The Clmafiest find Best. Library: fl‘he Czeamlof Amen-Lean and Foreign Novéls for Five Cantu. Copyright, 1883, by BEADLE m ADAMS. September 18. 1883. Entered at- tho Post Office at New York. N. Y.. at Second Class Man Rates. N0 201. VOL. VIII. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE, 5 GENE; UNG GIRL’S ORDEA AYO 1 Y “I LOVE YOU STILL}? J} )7" HAZle CLAXTOM AUTHOR OF “WHICH WAS THE WOMAN?” “FOR HER DEAR SAKE,” “ LEAP YEAR,” ma, ETC. 2 . ' A Young Girl’s Ordeal; “I LOVE EU STILL.” BY SARA CLAXTON, AUTHOR or “ mm ouanmw‘s SACRIFICE," “UNDER A CLOUD,” are, are. A CHAPTER I. AN mom-1am AT THE ACADEMY. T!!! New York season was at its hight, and the fashionable thoroughfares were thronged with vgaylydressed pedestrians and vehicles of a rich and splendidly-appointed character. Fifth avenue of course, was full to overflow- ing; and in the vicinity of Madison Square there was quite a flood of human beings pour- ing.- for the most part, toward the great annual exhibition of pictures which, as all the world knows, is held in the Academy of Design. It was a radiant day in June, and as the sun beamed in glowing rays upon the moving crowds of fashionably-attired people, the scene made up a brilliant picture of life, infinitely interesting in a variety of ways, and in many respects more impressive than anything of the kind which it would be possible to see else- where. Amid the crowd which slowly moved through the entrance on this bright June day might have been seen a small group of pretty girls, who kept well together, and who were accompanied by a tall. elderly lady in spec— tacles, whose severe aspect and rigid mien un- mistakably denoted the “proprietor of a ladies’ seminary.” And such she was. In fulfillment of a promise of long standing, Miss Frost, the lady above described, was taking a few of her favorite pupils to the academy. “Among the girls, there was one whose re- markable beauty attracted much attention, and whispered comments were indulged in by many as she stood with her companions on the steps, waiting to enter the building. Alice Templeton—such was the young lady’s name—seemed in no way conscious of the ef- fect created by her presence, and she looked on at the bustling crowd with the curious in- , terest of one unaccustomed to scenes of the kind. She was tall and fair, with large dark blue eyes, a refined and sensitively-curved mouth, which, when she smiled. displayed the exquisite regularity and snow-white purity of her teeth. Though dressed in a simple summer costume of the most unpretentious kind, she looked far more impressive and dignified than those about her who were decked out in elaborate toileth. Her. beauty, indeed, was of that character which lends an indeflnable charm zto raiment of the plainest order. Costly jewelry and all the fripperies of fashion would have failed to enhance the attractiveness of Alice. They would have appeared but poor and paltry things side by side with her native loveli- ness. 5 She suddenly became conscious of the fact that a young fellow, whom she had noticed a moment before in a carriage, was now standing close to her, looking earnestly into her facc. , Then the crowd surged up the staircase and parted them, and she entered the gallery, and at once gave her attention to the pictures. Miss Frost made every eflort to keep her- pupils together, and implored Alice, who was the senior pupil present, to aid her in this ob- set. But one by one the young ladies melted away in the crowd, and before long Alice, too, found herself free from the watchful restraint 0!." Miss Frost, and at liberty to roam about the rooms without consulting the wishes of that aternly precise lady. " Alice had not been alone many minutes ,‘when she again noticed the young stranger whose stead Fast gaze had somewhat disconcert. ed her down stairs. 'YOUNG 'GIRL’S , ORDEAL. ’ " " He was with a party of three, whom Alice recognized as the companions with whom she first saw him in the open carriage at the en trance to the academy. ' A tall and stately old gentleman, and a tall and stately lady of perhaps flvo-and-forty, were two of the party upon whom Alice be- stowed but little attention. But a young, proud, and handsome-looking girl who accom- panied them exercised a sort of fascination over her, and she looked again and again at the haughty but beautiful face of this attrac- tive creature. Her young and vivid fancy was soon busy with the probabilities of relationship which existed between this handsome girl and the good-looking young fellow who was at her side. They were clearly not brother and sis- ter; and then, of course, her fancy insisted upon regarding them as lovers. A pang of envy shot through her heart, and turning from this living picture, which her mind had invested with that romantic sig- nificance so dear to the imaginations of girls of her age (she was not quite seventeen), she tried to take an interest in the painted ones which hung upon the walls. She had not been long thus engaged when she was startled by finding that the good-look- ing stranger was at her side, and that his eyes were again riveted upon her face. They were in a retired corner of one of the rooms, where a few of the smaller pictures, which attracted but little attention, were placed. Alice turned, and her eyes met his, and a quick flush mantled in her cheeks. “I beg your pardon,” he said, as he bowed and raised his hat, “but might I venture to place my catalogue at your disposal?” Alice was for a moment confused by this unexpected offer; but quickly regaining her composure, she replied, in a formal tone, “Thank you, but I really cannot avail myself of your kind offer.” “ Perhaps you think me forward for making it?" he said, in evident embarrassment. , “ Well, to be candid with you, I do,” she re- plied, smiling good-humoredly. She found it impossible to preserve a repel- lent attitude when he manifested such unmis- takable evidence of sincere and respectful feel- ing. , “And yet—" he resumed, and then sud- denly paused, and looked at her with an ex- pression of imploring tenderness in his bright, dark eyes. r- “ Do not misunderstand me. No idle motive prompts me to speak to you,” he added, in a low but earnest voice. She hesitated for a. moment; and then, un- able to resist the winning charm of his presence and bearing, accepted the catalogue which he placed in her hand, and proceeded to make use of it.. “Are you fond of country life?" he asked, as‘they moved slowly from picture to picture, both still experiencing those mingled sensa- tions of embarrassment and delight which young people are wont to feel under the cir- cumstances. ' “Yes; very much indeed,” she replied. “Are you fond enough of it to wish the ‘season ’ over, so that you can leave New York and go into the country for the sum— mer?” “ I am not interested in the ‘ season ’ at all, being, as yet, merely a school-girl.” Then she stopped, and after a moment’s pause, added, in a voice of deep feeling, “ I don’t think that I am ever likely to be affected by the arrange~ ments of the fashionable world. But there! I love the country, and hope that circumstances may favor my desire to live in it always.” A quick look of sympathy came into his eyes, which she saw, and then she regretted that she had allowed herself to speak in such an open manner of her position and prospects. “When do you expect to leave town?” he asked, after a short silence. “Before the ende the present month, I hope.” . v ' “ I suppose the prospect of returning home” is very delightful to you?” he said, while smil’ ing with cordial tenderness. She was silent: but her iaee was working ‘ convulsively, in the eflm‘t to conceal emotion! ; excited by his remark. Turning from him, she quickly placed her handkerchief to her eyes. “ I fear that I have given you pain. I am very, very sorry! Forgive me!” he said, in d voice of tremulous sympathy. “ Oh, it was only a passing—” She tried, in ' vain, to continue; she was greatly disturbed, and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from sobbing outright. He gently led her to a seat, and sat down himself by her side, watching her quivering face with eyes brimful of tender feeling. “ I am a very stupid and unfeeling fellow,” he said. “ You are sure to hate me after this!” he added despairingly. “Don’t talk to mel” she replied, in a lovV, sad voice. “ I knew you would hate me! merited a good horsewhipping.” “No, it’s not your fault. In any case, it i! very foolish and weak of me to give way to my feelings.” _ Then after a moment’s silence, she added: “ I suppose you have a very bad opinion of me now?” “On the contrary, you have strengthened the opinion which I first formed on looking at your face.” Alice smiled incredulously. “Yes, I repeat it. I believe you to be. 0 good, and generous, and noble-hearted girll" he continued with great feeling. “I really must not listen to such languagel Recollect that we are strangers!” And 5110 smiled sadly and bent her eyes to the ground. “ I know that we are strangers; but may hope that we shall soon cease to be such? D0 not turn your head away; pray look at m0 with those dear eyes, and tell me that-J She rose abruptly from the seat, and in 9 tone of quiet dignity, said, “ I am to blame for this. Had I resented your familiarity in the first instance, I would not now be subjected to your unwelcome compliments!” And sh. moved away in search of her friends. In a moment he had rejoined her. “Surely you are not going to leave me it! this abrupt way i” he said, in a tone of earnest entreaty. “What do you mean?” she replied, sternly. “Now, don’t be angry with me!” he urged; feelingly. “Well, then, cease to use expressions which are offensive to me. If I were to listen, witb‘ out protest, to the style of conversation which you have seen fit to address to me, I would soon lose all sense of self-respect!” She was clearly determined to show thil agreeable stranger that she would not stand any undue familiarity on his part. “But I find it very difficult to address you in the cold and formal style which people adopt in ordinary intercourse.” “ I don’t see why you should experience any such difficulty.” “But it is a fact none the less. My feelinS’ urge me to be perfectly open with you—to be as sincere and unconventional as it is possible for me to be. Can you not understand that condition of feeling?” = And he watched her face anxiously as b“ said this. “Yes, I can understand it; but I can see 9° reason for it.” Then, after a short pause, 611° added: “Your friends will miss you. return to them.” “I know you want to get rid of me; suppose you have no wish to see me again. not that true!” . “Why should you invite me to say w agreeable things?" And her face brightened up with a rosuifih smile as she thus parried his question, “Then it would be disagreeable to you dismiss me?” Ifeelasifl and I Is tof. x y i [ l l l 4A, “YOUNG GIRL’S ‘\ ogpsAL. “Certainly not, if you ware causing pain to any one else by remaining in my society.” “ Oh! my father and mother are not likely ‘30 miss me for an hour or so,” he replied with a laugh. , “But-—-but—-” Alice hesitated, then with difilculty added, “will not that dark young lady feel your absence?” His face suddenly underwent a change; the bright and joyous expression which had hither- to characterized it vanished, and a look of dis— appointment came in its stead. Her inquiry had evidently caused him great pain. His voice was low and faint as he now spoke her. “ The young lady to whom you have re- ferred will not miss me in the least. Perhaps you will give me an opportunity, an early op- Porrunity, of explaining many things to you Which it is not possible for me to clear up l10W. One favor I must ask of you—to be- lieve that I am sincere in my desire to im- Drove our acquaintance. Will you grant me that?” There was something very gentle and touch. ing in his manner as he preferred this request. “ Yes,” she answered simply, not daring to lift her eyes to hi8. “And now, when will you grant me the Privilege of another interview?" “Really it is not in my power to say.” Alice, in spite of herself, was beginning to feel very nervous and agitated. She could not resist feeling that this hand- some stranger already exercised an influence Over her which made it very difficult to repel his tender advances; but repelled they must be. “ Could you not grant me even a few minutes 01' your time to-morrow?” he urged, with tender ' insistence. “No; it is impossible. We must not meet again,” she replied, in trembling tones. “ Have you no pity for me?” “ You will soon forget me.” “Neverl—neverl” he replied, emphatically. She extended her hand toward him, and he clasped it with convulsive tenderness. . “I shall not relinquish the hope of again meeting you.” As he said this he handed her a beautiful rose which he had been wearing in his coat. “Wear that for one day for my flake,” he added, tenderly. She placed it in the bosom of her dress, glanced at him for a second with eyes as bright 211d tender as his own, and then slowly left im. She had not much difiiculty in finding Miss Frost, who sternly reprimanded her and the Other pupils for the breach of discipline of which they had been guilty. In a short time they left the academy and returned to Miss Frost’s academy, an old- fashioned but roomy brown-stone and brick dWelling in the adjacent neighborhood. Alice now found herself hopelessly involved. in romantic speculations born of this strange . illterview in the academy. The young man, whoever he was, had made ‘8 deep impression upon her heart, and she knew well that as the days went by this 1m~ l I'ession would become stronger in its influence 'ser her life, and would for years to come -’ ’juct her to unwouted suffering. She believed that he was occupying a very 00d position in society, and that his circum- stances generally were of a character which Would renders. match between them impossible. True, she was well connected, the daughter 0! a clergyman, and but a few years ago she enloyed prospects which might, without any exaggeration, have included matrimonial pos- Sibilitis such as those which now seemed so hopelessly beyond her reach. But the death of her father completely changed the aspect of affairs. He left only a couple of, thousand dOllars for the support of herself and her mother, and a portion of this money was now ing employed in giving her an education “well would qualify her to undertake the duties of a governess. This molancholy,change will explain the .‘ emotion which she displayed when the stranger innocently referred to her home. Thoughts of the recent past rushed into her mind, and presented a vivid contrast to pres- ent circumstances. ‘ A few days ago her mother was mistress of a happy home; now she was living alone in dismal solitude in aNOrthern town, waiting for the return of Alice, who was the sole prop of her declining years. Just two days after the eventful visit to the academy, Alice went for a walk with several of the pupils to Central Park. ' While she was proceeding along one of the pathways border- ing the drive, her attention was drawn to a “ four-in-hand ” which was moving slowly by. A number of people stopped to look at it, and exclamations of admiration were freely ex- pressed by several of the bystanders on the beauty of the horses and the excellent finish and style of the equipage generally. “Whose turnout is that?” asked one of the bystanders, referring to this splendidly-ap- pointed drag. “Oh, that’s Banker Woodville’sl His son and heir, Mr. Jocelyn Woodville, is driving,” replied another. - Alice raised her eyes to the box—seat of the drag, and saw the young stranger who had spoken to her in the academy. A bevy of brilliantly-attired ' ladies were with him, but by his side sat the handsome girl whom Alice recognized as the same that had attracted her notice at the academy. The two were evidently very happy and pleased, and Alice noted that he smiled upon his lowly companion, and that she responded to the smile with every appearance of cordial sympathy. ._ Alice moved quickly away, her eyes brim- ming with tears and her lips quivering with suppressed emotion. She was glad to get back to Miss Frost’s again, where, in the privacy of her own room, she gave way unrestrainedly to her pent-up feelings. Before retiring for the night she tenderly pressed the fragrant flower to her lips which she had received from the young stranger. Then she placed the precious token in a. place of safety, meaning to keep it by her always. She knew, of course, that the beautiful rose would soon die, and that its sweet perfume would pass away forever; but she also knew that it would be imperishably associated in her memory with the tender thought of one whom she could never forget. On the next day she received the most un- expected news from her mother in the follow- ing letter: “ I’mnwoon, NEAR Tnov, N. Y. “ MY DEAR CHILD:— “A reat and welcome change—as you will see from t 6 above address—has taken place in our af- fairs. Arthur Templetoni my nephew, has most kindly offered me a home acre; and I' am ahead feeling the benefit of the char; 6 from that comfor less boarding-house where ‘e was so dismal and drea . “ Ill-)0: only heard of my sad position a short time since, as, in obedience to your dear father’s dy' wishes, I havebeen silent on the subject. Somegolgfi friend evidently informed him of our circumstances, and then he immediately took steps to bring me here. “I may as well tell you at once that Arthur is very poor—that is, very poor for one whose ropert is among the finest in the State. it is henvxly mo - aged, and the title—deeds are in the possession of a awyer who advanced is e sums on them to the late Mr. Templeton, your fat er’s brother. Arthur is radually aying off the heavy debt, but I fear that fie has un ertaken a task which may prove even too much for his alience and industry. “We are ob ' ed to live in a small way owing to these circumstances; but Arthur is so kind and at- tentive, that life is very pleasant under his roof. It will be my constant endeavor—as 1 am sure it will be ours—ta do everyihingziu my power to console anti comfort him under his severe trials. “1 have written to Miss Frost on the subject of our immediate withdr mail from the seminary. gay lose no time in leaving New York, as I am very anxious to see you again. “ Ever your affectionate mother, " FLORENCE Tsnpnn'ros. " “ P. 8.