ULIA EDWARDS Writes Exclusively for the NEW YORK WEEKLY, ‘Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1591. Oy Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. O Enierea at the Post Office, New Yor, as Second Class Maiter. 46. WITH CLEARER VISION. BY CARLOTTA PERRY. I saw to-night the man I loved Three little years ago ; I did not think so short a time Could change a mortal so! There were none like him in those days— So strong, so true, so wise; He had a lofty marble brow, And tender, soulful eyes. A voice of music ; hair by which The raven’s wing would seem But pale indeed; a face and form To haunt a sculptor’s dream. But when I looked at him to-night I saw no single trace Of the old glory; only just A very common face. No marble brow, no soul-lit orbs ; The face was round and sleek, That once to my love-haunted eyes Was so intensely Greek. I know full well he has not changed So very much. Ah, me! But I was blind in those dear days, Ané@ now, alas! I see. "Tis very dreadful to be blind Of course, and yet to-night I should be happier far if I Had not received my sight. One little thought will bother me— I only wish I knew Whether he still is blind, or if His eyes are open too. Office 31 P.O. Box 2734 N.Y. Rose St. New York, May 9, 1891. This Story Wil Not be Published in Bok Form, VU ) TEM WHICH WAS THE HEIRESS ? By Mrs. HELEN CORWIN PIERCE, Author of *“‘Vashti’s Fate,” ‘‘Married in Jest,” “The Unwelcome Guest,” “The False Champion,” *““*The Cheated Bride,” Etc. (‘A WOMAN’S MASTER” was commenced in. No. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ] CHAPTER XVII. THE PRINCESS RADITZKI1. The Lady Viva Axtel and her friend Miss Deforce | are due at the Countess Ripeau’s to-night. Lady Viva’s toilet is made early, and she goes, wonderful to relate, to Olive’s dressing-room for an hour. Whatever amazement Miss Deforce may feel at such an unheard of proceeding, she betrays none. My lady’s dress is of some pale green diaphanous material, with sprays of coral sparingly placed upon it, and in hér lovely yellow hair. She is very pale—much paler than usual—white and unreal, looking like a tortured spirit. Her great blue eyes are more brilliant than ever. The smile with which she greets Olive is a dazzling one. “Not dressed yet?’ she says, glancing at Miss De- force’s black siik, which she still wore. “T think ll not go out to-night,” Olive answers, coldly. “Oh, but you must. The Princess Raditzki is to be there. I want youto see her, child. She’s an old flame of Captain Lansdown’s, and as handsome as the sun. A black-eyed blonde, you know.” With all her distrust, with all her instinctive sus- picion of Lady Viva, Olive Deforce isnot on her guard now. She is some years younger than my lady, and in many things simple as a child, in spite of the experiences she had been through. It is a blow to her to hear that Ulric Lansdown has ever cared for another woman. , : A sudden overpowering desire seizes her to see the Princess Raditzki. ce, “She is a Russian lady,” Viva goes on. ‘**He met her first abroad. Iam not sure that he ever asked her to marry him. But he was very near it, and it is my Own opinion that she is in London now solely on his account. I have heard a good deal about the wowan, her beauty, her wealth, her many fascina- tions. It will be odd if our handsome captain re- sists them. I don’t think he will.” : Olive rises slowly and rings for her maid. **T believe, after all, I will go,” she says. am curious to see the princess.” ‘‘Ah, thatis well,’ Viva says. see you dress ?” : **If you like,” is Olive’s cold reply. ; : She chooses to-night, a dress of dead white silk which fits her superb young form perfectly, and she wears one large white rose in the dusk and perfumed masses of her hair. She is so stately and tall, she is so slim, girlish and lovely, that it might be Juno herself before she became queen of heaven. As the two ladies make their appearance in the crowded and glittering drawing-rooms of the Count- ess Ripean, more than one pair of eyes followed them in fascinated admiration. : Captain Lansdown is there, the most miserable, the most unhappy of men. But his face lights at sight of that girlish goddess in white silk. Lady Viva, making the tour of the rooms on Geof- frey Kenward’s arm, spies him before he has achance of speaking to Olive, and begs him to present her to the Princess Raditzki. : The captain consents to oblige her, though not very good-naturedly. He is longing to be beside Olive. The spell of the siren is over him sfill. ‘ The Prineess Raditzki 1s a siren too—a spendid enchantress—a womau whose beauty and heartless- ness, whose coquetries and caprices, have made her famous over half ge It is true that she and Captain Lansdown have met before; but itis also true that he is one of the few who have come without a scar out of the fire of her witcheries. Perhaps this last fact is the very reason why the error long, lustrous, almond-shaped eyes look 1im such a dazzling welcome now. _ She is very fair, with a skin as delicately tinted as arose-leaf. The hand she extends to him is snow- white, and glittering with diamonds. She is very gracious to Viva, but it is Lansdown at whom she looks, “T, too, “May I stay and | | | | } { ee, | Three Dollars Per Year, Two Copies Five Dollars. **HIS DEATH WOULD END ALL OUR TROUBLES,” HE SAYS, IN A SIGNIFICANT _Itis not easy, he finds, now he is there, to quit her | side. She has a thousand things to say to him, and |heis obliged to answer courteously, to smile and | look pleased, while he is racked with impatience ard disgust. Olive sees all—the dazzling loveliness of the prin- cess, the seeming enthrallment of the captain. She} is chatting gayly with the gentieman on whose arm | she leans, but she sees nothing but the handsome, | entranced face of the man who only this morning grew white as death at her refusal to marry him. “Did he lie to me then?’ she wonders; ‘‘or is his heart too shallow and. fickle to be constant to any love long ?” Lady Viva Axtel, as she flashes by in the dance, notes the troubled pain in the sweet dark eyes, the fluttering color of the dusk cheeks. Slight as the signs may be for others, and wellas Olive may vail her emotions, Lady Viva knows what thoughts are surging in that impetuous young soul. By the time Captain Lansdown releases himself from the Russian princess, Olive is the center of such a throng of worshipers that he cannot get within speaking distance of her. . The girl has never | been so radiant, so witty, so irresistible, as she is| this evening. She looks at the unhappy captain over | avea of people, and nods her haughty little head | patronizingly. Thatisall he gets from her to-night. | “Tfit will only work!” my lady thinks, drawing a hard breath; “if she can only be made jealous enough | of the princess, to marry Lansdown, it will atone some. Lady Viva has been in a most capricious mood all the evening, vexing poor Geoff’s faithful heart re- morselessly, But about this time. she becomes intoxicatingly gracious, sweet and winning to her humble vassal and slave. “My darling,’ the enraptured marquis whispers, ‘why are you not always so kind and good to me?” She looks at him with eyes half-love, half-mocking. “If L were not so often bad, you would not appreci- ate me when Iam good.” “You can never be so bad that I shall not worship you. “Youthink so now, but it would be very different if you could be put to the test really.” Geoff looks pained, “You know better than that, dear—a great deal better,” he says, sadly. “Why do you so often say such things to me? Is it that you doubt my love after ail?” ‘Ah, no, you are truer than most I know, I do think,” she adds, as his honest eyes cloud again, ‘that you have the faithfulest heart that everloved woman. But, then, I have leard you say that you loved honor more than you did me, So you see you could not love me if I were wicked, it I had done something very wicked, I mean.’’ ‘ She langhs merrily at his distressed and perplexed ace. “Thatis supposing an impossibility,” he answers, gravely. “I could never imagine such a thing.” “As your loving me still under such circum- stances ?”’ she asks. “Not that. I could never imagine you wicked. Oh, never, Viva, my own white-souled darling.” “That is all youknow aboutit,” Viva thinks, look- ing down, that neither he nor others may see the tears which rush to hereyes. ‘I wish [I were dead,’’ she thinks. “I wish I had died before that villain caine back to tempt me again.” The love which this handsome young captain of the guards has entertained for his idol, until the hour she received him, has had, nothing forced or unreasonable about it. Intrenched in that proud assurance, that lofty superiority which is supposed to be inseparable from a Lansdown, he has looked calmly on at the eftorts of others to distance him in the race. He sol- emnly believed, untilthe moment of defeat, that vic- tory would perch upon his banner, the hour that he willed it. He is too chivalrous a gentleman, perhaps. to have been conscious of this feeling. But itis proved by the fact that where his soul was calm before, itis a tumult now; that where he was content to wait be- | fore, he is mad with impatient longing now; that | when he was a cool, sensible, reasonable gentleman, | weighing both sides of a difficult question dispassion- ately, now, he owns to himself tnat he cannot live without the desire of his heart; that sooner than lose it he would gladly defy all the ghosts of his proud ancestors to raise out of their graves to prevent him. “She said it was not because she loved any one else,” he tells himself many times this evening. there is a chance—confound Princess Raditzki!”’ It is not Lansdown’s fault that though he and | Olive meet almost daily for the next month, some- times at one house, sometimes at another, they ex- change very few words. The Princess Raditzki goes everywhere, too, and while Olive is cold to haughtiness to him, while Olive evidently avoids him whenever it is possible, the blonde princess, with the long, dark, lustrous eyes, is ever gracious, sweet, and smiling, and in his un- settled, moody condition, takes possession of him, and wields an influence of which he is not himself really conscious. Mr. Montague Deforce is almost himself again. The cloud, whatever it was, that loomed in his hori- zon @ Short time since, has vanished. He1is himself, save for a certain shakiness of the nerves, natural, perhaps, after so dreadful a shock as he got that day in the library. He is triumphant, exultant, but tremblingly so. He can scarcely believe his own good luck. “T’ve only to keep a tight rein on Viva, and I may win the game yet,” he thinks. And so he may, if villainy and impudence count for more than anything else. ‘‘Mark Illsly ?” he tells Olive, when she questions him again, and he has to answer. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him. Awful scoundrel.” The effrontery of the man is almost sublime. “No friend of mine—indeed the worst enemy I ever had in my life,” he adds; and tells the truth in that, for a bad man’s worst enemy is eertainly himself. Olive does not believe him, but she is still no nearer the solution of the mystery. The brilliant London season is almost over. The twelfth of August approaches. A letter comes from Lord Axtel announcing his home-coming at no distant date. ’ Lady Viva submits the contents of this to Mr. De- orce. The letter has been a terrible blow to her, but she gives it to him with a smile, for she knows it will be worse, to him. Deforce’s face of consternation is something worth seeing. “Olive must marry Lansdown now. She shall!” he says. with a strange look, that for the moment de- forms the classic beauty of his face into positive hideonsness, Lady Viva shrugs her graceful shoulders slightly. “She must!” Deforce repeats. ‘Baron Lansdown is Lord Axtel’s oldest and dearest friend. He will let me alone when he knows I am the father-in-law of his friend’s son.” He stops, and laughs with angry enjoyment. “T never really hated any man but him,” he says. “Whatever he does to me, he can never play such a card on me, as I’ve got on him.” Lady Viva looks at him gloomily. “Whatif he is coming home about this very busi- ness?’ shesays. ‘‘Whatif he has seen Cecile ?” **Bosh !” cries Deforce. But he turns blue-white at the idea. **You had better hunt up mademoiselle, and marry her at once,” suggests my lady. “You had better tind a way to make Olive marry Captain Lansdown,” Deforce answers. ‘‘If I have to go to the wall I don’t mean to go alone, my sweet Viva. I'll tell everything; [ll tell such a tale of you that the man who worships you now shall curse the day he ever saw you.” “T think he does that now, poor fellow,” Viva an- swers, with white lips. *So 1 TONE, A WICKED LIGHT IN HIS EYES. “He may; but he doesn’t hate and despise you. He shall, if you desert me now.” “Wait till I talk of deserting you,” Viva answers, coldly. “The Marquis of Kenward could help to bring ; about the marriage if he would.” Lady Viva turns upon him with flashing eyes. “T won’t have Geoff in if. Haven’t I told you often? It’s bad enough to let him go on loving such a wretch as I am, without cheating him into being | such a villain as you are!” ‘“‘There’s no villainy in helping to bring about this matrriage.”’ ‘“‘Let me alone ; I can do it better alone.” She stands some moments with clasped hands, her head dropped upon her bosom, her-eyes bent upon the floor. , Suddenly she turns to leave the room. “What are you going todo?” Deforce asks. “No matter,” is the curtreply. “Ihaveaplan, It doesn’t concern you what it is.” CHAPTER XYIII. LADY VIVA’S LITTLE PLOT. Lady Viva goes straight from Deforce to Olive, Whom she finds in the music-room. Miss Deforce is not glad to see her, but she is civil, and the two young ladies exchange commonplace re- marks some moments. Then thereis a silence. It is Lady Viva who breaks it. “Poor Lansdown!” she says. Olive colors, and then grows pale. She looks at Viva anxiously, never suspecting, proud child, what story her beautiful impulsive face is telling. “T am sure something is wrong with Captain Lansdown,” Viva goes on. ‘He is such an old friend, you know, that I notice a change in him quicker than most would, and I never in my life saw a man so altered as he is in the last few weeks,”’ Olive grows a little whiter, and looks down, ‘“‘Altered?”’ she murmurs. ‘I wonder ifit can be the princess?’ Viva says, thoughtfully. “She is a dreadful coquette. It will be terrible if she has only been fooling him all this time.” Up goes Miss Deforce’s haughty little head. “Tf that is all, he will recover, won’t he?’ she says, scornfully, Viva laughs. “T dare say. Ithink myself that with all her coquetry, the princess means to marry him.’’ Olive’s crimson lips grow rigid in spite of her. It is with a very mechanical smile, and a very strange voice that she answers, untruthfully: **T hope so.” Lady Viva leaves -her presently, thinking as she goes: “She does love him.” , Later Captain Lansdown calls. rim. She has given orders that he is to be shown into the library, and thither heis conducted,in a state of some bewilderment, and a little agitated as well. It is the first time he has been at Axtel House since Olive has refused him. Lady Viva is not there, He sits down by one of the tables to wait for her. There is a photograph album on the table, and oddly enough itis open at a very fine and spirited likeness of Olive Deforce. Captain Lansdown forgets everything, where he is, what has brought him there, as he pulls the book toward him. The door opens, some one enters, but with his el- bows upon the table, his forehead supported upon his hands, his gaze upon the face that is heaven to him, the captain is oblivious of all else. It is Olive who has come in, not Viva. She starts violently at sight of Captain Lansdown. She has been told that Lord Elkanet had called, and asked for her. There is some mistake, she thinks, but she does not go away at once. She can see the edges of the album, and she is seized with an ungovernable Viva has sent for curiosity to know at whose. picture gazing so intently. She comes a little nearer, nearer fascinated. ‘ She looks over his shoulder, she sees her own pictured face, and at the same moment he quietly turns his head, and their eyes meet in along, thril- aoe gaze that both will remember to their dying ay. Lansdown rises from his chair. “Was it you who sent for me?’ he asks. posed it was Lady Viva Axtel.’’ His voice breaks the spell that is on Olive. She lifts her small head with the haughty move- ment he knows so well, but she does not meet his eyes again. “Tt. was not I.”’ “No, of course not,” he says, bitterly. She looks down, her lips tremble. She is shaking from head to foot with agitation, andit is as much as she can do to keep him from seeing it. He looks at her a moment. ‘“T have not given up the hope of winning you.” he says, in a low, unsteady voice; “you said you loved no one else; if that was true, I may hope to make you love me some day.” The black electric eyes lift suddenly. “You may not hope it,” she says, ‘you had much better spend your time trying to win the Princess Raditzki.” A dark frown crosses Lansdown’s face at mention of the princess. “If it was the princess I wished to win, I should,” he says, coldly. Olive shoots him one look and drops her eyes again. Lansdown takes a step toward her. “You know that I do not care for the princess, do you not?” he says. “Good. heavens, can you doubt that I care for no woman in the whole world but yon ? I never did, I never shall! And you will not even let me hope. Do you hate me?” “Oh, no, no!” she cries. “Thanks. Iam glad of that.” Unconsciously his own voice is bitter and sarcastic. Olive’s beautiful face is very white. Her lips quiver. “Tam very far indeed from hating you, Captain Lansdown,” she says, in an almost inaudible voice. In an instant heis beside her. It is as easy for love to hope as to despair, and something in}her agi- tated looks stirs him greatly. “Only say that you will try to love me, Olive. Promise that you will be my wife some time,’ he pleads, passionately. She grows whiter stillas she averts her face, and lifts her hand asif to prevent his coming nearer. “‘Never !” she answers, with set teeth. Captain Lansdown looks at her curiously. She does not love him of course; but why should it agitate her in this manner, to tell him so? He draws back with pained and puzzled looks. Olive glancing round, sees his face, and some swift emotion crosses her own. “Oh, forgive me,” she says, with sudden passion- ateness. “I don’t want you to suffer for me. What am I that you should so wish to marry me?" “You are the woman I love,” the guardsman an- sSwers sternly. “And a woman every way unworthy to be the wife of the future Baron Lansdown. You know it is so,” she cries excitedly, “you kuow it is so. If I loved you—the more I loved you the lessI would marry you.”’ Lansdown gives a llttle angry laugh. “Tf you loved me we would see about that.” In spite of her, her eyes droop under that fierce, yet tender gaze. Inspite of her, for she has a won- derful self-control, a fiery crimson sweeps her face. She stands trembling from head to foot, icy pallor one moment, hot blushes the next. Itis only an instant. Some prescience speaks to the heart of Captain Lansdown. With one swift stride he comes close, he takes her in his arms in spite of her, he looks down into her eyes with a masterful gaze. “Olive Deforce,” he says, “you love me, and you know it!” ‘Please to release me,” she says, looking so white and strange that he does so at once. She moves to the door, stands, with one pale, slim hand upon it, and turns her lovely face over her shoulder to look at him. “The more I loved you, the less I would marry you,” she says, in a voice that sounds sad and set ag fate itself. 5 Then the door opens, and she is gone. “If Tlive, she shall be my wife yet!” Lansdown says. It is fifteen minutes later; Lansdown ts alone in the library. Lady Viva comes to him at last, her lily-like face bright with smiling. “Am I not a good friend?” she asks. “Did I not contrive it well?” Lansdown lifts his anxious face inquiringly. Lady Viva laughs, “T knew Olive loved you all the time, so I sent for you, and then contrived to have her come and find you here. Have you improved your opportunity ? Is it all settied ?”’ “Nothing is settled,” he answers, gloomily. The shadow thatis on Captain Lansdown’s hand- some face is suddedly reflected in Lady Viva’s. “What did she say ?” she asks. i “T—T do believe she cares for me. But there is ange in the way—something about her father, I believe.’ i i and begins to walk about the room impa- iently. “T can’t help it,” he says; “I really have an wun- bounded aversion for Mr. Montague Deforce, and I dare say she has seen it. She may have heard, in- deed, something I said about him before I knew he was her father. I have been more eareful since. You know, Lady Viva, one cannot help his. likes and dislikes, I beg your pardon for saying such a thing to you, but I do detest that man!” “You need not beg my pardon,’ Viva returns, quickly. ‘‘What is it to me?’ “IT wish the man were dead!” said Lansdown, viciously. In her heart, Lady Viva echoes the wish, but she does not say so. “T believe he is a villain, and that she knows. it. That is why she will not marry me. She is just the sort of girl to do a thing of that kind.” “TI will find outif that is her reason,’ Lady Viva says, with a thoughtful look. ‘I am sure she loves you. Come in, a moment, in the morning, and see if I don’t have something to tell you.” To this Lansdown agrees. It. is two hours later, and the Marquis of Kenward listens to the recital of his friend’s woes, sympathet- ically, yet not without a touch of that feeling which makes misery love company. “Suppose,” he says to Lansdown, “that the reason she won’t marry you is because she knows her father is the villain we suspect him tobe. What will you do about it?’ “Tf she loves me,’?? the guardsman answers, firmly, ‘tand I believe she does, I will have herin spite of a hundred scoundrels like Mr. Montague Deforee.”’ The marquis smiles rather satirically,. Easily said, my dear Rick, but not so.easily done. IT think I have said the same myself several times in reference to the same gentleman. Curse him!’ he adds, with extraordinary savagery for so kind a soul as Geoffrey Kenward. “Before I will submit to what you have,” Captain censnogs says, lifting his clenched hand, I wi “Well, what?’ Geoffrey asks, his handsome dark face flushing. “Take that wretch by the throat and strangle the truth out of him.” “About what?’ the marquis asks, excitedly. “About Olive. I hate to call her Miss Deforce. I would stake my life there is not a drop of his blood in her veins.” “Oh,” Geoffrey says, gloomily, “his thoughts are always of Viva and her relations with this man. I the captain is still, like one “T sup- = * lag eel neceeradinsle latent teil than seal tint setae wei Si eS > THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. se vol. 46—No. 284 Soa s wish you would kick; I wish somebody would. IfI hadn’t promised I’d do it myself.” CHAPTER XIX. : LORD AXTEL AT HOME. Lady Viva goes at once from Olive's lover to Olive erself. “You fooled me nicely, did youn net?’ she cries out, yly, but reproachfully. ‘To think it was you poor es nsdown was breaking his heart about all this me ! : Olive throws up her little head like a young deer brought to bay—both her eyes and her face ablaze. “IT donot understand yon, Lady Viva,” she says, haughtily. “Oh, yes, youdo. It was you all the time, and you have refused him. How shameful of you! He told me all aboutit. We are very old friends, Captain er andi, Imever saw a man look so dread- ‘ul. ; _ Olive is silent but indignant. How dare Lady Viva come and question her like this? “Why did you refuse him, child ?”’ “T don’t know that I am obliged to tell you,” Olive answers, loftily. “Obliged? Certainly not. But I should be very glad to see you marry so well. And I am sure, now that I think it over, that you like him. You did not a him because you did not love him, did you now ?” : “¥ decline to tell you anything aboutit. My reasons are my own.” : Viva laughs. “My dear child, I did not mean to be intrusive; but ’'m fond of Ulric Lansdown and serry for him, and it’s such a very good family; you would be a baroness some day. My regard for your father must be my excuse——” Olive stops her there. ~“The less you say tometabout your regard for him the better. Do you think I am so easily de- ceived ?”’ Viva whitens a little. - “What a strange, incomprehensible girl you are, Olive. Do you mean to intimate that 1 have nota high regard for your father.” live’s red lip curls. “Intimate?t’ she repeats, secornfully. ‘Do you think I have seen you two together day after day without finding out how you both hate and fear each other, hypocrites as you are before others ?” Viva is deadly pale, but she laughs again. “You should go upon the stage, my dear. You are 80 dramatic. Why should I hate or fear your “The fact is enough for me,” Olive answers coldly. _ “But itis nota fact.” Olive similes, and says nothing. Lady Viva feels herself turning cold. What does this dreadful girl mean? What does she know or guess? Can she have overheard her and Deforce some time ? “T think you must be mad,” she says, and leaves the room. Mr. Montague Deforce is out, but the moment he comes in Lady Viva sees him, and tells him what has “T told you it was madness to come here,” she says. Deforce shrugs his shoulders. “It is nothing,” he says. “She has told me the ‘game thing. She said it the first time she saw you.” Viva’s large eyes widen. “Can she suspect anything?” “Tmpossible !”’ “She is not any too fond of you.” “I know it. Confound the girl, after all I have done for her, too.” ‘*After all we have both done for her,” says Viva, with significant and mocking bitterness, “it is strange that she loves neither of us.” Deforce scowls, as he can upon occasion. — _. “She doesn’t know all she owes us, and that is for- tunate, perhaps, for us both,” he says, angrily. “She has refused Lansdown again,’ Viva tells him. Deforce’s delicate, effeminate face darkens with a 100k of wrath, most unpleasant to see. “T have a mind to try if I can’t make her marry him,” he says, threateningly. “Oh, yes, do. I would exercise my parental authority if I were you,” Lady Viva says, in a mock- ee. 3 e scowls at her again. ‘ “Tf have a mind to try it. Ihave never tried com- mands.” . “And you had better not. She would only laugh at you. But you must take her aay from here, and a8 must go yourself. Lord Axtel may come and d you here.” . “IT believe rage would kill him if he should.” “You had better stay and face him then. That would be the luckiest ping that could happen for you and me just now,” Lady Viva says, bitterly.” He looks at her a mowent sharply, a sinister, wicked nae in his shining eyes. “Tt would be lucky for us,” he says, in a low, sig- nificant tone. ‘His death would end all our troubles.” Lady Viva gives him one glance and shrinks back cold and white. “It would not end mine,” she says, in an angry and altered voice. ‘I did not mean that.” “You need not look so frightened. I did not mean anything either,” he says, looking away from her. She watches him a moment, her hands clasped upon her forehead, some horror growing in her eyes. “You must go away from here to-morrow,” she says, sternly.. ‘‘Understand me, you shall not stay another night after this one in Axtel House. Will ou goteI meanit. Iknow you. Go to-morrow, or tell everything.” Mr. Montague Deforce mutters a very black and wicked oath under his breath. “What has come over you?” he demands, savagely. “What are you afraid of?” *You know what Iam afraid of,” she says, shud- dering and growing more excited every moment. “You ought to have gone to-day.” ~ Deforce takes a long breath and drops his eyes. - “My dear Viva,” be begins, in his every-day, silky voice. “I have not the slightest idea of staying here after to-morrow, though I don’t see any such urgent Teason for haste.” ; “You go to-morrow,” she repeats. “You need not be afraid of my letting Lord Axtel «That is not what I am afraid of—now.” He lifts his eyes to hers, and she returns his gaze unflinchingly. “Understand me,” she says, slowly. “If anything happens, [ throw all prudence to the winds. What- ever happens to me, I denounce you!” That moment some one knocks upon the door. Lady Viva goes herself and opens it. ‘My lady,” says the footman, who stands there, “Lord Axtel has come, and is asking for you.” Whiter than she already is, Lady Viva cannot get. She staggers a little at the suddenness of the blow, and for an instant everything whirls with her. But after a moment she rallies. “F will come instantly,” she says, to the man, and elosing the door again, goes back to Deforce. “You hear?’ she says, touching his arm with a shaking hand; “he has come! You must go at nce |” : “All right,” he answers, sullenly ; “I will.” “Make some excuse and get her away too. madness to have her here.” “Yes, yes—I will.” He does not look at her as he says it, and that froubles her. She knows the wretch so well. She stands and looks at him a moment. “Be careful,” she says. “I warn you, be careful what you do.” Yn an another moment she has gone to meet Lord Axtel. Deforce, after a brief communing with himself, 8 to his own room, ¢ - _ He is safe he thinks, as long as his enemy does not meet him face to face. His name he will not know if he hears it. > Lord Axtel is in the long saloon next the drawing- room, sometimes called the Red Room, because its earpet of rich velvet pile, its satin upholstery, and broeaded hangings are of a rich wine-like hue. He is little altered since we saw hii last. The tall, trim soldierly igure would be conspicuous any- where. Heisahandsome man yet, handsomer for tlie contrast his snow-white hair and heavy brows make with his large and lustrous black eyes. He stands with one arin on the covered mantel- piece midway of the room. His eyes, bright and pee as the far-sighted eagle’s, are leveled ternly at the door. They do not alter one shade of their expression as Lady Viva, his niece and heiress, opens it and stands before him. ; hey have not met in more than twelve vears, but he would have known her anywhere. She is one of those whose strong individuality defies the change of years, She is more than commonly beautiful to- night, as all lovely women are under excitement, but he does not sce it, he never thinks of it, He is @ gentleman, and advances courteously to meet her, but his hard, cold eyes do not soften; he offers no greeting kiss, he does not smile. He may be very unjust, but for this girl his own _ ehild would be living now to bless him. The thought makes him bitter, Viva is as calm, courteous, chi and statel There is an odd resemblance between the two, different as they are. The instant she meets