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Cnpyrighted, 1885,13; BKADLK AND ADAMS. Entured n the Punt mm M. New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mull Mum-n Muy 1‘), ISFJ.

 

 

a Year- No.98 William Street, New York. Five Cer'ns.

"\V 1‘
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  32.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLYBY BEADLE AND ADAMS, price  

 

 

 

‘ I

“in BRACELET HAS COME UNFASTENED; CAN YOU FIX IT FOR ME?“ SAID ARMANDE, EXTENDING
mm Arm T0 DE LESPARRE.

LED  fastidious taste, backed by a. very heavy purse,
- could devise, and if it was ever the lot: of mortal
__ man to be happy, Rodolph Chandoce should
B Y 0071A VE FEWLLET RaniVfigifignngnseogfot‘geee men who could truly say:
CHAPTER I_ mHig funiin 1consisted 0% gnois setcondtyvvgfe,rAr;

7 an e, a ove y woman 0 _ me wen - on 0
THE HOME 0? WEA'LTP' five years, who loved him despite the slights her
_ RODOLPI; CHAIfDOCE lived Withma. few hours’ more mature husband put upon her in favor of
ride of Paris. H15 home was all that the most his club, his hounds, his horses! or a new face,]

 

 

 

    

LED ASTRAY.

 

The latter especially, if it chanced to belong to
some young, fascinating woman, ever excr-
cised the greatest influence over Chandoce, and
he invariably forgot that his wife, who should
lhave claimed the greatest portion of his time,
was left alone to while away the weary hours
of her husband’s absence, in any way that pre-
sented itself.

Armando was a devoted wife; but, unfortu-
nately [or herself, her whole lite had become
tinged with a morbid sentimcmnli'y prwmc. d
by a certain class of reading, whicn ner lonely
life had caused her to peruse (or consolation
and amusement.

Mathilde, Chandoce’s daughter by his first
wife, was just budding into womanhood, and
looked upon her step-mother more in the light
of a. sister or dear friend, rather than a. mother.

A merry, light-hearted girl she was, consult-
ing only her own pleasure in accordance with
the teachings she had received; but possessing a
heart as pure and loving as could be desired.

Of Rodolph Chandece himself, we will at-
tempt no description, leaving the reader to
form his or her own idea. But of the other
two inmates of the ChandOce home, we must
say a few words. The first, and in her own
opinion, the most important, is the countess,
Rodolph’s mother, A woman considerably past
the prime of life, and believing that her son’s
home is her home, and that her son’s wife has
no rights which she, as her son s mother, has
any reason to respect. The countess was one
of the most strongly mnrkcd types of amother-
in-law, and one well calculated to make any
woman’s life unhappy.

Armande’s mother, who, in her own right,
bore the title of baroness, was also a member
of this strangely assorted household group.
When we say that the buroness was Arinnnde’s
mother, we do not by any means imply that
Madame Chandoce was blessed withn mother’s
tender, wntohful /care. Quite the contrary;
her burden~be it in fact or imaginary—~was
very palpably increased by the presence of her
mother.

Having thus particularly introduced the in-
mates of the chatcnu to the reader, we will open
our story at the risk of being tedious, with a dc-

\

/scription of one who occupies a very promi-

nent part in this romance.

Hector Placide was one of those good-natur-
ed fellows whose noble hearts are often hidden
by'a. trifling, careless manner, but whose real
worth is sure to become apparent in hours of
trial and sorrow. He was rather below the
medium height, fair complexion, and with
a face almost girlish in its outline, and, in order
to make him more interesting, we will say
that he was deeply and ardently in love with
Mathilde. -

It was to indulge in dreams of love, and er.

lmps to build a few castles in the air, that ea-

itor Hauntcrcd out upon the lawn which auf.
i rounded the chateau.

He was amused from his rose-colored reverie
into which he had fallen by the sound of rug-
 tling garments, and, looking up, saw, not M3,.
3 thilde, as he had expected, but her step-mother,
’ who was walking slowly along, and so deeply

occupiwl with n. book which she held in he):

ll'lil ls, in; to be unconscious of Hector’s prox.

i llJllly. ’

I “ Reading a novel as usual," muttered Heo.
tor to himself. “ There must be something
delightful in feeling the misfortunes of /some
one ohm, or newspapers would not be so full of
disasters, and novals so full of interesting
crime. She actually sheds tears over imagin-

lary woes, asif she had no real ones of her

I own.”

This soliloquy was interrupted by aliarmless
sort of a fop, who rejoiced in the happy nan
, of Mount Gosline, and who, like Hector, was a
1 guest of Rodolle Clinndocc.

As Gosline approached and noticed who it
was that Hector Wm; regarding so earnestly, he
1 laughed in a silly, lmlf—n-strawberry sort of a.
' laugh, and said, as he hipped Hector upon the
i shoulder:

“ She's a. splendid creature, ch '1’"

“ 0h, baron, is that you ?” exclaimed Hec-
tor, noticing Gosline for the first time. “I
beg your pardon. What did you say ?"

“I said that she was a splendid creature.
‘ How are you getting on in that quarter ?"

“I don‘t understand you,” replied Hector,

, thoroughlymystified as to his friends moaning.

“ In order that we may both be frank,” said

1' the baron, in a. tone which was intended to be

1 both patronizing and friendly, “ let me ask

1 you what your position is in this chateau?” /

some as yours. I, like you, have been invited
' to spend a few 6 eye in this chateau." ‘

“ Where I have fallen in love with the wife
and daughter of my host,” interrupted the
baron, with a. leer that was intended to betoken
confidence and happiness. '

“ Both at once, baron '2” asked Hector, not

 

a little surprised at this wholesale love making. '

“Yes, both at once. They are equally lovely;
8. bud and a flower upon one stalk.”
seemed to the baron to be a very brilliant idea;

 

smile illumincd his countenance, and with a,
‘ Self-satisfied cir, he exclaimed : “What a sweet
idea thntwnsl What u happy thought! 1’11
2 book that," and true to- his habit of writin
down anything he had said that he thought
‘ articulurly good, the bnron made a note 'of
'9 little idea, and then asked : “ Are you not
related to the count in some way i” '

Aw... _s..~. v   :.::

A ~‘-

“ What my position is P why it is exactly the » ~ '

This '

for no sooner had he uttered it than a happy '

 

'4
.r

x.

 

 

  

" His wife is my cousin.”
“Did you know his first wife, Mathilde’s
mother?”

“Very well indeed. I was in the habit of
spending my vacations here. Mademoiselle
Chandoce and I were play-fellows."

“ Ah, yes, I see, " replied the baron, with
the cutting sarcasm of a man of the world that
can never be answered. “I can now under~
stand the familiar indiil‘erence with which she

treats you. She seems to look on you as one
of the family; in fact, a sort of nobody in par-
ticular.” ~

“Perhaps so,” replied Hector, determined
not to let Gosline see how hard his random
shot had hit.

“ Did you ever try it on with her ?"

“Try what on ?” asked Hector beginning
to lose his temper.

“Why, make love to the counts daughter
on the sly.”

“I should as soon think of pooketing his
spoons," replied Hector, indignantly.

“Yes—yes ; 1 see. You are in love with
his wife,” said the baron, in a confident tone.

“Baron,” replied Hector, with dignity,
‘ ‘ your life has been passed on the race-course,
and in the gambling saloons of Hamburg and
Baden, and you have formed your ideas from
the society you met there ; there are honest,
true people in the
Countess Chandoce is one of them.”

His speech, well calculated to convince any-
one, so far from persuading the baron of the
truth of his companion’s remarks, caused him
to hold his own opinion still more strongly,
and he answered in a jeering tone:

“I suppose that Miss O’Hara is another
honest, true woman ?” _

"‘ Miss O’Hara! Who is she ?" asked Hoe-
tor, not a. little puzzled at his companion’s re-
mark.

“ The girl we met at the ball, last week,
who wore her hair so high and the back of her
dress so low : you must have seen her.”

“Yes, Isaw a good deal of her," replied
Hector, with a shade of sarcasm in his voice.

“ Eh ?” asked Gosline, for the moment not
understanding the point of Hector’s remark
and then as it dawned upon him, he gave ut-
terance to his sickly laugh, and with the store-
otyped remark of: “ Happy thought; I’ll book
it,” wrote the joke down for future reference.

"‘ She is a noted horsewoman,” continued
Gosline. “ The count, our host, says he
never saw a girl so much at home in the Saddle."

“ Yes, she’s just the kind of a woman to capti-
vate Rodolp .”

“She excels'in all; she shoots, hunts and

rows like a man. She’s a perfect Diana I”
_ “ In all but the chastity,” added Hector.

LED ASTRAY.

world, and the young‘

 

‘ “ Happy thought! I‘ll repeat that when I
can find a chance, and 111—”
“ Don’t book it,” interrupted Hector. “for
I it is as worthless as the woman who provoked it."
‘, “Be careful of what you say, for she is
coming here."
i “ To this house?" asked Placide, in perfect
= amazement.

“ Certainly. Why not ?" She is received
everywhere in that locomotive society that
stretches from Spa to Naples. There is no re-
cord against her but the contents of her jewel-
ease,” replied Gesline, in his inimitable, impu-
dent way.

“ Here comes the old countess,” said Hector,
not answering his companion’s remark, as he
caught a glimpse of Chandoce’s mother from
amidst the shrubbery.

“ Let me get out of the way!" exclaimed

Gosline, in real alarm, as he looked about for
some avenue of escape. “ She caught me
this morning in the still-room, watching pretty
little Sophie count the linen. I was just going
to kiss her, when she cried out: ‘ Oh, Lord l—-
the countess!’ I turned, and there in the door-
way stood the old grillin herself, looking like—-
the devil l”
i This comparison was not exactly what Gos-
; line would have said, but was called forth by
lhis turning his head slightly and seein the
subject of his conversation standing a most
directly behind him. With a look at Placide
that was comical in the lust degree, Gosline
disappeared in the shrubbery.

 

\

 

CHAPTER II.

FORTUNATELY for Gosline, the countess was
conversing with Lafontaine, an old servant,
who had served Armande's parents for many
years, and she did not hear the very uncom-
plimentary remark which had been made.

Hector could not refuse a smile at the very
undiguificd retreat made by his companion, but
he instantly repressed it as he heard the old
lady say:

“My good man, I am sorry for you; your
daughter’s conduct is not becoming my son’s
1 house, and cannot be tolerated."

“ She is my only child, madame," replied the
, old man in a perfectly respectful but cntreating
1 voice. “ This is her first service and her first
lfault—if indeed it be one. Should you send
‘ her away without a character—” ‘

“»I never break my word,” replied the count
655, in a tone intended to bring the conversation
to a close. “I then said that the girl shall go,

 

and go she must.”

Without another word of reply, the old ser-
vant turned and walked sadly away. His only
child, and she motherless, was to be dismissed
from service, without a character and without

  

,,

\

LED ASTRAY.

  

 

.money, and why? Because lone of the count’s .
guests, struck with the girl’s beauty, had con-
ceived the idea. of kissing her against her will,
and in attempting to carry his insolent purpose
into execution, the countess had seen him.

“Ah, Hector!" exclaimed the countess, as
she saw Placide, " have you seen my daughter~i
in-law ?”

“I think she is taking her favorite walk by
the lake yonder,” replied the young man, point- "
ing in the same direction as that taken by Ar.
mande.

“She is probablylying in a. romantic atti—
tude, filling her mind with novels and trash, l
instead of attending to her household duties,”
replied the old lady, with a world of hate and
scorn in her voice. “ It is the fault of her 1
mother, the baroness, frivolous old creature! =
Oh! here she comes. She announces herself I
by the screech of her skirts. I am sorry she f
has no friend to tell her that this love of finery ‘
is ccntemptible in a person of her age.” 1

As she had said, the Baroness de la Rivon- ‘
niere was approaching, and the countenances of
the two ladies as they beheld each other was, to
say the least, very amusing. Both had an in-
ordinate love of dress, andpach tried to outvie
the other in dis lay.

As the two la ies confronted each other with
bows and smiles, Hector stepped forward with ~
a chair, which he offered, and both were on‘
the point of accepting it, when suddenly _no- ‘
ticing the motions of the other, they drew 1
their fussy little bodies up to their full height, ,
and motioned each other to take the proffered
seat.

“ Madame, pray be seated,” entreated the
baroness, with a stately bow, and a wave of
the hand toward the chair.

“You forget I am in my own house,
madame," replied the countess, with great asv
sumption of dignity; “ you must allow me to
play the hostess.”

By this time Hector had brought another
chair, so that the vexed question was settled,
and the two ladies settled their flounces and
rufllesinto the seats in such aspiteful manner,
that Hector plainly foresaw a ladylike quarrel.

The countess opened the ball by saying :

“I hope you passed a good night, madame?"

“ The wind “made an awful noise in the
rookery,” replied the baroness, determined to
find fault with something, and thus keep the
ball in motion.

a “ Unfortunately, we cannot control the ele-
ments in the country,” was the sarcastic re-
joinder.

“ Ah 1" exclaimed the haroness, as if plunged
into sudden ecstasy by her thoughts, " we can
in Paris. I dislike the country, ” and here the

aristocratic nose turned perceptibly upwards ;
“ it is so dismal ; nothing but trees and grass, .

 

 

, such a chance for a shot.

and things. Not a shop, not a street anywhere,
and if one is dying, no doctor.”

“ I live here all the year round; I am never
ill,” answered the countess, in a tone of calm
su eriority.

ot a very shrewd general was the old count-
ess, or she would never have left the enemy
The baroness saw
her opportunity, and she followed it up with a
home thrust. -

“ Thoroughbred and sensitive natures like
mine cannot endure what yours appears to
thrive upon.”

This volley of bitter-sweets was becoming
almost too furious for Hector, and in the hope
of averting the impending storm, he said to
the baroness :

“ But the sea, madame—you like the sea-
side ?"

“I like the society one finds there, but I
hate the sea. When I go on the beach, I al-
most turn my back to it, it is so dreadful mo-
notonous. Always the same sands and the same
waves come in and go out without any cause.
No one knows why."

“Are you ignorant, madame, that the moon
causes the tide '1’” hastily interrupted the

countess, happy at being able to show a' little

of her superior wisdom. ,

“ I neither know, madame, nor care, "replied
the enraged old lady; “ but I know that it
makes me nervous to watch it. I like the
country or the sea-side for a change—a month
or two in the season; but if the count means

to settle down here all the year round—oh, V

well,” and the sigh which followed the exclam.
ation seemed to be drawn from the very bot-
tom of the old lady’s heart. “I pity my poor
child; don’t you, Hector ?”

“Very much, baroness,” replied Placide,‘

determined to venture no opposite opinion.
“My son, madame, is a noble of the old
race,” exclaimed the countess, in as much of a
rage as she thought was allowable in one of
her position in society; “his home is in his

feudal castle; his tastes are those of his an-fl w

cestors—field sports and manly occupations.
Such a life is more becoming than such an
existence as you spend in town, breaking down
six pairs of carriage-horses and three coach-
men per diem, in racing from concert to din-
ner, from dinner to opera, and from opera to
ball. Don’t you think so, Hector '1’” ' \

True to his resolve to coincide with the
views of both the ladies, and forgetting for the
moment the answer he had made to the ques-
tion of the baroness, Hector answered:

“ You are right, countess.”

“But you professed the opposite opinion i

just now,” exclaimed Madame de la Rivonniere.
“ I never contradict a lady," replied Hector,

 

 

  

 

 

;.

Z
'l
"f

' thilda, turning to the haroness, and then, hardly

, ed face.

 

LED ASTRAY. u

with alow bow that was intended to be concili- one uses when sure that their request' will be

story.
“ But how do you feel ?” insisted the baron-

‘ess. » , l
“ Do you wish me to speak candidly?" asked , "' Go on I”

Placide, finding that he was expected to give a i
decided opinion. 1

“ Certainly l” replied the baroness, with a‘
haughty toss of her head which plainly said :
“ Of course you will agree with me.”

A twinkle of satisfaction came into Hector’s
eyes as he said :

“ I feel like the bottle of oil in a cruet-stand l
—between the vinegar and the pepper. "

With exclamations of anger, the two ladies ‘
started from their chairs as if stung by a. ser-
pent, and turned to leave the garden.

CHAPTER III.

THE entrance of Mathilde interrupted what
might have proved to be a very unpleasant
scene, at least, forHcctor.

“ Oh, cousin Hector 1" she exclaimed, as she
almost ran towards the young man, while a
slight frown contracted her fair brow, and a
dainty little pout made her mouth look even
more kissable than nature intended it should.
“ Where have you been ‘9 How can you be so
provoking as to be out of the way when I want
you ?"

“Orin the way when you don’t," retorted
the young man, laughingly, as he gazed with a
lover’s eyes upon the object of his adoration.
' “ Ah 1 good-day, grandma l” and like the
humming bird as it coquettishly flits from
flower to thorn, the young lady turned towards
fihe bottle of vinegar, as Hector had pictured

er. .

The countess’ face was lighted up by a placid
smile as she responded to this greeting with a
patronizing bow, and as gentle a “ Good-day,
my child,” as one could expect from the sharp-
cut, sternly formed mouth.

“ Good-day, my other grandma I” said Ms-

 

waiting for the responsive “Bless you, darling!”
she flitted again to Hector‘s side, and with an
arch little smile upon her rosy lips, she said,
coaxineg :

“ Cousin, you are in a very, very obliging
mood ?”

“ Very i" said Hector, dryly. “ So much
so, in fact, that your grandmothers reproached
me with it."

“ Well, in that case you can do me a ser-
vice"

. “ I thought so ; it is a commision,” saidHec-
tor, looking down pleasantly upon the upturn-

" It is,” replied Mathilde, decidedly, and at
the same time’ in a half-pleading tone, such as

XV; P I ‘-

 

Ixi' ,

l wishes anticipated.

complied with.
to the town.”
“ Eleven miles,” added Hector. witha laugh.

“ I want you just to ride over

“ To my modz'ste " .

“ And ask her why she did not send home
your new riding-hat she promised yesterday,
and then bring it back with me.”

“ Oh, you must be a conjurcr l” exclaimed
the young girl, delighted at thus having her

 

“ I overheard you complaining last night to
Annande.”

“ What long ears you have got.”

“ I fear so,” said Hector, with a grimace, as
he tried to stretch out the guilty members.

“ I thought you were engaged in playing
whist.”

“ No. I was engaged in listening ,to you,
therefore I lest the gmue.”

“ You are an angel,” Mathilde declared, as
she gave him one of her sweetest smiles, and
shot at him a glance with just enough love. in
it to make, as she knew it would, the young
man her willing slave. “ But you must be 011'
quickly, and you will be back by the time
breakfast is over. So, run along—there’s a
dear,” and Mathilde’s tiny hand was laid upon
his shoulder, as if to aid in his departure.

“ Pardon me if I hazard the remark—absurd
at such a monient~but when am I supposed
to breakfast ?” asked Hector, with arbow of
mockhomage and deprecation.

“ Poor Hector 1” was the laughing, and in-
tended to be commiserating exclamation, “ I’ll
run and find you something cold before you

0-"

“ If you will be so obliging," said the baron.
ess, who had been an amused listener to the
conversation, to Hector, “ you must take the
consequences.”