-—-Arthur sends his sincerest regards to you. Two days after the receipt of this letter, Alice was on her way to join her mother, who awaited her coming so impatiently. ' . \- I A new life was now before her; but she felt that whateVer changes the future might bring, it could not obliterate the tender memory of the past. CHAPTER II. a PROUD nan. PINEWOOD, the old home of the Templeton ' family, was a fine old~fashioned-looking man- sion of Gothic design, with a heavy curtain of ivy falling in dark green folds over its massive walls. Spacious grounds surrounded the house, and although they were at the present time neither Well kept up or highly cultivated, yet the place was noted for miles around forits picturesque _ loveliness and romantic situation. A few words will suffice to explain the posi- tion in which Arthur Templeton found the es- tate when he succeeded to it on the death of his father, just eight years before. The late Mr. Templetonhad borrowed large sums of money, to speculate with, from a Mr. Murdock, a lawyer practicing in the neighbor- ing town of Troy. Arthur was under the impression that his father had repaid the greater part of ,this money, especially as no mention was made of it in the will, nor did his father speak of it as a liability when conferring with him on matters of business a few days before his death. On entering into possession of the estate, however, he found that Mr. Murdock held two bonds for a sum of eighty thousand dollars, and that against this loan the lawyer held the title deeds of the Pinewood property. Arthur was at the mercy of Mr. Murdock, fer if the lawyer pressed for a settlement the property would have to be surrendered to him at the expiration of ten more years. Thereupon Arthur Templeton at once agreed to hand over the revenues of the estate to the lawyer, with the exception of the house and land around it, and a wooded district of several hundred acres. , Then this able and energetic representative of one of the oldest Knickerbocker families in the State started a lumbenmill in the town of Troy, and worked as assiduously and pertine— ciously as if he had been brought up to the business. This step alone stamped Arthur Templeton as a man of rarely vigorous character, which he soon proved himself to be. , He retired altogether from the society of his former friends and acquaintances, deeming it unwise to hold intercourse with people who were much better 03 than himself, and with whom, therefore, he could not mix on terms of equality. ' He was determined to devote his life to one object, via, the saving of the family estates from the ravenous clutch of Mr. Murdock. Pleasure, friends, everything, in fact, which makes life bright and pleasant, especially for the young and ardent, he had resolved upon sacrificing for the purpose which we have just mentioned. Eight years of incessant work and worry,,. for his business engagements entailed both, had told upon himin many ways. His face bore the traces of trouble, and looked rather wan and pinched at times; but. never- ‘ theless, it was a face that attracted admiration, for itwas full of character and high-toned individuality. His eyes were the most remarkable feature of his face. sort of electric force which gave his glance a certain penetrating quality not always Wel- comed by those at whom leveled. He had the strange power of fixing people, as it were, by a glance; they felt powerless under the quick, lightning-like flash of his splendid eyes. Tall and lithe of build was Arthur Temple- 'ton, and with a frame that was well adapted to give effect to the nervous energy of his mind. ‘ . 3. Large, dark orbs, charged with a 4 “A "YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. _._..-v" The arrival of his aunt, and more recently . his cousin Alice, had a good effect on him. He, felt that he was getting harsh, and crusty, and morose; and the society of women has 9. won- derfnlly softening and soothing effect under such circumstances. He was already deeply attached to his aunt, and he thought that Alice was an agreeable . irl, and liked her; but as yet he had not suf- ient time to say whether she was worthy of any higher feeling of regard. Mere good looks were thrown away on him; so that Alice’s beauty, in his eyes, was nothing in her favor. Such was Arthur Templeton of Pinewood, at the periodin which we have become interested in his history. . Alice had now been nearly afortnight under her cousin’s roof, and during that period she had gone daily to a farm which was about a mile and a half from the house, for the pur- pose of acquiring a knowledge of butter-mak- ing and of other useful branches of dairy- farming. Arthur was privately amused at this, though he could not help admiring the motive which prompted Alice to try and help him by looking after his interests at Pinewood. He was about to leave the house one glorious July morning, on his usual visit to Troy, when Alice met him at the door. She was looking very radiant and happy, and he could not re. sist admiring the youthful freshness and beauty of her face as she raised her eyes to his and smiled with ingenuous cordiality. “ Are you going by the farm?” she asked, as she gently laid her hand upon his arm. ” Yes, Alice.” “Then I’ll go with you if you don’t mind, Arthur.” He willingly assented, and they started at once on their way. “ Well, how do you like life at Pinewood?" he asked, after they had been walking for a ' :few minutes. “ I am Very happy indeed, thanks to you, cousin Arthur,” she replied, with tender sincer- ity. ' “I Don’t you find it very dull and monotonous here, Alice? Come, speak candidly to me.” “ I certainly do not find it either dull or monotonous. I have never enjoyed myself so much anywhere as I do here. And then mam- ma is so pleased. That alone would content me.” . “ But surely, like all girls, you desire a cer- tain amount of variety; and there is no variety at Pinewood. A dance occasionally, picnics, garden-parties, with the usual complement of ' attractive and admiring young men; these are things which, I am sure, you must miss greatly.” _ “I assure you, Arthur, that I do not miss them. . I have never been accustomed to much soc’ial gayety, and I have never felt the need of it.’ “Well, well, it is a good thing to be able to reconcile ourselves to a humdrum mode of life. when no ether is possible. Perhaps one of these days,” he added, cheerily, “we may be able to make Pinewood a brighter and happier place than it is now.” “For your Sake, dear Arthur, I hope so. Not that mother and I find Pinewood at all gloomy.” She stopped abruptly, for his dark eyes were fixed upon her, and seemed to read her most secret thoughts. “You are good-natured enough to try and ,, conceal the truth from me.” Noticing'her confusion he added, in a gen. tier tone: “ But there! We’ve had enough of the sub- ject, Alice. Let us talk of something else.” For a few minutes she was silent. His glancehad frightened her; it seemed to dart into her mind like an arrowy gleam of light. How different, she thought, from the soft ' and tender radiance of the dark eyes which had looked so imploringly into hers on the occasion of her visit to the academy! Ah, she would never, never forget the meaning con— veyed by those tender glances! “ Do you walk into Troy every day, cousin i” she asked, when she had recovered from her confusion. “Yes; every day.” “How many miles is it?” “About five—ten miles there and back.” “Bless me! No wonder that you are tired in the evening, Arthur!” she said, in a. tone of tender sympathy. He looked at her gratefully, but said notho mg. “I think,” she continued, in a strain of hopeful sympathy, “that we shall be very successful at home this year. I have been looking carefully into matters, and I have already made several improvements.” “ Ah!” he exclaimed, as a smile passed over his haggard face. “Oh, yes, indeed I have; and I mean to give my whole attention to the farm now! I’m so anxious to be of Some use to you, cousin Arthur.” This little outburst of feeling touched him deeply. It suggested to his mind the possibil- ity of nobler qualities in Alice than he had "previously deemed her capable of possessing. Could such a girl be as wise as she was beauti- ful? He dismissed the thought, after a moment’s reflection, as utterly impossible. “But you must be careful not to overwork yourself, Alice,” he said, after a short silence. “Now you’re laughing at me, Arthur,” she replied, in a tone of disappointment. “Laughing at you, Alice! Heaven forbid! I have not met with so many sympathizers in my troubles as to undervalue kindly expressions such as you have uttered.” There was no doubt of his sincerity, and she looked up at him now that she saw his eyes had lost their piercing look and were suffused with tenderness. In a few minutes they reached the farm, and having looked through the place, and given in- structions. to Alice not to tire herself, Arthur bade her good-morning and resumed his jour- ney. On arriving at Troy, he found, much to his surprise, that Mr. Murdock had called to see him, and had left word that he would probably look in again in the course of the day. He had a deep-rooted dislike to the lawyer, which, however, circumstances compelled him to conceal as much as possible. Murdock was the only man that he really feared, and he feared him because he knew well that he was no match for the lawyer, whose ingenuity and cunning were indeed remark- able. On hearing of the lawyer’s visit, he was im- mediately beset with fears as to its object. The payments on account of the mortgage were made with unfailing regularity, therefore it could not have anything to do with that matter. What, then, was it! His cogitations had proceeded thus far, when Murdock himself appeared. The lawyer was a man of stout build, with a fat, ruddy face, heavy jaws, and a perfectly bald head. Save for a certain furtive twinkle which lurked in his eyes, which were small and green of hue, you would never have suspected the unbounded capacity for cheating which the man possessed. Murdock was the confidential legal adviser of nearly all the wealthy residents in the neighborhood, which was ample proof of the ability with which he managed to impose on people. At the same time, he was a sound lawyer; and so long as he served them well, it was only natural that his clients should have a high opinion of him. As he sat down now in Templeton’s private emce, and leisurely rubbed his bald head with a silk handkerchief, he presented an aspect of amiability which might have deceived any- body. “Well, Mr. Murdock, what can I do for you!” inquired Templeton, in as friendly a voice as he could assume. ' “Well, it’s a small matter, and I have 1’. l dcubt that, with your usual good sense, If y » 31 will allow me to say so, we shall soon arm? it.” ' 1 The lawyer spoke in quite a soothing 70 _, which was usually very effective in lullinl I ; suspicion; but in this instance it failed to do, , so. ' l i “ What is it!" said Templeton, in his shiler tones. “ You might remember that in your fatbfir lifetime the right of way through a portion 0 ,‘Z the Templeton plantations was claimed by a” then representative of the Vernon family! r whose estate borders yours. Your few“! whose adviser I then was, refused to acknowi ledge the claim; and after spending a lOt ° money in litigation, the suit was dropped, a“ the claim fell into abeyanca Now it is aha“t to be revived by Miss Vernon, the pl'efien representative of the family; and as I am 80" ing as her adviser, I thought that, under 6 ing circumstances, if I first mentioned the matter to you, some friendly understanding might be arrived at.” “I will come to no friendly understanding on the subject, Mr. Murdoch! I will not 539‘ rifice any of those rights for which, as you know, I am paying a dear price l” replied Tem' pleton, with indignant emphasis. “ I am sorry to hear that, for I should res“; like to see the business settled out of court, ‘ observed the lawyer, with apparent sincerity! “No doubt, no doubt,” replied Arthur, as rose from his chair and moodin walked about the room. Pausing in front of Murdock, who had bee” watching him closely with his small green eyes! as a cat might watch a mouse, he added: "May I ask you, Mr. Murdock, if you 8P7 prove of Miss Vernon‘s attempt to- revive this dispute?” “ Personally—mind you, personally—I would much rather that she had not attempted to do so; but, of course, as her agent and adviser legal matters, I must fulfill instructions, hOW' ever painful.” “Could you not use your influence to di“ suade her from proceeding with the matter?” Mr. Murdock shook his head and replied: “ Not the least use, I can assure you; but —-and he looked up hopefully at Templeton/ “if you will speak to her yourself on the sub' jack” “ Whatl” shouted the young man in a veil” of anger. “She might be willing, for the sake of old times,” continued the lawyer, not heading tb9 interruption, “ to let the matter drop.” “Miss Vernon is the last person in the world of whom I should ask a favor!” Then, in 6” altered tone of; voice, he added: “ Now we un‘ derstand one another, Mr. Murdock. I’ll nol surrender my right. And tell your client W I mean to fight to the bitter end?” “ All right, Mr. Templeton—all right. I’m afraid that you’ll regret your resolve one 0 these days. Even if you are successful, it wfl cost ‘you a large sum.” Arthur was silent. The lawyer knew won that it was only by great diligence and hard work that he was able to meet his present lia' bilities, and a costly lawsuit must necessaril ruin him. ‘ “ Well, you are determined to fight?” he asked, with quite a cordial smile. “Yes,” simply replied Templeton. i0, “ Then we’ll open operations in a day or two i by breaking down your fences—merely as 3 matter of form, you know—and then you can take proceedings against us, and we’ll our claim in the ordinary course.” “Very well,” simply replied Arthur. The lawyer rose, bade Templeton good’ morning in the most affable way, and then left him. This intelligence was almost too trying for the brave heart of Arthur Templeton. After striving for eight years‘ with incessant energy to release his patrimony from the grip of Mn!" dock, he now saw that all ‘Q-s. hisoflonswould‘mw .‘ .mA YOUNG'GIRL’S oRDEAh. 7 , ' - 5- F lr9ndered fruitless by Miss Vernon‘s unneigh- ' - ,rly conduct. To carry on an expensive law- in“: and at the same time pay Murdock, was 1mPfissible. What was he to do? To give in 0 Miss Vernon would be to surrender,-in part, that Which it was the object of his life to pre- serve in its integrity—via, the Pinewood prop- ertY- And yet, if he tried to defend his rights, he Would probably be beggared in a very Short time. ‘ As he reflected on the subject, his mind re- vex'ted to the happy past, when he lived on tennis of tender sympathy with Sybil Vernon. d his thoughts were evidently of a painful miture, stirring up memories which filled his earl: with a passion of regret; so that, brave and high-spirited man though he was, he “ambled like a frightened child, and tears, the . 35 he had shed since his father’s death, came Into his eyes and trickled down his harassed- Iookiug face. He remained at the office later than usual, and then started for Pinewood, which he did “03 reach until nearly ten o’clock. “ Oh, my dear Arthur, you do look ill!” ex- claimed Alice, as she met him in the hall. “It’s nothing, Alice; I’m merely tired after 8 day. I’ll go to my own room at once. Good-night.” And then he looked into the parlor, where Mrs. Templeton was sitting, and bfide her good-night also, and then retired to own room. “Oh, Sybil, Sybil l” he‘ cried, as he flung himself into an easy-chair with a groan of de- spair. “ Proud, haughty, unfeeling girl!” he continued, “ to take such an ignoble advantage 9‘ my unhappy lot!” And the night wore on, and still he sat there mmmuning with his distraught soul; nordid be "main the relief of sleep until the dawning Iight of another day had spread itself over the eastern skies. CHAPTERIII. “ wn mnn'r AGAIN." ON the following day, after a hurried break- Bt, Arthur left the dining-room and retired his study. The haggard and anxious expres- ill0n of his face had caused deep concern to his aunt and cousin, but they had refrained from rHerring to it in his presence, fearing thatany s)anathetic inquiry even might have given im pain. ' - “ I can see plainly that Arthur’s mind is Greatly disturbed,” remarked Mrs. Templeton, D a low voice to her daughter. She was a pale, amiable—looking woman, with lue eyes, and an abundance of hair which was inmost perfectly White, and which she wore in heat folds under her mourning cap. “I noticed it last night, mother,” replied Alice, sadly. “ I wish that it was in my power t-0 be of some assistance to him.” “ You can see, Alice, that he is not a man to 38k others to share his troubles,” continued the Widow, reflectively. “Yes, and I think that it is a pity that he Should be so rescrved when peeple are longing t0 comfort him.” “ Apart from his business worries, I suspect "hat he has other troubles which he would Laturally keep to himself.” , “All!” exclaimed Alice, looking inquiriugly Into her mother’s face. “ Your poor father, his unc‘e, told me that at one time it was expected that he would have gained the hand of one of the richest girls in tibis part of the State—a Miss Vernon, whose estate is in our immediate neighborbOOd. But the match. it ever it existed, was broken off, and Miss Vernon is about to become the wife 015 a young man, the son of a New York banker, believe.” . " Perhaps that has something to do With Arthur’s unhappiness.” And having said this, 'Alice became moodily silent. , Suddenly she arose from her chair and walk- ed to the window, where she remained for a few minutes gazing meditativer at the scene .Outside'. Then she turned, and approaching her mother, fell upon her knees at the widoW’s feet. “You will not be angry with me, dearest mother, for what I am going to say ?" “ Angry with you, Alice l” exclaimed Mrs. Templeton, in a tone of surprise. “No, I’m sure you won’t. Well, it is this: I should like to earn my own living; to go out as a governess somewhere. Arthur is poor, and I am a burden upon him!” and she tender— ly clasped her mother’s white hand and kissed it affectionately. “Nonsense, child! Are you not going to look after the interests of the farm?” “Ah! no one knows better than Arthur that that was a childish plan of mine. He good- naturedly approved of it; but I think that he regards me as a silly girl for having thought of such a thing. No, mother, I must go to work in earnest if I would be of any use to you and to him.” “But, my dear child, I’m sure that Arthur would be deeply offended if you were to show such small appreciation of his kindness as to desire to leave Pinewood." “ Oh! I shouldn’t say anything to him about it, mother. I could go away quietly, and you could explain matters to him afterward.” “ Alice,” said Mrs. Templeton, after a short silence, “I must have a little time to consider this proposal of yours. At present I am not prepared to come to any decision. Here is Arthur, dearl” And Alice rose to her feet as her cousin en- tered the room. “ Now, Alice,” he said, with an assumed cheerfulness of tone that did not impose upon her, “ I‘m about to start for Troy. Would you like to walk a part of the way with me?” She gladly assented, and in a few minutes they left the house together. “ What a lovely morning!” she exclaimed, as they moved down the avenue under the leafy trees, through the branches of which the sunlight darted in brilliant rays. On either side stretched away the extensive grounds, here and there dotted with clumps of trees or with patches of shrubs and great beds of coleus which flamed in the sunlight like masses of fire. ‘1‘ Certainly Pinewood is a delightful spot,” she added, while looking up into his face with inquiring tenderness. “ Yes, it is, Alice, if they’d only let us re- main here,” he replied, in a tone of bitter- ness. After a moment’s pause, she said, while gently touching his arm: “Arthur, do you think that it is kind to treat us in this way i” “ What do you mean, Alice?” he replied, without looking at her. “ I mean that your silence on the subject of your fresh troubles is very painful, very—” She hesitated and turned her head aside to hide her emotion. “ How on earth could you tell that I have met with fresh troubles?” “I saw it by your face the moment. that you entered the house last night.” “ Then if you’xe found me out, I may as well confess that a new trial is in store for me, and I’ll tell you all about it, if you promise faithfully not to mention the matter to your mother. She is getting on in years now, Alice, and the less she sees or hears of trouble the better.” This unexpected manifestation of confidence in her, coupled as it was with such tender sympathy for her mother, touched Alice deep- ly, and for a moment or two she could not answer him. Regaining her composure with an effort, she said: “It is very good of you, Arthur, to take me into your confidence, and I will be careful not to abuse it in any way.” In a few words he told her of the claim put forward by Miss Vernonhand explained that the legal proceeding would be very costly and might involve him in grave difficulties. “ Miss Vernon must