her uncle’s eyes, Viva knows that they are the eyes of her judge, but she does not look in the least like a criminal, as she lifts her smali patrician head, and meets his look with large - Plue innocent orbs, as proud as his. “You are welcome home, uncle,” she says, as he takes her hand. “Thanks,” he answers, placing a chair for her and taking one himself. ‘‘When did you see your step- father last?” There is small time to reflect upon her answer. She cannot even guess how much or how little he “knows. If he knows all, the trnth cannot make that Sey ee Ifhe only guesses at the truth, a lie is eronly chance. Thus she reasons. Yet she tein- porizes. “There was a report that Mr. Tlisly was lost at sea,” she says, looking at him calmly. “Ah, indeed?” Lord Axtel answers, politely. “It It is as he, is doubtless his ghost that haunts Axtel House so persistently.” ; Viva’s blue eyes meet her uncle’s steadily. -“T hope not. I have never seen wu ghost, and I should not like to do so.” Lord Axtel smiles at last. but not pleasantly. Just so, Viva thinks, with a shiver, Olive smiled at her a few hours ago. “Oh! Then it must have been himself,” Lord Ax- tel says, coldly. “He has been seen to enter this house. He can searcely have changed beyond your recognition, Viva.” Lady Viva sits rigid but composed. So he knows everything. Nay, not everything—he cannot. She will not abandon the contest yet. “T should think not, indeed,” she answers, calmly. “Who saw him ?’”. ; “Do you deny that he was here?’ “He may have been. But not with my consent and approval.” That is truein a sense. She had not approved of Defoftce taking up his abode at Axtel House, though she Rab hg it. “Was this done without your consent and ap- roval?” asks the slow, caustic voice of the earl, as e shows her some half-dozen forged checks drawn to the order of Mr. Montague Deforce. A hot thrill of surprise and anger shoots through Viva. After all her sacrifices Deforce has done this. “IT never saw them before,” she says, with white compressed lips. “Perhaps you do not know who Mr. Montague De- foree is,’’ Lord Axtel says. “Who is he?” she answers. The ear! eyes her critically a moment. He rather admires her coolness and self-possession. It shows that her mother’s (the Axtel) nature predominates, and that she has little of her father’s—the obnoxious artist. ‘‘Montague Deforce and Mark Hlsly are one and the same, an artful villain. I should have known him under any disguise. But you were such a child at the time. He may have deceived you.” Here is the crisis. Utter, ignominious defeat and exposure stare herin the face, Nothing but a bold unblushing lie can save her, if even that can. She resolves to try it. : ‘““Montague Deforce and Mark Illsly one?” she says, slowly. “Is it ssible? Yes, I see. You are right. I was troubled all the while with that vague likeness to some one I had known and hated. ut his daughter is so lovely, and so charming in every way, that I invited them here. They have been visiting me. They have been staying at Axtel House for weeks.” “Here?” cries the earl, in a sharp, ringing voice, his eyes flashing. “Here,” Viva answers, dropping her head and elasping her hands. It is well done; as wellas any actress could have done it, perhaps, and it deceives Lord Axtel. | “Is heherenow? Viva, answer me. Is that vil- lian under the same roof with me to-night ?”’ he asks. Viva looks at him once more. Who could doubt such eyes? “He is not,” she says, earnestly. “He went away this afternoon.” Lord Axtel’s head droops upon his hand an instant. He heaves an unconscious sigh. “His daughter was with him, you say ?’” Lady Viva winces a little. “She was.” : “How strange,” the earl saysto himself, but so loud hat his niece hears, ‘‘that the child of the only man ever really hated should have made such an im- pression upon me.”’ , Without looking up, he asks: “Where is he now?” “T do not know.” | : Inwardly, Viva resolves that willing or unwilling, Deforcé shall take Olive away from London and Lord Axtel to-morrow. Little she guesses what to-morrow will bring forth. (TO BE CONTINUED .) This Slory Will Not be Published in Book-Form, ee MON A; en OR, THE SECRET OF A ROYAL MIRROR. By MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON, © Author of “Stella Rosevelt,” “The Forsaken Bride,” “Queen Bess,” **That Dowdy,” ; “Virgie’s Inheritance,” Etc. {“MONA” was commenced in No. 12. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] ; CHAPTER XXXIl. MR. RIDER RECEIVES ANOTHER SET-BACK. Jake Walton, as the supposed muner gave his name, was thoroughly searched by Detective Rider, after reaching the station-house, but nothing sus- picious was found upon him except a revolver. He had considerable money, but nothing to indicate that he had ever been concerned in any robbery. or to confirm the belief that-he was other than he pre- tended to be. He submitted to being searched with the utmost indifference, but drawlingly remarked during the operation, he “supposed they’d take bail—he wasn’t used to bein’ shut up, and it would come pretty tough on him.” “Of course the magistrate will accept suitable bail,’ said Rider, not imagining that the prisoner could find any one to go security for him to the large sum likely to be asked. The miner requested that a lawyer might be sent to him at once, after which he coolly sat down, drew out a morning paper, and began to read. Later in the day a legal gentleman presented him- self in his cell, and there followed a long consulta. tion between the two, and toward evening the lawyer, after consulting with a police justice, called at the Southern Hotel and inquired for a lady by the name of Mrs. J. M. Walton. Yes, there was such a person stopping there, the clerk informed him, whereupon the lawyer sent up his card to her with the request that she would grant him a private interview. The messenger returned in about fifteen minutes, saying the lady would receive him in her private arlor. Upon being conducted thither. he found a andsome, elderly woman awaiting him, and imme- diately explained his business, relating the circum- stances of the arrest of Jake Walton, and concluded by telling her that he had been employed as counsel for the. young man, who had sent him to her to arrange for bail. Mrs. Walton appeared to be greatly disturbed by these disagreeable tidings. She said she had come there expecting to meet her son, who had just re- turned from Australia, and it was very trying to be told that he had been arrested for theft. Then she inquired what amount would be required for secu- rity. The counsel named the sum fixed by the police justice, whereupon Mrs. Walton appeared to be con- siderably agitated for a moment. “T am an entire stranger in the city,” she re- marked, recovering herself somewhat. “I know no one to whom I could appeal to become bound for so large asum. What can I do?’’ “Have you plenty of means at your disposal, madam ?” her companion inquired. “Yes, I could give bail to almost any reasonable amount, only being a stranger here I fear it would not be accepted from me,” the lady returned, with a look of anxiety. “No; but [thinkT can suggest a way out of that difficulty, said the lawyer, with a crafty smile. “Then do so,” said Mrs. Walton, quickly; “I am willing to pay handsomely to secure the release of my son from his uncomfortable position.” “Very well. Then if you can command the sum named you can depositit inone of the city banks and I will attend to all other formalities for you. Of course the money will be returned to you after the trial of your son.” “Could such arrangements be made?” Mrs, Walton eagerly inquired. “Certainly. All thatis required is sufficient security to insure the young man’s appearance at his trial, and then he will be released.’ “Then I can arrange it,” the woman said, appar- ‘ently greatly relieved; and after discussing ways and means a while longer, the lawyer took his leave, A few hours served to arrange matters satisfac- torily to all parties. The sum required was deposited in one of the city banks, and the cashier was em- »owered to pay it over to the City Treasurer if Jake Valton failed to appear at the time named to answer to the charge of complicity in the Palmer diamond robbery. He was then released, the lawyer was hand- somely remunerated for his efficient services, and a ; alton and herson returned to the Southern otel. It was on their way thither that they entered the ear in which Mona was also returning to the hotel, and when she made the discovery that the woman had on the very dress which the charming Mrs. Vanderbeck had worn on the day of the Palmer rob- ry. ; We know what followed—how she immediately sent on to Ray for the scrap of cloth, and how, later, she found that it exactly fitted the rent in the dress. We know, also how, immediately following this discovery, she sought the headquarters of the detec- tive force, Where she opportanely encountered Mr. Rider, and related to him the discoveries which she had made. f Mrs. Walton had not appeared personally in con- nection with the formalities regarding the release of her son. , Everything had been conducted by the shrewd lawyer, so Detective Rider had not met her’ at all; but he telt contident, when Mona described her, together with her dress, that she was not the mother of Jake Walton at all, but one of the “gang” who had so successfully robbed different parties during the last two or three years. ; The moment the young girl disappeared from the office, after her interview with him, the de- tective executed a number of antics which would have done credit to a practiced athlete. “The girl isa cute little body,” he muttered, with a chuckle,.as he sat down to rest a moment, and plan his course of action, ‘‘and itis lucky for me that she happened to be in St. Louis just at this time and stopping at that very hotel. wonder,” he added, with a frown, “that [ didn't think that the woman who gave bail, might be one of the gang. By Jove!” with a sudden start, ‘I believe that money, which she deposited in the bank as se- curity, is only a blind after all, and they both. intend to skip! What a wretched blunder it was to accept bail any way. But [ll cage both birds this time, ouly what Ido must be done quickly. They must have done a smashing big business in diamonds,” he went on, musingly; “and there are evidently two women and one man associated. This Mrs. Walton is doubtless the old one who tricked Dr. Wesselhoff, and that red-headed Mrs. Vanderbeck, I am still con- tident, is none other than the Widow Bently, who did Justin Cutler and Mrs. Vanderhkeck out of their money. Tdjust like to get hold of all three! Tom Rider, if you only could, it would be a feather in your cap such as doesn’t often wave over the head of an ordinary detective, not to mention the good round sum that would swell your pocket-book. But half a loaf is better than no bread, and so here goes! V’ll arrest them both, and shall object to anybody going bail for them.” Highly elated over the prospect before him, the man brushed lis neat suit until there wasn’t an.atom of dust upon it; polished his boots until he could see his own face reflected in them; rearranged his neck- tie in the jast new style, then ran lightly down stairs, and hastened with quick, elastic tread toward the Southern Hotel, where he expected to accomplish such great results. ‘ . * * x * * “Where have you been, Ruth?’ exclaimed Mrs. Montague, in an irritated tone, as Mona entered that lady’s parlor upon her return from the detective’s office. “I wish you wouldn’t go out without consult- ingme, I’ve been waiting here for a long time for you to mend these gloves.” ; “T am very sorry,” Mona returned, flushing, “but after you went out to drive I assisted the chamber- maid, who was nearly crazy with the toothache, to put some of the rooms in order; then, as you had not returned, I went out for a little walk.” “Well, I don’t mind about the walk, but I didn’t bring you with me to do chamber-work in every hotel we stop at,” sharply retorted the much annoyed lady. ‘‘You Gan go at the gloves right away,” she added; then I shall want you to help me pack, for we are to leave on the first boat to-morrow morning. And,” she concluded, thus explaining to Mona her unusual irritability, “we’ve got to make the trip alone, after all, for my friend is worse this morning, and so the whole family have given it up.” “Tam sorry that you are to be disappointed, I should suppose you would wish to giye it up your- self.. [ am afraid you will not enjoy it at all,’ Mona replied, wondering why she did not at once return to New York instead of keeping on. “Of course I shali not enjoy it,’ snapped the wo- man, but bestowing a searching glance upon her companion, ‘and I would not go on, only Louis was to join us at New Orleans, and it is too late now to change his plans.” Mona’s face fell at this nnexpected and disagree- able intelligence. : ' The last thing she desired was Louis Hamblin’s companionship, and she would have been only too glad to return at once to New York. “Could you not telegraph t0-him ?”’ she suggested. ‘No; for L suppose he has already left new York,” Mrs. Montague curtly replied. Mona was quite unhappy over the prospect before her; then it suddenly oceurred to her that perhaps Deteetive Rider would need her as a witness, if he should arrest the Waltons, and in that case she would be compelled to return to New York. Still she felt very uncomfortable even with this hope to encourage her, and but for the discovery of that morning, she would have regretted having con- sented to accompany Mrs. Montague upon her trip. She sat down to mend the gloves, with what com- sure she could assume, although her nerves were navery unsettled state, for she was continually looking for a simmons from Mr, Rider. When they were finished she helped about the packing of Mrs. Montague’s wardrobe, and then re- aired to her chamber, to get her own in readiness to eave; but still no word came from the detective, and she thought it very strange. It might have been an hour after Mona’s return to the hotel, when that official sauntered into the oftice, where he picked up a paper aud looked it over fora few minutes. Then he went to the counter, pulled the register before him, and began to glance up and down its pages. : He finally found the names he was searching for, then turning to the clerk, he requested that a boy might take a note from him to Mrs. J. M. Walton’s room. Sen rs. Walton ?”’