Miss Attison thought very pitifully of that loneliness and suffering one so, near .to herself had cauSed. ' ‘ 7 l “ l wbuld give anything to be able to com? fort him," she pondered, standing in theea‘rl‘yt, gloaming of a windy afternoon at the, corner, 1‘ who 9 two ways led from the village to Fair-g view, the Roger-5’s house-one the longer and ingold Skipworth's cottage and garden. ,7 7 That garden was as remarkable as the .‘ ing itself. It ran along a steeply ascending bank, which,” beginning on the level with, inltiéi‘ instead of having any hedge, was bordered b a curious wall of loose, rugged stones,,Whichj the owner asserted were as safely put together“ as the walls of his house, but which skeptical} passers by were wont to declare looked ready, with the merest suggestion of a shake, to de- scend on unlucky heads below. ,. r x “If I thought I could comfort him ever so little, or if I were sure my visit would not be; deemed an intrusion, I would go and see this afternoon,” Aubrey continued, still, stand ing with the basket she had taken out laden to; poor woman in the village, empty in her hand“; “But, he might resent my sympathy—might resent myself, indeed. as sovnear a relative of: hers; and, ‘if he did, I'- should do harm ratb‘ than good, andOpen the wounds 1, wouldgig' ' anything-lor'power to heal. , He said he was glad. to make my acquaint- .a anceybutyas he'said it, his look curdled my‘ vesyryblood. he mad, I wonder! Dare, I go?” i a v . I, . \ y. ,A slightsound behind her caused her to turn , sharply. and see some one regarding her-some— tonewho, after a Vault over the gate from the ' neighboring copse, had paused to observe how , ‘gbeceming was hesitation to Miss Attison. is; ‘With the wind blowing loose her auburn V~‘:hatr, and making fine frolic among the long V Utur‘abordering V her jacket; with the brighter " .31, tint‘given by exercise and air to her cheeks, her sweet eyes thoughtful and soft in their _ perplexed _ pity, Aubrey was a. prettier ‘ picture than‘she believed, as she turned to ex- and shmild."never dream of being afraid, ‘I as, sure you "~more hotly. “I ‘wonld' much ' rather go home by myself—infinitely rather,” '.c1ai,m,w1th a smile, “How you startled me, \ Lydelll Where have you sprung from?” 1 ? ‘f‘From doing a little farming for Edwardes, whojwas otherwise engaged,” he smiled, in re- ply, ‘“"And where are you going, may I ask, fisher such lengthy deliberationi”, old Mr. Skipworth a visit.” Was-startled. “Why, on earth were yougoing to do that?” She colored a little. ' v 'I‘idon’t’ know. ‘ I dare say I could do him 110 Wing‘é‘there? day after day, with no creature to x , peaif,,to—'-no one to divert his thoughts from v“ mending ’over his trouble. ” ' ‘I‘Thatidea'has just struck yen?” 4 the satire of the tone was so nearly 2 to rudeness, that she turned haughtin fhwaiyV‘lth a bow. ' ,. I iiifieovertobkher in one stride. . a"; I have" no right to offer advice, and don’t it will be taken; nevertheless, I do presume,” much (or your sake as for the ia- against this'rash idea of yours.” 9‘qu go to See him occasionally, do you not??? ' ' what is hardly a case in point.” : '01 (the glance he gives her ere replying. "f f“! amfa‘ mam—you a lady; besides which, I ' Shave- kuown him ‘since. 1 Was a. boy, and "i— , withwyafsudden repression in the tone—“I was v 'TG‘eorge’s: friend”. ' ‘ :‘li-éW 611;” think; must postpone it till to-morrow: that y < _, shill.- »All this argument has made it too late . {orally Visit to-day.” (Much, too‘late for you 1 , be alone in these 7 as,” he agreed, calmly turning by her side. ,hifihewasvexed beyond measure. ' » ‘ “ ,1 .‘j I am often outmth later than this. that; requires either such thoughtful prepara- uttered the. light words. ’but it seems so sad for, him to be liv- . settled last evening. “Then Iwill leave you at the end of this road. Is the news correct I heard to—‘dayl” he went on, pleasantly ignoring the extra erect- ness of the well carried little head he glanced down upon. , ' , “ Most likely not. News seldom is.” I “Still, I am tempted to credit this from personal observation. Miss Bogers‘s engage- ' ment toEdwardesl” A v, . . ' ' “Oh, that is correct enough—yes. ,It‘ was Dear Laura, 1' am’ so glad—unselfishly 'so, considering my lonely plight this afternoon, don’t you think?” ' ‘ She laughed, and was her sunny self again. “No doubt Miss Rogers will act as consider-' ately by you some day. When will that happy some day be?” And hisquiet eyes were on her} face as he “Perhaps it has already been. - Perhaps it is y. ‘f‘lt takes both,” she agreed, with a little » now.”' ' sigh. "fI was trying to summon courage to . :to his, even in the fading light, she saw the With her glance clear and upraised straight " flash that’ went over his face—saw it fade even- as it had come, and leave him paler, perhaps, but that was dificult to determine in uncertain . dusk—and with his quiet, cynical voice giving, - ‘ the lie utterly to whatever sudden loss of con: trol was responsible for that fleeting expres-- sion. _ .. . Was it surprise, that flash? consternation? ' jealousy? pain? It m'ght be eithere—it might l pom-sold man’speace of mind, to protest} be none of these. Far less likely either. than none, the girl thought ,bitterly aslhe asked, “Am I to understand,,then, that I may offer you also congratulations?” “I am engaged. I have been for a, long ' time,” she answered, simply. “ would you like—would you care to hear all about it?” He bent his head, and she heard him draw a. ’ long breath hard. ‘Then she nerved herself for ‘fiircannot‘see that there is much difference.” ‘ Sharia notwlooking at him, so is unconscious : the effort, and told the whole story she knew it would have been so much better to have told ' long ago, and he listened without comment or flagging attention to the end. They had passed, without noticing it, Mr. ' Skipworth’s cottage, and were walking under ‘ he shadow of his garden, bank. Aubrey’s voice was too low forany listener to catch her words, and old Skipworth’s ears were dull; but E watching from behind that sheltering wall, he , she said, in assumed indifference, ‘ {‘1 beg you will not-come so far out 01 your,._ 'saw with the keen sight age had failed to dim, what Aubrey was unconscious of—the earnest- , ' ness of the steadfast gaze, bent'upon her, the breathless absorption in which her companion drank in her every syllable. ' ~ , “ Witching him with her cursed wiles, now’ she is!” he muttered beneath his breath; “and” "making merry over his death next sheewiil'bel,’ He'Was my boy’s friend-the only; “an be; .. ‘ ‘ing whose face I this caredto see, since-5 since~ Vile sorceress~murderessl” * I ' He broke off, his lips working, his hands clenched'in rising frenzy. ' V “Shall another noble life be sacrificed to your deviltry, when One effort of this feeble old arm can save him? One effortl” he'mut- 'tered, and crept on with a rapidity one would scarcely expect to the highest point of the' bank—the ‘ furthest limit of his wall, behind which he waited for those figures sauntering r \ beneath. “One effort, and your cursed enchantment is at an end. No more lives at your d00rl It is the kindest thing I can do for you, madam. 1 One effort!" Nearer, through the'twilight, came the‘ fig- " urea—firmer Skipworth grasped the rugged hrey glanced up, was deadly white. Stone "his tottering arms could scarcely wield. Inch by inch be raised it, crouching behind its companions. Then Aubrey felt. herself whirl- ed round suddenly in Lydell’s arms, and her scream, as the missile came crashing down, was music to the old man’s ears above. Until a few hasty steps had put them com- " plately out of danger, Aubrey, pale and trem- bling, was as silent as her companion, then she whispered, thankfully, “What a merciful es- cape] Did you ace that stone falling?” “I heard it, I think, as it began to roll. Excuse my handling you so roughly. There was no time for speec ," * His voice sounded faint—his face, as Au- He un- consciously grasped her arm, in an attempt to stead himself, then reeled and fell, and the girl, eeling by. his side, with the stunned pain at her heart whispered, “Can this be death?” made no outcry, tut rapidly felt in the pocket of his shooting-coat and found, as she had hoped, asmall flask, and poured some of its contents betWeen his lips. . “ You are hurt, I fear?” she said, as the dark grayeyes met hers again. “This is very weak of me,” he returned, in a man’s Scorn of physical helplessness. “It is only my arm—broken, I fancy. I shall be all right after a little more brandy.” ' ‘ - He ,swallotved 'the little more brandy, and rose to pursue his.way, with Aubrey’s anxious eyes on his White lips, and their repression of Pam- . ‘ "‘ You are suflfering. Jearfully, I know,” she remarked, in a OQMtrained kind of way. “I don‘t think you Will be able to walk home. If .