be a very quarrelsomc creature, Arthur,” she remarked, when he had concluded. “No; I can’t say that she is. Sybil—I mean Miss Vernon—imagines, I suppose, that she is justified in claiming a right of way through our grounds, and is determined to prove her right.” “ But surely she cannot know the price which you may Lave to pay on account of her deter- mination?” “ Why should she trouble her head about that?” he inquired, looking at her with that swift glance which seemed to penetrate the h- nermost recesses of her mind. Alice grew confused, and was afraid to look: at him. “Perhaps,” he added, after a short pause, “ you have heard that at one time I was smit- ten with Miss Vernon’s charms?” Alice bowed. “It was a boyish dream merely, Alice, out of which I was rudely awakened. Miss Vernon is a proud and wealthy girl, and Arthur Ten- pleton is a poor man.” And a forced smile played about his mouth. as he said this. ’ “Not at all proud man, of course,” remarked Alice, with a roguish laugh. l “ Just proud enough, Alice, to preserve him~ self from suflering any bumiliations at the hands of Sybil Vernon,” he replied, in a‘voicei of suppressed feeling. They had passed the gates of the lodge, and were now well on the high-road tawm'd Troy. An embarrassing silence had follmved Ar- thur’s last remark, attributable mainly to Alice, who somehow or other felt that this ood- fldential chat with her cousin had created an understanding between them, to which, at present, she certainly had no desire to give the least encouragement. , , Her fears in this direction were enhanced when he said, in a voice which betrayed much feeling: , “ It is a delightful change for me to have some one near to whom I can confide my troubles. Do you know, Alice, thatthere is not another person in the world, I believe, whose sympathy I would care to invitees! have invited yours?” And he glanced at her tell-tale face with great tenderness while. speaking. “Perhaps if you were not quite so re- ticent with others, Arthur, painful misunder- standings might be obviated—with Miss Ver» non, for instance.” “I tell you, child,” he said, emphatically»! “that Miss Vernon is One of the proudest girln ' breathing, and would have spurned me as a coward and a sneak if I had disturbed her with stories of my trials and troubles!” “Is she so selfish as not to feel for those who are suffering?” “I would not like to say that, Alice.” “But if she knew that——” “ I know what you are about to say, Alice, and I must repeat, once and for all, that I would not for the world let Miss Vernon im-fi agine that she had frightened me into submiso sion. No; anything but that—anything but that!” “ It seems a pity that two people who might be good friends should be irrevocably alienated, when a few words of kindly explanation would probably clear up all misunderstandings between them.” “ We should never have been good friends, Alice,” he replied, with a sad smile. “, How- ever,” he added, with forced gayety, “ the past is dead and gone now, with all its hopes . and fearsl” “ Perhaps the future has much happiness in store for you, Arthur.” “ We will hope for the best at any rate. DO you know, Alice,” he continued, while looking at her tenderly, “ that I fancy that We shall get on famously together—eh?” ‘ “ Yes, I hope so, I’m sure,” she re not daring to raise her eyes to his. ‘ /" z»; :7- «mustang; 7, . (mu m . ' 1'1: §n*;.y. Mme-4: 2:81”. s’e —.‘ ~ you .,,w.1wosi,_., . . myuigmeaim”: ,. o '5 Arthur, that I’ shall he, of ceto you; butl will deny best my: best.” 3 ‘ ‘ ' v To know that you are anxious to help me, ., y comforting. For the first time now for the, years I am experiencing the delight of fimpsthetic intercourse. Ah, what a barren one is without sympathy 1” gthen' be stopped and pointed out to her a sly mansion, standing in the midst of ex- .tfiéfitive grounds. ' ’ ' That is Miss Vernon’s home. It is a in] place, and the Vernon property is hi the most valuable about here. The . v _ is called Cberton Abbey.” '“e‘y'hadmot resumed their walk many ,_ nwwhen-Alice noticed the figure of a g man who was coming toward them, " edby xseveral dogs, which were gam- m ghouls; the road. v they drew near, Alice thought that the rah‘éeflf this person was familiar to her, creche had time to collect her thoughts , Tsubject, he stopped in front of them, old his hand out to Arthur. new, Templetonl I’m glad to see you 1" id, in a'cordial tone. tissues nearly overcome. @htlfigfl of this academy now stood be- Eefi-s‘but,’ fortunately, his ey should he be)” inquired Alice, ’in a ‘ ’ . , he isabout to become the husband gernen.” , ‘ ' : latched her cousin for support. Then , _ deadlypale, and nearly fainted in his "3‘94. a yes better?” he inquired, when she I’m all right again,” she re- with used smile. . to accompany her back to Pine. feiliich she was about to return; but dhim that there was no necessity was the hadquite recovered her strength Wainedrthat the attack was due to the " _ heat, and was in no way attributable _ . ageise. '- Y , , "V satisfied him, and tenderly bidding and—morning,” he resumed his wa’ k 1‘ Troy,_while she slowly retraced her , ly entered the grounds of Charter: would not have moved forward it he ’ fiber way.“ She was anxious above to avoid him for the future. His ‘whrd her had been reprehensible in degree, and had she been imposed yj serious extent by this perfldious it wbuld probably have broue ht sting was mere child’s play. ‘ dnqt-help feeling. angry with her- , her ‘a to” academy, and forbaying ‘ if, oaths wasfa‘sincere and-truth- to” bérprido ' « ' ro— minim j ' "can I her) compared to which her pres- . _ , , I ' hails grinned to him When Wad" stranger. mews to the new ’ t: creationism or. ‘ Thus her mind:- new dwelt upon this ~alternately blaming herself and condemning the other; and yet the thought of what might have been had he answered to her first im- pression occasionally darted through her mind, and revivad for a moment the sweet dreams which had followed the interview in New York. , She was startled from her reverie by the sudden barking of dogs in one of the fields bordering the road; and in another minute J»c:»lyn bounded over the hedge and stood boo fore her. _ He raised his hat and bowed. She brushed past him with hasty step. In a moment he was by her side, looking ' with tender inquiry into her face. “Don’t you remember me?” he asked. She stoppé’d and confronted him. “Yes, I do; but I'm surprised that you should take advantage of my present d less position to force yourself 'upon me! efense— It you dare to speak to me again, my cousin, Arthur Templeton, shall hear of it i” “ You wrong me cruelly, Miss Tom for that, I presume, is your name. pleton, I have never ceased to think of cur meeting in New York, and to cherish the hope'that we would meet again. Do you believe me?” “ No; I do not.” “ Why should you doubt my word now? You told :e in New York that you believed me to be a truthful man. What hove done to forfeit your confidence?" I since “ You are are/a. coward to remind me of the folly of which I was guilty when I permitted you to speak to me in New York!” “ By Heaven, you wrong me cruellyl”he cried out, in great distress. “ I am not ard, nor yet a liar l” p “ That will do. Mr. Wood'villel” said with haughty abruptness ‘ a 00W- Alice, “If you have’a spark of gentlemanly feeling left, you will cease to molest me!” He turned Iromher with a hasty mov and she saw him placing his hands face. I ement, to his She walked swiftly forward, and soon reached Pinewood, feeling sick at heart after the stormy interview. ' "—"‘"T|"' CHAPTER IV. A BETROTHAL or CONVENIENCE. IT, was a bright, sunny afternoon early days of August, and Mrs. Woodvi in the lie and her son were seated in the drawing-room of the banker’s palatial summer residenw, chat ting on the subject of the latter’s engagement, with Sybil Vernon. 1 Mrs. Woodville—with whose appearance the reader is already familiar—was evidently not in the best of tempers, and her voice we a sharp and decisive as she now addressed her son. “ It seems in the last degree foolish 01 you, Jocelyn, to give us both so much ann over this matter. sense ought to teach you by this time t oyanco Surely, your own good hat we are not likely to give way to your wishes when they ate oppOSed to the interests and honor of the family.” Jocelyn looked anxious and distressed, and it was evident that his mother’s strictures were causing him pain. “‘But you seem to forget altogether that Sybil's wishes have to be consnlted. and “ SybiPs wishes ave in perfect accor __n d with ours,” interrupted 11:8 mother, abruptly. “ Are you perfectly sure of that!” “Perieotly surel” “ Well, I suppose, then, I must-— Oh, it’s very hard, mother, to be treated likethisl" be exc aimed, as he rose from his chair and walked moodaly about the room. " Hard! Isl become (helm . st martini Instant , “ . “l s it, State!" I « r \ then, such a. painful‘thing to ad of one of the wealthiest I 3 the,» 1“ «Certainly, she is very dear to hn/ * with a bunch of brilliant flowersin'herbow glancing» * . ' ~ friend and companion l” ‘ “If she is very dear to you now, even that “sense, rely upon it that love of the -: h set kind will spring up between you when are married.” ' Mrs. Woodville had scarcely finished a ing when her husband entered the room. : “I am speaking to Jocelyn about Sybil V‘ . non,” she added, turning to him. “‘The very subject upon which I desire' have a few words with him. Come, Jocel is the marriage to take place this month next, eh?” ‘ Banker Woodville was a man who rare} failed to have his own way with people. Proud)?i haughty and arbitrary, he could not toler opposition to his wishes from anybody; seemed to think that it was the duty of hum creatures generally to submit to him, and ted so with good grace, too, if they would esca incurring his enmity and anger. “I” have already explained that I am p pared to fulfill my promise—that is, it By Vernon is agreeable. ' I can’t very well mart!- her without her consent,” replied his son, wh mood had changed to an attitude of sull defiance. . . “ She has never placed any difficulties in th‘, way, to my knowledge. Sybil has neVer fail? ' to obey the wishes of her old guardian. " dare say she has a will of her own, but she he! never been guilty of the folly of opposing it mine,” said Mr. Woodville, pompously. “ It would be a good thing if her exam were followed by your son, .WOodville,” Oi," served his wife, with a reproving Vglahce-t their son, who was standing in the shadow of bay-window, moodily contemplating the sun scene outside. - , “I would have you know, Jocelyn, once for al , that my wishes in this matter 113055 govern your conduct. I will put down W opposition with unrelenting severity.” " And the banker grew very red in the when he'said this, and coughed several timid! as if his temper was choking him. “I think, with all respect,” said Jocelyn, he turned and faced his parents, “that yonill',o both very unreasonable.” ' .\ , L “ Unreasonable!” exclaimed his fathe’: angrily. “How dare you tell us anything. the kind, sir—I say, how dare you?” ' And be fretted and fumed about the room ill a state of great excitm'ent. . “ Well,vall I can say is this— that within a, reasonable time, it nothing unforeseen, half pens, I will be prepared to give eflect to you? wishes.” ' ' p, ' ~I He was calm and firm, and bad evidenflf weighed his words carefully. ' " ' q “Jocelyn, I’ll tell you what Ichall doll in?“ continue to defy me—” - ’ ,. “I’m' not defying you,” interpolated his 805.5 “ Yes, you are, sir! [Don’t contradict I'll "—‘and the banker grew very impress! . now—“ deprive you of your present liber allowance, sell the yacht and the racing stud! and compel you to live in strict retirement Iii" til you come to your senses.” r . v “7 “You can do as you please,” replied. lb? other, shrugging his shoulders with eXpreaBiV9 indifference. » V . 1 At this moment a servant entered the and announced, “Miss Vernon.”_ ' h ' ' “ “I’m glad to see you, my dearll’ said M15 Woodville, embracing the heiress, whose r and imperious beauty was seen to portend?" to—day in a light crrauitinted costqu h, Having exchanged greetings with the fit x she said, “ What on earth is the'meaniBK-‘l‘ this fuss abOut Mr. Templeton’s , right of way through iii”. , , ' ~ ' , And she looks at 3dr. A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. 'ficting on your behalf—I instructed Murdock to take proceedings in vindication of your right, which had been in abeyance quite long enough. But, if you remember, I spoke on the subject to you some time ago, and we agreed upon this step.” “Yes, you did; but I didn’t quite under- stand the question, my dear sir. It seems to me to be a questionable proceeding, seeing that 1‘. Templeton is in such difliculties already. Iwouldn’t like our neighbors to think that I Was taking advantage of his present position to crush hini, as it were.” She tried to smile, but it was a. faint effort, {ind died away in a nervous quivering of the Ips. . “My dear Sybil, don’t distress yourself as t0 the nature of these proceedings. It is a per- fectly legitimate endeavor to recover rights a~i>pertaining to the Vernon property, which Were unjustly—I might say dishonestly—ap- tgropriated by the Templetons in times gone 7, The banker’s mind was clearly made up on the subject, and it was hopeless to expect any mnount of reasoning could effect a change in is opinion. Miss Vernon, however, was evidently deter~ mined to give expression to her views, and she resumed the subject after a. moment’s silence. “I quite agree with you, Mr. Woodville, that we should stand up for our rights; but, in this instance, don’t you think that it would only be fair to wait until Mr. Templeton is in a position to defend himself?” “A position to defend himself?” repeated the other. “You little know Arthur Templeton, 01‘ you wouldn’t say that! Why, when Mur— dock offered to settle the matter in a friendly Way, he refused the offer in the most positive t"firms, and defied us!” _ “ He is very proud, I know,” observod Sybil, 1n a low voice. “Yes, he is; and it’s time some one in the neighborhood undertook the task of humbling his pride! In some respects, indeed, he has fallen very low, and has brought disgrace on an honored name i” “ Has he?” said Miss Vernon, in a tone of in- dignant inquiry. “ Why, don’t, you know that he has become a Workingman—a lumber dealer, in fact?” “Yes, I know that in his honest efforts to I‘Edeem his property he has become a working- man. Surely there is nothing to be ashamed of in that?” And, with a smile, she looks at Mr. Woodville’s grave face. “ He would have acted in a far more digni- fied manner it he had relinquished his property, and retired to some secluded corner of the World, where his poverty would be unobserved. 0 make a parade of his difficulties, and to bring discredit on the set to which he belongs y becoming a common day-laborer, is a de- Dlorable instance of degeneracy.” “ Undoubtedly i” chimed in his wife, with emphatic suavity. ’ “What is society coming to if its members cannot act with greater dignity under their 11list’ortunesi I say, what is society coming to?’ continued the ear] with impressive gravity. .“ To its senses, I suppose l” quietly observed 135 Vernon. “Sybil, that last remark of yours savors of Elgbeianism!” said the banker with awful sofem- l y. “ I must say, that I’m inclined to agree with sybil about this right—of— way business, ” re— Infil‘ked Jocelyn, joining in the conversation for the first time. “It’s my duty to see after Sybil’s interests, not yours. It will be your duty to do so ere 0')8‘, I hope.” This retort silenced Jocelyn, and the subject was then dropped. . D the course of half an hour Miss Vernon :3“? the Woodvilles’ residence—The Towers—- °°°mpanied by. Jocelyn. ' Or a little time they walked on in silence, experiencing a sensation of embarrass- Which was anovel feeling to grow up .3.“ _ , ‘ a, , “lent. \ . (hand, and he refused it. between them after a close companionship of several years. They were both keenly conscious of each other’ thoughts at the moment, and both knew well that they were on the verge of along- deferred understanding. “ Sybil, I have something very important to say to you,” remarked the young man in a nervous voice. “Can you guess what it is?” he added, looking inquiringly at her. “No, Jocelyn,” she replied, with a tell-tale blush. He stopped; and they both stood facing one another under the shelter of a sturdy, gnarled oak tree. “ Sybil,”-—he paused, and held his hand toward her—“ Sybil, best and truest of girls, will you be my wife?” She gently clasped his hand in hers, and said: “ Jocelyn, must we, then, cease to be friends?” “ We must cease to be friends, dearest, only to become lovers.” He bent toward her, and their lips met in a kiss of mutual tenderness; and then they drew apart, and slowly resumed their walk. “The old people Were getting so disagree- able with me that I could not put off asking- you any longer. I know very well that you are making a great sacrifice, but what could I do? I spared you as long as I could.” “Yes; I know that your parents have suffered a good deal of anxiety, Jocelyn, about our intentions, and for their sakes I am glad that you have spoken.” “My father wishes the marriage to take place in the course of a month or two. Will that suit you?” “Yes,” she replied, simply. “Have you seen Arthur Templeton’s cousin? I’m told that she is Very beautiful,” she added, after a pause. “ Ye—yes,” gasped Jocelyn, with guilty hesitancy. “Where have you seen her?” she asked, while watching him narrowly. “ Oh! I saw her with Templeton on the Troy road a little time back.” “ Were you introduced to her?” “Dear me, no, Sybil! Templeton behaved like a bear to me on that very occasion, and if I can get an opportunity of paying him back in his own coin, I shall do so.” “I’m surprised to hear that Templeton has been rude to you, seeing that you have been such good friends. But, Jocelyn, if we con. sider the man’s troubles, we must pity him, and make allowances for his displays of temper." “That’s all very well, Sybil; but a man’s troubles do not justify him in insulting an old friend with wanton cruelty.” “No; certainly not. But Templeton’s pride spoils him; at least, it is the great blemish of his character. And yet I, for one, cannot help admiring the stern integrity of the man which enables him to dispense with friends and to defy the great social forces of which your father is our most influential exponent.” “I‘ll certainly tell the governor that you have been laughing at him i” he said, with a good-humored smile. She tapped him playfully on the arm with her parasol, and then said, laughingiy: “I suppose you annoyed Templeton by making eyes at his pretty cousin?” “ Not at all. I simply offered him my He will never have the opportunity of doing so again!” remarked the young man bitterly. " Perhaps he is sorry now, Jocelyn.” “You seem very anxious to find excuses for him, Sybil !” he remarked, in an injured tone. She made no reply, but a sad smile flitted over her face, and a look of tender sorrow came into her dark eyes. They had now entered the grounds bf Cher- ton Abbey, and were walking, in silence, in the deep shadow of an extensive plantatio of fire, which bordered the confineaof _ ur Templeton’s property. Suddenly a loud crashing noise attracted their attention, which was almost immediately followed by voices raised in angry dispute. In another moment they came upon a group of men, who were struggling violently near the palings which ran between Miss Vernon’s and Arthur Templeton’s grounds. One man, whom they could not recognise at the moment, was striving to repel several op- ponents, and the courage and strength be dis- played excited at once the sympathy and ad- : miration of Sybil and her companion. , Before they had time to move forward, his gallant fellow was felled by a cruel blow, and a groan of pain broke from him as he went with a. dull thud to the ground. - They rushed forward. Sybil bent over the prostrate man. ' “Good heavens!” she shrieked; “it’s Ar- thur l—Arthur I” And then she gently raised his head into her lap, and tried to check the blood which was flowing from a wound in his face. . The men; present explaineu that they had had instructions to remove the palings,andzthat Mr. Templeton resisted them, and by his man- 'her and bearing compelled them to use force to effect their purpose. Jocelyn ordered them away, and then joined Sybil, whose efforts to restore Arthur Temple- ton to consciousness were now rewarded with success. x “ Is that you, Alice dear?” he said, locking in a dazed way at Sybil.” ‘ “No, Arthur, it is your old playmate and companion, Sybil Vernon.” ‘- He struggled to rise, and after a moment or ~ two succeeded. -. “Will you not allow me to see you home, Mr. Templeton?" said Jocelyn, in a kindly voice. ’ At this moment Alice Templeton appeared ‘ on the scene, walking meditatively into their midst from the shadowy recesses of the wood. “Alice, take me home,” cried out Arthur to her, in a faint voice. In a moment she was at his side. ‘ . . Sybil’s tears were flowing, but she could not speak. _ Leaning upon Alice heavily, Arthur Temple— ton moved slowly away, wilhout taking the least notice of Sybil and her companion. “That right‘of-way business has commenced badly, Sybil," observsd Jocelyn, in a sympa— thetic voice. ' “I tell you, Jocelyn, that I would rather have lost half my property than that Arthur Templeton should have been injured 1” she said, in a voice of passionate indignation. “Though I don’t like him, I am sorry for him.” ‘ “What can your sorrow be to mine?”ebe continued, wildly. “Oh! I am the most one happy girl in the world 1" ‘ ‘ " Take my arm, Sybil; we are near Abbey.” ‘ “ Leave me, and at once, Jocelyn,” she said, rejecting his proffered assistance. ' : ‘ “Perhaps I’d better. I’ll see you in the morning, when you are calmer. Good-night,- Sybil l" r “ Good-night!” I And then he left her; and when she found” herself alone she sobbed out in passioth '. accents: “Oh, my darling Arthur! how my heart clings to you still, in spite of all unkindnessf? And mourning thus over tender memorié she returned to the Abbey, and spent the‘nigh in tears. , CHAPTER V. ;: PLAYING TOR BIGH’ STAKES. EVENTS were progressing in the order anticio pated by that very deep and fan-seeing indi. vidual, Samuel Murdock. ‘ - ‘ z ’ The physical assertion of his rights attempted by Arthur Templeton, and its immediate our sequences thereof, as described in the previous chapter, had excited the sympathy of Miss Vernon, and she expremed anxiety to with, I \ . 