? repeated the clerk, with some sur- rise. “Yes; I have a little matter of business with her,” said Mr. Rider, who intended to make his arrest very quietly. “Tam sorry you did not come earlier, then,’ re- gretfully responded the clerk, ‘for Mrs. Walton and her son left the hotel about two hours ago.” The detective’s heart sank with a sudden shock, Gone! his birds flown when he had them so nearly captured! “Are you sure?” he sharply demanded, while in spite of his long and severe training, he turned very white, and his under lip twitched nervously. “Certainly, or I should not have so stated,” re- turned the clerk, with some dignity. ‘‘When young Mr. Walton settled his bill, he ordered a carriage to be in waiting at eleven o’clock, and both he and his mother left the house at that time. I regret your disappointment, sir, in missing them.” This was almost more than Mr. Rider could bear; but he could not doubt the man’s word, and he feared the thieves had escaped him again. They must have left while Mona was telling him her story at the de- tective headquarters. ‘ They had been very sharp. Finding themselves in a bad box, they had ty their movements with greatcunning. He believed that Mrs. Walton had deposited the amount required for bail in the bank, with the deliberate intention of forfeiting it, rather than have her accomplice brought to trial; douhtiess he was too useful to her to run any risk of his being found guilty, and imprisoned fora term of years, and thus put an end to their successful career. The detective berated himself soundly again for not objecting to the acceptance of bail at all, but it was too late now to remedy the matter. Regrets were useless, and he must bestir himself, strike a fresh trail, it possible, and hope for better results. He wondered why they had not skipped imme- diately after Jake Walton's release, but finally con- cluded that they had remained in the city for a day or two to disarm suspicion. “Where did they go?’ he inquired, as soon as he could command his voice to speak calmly. “To the Grand Union Station. I believe they were going North, for [heard the young man say some- thing about purchasing tickets, at reduced rates, for Chicago,” the clerk replied. one they baggage with them?’ Mr. Rider ques- tioned. “Yes, a_ trunk, and a gooa-sized grip,” said the man. The detective thought a moment. Then he called for, writing materials. hastily wrote a few lines, which he sealed, and directed to ‘‘Miss Richards.” “There is @ young lady by that name stopping here, I believe,’’ he remarked, as he laid the envelope before the clerk. “Yes; she is with a Mrs. Montague.” “That is the lady,’ said the detective. “Will you see that this letter is given into her own hands, and privately? tis a matter of importance.” “Yes, sir, I will myself attend to the matter,” re- sponded the obliging clerk. Mr. Rider deposited a piece of silver upon the en- velope, touched his hat, and walked briskly from the hotel. He jumped into'a carriage that was waiting before the door, “To the Grand Union Station,’ he ordered. ‘Be quick about it, and you shall have double fare.” The man was quick about it, but the train for Chi- cago had been gone some time. Mr. Rider had of course expected this, but he at once sought an interview with the ticket-agent, and made earnest inquiries regarding those who had pur- chased tickets for Chicago that morning; but he could learn of no persons answering to the descrip- tion of the miner and his supposed mother. If he could have obtained any intelligence regard- ing them, he had intended to telegraph ahead, and order their arrest when they should arrive at the end of their journey. But of course it would be of no use to put this plan into execution now, as he doubt- ed very much their having gone to Chicago at all. He was very much disheartened, and retraced his steps to his hotel, with a sickening sense of total defeat. : “Tom Rider,” he muttered, fiercely, as he packed his own grip to take the first train back to New York, “you might as well give up the business and take up some trade; you've been hoodwinked by these clever thieves often enough.” But there was avery dogged, resolute expression onhis plain face, nevertheless, a8 he turned it north- ward, which betrayed that he did not mean to give up his search quite yet. That afternoon when Mona went down to dirner, the clerk of the hotel waylaid her and quietly slipped an envelope into her hand. “Thank you,” she said, in alow tone, and hastily concealed it in her pocket. When she was aloné again she broke it open and read, with almost as much disappointment as the de- tective himself had experienced, when he found that his birds had flown, these words . “Gone! They gave us the slip about eleven cee: Save the scrap of cloth—it may be needed ater. : n “Oh. dear!” sighed Mona, regretfully; “‘and the Palmer robpery is still as much of a mystery as ever. ‘ CHAPTER XXXII. THE PLOT AGAINST MONA THICKENS. % The next morning Mrs. Montague and her young companion left the Southern Hotel and proceeded directly on board one of the palatial steamers which ply between St. Louis and New Orleans, Mrs. Montague secured one of the best state-rooms for their use, and immediately made herself com- fortable for the trip. The weather was very fine, the season advanced, for the follage was rapidly developing to perfection, and the sail down the broad and tortuous river was delightful. Mona enjoyed it, in spite of her dread of meeting Louis Hamblin at the endof it, and her anxiety to get back to New York and Ray. Mrs. Montague had entirely recovered her good nature; indeed, she had never been so kind and gracious toward her seamstress as during this por- tion of their trip. She appeared to exert herself to make her enjoy it—was mvure free and companion- able, and an observer would have regarded them as relatives and equals. Mrs. Montague made many acquaintances, as she always did everywhere, and entered most heartily into every plan for amusing and entertaining the party on board the steamer. The days were mostly spent in delightful inter- course and promenades on deck, where Mona was put forward and madeto join in the pleasures; while the evenings were devoted to tableaux, char- ades, music, and dancing, as the passengers desired. It seemed almost like a return to her old life before her uncle's death, and could she have obliterated all sadness and painful memories, Mona would have enjoyed it thoroughly. 5 They had barely touched the levee at New Orleans when they espied Louis Hamblin, dressed with great cane in the height of style, awaiting their ar- rival. Mrs. Montague signaled to him from the upper deck; and he, with an auswering wave of his hand, sprang aboard, and quickly made his way to her side. He greeted her with evident pleasure, remarking that it seemed an age since he had seen her, and then he turned tou Mona,’ with outstretched hand and smiling eyes. ‘How well you are looking, Miss Richards,” he re- marked,” your trip has done youagreat deal of good.” : Mona bowed, but without appearing to notice his extended hand, and then she turned away to gather their wraps ,and satchels, preparatory to going ashore. Mr. Hamblin frowned at her coldness, but a pecu- liar smile curved his lips as he whispered in Mrs. Montague’s ear: “We'll soon bring your proud beauty to better terms.” “Don’t be rash, Louis,” she returned; ‘‘we must be very wary if we would accomplish our purpose. You say you love the girl, and I have consented to let you have your way, but, since she is not in- clined to accept your advances, you will have to play your cards very shrewdly if you expect to win.” “Allright; I will be cireumspection personified, if you will only help me to make that girl ne wife,” the young man said, earnestly. ‘I do love her with all my heart; and, Aunt Margie, I’ll quit sowing wild oats, turn over a new leaf, and bea good man if I succeed in this.” Mrs. Montague regarded him somewhatskeptically, as he made this eager avowal; but it was almost im- mediately followed by a look of anxiety. wk aye you will—you certainly owe me that much after ali that I have done for you,’ she returned. “Mind you,” she added, ‘I never would have yielded this pointif I had not been driven to it.” “Driven toit! How?’ inquired her nephew, re- garding her searchingly. ‘‘Driven to it, beeause I have found out that she is Mona Montague, and I’m afraid that she has an eye to her father’s property. [believe she is very. keen—doubdtless she knows that she has a legal claim upon what he left, and means to assert it, or she never would have so cunningly wormed herself into my family. Of course it will be difficult for her. to prove her position, since I have that certificate of marriage; still she