“ I have such a deliciousriding habit made,”
said Mathilde, in a half explanatory way, “ but
it will be nothing without the hat, . and papa
will be so proud of me when I ride beside him
to-day in the hunting field, and I shall be so
proud of him.” v -

At this praise of her son, the countess looked
the gratitude she felt, and was about to make
some reply, when Mathilde added, as a. sudden
thought flitted across her mind :

“Ah, cousin! please bring with you some,
blue feathers, pale blue, as I'm rather afraid
of the white,” and then turning to the old lady,
she said. “ Como, grandmother, I want to
show you my habit.” ' ‘

Hector watched her with lover's eyes, as she
walked away with each hand on the arm of one
of her grand-parents, and if he hoped that she
would address some remark to him before she

 

     

LED ASTRAY. / / /

 

went, he was not disappointed, for turning,
she cried:

“You won‘t forget the blue feathers ?" /

“No—no!” answered Hector, with just a
shade of disappointment apparent in his voice.
And it did not escape Mathilde‘s ear, for she
added the sweetness to the bitter by saying :

“You are the most adorable of men! I don’t
know how I could possibly live without you,"

Hector Placido walked away with anything
but enviable feelings, and had be spoken them
they would have been very much like this:

“ She says she could not live without me;
she makes similar remarks every hour; tor-
tures me with her affectionate indifference,
and I have been mad enough to fall in love
with that chilc .”

He had,not taken many steps before he saw
Armande, who was seated in tho shrubbcry
with a book in her hand, and listening to
something which the old servant, Latontaine,
was saying.

Hector was just in time to hear the young
countess say:

“ Do not distress yourself, Lafontaine!
Sophie shall not be dismissed. I will take her
into my personal service.”

Ordinarily, Hector would not have been
guilty of the crime of listening; but as he had
heard of Sophie’s dismissal by the old countess
with sorrow, so was he anxious to know that
the threatened grievous wrong was not to be
done.

With every sign of gratitude upon his honest
face, Lafontaine left his young mistress’ pres-
ence with a. much lighter heart than when he
had entered it.

As the servant left her, and Armando
thought she was once more alone, she read a.
few more lines in the book, and then closed it,
laid her head in her hand as she said aloud :

“ Poor Clara l Poor, lonely, deserted wife !
How true this description is, and yet the book
was written by a man.”

Then, taking up the book once more, she
looked at the title page and read : “Astray; a
novel in three columcs, by Graeme dc Lcspm're."

“ George de Lesparre, you and I are kindred
souls!” Armande exclaimed, and opening the
book again, commenced reading, while Hector
. stole softly away, muttering to himself:

“ If she knew George de Lesparre as well as
I do, she would deny the kindred. The count
is to blame. He treats his young and ardent
wife with indifference, allowingher imagination
to run riot. I’ll speak to him on the subject.”

CHAPTER IV.

' Huron Pmomn had not far to go in order
H to find Count Chandoce. Full of hisdetermin-

t

 

‘ he continued:
I I shall ride the chestnut.”

 

ation to speak to the count in regard to his
wife, Hector proceeded in the direction of the
stables, where, as he rightly supposed, he
should find Chandoce.

As Hector approached, the count was giving
some orders to his liuntsman.

“ Let the dogs be ready at the Willow Farm
by eleven,” he was saying. “ We shall try the
Beeches first, and then drive up the wind to-
wards—" and as he saw Placide’s good-na-
tured face, he accosted him with: “ Ah 1 Hec-
tor, my boy, good-morning."

“ Rudolph," said Placide, earnestly, “Iwant
to say a word to you on a serious matter."

“ Proceed; I am all attention,”repliedC an-
doce ; and then showing just how much at en-

' tion he was giving to his guest, he said to the

huntsman : “ Send Robert to me, I will give
him directions;" and again turningto Hector
“ Now, what is the—tell him
This last command
was to thehuntsman again, and a frown, that
he could not repress, came upon Placide’s
usually pleasant face.

But as if all unconscious that he was doing
anything else than attending to what his guest
had to say, Rodolph continued :

“ So it is a serious mater; What is it i”

“ You are not in a serious mood,” replied
Hector, gravely.

With a hearty laugh, Rodolph threw himself
upon a seat, as he exclaimed:

“ There i now I am at anchor, go on i”

“ Rodolph, old fellow," and'Hector’s voice
was almost trembling with emotion, “ you
know how sincerely I am attached to you and
yours '1’”

“ I know all that, Hector.”

“ It is this feeling alone which prompts me
to speak.” ’

“ Hello I” exclaimed Chandoce, in some sur-
prise. “ What sort of game is going to start
from the bush after all this beating X”

“ llave you decided on retiring from Paris,
and shutting yourself upfor the rest of your
life in the country ?”

“ Quite decided,” replied Chandoce. “ Na.-
ture has given me formal notice to leave that
charming metroplis, where for sixteen yearst
was the Romeo of private life. Last winter
my barber discovered a. certain scarcity of
thatch on my scalp, and a few gray hairs in my -
beard. It was time to give up the juvenile
business before I was cast for the old man,
and as that was a line I was not respectable
enough to undertake, I resolved to retire from

the stage of society, and here ' I am.”

“ You will never settle down———-”

“ Into fat and agriculture?” interrupted Ro-
dolph, laughing. “Yes, I shall. I’ll raise
cattle, breed horses, become a. magistrate and a
substantial personage." ‘ \

 

" she swims in tears and delight.

" LED ASTRAY. ‘l

 

“ And how about your wife ?” asked Hector,
with no little anxiety in his tones.

“My wife —Arniande? Oh, she is one of
those kind—"

The count was interrupted in his description
of his wife by the entrance of Robert, who had
been sent for by the huntsman, and, as if his
sport was of infinitely more importance than
the woman who had married him, he ceased
speaking of her, and said to'ltobert:

“ ltobert, I wish One of the boys to take the
bay filly into the twenty-acre field, and ride
some of the nonsense out of her before my
daughter tries her this morning. She is rather
hot and fidgety.”

“Mademoiselle rides well," Robert ventured
to say.

“Too well. She will get into trouble. And
Robert, send a spare horse for me to the Beau-
vais crossroads—the gray will do.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Robert, as he
moved away.

“Let me see,” said the count, tapping his ,

forehead as if to recall himself to the subject of
conversation previous to his remark to ltobert ;
“what were we talking about? These dogs and
horses have quite put it out of my head.”

. “ That’s it, precisely l” exclaimed Hector,
impatiently. “ Three years ago you married a
young and lovely girl. Aftera month or two
you returned to your old haunts, your old com-
panions, your club, your bettingbook, cards,
dissipation, put your wife out of your head——
you had sworn to love and cherish holy—and
you forgot what you had promised. Then you
came down here, and now your horses and dogs
take her place in your life."

“And so I am to go back to Paris because
she will be miserable in the country,” said
the count, impatiently. “Don’t be deceived;
she will be ' miserable anywhere. Her com-

‘ plaint is not of me, nor of anyone, nor of cir-

cumstances—-it is her vocation to be wretched;
she was born so.”

“But, my dear friend— ”

“ I love her,” interrupted the count, quick-
ly. “I don’t repent my choice. She has all
{319 "charms and perfections you ascribe to

er. ,

“Whatisher fault, then?” asked Hector,
with some surprise. .

" She is a woman, and every woman has a
ruling caprice—some characterizing weak-
ness.” And the count’s tone was very like
what he would have used in talking of his
horses, and his dogs, although, had he been
speaking of them there Would have been more
solicitude visible. “Her pretension is to be
consideredwretched. Tobe thoroughly mis-

"arable is her greatest happiness; if she can.

arouse sympathy and excite commiscration,
She has been,

She is. and always will be, an object of coin—

passion. All the blessings under Heaven are
disregarded by her. She is young, lovely,
rich, in good health. She has a good-temper-

i ed fellow for a husband. I’m not a bad sort,
am I? No. Am I mean, false, disagreeable
in mind, manners, or person? No.
ever denied hera single wish? Not one. Then
what does she want? If she will be wretched,
what can I do '3 My home was just as cloudy
in Paris as it is here. I brought the rain with
me, so I must sit down under it, grin and bear
it, eh? Of course. Then, that’s settled. I’m
oil." _

And as if the matter was ended, the count

[started towards the stables; but Hector had.
; no idea of closing the conversation at this
‘ point.
‘ “ Stop 1” he exclaimed, catching Chandoce
‘ by the arm. “ You settle everything by put-
ting questions and answering them yourself.
Yes, you are one of those men who think that
by giving a woman a dozen rings, a box at the
opera for the season, a carriage and pair, and
unlimited credit with her dressmaker you fulfil
all her reasonable desires and tastes. Have
‘ you ever oflered her a dozen hours of yourday,
aplacc for the evening by your side? .And
have you opened unlimited credit with your
heart ‘3"

“ This is all romantic nonsense," replied the
count, with a slight show of anger. “ I was
good enough for my first wife—Mathilde’s
mother-wGod bless her 1”

“ My dear Rodolph, your first wife was a
lamb, and spoiled you. Your first wife played
husband, saw all your faults, forgave them
with the sweetness of an angel and forgot
them until she was on her deathbed."

“ Oh, Hector l" replied the count, with
emotion, “ she did not reproach me then.
You stood beside me as she held my hands."

“ Yes,” was Heetor’s decided answer, “ and
looking into your face, she said, ‘ My poor
ltodolph, what will become of you when I am
gone?’ The gentle creature foresaw her suc-
cessor, and the danger your infidelities would
provoke.”

“ Danger l” cried the count, almost in alarm.
“ What do you mean?”

“ Any other woman,” and now Hector’s

mean one who had loved you less devotedly,
might go astray ; but Armando will pine and
wither under this estrangement.”

“ Nonsense!" and despite the expression 01
contempt which Chandch used, his, hearer
knew that he was for the moment touched.

“ In fact,” continued Hector, “ she is in-

nevertheless. " .
I “ All to excite sympathy—to elicit compas-
smu."

 

Have I ‘

voice attested to the truth of what he said—” I ,

ing. You don’t see it, but the fact remains,

"-\

 

 

I LED ASTRAY.

 

" “ Her health is failing; she is drooping,"

l
which he had seen, before he spoke, was dis-

continued Hector, determined to put the matter tasteful.

m as plain a light as possible.

.“ Pooh 1 nothing of the kind," sneered the
count. “ Nobody notices a change.”

“ I assure you she is great] altered,” said
Hector earnestly. “ Everybo y notices the
change—” I

He ceased speaking. because at this moment,
Armaude herself appeared from the shubbery.

CHAPTER V.

' As Armando approached the two gentlemen,
her husband looked at her earnestly, as it trying
to discover some signs of the failing health
that Hector had spoken of.

“ Are you not quite well, my dear ?" asked
Bodolph, as he went carelessly towards his
wife, and asked the question in a tone which
showed plainly that he had made the inquiry
more for the sake of convincing his compan-
ion than for his own information.

“ Me 1’” asked Armande, in some surprise
at this very unusual solicitude. "' Oh, yes; I
am quite well.”

" Are you quite sure? have you no weak-
ness—no complaint?”

“ None whatever,” replied Armando, as she
walked a short distance away as if to escape
his questioning.

The count, who was quite satisfied as to
what the answer would be before he asked the
question, turned away to attend to some more

’ important business than that of his wife’s
hgalth, and as he passed Hector, he whisper-
e 3 \

“What did I tell you? there is nothing the

matter ;" and touching his forehead significant-
ly, he added: “A crack in the china, bees in
her bonnet—that’s all.”

And then he went to the stables to see his
sick dogs, whose slightest symptoms of illness
did not fail to catch his eye, leaving his wife to
the companionship of a young, good-looking
and sympathizing gentleman, whose devotion
could not fai1.of being appreciated.

“‘I know what you have been saying about
me to Rodolph as well as if I had heard you,”
Armande said to Placide after a few moments
of silence. “ I am grateful for your sympathy,

for I get very little compassion save from you. ” 1

Could Hector have prevented it, he would
have had her leave those words unsaid.

“I am resigned to,my fate,” continued Ar-
mando. “ My husband is everythin that is
charming. Everybody says so, and 0 course
it must be true. I am envied by my sex.
There, we have said enough about it, so don’t
speak of it again.’ ' I

“Whom have we to breakfast this morning '1’”

“Really, I do not know,” was the careless
answer. “I am but a cipher down here. The
countess, Rodolph’s mother, is mistress, and I
am only a guest in the house. But I believe I
did hear who was coming. There's Major
‘ O’Hara and his sisters, and two or three horsey

men, I suppose.”

“ Do you know why I asked t"

“ No. ’

“Because I await in terror the arrival of
your hero,” said Hector.

“ My hero ‘2" asked Armando, in surprise.

“The one introduced to you by all such

books as that," replied Hector, pointing to the5

book which Armando held in her hand. “The
i pensive, wild-haired, pale and inspired scoun-
. drel, who is only saved from being a convict
i because he is a gentleman—by poetical license."
, “ Well, what do you fear from him '1’" asked
Armande, quietly.

“ I fear that he will fill the void in your im-
agination.”

“ Do you think I am waiting on the verge of
an abyss ?"

“ I do I” and Hector’s tone attested the sin-
cerity of what he said.

“ How delightful !" replied Armande, much
in the same tone that a child might speak after
receiving anew toy. “But, my dear cousin,
if my heart is so empty and so hungry, why
don’t I fill it with you i"

“ With me ?” and now it was Hector’s turn
to be surprised.

“ Why not '1’" ‘

“ Look at me,” replied Hector, earnestly.

“ My exterior answers you. I can not address
to a stranger the simplest question, but a smile
breaks over his face before he can reply. I '
excite derision ; I know it. Every woman
smiles upon me; butif I were to misunder.
stand her good nature so far as to make love, -
she would never think I was in earnest.
Nature played a practical joke when she made
me; for, inside, I am full of sentiment and rc-
mance; my dreams are full of heroic devotion,
tenderness and passion. I have the soul of a
Romeo, with the face of a comic singer. The
moment I enter a room, all the mothers make
a confidant of me; allthe girls give me their
, little commissions to execute, or their bouquets
to hold while they dance witn somebody else.
It has happened to me, in a crowded ball-room,
a lovely creature has stopped me to hold up
my chin while\she tied the knot of my cravat
,and settled me generally—morally as well as
physically. I’m doomed to be misunderstood;
lrpy face” is a scoundrel who belies me. It be-

es—

Almost unconsciously, Hector had shown to

 

asked Hector, trying to turn the conversation,
. ,

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|
LED ASTRAY. 9

in his side, and his passion at what he consid. Mathilde reflected for a moment, and then,
ered his wretched “ make—up ” was suddenly ] hesitating a little as if her mind was not exactly .
interrupted as he saw Mathilde approaching made up, said:
from the direction of the chateau. 1 “ Well, I think the baron is the most amus.
Armando could not resist the inclination to ing. He rides well, and his clothes are so
laugh; but she said, after her merriment had nicely cut."
subsided a little: I “ You have observed the fit of his boot and
“ You do your face an injustice, Hector. It i the cut of his coat, but have you regarded the
betrays, but it does not belie you. You love cut of his heart and the fit of his character ?"
Mathilde l" asked the countess, reproachfully. “ Oh,
“ Hush l" whispered Hector. “She will hear Mathilde, a crowd of women are always to be
you!" found gathered around a shop window by the
“ Oh, cousinl you have returned very soon. attraction of some fashionable dresses. Those
How very good of you 1" said Mathilde, as she who are tempted to buy one, find, after a few
went towards Hector, after bidding her mother days' wear, that it comes to pieces; it was made
good-morning- up for show and for sale. Such are most of
“ I have not started, yet," replied Hector, :3 the men we admire in the shop-windows of so-
little awkwardly, as he thought of how remiss ‘ ciety. They are not home-made, my dear;

 

he had been in not starting the moment she had there is no wear in thorn.”
signified her desire to have him do so.

“Not started 1” exclaimed Mathilde, in mock
anger. “ Oh, you horror!”

“ I’m of now,” said Hector, starting quickly
away. “ I only wished to admire your new
habit.”

“ You shall admire that, and me, and every-
thing, as long as you like when you get back."

“You shall have the hat in time, do not
fear!" cried Hector, from the distance.

. “Blue feather I” screamed Mathilde after

in.

“ What a good fellow he is i" said the count-
ess, reflectively.

“Splendid,” assented Mathilde, carelessly.
“ How do you like my habit ?”

“Charming,” replied Armande, thinking
more of the youngman than of the dress Ma-
thilde was desirous of calling her attention to.

“A tailor cuts a sleeve so much better than
a dressmaker,” continued the young girl. exam:

r inin carefully the habit.

“ at a devoted husband he would make,"
said Armande, not hearing Mathilde’s last re-
mark.

“I wish he had squeezed my waist a little
more, I could have borne it very well," contin-

, ued Mathilde, thinking only of the dress, and

whether it fitted perfectly or not.

“ What!" exclaimed Armando, starting up
in surprise at Mathilde’s words ; and then re-
membering that the young girl had been speak-
ing of her dress and its maker rather than of
Hector Placide, she said with a smile : “For-
get the tailor, my dear, and tell me do these
graces. these charms. produce no effect on the
many cavaliers in the hunting-field ?”

“ Oh, yes," replied Mathilde, indifi‘erently ;
” they all say kind things, you know, but it
sounds as if they had learned them at school. "

“ Is there no one whom you are particularly
interestedin ?” asked Armando, with an anxious
tone in her voice. \

. ,

As she spoke, Armando clasped Mathilde in‘
1 her arms as if she would shield her from the
‘ troubles and sorrows which everyone must
bear without regard to their social or pecuniary
position. ‘

“ I am content to take the world as it is," re-
plied Mathilde, in a manner which showed that
she was perfectly satisfied with herself and all
around her. “ If my husband comes to pieces,
I should set about putting him together again,
and improve the occasion to make him fit me.
But, my dear mother, you want a world as per-
fect as yourself. You live in a dream land, be.
cause you are romantic." 

At this innocent remark Armando started to
her feet in anger.

"Who told you that ?" she asked, sharply.
“ Who said so ?”

Mathilde was disconcerted. She hardly
knew what to say, and in. her‘ confusion she
said almost the worst thing she could have
said under the circumstances.

“ Oh! I forget, everybody.”

“ Your father told you that,” said Armando,
as she walked away in sorrow as well as anger.
Sorrow that Mathilde should have repeated the
] words to her, and anger that her husband
should openly speak of her faults to 111' v

‘ daughter; and as she walked swiftly away to

some lace where she might be alone with her
grief, pshe repeated to herself: “Rodolph
turns me into contempt, and she has learned
the lesson.”

 

CHAPTER VI.

Hum anhour after the events which we
have narrated in our last chapter occurred, the
garden was deserted by all save old Lafon,
taine, the gardener, who was busying himself
among the shrubbery.

,While he was thus engaged a stranger—-
young man of some twenty-nine or thirty
years of age—appeared at the gate, and seeing

c

 

 

x “in t

Os

 

1.0 . V LED ASTRAY.

 

the gardener, approachedhim with the remark g/L Placide came up, having just returned from

“I hope I am not intruding on these premix
ses. Finding the park-gate open, and no one
in the lodge, I ventured in to admire the
grounds. Who lives here ?”

\, The Count Rodolph Chandoce," replied the
servant, respectfully.

/ “I know the count by name. He has a charm-
ing place."

“ The count is pleased that strangers should
visit the park. The private gardens alone are
reserved.”

“ Then I will rest hero a moment," replied
the stranger, seating himself at the table which
had been occupied by Armando, while the old
servant walked away lest he should annoy the
visitor by his labors.

“What a delightful and dignified repose
these ancient trees spread over this spot,” said
the young man, communing with himself.
“ Ages of wealth and cultivated taste have
combined to make this paradise. I should like
to see the nymphs that inhabit these sacred
groves.”

As he spoke, he looked around as if he hoped
to see some one ; but instead of being HODIO
beautiful person, his eye rested upon Arniandc’s
embroidery and book, which lay W here she
had left them.