1 ‘\ r 4.3....“ - _.\......:,‘1r....wa.. .1..._,.:.. 4.;— _< ,. A ‘ i l . / 8A“ YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. t , draw the claim which was being urged on her behalf. ‘ ' But. Arthur Templeton, ignoring this con- ciliatory step, had placed the matter in the hands of his lawyer, and had peremptorin re- fused now to come to terms with Mr. Mur- dock’s client, determinedly stating that it was his purpose to fight the matter out, and to ' prove to Miss Vernon and her advisers that'he V'was right and that they werewrong. ' Murdock knew well that Arthur Templeton would act in this rash way, and that his proud spirit would urge him to court destruction rather than accept a favor at the hands of Miss Vernon. Thus acting through Mr. Woodville, I who was always willing to “put people down,"~ Murdock managed to entangle his vic- tim in a costly lawsuit, the preliminary ex- , penses of which Arthur Templeton would not be able to meet unless the lawyer agreed to re- lieve him for a time from the heavy payments due on account of the Pinewood mortgage, and this Murdock had determined not to do. wHe now saw the possibility of realizing one ofthe many sordid and dishonest dreams of his avaricious life. To become the sole owner of the Pinewood estates; to live in the ances- tral home of the Templeton family, and to on- 'joy the distinction and dignity which such‘ a position. would confer upon him, was the great objth at which he now aimed. At the same time he was anxious to effect hispurposezwithout creating any impression among his neighbors of undue harshness to— ward Arthur Templeton. He wished to pose as a conscientious man, in- mwhoso; hands a fine property had fallon in a perfectly legal and fair way. He valued the good opinion of the people of Troy and else- where, and he was determined to keep it if possible. *Among» other, things which he had done in the past in order to cultivate the good opinion of his fellow-creatures, this circumstance stands cut pro-eminently. When Arthur Templeton dismissed the large staff of servants which had been attached to Pinewood-during his father’s lifetime, surprise was expressed that he had not retained the services ofwMiss Eldred, the housekeeper, who had lived with the family for many years. Then it was‘announced that Mr. Murdock had most generously agreed to give Miss Eldred theapost of housekeeper in his house, andin due course the lady entered upon her duties, and was still in his service. By such acts of con- sideration the lawyer had established a reputa- tion for fine feeling and philanthropy among / the people of Troy and its neighborhood. , 1- Two weeks had elapsed since Arthur Tem- pleton’s mishap, and Mr. Murdock was seated ' innhis private office, poring over legal papers, . when the tenant of Pinewood was announced. With a hasty, if not guilty, movement, the g , hWyer-locked the papers in a safe, and then i ; turned to receive his visitor. ‘ .. ‘ . Templeton looked as pale and haggard as usual, and a scar on his right cheek—-the re- ' \ ault of the encounter in the fir grove—added materially to his rather woe-begone appear- , ance. .- The lawyer greeted him with the greatest urbanity, and inquired after his health in a manner betokening much anxiety on the sub- , ject. .- I Paying but little heed to these civilities, Templeton said, in his. sharp, staccato tones, ‘.‘I have a matter of business to discuss with - you,_Mr. Murdock, of the utmost importance. ( Can you spare me half an hour?” “ An hour if you like, Mr. Templeton,” cried out the lawyer, eflusively. , “I find,” resumed the visitor, after a mo— ment‘s pause, “that it will be impossible for ‘ me topay you the full amount on account of the Pinewood debt for some little time to come. Houlwill; receive a considerable installment, of course, .and I shall‘ be. willing to pay a fair rate of interest on the balances falling due, but—3’ . ‘9 Hold, Mr. Templeton 1” said Murdock, Jsharply. “ You may spare yourself the trouble I upon him. I - of going into particulars. I can take no install- ments. Your agreement with me is to hand me the revenues of the estate until the amount due by your late father has been liquidated, and I cannot consent to any departure from that agreement. In fact, it’s not in my power to do so. I had to borrow a. considerable sum in order to meet your father’s requirements, and I am still responsible for the amount.” “Yes; but this action—” commenced Tem- pleton. “Has nothing whatever to do with me as far as your interests are concerned. I tried to effect a friendly understanding between you and my client, but without success. Now, the law must take its course; unless indeed you are willing to take advantage of Miss Vernon’s sympathetic advances,” said the lawyer, with an ill concealed sneer. “ No; I’d rather sacrifice everything than be under an obligation to Miss Vernon—or to any- body else, for that matter,” exclaimed the young man, haughtily. “I begin to think that you wish to make an exception in my favor,” remarked Murdock, in a mocking voico. “ Not a bit of it. It’s purely a matter of business. I’ll pay you any fair sum for inter- est in consideration of your agreeing to my pro 1.” “ And I most emphatically refuse to depart from the original agreement.” “ Is that your final decision?” asked Temple~ ton, as he rose from his chair, and looked at the lawyer with that keen, incisive glance which few could face. "- My final decision,” repeated Murdock, in a low but firm voice. Templeton moved to the end of the room, and with his back turned to Murdock, remain- ed silent for a few minutes, looking out of a window that opened upon a beautiful old gar- den. When he turned and again confronted the lawyer, his face had undergone a startling change. An ashy pallor covered it, and an expression of passionate sorrow filled his eyes, which but a few minutes back were gleaming with sup- pressed anger. Murdock was alarmed, and rose from his chair. “I’m very sorryto see that this matter has put you out so much. Let me fetch you a glass of wine,” said the lawyer, going toward the door. “No, thank you.” After amoment’s pause he added, “Under the circumstances, I cannot see my way to carry through the work that I had under- taken. I will not admit Miss Vernon’s claim, nor would I conscnt to her withdrawal from the action, if you had accepted my proposal. As it is, I must retire from the fight.” Then pausing, he added, in a voice that trembled with emotion, “ When the necessary formalities have been gone through, I shall be prepared to hand you over possession of Pine— woodl” With 'a how, he left the office, giving the lawyer no time to say anything further on the subject. When he reached the outer door leading to the street, he was met by his old housekeeper, Miss Eldred. “Don‘t be down-hearted, Mr. Arthur,” she said, in a cautious tone. “ I have lost Pinewood, after all,” he replied. “I thought that I should have been able to offer you your old place again; but—” He stopped, shook his head, and sighed heav— ily. “Pinewood is not lost—remember that l” res marked , the housekeeper, mysteriously, and then, with an affectionate smile, vanished into an adjoining room. - Templeton left the lawyer’s house, his mind wholly occupied with the thought of his great loss. ‘ , Miss Eldred’s-words had made no impression l He was too much occupied with grim and _' 2" tragic realities to heed the vague and indefinite ’ expressions of a fine old woman, who had never faltered in her loyalty to the house of Temple- ton. Meanwhile, Murdock was congratulating himself on the success which had attendcd his schemes. He had not anticipated such a prompt sur- render on the part of Templeton, who was usually credited with a tenacity of purposc wholly at variance with such conduct. Miss Vernon and Banker Woodville would ’ be regarded by the public as the real perse cutors of Arthur Templeton, and this would preserve the lawyer from many disagreeable consequences which might otherwise have attended his acquisition of the Pinewood property. In the course of a few days it became known in Troy that Mr. Templeton was about to leave the Eastern States, and that his property would pass into the hands of Mr. Murdock. It was also rumored that the lawyer had for years behaved in the most considerate manner toward Arthur Templeton. Four days had elapsed since Templeton’s visit, and Mr. Murdock was lazily enjoying an after-dinner cigar in his snug smoking-room, when the evening post arrived. Having glanced at one of the envelopes, he hastily tore it open, abstracted the letter with a sort of feverish energy, and read the con- tents. In another moment he was out of the room, hastily packing a few things in a valise. A few hurried words to Miss Eldred, a rush to the station, and he managed to catch the night express for New York. As he sat alone in a Pullman compartment, he looked the very picture of a guilty man. And on and on through the night, with meteoric flash, the express thundered on its way to the metropolis. In a corner of the seat he sat, pale but col- lected now. \ The lawyer was not a man to give way for any length of time to a shock such as he had received. 0n the contrary, he soon recovered from its effects, and resumed his plans with greater determination and energy. Murdock was a born villain, with the mind to conceive daring and ambitious schemes, an with the strength of will and courage to ex- ecute them. Woe betide those who tried to thwart 01’ overthrow him. CHAPTER VI. A max 01mm THE momentous step taken by Templeton, involving, as it did, the sacrifice of that great object for which he had worked with such self-sacrifice energy and pertinacity, Was not taken without due consideration of the many urgent circqmstancas by which he was now surrounded. If he had been alone, he would have defended his rights at any cost; but with his aunt and cousin to provide for, he felt that he would not be justified in risking the loss of ever)" thing. By relinquishing the property to Mar-dock now, and dropping all legal proceedings, he would be able to preserve about twenty their sand dollars for himself, and this was little enough with which to face the world under existing circumstances. He attributed these troubles to Miss Vernon, believing that it was her purpose to ruin hlm completely, if possible. . She must have been well aware of his 011" cumstances, he thought, and purposely raifie the “ right-of—way ” question in order to involve him in legal difficulties, out of which he would not be able to extricate himself. He regarded the offer which she had made to withdraw her claim as a mere ruse, 80 003‘ trived as to place him under an obligation *0 her. And he was fixed in his resolve not accept a favor at her hands under any circum‘ ‘- stances. , . , , . - L’s-m“; . , “A” YOUNG‘GIRL’S ORDEAL.’ a V x * 79' M K Now, it was a strange thing that if anybody else had attempted to attribute these sinister motives to Sybil Vernon, he would have been the first to defend her character. When Alice, for instance, spoke disparag- ingly of her some little time ago, he did his best to shield her from any blame in connec- tion with the proceedings threatened on her ‘iehalf. The explanation of this inconsistency was to as found in the fact of his deep and abiding love for Sybil. Yes; nothing that she could do-and she had done much, in his belief—to cause him pain and misery, would in the least way affect his love for her. However, he would bear his Secret with him to the grave, and she should never know how faithfully he had loved her. His purpose now was to leave Troy as soon as possible, and to go West, where he could purchase land at a cheap rate, and begin farm- ing on a small capital. Of course Mrs. Tem- pleton and Alice would accompany him. As yet he had not told them of the great change which had taken place in his affairs; but now he was about to speak to Alice on that and on another subject of no less mo- ment. Alice’s anxiety to leave Pinewood, in order to obtain a situation and earn her own living, was now known to him. Her mother informed him of it, stating that Alice was so urgent in her desire to take this step, that they would find it difficult to oppose her wishes. Templeton could not but admire the spirit which prompted the girl to act in this way; indeed, it quite transformed Alice in his eyes, making her appear a creature endowed With qualities of the highest and noblest kind. ' “She would make a good wife for a strug- v gling man,” he said to Mrs. Templeton, when she told him of her daughter's anxiety to ob— tain a situation; and these words filled the Widow’s heart with delight. ' It was late in the afternoon of an August day when he found an opportunity of speaking freely to Alice. Since the morning walk al- I‘eady described, when they met Jocelyn, she had managed somehow to defeat his purpose of having a serious conversation with her. He met her on her return from the Home Farm, Which was still visited daily in her desire to make good use of her time. . “ So I’ve caught you at lastl”, he said, With a frank. smile, as he stood before her, and Sought to read the secret which he knew Well lurked in the depth of her blue eyes. “ Yes, Arthur; and I have caught you!" she replied, with a timid smile, as she bent her eyes to the ground and blushed. , “Alice, why have you avoided me lately?” he inquired after a moment’s notice, as they Walked slowly, side by side, toward a densely- Wooded portion of the park. ' She made no reply, but her blush deepened, - Iincl her bosom rose and fell with a tremulous motion. “Perhaps you have heard the news at the ome Farm?" h She stopped suddenly, and raised her eyes to is. ‘ “Yes, I have, Arthur. What does it ' mean?" “ It means that we shall have to leave Pine - w00d, Alice. Yes, dear; fate has not favored my designs, and the principal aims of my life have been defeated!” It was the first time that Alice had seen him tray such symptoms of emotion as were now viSible in his countenance, and as she saw him almost unmanned by his feelings, the tears “’89 to her eyes in responsive sympathy. “ I need not tell you, Arthur, how deeply I feel for you!” she said, in a low, sad voice. “ No, you need not, Alice. I am well aware of your kindly sympathy for me; and I know, 00; 0f your generous anxiety to give practice 6fleet to that sympathy.” -‘ She started. . “You have no cause to be ashamed, Alice}; he continued, noticing her confusion: “ but you most assuredly have cause to feel well satisfied with yourself. I am proud of you, dear, for you are a good and brave girl!” “ Pray don’t refer to this subject again!” she cried out imploringly; “ mother promised to keep the matter to herself!” “ Why should you not consult me as to your wishes, Alice?’ he asked, as they resumed her walk. “ Oh, I knew that you had many things to think about, Arthur, and—and besides—1’ “ Besides, what?” he interpolated. “ I thought perhaps that you might have felt offended, seeing that you Were doing every- thing in your power to make me happy at Pinewood.” “And have failed to make you happy!” he observed, sadly. “ No, indeed, Arthur—no, indeed! I am very happy here; but I feel that, under exist- ing circumstances, I have no right to lead an idle life.” “Well, Alice, now you can help me in earn- est. I look to you for assistance, when all the world is against me. Will you give it to me?” “Yes, with a willing heart, Arthur!” she replied, with a cordial sympathy. Th:n in a few words, he told her of the exact position of affairs, and of his resolve to leave New York and settle in Dakota. No word es- caped from him in condemnation of Sybil Vernon‘s conduct. “Now,” he continued, “it is my purpose, as you know, to provide for you and your mother under any circumstances. But Alice—3’. He paused, for she had turned, and was now look— ing at him in a frightened way. “I’m afraid that what I am about to say will not be wel- come to you,” he added, observing the expres- sion of her eyes, and reading the meaning thereof with intuitive readiness. She murmured a few words, but in such a low tone that he could not hear her. “ Alice,” he resumed, “if we have to face the world together, why not face it as man and wife? You may rely upon me to be a tender and a faithful husband. Well?” and he bent over to catch her reply. “It is very good of you to make me such a generous offer,” she said, in a low voice, but not daring to lift her sace to his inquiring eyes. “ It is certainly not a generous ofler, Alice, under existing conditions, but it is the best that I can afford to make,” and an expression of pain passed over his face as he said this. She was silent for a moment or two, and then, in a more composed voice, said: “Arthur, confess it——-you do not love me!” “ You are very, very dear to me, Alice, and I mean to devote my life to you now,” he re- plied, evasively. “Yes; but you are doing violence to your feelings in asking me to become your wife.” “No, Alice; indeed I am not! 1—” He hesitated and bent his eyes to the ground. “I do not wish to cause you pain, Arthur, but surely it is better that we should under- stand one another now than that we should postpone explanations until it would be too late to remedy mistakes.” “I have already told you the story of my disappointment, and I have not concealed from you the lasting effects of that disappointment upon me.” “And when you told me. I thought, and I think still, that it was a great pity that you should have fallen out with Miss Vernon.” “ As that lady is now about to become the wife of Jocelyn Woodville, I think that it would be better for all our sakes to make no further reference to her ”-—and a slight frown clouded his face for an instant. “You are not angry with me, Arthur?” she said, anxiously, as she raised her eyes to his with appealing tenderness. “ Indeed, I am not ungrateful to you for all your kindness to my mother and myself!” she added, feelingly. They were now walking in the somber shade of the trees. . , . The sun was slowly sinking behind the hori- ! .1". l zon, and thowesteru skies were ablaze with the golden glories of the declining orb. - The approach of evening was heralded by a chill wind, which swept in rustling murmurs through the innumerable leaves. The birds were almost silent; only an occa- sional chirrup came from the feathered song- sters now, as they brooded in ‘loving groups amid the leafy recesses of the trees. Overhead, a straggling flock of crows winged their homeward flight, cawing hoarsely, as they sped swiftly on their way; but in a mo— ment they Were gone, and the silence of even- ing was unbroken. . Templeton had been walking on slowly for the last few minutes, in silent commune with his own thoughts. He turned and looked at Alice, who was in tears. “ My dear girl,” he cried out, as he gently‘ placed his hand upon her arm, “do not distress yourself over this proposal of mine! If you cannot accept me as a husband, let me be a brother to you i” “No, no, no 1” she sobbed; “ I am not indif- ferent to your tender regard for me—do not imagine that! I know that you are thinking only of my happiness, not of your own!” He stopped and took her hands in his, and they stood facing one another in silence. For a second she tried to respond to his searching gaze, and then bent her eyes to the gmund. Releasing her hands, he said, in a tone of , playful tenderness, “ Alice, I shall regard your words as an acceptanco of my suit; but I fancy that at the moment it would not he agreeable to you that I should require any more explicit declaration on the subject. Take my arm, dearest. It is getting late, and the mother will be waiting for us.” And leaning upon his arm, she returned to the house, feeling very miserable and unhappy. Poor thing! she was still pining and fretting over a memory which was dearer to her than anything in life, and that memory was insep», arably associated with a faded rose. For several days Arthur was occupied in making arrangements for his departure from Pinewood. . ' ' It was his purpose to use the utmost-ex- pedition in carrying out .his plans; indeed, x above all things, he was anxious now to re- linquish the cares and responsibilities which had weighed upon his life for the last eight years with such harassing effect. Murdock had not yet returned to Troy; but he had written a letter to Arthur of a very obliging nature, which materially helped the - latter in completing his plans. One thing alone now remained to he settled. Alice had not as yet given him an oppor- tunity .of coming to a final understanding with her on the subject of their marriage, and she persistently eluded his attempts to closerlhe matter. 4 r He had decided not to beundnly urg’ent with her, and to postpone their marriage if neces- sary until they had left Pinewood. All these things worried him a good deal, and so aggravated the normal activity of his mind that his general health suffered in con- sequence. It was a dark and chilly night, when, unable to bear the stillness and confinement at his room, he left the house, feeling that he could only obtain relief from the feverish anxieties which oppressed him in the freedom of the open air. Heavy clouds swept in somber procession over the face of heaven; for the wind was high, and sobbed and soughed with weird mournfulness amid the swaying branches of the trees. . Intermittent! y the moon’s rays shone through the vaporous canopy overhead, touching the fields and the trees with silvery radiance for a moment, and then again relinquishing them to the darkness of night. He walked slowly down the avenue, grateful to the rushing wind - which soothed the fevsrlsh throbbing of his temples. ‘ ' ' V. _._A. A AMA m. ses‘.‘.. __L_A.I4...A ' «10' A YOUtiomciiiL’S’ ORDEAL. His mind for the last few days hid been re~ verting with insistent longing to the days of his intimacy with Sybil Vernon. All her dainty little ways, her outbursts of temper and tenderness, her, girlish love for him, and the many kindnesses which Were ex- changed between them, now came back to his mind and filled his eyes with tears. Passing out through the entrance-gates, he gained the high-road and moved slowly forward, his mind vainly seeking to struggle against the flood of tender thoughts ‘which beset him. Suddenly a strange crimson shade seemed to spread over the'black sky, and was faintly reflected in the somber pools of water which recent rains had left on the road. He watched the curious phe- nomenon; the shade was spreading, and as it spread, its hue became deeper and deeper. Soon a great expanse of sky was gleaming with a fierce red light, and rolling volumes of smoke, like foam-fringed waves, were rushing and whirling through the murky sky. Arthur rushed to some rising ground in the neighbor- hood. A moment was enough to convince him. Cherton Abbey was on'fire. He ran to the lodge-gates of the abbey and / forced them open. The lodge-keeper was on the point of leaving for the house. . " “ Bad business, David,” he said to the man. “ Are the people safe?” he added, hurriedly, as accompanied by David he ran swiftly up the avenue toward the abbey. “ We’ve just sent a messenger to Troy, and my son has gone to Mr. Woodville’s,” said the man, in breathless tones, as he ran by Arthur’s side. When they reached the abbey Arthur found that one ‘wing of the huge building was almost completely enveloped in flames. , “Are you all safe?” he cried out to a group of domestics who were standing near, paralyzed with fear. “ Oh, for God’s sake, Mr. Templeton, save Sybil!” shrieked an old lady, coming forward and falling hpon her knees at hisfeet. He recognized Miss Chinnery—Sybil’s aunt. “Is she still in the house?” he asked, in a hoarse voice. “ Yes; I entreated her to come with me, and she promised to follow me; but instead of doing so, she went back to try and save her old nurse, who is a helpless invalid. Oh, what shall I do —what shall I do?” “ Is she in the right or left wing?” , “ In the rightl” answered several voices. “ Ladders here l-qquick l” shouted Arthur, as he ran nearly to the end of the right wing, the front of which was a lurid mass of flame. A ladder was brought. Several people tried to dissuade him from the desperate undertak- ing, but sternly pushing them aside, he ran up the ladder with amazing rapidity. Gaining the parapet, he ran along the nar- row ledge until he came to a small window, which he broke in, and, heedless of conse4 quences, plunged into the house and into the rocking volumes of smoke which filled the ~ place. . He gained a long corridor, at one end of I" which the flames were shooting up in quiver- ing tongues of fire, while round and about him ' the walls cracked and groaned with the heat; and .ever and anon, above the deep rumbling of the approaching conflagratiou, thunderous vcrashes resounded as the heavy walls and solid blocks of masonry gave way and melted into the devouring flames. 011 he went, until he reached a room which ‘was within a few yards of the advancing fire. The smoke nearly choked him. Still he groped . his way about. Suddenly his hand touched a cold face, and he leaned over it. It was the body of the nurse. The crackling of the flames, as they burnt through the thick walls, warned him that in a few. minutes he would have to leave or perish. ' He listened intently. A low groan caught his . m. In a moment he found Sybil. She was '_ on her knees in a corner of the room. Quick as thought he clasped her in his arms, for she was insensible now, and rushed back. He struggled bravely through the smoke, and at length reached the parapet. Holding his precious burden tightly to his breast, he ran along the ledge. There was not a moment to be lost, for the flames were now darting out of the windows immediately below him,vand the smoke almost stifled him. With a roar like ten thousand angry lions the demon flames suddenly rent the roof in twain, and the wall upon which he now stood trembled as a reed trembles in the wind. Clasping the insensible girl to his breast he gently let himself over the ledge. Thank Godl the ladder was firm and safe] Then cautiously he went down step by step, and amid the ringing cheers of the very con- siderable crowd which had now gathered about the house, he handed Sybil over to her friends. Mr. Woodville, Jocelyn, and several other gentlemen warmly congratulated Arthur, who, however, paid little heed to their words. The fire-engine had now come from Troy, and willing hands from the neighborhood as- sisted the fire brigade in their efforts to save a portion of the abbey at any rate. Sybil so far recovered consciousness as to be able to explain to those about her that the nurse had died in her arms—died murmuring prayers for the safety of her young mistress. In all probability the aged creature was thus mercifully spared a death of terrible agony in the flames. Arthur, feeling that he had done his duty for the night, escaped unnoticed from the crowd, and returned to Pinewood, jaded, but very grateful and very happy. CHAPTER VII. LOVE’S vroronv. SEVERAL days had elapsed since the disas- trous fire at Cherton Abbey, and Sybil Vernon was slowly recovering from the nervous shock which she sustained on that terrible night. She was staying at The Towers, where she was visited daily by Doctor Chalmers, a local practitioner of high repute. For the first time since her arrival, she was permitted this morning to rise from her bed and sit in an easy-chair by the open window. It was a beautiful day, with a soft blue sky overhead, flecked here and there with snowy patches of cloud; and the sun shone brightly upon the earth, and in its glowing beams the dew on the grass sparkled and flashed like diamonds. A gentle breeze from the west, laden with the perfume of wild flowers, blew in at the open window, and softly kissed the pale face of the reclining girl. And from wood and. mead— ow came the joyous caroling of happy birds, soothing her mind with sweet pictures of the beauties of summer. “How sweet life is upon a day like this!” she murmured. “ Janet,” she added, address- ing her maid, “have you heard anything about Mr. Templeton? Is be quite well?” The maid shook her head, 'but made no reply. " Why don’t you answer me?” continued Sybil. “ Well, miss, the doctor told me not to an- swer questions, for fear of disturbing you.” “Never mind the doctor,” said Sybil, ur- gently. “ Mr. Templeton is quite well, miss.” “ Thank God I” “ You know, I suppose, that he is about to leave Pinewood?” continued Janet, who was an inveterate chatterer. H Yes." “ Everybody’s very sorry, miss. Mr. Tem- pleton is such a favorite. But there’s no help for it now, I suppose. They do say that you’ve. had a hand in sending him away. But I don’t believe that, miss—no fear!” “ Why do people say such cruel things, Janet?” said Sybil, faintly. - I “ Ah, that’s just‘ what I say, miss. The doctor’s young man told me the other day that it’s all over Troy that you brought an action against Mr. Templeton, and that he has to leave the country, as he hasn’t money to pay lawyers to defend him. Which is all lies, and so I told Sam—I mean the doctor’s young man—miss.” Sybil was cut to the heart when she heard this, but she said nothing. “ Mr. Templeton’s marriage is— What’s the matter, niss?” cried out the servant, as a deadly pallcr suddenly came into her mistress’s face. _ After a moment or two Sybil revived, and said: “Just a slight attack; I’m all right again.” A rep at the door announced visitors, and in another moment Miss Chinnery and the doctor entered the room. “Now I can see at once that you have been disturbed,” he said, as be cast a searching glance at Sybil’s face. “ What silly tattle have‘ you been saying?” he added, turning to Janet, who, with a guilty expression of face, was trying to escape unnotiCed from the room. “ About Mr. Templeton, sir,” meekly replied the maid. “ You have neglected my instructions. Leave the reum l” he said, sternly. “I alone am to blame, doctor. I feel quite well enough now to talk about—about any- thing,” remarked Sybil, w ith a faint smile. Doctor Chalmers, having satisfied himself that she had made satisfactory progress since his last visit, turned to her aunt, who was anx- iously watching his face as be timed Sybil’s pulse, and remarked: “Yes, we’re doing remarkably well; and there is no reason why we shouldn’t go out for a drive to—day.” “ That’s good news, doctor, indeed i” said the old lady, delightedly. “Mind, not more than a mile 1" he continued, with a grave smile. “Not as far as Pinewood, even, just to say a few words?” cried out Sybil, in a pleading tone. “ I’ll forbid the drive altogether if you men- tion Pinewood again.” And the doctor, as he said this, exchanged a significant glance with Miss Chinnery. “ All right, doctor, I’ll obey you.” Then, after a moment’s pause, the added, “It’s re- ported in the neighborhood, I understand, that I’ve had something to do with Arthur Temple- ton’s approaching departure from—” She stopped, then struggled to continue, and burst into a flood of tears. “ I understand you perfectly,” said the doc— tor in a soothing tone, as be gently placed his hand on her arm and tried to pacify her. “ And you wish me to contradict the report, eh i” “ Yes, if you please. I cannot hear the thought of being regarded as the cause of Mr. Templeton’s misfortunes!” The doctor promised faithfully to give eflect to her wishes, and soon afterward left her in charge of her aunt. 85 hi] gradually grew more composed, and after half an hour’s quiet chat with Miss Chin- nery, was able to go down-stairs to the morn- ing-room, where she met Mrs. Woodville and Jocelyn, both of whom cordially congratulated her on her recovsry. In a few minutes Mrs. Woodviile and Miss Chinnery left the room, thinking that after a week’s separation the young people might like to confer alone for a little time. Sybil was afraid that her betrothed would now kiss her, but he merely pressed her hand to his lips with a cordiality that was rather friendly than tender. “ I’m so glad to see you up again, dear Sybil l" he said, in a tone of frank sympathy. ' “ Ahl what a terrible escape I’ve had, my good Jocelyn l” “ Terrible indeed l” he echoed. ‘ “ I’m so anxious to tell Arthur Templeton i \ ‘ . 5A how deeply grateful I am to him i”; she re- marked, after a short pause. “ Naturally. You owe your life to him. He is a noble fellow, truly, and we are all proud of him now. It is a pity that he is so distant, and, if I must say it, so very unfriendly to his neighbors.” - “ He has good reasons for his conduct, I am sure,” she said, meditatively. “ No doubt; but when father wrote to him a few days ago, asking for an interview, he might have granted it. Father wished to thank him personally on your behalf and on his own behalf; but Templeton declined to see him, saying that he was very busy in com- pleting his arrangements for leaving Pine- wood. “ If you called, I’m sure that he’d see you, and I should prefer you to take my message to him. Will you oblige me in this matter, Jocelyn?” And she looked at him appeal- ingly. The request evidently caused him some an- noyance, and for a minute or two he was silent. “ Then, in a low tone, he said, “ Templeton is such a strange fellow now that I’m doubtful whether he would treat me civilly or not. I never knew a man upon whom trouble has had such a very disagreeable effect, though we know that the essential features of his char- acter are unchanged.” “ Perhaps for my sake he will treat you _as of old, Jocelyn. We must be very tender with a man whose life has been full of trial and of pain.” “ Yes; I agree with you, Sybil.” “ Then you will go to Pinewood today?” “Yes. “ Aunt must go with you, of course; so that if Templeton is absent, you may see Mrs. Templeton and her pretty daughter.” Jocelyn started, and turned his head away to escape Sybil’s searching glances. “By the way,” she continued, “ I should like to send a wedding-present to Miss Tem- pleton. I’m so anxious to be on good terms with the Templetons now—so anxious, at any rate, to show Arthur that I am ‘not ungrate- fill. Every moment of my life is due to him, every—-” She faltered, and again the tears coursed down her cheeks, but she checked any further display of feeling. . “I’m so weak!" she murmured apologetic— Illy, as she placed her handkerchief to her 0 es. . y“ Well, what am I to say to Templeton? The kinder the message, the better I shall like it,” he said, with a frank smile. . “Tell him that my heart is full of gratitude, "did that I long to see him to tell him so; and iilliitmohl that I pray night and day for his welfare!” ‘ “ Yes; I’ll not forget.” “ Of course, the moment that the doctor givos me permission, I’ll call upon him.” She was silent for a moment. “You’ll do you best to be friendly with Templeton, dear Jocelyn, for my sake?” she added, with affectionate emphasis. “ Certainly. By the way, Sybil— Now don’t be frightened l” he remarked, observing a hidden change in her face. “ Oh, I’m not frightened, Jocelyn; but your Constrained and formal tone is not welcome. 