may have some other proof that I know nothing about, which she is secretly working. Of course I’d rather you would marry her,” Mrs. Montague gloomily observed, ‘‘and thus make our interests mutual, than run any risk of losing the whole of my money. Still, [did want you to marry Kitty McKenzie; I wanted you to fortify yourself with additional wealth.” “IT have suspected that the girl was Mona all along,’”’ Louis quietly remarked. “Oh, have you?’ sharply retorted his aunt, as she studied his face with suspicious eyes. ‘“‘Perhaps you have been plotting to marry her forthe sole pur- —_ of getting this fortune wholly under your con- trol.” ; “Pshaw! Aunt Margie, how foolish you are! Haven’t I always worked for your interests? More than that, haven’t you always assured me that the fortune would be mine eventually? Why, then, should I plot for it?’ the young man replied, in soothing tones, but coloring beneath her glance. “I tell you,” he went on, a note of passion in his voice, “T love the girl; I would even be willing to marry her without a dollar in prospect, and then go to work to support her. Now come, do not let us quar- rel over imaginary treubles, but unite our forces for our mutual benefit. It will be far safer for you if she becomes my wife, for then you will have nothing to fear, and I shall have won the desire of my heart.’ “Well, it will have to be, I suppose,” said Mrs. Montague, moodily. “I wonder how I was ever so deceived though, when she looks so like Mona For- ester. Ican understand now why Ray Palmer was so attentive to her at Hazeldean. Strange it never oecurred to me, when I saw him waiting upon her, that she was Mona Montague, and they must have had a quiet laugh by themselves over having so thoroughly hoodwinked us.” “They didn’t hoodwink me,” Mr. Hamblin affirmed, with a sly smile, “I knew all the time who she was.” “IT don’t see how you knew it,” Mrs. Montague re- torted, impatiently. “T will tell you; [ was in Macy’s one day when the girl ran across some acquaintances. She bowed and smiled to them, as I suppose she had always been in the habit of doing; but the petted darlings of le bon ton drew themselves up haughtily, stared rudely at her, and passed on, while the poor child flushed, then paled, and looked ready to drop. A mo- ment later, the two proud misses shot by me, one of them remarking, with curling lips and a toss of her head, ‘Do you suppose that Mona Montague expects that we are going to recognize her now?” “Why didn’t you tell me this before ?” Mrs. Monta- gue angrily demanded, “Because I knew that, if you suspected her iden- tity, you would turn her out of the house forthwith, and then I should have hard work getting into her good graces.” , “You are a sly one, Louis.” “One must look out for one’s own interests in some respects,” he coolly responded. *sDoes she kuow that you suspect her identity ?”’ “No, not yet; but I mean she soon shall.” “Ah!” said Mrs. Montague, with sudden thought, ‘maybe you can use this knowledge to aid your suit —only don’t let her know that I am in the secret un- til you are sure of her.”’ “That kas been my intention all along—for I have meant to marry her, by hook or crook,” and the young man smiled complacently. “Look out, Louis; don’t overreach yourself,” said his companion, bending forward, and looking warn- ingly into his face. “If you make an enewy of me, I warn you, it will be the worse for you.” “My dear aunt, [ have no intention of making an enemy of you—you and I have been chums too long for any ill-will to spring up between us now. But,” he concluded, looking about him, ‘‘we must not re- main here talking any longer, most of the passengers have already left the boat. I will go for a carriage and we will drive directly to the St. Charles where I have rooms engaged for you.” Mrs. Montague turned to call Mona, who was standing at some distance from them, watching the men unload the boat. “Come,” she said, ‘‘we must go ashore.”’ Mona followed her from the boat, and into the car- riage, utterly ignoring Louis Hamblin’s assistance as she entered. She shrank more and more from him, while a feeling of depression and foreboding, suddenly changed her from the bright, care-free girl. which she had seemed ever since leaving St, Louis, into a proud, reticent, and suspicious woman, Upon reaching the St. Charles Hotel, Mrs. Mon- tague informed Mona that dinner would be served shortly, and she would need to be expeditious in making her toilet. “T should te not to go to the dining-room,” Mona began, flushing. “But I wish you to, for we are going to drive after- ward to some of the points of interest in the city,” Mrs. Montague returned, “Tf you will excuse me—~” “Nonsense,” retorted her companion. again inter- rupting her; “don’t be a goose, Ruth! I want you ear and we will not discuss the point any fur- ther. Mona hesitated a moment, then turned away, but with an dignity which warned Mrs. Montague that it might not be well to enforce her commands too rig- orously, or she might rebel outright. Mona went down to the dining-room, but to her great relief received no disagreeable attentions from Mr. Hamblin, who sat on the right, while her seat was on the left of his aunt. He did not address her during the meal, except to ascertain if she was prop- erly waited upon by the servants. Afterward they went fora drive out on the sheil road, which proved to be really delightful, for the city was in its prime, while, rain having fallen early in the day, the streets were not in the least dusty. Mrs. Montague and Louis monopolized the conver- sation, thus leaving Mona free to look about ber. The only thing that occurred to annoy her was on their return to the hotel. Louis, in assisting her to alight, held her hand in a close, lingering clasp for a moment, and, looking admiringly into her eyes, re- marked, in a low tone: a hope you have enjoyed your drive, Miss—Rich- ards. What could he mean, Mona aske@ herself, by that fa eens samt before and that emphasis on her name She forcibly wrenched her hand from his, and deigning him no reply, walked with uplifted head into the hotel, and up to her own room. The next day she politely, but firmly, declined to go out driving. and remained by herself to write a long letter to Ray; thus she avoided the hated com- panionship of the man who became more and more odious to her. The third evening after their arrival Mrs. Mon- tague went to a concert with some people whose ac- quaintance she had made while on the steamer, and Mona congratulated herself that she could have a long quiet evening in which to read a book in which she had become deeply interested. She had not a thought of being interrupted, for she supposed that Louis had accompanied his aunt, and she was sitting contentedly by the table in Mrs. Mon- tague’s private parlor, when she heard the door be- hind her open and close. She looked up surprised, but the expression was uickly succeeded by one of dismay when she saw ouis Hamblin advancing toward her. She arose, regarding him with cold displeasure. He bowed politely as he remarked: “Do not rise. 1 simply came to get some letters that Aunt Margie wished me to mail for her.” Mona resumed her seat, greatly relieved at this as- surance, and went on with her reading, while the young man took up his aunt’s writing-pad, which lay upon the table, as 1f to search for the letters. He took out a couple and slipped them into his pocket; then selecting a pen, began himself to write. Mona felt very uncomfortable, sitting there alone with him, but she kept hoping that he would soon go out again, and so went on with her reading. Presently, however, he laid down his pen, and, glancing across the table at her, asked: “What book have you that is so interesting ?”