éyop would turn back intoMr. Skipworth’s, I ' _. the’brahdyholds out." could run to your Place, and order a earrings," in less than twenty minutes.” . “Not for worlds!” he replied, stimy' I “I I ' shouldnever dream of Putting ytgu to such out- ' "81193819115 as rageo'us trouble. I shallhe all » ., r f madnromssr ; . that boundrhervto the wretched contract? :3") " ,_ noted the hardening expression the - ~Wrémxousme . «we stone caught you instead ofime.” . , , '9‘ Only my arm.” g . I. “ I wish it had been mine!” _ a ’ . J. I And the wild crimson surging at the impale, ' sive utterance of those unguarded Words ,flpbd-T- ed hotter and hotter at the sudden pessimist, his rejOinder. ' " ’ " “ Yourst this pain!” ‘ , , , ,- .. t Then be checked himself abruptly, andhis next remark, about the‘damages he, Would” claim from old Skipworth, and his imsafe style“ of building, was made laughineg in hisusiial style. , ' “ Go on, please,_Miss Attison, with the-hair rative this little episode interruptedfi’heooué" a. tinned, after a pause. “ I was getting deeply; interested. When do you say this lucky man l—is coming over to claim you!” “He is on his way now,” gaiutly. , - “How anxiously you must anticipate his; arrival! But of course you have made acquaintance to some extent already Ely-let‘s n ~ , I _. And Aubrey’s thoughts went miserably to those three letters, and their coarSe, . ful style. . “ ' I ‘ “The temptation has never once crossed you to disobey :your father’s. commands, [I sap-7 pose?” . , ‘ W h ,v _ . “ It was not papa’s commands; it was own promise,” she said, simply. .And, he ' as, silent, thinking, was she false, this girl clear, unfaltering eyes, and brave, sweet voice? Was it filial obedience and henor thathsld her to that detestable engagement with email had never seen, and of whom his quick perce' tion'told him she hadformed, as yet,~'no.,faycr¢; able impression, or was it love foruthengld'she must sacrifice if she failed to sadness herséu, I would not have you The latter, he fancied; and Aubrey’s brought. ., r ,, . “ You are in terrible pain, I know.” , .. But it was too dark for him to picidus moisture of theblue eyes. . LI i ., “If you would oniy let me run 126 tor’s or somewhere !” t ' _. ,- 1 3,. “ And leave me in the lurch? Listem "it, I hear wheels this way at last?” - . , r I A gamekeeper’s cart it proved to be, Lydell consented to accept its aid, on condition“ that they drove round by Fairview, 81118911935; ited Miss Attison .safely at home hetero. ceediug' to the nearestsurgeon’s. ' ' r . ?; As they neared Fanrview, and Lydell ate‘d his thanks for Aubrey’s kindly attentiq, and consideration, she took her courage infbpt hands and {altered “Don’t thinkqme so? 319* grateful-as I seem, please. ;. It, I y ,- whatgeu hays \ r ,1 .. ,4 v. a,» ( .« S V, r firmness To‘mm; _ I T ‘. L g. , _ for me,’_I.amr none the less conscious that you | saved my lite at risk of your own.” 7 \ “ Nothing of the sort!” he proceeded at once ‘ tosnub her. “ I am very glad I chanced to be' quick enough, but ’I assure you’ I did nothing ' more than Would. have. been my duty to do; nothing more than I should have been happy to do for any fellow—creature.” - - And in the face of that general philanthropy, Aubrey descended atMrs. Rogers’s gate. f ‘ 5 2 " " CHAPIER VI. v ’ _ smwoarn’s REVENGE. '. ‘ firm:th came to Miss Attison the excuse to V_ shorten her visit at Fairview, of which she had been earnestly desirous since her first ride out .' with Miss Rogers. , ' ' It, came in a letter from Lady Perriman, de— 2 claring‘her ladynhip so ill as to require her " ‘ acousin’s immediate return, and. Aubrey made . her excuses to her friends, with the consolatory 1. promise to return and finish her visit before I “ summer arrived. ' ' ' 2' “ When Max Lydell is at his own place I will come back'here,” Was the thought prompt- v lug such promise. I r ‘ ' ,Miss‘B.‘ogers herself drove her friend to the ’ station, and on the way they encountered Mr. 1 Lydon, with his arm in a sling. It was the l _‘ » first time Aubrey had seen him since the after- 1 V, noon of the accident. I , ;;,E“N,0W, part friends, you two,” pleaded Laura. ,“ Don't be rude the very day you are “g'_ing toleave him, and the poor fellow look- lug sopaleg’t ' , i '- “,We have not time to stop, Laura. We‘ shall. lese the train, I’m sure. Laura, if you ’ clove; me,?’ in .exCited intensity, as the other I turned to wonder and argue, “drive straight :past, I' implore l” | f H .‘gOverpowered by Aubrey’s earnestness, and ; hestronghand she stretched toward the reins, a is: Rogers kept the pony at its fast trot, and , Mr; - Lydell and the ladies exchanged but a ._ "but that morning, after a swift glance at her ; .compa‘nion’s face, she forbore raillery or ,ques- ‘ Wen concerning Aubrey ’s peculiar conduct. “Ken will have a friend in the train,” she , _ announced, standing at the door of Aubrey’s 3 ' . carriage», while the engine puffed and waited;— f‘ncless a persbn than old Mr. Skipworth. I I ,figier’knew he traveled before. Would you ‘ ‘ two carriages behind. I can bring him in one moment, if you like, and you can, scold him about'thatldangerous wall of hia'ijwhich I al- ::'ways knew would tumble dow‘gginpon some- ; body, sooner onl'ater.” l dubrey smiled and shook head as the '«traiumovedoa, ,. 4 ‘ , ‘ l " 2“ Laura was not, as a rule, renowned for tact; , ‘ ‘in here?”—~mischievo;sly. ‘ He is only , It was a tedious journey, and Miss Attison ‘ forgot all about the occupant of the. carriage ' behind long before she had reached Perriman; therefbre was her, surprise great to behold in the only passenger besides herself alighting on that insignificant platform none [other than Mr. Skipworth, and somehow the sight caused her uneasiness as whll as surprise. Why should he be there? What could his 3 errand be? Was be following herself?——(With an uncomfortable creepy—or had become to see Albertal—and, if so, for what? ' “How pale you look, Aubrey!” cried my I , lady’s laughing voice. “I think my invalidism must have devolved upon you. “You here to meet me!” responded Aubrey, L amazed. ”‘ ill?” , , “So I was—for one day. Quite long enough “Why, I thought your were very _ for an excuse to get you back again, you see. “The Hall was empty, and I can’t stand a- matri- monial tete-a-tete for long, as you know. , Jump in, dear; these little animals won’t stand a minute. Oh, bother it! I’ve dropped my letter. James l”-—she turned to her servant. ’ ‘ But a courteous old gentleman emerging through the station swing-door had picked up the crested envelope, and approached, with his keen eyes scanning its address. ' ‘ “I am going into the village. this into the post for you?” he said, raising his 1 hat, and addressing Aubrey; thenvhe caught sight of her ladyship, and stood as if trans- formed to stone. ' ' - ‘ If the miniature tiger had lost one atom of ' his control over those fldgety little greys, either her ladyship or the stranger mustrinevi- tany have been upset. “ Is he mad?” whispered Alberta, testily. But Mr. Skipworth recovered himself. “Excuse the apparent curiosity o: the in- quiry, Miss Attison; but is this handwriting yours or your sister’s?” he asked, abruptly, in- dicating that on the letter in his handf'while 'those restless eyes Of his were roving from one beautiful face to the other. “Neither,” smiled my lady, amused. “It is mine.” “ You are not, then, this lady’s sister! But the likeness is so dered!” ‘ . He turned quickly to Alberta. “Your name, surely, must be Attisonl" \ “Lady Perriman, at: your servicW Al- berta Attison,” she laughed, the whim taking her to find amusement in that old man, and unheedl’ul of her cousin’s pressure of her arm, and whisper, “Don’t talk to him, Alberta! Oh, do drive on!” . ’ “I am most grateful for the “Alberta! A charming name—a. most May I put . extraordinary, I am bewil—V information . : you have given me,” old Skipworth said, with t r a how so low that his eyes were hiddzgij. 1/? . ' 7 ’7 i statements“. . I ‘ markable name! I was/gratified to make your * companion’s acquaintance a few days ago';' I ' old man you talked to in that way was. poor .> ‘ name,” sighed Aubrey. I won’t transfer his affections from you to me . yours! ..7 , .,\\ _ r, . _ ‘g g “3. ~ ‘wat is thief hear about Mag-Lydian: ‘ne, has .been saving your, life, or you havebeen endangering his.” ,, Aubrey described the incident in the most, l natural tone in the world, and her ladyshlpav had only time to remark that old Skipworth' seemed an undesirable sort of. neighbor, . she trusted he had not come down to Perri- ‘ man to introduce his peculiar system of wall 5 building, ere they dashed up the Hall’s ap- proach. ' y 1 ' t . ' Some days passed on, and Aubrey was thinks . ing neither of old Skipworth nor her cousin, as“, she walked slowly, and alone, down the road: skirting the home plantation, and leading alike ,. from the village and station. r ‘i , She had been visiting some 'of her village" I _, . pensioners, an errand on Which my lady into; _ - " been PICkmg “I? in the WWII, Allbl‘ey,” Bald riably declined to. accompany her, and was] my lady, langmd1Y- “It has the Charm 0f , rather later than she had intended to be in...‘ ' peculiarity, at any rate.” _ . ; returning ' _ y , r “Albertat'l'm horn“? fnghtePedl” Miss i As she passed the spot where, stretched-"in? Attimn’s “’1‘” Med her c°usm- “Thatv‘ such anguish, she last saw the unfortunate; , George Skipworth, she could not refrainfrom. George Skipworth’s when” 2 the shuddering glancs she always gave mass My lady gave the off pony so sudden a lash . f --—was it fancy, or did she really see' adornf that an old man breaking stonean the road ' there now? ~ _. . _ had hard Work to Won} the bounding carriage» ' Her heart almost stopped its heating as, find solemnly PFOPbesled 9' smash before her clearly a longer glance told her it was no fancy“ ladysml} rethed home. conjured up by morbid memory, but a human “1' W131] you had 110“ told being, halt-hidden in its crouchingattitude,‘ by" I . the (rees’ dark shadowsand the long grass. ,' ‘ “I don’t see why I should disown myself I in the fascination of terror she gazed till-this ' because you’ve happened to make “(113111153909 figure made a. movement. Its headmas raised - with Mr. Skipworth, senior. How dld you do as if in observance of herself; and distinctly, as. it, Aubrey?” ' the light caught it, did she recognize the white ‘ 'Allbrey "gated her introducthn, and the hair and harsh features of the man she old man’s Peculiarities and Norma tempem‘ not seen since the encounter at the 'statitmww ' ment. r the father of him whom Alberta, on that veryr‘. “Why 3130"“ ha come down here?” she ' spot, taunted almost to his death. _ v 3 Distinctly, as his head sunkagain, did? shef' questioned, feariully. . “Doubtlese yon have bewitched him,” was see another motion—his white hand lessened, » the careless reply: “and he might have made and the something it hold; then fear flaws: you an 0381' aush DOW if my unfortunate aP‘ wings to her feet, and she darted Mahala: parition had not heWildered him. I trust he hardly paused until the Hall steps were ' gained. “ " “is LadyPerriman in the drawing‘rooml‘f,» she askedthe butler opening the door. a ' ' ' “No, miss; her ladyship isn’t yet returned}? “Returned! Where from?" . . v .5 “She drove Sir Edgar to the station, an; ' hour as», {should say it was, miss. He was 1-. telegraphed for up to London, I believe.”_ . And the man, well-trained though he stared in surpri.e at the way his neWs aimed. his hearer. ' . V ‘ r, In a. second, without pause 101'“ thought, ’A‘u—jé; brey was flying to retrace her steps,in.no ‘ alarm at Sir Edgar’s telegram, Which she knew?“ ‘ 'Well reterredubut to some scientific dinner ‘61" . pendercns meeting, but in the thought, “Al-j ' “,- ,b«>rta must pass .that pic all” and the impul»; ; sive certainty that'flior Lady Eminent I fit . am a hundred timesmore delighted at making; “Very like—very like indeed you are, ladiesl"-—lifting his searching glance again ;-——" and her ladyship, tired of the'novelty, care- lessly waved him aside. “But Isee the differ- enoe distinctly now; it lies in expresion. Once again let me thank you for your obliging can- dori”—-raising his voice as the ponies dart for- ward. “ It has saved me from an irreparable mistake!” he thought and muttered to' himself in his slow walk to the village. “Have you- forgotten another letter you wrote with that same-hand, lady—a letter which, stained with the lifeblood of the heart it rested on, is here on mine to demand its vengeance?” -. “I admire the style of acquaintance you’ve him your former .that is all. I’m airaid he was a little struck by my superior heal“??? but after all the son’s afléction has 0083 me, I should not care about ; captivating the iather.” " 0h, Alberta! . how can you dare "win a ! tone ’0: deep feeling—“to joke on that Sub 'ect?’ J r“ We will chime it then What is the latest from your Grexfatef” ‘9 I can hear nothing more till hevarrives in England, nhich may be Very soon'now’w she answered, unhesitatmgly, but with her head turned away. " ~ " “ He is really on his Way home?” ’ “Yes; in the Swallow.” r ‘9 To claim you in person. With what rap-r tare you will deliver yourself to in. keeping, " impenetrauaaav. 1' I J'r’ «‘a'v‘l V, r . ‘it was old Skipworth was crouching and} wait- ing. ' , ‘ r Clearly on the evening air as theng ran V ' she heard the wheels of the little carriage, and -, 5 > the pony’s heels and bells. ~ __ v Nearer and faster they came; longer seemed ' the road, and slower. her feet. V Oh, for power to Warn Alberta! Oh, for anything to stay that carriage but for a min- , utel ‘ ' — On she flew. She could see the spot; she could see the ponyl f w. . nWith what breath she had she assayed a, 2‘ shout, waving her handkerchief the while, and ,~'\, ...‘..“Bangl”’—there was the shot, and Alberta! ”‘ retaining unhurt her seat and reins as the? < .7 startled pony swerved aside, to dash full speed i ‘7 ‘across the park. . Aubrey strained her eyes, after that mad : -‘ "rush ever the uneven grass, between the scat- .. tered trees, and among the stumps and roots. ' _Her ladyship’s nerve was perfect, and the "’carriagorstrong. Twenty times did they es- ‘pape, and at the twenty-first there came a -' stumble, a crash, and Lady Perriman was ,, thrown with terrific force to the ground. V CHAPTER VII. ., 2; 2 ans own Lovnn. days for Miss Attison while her cousin my unconscious of her imminent danger, and Sir‘Edgar fldgeted and bemoaned, questioning, and ordering, and worrying, albeit grieving ‘ .-“"truly tor the beautiful wife whose life hung in 1 ‘7a balance. .' ' C‘Allthat money could give, Sir Edgar pro- ",«vided; all that care and love could lavish, , ‘Aubrey’bestowed; and inch by inch youth and : strength gained the mastery, and the lips of . the famous conclave of London physicians pro- , , bounced at last my lady out of danger—-—and a cripple for life. Never to walk—never to stand a.:~npright again! . ‘ . I, . But, in the sad days before it was known that even such a half-life would be spared, Aubrey, hanging hour after hour over that couch, in J‘ rthe’expectation that each one might be its * "Occupant’s last, paid little heed to the reports " and surmises as to who had fired that fatal shot, j _which,'heard at the Hall, was known to have F“ ' been the thing that frightened the pony. f . _ . ;Did she heed, she would not grant the in- ‘L: gformation she was capable of giving, for the certainty that Alberta had earned her punish- * .. I mean-that, severe as it was, it was but, 2 ah‘umanly speaking, retribution for‘ her own .‘ r cruelty—was the sharpest point of loving Au- ] .brey’s sorrow.‘ ‘ ' . > :Never glancing at the papers, she knew ‘ nothing of~ the 'Swallow’s oflicially announced , 'arrival:‘and'a letterfrqm Laura Rogers, which, 4 _ utter pages of horror at her ladyship’s accident, ‘ ' Skipworth traveling in your traini' went on to say, “You remember old Mr. Well, he ' has just come back as suddenly as he'left home, and is so unmistakably insane now-violently ? so, not harmlessly peculiar as he Was before—- that the Commissioner of Lunacy, or some such ‘ person, has ordered his removal to an asylum, r and there he is going. or gone ”--this did but elicit another of the sighs so much more natural to Aubrey just than than the smiles her face seemed made for. But the day before my lady was announCed out of danger, a casual observation from some- body about Mr. Lydell’s having returned home at last penetrated Aubrey’s preoccupation. And the afternoon of that same day, when a whispered message was brought to her in the invalid’s chamber, that a gentleman was wait- ing in the drawing-room to see her—a gentle- inan who would take no denial, but promised not to' detain her long—a great flush came to the cheek that confinement and anxiety had made so pale; and the girl, hastily signing to the nurse to take her place, obeyed the sum- mon without reflecting that the servant would have recognized Mr. Lydelland given hisname ,, had the visitor been he. - 3 ' ‘ She did not reflect; she onlyfelt; andher breath was quick, her hand trembling, as she entered the drawing room, to confront—a . stranger. ‘ .- He was a tall, dark, flashily-dressed man, with ungentlemanly hands and too much- jewelry; and he did not attempt to repress ' the start of admiration the girl’s appearance climbed. ‘ - ‘ \ * Aubrey bowed, and hated herself for that quick throb of disappointment. Then she » drew back her hand haughtily as the stranger advanced to possesshimselt of it in ‘ a con- - fident and familiar manner, ' - “You didn’t seem to be'expecting me; but ‘ you got my letter this morning surely?” he stopped, rather taken aback. ' v. “ Your letter? I am not aware.” “What, you don’t know mel Come now,‘ that’s too good a joke!” and the sound of his own laugh successfully reinstated him in his own opinion. “That dander-headed footman made a blunder over my name, I suppose, ‘ though it isn’t such a dimcult one to catch,either. Your humble servant, P. M. Grey, my dear Aubrey,” and, smiling in her face, he again made a dive for the diamond-flashing hand. She gave him her hand, and stood the shock, drawing aside, however, in a manner he could not mistake,. from the endearme'nts he would iain proceed with; and then she seated her-, self in a mechanical, dazed kind of way at same little distance from the chair to which she motioned herlover. Her lover! The man she was pledged to marry: The man by who”, side and under ' , Perriman, is so dangerously ill,” the girl tel-- r" a V I I f g '. , F15: Trashcan H should be passed! 4 Those three sentences turned fl themselves over, and rung themselves together, and ' burned themselves into Aubrey’s brain the while she smiled upon him, and answered monosyllably his flowof talk. ., ' Anything but vulgarity, she told herself, she could have learned in time to endure. From that her innate soul revolted; and that man, alas! was more wholly vulgar, more, utterly devoid, of all pretensions to the title~ gentleman, than his letters had prepared her for. \ He was loud, confident, coarse, and would be very lover-like if the fair one were ,notlso .deucedly high and mighty, as, he informed. ‘ himself—so confoundedly cold to a fellow, as he hinted to her. I “I should have been down here yesterday it that'blooming lawyer of yours hadn’t — layed me, but I wrote to you directly I got 0 London, and I made sure it was the right address.” " ' v “ have had scarcely time tornotice my letters the last day or two; my cousin, Lady— tered. , ' “But my writing. I should have thought you would haveknown that, anyhow,” in'an injured tone. ' , _ “Doubtless, if my thoughts had been less engrossed, I should have done.” He stared at her boldly awhile, studying, in satisfaction, and without ceremony, her rare beauty of feature and form, then broke forth gdmiringly, “’Pon my word, my dear, your photo does not do you justice not by one half +110, 110: a quarter. I was regularly knocked backwards When you came in just now—- knocked Over, as they say, with amazement. Ofcourse I thought the likeness a very pretty girl, and me a lucky dog to get hold 0; such a one. But the original "—leaning forward for another tender capture—flit as superior as ' light to dark—out and out superior—coloring, style,everything:i A I I . V ‘ 'A bray was but human, and despite the honorable resolutions with which her mind was made up, and which she was nobly trying to bring HOW to the fore, she could not help shrinking from that touch, and the coarse leer or the face so near her own. Mr. GreY’B Physiognomywas not improved by an exprewon Of marked displeasure. “Dash it any I say. Aubrey, you are cool— devilish cool and stiff!” ‘ 3 guardianship the, ~remaimli’l‘ bf 1161:)“ ‘l ~ for your treating a fellow so precious. coldly - ill, to-day. I hope next time you see Anything you suggest, you know.” ,4». “I beg your pardon,» she n, trying with might and mam to and“, aignad vanquish incli‘fiation.= “Idon’t think 1 am quite my. .v self ‘tcrday; the anxiety and «1‘an of my cousinfs' 1111185? have ' been so and her 1 ‘stateissocritlcaltomyy r ‘L 7 _. I _ ..'. 1.1." ‘ _ é: :' ' 5V I ‘ ,2, ‘.‘ 0: course, :sorry [for ’ leaks; ship’s illness,” he interrupted, ungeuerousl‘y‘ , > pressing‘his advantage-e“ shocked, and all that; "j " Y but I can’t say that I see that is excuse enough ‘7 and ofl-hand—La fellow, too, who hasjustoomej; -« a such a long journey—and a beast of .a one we . had l—at your express invitation, Miss Attison.” ,_ “ You must excuse it all, please,” she plead-y, ed, with her lovely eyes raised for the tithe to his. “ Your coming has been so sudden and unEXpected; and, as I said, I am ,nervfioiis; , , me, you“ will be better satisfied.” ‘ c « 3 “You ain’t going to dismiss me like this?” he complained, taking the hint her rising glance toward the door were intended to give,- “ Of Course, with illness in the heuse, I “don’t expect, as I otherwise should, to be regularly stay; but just for the. day, you know. -~ We have such lots to talk over, you and ' What made your father repent so all of a sudden, and you fall into his views so agreenbly; how singularly} chanced to first cast my eyes on that advertisement of your lawyer. chap; and what a delight your "first sweet letter Was to me, what you thought of mine, and—,5" . . ,. L “Will you step upstairs, Miss Attis’on, ‘ ‘ soon as possibleii’fher ladyship’s maid with a tap at the door. - v " And Aubrey turned piteeusly to ‘ r pardon. J ‘__ V “TA; “ You must excuse me now, please. I am afraid she is worse. I am very, very soer be so rude, but you see how it is.” . a ” ' ‘ “I suppose I must. Well, then, I tear self away for the present, and the best-thing'I“ can do is to run back to town and. hurry slow coaches of lawyers on a biwhasten‘tbinigs‘, for the wedding as much as I' can; for yoifll‘ let it be soon, won’t you, sweet? Directly ladyship’s better, we will say.” ’ I then. Goedfiby.” . “ He detained her hand. . x g “If you’ll give me ’a meature, » I; getting the rings—the engaged one, anyhowé and bring it down next time Icome. ‘ Have you got any fancy about the stones or pattern! “Oh, I leave it all to,youi”-in a {ctr-’1 impatience. “ Choose what you like. Mr. gram; I shall be sure to be satisfied; and, forgive.,,.me,_j I must go.” . i ' -" f He would have taken her in his-arms, but: something in the proud, beautiful face with; held him; and cementing himself With 0% sive kisses on the reluctant little handaihe . her go, and outside the Hall called himself, fool for his timidity; while Aubrey went to her cousin’s room with an additional weight ,0, '-i I 'atld‘éd' upon, her heart," already greatly sewerburdened. ’ < , r . - = CHAPTER VIII. " I , man AND Immoral). I. “Is Max Lydell at home, do you know?” 7, Lady Perriman questioned from the sofa, to ,_ lwhich the doctor had that day allowed her to 37;: be removed. . ‘ And Au‘brey answered, “I think not. We we’re told he had returned a week or m ago, but it proved a false report.” ‘ I ’ . Silence alittle while; then myxlady’s feeble iwhite fingers picked up her cousin’s hand. .. V" ‘5Where did this new ring come from, ‘ Aubrey?” ' ;" J'With the questioning bright eyes full on 1 hers. ‘ Aubrey attempted no equivocation; V ;\;'merely preluding. “You Were too ill to be told it at the time, dear,” she related her be- trothed’s visit, and subsequent present of that sign ,oihetrothal. ' ' ,"-"My lady’s perception was as keen as ever; ; and, though no word of Miss Attison’s breathed ‘ disappointment or repulsion, nOne the less did her» hearer fathom how fatally her own pre- fictions of the style of man this Australian 5‘lover would prove had fulfilled them selves. ' ,1' But, instead of triumph or teasing, she only ’murmured, with wistful pressure or the hand she held, “Darling, I am sorry 1” ',“Now for the old arguments, in renewed ._ forcel” Aubrey tried to laugh, lightly; but her fladys‘hip check her head; something infinitely more potent than words Lpfi‘nine to divert you from the straight 'course honor or duty point you out, and do not feel ‘tsEur‘eT that I am not also beginning ”--a pause; when she finished, with an‘ effort—“to wish that, in the days I can never undo, my own stepshad been a trifle straighter, or that/I had 'Ypai‘d better heed to your counsels, dear old .,i;ientor.”_ This Was a; great deal for mylady to say, find Aubrey bent tearfully to kiss the rates, so ;.paJe’and changed,: that met hers, with a warm- ~erpcaress than in those old days. ‘ l .l‘f-I might haVe spared myself something, you are thinking, Aubrey,” whispered my " lady, mour’nfully; “ but I don’t see that I have ginach ‘right to complain. I did not pay too .Vmuch regard for other peeple’s sufferings, you know; and, if ever‘a hand prepared its own punishment, mine did. -I have had time to think all that over these long, quiet days, you fineayn‘nd there dawns upon me sometimes the Windy .that’?—~and the whisper sunk lewer—’- f‘ in the highest sense, you know, this afliiction ‘f.may"belthe', best thing’ that could have ever- ?takenme; onlyuo'nly there is alwaysthe past. '-’Ifs‘uflering could undothatl” »_ “I’m beginning to see that it would take. l. ‘5; Therefwas a hang pause, as'the" sat] ,with clasped hands; and Aubrey’s heart was ‘ raised in hopefulness' that that dark' fcloud‘of . . 1 trial might indeed have the brightest or all ‘ linings for Alberta. Then Lady Perriman said, slewly, “ I want to see Max Lydell, though'I am afraid it could do no good beyond relieving, myown ,con-’ ‘ science. I must ask .Edgar when he thinks him likely to return; and meanwhile, Aubrey ” -——with a dash of her old manner her cousin was glad to see—“ when is Mr. Grey to favor you with another visit? I must be introduced to my inevitable cousin.” ‘ » ‘ “You.will have the chance before long, I have no don t.”4 Aubrey tried hard to make her tone as ht as her words. f‘ In fact,'h”e fixed to come t marrow, but I fancy'there is some little hitch in the business part of the aflair, which may prevent him; for I had a letter £50m Mr. Robins, this morning, asking me to, go. up to his oiflce,‘ or proposing himself coming down here without delay, as it is imperative he should see me at once on a most important matter.” A . r The girl imitated so exactly the precise little solicitor’s tone and manner in that laSt "‘ Well, which are you going to do?” “I’m not decided. Edgar hates Mr. Robins - i coming here, does not be? But I don’t like the idea of leaving you for a whole day, and it would take me nearly that, running uy'and down and discussing.” ‘ - should, what matter? .I can be left quiteWell to my own resources now." And Aubrey thought how unlike Alberta that unselfish speech would have been a month ago. ' A [ Miss Attison went up to town the following ' jmorning,’ and' found Mr. Robins in greater 5 perturbation than she had ever deemed it pos. sible he could evince. . He closed the door with much cautionand ' suspicion of impossible eavesdroppers, and stirred the fire with so many ominous clearings 'of his throat, that the young lady' became : deeply impressed with the importance, though not one whit wiser as to the nature, of the» f matter she had been summoned to discuss. at length, when procrastination would "avail him no longer, “it is the most unpleasant thing I have to acquaint you with—a really, I, must style it, humiliating confession foran old practitioner like myself ,to. be obliged tomake. But the long and short 01" it is, my dear Miss i Attison, we have met the biggest rogue of...'0ur time rather late in ‘our life, and he has outwit- ted us—o twitted us pro tem. that is to to say. I I I flatter y's‘elf we are returning the complir sentence, that my lady laughed'as she inquired, “0h, nonsensel— it need not; and if it- “ My dear young lady,” Mr. Robins began' V / .I a; i . J I, r ‘ s-fl - 4‘“ A“ ‘ f } .r. \ \4 a ‘, . ' i I ’ merit haw—ha, Ira-1"" rubbingJiis hands in a [l ' revived and congratulatory/way. , f,‘ It is very astonishing tohear of your be- v ing outwitted, Mr. Robins,” returned his client, politely. “'But does it concern me particular- 1373”), , “Unfortunately, it does. Unfortunately, my dear young lady, it does. vYour estimable, father’s will, and his peculiar clauses in refer- ence to yourSelf. I remonstrated with my late client upon those clauses, I assure you; but he was firm—firm and clear ashe was upon ,all points. - , , *“ To give you the gist of the matter in a nut- : shell,”—the prosy old man suddenly .changed his style, inview 'of his hearer’s unconcealed impatience, himself as Philip Maximilian Grey, and, under your late father’s will, the authorized claimant . of your hand, who on such pretenses obtained an interview with you some short while ago, ' ' has been proved to us since unmistakably to be —the rankest impostor.” The keen little man’s eyes were fixed on his client, and twinkled as they beheld the eflect of his words. Aubrey could have throWn her arms round his neck, and kissed the lips that had uttered open sesame to her letters; .or she could have whirled the prim little 'man iny-a mad valse round the‘ dingy walls that, had heard the werds she scarcely dared believe. “She longed to “do something wilder and more startling than her lady-like life had. ever been guilty of; and though, by dint of great self- ' command, she subdued such longings and re- tained her seat and silence, her expressive face was easy for less sharp eyes to read than those of the solicitor, chuckling in relief, and pro- ceeding to narrate the facts of the case as lately brought to light, and the cunning which had outwitted his own shrewdness. Divested of legal phraseology’ and condensed, his narrative was as follows:— “Philip Grey, the man wronged by Mr. At- tison, died when his son was but two years old; and this Aubrey’s father knew, asalso that Mrs. Grey and her son then changed their place of residence; but he seems to have been ignorant or careless ot the fact that eight years later the. mother married again, and that her boy accompanied herself and her second hus“and to England. “ She had only one child by her second hus- band, a boy, who died young, and upon his death the’desolate father adopted little Philip Grey as'his Own, and from‘that time, at home V 'and at school, the boy was far more generally known by his stepfather’s/surnume than his Own. “' On his stepfather’s death, the young man, in hccordance With his wnl, succeeded to his name as well as his property. ' «The first advertisement inserted ‘by Mr. smell refi “ the person who has represented ~ . than he permitted {Hughes to perceive. | steam an Australian 'paper met by chance , f «J the eyes of a young man to whom it suggested, atoms the idea he so cleverly, in part, carried out—viz, to personate the Philip Grey “sought. j v. r_ j for. ' , . ‘5 ,“ Mr. Robins’s first letter was a tempting ' f j : L fortune , v --the heiress and- her fortune, of the without the heiress. ~ ' ., . - “ Cunning as clever, and unscrupulous cunning, Hughes craftin prepared his course by bribing and cajoling conlederates,among;, ,, whom was his. mother, Mrs. Grey’s “old- nurse, f v and confidante. 7 “ This woman happened. to be in possession of several old letters and diaries of that lady’s, I] which naturally proved invaluable for her ‘ son’s present purpose, and Hughes managed to; hoodwink the lawyer, whose eyes—though ‘ this Mr. Robins hinted not—might berender'ed less keen and flaw-discerning by a natural de- ' sire to obtain the substantial legacy Mr. Ate _ tison had decreed his reward for successful, dis~ ,3 covery of Philip Grey. \ . l ) “Rendered bolder and bolder by'su‘ccess,,f Hughes took hisnext step—came over‘to Eng; land, interviewed the’ lawyer, and visited betrothed, trusting to his luck and :daringfito. carry him safely over' the very dangerous ground he now knew himself to be treading, “arid anxious to secure his br‘uie and her gold with ' as much, expedition and secrecy as possiblee,‘ J, and retreat with them into safety abread.‘ < , 1 , “ But on his quitting Perriman Hall after the ‘w not, wholly unsatisfactory interview he we: held with Miss Attison—not wholly unsatis- factory, because if Aubrey should retract her? , promise, her money must still be his—his pleasant meditations were interrupted sudden“ ly by the last man on earth he expected “or wished to find himself face to face with—.311; man he was impersonating—the veritable Grey. l ' ‘ :v 4 : - What bold inventions and unscrupulous lies tided Hughes over such an apparently encounter need not be detailed here; encugh‘? that the other’s, suspicions were more “He is an acquaintance of yours, the fide Philip Maximilian Grey, or Philip Maxié, milian Grey Lydell, as is his present title,"Mr. Robins continued to his breathless r(listeiierti “and from some words of, yours had gained an inkling of the imposture attempted. 5 « i “Mr. Lydell came straight up to us, and,“ after consultation, acted upon our advice in 0b: taining a private interview with the, mean; Hughes, and dragging from him, by meanset. a little whip he already ‘held over him, a I contession and renunciation of his imposturegga and, to make a longlnatter short. my young lady, the affair is now, ,as straight. and . clear as neonday. . , _. “v “Mr. Lydellis identity is proved'as .2” trovertibly as Ralph Hughes lmposturéf. That, i u ~ latter gentleman isno’w' in our hands, and his : "" ,fate will be as you choose to decide it. j q , X :p 5 “Perhaps you will talk it ‘over‘privately ‘I'E‘with' Mr. "Lydell, whom I am expecting every j ,mOmen't,” glancingat his/watch. I .L_ . , ‘ffl can stay no longer to—‘day,” said Aubrey, l , "xtrislngas suddenly as if her seat had caught‘ - fire; but punctuality was too quick for her. A— clerk entered to announce Mr. Lydell;§ v an'd7Mr. Robins observed, as he bustled to the g _‘7 dour, “ Talk it over quietly between yourselves, V p I. Miss Attison, and favor me with your instruc- ‘ ‘ ’- .tions on my return from a little pressing busi- l 1 ‘ nets in the next room.” The door closed, and among the scatteredl [papers and musty books Aubrey and Max Ly- ,‘bdellwlare left alone. _ ' ; A man of ,the world and a woman of the 3; , world Were they, however; and so, though the g’p'osltion - for either was embarrassing as could yell be possible, society’s education was not at . i ault. ' * "They shook hands calmly, and Miss Attison shade pretty inquiries after Mr. Lydell’s arm, which she. regretted to see yet in its sling; I and' Mr. Lydell made corresponding ones § about Lady Perriniau’s health, lamented her ‘ *‘ ‘ , ,cident, and rejoiced Over her partial re- ;‘GWQX‘Y- . ' * , So far,,~so good. Then came a suspicion of .- awlrWardness, which, woman-like, Aubrey was first. to surmount. q » 'Vlf‘The subject Mr. Robins has left us to dis- cuss listhis horrible limpostor’s fate, Mr. Ly- ell, Of course he deserves all the punishment that the law. could give him; but I think that in, the relief of finding him to the an impos- I: really feel more disposed to reward than 2 punish.” ' « ‘ a ~Thench’e stopped. She had begun so well, , * was conscious she, had ended as badly, as j “ 'r'flngersneryously busied themselves among 2 Robins’s red tape, and she felt the color mounting hotly to her face. Society’s ease : Twas'mnng. , f“, Your wish settles the matter,” he respond- ..pd, gravely. “Hughes shall be quietly ‘dis- , "patched from this country. and there. is little ' tear of his troubling it again; as little fear ; also, »I.think, of his failing ere long to get the f [deserts he, misses to-day.” v ~ ‘ . L . pause during which Aubrey would give l I, ,jwords, and only‘such as she would die rather 5 1. than utter camgijcrowding into her head, while heart throb ed noisily as it seemed to her- semi: and her eyes and fingers clung to. Mr. Robin’s papers. , ,Then Max Lydell continued—he was stand- ing by the window, and turned his V head as it toget a better view of. a something important .. l . 4, _ y ' proposed 1” [Worlds for any idea. that ,she could turn into " ‘ in the street beam—“,1 am thoroughly glad KW}. ‘ V Z I I to‘ii'av; the means '61" discovering" and}. crushing that flagrant, outrageous imposture; thoroughly glad ,to havevd‘eliver’ed you from" the toils of such a~ scoundrel—such a low-. minded, vulgar scam 0, too. I don’t know how, i for even that one brief interview, you could I ‘ have tolerated him in the role he‘assumed.” Something in the tone of that last sentence raised Aubrey’s eyes with a flash. The sun. was shining full on the handsome face opposite -—.the cold, dark face, with its impenetrable eyes fixed on herself in a quiet,'chilling steadis ness, that, alas! her own blue ones, at the1 mercy of their traitor heart, were nomatch for. , ’ to know that he can appear in that role no‘ more,” she faltcred. . ‘ “Yet had me been the person he' declared himself to be, you would, at whatever cost, whatever repugnance to “your feelings, have gone through with the affair?” . “I could not retract my promise ' given ' to the dead,”—+almost inaudibly. , ’ ‘ Helooked at her fixedly awhile longer; then turned away to say, in the restrained tone-that. marks an efliort, “My knowledge of your father’s will is almost as recent as yours 0!. my identity; but i believe—Mr. Robins inform- ed me-«the will is so worded, is it not, that you retain the property if I decline the contract She bowed assent. uflfocate. “ Then ”-—hnrriedly,‘ and in accents no casual bearer would recognize as Max Lydell’s—‘fit To speak would :be to only remains for me to restoreto you, who. have the indisputable right to claim it, the fortune to which I have no claim whatever; and release you at the same time from the irksome letters you have home so patiently for so long; and I need intrude upon you no I Iurthcr,”—mhving slowly. . Couched in courteous language; uttered in a delicate, gentlemanly way; yet, withal, a posi. tive rejection of herself—anLunhesitating re- ,- fusal to take her at any price—a seeming of gold weighted with her'hand! v Aubrey felt ‘that she had, indeed, descended to the lowest depths; that humiliation could. hold- nothing more bitter for her than this mo- l ment, and in the poignancy of the stab she sprung to her feet. . ,“ Hear my voice on the subject before‘you so coolly conclude it, Mr. Lydell,” she exclaimv-r' ed, arresting his hand on the door; “I was bound by my word so unfortunately and rash- ly pledged—(a bond which, regretted the mos ' ment it was entered into, has never been-so bitterly repented as within the last ten min- utes)——to let you be the spokesman of the ‘wozds I longed for power to utter. But those words have, as you say, set me free, and Icon “I tell you, I cannot describe the relief it is , .,/. i , bility; or hope. “.a‘ ' . return the insult . you have dared to put upon. ' me., You shall take the meney that ought to be yours! "I will not, have one penny of it! ' Do you hear! I'will not!” " _Though her voice was not raised one tone above the low sweetness. Lydell had so often, admired, she faced him, agitatedand excited, nevertheless, with burning cheeks and quiver- ' ing lips, and eyes'that, in their passionate scorn - and brightness, rose unflinchingiy to his. She faced him with hands tightly clasped to ' still their trembling, and he stood in wonder that grow with each syllable he heard. ‘ “ Insult, Miss Attison! I assure you noth- V ing on earth could he further from my thoughts; and, if my words are capable of such interpre- tation, I humbly retract each and all. I can sayno more.” ‘ “But you shall say more! You shall say , that you will take back the hateful money it would kill me to keep! Take it, Mr. Lydell,~I implore,-I entreatl”-—with her hand unconsci- ously grasping his arm. His demeanor changed suddenly under the touch of those cold little fingers. His face crimsoned,theu paled, and he [reed himself, hastily from their clasp. . “ Aubrey ”—-and too agitated Were they both to notice the involuntary utterance of her Christian names—“you have changed, or I have strange) y misunderstood you. I thought wealth had an attraction for you.” ' p “ I hate it! I detest it!” she responded, with a vehemence that paused not to consider its words. 3"‘Poor, 1 hould have been free. It is money alone that I have to thank for the hate- ful bonds 1 have borne, as you say, patiently, for so long—for’the crowning humiliation I havenbeen rated to endure at your hands to» dayl ‘ I . ‘ “Humiliation at my hands! I tell you I would die rather than—” He checked himself with partial recovery of self-command, and a gaze into . her eyes that in excitement’s ' strengzhjunfalteringly met it—a gaze that i, seemed as if it would penetrate those pure . blue depths to read the Very soul beyond. “' Tell me just this. Aubrey,” he commanded, his face lighting with a sudden flash ‘ of pOSSi- ‘.‘ Answer this one question honestly, without trifling or prevurication: Was it this promise to your father, or dread of poverty, that made yon throw poor, George Skipworth over?” , i She neither trifled nor prevaricated, nor did she, attempt any honest answer; merely stared him back in the {ace in blank bewilderment. , “Youare; keeping me in torture,” he said, -' ., hoarsely; V , , »\ , “I don’t understand you in the least. I ‘ , 1 throw George sapwth over! What was he ever tome?” .‘ ' ' _ “0n!” mmwommd‘to ml” pm”, a .rLEne‘ED Tommy, . i _ _ .love of deception?” >29~ x ,. Then she freed her hands, and turned in" » haughtiest indignation. ‘ ; ' - ' 3‘ j “ Mr. Lydell, is it possible you have been. thinkihg'that ofme?” ' ' ’ . J ' In the proud, hurt scorn he felt-'truth’s ring; f > a but he could not trust his feelings in this mate ' ter, and their very eflorts for the, 5 made him the more cautious and doubting: 1; " I; 5.1 “ His own lips told me. My own eyes saw: ,,‘3 :7 you with him in the park at Perriman. my , ‘ own ears heard you utter some _of the words that goaded him to his death. Aubrey, v 7’ you be' truthful ones? Is sufi'ering nothing to? I you that you play with it' thus, for theyery' “ I think you are losng your‘ sensefilb‘. LY» dell,” she retorted, quietly, her self-command returning as fast as his deserted him; “audio: t are perhaps not accountable tor the rudeness? you are'uttering. What mr. Skip‘wOrth you, or what you saw or heard, I do not know. ; ,_ I Only know that I can assure you solemnly,” as if on my oath—truthfully, as if were. , the last words my lips should speakethat this fancy of yours you wrong me mostutr terly. George Skipworth was never lover of, mine.” , ~ . s ' v “ “I saw, you with him,” he repeated. 4 I - “For a few minutes only, and as some one _ else’s deputy." ' _ v ' , * . “ Whose?” , p . - > I» “ I cannotbetray another’s secret,” she said,- ' ‘ proudly. ‘-‘ Believe me or not, as you like; it"; -~' is a matter of indifference. It you donht'mj? 'word, I can condescend- to no further proof.” ,‘f Lydell’s answer was prevented by " Robins’s step outside, and Mr. Robins’s quick 5 5, glance from one to another of the clientshe " left for amicable discussion. ’ . .— In feminine _ quickness Miss ,Attison again her own gracious self. -, . 7 “ Mr. Lydell will tell you the conclusions i and 1 have arrived at.” She turned to the . lawyer smilingly. “ If I stop another moment, I shall lose the down—train I want mostparticu-g I _ larly to catch. Good-by, Mr. Robins. ' Good"- by, Mr. Lydell.” - , ' - y - ' And she had bOWed, and was gone. ‘ CHAPTER IX. . . IN LOV’E’S BONDS. ' , “Han ladyship is waiting tea for a miss.”‘ ' ’ v _ ‘- ‘ Her maid brought the message to directly she entered the Hall, andbefore minutes had been spent in her cousin’s company. the girl knew 'it was vain to attempt tic-hide,"~ anything tram her searching eyes andlintuitive. perceptiom " , -_ , t ‘ And it"w'assom'e relief to tell it all,(humiiig . rating recital though it Was, to on s" . "' ' l a listener.asAiherta oved hmeu up?! ,v Resonate, ; I be. PLEDGED so MARRY. -\ \ r " ,-. ') )5.- is or her own the bitter humiliation that followed . fiitso quickly, and under which her sensitive ' , feelings were; quivering. arerown the hot crimsgn face to her own. ' shall be able to congratulate you yet, - p ' _~_1 ,really congratulate you heartily upon "your engagement, Aubrey, after all our argu- fments and‘_disputes on the knotty point. But I 11~ glad you have left me one little atonement ' there is the gong, darling; run away, and get ~ dressed, and look bright.” ' L-,..'f'.-And‘§§vhile Aubrey and Sir Edgar went ] fate-wide through the’ ponderous dinner, my ,;lady wrete a little penciled‘ note, which she __ ” ‘,.g’iave to her maid with the order to dispatch a ‘ - " groom with it to Mr. Lydell’s house first thing ,_,t0‘morrow morning. ’"" 2 Aubrey came in ' to'i‘the village, and catching a glimpse of a strange horse being promenaded before the «stables, and a murmur of conversation from =her.cousin’s boudoir, imagined the doctor to be ~paying his daily visit, so divested herself quiet- ;ly of her walking things, and went down to ‘jthe: drawing-mom to await his departure. \ ,3 ’By the time her patience was exhausted she heard him taking leave and coming down the . Stairs; but standing before the fire, with her I,».v-‘?1_,ris‘ed: to hear his steps pause outside it, and «then slowly enter. As she turned quickly, she found herself face life face with Max Lydell. 7, . ‘.‘ I am. here to crave v forgiveness, Miss Atti- ison,”‘,so Lydell began. “I have just had a ” g conversation with Lady Perriman, and “fer ' lips have told me what my own reason would have dens long ago had I not been too stubborn a fool to listen ‘to it. How baser I if wronged you in that matter of poor George vsskipworth’sl How grossly my unworthy, cow- .;ardl accusations insulted you yesterday! I g "should-not have, dared to» force myself into g-your ,presence-again,” he continued, in the 1 same low, repressed tone, after vainly waiting «"301. movement or response, “ but for her lady- ship’s express stipulation that I should tell you the amends she has made you at last; and now _v I it .is-presumptuous, it “is hopeless, I know, to seek/you to look charitably on such aggravated ': édnsOlenbe as mine has been.” He paused, and there was no sound. His eyes, kindled and impassioned as their dark depths were, cbulcl win no glance for hope or despair, for Aubrey’s auburn head was buried ' her hands. ' - VMother few moments, the clock ticked on, g: 'fbrey’s'flrst revelation, was some kind of solace ‘ .to' the girl for the pain of putting into words ' W" 7 f’tWhe‘n it u as [all told, my lady smiled, and ' to make for my ov‘vn hideous selfishness. Now, ’ next morning from a walk 2 = back to the drawing-room door, she was sur-, then Lydell’s' voice grew hoarse 'in the J agony ' ’ stronger than’his iron will. ’ ' ’ ‘ ' . “Forgiveness is too much to expect. : I thought so; and to ofler you apologies is but a ' mockery. I have no right—no excuse for an—f noying you further; and yet I ask you to' bear ' V with me, Aubrey, a few moments longer—Jig- ten to the confession my yesterday’s madness has rendered such a hopeless one.‘ That my punishment is as bitter, as complete as even you could wish it, you shall knOW, for the mad- ness of my insults was the madness of love-—a love that, as the first of my life, will the , ‘ last—a love as strong as my life, and that means now despair.” Silence as his voice broke, and he strode to ' the window and back with an effort at con- trol. / i “To see you daily, hourly; to fight against the spell of your sweetness, and with each' 2 struggle succumb the deeper; to be haunted day and night by your face, and your voice i ringing in my ears; to know you are all the 3' world to me, and to madly'declare that such ' you should not be; to believe you unworthy an honest man’s life and love, and to feel that mine were as utterly at your mercy as my pride and will were helpless to prevent it— that has been my punishment so far, Aubrey. What it is to be is a. something keener—a. full‘ knowledge of the perfection ‘ ot the prize: that might have been mine, and a never~failing ‘ consciousness that it is lost to me through my own cursed, conceited idiocy.” . He broke ofl’, and the next words were wist- ful and low, with adespair in their forced calm that rung straight to Aubrey’s heart. . “I will make you the one compensation I can. I will take myself out of your sight forever, and whatever your wishes may be I, .SWear to fulfill them.” ‘ . ‘ ‘ With one last lingering look, he crossed the room, and paused at the door; and then Au- ‘ ' bray, extending her arms toward him, cried, . almost shrieked out, “Maxi” ’ He turned, saw her face, and the tale that it. told. ' , Two strides, and her hands were in his. “ Aubrey, is it possible? . Can you forgive?” She raised her eyes to his—her eyes with their depths so much deeper than forgiveness, and smiled, but he hesitated still. _ ’ ’ “Don’t trifle with me, childi” in urgent passion of appeal. “I toldyoul knew how utterly I had wrecked the bliss I might have, once dared to hope possible. Don’t raise the wild tempest of thoughts of what might have been. My control is less than I fancied—my will nowhere. -You offered me friendship once, iAubrey. It is friendship you mean 00-day, is a; g p 7 ' l, :31": .‘sheéhoékaer mummy; v ' rashyl'fiaefwh v58 Punished’m‘hd“ Mg f“‘That is, for you to decide.” ~ ; _ W‘My dehreStI—mylovel” ./ '_ j i I * His arms were round her then,‘ and the au- _‘burn headwas pillowedehappily at last. - x-“lf there be the hope—it there be the fi’ehance, tell me at once; ; You don’t 1 know what the love is I havestifled so long. ' You cannot guess its power it once uncurbed. Aubrey, my love, my darling, may I give it - free scope?” d . ., . ' “Then, for answer, she raised her face, laugh- ing in very rapture. “And how about that candidly avowed opinion‘ that any decent fl0wer-girl would“ fmake, in'your eyes, a far more desirable wife than pretty,Miss Attison?” There came a perplexed memory into his mind. or f‘ Were those my words? How, in the name wonderrJ’ . ' I. * .“ Did I hear them? Mr. Lydell, let this be .a warning to you to distrust Albert Hall core, 'ridorS'and the muffled strangers you pass.” ‘ »“ l have *a dim remembrance now.- 0 I have been a, more ,eonsummate idiot than I even ‘ , Are you 'equgl‘to forgiving that also?” 5 ‘But though the tone ‘was penitent, the smile i Mas confident, for the face be bent tosee was: , nestling again one his breast. ‘ I “.I have'pnot decided yet. I rather fancy that i THE you found me so‘yery unpleasant to get‘efi'v ‘ with; but): should like (to know, it ,yonhavé no objection‘to tell, why you t~ 3: expressed yourselfst determinedly u‘m‘ W! of whom you knewnothing?” ,. l “ I‘had’ seen you and/had admired you more than I liked to own to myself I - A mire the daughter at - the man whose I had been taught’from childhood to detest; that of an underhand injurer of- me made, Forgive the explanation, Aubrey, as forgive that ungentlemanly, hasty sneer; ' which was but a. beginning of this and which I many, a time would have; vet: much to recall, though I knew not a '_; fallen on any ears but those of the man jests provoked it, and by whom I knew it: would be'forgotten as soon as heard.” > ' Then he bent lower, and Whispered “Aubrey, until I hear it from your , shall fancy this happiness too great ' ’ anything but a tantalizing dream with‘a‘ifiude: awakening in store ,for me. Have I your love?” , H - ; ,w- \And she twined her arms timidly Mountains eyes ‘ neck, and out from here blushes «her ‘ his, true as blue. ‘ ' “Max, I ‘only learned myself yestezfiay g how dearly, and deeply, and wholly I do "in ’ Lyon!” , v ' a ‘ , END. ', M)’}./‘J?/’/’//N, yummy 1W}er ‘ “a r ' r i a g‘TVfiESDAY. THIRTY—TWO 00134 V0 PAdES. ‘Da ‘ .ot'leu I n‘ry ezd C’rowal for onThe Truemnd the False. By .pbwll. inf, Collegian: 11nd Siveetlunm. By » firmer, M. D. rrled In llafite; nr,A Ynung Girl’s Temptation. By Rett Winyumi. y > “7'!” fihe Marry Him? Or, The Masked, Bride. By Mrs. Mm'y Rred Cruwell. _ , Ill: Lawful “’lf’e: or,.Myra, thg‘ Child of Adop- Vtinn. By Mrs. Ann,S.,Slcploens. , 3 tor, Out in' the World. ,By: Barney T. n"! 2“: r 5. ."B‘ A Fair Fat-e Campbell. Mad'Marrlaze; or, Denim-m. 7 All it ll‘tqi- ova' . may Reed Crowd . ‘ 03"": Broken Betrathal‘; or,Lore versus Hate. The Irdn By Mary ' iv 1 By ‘Mury Give ’AIIHTA ‘ni-lde '0 1 r 3 will» Author? 12 APR” ofGra ~ '; ' ’ By Boss Kenna ’18.,Wlfh6ut a Heart; orQWnlkihg onjhe Brink. By -‘ I COL Prams! ‘lnxmlmm. ‘ ,, 1714 r; 'nfgnriven from Home. in U16=Worll," etc., etc. H. or, Thokwcrnlrl Necklace. ‘2"- V Alone In thé.WI!rld ; 'nr. Thor You"? liinn’s‘VVnrd. By Lhe Authu? of “ The Bride bl’nn M:Lor,”‘etc., etc; V \Ifilflofliéflen: or, The‘mmnsfis Sweetheart. By Col. fr Prentiss I‘grulwn. ‘ I 16’.The Secret Marriage; or, A Duchess in Spite bf . '. ‘ Herle B)" Sum (Ilnan..l " ’75!an Must-Sister or The Rivull‘ of Hem-ta. 'Mrfilnry Reed emir'an’. y " r - :18 Heart to Heart ’A rubella-Routhwort n. I 19 grgjl‘for Gold gror, Almost Lost. By Mrs. ’M. V. s » .u- -r. - “‘30 Entangled V ’ ‘ 1.1!W'J‘urlly. v , _ ti‘fiijslbil Clinger "or,'l'l)e Gambler’s ~Wife. By Mrs. _ f AnnS;St21-nfns. I ' A 2955:1531!” “er N at : ~or,.A True Knight. By Margaret , I“ Lelanflgp. I . . Bygfiilin‘ed Agnlnst; or, The Winthrop Pride. By -, ‘ Clam August‘s ' [:94 A Loyal Lover-2 or, The Lent of the Grimsps'ths «V w Arabella Sumhworrh. ‘ 2mm»: mamfi Con-In; ‘or, An‘i‘. not Gold nu: «,Dllm-n. By use Kennedy. fifirlfll Idol: or, The ULSmrred Mar-rings;- By Mrs. or, Full: Phyllis'a LDVG.‘ By / ' _ g or, Dangerous Game. By Henrietta lflnry'nued Cv’owell. "(If Flinn-lantern A Yuma-Girl’s Good Nuns. By I szubfibnrbnnpll (Ralph Rnynl), ' - , Now and Foréver or wx. "ma ShoMm m a Byflorirmtm Tlmekeégy.’ ‘ y y ‘39 Orphan Nell. the Orange Girl; or, tho Lost Hair. 3‘: 3 'By Agile Paulie. ’ _ ~80 Ch‘arlotte Temple... By, Mrs. Romn.‘ .r’, The Waverlé'v 'mbm-y isifor sale ‘gsy all‘ newsdealers, ' gent by rpm on receipt of six cents each. _ ~“ ‘ i L {Mystery of Winifred ' as She a Coquette"? 01'. eUStrungo ICQHflIl‘llii.‘ or, Blinded by,Love. By‘ 'k '45 Lucy Temple . Daughter of bliarlntie. ’ ‘ so A,Wld6w'n wnes; o}, , V . i x. . 1' 31 Thethtle "circle; or, Under a Cloud. .33 Mrs. N ury A. Denison. 82 Lani) Year; or, Why She Pruponed.‘ BySnru C’nx- ll. . 33 ImySgilfifsggrggiself; or, Jeanette’s Reparation, 84 llglr-mfnee. Was ller Fortune. By Eleanor 85 The Cuban Heiress; or, The Pr'aoner of Ln Vin-' Hesse. .By Mrs. Muir-y n. Denimm. /‘ ' 86 Only a Schoolmlstreas; or, Her Untold Secrét.‘ By Ambelln S nthwortll; I 87 The “’lng‘ed Messenger; ‘nr, Risking All'for a Heart. By Mrs. Mary Rgud (rpwell. V A " {By Henriettn 'l buckeray. ' ». ue Woman?“ Heart By George S. Kuime. [.40,LOVe'Mad ; or, Betrothml, Married, Divorcgd and.“ > By‘Wm. Mason Turner, M 41 For Her Dear Sake; Sum Clinton. 42 Tlle_ Bouquet Girl; or, A glle Puune. .or, Sm‘ed Erom Himself. By”- / , . Million lol‘Mopvey. Dy. ~48 Marita“, the Primu Domin. 15y Arabellnl‘gnutllo‘ ‘ won .-, ’ - ' - “The Ebon Mask; or, The Mysterious Guardian. ' ~. ’ By Mrs. Mary Raw! C1;0Well.~ - . ‘ ' 46 Tire Three Filters; or. The Mystery 01' uni” lefont. Byéllue Fleming. ,r y , ‘ 4: The areal]: sum-m“: m, :rn. Mystery .or tire Parr-ye. By Mrs. Anna E. l’uner.’ 48 A Mai-rings: ofC&n\'enien(-e . By Sara Clinton. .49 '1 he' Wlt‘e’n Secret; or, "‘l'wlxt. c‘up rung Lip.‘ By' ' (Jul. Jun" Lervis. 50 Sir Archer’s Brlde: By Arabella Snuthwunh. 51 Led Anti-11y. By 0cm. names. 1 ensfied from the Street. , = r fmwwwwwl ,vkw/Nl,,, . . ‘ u e , ~ if i gr if if 5p? or,"l‘l|ev fiuun ‘of Roam. , ‘ 52 llomelean; _or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. By' . Albert. W. Aiken. . \ 58 The Maniac Bride; .or. The Dead Secret of Hollow Ash Hall.‘ By Marmara: Blount. A . Sinra Cluxton. Cecil’s Deceit; or. Jennie Dmin Burton. 56' Bourke, the Beautiful By, Aynbelln Southwonh. 5r wrchéut Mercy .' By nanny '1', Campbell. ' 58 “The V I 'By 55 Tbs Diamond Legacy. By Mrs. Bar Sam Claxmn. 4. ' 59 Agnes Ilope, the Acflieaa; or,’ the Romance at a I f uby Ring.» By Wm. Mason l‘u_r u, M. D. A 31m v " . 13 Rachel Bernhardt. r ‘ensnnof. ry fire centsper 06W. or I‘ (fleadie and Adams; Publisher’s; v 30398.- Ham greet, New York. ,‘ valzxxllrvww \54 Plddgod to'Man-y; qr, [In Laws": Bqnds. By ,3: ; or, Ills Second Lon. x» ' net’s Secret; or, The mm Hair-sum}. 7 ‘ ‘