89%|: to me in your own friendly way.” . . And she looked up at him, and smiled With lngenuous tenderness. “Well, you see, I know that it’s not an lgreeable subject to talk about—I mean that We not agreeable to you,” he continued, heel- tatingly. “ I can guess what it is, and unless. I am greatly mistaken, the subject is not particular- ly Pleasing to my dear friend, Jocelyn l” and her dark eyes looked into his with searching intensity for a moment. “I’ll not say that, Sybil; but at any rate, Pm glad to see that we understand one another. well; my father is very urgent about our mar- .A._. YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. riage, and so is mother, and between the two, my life is nearly worried out of me. The marriage arrangements are being made; al- ready father is in correspondence with a friend of his in Newport, who has a cottage to let, where, according to the present plans, we are to spend our honeymoon.” “At present, Jocelyn, I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t like to cause my dear guar- dian—your father—any anxiety or pain, if I can possibly avoid doing so; but—” and she stopped, and then added, with a timid laugh, “ we mustn’t give way to him in all things." “Well, I’m glad that I’ve mentioned the matter to you, at any rate. Yul] will, I am sure, understand that any steps of an ur- gent kind which my parents may take will not have my approval. In other words, I will do nothing that will give you pain.” “ I know that, Jocelyn, dear, good friend!” And their eyes met in a glance. which was full of affectionate sympathy and trust. Later on in the day, Sybil and Mrs. Wood- ville went out for a drive, and Jocelyn and Miss Chinnery proceeded to Pmewuod. They found Mrs. Templeton at home, and were very cordially greeted by the widow. “ My nephew is making preparations for our departure, so that his time is very much occu- pied. He went to Troy this morning, and I don’t expect him back until a late hour,” said Mrs. Templeton, in reply to their inquiries. At this moment Alice entered the room, and was introduced to the two visitors. Miss Chinnery and Mrs. Templetovn, like the two old gossips that they were, beCeme ab- sorbed in some topic of local interest, and this gave the young man an opportunity which he had long desired. “I suppose you’ve heard the particulars of your cousin’s noble conduct,” he said with a nervous smile. He was not at all at home in the presence of this young lady to day; indeed, for the matter of that, she, too, was feeling awkward and embarrassed. ‘ “No, I have not,” she said coldly. “ Indeed! I’m surprised at that! It’s the great topic of conversation in the neighbor- hood!” “ My cousin is not the man to talk much of his good deeds,” she remarked, in the same chilling tone. “Well, it’s only right that you should know all about it; and if you don‘t mind, I’ll tell you.” She bowed, and then he gave her a glowing account of Arthur Templeton’s heroic conduct, dwelling, with cordial emphasis, on the daring and courage displayed on that terribly eventful occasion. “And I am commissioned,” be added, in, conclusion, “to convey Miss Vernon’s thanks to him, and to explain that she will thank him in person when she is well enough.” _ “ It is gratifying to know that she appreci- ates thc great service which be rendered her,” said Alice, still unrelentingly cold and formal. “She has always had a very high opinion of Arthur, and she has never ceased to regard him with affectionate solicitude.” And his manner became earnestly impressive and tender. ‘* She has a strange way of showing her solicitude,” said Alice, with a scarcely percep- tible sneer. “If you refer to the right-of-way question, I may as well tell you that she was opposed to the course taken by her lawyer, who was act- ing under instructions from my father, and when the matter was brought to a Crisis by the fight in the grove, she stopped all proceedings, and was very angry, and is still very angry, that Mr. Templeton should have ban subjected to so much injury and annoyance.” “ 0b, of course, you’ll take her part!” But Alice had no sooner said this than she regretted it. “ I’m anxious,” said he, in a low and earnest voice, “to promote a good understanding be- tween your cousin and Sybil Vernon. If Arthur knew how deeply she sympathizes with , him in his troubles, and how anxiously she de- sires his welfare, it could not fail to create an effect upon his mind which would be favorable to my wishes.” “ You are playing a strange part, Mr. Woodville,” she said, in a cutting voice. They were sitting in the shelter of a deep bay window, some little distance from the two elderly ladies, and they were thus enabled to talk with greater freedom than would other- wise have been possible. "I’m afraid, Miss Templeton, that you are determined to regard we as adetigning and insincere man. You have wronged me in the pist; do not wrong me nowl” , “You have a very treacherous memory; but I think the less we say about the past the better.” And her. blue eyes flashed with scornful arger as she now looked at him. “ Will you grant me the favor of a few words of explanation?” he pleaded with urgent tenderness. "For what purpose?” “ I believe that I could succeed in removing certain cruel misunderstandings if we Were alone for a few minutes.” “One word, Mr. Woodville. Is Miss Vet- non about to become your wife?” she inquired, in a low, trembling .tone. ' “If you will grant me this interview, I will ‘ explain everything to you—everything! Oh, do not refue mel” ' ‘ She res» from her chair. “Mr. Woodville wishes to look at the pic- tures, mamma,” she said, as she went toward , the. door, followed by Joeelyn. F ‘ “All right, Alice. You'll find us here when r you come back,” replied Mrs. Templeton, who was thoroughly enjoying her gossip with BMiss Chinnery. _ The young people left the room and pm ceeded to the drawing-room. “Now, I’ve acted very foolishly, I knew, in acceding to your strange request,”,remarked Alice, as they walked slowly up to the apart- ment. “You have acted with great kindness, Miss Templeton,” said he, in a voice that still be- trayed great nervousness. “You asked me,” he resumed, after a moment’s silence, “if a marriage was about to take place between Miss Vornon and myself, or, rather, ii we were en. gaged. As a matter of fact, my parents de- sire such a marriage, and in deference to their wishes, an engagement dces‘ exist, but our hearts are not comerned in it. No; on my faith and honor as a gentleman, both Sybil and myself desire to be free.” ‘ “ I’m surpriSed to hear that. Perhaps when you are married you will learn tolove each other,” she‘said, timidly. . y , “Married! We shall never be man sue wife; but as shall always be sincere and faith- ful friends. Ah, if you had only listenedfio the explanation which I wished to make when we met that morning- on the Ti'oy’road I should not have entered into‘ any engagement with Sybil, and it would have saved us both v much pain.” , ’ " I d n’t quite see why my refusal to listen to your explanation should have had the effect you mention,” said Alice, in a tone of indiffer- ence. a “ Then have you quite forgotten our (nect— "“ ing in the academy i” he inquired, as he sought, With eager tenderness, to read the ex- pression of her blue eyes. ' ' V “ It is too late to refer to that,er. Wood- ville; and, indeed, it would be wrong of me to listen to any further reference to it now,” she replied. . ' a He stopped, and said, in a voice thtit was husky with emotion: “ Am I speaking to $5. aflflanced wife of Arthur Templeton?” ' Asshe saw the look of agony now‘creeping slowly over his face her heart was touched with pity for him, and the tears rose, unbidden to her eyes. I , I _ . “ He has asked me to be: his wife, and Li” He fell back from her,,panting‘and gasping ‘ like one stricken to the very heart. , \ l i < ’ v ~ \ - I i » l l , . . ‘ \ i . {a " . I . . _ } J U 1: wk“ v V’ . ll . , I I "’y it‘. ~ it A I h“ Emil“ n w-ekifl‘ " 42-» i“ You are in pain?” she cried out, as she ap- proached him. ' “ I am, Alice; but I must bear it. Oh, my darling, my darling l”-——and he stretched his arms out toward her. “ I cannot—I dare not!” She stopped, and clasping her hands together, raised her face heavenward. “ If you marry Templeton, you will break two hearts! Yes, Alice, for Sybil loves him fasldearly as I love you!” “ But do you love me?” she subbed. Aquick flush of joy mantled in his face as he caught her in his arms, and pressed her with convulsive tenderness to his breast. And then their lips met in a lingering pres- sure of love, and they knew that their hearts were united forever. The two lovers, after a. very tender confer- ence, returned to the sitting-room, and in a few‘minutes Jocelyn and Miss Cbinnery left Pinewood. And need it be told that the faded flower was kissed again and again that night by its fair owner? Alice thought that of all the happy girls in the world, she was the hap- pieet. , CHAPTER VIII. ax wanna nmcrrva. Barons the lapse of many days, Sybil Ver- non‘s condition was so satisfactory that all re- strictions as to her movements were with. drawn by the doctor. Her first wish now was to call at Pinewood, and personally thank ‘ Arthur Templeton for his gallant conduct; and she was about to give effect to this wish, when she received a most unexpected visit from Miss Eldred, Murdock’s housekeeper, which com- pletely altered her plans. Sybil was still at The Towers, and received her visitor in the library, where there was not much chance of their being disturbed. “ I hope that you’ll forgive me for troubling you, Miss Vernon,” said Miss Eldred, seating herself in obedience to Sybil’s invitation. “ Knowing that you wish well to Mr. Arthur, I thought that if I called and asked you to help me in my struggle to assist him that you would be sure to do so,” she added, in a tone of appealing anxiety. “ And you judged rightly, Miss Eldred; and I am grateful to youfor remembering that the interests of the Templeton family are as dear to. me as ever. Ah! times may change, but my heart has not changed; rather has it now , / become devoted to the purpose of serving Ar- , thurTempleton, to whom I owe my life.” _ “ Well, then,” resumed the housekeeper, with a pleased smile, “this is the object of my visit; “When I left Pinewood, in obedience to Mr. Arthur’s wishes, as he would not let me remain {unless I was willing to receive my usual wages, which, knowing his circumstances, I had re- fused, I accepted Mr. Murdoch’s offer of a ‘ place in his establishment. “ I knew well that Mr. Murdock merely wished to keep me under his own eyes, so that I could not make those eflorts on Mr. Arthur’s behalf which he suspected, and rightly sus- ‘nected, were the object of my life. “I have tried, but in vain, to obtain in- formation in his house. I “ He is so watchful and cunning, that up to a the esent he has defeated me. “ owever, within the last few weeks I have seen one or two things which, as time presses, I think we ought to follow up.” ’ “ What are they? Tell me!” cried out Sybil, eagerly. ’ . The prospect of serving Arthur Templeton had filled her heart with joy. , "“The first was this,” resumed Miss Eldred, with methodical precision. “A little time ago, Mr. Murdock received a letter bearing the 'New York postmark. “I took particular notice of the writing on .. the envelope, and somehow or other I thought , mt I recognized it. I YOUNG G'IRL’S ORDEAL. “ At any rate, no sooner did Mr. Murdock read the letter than he started by the night express for New York. “Then I searched through some of the old papers in the ofldce and found writing which corresponded with the writing on the envelope. “Ahl’ exclaimed Sybil, as she leant forward and listened with absorbing intensity to the housekeeper’s story. “And,” continued she, “further inquiries convinced me that. a clerk of the name of Stevens was the writer of the letter which had caused Mr Murdock to start for New York in such an expeditious manner. “That clerk left Murdock’s employ eight years ago, and has not been seen since. “Now, I fancy that man could give us valu~ able information on the subject of the Temple- ton mortgage, if we could find him. “At all events, seeing that in a few days, n0w, Mr. Arthur will have to surrender his house to Murdock unless something such as we desire should be discovered, I think that the circumstance ought to be made use of, and without delay.” “ Certainly; I cordially agree with you. But what do you propose?" “Well, some one ought to go to New York, and watch Mr. Murdock’s movements. “I’m afraid to go, as he might return at any moment, and so defeat our purpose. “ For, if I rouse his suspicions now, our last chance is gone!" “Do you know his address in the city?” asked Sybil, quickly. “ Yes; 1 forward his letters to him every day to this address.” And she showed a slip of paper to Sybil, who at once took possession of it. “I’ll go to New York myself,” Miss Vernon said, decisively. “Of course, no one must know of our purpose,” she added, as she rose from her chair, her every movement indicating resolute energy. . “But are you well enough to undertake the journey?” inquired the housekeeper, anxiously. “The hope of serving Arthur Templeton has put new life into mel Oh, Miss Eldred, I would give the world to be able to repay, in part, the deep debt of gratitude which I owe to the dear companion of my childhood, Arthur Templeton!" . . The good woman sighed deeply, and then said: “ In the old days, Miss Sybil, I cherished hopes which can, alas! never be realized!” After a pause, she added: “I understand that your marriage is to take place shortly. Is that true, ’Miss Ver- non?” “Nothing has been settled yet. I mean to direct my attention solely to this business. I will start to-night, and you will either see or hear from me in the course of the next few days.” After exchanging a few words of cordial sympathy with Sybil, Miss Eldred left The Towers, and Miss Vernon prooeeded to make arrangements for her journey. She explained to Mrs. Woodville that urgent private business necessitated her immediate departure from The Towers, exchanged a few hurried words with Jocelyn, and then devoted her attention to packing up. Her aunt insisted upon accompanying her. “You will be back in a few days, dear?" remarked Mrs. Woodville as she attended Sybil down ,to the hall. “Yes, my dear friend; I‘m sure not to be longer." ‘ ' “ How on earth am I to console Jocelyn during your absence?” “Tell him to go to Pinewood, and study the pictures there,” chimed in Miss Chinnery, with a shrewd smile. Jocelyn colored up, and avoided his mother’s inquiring glance by the simple expedient of walking away. , . Their farewells wore exchanged, and Sybil and her aunt left The Towers and drove to the l A Station, where they caught the New York train. Murdock was stopping at a private hotel on Broadway, and Sybil succeeded in engaging rooms in a house at the opposite side of the street. On’ the following morning she stationed her- self at a window which commanded a view of the entrance to the hotel; and in less than an hour she was rewarded by seeing Murdock, who issued from the house, and paused on the steps for a moment. . Sybil was ready, and having assured her aunt that she would soon return, and that there was no occasion for being apprehensive on her ac- count, left the hotel as Murdock moved down the steps, and walked toward the City Hall. In a few minutes, he haileda hack, and drove away. I Sybil quickly engaged one, too, and told the driver to follow the vehicle occupied by the lawyer. They drove for some distance through a mis- erable portion of the city, and finally the cab in front stopped at the corner of a mean-looking street. Sybil dismissed her carriage and followed the lawyer, who was now walking down the street. He entered a tall, dingy house, in the front windows of which several cards were exhibited, with the familiar announcement printed there- on :— “ APARTMENTS m Ln.” Taking up her positiOn some little distance from this house, she watched for the departure of Murdock. I , In a half an hour he again appeared, and walked swiftly away. Then she Went to the house, inquired about the apartments, and was shown into the parlor by a slovenly, red-nosed woman, who appeared to be afflicted with a chronic snuflie. She arranged to take two rooms in the house, and paid a deposit, which put the landlady in excellent humor. “ Have you any lodgers at preeenti" inquired Sybil, in a tone of friendly inquiry. “Only one, miss. A miserable creetur’ he is, too. It’s well for him that be has such a friend as that gent as just went out—Mr. Cartwright—who pays his bills, and pays the doctor, and, in fact, behaves hisself like a real gentleman,” said the landlady. “Is your lodger an invalid, than?" inquired Sybil, who had taken note of the fact that Murdock had assumed the name of Cart- wright. “Yes, miss; but hedon’t keep his bed. He remains in the sitting-room all day, groaning an’ moaning like—like—well, like anything.” “ What‘s the matter with him?” “Mr. Cartwright says sunstroke. I say drink,” replied the old woman, emphatically. 1 “Did you say that his name was-4' Sybil paused. “Stevens, miss,” said the landlady, inno- cently. Miss Vernon felt at once that she was on the right track, but she carefully abstained from any display of feeling which migtt haw provoked the suspicious of the landlady. “I don’t know how long 1 may want these rooms," she remarked, after a moment’s sic lence; “but in any case I Will engage them for a month. I may not make much use of them, as I have several friends in New York with whom I shall spend the greater part of my time.” The landlady was highly pleased with thil arrangement, and when Sybil followed it “P by handing her a dollar to buy whatever he! fancy should suggest for a treat, she was hardly able to restrain her delight. In a few minutes the woman left the balls. to make these purchases, and then 83b” mounted the stairs, knocked at a door on W next landing, and in obedience to a feeble 01" of “ Come in,” entered the room. A pale, haggard looking man, with treur bling limbs and dim, bloodshot eyes, WM / _ ' A doubled up on a sofa in a corner of the room like a beaten hound. , ' “Your name is Stevens, I think?” she said, as she looked at him with a penetrating inten- sity of glance. He started up, and returned her glance with a feeble stare. “ You had a visitor here just now?” she continued, without taking her eyes from his face. “Yes—Mr. Cartwright.” “ His name is not Cartwright, and you know that very welll” Drawing herself up to her full hight, and eying him so that be fairly winced under the unrelenting sternness of her glance, she added: “ His name is Samuel Murdock, and—” “Oh, curse the name and curse the man!” shrieked the wretched creature, in a. sudden frenzy, which seemed to endow him with a wild strength and activity. “I knew it was coming! I felt it was coming! It has been haunting me night and day, and now it has come!" And he flung himself back on the sofa and moaned despairingly. “Your mind is burdened with guilt. You have done a grievous wrong to a noble and high-minded man, and Murdock reaps the benefit. Is that not so?” And she bent over him to catch his reply. He tried to hide his face from her. She grasped his arm, and wrenching it aside, looked piercineg at him, then said, in a low, intense tone: “ Arthur Templeton 1” It was enough. That name seemed to act like a shock from a galvanic battery, and fling- ing himself on the floor, he knelt at her feet. “ I’m not the chief culprit! I only made use of my guilty knowledge to get money out of Murdock. Oh, have mercy upon me, good lady, for indeed I have never known what it Was to be happy since I gave way to this hor— rible temptation l” And he crawled to her feet, and sought to kiss the hem of her dress. “ If you tell me the truth now, and deliver up to me any documents in your possession, I willnot fail touse my influence in your be half.” , He rose to his feet, staggered out of the room, and returned again in a moment, with a small bundle of papers in his hand. . “Eight years ago,” he said, in a low, peni- tential tone, as he stood before her with bowed head, “ I was in Murdock’s office. “On the death of the late Mr. Templeton, Murdock, who was that gentleman’s lawyer, claimed to hold the title-deeds of the Temple- ton estates against advances which he had made to the deceased gentleman. He produced ac- counts and vouchers in support of his claim, Which were duly recognized by Mr. Arthur Templeton. “But I knew very well that Murdock had been fully paid by the late Mr. Templeton, and I managed to obtain the receipts which Mur- dock had given against the various payments made to him on account of the loan. “ I threatened to produce these receipts un- less he made me an ample yearly allowance, to Which he agreed, stipulating only that I should :ever again return to Troy or its neighbor- 00d. “Latterly my mind has been greatly troub- 6d on account of the rascally business, and I Wrote to Murdock, telling him that if I didn’t make a clean breast of it I would go mad. “So he has been visiting me, and I promised t0 obey him, and to keep quiet, in considera- tion of a pension of one thousand a year.” . “Have you got the receipts?” eagerly In- ‘Iuired Sybil. “No! I have handed them to Murdock l” and the wretched man groaned aloud in an agony 0‘ repentance. “Too late L—wo late 1” murmured Sybil in a 1°“ voice. as she clasped her hands convul- 1/ Elver bgerhor, and sought to control her \; YOUNG ’ GIRL’S ORl/DEAL, emotion . in the presence of this disappoint- ment. “These vouchers,” said the wretched crea- ture, “ which relate to the