“A coronet and two letters. A. 0.,” he said,
as he raised the cambric that he might inspect
it more closely. “ 0 stands for Chandoce ; A
for Amelie or, perhaps, Athalic,” audho pressed
the handkerchief to his lips in a rupture of ec-
stasy at the vision of loveliness his fancy had

conjured up. ,

“ Here is a book with a marker in it,” he
said, as he took up the book. “ I wonder
where her thoughts have been wandering
lately,” and as he opened it, he exclaimed :
“ ‘ Astray,’ My book—my w01'k! She has
been reading mel See where she has marked
the passages ! Ah I what delightful commun-
ion between our souls 1 Yes ; here she under-
lines half a page—a page of soaring rapture;
and here a sentiment, double-scored, and noted
in the margin, ‘ exquisite 1’ Ah l that one
word is still more so. This girl is romantic.
She confesses her heart to me.”

Almost overcome by his vanity, he stood for
several moments gazing earnestly at the book
which Armande had marked, and then, as a sud-
den‘thought seized him, he wrote with his pen-
cil across the, page :

" I have another life Ilong to meet,
Without which life my lilo is incomplete ;
0h,sweeter self! like me, art than astray 1'
Trying with all thy heart to find the way
To mine '1’ Straying, like mine, to find the breast
- On which alone can 'weury heart find rest '1"
' He had just completed the writing, and was
_ suidying the efiect of the words, when Hector

 

the errand on which Mathilde had sent him.

As the young man saw Hector, he greeted
him by name, at the same time laying the book
upon the table in such a manner that Placidc
did not see it. -

If the stranger was surprised at seeing
Hector walk up, it was no less a surprise to
Hector: for as he saw who it was that was

thus an occupant of the table, he uttered an ex- ‘

claination of anger, as he said :

“ George dc Lesparro—the devil l”

“ Are you a guest here 'I" asked Lesparre.

“ No—yes,” answered Hector, hesitatingly,
and then, thinking only of the mischief he fear-
ed the other’s presence might cause, he added:
“ I thought you were in Syria.”

“ I have just returned from the Eat."

“‘ Cured, I hope, of your romance?” said
Hector, half inquiringly.

“ No, I am still in search of the impossible
womauathe ideal of my imagination—the
queen of my soul. I have made a tour of the
world without finding a woman’s heart worthy
of mine,” and the romantic fool gave vent to a
sigh, that to Hector‘s ears sounded more like
the dismal and ill-boding croak of a raven,
than an utterance born of disappointed love.

“ Keep right on, my dear fellow," said
Hector, quickly, thinking he saw an opportu-
nity of ridding himself of an unwelcome guest»
“ You will find nothing here, and it is only a
waste of time, I assure you. You have not
tried to find your ideal in. Sweden, have you 'P"

“ No,” replied the poet, mournfully.

“ Then that’s the place I" exclaimed Plucide,
triumphantly; “you will be sure to find her
there; but if you do not, try Lapland; that
will take you a year or two.”

This did not exactly meet George’s views,
for he answered enthusiastically, as he glanced
at the book upon the table :

“There are no women like our 'own. ’Tis
here I am destined to find a sympathetic soul
—oue who could share my poetic aspirations."

,Hcctor’s exulaination of dismay at this rhap-
sody was genuine, and he immediately tried
another plan to get him away from the chateau
before ‘he should see Armando.

“Let us take a walk back to the village,”
he said. “ Where are you stopping?” ,

“ I am waiting for the afternoon train," re-
plied Lesparre. “My luggage is at the sta-
tion." *

“I am delighted to hear it,“ exclaimed
Hector, without trying to disguise the elation
he felt at this announcement of early depar-
ture. “ Come with me and I’ll show you
around the distant parts of the estate.” ,

“You are stopping at the house," said

George, reluctantly following Hector, “land I
should like to know the family.” '

 

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LED ASTRAY.

"No, you wouldn’t, ” said Hector, eagerly ;
“ they are ‘stuck-up ’ people, I assure you.
You would not like them at all.”

“What sort of a person is tho count’s wife?”
asked Lesparre, eagerly.

This was a poser to Hector: but with the
View of keeping these two romantic people
apart, he resolved to tell a down—right he as
well and unblnshingly as possible.

“Well, she is a kind of a —a woman—mid-
tile-aged."

“ Middle-aged ?” queried the author, in ev-
ident disappointment.

“ When I say that, you must remember that,
nowadays, it is very diflicult to judge," said
Hector, wishing to modify his remark as much
as possible.

“ I have seen women of thirty—or even old-
er-—who were capable of inspiring the most r0-
mautic passions,” said George, still thinking’of
the marginal notes he had seen in his book. j

Hector was again dismayed. The departure
of his friend did not seem so near as it did a
few moments previous.

“ Let me judge for myself," persisted Les-
parrc. “ Come, Hector, I have particular rea-
sons for desiring to know the young Countess
Chandooe."

Hector was in despair. What should he do
or say ?

He) was upon the point of allowing matters to
work best they might, when heaven seemed
to interfere by showing him a very cflcctual
way out of all the trouble.

As Abraham “ lifted up his eyes and saw
the ram caught by the horns in the thicket,”
so did Hector see a very present help in time
of trouble in the shape of the old countess,
who was bustling around in the hope of finding
some of the servants in fault. *

“ The old woman! Kind heaven, I thank
thee l” exclaimed Hector, fervently, and then
turning to Lesparrc, he said: “ Well, 01d fel-
low, if you insist on knowing the lady, here

I she is.”

At that moment the old countess stood be-

_ fore them, and the look of George de Lesparrc’s

face was comical in the extreme, His fancy
had painted a young and beautiful woman; his
friend’s words had caused him to believe that
she was just in the prime of life, and as he be-
held a very old lady, with nothing that was
lovable or beautiful about her, his spirits fell
to their lowest notch. Could his thoughts have
been read just at that time, they would have
shown an exclamation something like this :

“ Heaven and earth! have I written a love
legend to that '1’"

" Madame," said Hector, who had now rc-
covered all his good nature, and was happy at

the idea of the~ gigantic joke he had upon the

 

u‘

love-sick author, “ my friend, M. George do
Lnsparre, desires to he presented to you, the
Countess Uhandooe."

“ I hope your friend will give us the pleasure
of his company to-day,” said the countess, in
her high and lofty manner.

“ Athousand thanks, countess—but, unfor.
tunately, the train,” hesitated George, now as
anxious to get away as he had been to remain.

“ You are not going to run away so soon,
are you ?” asked Hector, with an amused
smile.

The romantic author paid no attention to
the remark ; but with a look, almost of an-
guish on his face, he whispered to his smiling
friend :

“ Do you call that middle-aged ? Why, she
dates from William the Conqueror."

“ Is not that the middle ages ?” asked Hector.

Lesparre bowed low to the countess, and
walked slowly away, thinking what a fool he
had made of himself. \

“ What a charming young man i” exclaimed
the countess, as George walked away.

Delightful i" assented Hector, with one of
his inimitable shoulder-shrugs. “ I never knew
him to be so agreeable before."

“ He went away very suddenly.”

“ Yes.” said Hector, trying to keep a sober
face upon the matter; “ he’s very retiring—-

. that’s his nature—timid to a painful degree. I

wanted him to stay.”

At this moment Armando drew near, and
Hector taking advantage of her coming, went
to find Mathilde, in order to give her the but
he had gotten for her.

Armando seated herself by the table listlessly,
and took up the book 61161le been reading;
but the moment she opened it her whole ap-

‘ pearanco changed.

 

She saw the lines which had been written
there by Lesparre.

 

CHAPTER VII.
" I have another life I long to meet,
Without which lilo my life is incomplete.
Oh, sweeter self i like me. art thou astray ? ‘
Trying with all thy heart to find the way
To mine ? Straying, like mine, to find the breast
On which alone can weary heart find rest r"

THESE were the words which George . as K
Lesparre had written and Armando had read.
Dangerous Words indeed were they for a young,
wife to read whose husband did not display for .
her such evidences of affection as she had every
right to expect. . .
for her to treasure up in her mind, and think
of during the lonely hours she passed while her
husband was neglecting her for his horses and
dogs.

After reading them, her first thought was of

the writer. and she made every efiofl: to Mom  ~

Dangerous words were they I

   
 
 
 
 

, “he...

Vs

12 LED .ASTRAY.

tain who had been in the garden during her
very short absence.

Calling LafOntaine to her, she asked :

“‘ Has there been any stranger here this
morning ?” ‘

“ Yes, madame," replied the servant; “ a
gentleman was here a moment ago.”

“ What was he like '1’"

“ A tall, dark, handsome young man—” I

“That will do,” said his mistress, checking
his garrulity, while a flush of mingled indigna-
tion and wonder passed OVer her face. Indig-
nation, that anyone should have dared to write
such words to her, and wonder, as to whom
the person might be.

The noisy arrival of Major O’Hara and his
sister interrupted her thoughts from the dan-

‘ gerous channel into which they were straying,
and she wentto the chateau to welcome the
coming guests.

A few words about Suzanne and Major
O’Hara. They represented themselves as
brother and sister; she, a tall, almost regal-
looking beauty, very foolishly affected a very
young and diflident manner, which contrasted
very poorly with her commanding presence.
The major afiecteda horsey style. His shirt-
studs, sleeve-buttons and watch-chain, each rep-
resented some of the trappings of the horse,
and his whole appearance shed a sort of stable
air, as plainly perceptible, and with as little re-
gard for fitness as a horse sheds his coat. Yet

orses were not as.much an object of adoration
to Major O’Hara as he would have had it be-
lieved. A quiet game of cards with an op-
ponent who had plenty of money and very lit-
tle brains, was really the heightof this frank,
confiding major’s happiness.

Rodolph Chandoce had met Suzanne O’Hara
at Paris, and, as usual with men, had fallen in
love with her because she flattered him. An
invitation to spend a few weeks at his chateau
was Chandoce’s plan ‘for seeing his charmer
without arousing his wife’s suspicions, and thus
the O’Haras became inmates of the Chandoce
chateau.

But country life suited the diffident and
childish Suzanne as little as it did the frank,
confiding major, and at the expiration of two
weeks, they not only announcod, but actually
tooktheir departure ; and, the hunting season
being nearly over, Rudolph had only his wife,
daughter, mother, and mother-in-law from
which to choose'his company. Even Hector
had left them. He had found that his love was
gaining the ascendancy over him, and foresee-
ing arebufi, had started for a six months' so-
jqurn in Switzerland, in order that he might
forget, or at least, succeed in thinking calmly
of Mathilde as the wife of another.

Of course to a man like Rodolph Chandoce,

1

 

 

one thing was the natural result of this seclu-

l

sion. He determined to go to Paris. There he
would be enabled to see Suzanne—and she,
poor, difiident girl, knew that he would follow
her—then he could visit his old acquaintances,
and live over again his younger life. But never
once did he think that his wife, almost deserted
by her own husband, would be exposed to any
temptation. He must go in order to make life
bearable; hi wife must be content wherever
he chose to ake her.

In Paris, as may be supposed, Armando met
the celebrated author, Mr. George de Lesparre,
very frequently, and at last he was invited by
Rodolph to dine. '

At the expiration of six months the author

was a daily visitor at the Chandoce Hotel, and /

already had Armando suifered herself to think
of him much oftener than she ought.

Suzanne O’Hara was also numbered among
“ the dear five hundred,” and if Armando was
not as cordial towards her as she might have
been, Rodolph’s warmth more than supplied
the deficiency. ,

A ball was to be given at the, embassy, to
which Armande had refused to go, and shn was
seated in her drawing-room with the novel of

“Astray” in her hands, while her thoughts'

were upon the lines which had been written in
it by some unknown hand, and the author of
the book, when her mother entered.

“ Poor Mathilde was dying to go to the ball,”
said the baroness, as she arranged the folds of
her train before the pier—glass. “ It is so
good of you to confide her to me. What does
that curmudgeon, your mother-in-law, say '1’"

“ Oh, she growls, of course,” replied Ar-
mando, indifferently.

“And your husband?” the baroness’ lip
curled with positive scorn as she spoke of R0-
dolph.

“ He cares nothing one way or the other, so
long as he is not bothered.” This with a half
sigh which spoke of .changed feelings on the
part of her who had been a wife only a few

ears.

“Where is he ?” persisted the baroness.

" At his club, I presume,” and the tone bee

tokened indifl’erence.

‘ Pleasant for you.”

H very-7’

“Sweet institution, a club 1”
was fast losing her temper. “ In the country,
the men devote themselves to the hunting field.
In the city, the club swallows them up What
do they suppose we are doing all that time ’1’"

“ I am happy—at least, I suppose I ought to
be; it is my fault if I expected more.”

“Why don’t you shake of this blue mood?
Emerge into the world of pleasure. Don’t
mope at home. Imitate your husband. Go
out; enjoy yourself." .

“I can’t." replied Armando. wearily. ,“I’vo

The beroness ’

._ ... . Ln...“ . nml~um  ‘

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n. . .. ....-...,....‘_...,. e. N”

.M mam“, ...._~ 

 

‘wr‘v

 

‘ had so little interest in his whereabouts.

. questioner.

. She presented herself and her ball-room finery

mistaken, fer, as Mathilde turned and saw the

 

LED ASTRA'Y. V 13

 

tried, and I can’t. It all seems so hollow, sot
contemptible. My life must be devoted to one

being, one object. I must pass it on my knees ;
before my idol, without a thought but of him. ,
The horizon of the future must be within his 1
arms, and my only light derived from his love." ,

I l Fora moment the baroness looked at her

daughter in perfect amazement, and then with I
a gesture of impatience, she said: 

“What a dreadful bore you must be to aE
man who thought to wed a commonplace wo-
man, and discovers he has married the Sphinx.”

What the answer would have been it is im.
possible to say, for at this moment the servant
announced Mr. Hector Placide.

“ The truant has come back I" exclaimed Ar-
mande, gleefully, as she arose to welcome Hec-
tor, and held out both her hands to him as she
would have done to a brother—and he was as
dear to her as one. “How glad I am to see
you I"

Hector responded to her fervent greeting,
and then turned to the baroness, as she said:
“ You passed the last six months in Italy ?"
In Switzerland, " said Hector, betraying ever
so much astonishment that they should have

‘ Six months—all the winter l” exclaimed
the barouess, in much the same tone as if sh
had not before noticed that the young man had
been absent from the city. Were you not
dreadfully weary of the place ?"

“ Yes,” was Hector’s dry reply. “ I was at
an establishment where they practised the
cold water cure.”

“ What was your complaint ?" and the ques-
tion was asked with that well-bred inrlifl’erence
as to the answer which is so well affected by
many persons that it becomes almost an insult.

“ Heart disease,” said Hector, promptly,
without apparently noticing the tone of the

The entrance of Mathilde at the moment in-
terrupted the conversation.

Hector gazed 0n the vision of loveliness
which thus suddenly appeared before him, as if
the young girl had been a visitor from some
other sphere.

But Mathilde very quickly showed that she
Was of the earth “earthy,” for going up to
her stepmother, without having seen Hector,

for Arman'de’s approval.
\ “ You do not see 'Hector," said the young
countess, as she greeted Mathilde with a kiss.
Hector advanced asif expecting something
approaching a warm reception; but he was

 

light of expectation in Hector’s eyes, she said
in a tone which might have been used had she
parted with the young man only the night
previous :

"How do you do, cousin? How have you
been this age '1’”

“ Thank you," replied Hector, who could not
repress the disappointment which he felt, “ in-.
definite people like myself are always about the
same.”

“I am so glad you have come back," and
now Mathilde displayed just a trifle of feeling.
“When you are not near me it seems as if

‘ something had gone wrong.”

Hector’s spirits arose at once, and he started
eagerly forward as he asked:

“ Then you did—”

But Mathilde’s manner changed as suddenly
as does the sun on an April morning, and Hec-
tor stopped, stammered, and finished the sen-
tence with:

“Miss me a little ?”

“Awfully—you can’t think!" laughed the
young girl. “Well, how did you like Swe-
den ?”

“Sweden 1” echoed Hector, astonished and
pained that she too should have had so little
interest in his whereabouts. “ HOW did I like
—but I was in Switzerland l” ~ ‘

“I thought you were in Sweden," she rc—
plied, carelessly, then turning to her mother
she said:

“Well, good-night, mamma;" and, as if to
give a little animation to poor Hector’s hopes,
she said to him : ‘

“ Good-night, Cousin Hector. Oh! don't
forget tomorrow morning. I have a. commis-
sion.”

“I shall resume my old functions," said
Hector, in despair, as Mathilde, accompanied
by the baroness, left the room.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

“Inorn you intend to. spend the evening
here ?" said Armande to Hector when they Were
alone.

“I must show myself at the embassy for a
few moments.” .

“ And then you will return ?" And Ar-
mande’s tone was one of sincerity.

“ Yes,” replied Hector, without hesitation.
“How is Rodolph '3” V

“ Oh, God-like and supreme! He overlooks
me,” replied the young wife, in a tone which
betrayed, far more than words could have done,‘
how deeply her husband’s indifference had
wounded her; and then, as if to change the
subject, she added:

“ How do you get on?" - '

“ I thought that absence and change 01 scene

 

 

it

had thrown cold water enough on my feelings;
but now I am not sure,” replied Hector, dis-
consolately. “ I‘ve a good mind to go back
again and try another douche."

LED ASTRAY.

which she brought to Placidc, with the ques-
tion:

“Is that it ?"

Hector at once recognized the writing; but

“ Nonsense 1" Enid Armande; kindl)’; ” Stay at the same time he was firmly resolved to lie

with us.”

“In the middle of the infection ?” asked
Hector, with a comical air of dismay, and then
abruptly:

“What’s new since I left ?"

"Nothing," replied Armando, as if trying to
appear unconcerned, and then, as if a sudden
thought hadflashed upon her, she added:

“Yes, I forgot—yes, we have discovered
such a charming person, and one of your
friends, too.”

Hector started in astonishment. He knew
as well as if some one had told him the name
of the friend she refered to, but yet he asked :

“ Who is it ?”

“Mr. George de Lesparre."

“ How did you form his acquaintance?"

“ I had remarked at the opera and in the
park a gentleman who seemed to find him-
self constantly in my path, fixing his eyes
on me in so remarkable but respectful manner
that—-—".

“ Exactly,” said Hector, dryly, as he inter-
rupted her; “ so one day, Rodolph, who had
met him somewhere, brought him here.” '
' ’ “Precisely,” replied Armando, not a little
astonished at Hector’s penetration.

“How obliging l" and new there was posi-
tive sarcasm in Placide’s voree.

“ What ?” asked Armande, wondering at this
new phase in the usually pleasant and cheerful
Hector.

“I say how obliging to make thing pleasant
for my friend ;” and now the countess knew

why he spoke as he did.

‘ “ Is he so dangerous 9. personage ?” she ask-
ed, in astonishment.

“Very, for you.”

“ Why for me more than another ?”

“ Becmse—— " then suddenly stopping as
if to consider, he added wearily, as if determin-
ed no Ionger to struggle against the fatality
which seemed to hover around those two: “No
matter—to point out such a danger to a wo-
man is to (add another charm to temptation.”

“Do you know if he visited our neighbor-
hood in the country 'while we were there 1’"
asked Armande, without heading or showing
that she heeded the warning contained in the
young man’s words.

“ No; did he say so ?" replied Hector, hasti-
ly and ea erly. .

“No: at I had a. strange correspondent,
who—but stay; you know his handwriting?"

“ Perfectly.”

'Armande went to a table in one corner of the

i _ room. and took from it the novel “ Astrey," ‘ remain with you all the evening, it would be so \

about it, and do it well; therefore. he answer-
ed firmly:
i “No, it is not a bit like it.”
“I dreamed it was," said Armando, dream-
iI .
y“Has he made love to you ?" asked Hector
in alarm.
:5 No. 7!
" But he will ?” persisted the young man,
' earnestly.
{ “If he does I will tell you," laughed Ar.
; mande, as she turned at the entrance of old La-
‘ fontaine, who announced:

“ Miss Suzanne O’Hara."

Hector at one arose to go, and succeeded in
reaching the door without encountering this
Irish coquette whom he cordially disliked.

"' I could not pass the door without call-
ing," said Miss O’Hara, affectionately, to Ar-
mando, as she imprinted what might have
been a Judas’ kiss upon her-cheek.

“ Are you not going to the Spanish Embassy
to-night r" she asked of Armando.

“ No,” was the rather cool answer, “ I 1‘3wa
go out now ; but you will find the baroness and
Mathilde there.” .

“ I shall go to the opera first.”

“ What do they give to-night ?”

“ ‘Crispino.’ I have never heard it.”

For a moment the conversation lagged, and
luzanne toyed with a bouquet which she held
in her hand. .

“ What a charming bouquet you have there,"
said Armande, noticing it for the first time.

“Let me ofier it to you," said Miss O’Hara,

I
l

would have said.

“My dear Suzanne," said Armando, smiling,
“you never call without bringing me the most
exquisite bouquet; you are as attentive as a
lover would be.”

“ I leave it there to take my place,” insisted
Suzanne, as she placed the flowers upon the
mantel. And as if her mission was now accom-
plished, she added :
my brother is outside on the box of my broug-
ham, and it’s snowing.”

passionately.
riage ?"

 

; O’Hara, laughing; “but there is only room for
_ me and my skirts, so. I ,put the major on the
,1 box. Good-night, love. I do so wish I could

eagerly—almost too eagerly a careful observer ,

“Now I must be 011’, for ‘ ,

“ Outside, poor fellow !” said Armando, com- '
“Who is with you in the car-4 3

“No one,” answered the sprightly Miss ,

 
 

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cram“ Mm.“ hawk A__ A ,.

  

SQ GEN

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(M""u _ - -

nice; butI can’t. Good—night ;" and throwing
a. kiss from the tips of her delicately-perfumed
gloves, Miss O’Hara was gone, and before the

door had closed Lafontaine announced another

visitor as:

“ The Baron de Mount Gosline I"

The baron entered with all the attendant
glory of clothes of the latest fashion, curled
mustache and perfumed ringlets. The inevita-
ble glasses were at his eyes, and in his hand he
carried a bouquet which was the perfection of
the florist’s art.

It was with the air of one who is extremely

I bored that Armande greeted him, and with a

polite lie .said:

“How good of you to take pity on my soli-
tude."

“ Ah, countess!" said the baron, overjoyed
at the greeting which he had received, “I
brought you these flowers—” and at the same
time that he presented them to her he noticed
the ones which were on the mantel, and he
stopped abruptly in his presentation speech to
say: “Now that is too bad! Rodolph has
taken a most unfair advantage of me.”

“ In what manner ?” asked Armando, consid-

erably surprised at his words.

“ When I was ordering this bouquet, he en-
tered the florist’s and bought that,” explained
Mgpnt Gosline, as he pointed at Suzanne’s
flo ers.

“ This ?” said Armando, taking the bouquet
from the mantel, “ you are mistaken.”

“I am positive I am right," said the baron,
after carefully examining the bouquet.

Armande turned to place the flowers where
she had taken them from, and an expression of
anguish oversprcad her fair face as she did so.

“ Rudolph sends bouquets to Miss O’Hara,
and she comes here to present them to me.
What can, it mean?" she murmured. And
then, with a great effort to restrain her emo-
tion, she turned to the baron, and said, in a
tone which was intended to be a merry one :

“You are growing quite gallant, baron. This
is the third visit you have paid me this week.
Are you going to the embassy to-night F”

. r“ No, madame."

“ To your club, I suppose ?”

“ No, madame,” replied MountGosline, in
the “ dying-duck” style; “ I pass my time
chiefly at home.” ,

“ At home i” responded Armando, in mock

'surprise, “ I did not think young men had any.

What on earth do you do at home '1’”

“ I read Byron and Lamartine,” said the fop
in an affected tone, as he placed a chair near
Armando, and seated himself.

“ You astdnish me I" laughed the countess,
amused at his manner. '

. “My life has undergone a change,” con-

 

LED ASTRAY. ~ 1;

tinned the baron. “ I have lost the gayety of
youth. I live apart from the world, and 8011-
tudc is my only companion. The frivolous
eonVcrsation of the clubs wearies me. I find

_ no one with whom I can sympathize—no one

who can indulge with me in melancholy."

“ But you have not relinquished the races.
I saw your name attached to some horse that
lest." '

This was the baron’s weak point, and he for-
got for the moment what he had been saying,
and immediately began in an excited manner
to discuss the matter, leaving his love-making
to follow the events of the turf.

“ I lost the Emperor’s cup by half a nose,"
he said. “ That old O’Hara squared my
boy to pull the mare.” Seeing an amused look
in Armande’s face just at the moment,
he recollected himself instantly, and went back
to his love-making, with:

“ Not that the Emperor’s cup could contain
a solace for my woe. I'm too far gone."

“ You excite my curiosity," said Armando ; l

“ what has caused this metamorphosis ‘8”
“ Very true,” assented the would-be disconso-
late lover.” ‘ ‘ I'm a perfect transformation scene

reversed. I have gone from light to darkness." 7

This idea, which was original, was, to his
mind, such a happy one, that he could not r69
frain from repeating it. “ I have gone from
light to darkness. 'l‘o borrow the language of
Shakespeare, ‘The light of other days has
faded;’ and in my gloom there is only one star
—my own, my guiding star I Will that bright
orb ever, descend from heaven, and shed its
beams on me '1’ Will it ? Will it ?"

“ How should I know?” replied Armando,
perfectly unconcerned.

Neither she nor the baron were aware of the
entrance of the old countess, Who had entered
quietly, and remained standing near the door.

“ You alone can know that star’s feelings,"
continued Mount Gosline, as he half slipped,
half twisted himself from his chair, and sank
on his knees before Armande, all the time con-
tinuing his impassioned appeal in a voice which
he considered touching in the last .degree.
“ You alone can speak the music of the spheres.
Here on my kneeslet me await your flat.”

He certainly had notlong to wait, for at that
moment he caught a glimpse of the old count-
ess, who was approaching him with surprise
and anger depicted on every line of her features.

With ‘ a muttered exclamation of, “ The
devil.” he commenced industriously to search
about the floor as if seeking something, and
after a moment of most embarraseing silence,
he said:

“ I can't see it anywhere.

I don‘t think you
could have dropped it.” L ’

 

  
 

w... .4 A 3“ ‘ “A

‘ «M'b- W,

Aw, ._,

16

 

LED ASTRAY.

 

“ Have you lost anything, Armando '1’” asked
the countess, in a severe tone.

“ The baron thinks I have,” replied Armando, ‘

in a tone which conveyed to the discomfitted
Mount Gosline’s ear a stern reproof for his
worse than folly: “but he is mistaken.
Pray do not trouble yourself further, baron;
you will. never succeed, I assure you.”

der that she might better conceal her agitation.

“ His constant presence in this house must
have some object; and perhaps you are not
aware that he visited our ark six months ago.
It was the Very morning 6 O‘Haras paid us
their first visit."

“ George de Lesparre was there I" cried Ar-
mando, in great excitement, while her face

“ What was it?" asked the countess, sharply ‘ which was alternately paling and flushing

" A jewel, madame, out of my guard-ring."

With some efi‘ort, and a very red face,
Mount Gosline arose to his feet, presenting a.
decidedly sheepish appearance.

“ Stooping has made you quite red in the
face, Baron,” said Armando.

“ Yes," hesitated the embarrassed man '
“ quite so. Stooping makes me giddy."

“ No, baron,” said Armando, in a low, firm
tone which could not be mistaken ; “ giddiness
makes you stoop. You understand me ?”

“ I—I—think so," and as the baton backed
out of the room very much like a cur which
had been whipped, he said : “ Ladies, I fear I
have intruded too long. Good-evening.”

 

CHAPTER IX.

Fox a few moments after the gushing baron
had taken his very undignifled departure not
a word was spoken by either of the ladies.

The old countess broke the silence by the
question :

“ What is the attraction that young man dis-
covers in this house? There is only one im-
married female here. ”

Armande could not resist the opportunity for
retort, and she answered:

“ Two—yourself and Mathilde."

The old lady did not chose to measure lances
with her somewhat sarcastic daughter-in-law,

_ and she therefore paid no attention to the re-

mark ; but contented herself in saying, in her
most vinegary tone :

“ If his pretentious point to Mathilde, Ihave
other views for her, and so has her father. "

“ Indeed 1 And may I ask on whom you
have bestowed Mathilde's afiections '1’”

“ The gentleman who aspires to an alliance
with my family," and here the old lady drew
herself upto her full hei ht, “ is now with
Rodolph his study— r. George do Les-
parre.” ,

“De Lesparre l” exclaimed Armando, start-
ing from the chair in astonishment.

“ For some months past, I have observed his
admiration for Mathilde," continued the old
woman, complacently.

“ Indeed I” said Armande, who felt that
some answer was necessary, and who had risen

from her chair, and was pacing the room inor-

I
«

 

 

would have told the story, had the old woman!
not been so firmly convinced that her own ver-
sion of the afiair was the correct one.

“ I found him with Hector in the park," re-
plied the countess, looking curiously at her
daughter-in-law.

“ No I” replied Armande, shortly.

“I can see all that is going on," continued
the old woman, [with a tone of pride at her own
discernment.

“ Perhaps you mistake your wishes for those
of M. de Lesparre," suggested Armando.

“ I'm no fool, my dear,” and although the
words were sweet, the voice was not. ‘

“ Clever people are never fooled except by
themselves I" replied Armando, bitterly, and
then nothing was said until old Lafontaine en-
tered with a message.

“ Mr. George de Lesparre wishes to know if
the Countess Armando will receive him '1’” .-

“ At this hour '3” exclaimed Armande, in
surprise and agitation.

“ The count sent me to inquire,” said the
servant, apologetically.

“ Oblige me, Armande," said the countess,
in her hard, metallic voice which always sent a
shiver of dread over her daughter-in—law. “I
am sure he comes to propose for Mathilde."

“ Very well," and -Armande’s voice was
faint and almost’irresolute; “say that I shall
be pleased to receive him." i

As Lafontaine left the room, the old count-
ess arose from her seat, and standing before
Armande, said:

" Now, Amanda, I will leave you ; but if
you find the gentleman timid, give him every
encouragement to declare himself. Meet him
half way, and understand me, it is flur- hus-
band’s ardent wish. Need I say more '1’”

The old Countess of ‘ Chandoce left the
room, and Armande was alone with the thought

that she was to meet this man alone, by the'

desire of her husband and his mother, that

she was to listen patiently to all he had to say .

to her. .
{(115 George de Lesparre entered the room, he
so: : A ,

“I fear my visit is somewhat indiscreet at

this hour; but the count promised to join me
here. We have an engagement this evening at
the club."

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LED ASTRAY.

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i7

 

“ What attraction has a club for such a mind i

as yours ?” asked Armando, as she looked ad-
mirineg at him.

“Very little, I confess," was the answer,
and then to prevent, she knew not what, Ar-
mando started the conversation in a diflerent
channel, by saying :

“I see that you are about to publish a vol-
ume of poems.”

“ I have taken the liberty of bringing you a
copy. Will you accept it ?” and he handed
her a daintin bound volume.

She took it with a slight inclination of the
head, and opened it at the fly-leaf. On it was
ertten: I

“To the Countess Armando Chandoce, with
the homage of the author. "

he she opened the book, George moved away
as if to allow her to pass her judgment upon
his work before he ventured to address her,
and as he did so, he saw the volume of his
novel lying on the table. It was the same one
inwhich he had written the lines, and acting
upon the impuISe, he pressed it to his lips.
At that moment, Armando turned her head,
and by the aid of the mirror, saw De Lesparre
press the volume ardently to his lips. Startled

y this evidence of affection, although she, had
believed it to exist, Armande trembled so vio-
lently that the book slipped from her nerveless
fingers and fell to the floor. '

Turning, De Lesparre could not but under-
stand the meaning of it, and the almost unin—
telligible excuse did not mend matters any.
He resolved to declare his passion for this
woman, although she was the wife of another,
and that other his friend.

 

CHAPTER 5:.

Greener. Dr: Lsspumn was not the kind of a
man who would hesitate to make love to an-
other’s wife, and when the husband whom he
would wrong was his friend, that fact added
spice to the act.

He prefaced his proposal with the remark:

“ I have taken advantage of this occasion to
make a parting visit. I leave Paris in a few
days.”

“ Indeed I” exclaimed Armando, with a start
of surprise which she vainly tried to suppress.
“ But you return shortly ?”

“ I shall be absent some years," he replied,
as he watched her every movement earnestly.
" I go to Japan.”

“ We heard—that is, it is rumored that you
intended to settle down 'in Paris,” said Ar-

' mande, in a voice that trembled visibly, and
. she turned away from him that he might not

see the Increasing pallor of her face. “ We

/

. x. if, Wily, 3:5 4

“ You hoped that ?” asked George, in a re-
proachful tone, as he stepped close beside her.

“ I mean, of course—I could not have any
personal interest—” and now Armande’s con-
5 fusion was very apparent to the man who was
1 closely observing her. “We shall regret to
i lose you.”

“ I shall never marry,” and the look he gave
her would have warned an other woman to
have changed the conversation ; but Armando
asked just the question Do Lesparro expected
she would.

“ Why not ?"

“ May I tell you '1’” and he leaned forward
like some serpent who would fascinate his prey
before striking.

Amanda hesitated, and of course the old
adage proved true.

She answered, “ Yes ; if the reason is one I
can persuade you to abandon."

Nearer and nearer did the false friend, and
still more false lover approach, until she could
feel his heated breath upon her brow, and then
he said, with a rapid but distinct utterance :

“ If there existed somewhere in the world——-
say in India, Mexico, Spain—I have traveled
far-if there was a woman whose life and soul

as if she was born with me, and I must die
when she expires—a woman from whom I hope
nothing, ask nothing, whom I have vowed in
silence to love forever, and from whom I shall
now part, sacrificing all—friends, home and
country—to live at the farthest corner of the
world with her image. If such a passion filled
a heart that knows no change and no deceit, I
ask you, madame, if I should be acting like a
man of honor to offer that heart to another 3"

Arman'de could only answer:

6‘ o.

“ 1V0,” repeated‘De Lesparre after her in a
decided tone, and then, as he took his hat from
the table, he added: “ You have pronounced
judgment. It is for me to execute it. Fare-
well.”

Armande started from her seat quickly, and
stood before the young man, now firmly con-
vinced of his truth and gpodness. .

“ A few moments ago,” she said, “ a young
man was there at my feet, on his knees. He

did not choose to understand him, much less to
reply to him. But I shall not pretend to mis-
understand you, because I bplieve you to be an
honorable man who say what you sincerely feel,
and do what you say. You are of good famil ,
with a high and noble career before you. 0
not sacrifice that and desert your destiny be-
cause you have dreamed a dream. Do not let

 

me reproach myself with having involuntarily
a fatal influence on the life of a man whom ‘

\

said, in other words, what you have uttered. I'

[I

are so much mingled with mine that it seems.....m

   

 

  

I

.18 , —

LED ASTRAY.

 

wish to respect, if he, will permit me. Forget
this foolish resolution to abscond, and let me
forget anything you have said which exceeded
,what the friend of my husband should utter,
and his wife should hear. Will you '3”

“ Madame " interrupted George, in a
voice far different from that in which he had
been speaking, for Armande’s words were not
just what he had expected to hear.

But the young wife would not allow him to
evade her question, as she knew he was about
to do.

“ Tell me that you have enough esteem for
me and confidence in yourself to appear, when
you next call on me, as a friend; if so, I shall
be lad to see you—if not —”

She hesitated, and De Lesparre inquirineg
repeated her last words:

“ If not ?"

For a single moment she remainedsilent, and
then said, as she extended her hand:

“ Farewell 1”

George took the hand which she ofiered him,
and bending low over it, pressed the impassion-
ed kisses thick and fast upon it.

To Armande’s mind the interview was over,
but this man of the world had no such idea. He
had only opened the game, and he believed he
had scored the first point.

He was about to return to the assault when
he received a sudden check by the entrance of
Hector, who had just returned from the em-
bassy. He tried to appear unconcerned, and
hidehis vexation, as he exclaimed in a forced
and unnatural voice:

“ Hector I returned to Paris, .eh? I hope
you enjoyed your trip ?”

“ Very much,” replied Hector, curtly, as he
glanced angrily at the speaker.

“ You are looking well,” continued George.

“Quite well,” this time so curt that it almost
amounted to rudeness, and De Lesparre bowed
himself out as quickly as possible.

Hector waited a moment as if expecting Ar-
mande to speak; but as she did not, he asked:

“ Well, did,he——”

_ “ Yes,” replied Armando, vbefore he could
finish the sentence.

“ I told you so,” and Hector’s voice had a
ring of triumph in it that his predictions should
have been fulfilled so correctly; “ and you,

 

 

what did you reply ?”
‘f 1-1 don't know,” replied Armande, half
cry

mg. .

“ Don’t you ?” and now the usually good-na- ‘

tured Hector was enraged. “ If you don’t, I
H

2‘ You know what I said to him ?" asked Ar-
mando, in surprise.
“ I can imagine every d—d stupid ward.”

l
l

“ Hector!" This in a tone of reproach from
Annande.

“ You reasoned with him on the folly of his
passion," sneer-ed Hector. “ You called it a

, dream ; you told him he had a noble mission in

the world ; you assured him he would forget
you ; you offered him your friendship and beg-
ged him to call again."

“He declined to accept such a position, and
he is going to leave France,” sobbed Armande.

“ Pooh I” sneered Hector.

“ He is going to J npun."

“ Pooh 1 He will wait until he has made up
your mind. "

“ Made up my mind i’” asked Armande, in
surprise. I

“ To go with him,” said Hector, plainly.

“ Good heavens! Hector, are you mad ‘1’"
cried the countess, insurprise, and some an-
ger.

“ No,” replied Hector, growing more calm,
and speaking with the conviction of a man who
knows of what he is talking, “ but you will be
shortly. I know you will, Armande. You
are not one of those women who can descend
to duplicity ; you will not watch for a conve-
nient moment to escape from your home, cov-
ering your face with a double veil, and return
calmly to play an ignoble comedy. No ; you
will take but one step from the highest to the
lowest. There will be honesty in your fall,
and courage in your shame.”

“ Hector, you insult me 1” cried Armando,
indignantly.

“ I don’t care, if I save you," was the de-
termined reply. I

Just then Armando heard her husband’s step
in the ante-room, and she had time to utter a
word of warning before he entered.

“ Ah, Hector!” exclaimed Rodolph. “How
goes it, old fellow ? When did you return to
the world i’”

“This morning,” replied Hector, ashe shook l

the count warmly by the hand.

“ I am glad to see you back, ” and Rodolph’s
words were sincere. Then looking around the
room as if in search of some one, he asked:
“ Where’s De Lesparre P”

“ I frightened him away," said Hector, in
rather a constrained manner, which caused
Rodolph to gaze curiously at him for a moment
and then to turn the conversation by saying : .

“ So you have turned up once more.
what have you been doing with yourself down
below there in Switzerland? Corrupting the
arcadian inhabitants, eh ? Come, confess you
have carried olf some shepherdess of the Alps.”

“ You are as bad as ever, Rodolph,” said
Hector. _ ‘
in the world—pleasure is your only pursuit? .

  

“ You think there is nothing serious \

   

 

w... u-M&m am; a, ._

 

r
a»

 

 

wwl-F'

us\ 

..:~, as,

w.” «m. .ews‘ ‘

l». .

A an...

“’13.:

..»,..:...>.,  .,

 

_, 9:»...‘t‘ v

 

.hk.

_ “And notabad profession either, if you
only succeed at it,” laughed the count.

“Do you never reflect that a time must
Come ?”

“Never, and that’s the reason the time nev-
er comes."

“He is quite incorrigible,” Hector said to
Armando, with a sigh.

“My dear boy, we must get you married,”
said Rodolph, half-seriously, and half-laughing-
ily. "‘ Armande, you must look out a wife for

1m. ’

“Never!” replied Hector, hastily, with a
vehemence that was unusual for him.

“ Never marry I" laughed Rudolph. “ What
a dissolute young dog! Are these the princi-
ples you bring back from Switzerland ?”

Placide shook his head at he answered:

“ They are those I learned in Paris, where
marriage seems to demoralize the noblest
natures.”

The laugh with which Rodolph greeted this
remark was both long and loud.

“Armande,” he said, turning to his wife,
“are you not horrified ?”

“You go into society,” continued Hector,
without noticing his friend’s merriment.
“ Have you no eyes to perceive what is taking
place around you '1’"

“ Go on,” said the count, as he leaned
against the mantel, and took out his watch. “ I
have just ten minutes to give you. The air of
Switzerland has stimulated your moral system."

Hector was determined to speak out what
he had in his mind, and he continued :

“Do younot constantly see a young wife,
whose charms before marriage consisted in the
'tenderness and gentleness of her heart, the
delicacy of her mind? This reliant, helpless
creature comes out or the convent on the arm
of a man who has sworn to love and cherish
and protect liner; her first act is to plunge into
a—a—-a———

“A vortex,” added Rodolph,
hesitated.
pation."

“Where these captivating virtues become
80 many sources of temptation to the heartless.
She 13 said to belong to the man whose name
she. bears. You can easily recognize him
amidst the crowd around her, for he is the
only one who does not admire, who pays her
no attention, who affords her no protection——
that’s the husband.” '

“Then, there’s the other man,” interrupted
the count. “I see what you are coming to—
always present, always attentive, always de-
voted, adoring and adorable. That is the lov-
er._ Society is [composed of dozens of such
social arrangements. What then ?”

as Placide
“ I know the word—vortex of dissi-

' LED, ASTRAY.

 

10

“ Well.” said Hector, while his voice was
harsh, but earnest, “ when I see this, when I
see the husband encouraging the attentions of
these lovers, good-humoredly assisting in his
own dishonor, leading the wife to the edge of
the precipice down which one half of his life
must fall with her—a catastrophe he is the
only person who does not foresee. Well, I say,
if such blindness is the natural growth and
eflect of wedlock, Heaven defend me from
marriage. ”

In his excitement, Hector began to pace the
room with a nervous step, which only excited
Rodolph’s merriment the more.

“You speak like a book. Hector, the bar
regrets you, the pulpit has lost an ornament.
There is a vigor in your verbs, and a warmth
in your adjectives that is quite exciting. Nev-
ertheless, society will go on exactly as before."
Then, turning as if by accident, Rodolph took
up the bouquet of flowers, and said carelessly :
“What a charming bouquet. Who brought
you these lovely flowers, Armando P"

“ Guess,” and there was a troubled look in
Armande’s eyes as she spoke the word.

“Let me see," mused Rodolph, “who has
been here this evening ; Lesparre———” and, as
if struck by a sudden thought, he added quick-
ly : “ Suzanne O’Hara.”

“Yes, it was Suzanne,” replied Armando, ’
quietly. “She was here an hour ago.” _

“You should put it in water;” and than,
with a very poorly executed start of surpriseyas
he looked at his watch, Rudolph said: “ Why,
it’s ten o’clock! I must be off."

Armande noticed the attempt at deception,
but her voice was very calm ‘as she gently
asked: .

“ Are you going to the club ?”

“I think I shall look in at some theater;"
and again did he try to affect a manner which
was entirely foreign to his thoughts. “ Now I
think of it, I have not seen ‘ Crispino.‘ I’ll go
to the opera for an hour.” ,

“You are going to the opera '1’" interrogated
Armando, as she arose from her seat, while her
face blan_ohed to the whiteness of marble.

“ Yes.” and Rodolph tried‘to say it carelessly.
Then turning to Hector, he said: “Come to
breakfast in the morning, Hector. I shall not
see you again. Armando, so good-night. Hec-
tor will stop and chat with you.” v

He started to leave the room, but when he
reached the door he stopped and said, good-
naturedly: '

“ By the way, I am leaving you together with
all the blind confidence you spoke of just now
—eh? Perhaps that fine speech of his was
only dust in my eyes. Be careful! I am not

 

  

 
 

LED ASTRAY.

such a fool as Ilook. I'm looking after you. i eyes what the world, perhaps, has seen for

Oh, you long-faced, puritanical, cunning, sly months past."

dog!’ “You must not go!" commanded Hector.
And with a warning shake of the head and l 1 “ You 03111105 80 310119 I" he implored-

 

  
 
   

 

 

men'y laugh: he W93 Eonev ’ “ You shall go with me."
I ‘ “Me ?” asked Hector, aghast at? the idea.
CHAPLER XI. I “No, I cannot. Think what a. position you

  

DURING her husband’s joking speech Ar. desire me to accept in this, business."
mantle had stood with her back towards him, 1 “ You must! you 51131“ She cued firmlyv “3
while, by the rigidity of her form and, the color she took the bouquet from the mantel and threw
of her face, she resembled a marble statue u up“? the floor Wlth 8‘ fury that may only be
rather than a warm -hearted woman. 4 mm“ 1“ “.‘Vom‘ln scorned“ _

The moment that her husband left the room 1 TWO 01' three times 5119 Paced Wlldly across

-1 the room impatient at the delay of the girl
:thggifigofi?lzherseu no longer’ and WM ed’ i who in reality had been absent but an instant:

h
/ “ That bouquet was a signal to appoint km to 1 and then she went erself to hurry matters.
I met M the" “might [n | Oh, ‘l‘Zaordl .groaned Hector, as he was left '
Then she sank, almost lifeless, into a chair. Lilone' .Wha‘t ls to be done ? She. 13 right m
, or suspicmns. I know she w111 discover

“ Ah that is impossible I” exclaimed Hector , . . . .
as he rlished toward her to ofl’er his assistance: t something temble’ and there W111 be 8‘ dew“ 0f

“ 1t wasl" she shrieked. “I see it all. j 9‘ rqw;.”'nd I am in for it",
And they make me his wife, lay this con_I t1 As histeges roveCIl angiously around the room,
. ’ . iey res e upon t is ouquet which Armando
temptiblspart between them. 5 it come to‘ had hurled to, the floor, and with the sight ‘

this ?" .
She could not weep, for her pride had rem, came a thought of how the trouble mlght pos—

oeiXeIg tpo deep 9. woundlto admit of tears. ' Slbliy1 ngzyfgggén of joy escaped him” he
ec or’ Ewe me 9' g ass 0f water I Shel picked the bouquet 1m. and he said to himself: "

   
    
  

gas ed. H . .
e gave her the cooling draught she craved, That 1,5, 3' happy thought! 9‘5 Mount GOShne
and as she' drained the glass, he asked : . “V9916. 5W.- _
N Am yOu better now 3)» l lhen ringing the bell, he wrote these words .

“Yes,” she replied wearily; “my heart “Ponablank card:
does not choke me so much as it did just now. “ My Wife suspects, she is going disguised

 

. I am better—better.” to the opera to watch our movements. You
As if to prove the truth of her assertion, she had better leave the house when you receive
arose to her feet, steadying and supporting this. Rononrn."
herself by the table. Then, as she rang the He had hardly finished writing, short as the g 11.011
bell furiously, she asked : note was, when Lafontaine entered. 1 c1131]
“ Did you come here in a carriage P” l Hastin folding the card and placing itin the 1% 97121
“Yes,” replied Hector hesitatingly, for he bouquet, where it could be seen readily, he! ' 
essed what would follow. “ It is snowing; said hurriedly to the servant: a"1J0

it is only a common hack.” , g “ As ‘you value the welfare and happiness of “191%
~ “So much the better," replied the countess, , your mistress, jump into my cab, which you gal-DI
V firmly, while the blue lips shut themselves W111 find waltlng below at the do?” “3‘9 this “our

. closely, as if to keep in any moan which the bouquet to the opera, ask for Miss O Hams, 8‘?!
pain at her'heart might try to make her utter. ‘ box) and ‘1th“ 1‘ mto her own hands- D03}

In response to the bell, the servant—Aim: gfim‘éfftefi,“ word to a mortal’ nor lose “in rs
13131123133 flf‘igiignxffigezlge211?fiing very Silently the old man obeyed, and had not “Y

1

. . . . Hector actually pushed him out of the room 9 I
rapidly as 11 fearing her strength would fail: -' . . ’ 5‘
her before she had time to finish, “ bring me “ Amanda would have seen hm retreamng  NM

. . as she re—entered. ‘ “ A
a hat and shawl, select the plainest. ’ u I am ready," she said, impatientm .Rodol

Andes the girl was about to leave the room, u Lafontaine tells me my cab has gond; Rod

A111?“qu Stopped her With: , away,” said Hector, without even blushing 986‘

, G139 “19 your“ 5 that W111 do better» Be the lie he was telling. “ The man left W0 8'“ O'H

qu‘lfgxood mcio ! A d6! h t that he would call at my hotel for his fare; eBut

.u rman w a are you - , r - - was

’_ going to do ?" cried Hector, in amazement. bytfizrlgaft? 1’; $131,111: I’B‘mae’ grastg , ents 1
i ’ ‘

‘ “I am going to the opera,” said Armande,
firmly; “into the gallery, then I shall not be;
,7 recognized I am 301113 to see ‘with my own’

, \

“ In your thin shoes?” exclaimed iHectorl “by
in order to delay their departure as long as p031
sible, that Lafontaine might be more sure ( '-

     

arriving there ahead of them.
catch your death of cold.”

‘ and then, seeing that he was not disposed to
go, she added quickly :

alone.”

 

 

: sist, and 110 foHOWed her much as the burned to take offense at anything.
3 Child 8095 ‘20 the'fire. ‘ _ I “ But this time I think I beat you.”
Out into the bitter-cold of the wmtcr night, I “Play,” and O’flaru'g tom, was that of a
3 while the Winds wh1stled about her and the ; man who is certain that he will win,
‘1 dalnp Bn_0W 011111041”? t0 the very P0116, @113 Mount Gosline played the king of hearts.
t’ , young w1fe went to test her husband s fidehty. O’Hara, trumped 1/
’ ‘ — “ You have no heart ‘3" asked Mount Gosline, /
v in astonishment.

ft '1 CHAPTER XII‘ “ Divil a one,” replied the Irishman. as be
m Encroa’s bold plan in regard to sending the , played his card and called “two odd tricks and
er bouquet to Suzanne, and thus preventing Ar. 1 game. That was double or quits. Will you try
Or mande from discovering her husband’s trench. r another '1’"

‘ ery, succeeded, and thus for a while was the! “N0.” replied Mount Gosline, dryly, as he
mi trouble between man and wife arrested. An] arose from his seat. “I only wanted to see
‘1"  mande returned home believing that she had f, the odd trick.” Then, as he received the
iht wronged her husband, and she resolved at the l money WhiCh had been staked and 10st, O’Hara
05‘ ' first opportunity to show George de Lesparre i said: .
be how fruitless his love-making would be. I “A thousand thanks I I’ll go bail you win

)If, 4 That opportunity occurred sooner than she
‘ ' thought it would, and in order that we may
not weary the reader with uninteresting de-
rda tails, we will pass over the few weeks which

vfollowed Armande’s almost mad visit to the1

_Sed , Opera. house, and introduce them to a ball
l

five Rivonniere to her “ dear five'hundrcd friends."

n The company had been assembled several
' l hours, when the gentlemen, and more espe-
g cially Suzanne’s reputed brother, Major O'Hara,
L the I, evinced a desire for a game of cards.

he) ' A charming httle ante-room, immediately
' i adjoining the ball-room, was at the disposal of
:53 of those who wished to rest ('3) themselves by a

game of cards, and it is here that we find the‘3

)3; Count Chandoce and Major O’Hara engaged in
[amvfi a game of ecarte.

“I hold no cards to-night,” exclaimed Rom

D3,“ dOIPh, impatiently, as he played to his part.
ner’s lead.
3 not “You will be more fortunate ' in_ love,” said
room, ‘ 6 major, with a strong Milesmn accent;
figur .‘ Now’s your time, my boy. I mark the king]
"And the odd trick. as usual,” exclaimed
.Rodolph, as he played and lost.
gondf Rodolph arose from the table as he .uttered
3mg Eithese words, and Mount Gosline took his place
; we 8‘8 O'Hara’s adversary. .
, 59.13)} But whether the fop expected to Win or not,
- " 9 was destined to be beaten, and in a few mo—
33 u cute he saw that he was no match for the

sector; “major.  l

;asp09'.v
sure.‘ ' I ‘ y

S.

x"
‘2:

 

“ You will ;
“ Oh! if I could have died of cold I‘d have

been in my grave a year ago,” she said bitterly,
at the same time trying to urge Hector along ;,

v. which was being given by the Baroness de la ‘

LED ASTRAY. 21

"You certainly hold splendid cards," said
Mount Gosline, after the game had been in
progress about ten minutes. I

“I do," replied the Irishman, confidently;
‘ ‘ honors run in my family. The O’Haras were

‘ kings and queens."
l

{ .

l “Ah, you dog! you will have your joke,"

Hector saw thfl-t “5 WW “501953 for him to 1‘0- replied the good-natured major, determined not

at the other little game—the game of love.
How does that come in? The beautiful young
countess, I mean.”

“ My dear fellow," said Mount Gosline, in a
most patronizing tone, “I never had the small-
est Weakness in that quarter. No ; I respect
Itodolph too much. I am an admirer of the
daughter.” ‘

ly, and as he gave his companion what was in-
tended to be a sly poke in the ribs, he added :

“ There’s a pot of money in that quarter.
See here, now. I’ve some influence with the
count through a. person to whom he can deny
nothing ; but that person is—I’m sorry to say
it, sir—~but the person I allude to is-—-"

“ Mercenary," interrupted Mount Gosline,
“ I know she is.” "

 

“ I mentioned no names."

“ No;" and now Mount Gosline’s manner
was that of a man who, holding the winning
cards in his hands, determines to play them :
‘ “ but you mean your wife.”

1 “ Me wife! what’s that f" and the major’s

, start of surprise would have done credit to a
first-class comedian.

I “ My dear major, " said Hector, now coming

forward, “ that is the odd trick.”

O’Haraturned from one to the other, and ” ‘

._ surveyed them critically through his eye-glass
; for a moment before he made a reply. V Then,
we‘dthe most innocent manner possible, he
an s r v - ,1

h * . “ Were there any knaves amongst them, ma. -.
" If you Object to accompany me, I 511511 80 jor ?” asked Mount Gosline, in a. sarcastic tone.

“ To be sure,” replied the major, confident— .

“ She ?" exclaimed O’Hara, in some surprise. -

 

 

2'2 LED ASTRAY.

 

“ Uponme conscience, gentlemen, I’m at a
loss to know what you mean.”

p

 

“ Allow me to explain,” said Hector, ap- ‘

preaching more closely.
the baron to believe what I learned from the

“ What the divil is a crawler!"
Hector did not attempt to explain what he
knew O’Hara to be so familiar With, and con.

“ I could not induce tinned :

“ There he met a lady in whom be perceived

olice, that a card-sharper by the name of those beautiful afl‘inities which enabled him
Elennessy had found his way into good society to recognize a confederate——her name was

by the means of the beauty of a female ac-
complice whom he passed off as his sister, so I
asked the boron to sit down to ecarte with you
while we watched your game.”

“ Is it me you mane ?" exclaimed O‘Hara,
indignantly. “ An O’Hara, andamajor in the
British army P"

“ Sergeant major ?" interrupted Hector, sar-
castically.

“ Gentlemen, d’ye mane to provoke me
now ?" Andthe Irishman was becoming ex-
cited.

“ Not at all,” replied Hector, as he placed
his hand on O’Hara’s arm, while Mount Gosline
did the same. “ You know that I have been
absent from Paris for three week. Allow me
to give you an account of my travels. First,
I wentat the suggestion of the police to Wies-
baden, to make some inquiries.”

. “ Where the devil is Weisbaden ?” inter-
rupted the major. ,

“ It is a charming town in Germany, where
they play a nice little game called roulette, and
Where a kind of wild fowl called Patrick Hen-
nessy once flourished. Do you know such a
person ?”

“ Hennessy—Hennessy ?” repeated O’Hara,
as if the name sounded familiar to him. “ To
be sure I’ve met that name somewhere.”

“Perhaps on a brandy bottle,” suggested
Hector, with a laugh in which all joined.

“Well,” continued Placide, "' Imamked down
this bird, followed him from roost to roost.
He began life as a banker's clerk in Mullengar,
speculated and borrowed of the till; then he
enlisted in the rifles, and arose to be non-com-
missioned officer, deserted with someregimen-
tal funds, and turned up next in Vienna, as

- courier to Prince Kotzikofl‘.”

During Hecter’s recital, O‘Hara’s face was a
study. Try all he would, he could not pre-
vent the flush which would overspread his
,face at each incident in his life which was be-
ing repeated so accurately. But at last he
succeeded in appearing unconcerned, and an-
swered with a a careless laugh :

“ Ha-ha, ye divils l Isee what ye are at.
This is a bet. You have gotabet between
you to mystify me. Go on now—I’m aquil to
the pair 0’ ye."

“This ’Hennessy next appeared at Baden as a

oraupwr.
v “A which?" asked O’Hara, as if the name

_was one he had never heard before.

'1 A WWW? repeated Hector»

 

Suzanne. The pair agreed to pass themselves
as brother and sister, to play more readily into
each other’s hands.”

“ D’ye see the game '1’" laughed Mount Gos-

line, as he gave the Irishman a gentle poke in '

the ribs, and at the same time thinking how
nicely they had fixed the counterfeit major.
“ No; I don’t see it,” was O’Hara’s angry
reply. .
“ Suzanne was decoy-duck,” said Hector

“and when her beauty had enticed the wild »

birds into the toils, she held them tight with
her pretty arm around their necks, while Pat
plucked them and feathered the family nest."

“ What do you think of that ?” asked Mount
Gosline, again.

New was the Irishman's passion aroused, and
wrenching his arms from his companions'
grasp, he stepped back a few paces, and said,
while he eyed the two men closely, with an" ac.
cent that could not be misunderstood:

“ Well, if I had been in Pat’s place, I’d have
commenced such business with ball practice
till I could turn the ace of spades into a nine at

twenty-one paces ; or tossing a Napoleon in the _
air, could witha snap-shot bring it down a. ,

wedding-ring.” I

“The devil!” ejaculated Mount Gosline, as
he stepped back quickly. This was a phase of
the alfair that he had not anticipated.

“ I’d have employed my tender yout ,” con. i

tinned O'Hara, “ in practicing with the sword
till I was as quick and deadly as forked light.
ning, and as unapproachable as the north pole;
then. if I found any gentleman, or even a pair
of them, that raised a question about my ante-
cedents, I could give them in Spain—lead or
steel—a good accounts." '

It was new O’Hara’s turn to laugh, and he
did most heartily, being joined by Hector and
Mount Gosline with a very sickly smile.

The matter was taking a very different turn
from what they had expected, and they hardly
cared to push it further.

“ I say,” whispered Mount Gosline to Hector,
“ if I were you, I’d take no notice of anything
such a fellow said." . "

“ He addressed you,” answered Hector, 1n
the same low tone.

“ Of course. but I could not take it up, I don't I i

belong to the family,” and Mount Gesline spoke
as though he had settled the matter, so far as
he was concerned.

With a slight bow to the W. the two

_ j-~—,.r

he?" _ ,

«.9...

5
f
E

i
ii
i
.

 

 

' answered the major, with a wry face.

‘ he could see all that took place in the room, 1‘ )-

LED ASTRAY. ' 23

 

men sauntered into the conservatory, leaving!
O’Hara to his triumph.
CHAPTER XIII. 

ALTHOUGH O’Hara had, for the moment, the
best of those who were trying to expose him,
he did not feel at all comfortable, and when Ar— ‘
mande and Suzanne entered from the ball- ‘
room, he found the opportunity to whisper to
the latter: l

“ We must be 011‘! There’s a couple of 
blackguards hero throwing stones in our swim,
and disturbing the fishes.” .

“ My dear Pat,” said Suzanne, decidedly, ,
“you may go, but I shall remain. I have a
world of things to do. I am sitting for m
likeness to Giraud, and shall bo exposed at the
academy next spring." I

“ I’ll be exposed in the papers next week,”

“ My dressmaker has just taken my measure,”
insisted Suzanne.

“ The police have taken mine,’ ‘addod O’Hara.

This little by-play was disturbed by Armando,
who proposed to Miss O’Hara that they return 2
to the ball—room.

The major hardly caring to enter with them,
for fear that Hector’s account of his early life
had been made public, walked into the con— ‘
servatory just at the moment George Do Les—
parre entered the anterooxn.

Hector, standing under the shrubbery where

ticed that Armando made a signal to De Les-
parre, and he resolved to prevent, if possible,
any secret meeting between the two.

De Lesparro seated himself at the table, and
as he did so, Armando turned with an air of ,
vexation, and said, as she held her hand out to
De Lesparre :

“ My bracelet comes unclasped ; the spring
must be broken. Can you fasten it for me '3”

Then moving nearer the’door, Hector heard
her whisper: ' y

“Meet me here in five minutes. Contrive ‘
that I shall see you alone.” And taking Su- v
zaune’s arm, the two entered the ball—room ‘
again.

Hector came in from the conservatory, and .
seated himself a short distance from where De ,
Lesparre was carelessly turning the cards. 

It was nearly time for Armando to return. ‘
Not a word had been spoken by either of the 

l
l

 

men, and Hector evinced no intention of leav-
ing the room.

“Are you not going into the ball-room ?”
asked Do Lesparre, after a few moments of pro-
found silence. l

. “ N01" replied Hector, curtly. , l

“ Ah! you prefer to remain in the conserva- ,

. 'tory i‘” A.

“ Yes—like a flower.”

George was in des air. He must get Hec-
tor out of the room, ut how to do it he could
not tell.

After a very awkward silence, he arose, and
looking into the ball-room, said :

“I assure you that the room is splendid.
Really, it is worth looking at. I never saw so
many lovely women gathered in one assem-
blage. Do go and judge!”

“ There are men there, too, I suppose?"
said Hector, without rising from his seat.

“ Of course. " .

“I’ll not go, then. I hate men—especially
dancing men—with their horrible black coats
with tails, like so many black bugs amongst
the ladies."

“Shall we smoke a cigar in the garden P"
asked Do Lesparre, now almost exasperated.

“No, you don’t 1” said Hector, knowing that ‘
George only wanted to get him out long
enough to give him the slip, and return to the
room.

De Lesparre was about to make one more
attempt, when Mathilde entered the room.

At first she did not seovHector, but went up
to Do Lesparre saying : I

“Where is he ?—1 beg pardon, M. De Les-
parre, but have you seen— ” then noticing
Hector, she exclaimed: “ Ah, Hector, my
dear cousin, how glad I am you are back again !
I want you to do me a favor.”

“ I shall only be too happy]? replied Hector,
good-naturedly; but his face belied his words.
He feared that she would ask of him something
which would necessitate his leaving the room.
and that-he was opposed to doing.

“ I was engaged for this quadrille," said

, Mathilde, “and my partner has evidently for.

gotten me, and I’m sitting out.”

“ \Vho is the monster 1’”

“ The baron. You see that I can’t lose the
dance, and I shall have to make you do.”
“ Mel I’ll do I” exclaimed Hector, in sur-
prise. . >
“ Yes, give me your arm.”

“But I assure you, I don’t know the fig-
gnre,” objected Hector, earnestly. "I shall

‘ only be laughed at."

“Figure or no figure," said Mathilde, pet-
tishly, “I can’t sit on my chair like a wall
flower. Don’t be ill-natured and selfish, Hec-
tor."

This was more than Placido could bear. The
girl he loved accused him of being ill-natured
and selfish, and though 'De Lespan'e had a
thousand engagements with Armando, he would
not throw away his chance of happiness to pre- , '
vent it. Therefore he ofl’ered her his arm, and
went towards the ball-room. although it was
not with a very good grace thathe did so.

He had just reached the dpor. and was m‘en- I

 

 

 

24 LED ASTRAY.

 

t'tlly cursing the cruel fate which obliged him to give
De Lesparre the opportunity he was so anxious for,
when the baron met them at the door.

“ A thousand pardons. Ma‘m‘zellol I have been
searching for you for an hour,” he said. as he offered
his arm.

Hector experienced a great relief when Mathilde
s 'id to him: '

“Many thanks, cousin; you see I don‘t want you
now. it was so good of you to offer.” and the next in-
stunt the light-hearted girl was in the ball-room. .

George was now in despair again, and Hector tri-
umphant. .

But their feelings were very quickly reversed
when the baroness entered the room and said to
Hector:

“You are so good-natured, Hector. that I know
you will do me a favor.”

"With pleasure.” replied Hector.

“ Will you dance this guadrille with me?”

“My dear madame, l on’t know the figure," ex—
postulated Hector.

“ I’ll push you through," replied the baroness. tak-
ing his arm before he cant] say another word. and
as a foretaste of whgt her “ pushing through ” would
be, she ulled himt rough the doorway. and fairly
torced im into the pos1tion she wished him to oc-

‘ cupy

Thus was the way paved for the meeting between
Armando and De Lesparre, and despite Armande’s
most decided resolutions was that meeting to work
incalculablo wrong to all concerned.

CHAPTER XIV.

Arrnn Hector and the baroness left the room De
Losparre had not long to wait for Armande‘s com-
ing. .
De Lesparre believed that the meeting was ap-

pointed in order that he might once more declare his

love. but such was not the case. Armando. believing
that she had wronged her husband in regard to Su-
zanne, was anxious to atone in some manner for tue
thoughts of wrong she had had against him. and she
believed that she should begin by showing to D3

Lesparre how vain his love for her was.

And it was to .that cud that she spoke as soon as
she entered the‘room.

“ M. De Lesparre." she spoke. nickly, “ was I
wrong to lace you in my esteem as iighly as l have
done? as I wrong to believe you sincere, honest
and noble?“ _

De Lesparre’ was astonished at the tone which Ar-

. mantle used. - ‘ V ‘

“What have I done." he asked, “ to bring these
cold reproaches to your lips? Have I brought trouble
to your home. or remorse to your breast? Heaven
knows I have notl You bade me approach you as a.
friend—[ have done so." .

“Then I was wrong,“ said Armando. sadly, “and
I cheated my own conscience and played the fool
with duties which ‘are sacred—I trifled with your
feelin rs until I wounded my own.”

. “ What do you wish me to do?” asked De Lesparre,
and his voice was broken as if with anguish.

“ Leave this house—my mother’s house—at once.
Leave Paris to-morrow.“

“ Madamc—” began George. in a reproachful tone.

“ For my sake.” iiiterrupted Armando.

" I onev." he replied. as he caughther outstretched
hand and pressed it passionately to his li s.

“Thank heaven. there’s an end to tha i" said Ar-
mande fervently. as Da Lesparre left her.

For several moments she stood in deep and. per-

haps. bitter thought, which was interrupted by the

en rance of Hector. who. as soon as the dance was
concluded. had hurried back in order that he might
be in time to prevent any love-making between his
friend and the countess.

“ You are alone,”, he said. in surprise. as be en-
tered; " how pale you arel"

. ‘ Yes.’{replied Armando, in a voice that trembled;

' he 1w cone. ‘

/

 

 

“ That‘s well.“ said Hector. with a sigh of relief.
“Now I feel comfortable. I felt a sense 013—” l

“ Of oppression." interpolated Armando.

“ Just what I mean.” replied Hector, hardly know-
ing what he said. “ You have done the right thing,
my poor Armande; listen to me. I wish you knew
this man as i do. you could not care for him. You
were captivated with an illusion of your own imag-
ination—not a bit like that fellow—he is not all
your own fancy painted him—he’s neither lovely nor
divine.”

“ No." replied Armande. “I know it. If I encour-
aged his attention. it was more for spite——from
wounded vanit ; forI did, Hector; 1 encouraged a
foolish infatua. ion."

“ A .doll to nurse." replied Hector. sagely; “ a
brainless doll. a thing of wax and sawdust. just like
these men."

“ But my folly has done me good,” continued Ar-
mando. "It has rendered me rcpentant toward my
husband, whom I have wronged. A few kind
words from him will support me—and Mathilde; too
I have neglected her. see my wrongs and will
address myself to repair them; that will give me
conrage.’

“ What an angel you arel” exclaimed Hector.

“ There’s my mother-in-law.“ said Armando. as
the countess en tered the room still and prim. "I‘ll
begin with her.”

‘ If you can re air her.“ said Hector, with a grim-
ace and shrug o the shoulders. “the rest will come
very easy." and he left the room.

Filled with her newly-born resolution, Armande
went and, kneeling down by the Slde of the countess,
said. in a voice full of sympathy:

“ My dearest mother, how fatigued ou must bel" ,

For a. moment the old countess ooked at her
daughter-in-law in astonishment and then in a hard,
sharp voice. replied:

” Yes. I am. I hope this will he the last mob of
this kind I shall find myself mixed up with."

“ How glad I shall be to get back to the dear old
house at homel" said Armando. determined not to
be disheartened at the first rebufl’. “Indeed I will
try to make you happy there. and devote myself—"

“ We shall see,” interrupted the old woman in
much the same tone which she would have used ad
she accused Armande of telhnga falsehood. “ Where
is M. De Lesparre?"

_This was more than Armando could bear, and
rising from he humble position she said. as she
moved haughtin to the other side of the room:

“ He was here a few moments ago.”

“ You were speaking wiih him ‘2”

l A Yes.”

" He has relinquished all idea of marrying Mathil-
de?” said the old lady. sharply.

_ “I really do not/know." replied Amanda. in no
little confusion. “ I mean —I think—I suppose—"

“Ah. well?” interrupted the countess. in a tone of
virtuous indignation; “ perhaps you have your own
reasons for opposing my wishes."

_My own reasonsl" exclaimed Armando, with as-
tonishment; “I do not understand."

“I should be glad to think you did not," replied
the old lady. icily. ‘-

Armande’s heart was wounded bythe insinuation,
and she could not repress the cry of pain which those
cruel words wrung from her.

“ Ah, mother—molherl" she cried; “if you knew

how cruel you are at this moment. you would speak
more kindly to one who needs your sympathy l"
’ “ Sympathyl" exclaimed the countess, in the nt-
most derision. “ I know this. that you have not
learned in novels the duty of a wife nor the circum-
spection of a woman of rank. and you fail to bear
may son's name before the world as I have bequeath-
e it to you. I am not blind." ‘

"Ohl for one kind word!" cried Armando. from

out the anguish of her wounded heart. “Where

can my heart 11nd shelter?" . ,
As. if is waver to her question. Mathilde’ entered

-n..-~....._~._‘.. ~ ..

and.“

 

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.A, _.._......V

..-.—~'._-..\“_~«»~_~__-

“£ka x» ‘

‘ entrance.- _

LED ASTRAY. . 25

 

the room in order to get a. glass of water. As soon as
she had quenched her thirst she tumed to go, but
the countess detained her. .

"Mathilde. do not leave me~give me a few mo-
ments!" she pleaded. _

“I shall lose my place. if I stop,” said the young
girl, thoughtlessly. . '

“Tell me that you love me!" instead Armando,
eager for one cheering word. _

“ Of course I do,” said Mathilde, eager to return
to the scene of her triumphs. “ But what nonsense
you are indulging in."

“ No, nol" replied Armande, unsatisfied with Ma-
thilde’s careless answer. " Speak it froxnyou'r heart
—if you have one.“

“ My dear mother, you are nervous to-night," she
replied. And seeing her father just then, she beck-
oned him toward her and said: “Oh. papal come
and take care of her. She is quite hysterical. It is
the weather.” .

“What is the matter?” and Rodolph's veice was
.not unkind, yet it was devoid of that tone which
tells so plainly of the love which every woman so
hungers after. .

“ It is nothing.” said Armando, forcing herself to
be gay. "i never felt better, or more happy.”

As she spoke she took his arm With a pretty, con-
fidinfi air, and looked up into his face that he might
see t e love-light in her eyes. .

“ Your voice has changed,” said Rodolph. ten-
derly. “ How long since I have SOt‘n such a smile
upon your lips!"

“Then 1’] kee it there, if it pleases you,” she
said, tenderly an lovingly.‘

Then indeed would the reconciliation have been
complete, and the two persons who should. have
been allq'n all to each other would have been happy
in renewing their vows of love; but it was not to
be—or at least not then, for before Rodolph could
speak the baroness_eutered the room, as if out of
breath, and said quickly: '

“Ah! Rodolph, I lost {Ion in the darkness. What
have you done with Mat ilde?” I

“With Mathilde?” echoed Chandoce, in perfect
amazement. , “

“Yes,” replied Armando s~ mother; she was

with you 'a few minutes ago in the garden. I recog-
nized her bur/20413, white With red Stripes. 1 gave it

to her. I caught sight of you in the distance; you
had your arm around her.”

For a moment Rodolpb was completely at a. loss for
words, and then he replied. in a thItaung manner:

“Oh. true-I forgot—to be sure! Yes, ldid take
Mathilde for a turn around the lawn—what was I
thinking of? Then—then I brought her back to the
ballroom.” ‘

Ashe spoke he stepped to the door, looked in at
the dancers, and added, quic ly:

“See! there she is, dancin with Hector.”

‘ At this moment Suzanne ’Hara entered the room
from the conservatory while Rodolph's back was
turned.

The count did not see her. but Armando saw. and
the sight seemed to pierce her very heart, that Su-
zanne wore a white burnous With red stripes.

It was she. then, instead of_ Mathilde, with whom
Rodolph had been walking With his arm around her
Waist. _ _ .

Rodolph turned to his in is and said :

"Go on, Armande: your mother interrupted a.
most loving avowal. What were you saying

But Armande stood like some statue, with her hand
pointed in the direction where Suzanne stood. ’

“ Look 1" she almost hissed. _ _

Rodolph turned, and understood the Situation at
once. I,

CHAPTER XV. , _
IT was the entrance of Suzanne O‘Hara which had
caused Armande’s exclamation.
Rod olph broke the silence which followed Suzanne’s

 

i

 

“Armando,” he said, “ I—I assure you—"

But his wife would not allow him to proceed.

With all the fury of a woman scorned she walked

ast him and confronted the woman who had robbed
Ber of a husband’s lovo.

“Oh, ’tis you, inademoiselle,” said Armando, “I
really mistook you for Mathilde. This cloak—"

“ Oh, yes.” interrupted Suzanne, quite innocently.
“It is here.”

“Indeed,” said the young wife, sarcastically.

“ She was kind enough to land it to me," continued
Suzanne glibly. “ as I wasgoing totake a walk in the
garden, the rooms are so stifling.”

“Miss O'Hara.” said Rodolph, who had not quite
recovered his presence at mind “will you pardon
mollitz’I ask you to leave us? The countess is not
we .

With an inquiring look at the count, Suzanne left
the room, and Rodolph said to Armando:

“ You are under a. false ini ression, which I can
explain away when you are c in."

‘ God knows I‘m calm,” said Armande, as she
faced her husband, “ for despair is always so. This
is but the last drop that overflows my cup of misery.
Can you ex lain away the last five years? Outraged
by your indifference. by your contempt, I have seen
you trample your faith, your honor, all under foot;
for live years you have treated me as a. piece of fur-
niture in your house, a thing embroidered with your
initials and your coroner; and when now you bruise
my woman s heart and crush my ride. Ican not
suppressn cry of indignation, you ing me an ex-
cuse—a liel”

“ Armando!" exclaimed Rodolph, but his wife
would not listen.

“ Oh! you have applied the torture,” she said,
passionately, “and you have got the truth. Let us
throw off the mask, for to wear it longer stifles
me.

. “You want the truth?” exclaimed Rodolph. call- .
mg anger to his aid, as is very often the way of man
when he knows he is in the wrong. “You shall
have it. then. Think of the present what you please;
I shall neither excuse nor palliate it; its excuse and
palliation is the ast. For five years you have in-
dulged your mama for sympathies by posin before
the world as a victim. as a sufi‘ering wi e. You
taught our friends to regard you as an angel from
heaven,” and here Rodolph’s voice grew ironical, ‘
“ whose devotion and delicacy my gross and vulgar
soul was incapable of aprrecialing. That irresisti-
ble craving for compassion induced you to seek it
in your servants: no tribute was too poor. Ar-
mando. you ceased to be awife the moment you car-
ried your wrongs into your neighbor’s house; then
you lost the ri ht to reproach me." 1

“I have at east the right not to return to your
house, where my dignity as a woma‘n in insulted by
the infamy of which I am made the contemptible
instrument.” replied Armande, bitterly. “ Ishiill re-,
main here under the protection of my mother.”

"You talk nonsense,”said Redo] h, without an
accent either of anger or love in is voice; "you
will do nothing of the kind; you will not raise any
such scandal. to provoke commiseration at my ex-
pense; you cannot do as you please‘becauseinm
your husband: and you must do as fthink right—
and I shall not permit on to he a fool.”

Armando started to er feet, and confronting him,
said. in a voice that trembled with rage:

“ And if I cnmpel you?“

" And has it come to threats?" said Rodolph. con-
temptuously. “Compelme? Mydearchild, you do
not know what you are talking about.”

And turning away in a. cool. indifferent manner,
Rodolph. Count Chandoce, left the room.

Then did Armande's passion give way to rlef.
and throwing herself into a chair, she l d her, end
upon the table and wept violently. . ' \

During the interview between Armando and her
husband. George de Leapirre had been in the con- .
servatory where he coul hear and see all that

 

      

‘\

\

LED ASTRAY.

 

passed. This was the opportunity he had been seek-

mg.

Noiselessly he entered the room. and like the ser-
Pent in the garden, approached his prey with cat-

ike steps until he stood close by her side.

“Armando!” he whispered.

’l‘he countess looked up wildly at hearing the voice,
and recognizing the intruder, she started as if con-
fronted by some demon.

" Ahi—you—you here! Leaw me—leave me! I
tell you I am mad—go! You are faithless, too, for
your presence here is a perjury!"

“ No, Armande," entreated De Lesparre, using her

Christian name for the first time, “ I was leafing the
grounds when I heard your voice—you were in tears,

’and I could not stir.”

“Leave me, sir, I implore you." begged Armando
to him in such piteous tones, that had he possessed
anvportion of that love he professed, he would have
killed himself had she commanded.

“ You ask me to restore and respect the peace of
your life," said George. stmeringly. “Is this it? i
may not be able to restore them, but I can oifer
you the consolation of infinite tenderness, and min-
gle my tears with yours. Do not refuse the heart
that hes under your feet!"

“I can give you no share of my sorrow, without
accepting a share of your guilty love,” said Ar-
mando, as if she needed this reminder to kee) her

‘from opening her heart to this man who pro essed

to love her so tenderly. “ h! to listen to you here
in my mother's house, is in itself a. crime. Do you
know what you ask me? No, you cannot, you would
not tempt me in a moment of exasperation with the
word revenge. Oh, I tell you."

At this moment, as if sent by some evil agent,
Rodolph entered the room unobserved and heard De
Lesparre say:

“Armando, [ heard all that passed between you
both. I heard his bitter taunts, and your proud
resolve to vindicate your outraged honor.”

Then Rodolph saw George reach forward and clasp
Armande’s hand in his despite her resistance, and
he heard his wife say: .

“ M. De L’Asparre, i implore you to leave me; I do
not know what i do."

“ Armando. I love you." was De Lesparra's for-
veut avowal, and then Rodoiph could wait no longer.

Seizing Armande roughly by the arm, he said, as
he almost flung her toward the door:

“ Go into the ball—room !" and then turning to De
Lesparre, who was standing with averted head like
the guilty, base wretch that he was, he said:

“A word with you, sir.”

CHARTER XVI.

Fon several moments the two men looked fullinto
each other’s faces,

Rudolph broke the silence by saying:

I: gorge between us are not necessary.”

0.

“But you will understand that my wife’s name
must not appear in the matter: another pretext
must be found," and Rodolph’s voice trembied with
the intensity of his passion. ‘

“Any you please to dictate," said De Lesparre,
indifierently.

“ _Slt therei" and Count Chandoce pointed to a
choir by the table. ,

Many times did he pace back and forth the small
room, as if seeking to gain control over the anger
which suffused his face, and caused his heart to
throb as if it would burst its confines. At last he
stepped to the table at which De Lesparre was seats
ed, and inking a pack of cards that laid there. said.
in much the same tone that he would use in speak-
in to his servants:

J You,iinderstand what is going to occur?”

“ Deal those cards.”

Then Rodolph went to~the door. and calling a ser-
vant, sent him for Hector and Mount Gosline, who

 

 

came almost immediately after being summoned,
and found the Count Chandoce seated opposite De
L's arro at the table.

“ love you a thousand francs to lend me i" asked
Rodolph of Hector.

“ With pleasure," said Hector, as he produced the

money. “ Are you losing?"

" Dc Lesparre’s luck is wonderful.” said Rodolph.
with an effort to appear calm. Then throwing some
money on the table. he said to George: .-

‘* Fifteen hundred francs on this: amel”

" As you please,” replied Dc Lesparre, coldly.

“ Rodoi h,” cxpostulated Hector, as he saw his
friend ma {e a false play. “ you are mad to play like
that; no wonder you lose."

Count Chandoce took no heed of his friend’s ad-
vice. but 0 mtinued to play recklessly.

While they were so engaged. several of the guests,
headed by O'Har i, entered the room.

The opponents were just commencing a new
game.

" We will make it double or quits; three. thou-
san'l." said Rodolph.

De Losparre bowed. What the stakes were. did
not affect him, since the ultimate result was to be
blemished.

The game was played, and De quparre won.

“ Lost again i" exclaimed Rodo] 11. “That is two
thousand; owe you,” he said, thin 'ing that the time
had come to begin to quarrel.

“ Three,” said De Les arre, quietly.

‘ " I say it was two! ’ exclaimed the count, an-

ril y.

g “Three! I’ll he on my oath it was three,“ inter-
posed O‘Hara. who loved to see fair play—«when any
one else was playing.

Rodolph was forced to admit that it was three, or
involve himself in a quarrel with his victim. ,

“ Deali“ he said hoarsely, as he pushed the cards
over to his opponent.

Anxious to turn an honest penny, the gallant
Major O‘Hara pro )osed to back the dealer ten napo-
leons, and Mount osline acevpted the wager.

" I’ll take ten to one, he‘ll turn the king,” contin-
ued the major.

"Seven to one is the odds,” said Mount Gosline;
‘,‘ I‘ll give you eight, however."

“ Done. for the love 0’ sport!" exclaimed O‘Hara;
and De Lesparre turned the trump card, which
proved to be a kin . .

Now was Rodolph’s time, and he took immediate
advantage of it." '

" Stop!” he cried, angrily, as he arose from the
table. “Your luck. sir. no longer surprises me!”

An exclamation of. astonishment burst from all.

“ Where did you learn that trick?" asked Rodolph,
contemptuously.

,“ What do you mean?” asked Mount Gosline
as he also arose from his chair and confronted
Chandoce.

"Play the hand out,” suggested O‘Hara, who was
anxious to win the rest of the money he had
staked on the game.

“ ‘Tis useless.” exclaimed Rodolph: “the cards
are marked. This man is a hlaeltleg!”

Instantly all was confusion. Those around the
table attempted to calm Rodolph. and prevent the
quarrel which was pending. and, several of the more
hasty and long-tongued rushed into the ball-room to
tell of the disturbance. ’

Of course, many of the guests from the ball-room
crowderl'to where the cardpnrty were, and foremost
among tlwm were the baronQSs and Armando.

The countess at once understood What had hap-
pened. and the cause of it, for she exclaimed: -

“Rodolph. what haw you done!“ and seeing the
look of determination upon her husband’s face, she
sunk upon her knees and holding out her hands im-
ploringly, cried: “ Oh! for my sake—no—" And
glam, happily for her, her strength failed, and she

t

n e . , , . .
J ust then Mathilde entered, without having heard

   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
    
 

 

 

 

 
        
     
       
 
      
       
  
       
  
      
      
      
 
   
   
   
   
 
    
    
           
      
     
      

 

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LED ASTRAY.

 

anything of the trouble, and pushing her way
through the wondering crowd, she cried:

“What is the matter. Armando?"and then she
saw the countess lying where she had fallen. “ Oh,
papal" cried the young girl. turning toward the
count. “ \\ hat has happened ‘2" ~

She received no answer, but her womanly instincts
prompting her, she sunk uron her knees by the side
of her mother, and raising her lifeless head tender-
ly. exclaimed:

“She has fainted! Some one bring some water,
quick!”

“Gentlemen.” said Rodolph, to I-Iector and
Mount Goslinc, while his face. expressed infinite
tenderness for his daughter, “Ihcg of you not to
let in daughter hear one word of what has hap-
penedsf"

There was little need of this caution, for the
Countess Chandoce‘s carriage was immediater
called and Mathilde assisted in placing her mother
in it, holding her head tenderly during the drive,
while Hector rode on the box.

 

CHAPTER XVII.

WHEN Armando awoke to consciousness in her
own room her mental sufferings were terrible. Well
did she know why the. quarrel arose, and what
would he the ending of it.

Finallv. jUSt as the pale, cold dawn crept in
at her window, she. exhausted and terror—stricken,
knelt at her reading-desk, and there pra ed that
that night’s work might not beaccounte against

or.

While she was thus engaged, Rodolph entered.
He was cold, stern and determined. As he saw how
she was engaged he said, while a cold sneer wreath-
ed his finely cut lips:

“ I am glad to find you in that position, madame.
It indicates remorse, if not repentance."

" It is my nightly habit, sir, though you may for-

.t it.’ '

“Insensible and defiant to the. last," thought
Rodolph. And then he said coldly to the woman

,Befor‘e him: “I Will tell you, briefly, my business
ere. ’

“I know it!" exclaimed Armando, impetuously,
as she turned a tear-stained face to her husband.
“You come to lean ovi‘r the precipice into which
you have flung a wretched, thoughtless creature.

on come to the wreck 1you have made, and listen
to heragony. Iknow— know."

For a. moment, and a moment only, was Rodolph
touched by her evident agony, then he was hard
and cold again.

“I do not accuse you.“ he said. “You will tell
me that my voice is the last voice in this world that

. should be raised against you. You see. I do not
speak in anger; the time for that is past. Listen,
then. calmly to me. Listen with your heart, if you
can." He paused fora moment, and then drawing
up a chair, said:

“ Sit down."

She obeyed like one who, having no will of their
own. instinctively obeys any command which is
given them.

After a painful pause Rodolph broke the silence:

“For once in our hyes. let us speak gently and
kindly to each other; It may be for the last time."
and as he looked at his watch, he added: “in an
hour I- meet M.‘ De Lesparre." . I
buy-{mangle 111could not repress a cry of anguish as
s e ear t ‘s.

“ I ask you tobe calm," he said. “That man has
taken the place of your many friends to whom you
confided your wrongs. Tins is the natural conse-
quence of my faults and your weakness. “ You be-
gan by indulging in what you thought was the inno-

‘ cent excitement of sympathy. as the dm_nkard takes
at first to wine; but as he comes gnevnahiv to the
deadly ardent spirit that brings delirium and death,

. so, when you found the compassion 0: your female

 

acquaintance had lost its effects, you sought the in-
toxicai ion of a guilty lovc—” ‘

" Nol—nol" exclalmrd Armando, passionately.

“ You gave him n pl ECO, madame," he, continued,
in the same metallic voice, “that no man should oc-
cupy but one. Which of us shall do so, this morn-
in}; will decide. Enough of this. I came here to
explain your position, not my own. The world will
continue to he ignorant of the cause of this affair
to save the honor of my name, my daughter‘s an
yours. You understand me?"

A rinando turned ,her head; she could not trust her-
self to speak.

“ Should I survive." continued Rodolph, but now
his voice had lost some of its hardness. “ I wish that
until Mathilde is married, we should continue to live
under the same roof, but as strancers to each other.
When she leaves my house, I shall go abroad. You
may nsm ibe my absence to any motive you please;
I shall never trouble your life again. Do you accept
this arrangement?”

“ Yes, sir, if you desire it should be so,” {altered
Armando.

f :‘IGgod; now there is the other alternative. It I
3.1 -— '

Again was the heart oi'tl-ie woman wounded be.—
yond her control, and as a man who receives tho
lead or steel in his heart, so she started up with
more of a convulsive movement of the muscles than
by her own volition.

“Sit down i" again commanded Rodol )h, and
again she almost unconsciously obeyed. “ 6 ca 111
—-you See I am so," he continued. “In this case, I
leave behind me one dear charge—my daughter."
and here his voice falter-ed. The suffering of his
wife whom he had eruelly wronged had not affected
him, but the thought that his daughter might be
left without him, unnerved him.

“If l leave a will removing: her from your care."
continued Rudolph more coldly, “tho world may
suspect the reason, and discover a secret I desire
should bu. buried in ourbosom and in my grave.”

" Rodolphl’H crie< Armando, in her anguish.

“]f I heard rightly the few words you addressed
to that man—if 1 understood his reply you can look
that child in the face without a guilty blush?”

Rodol h’s remark was a question. and for reply,
Arman o stood before him. and looked into his 4;ch
as it to allow him to search her very soul.

For several moments Rodolph gazed steadily at
her, and then replied, as if relieved:

" That is well. There is my will," and he handed
her a paper he had to ken from his locket. “ I leave
her to you; all I ask is that you will treat her with
tenderness, and respect the ove you will find in her
heart for me. Do you think it is a reproach to you
that something should regret me? Do not check the
prayer nor chide the tears she may offer to my
memory. You promise me?“

"Oh. I do!" cried Armando starting toward him
with outstretched arms. “ Can you doubt?"

“ No!” re lied Rodolph. coldly, as he pushed aside
the arms hat would have entwined themselves
about his neck. “I believe you—that is all 1 had to
sa — now I leave on." and he went toward the door,
Without one wor of forgiveness to the woman who
was bun ering for it, although she had done nothing
for whic she might ask forgiveness.

For a moment Armando stood motionless where
her husbn nd had left her, and then with a low wail-
ing cry. she moaned: ‘

“ odol h l"

The man turned as he heard her cry, and said an. _ .

feelinzly:

“What do you want?" I

“ Nothing—no matter," she said, vainly trying to
renress Ihe sobs. »

Rod‘olph left the room, and as the door closed be-

hind him. Armando swayed back and forth liken. '

broken reed for a moment. and then staggerinz a

few paces toward the door. fell an inert mass upon 1 J

the velvet lilies and roses 0: the carpet.

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28

LED ASTRAY.

 

r CHAPTER XV III.

THE Bois de Boulog‘ne in the gray, uncertain light
of early dawn is anything but a pleasant place of
meeting, even when the. purpose of parties visiting
it are the most amicable; but when itis chosen as
the theater of aduel; then does the gloomy wood
put on a. ghostly so her as ect.

Less than an 10111‘ from t 1e. time the events occur-
red which we have narrated in our last c'iapter, Ro-
dol h the Count Cbandooe, Baron Mount Gosline
an: ector Placide entered an unfrequcnted part of
the Bois de Bonlogne, and there awaited the coming
of George De Lesparre and his friends.

For some moments they waited impatiently. and
then Hector remarked, more for the sake of saying
something which might direct his mind from the
gloomy thoughts which filled it than for any other
reason:

“ We are before our time,"

“ Can he have mistaken the appointed place?”
asked Rodolph, anxiously, for he was fearful some-
thing might occur which would rob him of the le-
vense he promised himself.

“ Impossiblel“ declared Mount Gosline, “I de-
scribed the spot to O’Hara. Itold him to take the
first turn to the left in the third avenue. Here they
are!" he added as O‘Hara, De Lespnrre and his sec-
ond. entered the little clearing where Rodolph and
Hector stood.

“ I regret, sir," sai‘l De Lesparre to Ro'lolph. “ to
have caused unv delay," and Then turningr to the
others: “ Gentlemen, I am at your service.”

“Is it not possible to arrange this affair without
resort to these extremities?” asked Mount Gosli'm.
with a faint hope. that his office as peace-maker
might be successful. “ A dispute at a card-table
cannot be so serious a matter."

“We are losing time, gentlemen,” said Rodolph,
impatiently. I

" Excuse me " said Hector. “ you are in our hands,
and have nothing to say in this matter.” Then
, turning to O’Hara: “Major. we surrgcst that your
noble principles will be satisfiei with a less deadly
strife than may result from firearms. We propose
swords.”

“ We are the provoked side." said the major with
some show of anger, " and I presume you are aware
that we are entitled to the choic= of arms.”

“ And you choose pistols," said Rodol oh, quickly,
as he threw of? his overcoat. “ Be it so.”

“ He’s tremblingr with rage,” whispered O‘Hara to
De Lesparre. “He couldn’t hit a haystacl: at ten
paces. How do you feel?“

“I feel that that man means to kill me if he can,”
answered De Lesparre. in the same low tone.

“And he will if you let him,” said O'Hara. “ Be
stead and quick. He’s a fine big target; you can’t
miss im.“ '

While this conversation was going on, Mount Gos-
line and O’Hara were engaged in loading the pistols,
and as they finished. the major said to Hector:

“‘ Shall I arrange this affair or will you?"

“I confess, sir,” replied Hector, with a very per-
ceptible sneer in his tone. "my professional ex-
periencein such sorry business is so limited thatI
might corrupt the noble principles we are hereto
wgtnetss. if I pretend to direct what I know so little
3. on . .

“I’m delighted to afford you instruction, young
gentleman," said the major in a gleeful tone. “We
set our men. if you please, at twenty—four paces
apart. At the signal. they will advance. to these
limits," andhe placed two swords on the around.
about five places apnrt‘ “ as they approach they will
fire when t ey like. The one that fires first. stops at
the spot when he delivers his shot; the other man
may then walk up and pot him if he can.”

“ Do you understand?" Hector asked of Rodolph.

“Yes,” was the reply.

’ “Then here are the arms." said O’Hara, offering,r
Rodolnh the choice of pistols. and as he took it.
the other was handed to Do Lesparro, and the major

 

cried out, much as if he were officiating at some
festive game:

“Now, gentlemen, will you place yourselves?"

The lost not had come. and in a, few moments
the “ grim dice of the iron game “ would be invoked
to decide between the honor of the two men who
were now about to face each other in mortal combat.

Mount Gosline attended Rodolph, while O’Hara.
did the same for De Lcspnrre. and then the men
walked to the limits to wait for the word.

As O‘Hara returned, after whispering a few words
of advice in his principal‘s ear. he culle :

“ Are you ready, gentlemen? Go!"

Slowly the two men approached each other. care-
fully watchiug each movement, and read to dis-
charge their weapons whenever they co d do so
with the most deadly effect. '

About half the distance between the starting point
and the limit marked by the swords, Dc Lesparre
halted. and quick as thought aimed his weapon at
Rodolph and fired. ,

Almost with the. report of the istol,Rodolph strut-
,rzered back, his right arm foil y his side, and his
weapon dropped from his nerveless grasp

Both O‘Hara and Hector sprung to his assistance,
but before they could reach him he wavad them
back, saying:

" Stand back—’tis nothing!” .

The ball had shattered the bone of his right arm,
int he was nor. to be deprived of the shot which be-
longed to him. With a great deal of exertion he
succeeded in picking up the pistol with his left hand,
and then advanced toward Dc Lespnrre with the
firm determination to avenge his wrongs.

George De Lesparre nerved himself for the shot,
which he expected must come, and looked full in his
opponent’s face without flinching. He had had his
shot, and according to the terms of the agreement.
Rodolph must have his and with it must come
death, for the count had advanced close to Main-
tended victim. and the pistol was within two feet of
De Lesparre’s heart.

Hard and cruel were. the lines about Rodolnh’s
month, as he realized that his enemy was complete-
ly in his power. and he was determined to make the
most of the advantage which chance had given him.
But as he was about to pull the trigger, and thus end
the life of a fellow‘creature, all that was good and
noble in his nature rebelled against the not, and he
heSItzited, let fall tho. weapon, and said hoarsely:

"T give you your life!”

For a moment De Lesparre could not understand
the position of affairs, and then the thought of how
he would stand in the eyes of the world came over

a

‘him. and he said, pnssionatelv:

“You have branded that life with infamv. You
would send me back to the World with a dishonored
name. Kill me—you have the right—or withdraw
the charge you have made.”

“\You branded my heart." replied Rodolph. bit-
terly, between his closed teeth. " You have deso-
lated my home. and sent me out into the world
blighted}:

“ Your im utation will ruin an innocent man," ex-
claimed De desparre. .

“Your imputation has ruined an innocent woman.
I know my wife. is not guilty, but you have contam-
inated her image in my breast. Go—but face to
face with your dishonor as she must'do-shnre the
bitter cup you filled for me. Shame for shame—we
are quits." ’

And Rodolph turned to his friends, leaving De
Lesosrre to face the scorn and contem t of the
world. who. while they believed he had 0 eated at
cards. would banish him from their midst; but had
they known the real cause of the quarrel, would
only have lightly censured him for his folly.

CHAPTER XIX. .
Ronown’s wound was not dangerous, but it pre-
vented him from using his right arm for some
months. and during.r the greater portion of that time
he was confined to the house. .

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George De Lesparre had let t Paris with a stain
u on his namc,and no one knew anything of his
w iereabouts. ' .

The state of affairs in the Chandoce household
was exactly as Rudolph had marked out during his
interview with Armani-10. DTOViOllS to the duel.
They lived under the same rool’, but never spoke to
each other save when before strangers, and then
only that the world might not know that they were
other than what they seemed.

To Arniaude‘s affectionate nature this estrange‘
ment. which she could not believe was through any
real fault of hers, was most hitrassii r; but she
strove nobly to conceal the real state of ier feelings

‘ and tried to divt-rt her mind by taking a. more lively

hits-rest in Mathilde’s affairs.

She insisted on touching her step-daughter to
paint, and after a few weeks took the entire charge
of her musical education.

Hector and ,lhe Baron Mount Gosline still con-
tinued constant visitors upon Rodolph and his
family.

As soon as Rodolpli was able to hear the journey,
they all went to iis chateau, where we. first met
them, and it istherc that wewill again introduce
the reader, at the time when the Count Chaudoce’s
wound was nearly healed.

The family Were all Seated in Rodolph’s library.
Armando. pale and wan, was seated by the table,
sewing, and every now and then she would lift her
large, mouriiful e as to her husband, who was seat-
ed iii another par of the room reading a paper.

Mathilde. gay, vivacious as ever. was engaged upon
a small landlsca e, and the baron was leaning over
her in a love-sici): position.

The countess, sour and forbidding as ever, was
engaged upon some knitting. which sh“ seemed
always to have with her, while the bare s, aifcct-
int.r the eniployincnts of youth, was listlessly turn-
ing the pages of music which stood upon the music-
rock.

“ I cannot see, baron.” said Mathilde. pctulantly.
as Mount Gosline leaned over llt'l‘ with a greater
show of affection; ‘ you obscure my livlit.”

“I‘ll stand here,” said the. baron. dutifully. as he
moved a short distance away and stood in what he
thought a languishing position. ~

“Now you distract inc. Why don’t you take a
book and read?” and her tone was certainly not all
a lover could wish for. I ‘

“ Your presence would distractme,” replied Mount
Gosline. motiriifuliy.

' “You never rend.”and now there was almost a
sneer in Mathiltle's voice. . _

“ Oh. yes," insistrd the baron, thinking that now
he had a chance to say a few words which should
move his charmer; “I (lo-in the silent hours of
night, when all is still, when the world is at rest.
Then arise dreams of thee, in the first sweet sleep
0? night."

The baron paused to note the effect of these. words.
He felt that he had said something vcryfine, and
was positive that it could not tail of hi inging some
response from Mathilde.

Imagine his discomflture when. without even look-
ing at him, Mathilde took her painting to her mother
and said:

“ There, that is done. Is that better, mother,

dear?" .

"It is very good, indeed," said Armando. “ Show
it to your father."

“Look, papal” said Mathilde, doing as she was
hidden.

“Did you do thatff'hsked Rodolnh, in some sur-
prise, as he looked critically at the drawing.

“Yes,” replied Mathilde. with a slight hesitation;
“ that is. mamma helped me, you knew.”

“I did not know she could paint.” said Rodolpli;
and encouraged bv his voice. Mathilde commenced
to sound liar mother's praises.

“ Nor I,” said she, “ until a few months ago, when
she con-acted one of my drawings. Since then she

 

   

 

has taught me. She paints beautifully, and do you
know. papa, my music teacher has gone away. He
would not stop.” ‘

“ Why so?”

“ He said mamma taught me better than he could.
I had no idea till lately how accomplished she is—
and so patient with me—so‘good. I can get on twice
as fast with her as with—”

" That will do," said Rodolph, almost impatiently.
He could not have even his daughter speak so highly
of the woman whom he, in his arrogance and pride,
had cast off from him as if she were the guilty thing
he had almost accused her of being.

“Papa, dear,“ said Mathilde, after a moment‘s

pause. K

“ What's the matter now?" asked Rodolph, as he
stroked his daughter's soft, rich hair.

“I want to say something to you in private.” and
the young girl's face and neck were dyed in a. rich
crimson as she spoke. ‘

“ 0 ho! in private?" laughed Rodolph. “Very
well: I think I know what it is about."

Mathilde did not wait to hear more, but in order
to hide her confusion, wont to the baron and com-
menced to talk very rapidly and almost confidential-
ly to him, thereby making him one of the happiest
of men, and completely deceiving her father as to
the real state of her feelings.

“The baron has proposed to her.” thought Ro-
dolpli, “ and she is going to ask my permission to
marry him. Peer Hector! l'd have given the rest of
my worthless life to have seen her married to him.”

For several moments the Count Cliandoce finiscd
upon his own unenvisble position, and at last arous-
ing himself, he asked:

‘ “ where‘s Hector? Who has seen him this even-
ing? ' '

Mathilde, the countess and baroness all answered
as with one accord:

“ I gave him a little commission.”

“Really. ladies," said Rodolph. lauehing, “you

take advantage of that good-natured fellow."

As he spoke. and as if the convm‘sation had really
been the. means of bringing lyim, Hector entered, al-
most loaded down with bundles.

After greeting: the occupants of the room. Hrctor

delivered the bundles to their respective owners. re- '

ccivlng from each a careless acknowledgment of
the obligation. , I _
“ I sup mse you‘have dined." said Hector. ‘

“ No, I e ciot," said Armando. " I dela 'ed the din-‘

ncr until your return," and ringing t e bell, she
gave the necessary orders to the servant.

“Let us take a turn in the park until it is ready."
said the liaroness. rising. “Hector. will you give
ni(i_tyoi,ir arm? A little exercise will give us an ap-
pe i .e.

“A little exercise,” muttered Hector to Mount
Gnsline: “I‘ve had ten miles already," and then
turning to the baroness, he said, while he offered his

arm. as cordially as though he had not left the house ‘

during the. (lav:

" I shall be happy, liaroness.”

Mount Gosline could not understand how any one
could discommode themselves for the sake of oblig-
iiig others. and he naturally thought that Hector‘s
willingness arose from some interested motive.

“ That fellow is trying: to net on the weak'side of
that old woman,” he t iought. “He thinks that I
cannot see his game." ,

It was a hop iy thought for the baron. and although
he did not boo it, he did the next best thing, which
was to offer his escort to the countess for a. walk in
the park also. And the two followed Hector and the
haroness.

When they had left the room, Rodoiph said to M0.-
thilde, who had again busied herself .with her paints:

“Leave us for a moment, and come back when I
“with” b‘ d

a » ii e 0 eye . '
' “ You wished to speak to me?" said Armando. HP
ing from her chair and going toward her husband.

: Ala

a ,
V a

 

* Arm

30 LED ASTRAY.

 

“Yes.-” replied Rodolph with a business-like air.
" Mathilde has received a proposal—at least 1 believe
she desires to tell me so. You have noticed the bar-
oh’s attentions?"

“ Yes, with regret.”

“ I have no wish to influence her choice, even
though I could have wished—"

, Rudolph stopped quickly. He had schooled himself

to talk to Armando without betraying any feeling,
and he knew that should he begin to speak of his
wishes in connection with his daughter, his voice
would soften despite all he could do. and he believed
that to allow it to do so would be to betray a weak-
ness on his part.
’ “ We can now regard her marriage as decided," he
continued, coldly. “and the moment is at hand to
remember the agreement we made some time a o.”

"I have not forgotten it," said Armando. “ ou

mean—” and here her voice faltered; she could not
I finish the sentence, and Rodolph continued it by
so insr, almost fervently:
‘Her marriage, and our separation.
sppkengo your mother on the subject?"
4

Have you

“It will be better if she should know nothing of
what has happened.”

“ Yes " assented Armande, she could not trust her
voice to Speak.

“ You will return to Paris on a visit to the baro-
ness.” continued Rodolph, coldly.
» “ Igould rather—if you will permit me," and now

n'le had to exercise all her will, and then she

did not succeed in choking hack the sobs that almost
prevented her from speaking, "remain here, unjer

, our—I mean your roof, with your mother."

" Here?” askei Rodolph, i . surprise. “I do not
think ou would be. happy here."

“ I 0 not think I shall be happy anywhere.”

There was a long pause, and when Rodolph spoke
again his voice had lost much of its coldness and
metallic harshness.

EVSIhy do you wish to remain in this house?” he
as e' .

“ hat I may live in the presence of the past.”

“I do not understand you,” said Rudolph.

Armando turnei sorrowfully away, as she re lied:

“ No! and [—1 cannot exp ain without—it is too
late now! But if you will let me, I would like to
live here, where you were born, with the old people
amongst whom your boyhood was passed amidst—”
She was now venturing upon a topic she knew she
could not speak of without betraying more agitation
than she would have her husband see. and she stop-
ped abruptly. and then added: “ When you' wish to
{grunt}, I will go away. Will you permit me to do

5.

It was now Rodolph who turned his face away.
lest what was workingin his heart should be read
there, and strong as he was in his own honor and in-
tegriry, he could only answer:

“ Thank you.”‘said Armande, as she slowly left the
room.

As soon as she was gone, Rod olph gave a sigh of
relief, or sorrow, and muttered. as he sank back in
his chair, exhausted with the mental conflict:

*‘ Too late—it is too late! I am glad she left me.
How weak I feel to-dayl"

CHAPTER XX.

Foa some time Rodolph remained in a profound
reverie. which was broken by the entrance of
Matlhilde. 1 n k d ' i

" apa, are you a one? as e the oun r . en-
tering timidly. y g‘gi

“ Yes, I am alone. Come here.”

Mathilde seated herself on a footstool at her
father’s feet, and waited for him to speak to her.

V “Well, now. what is it?" he asked, pleasantly.
’ “Well.” and Mathilde looked up very confidential-
. ly, “I've a great secret to tell you i" '

 

“ Oh. a secret!“ laughed the count; “ and suppose
I’ve guessed this mighty secret already? Let me
tell it to you. You love somebody, and somebody
wants to marry y0u." .

“ Oh, papal“ exclaimed Mathilde. clasping her
hands in an ecstasy of delight that she had been
saved the embarrassment of confessing exactly what
her father had guessed.

“ And I give my consent," continuedt Rodolph.
“There, the baron has my 1permission to ask your
hand of me. and you may to 1 him so." r

“How good you arel" exclaimed the young girl,
with a demure little grimace upon her fair face;
“ but you have only guessed half my secret," she‘
said. nrchly.

“ Only half?"

“ That’s alll" and now Mathilde blushed violently.
“ The love part was right; but you have guessed the
wrong one. ’

" Do you mean to say that you are not in love
with the baron?" and now Redo ph’was astonished.

“ Not the least little bitl" declared Mathilde.

" But with whom? there‘s nobody elsel"

“Yes, there isl” persisted the young girl, as she
hung her head, “ there’s—the other one."

" What other?” asked her father, a little impati-
ently, and then as a sudden light dawned upon him
£10 asked, half-doubtingly: “ You don’t mean Hec-

orf’.

“ Yes, if you please, papa." This was said very
timid y.

“ Whatl" and with the exclamation Rodolph took
his daughter‘s hands in his. and looked at her with
a happy, quizzing expression in his eyes: . /

“ Do you mean to look me in the face. and tell me
that you want to marry Hector Placide?" "

New Mathilde entirely mistook her father’s look
of joy. She quite believed that such a marriage
would he distasteful to him, and she faltered pite-
ous v: ,

" Oh. denim—dear papal I know my grandmamma
don't like him. but I hoped you would not refuse!"

" Refuse!" exclaimed the now hatng count, while
the tears of surprise and joy almost 0 oked his utter-
ance. “1‘1 don‘t deserVe this. You love Hector—
but, my dear child. if I could have put my heart into
your breast. it could not have prompted you to a

etter choice. But since when did you discover that
you loved him 7“

Now was Mathilda happy. and resting her head on
her father’s breast. she answered his question in a.
low voice, tremulous with joy and thanksgiving:

t " Since I perceived his goodness, gentleness and
ruth. ’ , ' '

“ But you saw these a year agol"

“ No; not until mamma opened my eyes." _

“ Armande—” began Rodolph, but Mathilde inter-
rupted him, by saying: ’ _

“ While you were so ill, we passed our time to ether-
—here alone—and somehow I grew to know. er so
much better. I began to see the world With her
eyes: she raised me show it. and I saw what was
beautiful and good—why—I— I—I saw that I loved —’°

“ Your cousin Hector?" added Rodolph, as the
young girl, in the timidity of her first love. couldnot
so boldly speak the name of the man whom she
loved. but who had not even asked her to be his.

" Yes; and she said she thought—7" and sudden]
remembering that she was betraying her mother s
confidence. she said archly:

" Don’t betray me if I tell you?"

“ No." replied Rudolph, for his daughter was mak- .
ing a revelation to him he had not dreamed of.

h‘ighe said it would please you," continued, Ma-
t i e.

“ And it does please me! I‘ll speak to him at once."

“ Oh. don't. papa, dear!” exclaimed the young
girl. frightened at the thought that her secret was
about to be made known, _

“Don’t what?” laughed the count, enjoying her.

confusion.

“ Don’t speak to Hector—or at least not like that.”

 

9;.

"Marv-IL" 'Aed- “wig

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
     
   
  

 

LED ASTRAY. 31'

 

” And why. ray?"

“ He might [E‘flls‘u mo."

“ I don’t thunk he will." and Rodolph’s eyes twin-
kled with the satisfaction he telt;,"l)ut we shall
have to overcome another obstacle—the opposition
of your two grandmothers." ' _

“Oh. I can muntge that," said Mathilde, confl-
dentl . . .

“ \yhatl manage those two old ladies! ’ and now
Rodolph was indeed surprised, for with till his skill
he had never been able to effect such a hnp )y idea.

“Yes,” said Mathilde, nrchly, “l shulltel grand-
mother Clmndoco that the. huroness won‘t hear of
the marriage. And I’ll tell the grnnzlinumma baro—
ness that the countess opposes it. So—you under-
stand?”and the merry gir nodded herhead triumph-
antl .

“ Ketween the two nruatives you will get an at-
firmative, you little, rogue!”

At this stage of the U‘lllVCY‘Sallfill Hector ont' red
the room, and with glowing: face, and with upraiscd
finger to warn her fat.ln,:r not to speak to Hector
then, the confused Mathilde tried to leave the room
unobserved. \

 

CHAPTER XXI.

FORTUNATELY for Mathilde. an opportunity was
given her to make, her exit in a pcrl‘ectlynatural
manner, for as Hector entered, he, said: 9

“ The baroness sent me for her shawl.”

“I know where it is.“ snid Mathilde, eagerly. “ I
will take it to her. I think papa wants you.”

“ M9?" asked Hector, looking around in surprise.

“Yes—that is 1 think so," said Mathilde, hurried-
ly, us she ran away.

“ What's the matter with Mathilde to-day?” asked
1Hector of Rodolph. “ She looks quite—l don’t know

10W.

“ No wonder.” replied Rodolph, determined to

' tease Hectora little. " lnerd not conceal from you

my little. family arrangement in prospect. The
truth is, Mathilde is going to he married.”

“To be married l” Hector stanunored, us he reeled
like one dazed by a. sun-stroke.

"What is the matter?" asked Rodolph, enjoying
his confusion. “ There is nothing very surprising in
that?" ‘

“No—noth—nothintr whatever,"Hector managed
to say. “Of course, she—she deserves to lie—that
ls—I sincerely hope she will be happy."

“ l have no doubt of it."

“ I need not ask if you approve of her choice?"

“ Oh, perfectly. She has chosen the very man of
all others I preferred."

Hector choked back a. soil, and taking Rodolph‘s
hand, said in a tolerath firm voice:

“I congratulate you! I do, really—with all my
heart. God bless you and her—her especially.”

"My dear Hector,” said the count. thinking that
he had carried his sport for enough, “ the man she
has chosen is yourself 1”

Hector sank into a chair. entirely unnerved by the

' welcome but unexpected news.

“Me?” he asked, trying to understand it all. “ I
35 , Rodolph, don’t. there's a good fellow! Ilike a
,jo 6, but this is rather aeruel one. 1 have loved her
in secret since she was a child.”

- “Ohl you call that a secret, do you?" and
Rodolph laughed heartily. "Why, it was as plain
as the nose on your face.”

This remark was made innocenth enough by

rRodolph but it instantly 'eminded Hector of what

hecousicered his personal defects, and he asked,
disconsolately :

“That‘sit. Do you suppose she could ever get
over such a. face?"

“You had better ask her—there she is " said
ROdoth. as the cunt: lady passed the door. ‘ Come
here, Mathilde, 'vo told'IIector that you loved him,
an he won’t believe me!” As he poke, Rodolph
took her by the arm gently, and led er up to Hec-

tor, ,who said eagerly:

fr,‘

 

“She (lees not denyit! She would not joke on
such a subjectl Mathi de—I hep; pardon. main‘selle,
I dth know what I‘m saying. 1 think l‘in gmng to
cry. ‘ p
“ Hector?“ said Mathilde, timidlz.

“What shall I do? Would it e ridiculous it I
were to go down on my knees to thankyou? Because
—don't you see you don‘t know, you can‘t know
What—what I (125$

“I think I do,” said Mathilde, so archly that
Ecctor could not fortho life of. him help embracing

er.

"‘I am so happy,” exclaimed the young girl. as
with Hector’s arm around her waist sh looked up
into his’YaCC. 

“It depends upon yourself to remain so."suid
Armunde, who had entered unobserved. and tak-
int: Mathildc‘s hands aflectionately, she continued:

“You are supremely happy now. But do not
think your life is going to be eternal sunshine, or
that you are his sole care. Recollect that men sus-
thin the double burden of our common liws. They
have thoughts, hopes and pleasures apart from us.
Don’t he jealous if he finds them in society you can
not share. When he. comes home do not rccvive
him with a bitter or dark look. A soft word. a greet-
ing smile, are golden threads that, woven tenderly
about a man’s heart, wrap it around and around un-
til it lies enmeshed in willing and eternal slavery.
Bless you. my sweet Mathilde! G0. take your hap-
piness into the. air. and give it wing."

As Armando concluded, Hector, anxious to be
alone with the woman he so dearly loved, took her
hand and was about to lead her to the guard 11, when
Rodolph, who while Armando had been 5 eaklng.
hud seated himself in the furthest part of t eroom,
arose and said:

" Stay, Hector! One word. All Armando has said
is true; but don’t let all the sacrifices be on Me.-
thilde’s side. Don’t put her virtues too often to
proof. If you have quarrels. no matter if she be in
fault, be the first to seek reconciliation. Remember
she is the Weaker sex. All girls are romantic; don’t
ridicule those fond effusions. Romance is virtue
carried to exaggeration. 'l‘hut affluence of her love
is a sacred otfuring none but a madman would o‘ut—
rage, none but tffool despise!"

As he tluishcd speaking he turned away as it to
leave the room, and Armando, who had been listen~
ing intently to all he said, sunk back in her chair,
sick and d iscourugod.

“Now is the time for them to heal the breach,”
whispered Hector to Mathilde. and understanding
him, the young girl went to her father, and throw-
ing her nrms about his neck. whispered. as she
quoted her father's words which he had just used:

" If you have quarrels. be the first to seek recon-
ciliation--no matter if she‘ be in fault. Remember
she is the weaker sex.”

Rodolle hesitated. He could. like all mentelve
the ngvice; but to practice it was an entirely differ-
ent t ing. '

But Mathilde, with her arm in his. drew him on,
and leading him to her mother, left him.

For a moment he remained undecided, and then,
as it conquering himself by a severe mental eflort
he approached Armando and said: '

“ Armando. we have been astray. I have deserved
to lose. you, for l despised your love; and if for a
moment your heart has strayed—" '

“Never, Rodol 11, never] ‘ exclaimed Armando,
joyously,-as she tnrew herself into his arms. ‘

'1 believe you.” and Count Chandoce impressed
a kiss of mingled love and respect upon his young
wife’s fair forehead. .

Dear reader, when could we find a more flttln
time to take leave of our characters and of you; an
as the end of the quarrel between man and write.
mav you also say of my story, that it was flttin
that we should at this time declare that we h
reached '  -

THE END.

 
 

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1 A Bride of’nDny; or, The Mystery of Winifred
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2 The Girl \rVii’c: 0r. The True and the False.
Barth-y 'r. emapwl.

3 “'11.! H Love? or, Callvzlans and Sweethearts.
\Vni. Maian Turner, M. D.

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, By [{ett Vt'inwuud.

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42 The Bouquet 511‘]; or, A Million of Money. By
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43 )Iurlluml, the Prima Donna.

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15 LIN-y Temple . Daughter of Charlotte.

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4! The Creole flutters: (vr, Thu Mystery of tln
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