transaction in ques- tion, may be of some assistance to you, Miss Vernon. Take them in God’s name!” And he handed the documents to her. “Does Murdock know of the existence of these vouchers?” she asked, as she carefully looked through the papers. “ He believes that they have been destroyed. I fear, now that he has the receipts in his pos- session, they will not greatly serve your pur- pose. Oh, Miss Vernon! would that you had come in but a few minutes before, and then—" “ Wretched man,” cried out Sybil, angrily, “ you have indeed much to answer for! These papers are of little, if any, value, as far as I can see.” She walked about the room in silence for a few minutes, and then, confronting the unhappy wretch, said: “ You must—mind you, must—go d0wn tomorrow to Mr. Templeton’s residence, and I will probably see you there. All is not yet lost—though, indeed, I fear that that wretch Murdock will be triumphant l” “ I will not fail you, Miss Vernon. To night I will start for Troy, and, with God’s help, I will be at Pinewood tomorrow; though, with you. I have little hope now of defeating Murdock’s designs. Recollect that he is a most determined as Well as clever man 1” Sybil was impressed by the evident sincerity of Stevens, and believing in his repentance and his desire to aid her in the purpose which she had in view, she thus addressed him: “ I will not fail to use my influence on your behalf should we succeed in rescuing Pinewood from the clutch of Murdock. In anyr case recollect this: that your efforts now to undo the evil of which you have been guilty will plead for y0u, not only here, but there I” And she solemnly raised her eyes aloft. “ May Heaven bless you for those kind words, missl” cried out the feeble creature, as he clasped his hands together and sobbed like a child. Sybil addressed a few comforting words to him, and then went down-stairs, where she met the landlady, who had just returned to the house. Giving the old woman to understand that she would probably not return again, and begging of her to accept as a gift the various good things just purchased, she left the house, and quickly returned to Broadway. As she reached her hotel she saw Murdock on the point of leaving the one opposite, and guessed that he was about to return to Troy. CHAPTER IX. UNPLEASANT mmvmws. “ WELL now, Sybil,owill you tell me about this mysterious business which has been en- grossing your attention!” said Miss Chinnery, when she met her niece in their room, after her return to the hotel. “ You’ll know all about it in good time, auntie,” replied Sybil, not deeming it safe to say anything of her discovery to her amiable relative, whose gossiping tendencies were well known to her. Late in the afternoon they left New York, and reached The Towers about nine o’clock. When Sybil joined the family circle in the drawing-room, Mr. Woodville, who had been away from home when she started on her journey, looked at her with an expression that clearly indicated deep displeasure. “ I regret, Sybil, that you should have un- dertaken this mysterious journey to New York without having first consulted your old guar- dian, and, I confidently hope, your future father-in law 1” said he, in his pompous tones. “ I am very sorry, dear Mr. Woodville, that circumstances did not allow me to speak to you before leaving, but what could I do?” And she looked at him and smiled vivaciously, though she was elated with the success of her trip, but was anxious to be on good terms with him now. I “ It has been customary hitherto,” observed the banker after a short pause, “to consult me on matters appertaining to the administration of the Cherton property.” “You are under some misapprehension, for my visit to New York had nothing to do with the administration of my own preperty,” she said in a tone of friendly explanation. Mr. Woodville rose from his chair and left the room. ' He was clearly incensed with Sybil for hey-d ing ignored his authority, and would probably observe an attitude of rigid sternness toward her for the next few days. . Mrs. Woodville soon followed her husband, and then Sybil found herself alone with Joce- lyn. She noticed that he was unusually silent and reservsd, and though they were now alone he still observed this unfriendly attitude. “ Now, Master Jocelyn, why are you looking so glum and distant this evening?” she said with playful cordiality, as she seated herself , near him and gently tapped him on the arm. “ Oh, I have something to tell you, and I haven‘t got the courage to speak out i” And he looked at her with a pleading ex- pression in his blue eyes which indicated much anxiety of feeling. “Why should you be afraid of me? ' Jocelyn; you know that I am to be depend upon I” Still he was silent. “ Now, I’ll get angry with you if you behave in this way,” she continued. “ I’m afraid that you‘ll be angry with me under any circumstances,” he said in a low, vmce. “ So long as it has no reference to one sub- ject, which We have agreed not to revive ex— cept under great pressure, I will listen to you in the most amiable of moods.” He looked at her steadily fora moment, then, clasping her hand with friendly warmth, said: ‘ "Sybil, I am in love!” “ I’m delighted to hear it,” she answered cor- dially. “nThe beloved one’s name is Alice Temple. ton. . r Sybil started. . “ Arthur Templeton’s cousin?” she asked. - “The same.” “ But is she not engaged to Arthur!” “ He wishes to make her his wife, certainly; l but there is no love between them, and it would. involve a sacrifice on both sides if his purpose were efiected.” “ Does he know of your intentions?” she asked in a voice that betrayed considerable anxiety. “ No; we thought it better not to let him know anything about it until we are married. He is leaving Pinewood tomorrow, and being aheadstrong and impulsive man, he might“ I have refused his consent to the marriage and taken Alice of! with him. 80—", , ' He paused, and a smile played about the corners of his mouth as he looked at her with. eyes brimming over with humor and delight. “ So what?” she asked, impatiently. “ We’re going off tomorrow. Alice isgoipg to live with a nice old lady until we can get married.” “You’ll do nothing of the kind, Jocelyn,” she remarked, in a tone of playful reproof. v I‘ “ You’re not going to betray me‘ now, Sybil?” he cried out, in a tone of genuine alarm. “ Betray you? I wonder at you saying such ' a thingl” After a moment’s pause, she added: “ When you see Miss Templeton to-morrow, instead of persuading her to run away, per- ’ 1 sends her to tell her cousin of her love for you, ' and of your desire to make her Mrs. Jocelyn » Woodville,” “ Are you mad, Sybil?” “ Do as I tell you, and you will not be sorry for having followed my advice.” 1 “But supposing Templeton refuses his sent, and insists on taking Alice away with g ‘ him, what then?" “ 011, Templeton will not refuse his k x l l i 113‘ l"._ y ‘ _...;_ -4.;...;.-....... _..._._‘\_x..1_ .14, . (I, I , A YOUNG ems ORDEAL. '~.. and I am sure that he will not take Alice away with him.” “ But he is leaving Pinewood, and he starts for the West in less than a fortnight.” “Is be leaving Pinewood?” “ Yes; Murdock enters into possession to- marrow.” “Take my word for it that Pinewood will remain in the hands of Arthur Templeton!” she said, in a solemn tone, which deeply im- pressed Jocelyn. “By Jove, Sybil, you surprise me!” be ex- claimed, as he looked at her noble face, which was looking sad and sorrowful now. ;,_ “ You will obey my instructions!” she asked, a moment’s silence. ' n '» .“Certainly!” (“Now kiss me, Jocelyn, and call me your c sister, for such I shall always be!" 9 My dear, dear sister!” he said, as he kissed her face with the hearty fondness of a bro'her. Unseen and unheard by Sybil and her com- panion, Mrs. W00dville had entered the room, and had been listening to the latter part of the above conversation. With a quick, angry » movement 'she now stepped forward and con- fronted them. “For some time back,” she said, passionate- ly, “ I have suspected that you were both con- spiring to defeat the arrangements wh?ch ha re been made for your welfare; but I little sus- . pected that you, Jocelyn, would have been privy to such an infamous plan as that which I have just overheard. I will instant‘y in- ‘ form your father of this shameful business.” “For‘Heaven’s sake, mother, do not act hastilyl” pleaded Jocclyn, as he placed him- self before the door to bar her exit. “You will create further complication if you mention the matter to Mr. Woodville now. Jocelyn is determined to marry Miss Temple- ton, and I cordially approve of his choice. Really, my dear madam, I would advise you to - reflect a little before speaking to your hus- band,” observed Sybil, in a tone of suppressed anger. “Sybil Vernon, your perfidy shocks me! I will not trust myself to speak to you now— false and treacherous girl!” And, so saying, Mrs. Woodville brushed past her son, and left , the room. “What on earth shall we do, Sybil?” cried out the young man despairingly. “ If my fa- ther should go in a tearing rage to Pinewood, and insult Templeton, then I will inevitably lose AliceJ' “You must try and see her to—night, then, if possible; and, if the worst comes to the worst, you will have to carry out your original plan, and remove her from Pinewood until matters take a favorable turn.” She was greatly agitated while speaking, and it was manifest that this incident had ex- ercised a most disturbing effect upon her mind. “But you forget that Templeton will pro- hably leave Pinewood tomorrow—at least, as far as I know," he said, urgently. “ Yes; but let us hope, at any rate, that something may happen to--” A The fear of failure rose up in her mind while she was speaking,‘and checked further utterance. The sole chance of success de- pended on that man Stevens; and how could she trust in him! Perhaps, when he reached Troy, he would again fall into the hands of Murdock, who would take good care to pre- vent him appearing at Pinewood, and so frus- traterrcompletely her last hope of aiding Ar- thur Templeton. As these thoughts were passing through her I mind, Mr. and Mrs. Woodville entered the I polled “me to do so. room. “ Is it true, Jocelyn, that you contemplate breaking the engagement which exists be- tween you and Sybil?” asked his father in a .voice of commanding sternness. ‘ He was pale with anger, and had evidently much difficulty in controlling his temper. ' “ Circumstances, my dear father, have com‘ The engagement was never agreeable to either Sybil or myself, and-3’ “ I see, I see!” broke in the other abruptly. “My wishes are to be' ignored; the cherished designs of my life are to be frustrated to suit your whims and fancies. But I would have you know, Jocelyn, that in the regulation of these affairs I am master, and I will tolerate no interference with what concerns the honor and dignity of my family.” “ Surely y u can have no objection to Miss Templeton?” urged Jocelyn, in a voice of en- treaty. ' “Yes, sir, Ihave. Your future wife shall be Stbil Vernon, end—” "I have decided now to decline your son’s proposal, Mr. Woodville. Pray understand that!” said Sybil, firmly. “Oh! I dare say you wish to shield Jocelyn as much as possible; but I am responsible for your future, and I am not going to let you sac- rifice yourself for the sake of some romantic whim!” r. Woodville said this in a calmer voice. He was, as USUal, confident of overcoming all opposition to his wishes, and this no doubt helped to allay his anger. “I have no doubt that this is a trick of Ar- thur Templeton’s,” chimed in his wife. “He thinks that if he can separate you two, why then he might have a chance of obtaininga l‘lCh wife for himself and a rich husband for his cousin.” “He knows nothing whatsoever about the matter," said J ( celyn, energetically. “ Oh, you’re a silly boy, Jocelyn l” remarked his fath r, contempmously. “Templeton is a sharp and clever fellow, and he has managed to entangle you by the aid of his pretty cousin. Ic-an see it all plainly now. To-morrow I‘ll call on this astute gentleman and settle the matter for a few thousands. He wants money badly, and that is at the bottom of all this trickery.” “I assure you, father, that Templeton is per- fectly innocent of the conduct which you at- tribute to him. Do not insult the man by such an offer as that which you have just men- tioned. The consequences of your so doing might give us all tause for life-long regret!” And the young man was visibly affected as he said this. “Nonsense, Jocelyn, nonsense! I’ll see Tem- pleton to-morrow and arrange matters with him. You will please make arrangements for leaving here by the first train for town—at any rate you must go by the mid-day express; and I shall follow you in the course of a few days. Meanwhile Sybil will remain under your care," said Mr. Woodville, as he turned to his wife. ‘ Then he rose from his chair, and, with Mrs. Woodville, left the room, evidently under the impression that the young people would re- spect his wishes, and cease to offer any further Opposition to his designs. “There is only one thing to. be done now,” . said Jocelyn, when his parents had left the room. “I’ll go to Pinewood at once, and try to see Temp eton himself. I’ll endeavor to have afew words with Alice first. If father goes there in the morning he will inevitably de- feat my purpose unless I succeed in gaining Templeton’s consent tonight.” “I’m so confused and worried now, Jocelyn, that I w'll not trust myself to give advice. I can only assure you of my hearty wishes for the success (f your plans. To-morrow,” she added, soi‘emuly, “will decide my fate, and the fate of one who is very dear to me i” The tears rose to her eyes while she was speaking, and as be bent down and kissed her face with brotherly tenderness, she broke forth into a passionate fit of sobbing. ‘ “Leave memleave me 1” she cried. “Every moment is precious to you now i” Swiftly and cautiously he left The Towers, and hurried towardrPinewood. Entering the grounds, be rapidly approached the house, and having; reached to within a short distance of ' the front entrance, paused to consider the next step which it would be advisableto take. As his eyes scanned the building, he observed lights in the sitting-room; and he resolved upon at once approaching the window of this room, which was but a few feet abovetthe ground, to find out if he could attract the attention of Alice Templeton. Yes; she was in the room alone. He tapped gently at the window, and she started to her feet, and looked wildly about her; then she approached the window, which was partly open, thus enabling Jocelyn to address her in a low voice. “Alice—Alice!” he said, as he leaned for— ward and thrust his hand toward her. “Is that you, Jocelyn?” she cried out in a tone of alarm. “ Yes; I want to see you, dearest—urgently! Pray come out at once l” She started back from the window in evident alarm. Then, after a. moment’s pause, left the room, and reappeared before him in a few seconds. When they had exchanged the tender greet- ings of love, he noticed for the first time that she was in tears. “ What is the matter, dearest?” he cried out, as he gently wound his arm around her waist and led her away from the house to the shelter of a clump of neighboring trees. “ Oh, how can I ever tell you? But surely you, too, must have bad news?” she said, fal- teringly. He looked fixedly at her for a moment; then slowly withdrew a few paces from her, saying: “Alice, have you repented of your promise to me?” , “ Listen to me patiently, Jocelyn, and I will tell you all.” Then she paused for a moment, resuming again, in a tone of imploring tender- ness, “ I have been deeply touched by Arthur Templeton’s sufferings; and it seems to me that I have acted very selfishly in arranging with you to desert him when he is so lonely and friendless. This feeling has grown upon me to such a degree that I had decided to ask you to postpone everything until we had left Pinewood. In the course of a few days I would speak to Arthur, and tell him of our engagement.” “If you value my love, Aloe, you will have to give up that plan. Listen to me. My father knows of my love for you, and is coming here to-morrow to charge Arthur Tem- pieton with being privy to the match, and with having made it in order to procure a rich husband for you. Therefore, I mean to see Arthur to—night and candidly confess to him that we are engaged, and that no earthly power shall separate us!” ‘ “That is utterly impossible, Jocelyn! Aro thur is in such a depressed and glacmy state that we do not like to speak to him, even. He spent the greater part of the day at his pa- rcuts’ grave, and now he is in his own room, I believe. Could you not dissuade your father from coming here to-morrow? Tell him that you will never again see me—perhaps that will deter him from bringing such an odious chargo against my unhappy cousin.” “ How can I possibly do that, Alice!” he cried, in a tone of alarm. “ And do you think that I am base enougi to subject my cousin to the indignity which , would be involved in your father’s conduct!” she asked, with indignant emphasis. “Then tell Arthur Templeton to -morrow that we are engaged, and that I am willing to enter into a friendly understanding with him on the subject so long as he is willing to re' spect that engagement. Will you do that; dearest?” . And approaching her, he clasped her to hi“ breast. “ If he is better to-morrow I will do 80- Harkl—a footstepl” and she hurriedly with‘ drew from his embrace. “ It is Arthur blur self!” she added, in a low voice. “For God‘ sake, depart!” 1 110.5pr to her side and imprinted a lin- gering kiss open her responsive lips. .7 I 1., ’ ’And thus they parted for the night. , I \ CHAPTER X. “ONLY nus—r nova YOU snLL.” ON the following morning Sybil sent a mes- sage to Miss Eldred, requesting that lady to proceed to Pinewood at onco. Then, accom- panied by Jocelyn and her aunt, neither of whom was yet aware of her purpose, she left The Towers for Arthur Templeton’s residence. On arriving at Pinewood they found a group of servants and laborers at the door of the house, evidently waiting to give their old mas- ter a parting cheer on his leaving the “ old place." Sybil was informed that Mr. Templeton was occupied with Mr. Murdock. She insisted, however, on being instantly shown into the parlor, Jocelyn and her aunt and Miss Eldred remaining in one of the ad- joining rooms. Arthur Templeton, looking fagged and wor- ried, was standing near a table in the center of the room. The lawyer, looking as bland and amiable as usual, was addressing him in a tone of voice that clearly indicated a keen relish of the pro- ceedings. In a dim corner of the room an elderly lady was weeping silently. and a beautiful girl was bending over her, evidently trying to adminls- ter comfort. “ Miss Vernon i” said Arthur Templeton, inn Surprised tone, as he bowsd with haughty civfl- ity to Sybil. “ Mr. Templeton,” she said, as she approached him with outstretched hand, “let me first tell you how deeply grateful I am to you for hav- ing rescued me from a cruel death.” He pressed her hand, and smiled faintly. Murdock then essayed to touch her hand, but retreating from him quickly. she stared at him in silence for a few moments. “ Has Miss Vernon forgotten her old adviser -—her~” - The lawyer stopped suddenly. There was Something in her glance that disturbed even his equanimity. " “ I know you better than you are aware of l Turning to Templeton she added: “Are you about to surrender your property to this man?” And she referred with a scornful gesture to Murdock. “Certainly; but—” “You were going to say that I have no right to interfere, ” she said, quickly. “Your proceeding is a strange one, certain- 13’,” he observed, with a forced laugh. “It is! It is!” Up to this she had succeeded in controlling her emotion, but now the tears were glistening in her eyes, and there was an expression of etiger tenderness in her face. For a moment she could not proceed. Then, in a voice that vibrated With passimiate scorn, She cried out, while pointing at Murdock, “That man is a thief! That man has been l‘Obbing you for eight years! His claim is false! 6 those papers, Arthur Templeton!" And “he placed the vouchers in his hand. At this moment, Miss Eldred, followod by iss Chinnery and Jocelyn, entered the room, While several servants appeared at the door. “But where are my father’s receipts?” cried Ont Templeton, as he read the papers. “This is a foul trick-to cheat me out of my rigills!” yelled the lawyer, as, with pale face ami trembling limbs, he shrunk before the Wrathful eyes of Templeton. . “The receipts were given up to him by leveus, whom I traced to New York, and “Ibo has confessed the story of his perfidy— 3 cruel and heartless perfldyl” cried out Sybil. Then to Arthur, she said, in a tone of infinite enderness: “ Arthur TemplelOn, you saved my life, and I have been the means of restor- ydu your rights!" 8 could not speak. . A look of delirious joy and tenderness lit up firm. ondhe stretched his arms out toward ‘1 " AV'Y‘OUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. Jocelyn ran forward quickly, and “caught him as he was falling. Arthur Templeton had fainted! When he recovered consciousness, his first word was “Sybil!” Then they all withdrew—the lawyer was already on his way to Troy—leaving Sybil and Templeton together. “ Why are you crying, Sybil Vernon?” he said, in a faint voice, as he looked at her with love-fraught eyes. “ Because I am happy,” she replied, with— out raising her eyes to his face. “And yet for years I have regarded you as a proud and distant girl, headless of memories which were all in all to me, for they were linked with the days of my companionship with you.” “ Why should you have had such an un- Worthy opinion of me? What did I do to deserve it?” she asked him, in a voice of plaintive tenderness. “Best and noblest of girls, I misjudged you! Poverty and its attendant pains filled my heart with a sort of anger against my old friends; and so I lived on, a constant prey to doubts, and prejudices, and fears. I longed, yes, Sybil, I longed to tell you that though I seemed a stranger, to you, at least, I never could be one, for my mind was ever busy with thoughts of you.” He paused, and strove to master his feelings; but proud and defiant though he was, he gave way. and covered his face to hide the tears which were trickling down his cheeks. “ But why didn‘t you call upon me? Why did you shun me?" “Because I felt that I was forgotten,” he murmured. “ You were not forgotten for a single day.” He "grasped her hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it with passionate fervor. “Have you heard that I made a proposal to my cousin, Alice Templeton?” he asked, after a. moment’s silence. “ Yes.” “Only to-day she told me that she loved some one else, and that she could not be my wife.” “ And you feel the disappointment deeply?” she said, in a husky voice. “No, Sybil Vernon; for I, too, love some one far better than Alice, or any other creature in the world; in fact, I love her with such a deep and absorbing intensity of feeling that I care not what becomes of me if I fail to win her!" He stopped and placed his hand on her shoulder, and said, with a voice charged with tenderness, “Sybil—my Sybil-darling of my heart, will you be my wife?” With a cry of joy, she fell on his breast, and he folded her in his arms. and his lips met hels in a tremulous kiss of joy and love. In a. few minutes they left the room, look— ing both very radiant and happy. H .arty congratulations were then exchanged between the lovers and their friends. Arthur, in vary cordial terms, begged Jocelyn’s forgiveness for his unfriendly con- duct on a previous occasion, and added: “ You have gained the heart of a very good girl, J ooelyn, and Aiice has gained the heart of a very good fellow. I heartily wish you both every happiness!" Sybil did not fail to let Arthur know of Miss Eldred’s meritorious conduct, and the faithful housekeeper was at once installed in her old post at Pinewood. Of course, great difficulty was experienced in obtaining the consent of Mr. and Mrs. Woodville to the new arrangements; but eventually they gave way, and before long be- came fully reconciled to J ocelyn’s choice. Proceedings Were taken against Murdock, and he was sentenced to a long term of im- prisonment. Of course he had to surrender the title-deeds to Templeton, as well as a large sum of money which he had dishOnestly acquired by the pro~ case before mentioned. Stevens got off with a light sentence, and I I \ eventually lived a reformed life on a pension allowed him by Sybil. In one of the early days of spring in the new year, the leading citizens of Troy’a‘nd its neigh— borhood were in a state of great excitement. Carriages drove up to the doors of one of the leading churches and a brilliantlybttired ‘ party entered the sacred building. Ere long they issued forth again, the beauti- ful young wives leaning lovingly on their hus- bands, and smiling radiantly through their tears. Yes; Sybil is now Mrs. Arthur Templeton, and Alice is Mrs. Jocelyn Woodville. The union of these loving hearts was pro- served uninterruptedly for many years, and the trials and pains of the past were forgotten ' ' ‘ in the blissful happiness of their wedded lives. THE END. . BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD DIETWLIDMIBNS. Speakers. , Each volume contains 100 l e tinted from clear open t , 00ml)le tmtp tion of Dia 0 es, ramas and Recitations. .The Dime ~ peakers embrace twenty-four volumes, VlZ.: 1. American S aker. 13. School Speaker. 2. National Spggker. 14. Ludicrous Speak . 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth’s 8 er. 2' filwutionisgpeak it 3‘ ‘63}? £55.]. . umorous er. . um ‘ - 7. Standard Speaker. er. ,. 8. Stump S er. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. 9. Juvenile peaker. 20. Selects er. 10. S read-Eagle Speaker 21 Funny peaker. g. Dune Debater Sgeaker. . . 0 Exhibition S ker. 93. D ect . 24. Dime B01313:a of Recitations and These books are re lete with choice pieces for School-room, the 100 Declamations and Recitations in Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages. em. brace thirty books, viz.. Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Sixteen. ., Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Seventeen. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Eighteen. Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Nineteen. Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Twenty-one, Dialogues N 0. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty-two. Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues N o. Twonty—three. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-four. Dialogues No. Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-six. Dialogues No. Twelve. DialoguesNo.Twent ~seven. Dialogues No. Thirtee . Dialogues No. Twen -e t. Dialogues No. Fourteen Dialogues No. Twenty- Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. . _ 15w25Dlalogues and Dramasineachboox. Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 20 Cents. For Schools, Parlors Entertainments and the Arm ateur S e, comprising! Original Minor Drama. Comedy. arce, Dress eces Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitation! and Readings, new rnd standard. of the ten celebrityan interest. Edited by Prof.A.lL ll. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. Bmm‘sidDmn HATED-BEQKSm’FORdYOUNG Poona cover a w e ran 0 an ace an areespecially adapted to their Elia. \ Ladies' Letter-Writer. Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. FortuneTeller. Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket. Book of Verses. Ball-room Companion. Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty. \ Hand-Books of Games. Handbook of Summer Sports. Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing. Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving. Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianlsm. Guide to SwimminggV Handbook of inter Sports—Skating, etc Manuals for Housewives. 1. Cook Book. 4. Family Physician. 2. Recipe Book. 5. Dressmaking 8, Housekeeper’s Guide. ' linery. ' and The above publications for sale by all newsdealers , ore—will hesent. st- onrecel t'of \ BEADLE & was, Winn»: Sal: N. Y? by l I y I is " collec- I ibition. for Homes, etc. 75 to‘ book. America: Copyright Novels and the» Cream of Foreign Novelists, Unabridged, FOR ' The Cheapest Library Ever Published! r / FIVE CENTS! 1 The Masked B‘ide or, Will She Man-y Him! ByMrs. RegdCi-owell. 2 Wu It Love? or, Collegians and Sweet- hearts. By Wm. Mason Turner M. D. 3 fi Girl grim»: By Baguey '1‘. Cam bell. rave ear 3 or tartlingl trange. Arabella Southworth: y , . Bessie Raynor, the Work Girl. By William Mason Turner, M. D. The Secret Marriage. B SaraClaxton. A Daughter of Eve; or, linded by Love. Mrs. Reed Crowell. Heart to cart. B Arabella Southworth. 9 Alone in the Worl ' or The Young Man‘s Ward. By the author oi “ Clifton," etc. 10 A Pair of Gray Eyes. By Rose Kenned . 11 Entangled; or, A Dangerous Game. y Henrietta Thackeray. 12 His Lawful Wife; or, Myra, the Child of Adoption. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 13 Madca , the Little nakeress or, The Naval et’s Wooin . y Corinne ushman. 14 Win 1 Married lm. B Sara n. 15 A air Face. By Bertie Campbell. 16 Trust Her Not; or,A True Knight. By - t LeiCester. 17 A Lo al Lover. B Arabella Sonthworth. 18 His do]. By Mrs. ryReed Crowell. 19 The Broken Betrothal; or. Love versus te. By Mary Grace Halpine. 2O Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, The r Lost Heir. By Agile Penna. 21 Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Mar- fl Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. 22 e Bride of an Actor. By the author of “ Alone in the World " “ Clifton,” etc. 23 Leap Year; or, Why. he Proposed. By Sara n 24 Her‘Face Was Her Fortune. By Elena ‘ nor Blaine. 25'Only a Schoolmistress; or, Her Untold Secret. By Arabella Southworth. 26 Without a Heart. By Col. P.I raham. 27 Was She a Coquette? or, A trange ‘ Courtship. By Henrietta Thackeray. 28 Sibil Chase; or, The Gambler’s Wife. By Ann S. Stephens. 9 For Her Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton. uet Girl. B Agile Penne. mind}: i B , u arr e. y ary A. Denison *Mariana, the grime. Donna ' or, Arabella. Southwert’h. and Lilies. B The Three isters. By Alice Flemin . A Marria c of Convenience; or,gWas He 3. Count Bv Sara Ciaxton. All Against Her. By Clare Augusta. Sir Archer’s Bride; or, The Queen of His Heart. By Arabella Scuthworth. 37 The Country Cousin. Rose Kennedy. 38 His Own A nlnfior, Trust Her Not. By Arabella Sout wort . 9 Flirtation; or, A Youn Girl's Good Name. By J acpb Abarbanell, (Bafiph Royal.) 40 Pledfied to Marry. By Sara Claxton. 41 Biin Devotion. By Alice Fleming. 42 Beatrice, the Beautiful; or, His Second . Love. By Arabella Southworth. 48 The Baronet’s Secret. B Sara Claxton. 44 The Onlg Dan liter; or, rather against ' Lover. ' y Alice eming. 1 4.) Her Hidden Foe. ‘ By A. Southworth. 4.6 The Little Heiress; or, Under a. Cloud. By Marx A. Denison. 47 Because 8 e Loved Him; or, How Will 43 In spiioByrArlioe Fleimng‘ J ’ Re n o erse i" or eannette s ration. By s. R. Sherwbod.’ W 49 His Heart’s Mistress; or Love at First Sight. By Arabella Southworth. 50 The Cuban Heiress' or, The Prisoner of , La Vintresse. Mrs. A. Denis‘on, 51 Two Young iris. By Alice Fleming. 52 The Win c Messenger; or, Risking All i . By Mrs. Ma Reed Crowell. es Hope, the Ac ress. By William in Turner, M. 54 One Woman’s Heart; or. Saved from the Street. B George S. Kaitne. 55 She Did ot Love Him; or,hStoopingto 0049 U! 99W “793 (0909910 459! lb“ “HO ,« Conquer. By Arabella Southwort . £8 Love-Mad; or Betrothed Msrrl Divorced . an —. B m. Mason Turner. .D 57 A Brave irl. B Alice Fleming. 58 The Ebon Mas ; or, The ysterlous Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 59 A Widow’s Wiles. By Rachel" Bernhardt. ‘60 Cecil’s Deceit. 61 A Wicked Heart. . 62 The Maniac Bride. By Margaret Blount 63 The Creole Sisters. By Anna E. Porter. 64 What Jealousy Did. B Alice Fleming. 65 The Wife’s Secret. B‘Ryacol. Juan Lewis. 66 A Brother’s Sin. By hel Bernhardt. 67 Forbidden Bans. By Arabella Southworth. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton. By Sara Claan 8 Weavers and Wen. By M. E. Brendon. 69 Camille. By Alexandre as. ,, 70 The Two Or hans. D'Enery. 3 71 M Young ife. By Young Wife: usband. ‘ 72 The Two Widows. ByAnnle'ihoms. 73 Rose Michel. Bylsudnss. - f\ \ i l 74 Cecil Castlemaine’s G 1 e; or, The Story ofa Broidered Shield. B u a. 75 T1110 Black Lady of una. By J. 8. Le anu. 76 Charlotte Tem le. B Mrs. Rowson. 77 Christian Oak e ’s istake. By the author of “ John H ‘fax, Gentleman,” etc. 78 Mg Young Husband; or, A Confusion in t 0 Family. By Myself. 79 A ueen Amongst Women. By the ant or of “Dora Thorne," etc, etc. 80 [gar Iétord and Master. By Florence arry . 81 Lucy Temple, Sister of Charlotte. 82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. 83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas. 84 The Laurel Bush. By the author of “John Halifax, Gentleman.” 85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. 87 The Romance ofa Poor Young Man. y ve Feuillet. 88 A Terrible Deed; or, All for Gold. By Emma Garrison Jones. 89 AThGilded Sin. By the author of “Dora 0 7 in, etc. 90 The Author’s Daughter. By Mary H Witt o . 91 The Jilt. By Charles Reade. 92 Eileen Alanna. gyDennis O‘Snlilvan. 93 Love’s Victory. y B. L. Fa eon. 94 The Quiet Heart. By Mrs. O phant. 95 Lettice Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh. 96 Haunted Hearts. By Rachel Bernhardt. 97 Hugh Melton. By Katharine King. 98 Alice Learmont. By Miss Mulock. 99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lovers. By Mary Patrick. 100 Through Fire and Water. By Fred- erick Talbot. _ 101 Hannah. By Mss Mullocx. 1 92 Peg “roilington. B Charles Reade. 103 A esperatc Deed. yErskine Bo d. 104 Shadows on the Snow. By B. .Far- Jeon. 105 The Great Hoggarty Diamond. By W. M. Thackeray. 106 From Dreams to ‘Vaking. By E. L nLinton. 107 our 20 )1]! By F. W. Robinson. 108 The Sad ortuncs ofthe Rev. Amos Barton. By George Eliot. 109 Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses. By B. L. Far eon. 110 The andering Heir. By Charles e. 1 1 1 The Brother’s Bet; or. Within Six Weeks By Emilie Fl gare Carlen. 112 A Hero. By Miss ulock. 1 1 3 Paul and. Virginia. From the French of Bernardin De St. Pierre. ' 114 ’Twas 1n Trafalgar’s Bay. By Wal- ter Besant and James Rice. 1 15 The Maid of Killeena. By Wm. Black. 1 1 6 Hett . By Henry Kingsley. 117 The ayside Cross‘ or, The Raid 0! Gomez. By Captain E. A. man 118 The Vicar of \Vakeiield.' By Oliver Goldsmith. 119 Maud Mohan. By Annie Thomas. 120 Thaddeus of Warsaw; By Miss Jane Porter. . 121 The King of lilo-Land. By B. L. Farv eon.. 122 Love], the Widower. By W. M. Thack- eray. . 1 3 An Island Pearl. ByB. L. Fameon. 1 4 Cousin Phillis. . 125 Leila; or, The Si e of Grenada. By Ed- ward Bulwer (Lord L ton). ‘ 126 When the Shi Comes Home. By Walter Besant and ames Rice. 127 One of the Famll . By James Payn. 128 The Blrthright. y‘Mrs. Gore. . 129 Motherless; or, The armer‘s Sweetheart. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. _ 130 Homeless' or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. By A ert W. Aiken. 131 Sister against Sister; or The Rivalry c! Hearts. By Mrs. Mary Reed drowell. 132 Sold for Gold. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 33 Lord Roth’s Sin. By Georgiana Dickens. 4 Did He Love Her ? ByBartley T. Camp- hell... 5 Sinned Against. By Lillian Love 3 3 joy. 36 Was She His Wife i By Mrs. Mary Crowell. 37 The Village on the Ciifl‘. By Miss Thackeray. 38 Poor Valeria. ByM V aret Blount. 39 Mar aret Graham. y G. P. R. James. 40 Wit out Mercy. ByBartlefiél‘Campbell. 4] Honor Bound. By Lillian vejoy. 42 {leeing from Love. By Mrs. Harriet rv . 43 Ab‘agucted‘; or, A Wicked Woman‘s Work. A Bett Winwood 4 4 as: n Mai-r1. e. Lillian . In i339. Lives. BByyMi-s. m / HM III ennui-nu III iii-d I-Ii-l 5Two G mu. I HH hill-1H H l-H-ih-Il-I H til-l HHI‘HHH 146‘ A Desperate 'Venturc or, For Love‘s Own Sake. By Arabella Sou worth. 147 The War of Hearts. By Corinne Cosh» man. . 148 Which Was the Woman"! or, Strangely Misjudged. By Sara Claxton. ous Girl or, SheWould Be 149 An Ambit 1;! An Actress. By Frances elen Baveifigrt. ~ 1 50 Love Lord ofAll. By Alice Ma ming. 5 A Wild Girl. ,8 Corinne One man. 5 A Man’s Sacri cc. By Ban-let Irvin . 5 Did She Sin. 1133 Mrs. Ma? Reed Crows 5 He Loves Me ot. BI illian Love 0y. 5 Winning Ways. By argaret Bloun 5 What She Cost Him; or. Crooked Paths. By Arabella Southworth. 5 A Girl’s Heart. By Rett Winwood. 5 A Bitter Mistake é or,A Young Girl’s Foil . B Agnes Mary helton. 59 La Vow‘ or, The Mother‘s Secre . By the Late Mrs. B. F. Ellet. 20 Buying- a Heart. By Lillian Love 0y. 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 cm ODGIIFNNH elen’s 1 Pearl ofPearls. Bg A. P. Morris, r. 2 A Fate-fill Game. y Claxton. 3 The t‘reoie Cousins; or, Falseas Fair. By Philip S. Wame. '4 A Suuthing Ordeal; or, May langley’s Mad Marriage. By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens. 5 A Strange Girl. By Albert W. Aiken. 6 A Man’s Sin. BfTRett Winwood. 7 The Hand of ate; or, The Wreck of Two Lives. By Arabella. Southworth. 8 Two Fair Women. By Wm. MTm-ner. 69 Tempted Throu h Love; or, One Woman‘s Error. By llian Lovejoy. 170 Blind Barbara’s Secret. By Mary Grace Halpine. 171 A Woman's IVitchery. By S. Claxton. By Corinne 172 Black Eyes and Blue. Cushman. 173 The Cost of a Folly. By Georgiana Dickens. ‘ 174 ghehble’retty Puritan. By A Parsons a r. 175 Is ove a Mocker ’9 or. Revenge is Sweet By Arabella Sout worth. 176 Adria, the Adopted. By Jennie Davis 1’7 Burton. For the Woman He Loved; or. Fm' ful Links. By Agnes Mary Shelton. l 78 The Locked Heart. By Corinne Cushman. 1 79 Parted by Treachery. By Hariiet Irving- 180 Was She a Wife? By Rett Winwood. 181 Under a Cloud. By Sara Claxton. 182 An American Queen. By G. Mortimer- 183 A P- int of Honor. ByLillian Lovejoy: 184 Pursued to the Altar. By Corinne . Cushman. ~ 185 Put to a Test. By Georgiana Dickens. 186 The Terrible Truth; or, The Thornhursi '/ Mystery. By Jennie Davis Burton. 187 Outwitted by Herself; or, A Mother‘s Scheme, By Arabella Southworth. ‘ 188 Florette Child of the Street' or, A Pearl Beyond Price. By 001. Prentiss raham. 189 Her Guardian’s Sacrifice; or, A Nan” in the Balance. By Sara Claxton. - 190 Pretty and Proud. By Corinne Gunman! 191 A Woman’s Maneuver; onPurse; 110‘ Heart. By Lillian Lovejoy. 192 The Bitter Feud. By Jennie D. Burton 193 Breaking the Fetters; or. The Gypsy” Secret. By Georgiana Dickens. 194 The Mysterious Guardian; or, Lit“. ' Claire, the Opera Singer. By Corinne Custh 195 In the Balance; or, A Shadowed LOW' By Arabella Southworth. 196 Jule, the Jewess imam the Miser Milliol’ aire. By Dr. Noel Dun r. , 197 a) Sister’s Crime. By Agnes Mary 81101' I] 198 Wilma Wilde - or The Inheritance 0‘ , Hate. By Jennie I; vie Burton. 199 The Beantlflfl Demon. By W Helen Davenport. ' 200 Morlc Beeches; or. Girlish Charm! 3" Golden Bowers. By Corinne Cushxnan. 201 A Young Girl’s Ordeal; or, “ILov6Y°“ Still." By Sara Claxton. 202 Her Evil Genius. By Harriet Irving- 203 Passion’s Be risal; or, The 3811’” Between Them. y Ulllan LoveJoy. d. 204 file at I‘jlvgbert; or, The Gloved Ha” I By flip 8. am. y A new issue every week. Tan WAVIBIEY manner is for sale by all deals five cents per copy, or sent' by mail eeipt 0 six cents each. x y BEADIB AND ADAMS. WM ' ' i 98 William; street, New .Yortu .. ‘4 is: