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e sense of having passed beyond them into regions un- “My dear,” said Miss Margetts, in the cab, which jolted nown to their philosophy, and from which she never very much, and now and then took away her breath, “I vall come back to the unbroken tranquillity of a girl's life. hope you are going with your mind in a better frame, and at on the third day the weight of her strange position disposed to pay attention to what your good mother says. reighed her down utterly. She watched the distribution She must know best. Try and remember this, whatever f the letters with eyes growing twice their natural size, bappens. You ought to say it to yourself all the way

down nd a pang indescribable at her heart. Did they mean to as a penance, ‘My mother knows best.' eave her alone then ? to take no further trouble about “But how can she know best what I am feeling ?” said er? to let her do as she liked, that melancholy privilege

Rose. “ It must be myself who must judge of that." which is prized only by those who do not possess it?. Had “ You may be sure she knows a great deal more, and has Edward forgotten her, though he had said so much two given more thought to it than you suppose," said the schoollays ago ? had her mother cast her off, despising her, as a mistress. “Dear child, make me happy by promising that cebel ? Even Mr. Incledon, was he going to let her be lost you will follow her advice.” to him without an effort ? Rose had fled hoping (she Rose made no promise, but her heart sank as she thus believed) for nothing so much as to lose herself and be set out upon her return journey. It was less terrible when heard of no more ; but oh ! the heaviness which drooped she found herself alone in the railway carriage, and yet it over her very soul when for three days she was let alone! was more terrible as she realized what desperation had Wonder, consternation, indignation, arose one after another driven her to. She was going back as she went away, with in her heart. They had all abandoned her. The lover no question decided, no resolution come to, with only new whom she loved, and the lover whom she did not love, complications to encounter, without the expedient of flight, alike. What was love then ? a mere fable, a thing which which could not be repeated. Ought she not to have been perished when the object of it was out of sight? When more patient, to have tried to put up with silence ? That she had time to think, indeed, she found this theory un- could not have lasted forever. But now she was going to tenable, for had not Edward been 'faithful to her at the

put herself back in the very heart of the danger, with no other end of the world ? and yet what did he mean now ? ground gained, but something lost. Well ! she said to her

On the third night Rose threw herself on her bed in self, at least it would be over. She would know the worst, despair, and sobbed till midnight. Then a mighty resolu- and there would be no further appeal against it. If happition arose in her mind. She would relieve herself of the

ness was over too, she would have nothing to do in all the burden. She would go to the fountain-head, to Mr. Incle- life before her - nothing to do but to mourn over the loss don himself, and lay the whole long tale before him. He of it, and teach herself to do without it ; and suspense was good, he was just, he had always been kind to her; she would be over. She got out of the carriage, pulling her would abide by what he said. If he insisted that she sbould veil over her face, and took an unfrequented path which marry him, she must do so; better that than to be thrown off led away across the fields to the road near Whitton, quite by everybody, to be left for days or perhaps for years alone out of reach of the Green and all its inhabitants. It was a in Vliss Margetts’. And if he were generous, and decided long walk, but the air and the movement did her good. otherwise! In that case neither Mrs. Damerel nor any one She went on swiftly and quietly, her whole mind bent upon else could have anything to say — she would put it into his the interview she was going to seek. All beyond was a hands.

blank to her. This one thing, evident and definite, seemed She had her hat on when she came down to breakfast to fix and to clear her dazzled eyesight. She met one or Dext morning, and her face, though pale, had a little reso- two acquaintances, but they did not recognize her through lation in it, better than the despondency of the first three her veis, though she saw them, and recollected them ever days. “I am going home,” she said, as the school-mistress after, as having had something to do with that climax and looked at her, surprised.

agony of her youth; and thus Rose reached Whitton, with - It is the very best thing you can do, my dear,” said its soft, abundant summer woods, and, her heart beating Miss Margetts, giving her a more cordial kiss than usual. louder and louder, hastened her steps as she drew near her ** I did not like to advise it ; but it is the very best thing destination, almost running across the park to Mr. Incleyou can do."

don's door. Rose took her breakfast meekly, not so much comforted as Miss Margetts had intended by this approval. Somebow she felt as if it must be against her own interest since Miss Margetts approved of it, and she was in twenty minds then not to go. When the letters came in she said to her

HIS TWO WIVES. self that there could be none for her, and went and stood at the window, turning her back that she might not see; and it was while she was standing thus, pretending to gaze out

THE SHADOW OF DEATH, AND THE upon the high wall covered with ivy, that, in the usual contradiction of human affairs, Edward Wodehouse's impassioned letter was put into her hands. There she read

how

The capital city of the nation to-day is a paradise be too had made up his mind not to bear it longer ; how he was going to her mother to have an explanation with her.

for children. If you doubt it, just visit Washington on Should she wait for the result of this explanation, or should

“ The Children's Day ;” when with banners, emblems, she carry out her own determination and go ?

garlands, and ribbons flying, they march through the Come, Rose, I will see you safely to the station : there parked streets on a resplendent May morning. No is a cab at the door,” said Miss Margetts.

city in the land can show fairer, fresher, happier chilRose turned round, ber eyes dewy and moist with those tears of love and consolation which refresh and do not

dren, or more of them. I doubt if any other city can

show so many thousands who are at once healthy and she might ask leave to stay; but the cab was waiting, and glad in an untrammelled, unartificial childhood. was ready, and her own hat on and intention

The cause for this may be found in the fact that the declared ; "she was ashamed to turn back when she had children of the capital have broader streets, freer and

so far. She said good-by accordingly to the elder fresher air, live more in it, and closer to the life-giving sister

, and meekly followed Miss Anne into the cab. Had earth, than the children of any other American city. I been worth while winding

herself up to the resolution of This was not true once of the children brought to it fight for so little? Was her first experiment of resistance strangers ; who were born in higher latitudes, and who really over, and the rebel going home, with arms grounded and banners trailing? It was ignominious beyond all expression - but what was she to do?

1 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by H. O. Hourg

Tox & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

(To be continued.)

BY MARY CLEMMER AMES.

CHAPTER XX.

SHADOW OF LIFE.

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were never ingrafted into and nourished in its homes. Now for the first time availing herself of it, she left How many children, used from birth to airy nurseries the carriage, and with a child on either side of ber sat and grassy yards at home, have been brought hither down on a low seat beneath a tree that tempered the into over-crowded boarding houses and contaminated sunshine which fell upon their faces, and ran in light air, to die. Many a mother remembers Washington and shadow through the rippling grass. To her right

, only as “the place where Marion died ;” the spot just the other side of the mansion, towered an applewhich, “ had I never seen it, Arthur would have been tree that in its reputed century of life had dared to alive to-day.” It is no easy matter for the transien grow to the height and proportions of an oak. Beyond resident, in his cramped quarters, by his table of ill- it the dome of the government observatory on Brad. assorted and villainously cooked food, to obey hygienic dock's Hill, where the young surveyor Washington law, and once it was impossible.

dreamed his first dream of the future city, swelled It was May now. The city was all abloom. All into the blue air. Before her, past the grassy border starkness of hue, all crudeness of outline were lost, of the garden, spread the Potomac pranked with white hidden out of sight in a, wilderness of rippling green sails. A lovers' walk, shaded by murmuring pines, ery, swaying about the house-tops and weaving above ran through the grove, down to a mimic lake, and there the streets umbrageous arcades of leafy bloom. May in mid-water ended on a tiny island filled with shadowy is the “month of roses” here; the whole city was a trees and restful seats. Beyond the garden, on her garden of roses, clustering about the walls, peering left, spread the capital city, and holding tutelary guard through the fences, starting up by the wayside, every- above it was its Capitol. where pouring out from their hearts the most celestial Just beside her rose the white walls and sharp roof fragrance.

of the Burns' cottage, embedded in lilacs and will • Mamma, take us to Van Ness garden, do!”

roses, while before her eight Kentucky coffee trees “ Yes, my darling, you

shall

go,” said Agnes, looking towered high aloft, casting the shadows from their with sad eyes upon the face of her boy. “ You and clustering crowns of more than a hundred years upon Vida shall go. A sweet lady who lives there says I the cottage so fraught with the memories of buried genmay gather all the roses for you that I want.”

erations, upon the white walls of the mansion rich in Little Cyril was ailing. He was languid, restless, recollections of the illustrious dead of a later past; while chilly and feverish by turns, yet with an ever-yearning through their palm-like leaves the quivering sunshine cry io be “out, out." The ladies all said it was “mala- transfigured cottage and hall, and rested with hallowing ria.” If you have the toothache, or a fit of indigestion radiance upon the faces of the mother and lier children, from a lump of sour and stony bread, or any ache or sitting on the old seat beneath the trees. ailment under the sun in Washington, you are told that “ I'm goin' away,” said little Cyril. His eyes seemed it is malaria. It is the very healthiest city in the to follow a white sail-boat floating down the river. land, as its sick and death rates show. Where in “ Where?” said his mother. “ Do you want to sail its broad, airy, and sunny spaces malaria hides, no to Alexandria ? If you do, mamma will take you and mortal can tell; nevertheless every outrage of the laws Vida." of health and of life is denied or ignored under the cry “I want to doe on a boat, I do," said Vida. of malaria.

“I don't,” said little Cyril ; “I want to go home. “ Your little boy is suffering from malaria. Give Mamma, will you take me?" him two grains of quinine twice every day till he shows The soft, searching mother eyes scanned the face of no symptoms of the chills," said a native doctor called the boy, and as they did so the mother-heart leaped in, who gave a superficial glance at the child, which in with a throe half of pain, half of premonition. no wise satisfied his mother. She had larger faith in “ Hore ! darling, do you want to go home? Papa fresh air and sunshine than in the doctor's prescription, cannot go. Would you want to go with mamma and it was the day after he gave it that she went alone alone ?." with her children to the Van Ness grounds.

Yes, with mamma alone, and Vida. My papa

don't As they passed the lodge and entered the historic want to go home.” garden, they found its high brick wall mantled with

“ Your papa can't go home, not now ; he can't till ivy and honeysuckle. Aged fruit-trees - apple, pear, Congress adjourns — and this is the long Congress, peach, apricot, nectarine, and fig trees - clung to the Cyril.” old walls and lifted their crowns of tender fruitage “ How long, mamma ?” into the late May sunshine. The gigantic trees - the “Oh, till July ; as long as that, Cyril. If mamma maple, yew, walnut, and holly - wove a roof of soft- brings you down every day to this beautiful garden, est shade over the warm turf below. Within its barri- and takes you to sail on the river, wouldn't you cades of ancient box, the white stuccoed walls of the wait for papa ? Van Ness mansion rose from out of beds and solid “ No. My papa don't want to go home. banks of budding and blooming roses. From the low go, mamma." windows of the eastern drawing-room spread out broad Can

you tell mamma why you want to go home, parterres of roses of every known variety, — the red, darling ? ' red rose with its spicy heart, the aromatic tea-rose, the “ I'm so tired here,” lifting his hand to his head; virgin blush rose, the vestal white rose, the royal moss “ I'm so tired. I'm tired all the time now. Maybe I

Orange-trees from the conservatory were flush- I wouldn't be, at home.”
ing in the open sunshine of the lawn. Honeysuckle “ Home! You shall go home, my darling boy, and
in great masses of bloom hung from the balustrades of mamma will

go
with
you,

if".
the southern portico, pervading the air with sweetness “ If she has not gone,” her heart said, though her

lips did not finish the sentence. Little Vida slipped The freedom of the garden had been given to Agnes from her seat on to the green turf, filling her little by the refined and gentle inmates of the mansion. | hands with the violets which purpled all the

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HIS TWO WIVES.

197 he boy leaned his head upon his mother, and she drew “ Very well; then go and get another, — or half a .im closer to her side, as she sat gazing through the dozen others, if necessary,” said Circe, as she took up haded vistas of foliage out into the sunshine over- her book with perfect unconcern. Rowing the blue atmosphere and the green earth. Her At that moment Cyril King was walking along the eyes seemed to rest upon the river, to follow the white avenue toward Willard's. He had left the House a' sails idly drifting seaward ; yet it was not them that least an hour before its adjournment, something that she saw, or any outward objects.

did very often now, - how often, he himself did not She saw the face of Circe Sutherland, and she was know. In truth, at the present time, of no subject chiding her heart for halting a single moment between whatever was he so ignorant as of the real state, menthe fear of that face and her duty to her child. Yet tally, morally, and emotionally, of Cyril King. A how much she feared that face, perhaps she did not man no more than a bird can analyze the spell which know till this moment. “To leave him here without a enthralls him, when all his faculties are held in suspensafeguard, without his wife, without his children, with sion by some overpowering exterior charm. A man that face meeting him at every turn — can I?” she superlatively strong in moral force can shake off the asked. “Why did she not go as she promised ? Why charm, make himself free, define and condemn it ; but does she stay to thrill him with that voice, to haunt never while under its immediate influence. him as I know she does ? to torture me? It is too

But Cyril King was not morally strong. The only much to bear. The world is full of prey that she torpid force within him was his conscience. Had it might lawfully make hers; why does she pursue the been keen and quick like his imagination, he would not one idol that is mine? I cannot, I cannot bear it.” have been the Cyril King whom we know. As a man

This last question had become the one absorbing thinketh, so is he. Social freedom was the favorite idea of her mind, the central question of her being theme of the Affinity Club. Social liberty in its bearThrough it she agonized with destiny. Before it she ing upon the liberty of the individual was the only sosbrank terrified and baffled at the shut door of the

cial problem which had interested Cyril in the slightfuture.

est, the only one which had entered into his thoughts, She left the garden early, before a mist of miasma which had received the verdict of his approbation, and wuld rise from the marshes below the river, to pene- which already was beginning to bear fruit in his contrate the bland brightness of the air. She was thank- duct. The fatal fallacy in all self-assumed “reforms” ful for the moment that even in solicitude for her child is that they strike at the roots of social order and pershe could forget herself. Vida brought back a basket- sonal peace, in the name of the greater good. The man ful of violets as her trophies. Little Cyril had seen a rushing on to consummate his own selfishness, the squirrel and two rabbits, which were sources of deep woman drifting out, with no anchor to hold by, into joy; but when the delight of telling about them and the sea of limitless desire, if given to a false philosophy, their houses was over, he sank again into the feverish declare themselves to be “right” as well as “ free.” restlessness and fitful slumbers of an ailing child. Vida, Cyril King had come to the conclusion that Agnes with shouts of glee, and a knot of violets in her night- was at once unreasonable and unsatisfying. She was gown, went off to bed with her Aunt Linda, while his wife, the mother of his children, — two facts he had Agnes sat down by the couch of her boy, his little hot decided never to forget, but to pay such dole on them hand in hers, waiting his father's return, to consult with as he saw fit. Outside of his relation to her, he ashim on little Cyril's proposition of "going home.” sumed that it was not only his privilege but his right

When Circe Sutherland promised Agnes King to go to take what he wanted and what he could get,“ proaway from the capital she intended to keep her word. vided,” quiescent conscience added,

you give all to TL 43 But even in the good impulse warmed into life by Ag. Agnes that you would if you had naught else.”

" How Des' pain and sorrow, she made a proviso for the reluc- can I give her what she does not call out, which, theretance to go, which even then she was sure that she fore, by no spiritual law can belong to her, but which would feel after: “ Not to-day or to-morrow, but soon, does belong to another, because she spontaneously inI will go," she had said. It was March then. It was

he would say, if inert conscience ever She was going to-morrow. “Surely roused itself to ask a troublesome question. Imaginathat is soon,” she said to herself, as she sat with an tion, electric and luminous; desire, deep and strong,

open novel of Balzac's in her hand, while her maid, together stifled this feeble conscience so that it but sel1 kneeling before piles of costumes, of boxes, baskets, dom made a sign.

dressing-cases, jewel-caskets, toys, and trinkets innu- Cyril said truly to Agnes, years before, at Tarnstone, merable, was solving the often-recurring problem of that it was the fruits forbidden that he wanted. For how they were all to be dovetailed into the back-break- him possession left too little space for imagination, deing trunks yawning to receive them.

sire, hope, to hold revel together in his strong but unDo be careful, Cecile ; that was only given me governed nature. Thus, however coveted before, the Festerday,” Circe exclaimed as the maid rather impa- thing possessed lost all exciting charm to him, because tiently dropped a delicately-carved alabaster jewel-box it was his. It was the thing that was not his, and that into the satin-lined case ihat was to protecť it ; both he could only obtain by difficulty, or not at all, that he

wanted. It would have been Tophet enough for either – that's what worries me,” to have been shut up for a life-time with the other, but “No matter how much room there is in as there was not in their minds the slightest probability the trunks when we come, there is never enough in of this, there was nothing at present which Cyril King them when we go away to hold all the new things

. and Circe Sutherland so much longed for as eacá I can't make room for 'em all, without packin' so close other's society. they'll break,” she said, with a tone and look of despair, Willard's was the daily evening meeting-ground of

known to its parlors. The lobby congregated in its of

66

spires it?"

only May bow.

the gift of Cyril King.

"Yes, I know it's new said Cecile.

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fices, and statesmen, arm in arm, in its halls paced up want no husband, no judge, no master ; not I! I and down, discussing measures momentous to the na- want the man: his thought, his admiration, his homage.

Thus nothing could be more natural then that Could I have these and be his wife? Not long. She a new man ” and “

wide-awake man,” like Cyril has lost them if she ever had them, because she is his King, should be a regular evening visitor.

wife. She killed them with her truth-telling. No To Agnes' “Shall you be gone long, dear?” noth- glamour, no poetry, no passion, could live a minute in ing could be readier or easier than the answer, “ Well, such an atmosphere. I would not rob her. I want yes, I may, I'm going to Willard's to meet a man. No what she cannot have, and I will have it, but I'm 37 telling when I shall find him, or how long he will keep keep beyond the sound of that voice and the look in me when I do. Don't sit up for me.”

those eyes; they move me against myself. Why did I He not only “ met a man,” but many men, in that allow Aunt Jessie to over-persuade me to call on her crowded caravansary; but considering the tenacious Before I saw her, I took pleasure in the thought of him habits of politicians, it was surprising how soon he shook alone. Now, the expression of her eyes, and the tones them off, and rid himself of them, and found his way of her voice, and the words she said, mix with memointo the private suite of parlors leading from the public ries of him. A drawback — yes, in spite of myself

, a ones, in which, with her Aunt Jessie, Circe Sutherland drawback; for though I know that she is over-exacting held her evening court. It was more than the Affinity and mistaken, I'm sorry for her. That is no reason Club that met here. All “ society came to these why I should not take my own — what she could popular and resplendent parlors. Why should they not have if I were not in the world. But there is ac not? The dazzling woman, the polished and versatile force in her of some sort, else she could never have conversation, the alluring music, the enchanting voice, made me promise to go. What made me promise? I'm would have filled these parlors with the most attractive sorry I did – but because I did I must keep my word." of men and women in any capital on earth. Through She was thinking of him now. He filled all the all the gray Lenten season there had been no centre of undercurrents of her thought, even while her eyes liste light to compare with these informal “evenings ” of lessly ran over the pages of Balzac.“ Who, in looking Mrs. Sutherland. What wonder that she had not kept back over the happiest portion of his life, can single from her promise to Agnes, and gone sooner. Was it Agnes' | it all one perfectly happy day?” she read. Surely husband only who felt the force of this maguet? Was not J," she mused. Something I've missed, or itselt not all the gay world at her feet ? Cyril King, drop- missed me! Of all that I call mine, what makes me ping in quietly and as a matter of course from the so happy as the glance of his eyes, the thrilling tone outer saloons, met her as hundreds met her, and shared in his voice, the touch of his hand ? And I am going her society on common ground with the rest of the to-morrow, just to keep my word. I need not have world.

gone. I will come back; or he shall come to me. Ah, How was it, then, that when the business of the I shall know by his look, when I tell him that I am House would allow it, he now slipped out before ad- going, how much he loves me.”

1 journment, and that the hour before dinner was so A servant brought in a card, and with the book still often spent in that inner parlor with only one, and that in her hand, and tears in her eyes, Circe went into the one Circe Sutherland ? He himself did not know how adjoining parlor to meet her expected visitor. it had come to pass. He had not even paused to think “Tears!” exclaimed Cyril, as advancing to take her that that hour had come to be to him the hour for hand he saw two gleaming drops quivering on the long, which all other hours were made. He did not realize dark eyelashes. "Tears! What dares to make you how the desire within him had been buoyed up and shed one tear?” and he led her to a sofa. borne on by a desire more potent beyond himself. “ A trifle, something that makes many people glad.

“Never a moment for our old talks,” said Circe I shall leave Washington in the morning." Sutherland. “ Crowds, crowds forever in Washington. “Leave Washington ! No. You must not." The It's Emerson, isn't it, who says, “Two only can con- deep pallor that overspread his face betrayed more verse ; a third person is an impertinence'? That's the than his words. idea. I never quote verbatim. Does that tedious “ But I must.” House never adjourn before five o'clock ? If it does, “Must? Your must I thought was what you willed." do drop in some day. From four to five is my hour, “ What can you say when I tell you that I willed to these Lenten days, — my very own.

I will have it for go — that I willed sufficiently to promise to go? I my books, my music, my pet friends. I've asked no

must keep my word.” body yet but you.

Promise! Who could move you to such a promise? “I feel your kindness,” said Cyril, with more than Who dared to claim ” — and a pang of jealousy shot a flush of pleasure.

through his heart. “ It's no kindness. I want you to come.

6 Your wife.” I'll play for you your music.”

“My wife!” With what delicious thrill the honeyed poison of

Your wife.” these words ran through his veins, from heart to brain, “You acquainted with my wife! I never dreamed from brain to heart. Did she measure the fatal influ- of it.” ence of the flattery that she distilled ? Surely not. “I met her once.

It was not a pleasant interview. Her only thought was that it must influence to bring I am not surprised that she did not mention it. ! him nearer to herself. Once out of Agnes' presence,

called on her one day, the day after the ambassadors

' beyond the gaze of those appealing eyes, beyond the ball. She is a very truthful person. She left me in moving tones of that pleading voice, Circe was herself no doubt as to what she thinks of me - and of my again, applying with relentless logic the conclusions of influence upon you.

It seemed never to have entered her own chosen philosophy:

her mind that your influence over me might be far the “ • Her husband !' I want nobody's husband. I more powerful. The sum of my offending was in in

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fluencing you, in taking you, she called it, away from “I cannot; I promisecked, and waited wit} her. You know that I do not believe that one can be At this moment Aunt ;

to the room taken from another; that what we lose, we lose through from her afternoon drive, and side bine of those swift some lack in ourselves, or through some excrescence transitions of which mortals are capable, Circe and of our natures which repels and drives from us that Cyril fell at once into commonplaces on the weather which we would bind forever to us. But I cannot, and current events, as if they had not for an instant however unwittingly, be the cause of pain to any one," pursued anything else. Cyril refused an invitation to - in the gentlest voice. “So I promised Mrs. King dine, and accepted another to “ drop in again during I would go away soon. I intended that it should have the evening." “ Come rather late,” said Aunt Jessie, been sooner, but found myself so involved in preën- " then perhaps you can afford to take an hour after gagements I could not go. I thought I would not mar callers have gone, for a game of whist.” for myself the few pleasant hours left, by telling you. Another moment and Cyril stood in the public office, Are you sorry a little that I am going?”

discussing the merits of a financial“ bill ” pending Cyril was silent. This sudden blow had struck far before the House, with an earnestness that might indibelow the sources of his surface fluency. Circe Suth- cate that he had thought of nothing else for the past erland was not disappointed. Her words, the knowl- twenty-four hours. Under all this matter-of-course edge of her departure, affected him as deeply as she surface ran unceasingly the undercurrent of one thought desired, more deeply than she had dared to dream that and emotion. they would.

He was on the street presently, wending his way Chagrin mingled with his regret and pain. She was toward his lodging-house — and reality. He came in going, not only, but going because Agnes wished it and sight of it. He saw, mentally, Linda and Agnes and asked it. Even now he did not forget all that was due his children. He saw the boarding-house table, the to her as his wife; he would not speak to her dispar- uncoalescing assembly round it; smelled its conglomeragement, neither would he attempt to hide the pain he ate smells, so offensive to his fastidious sense, set all felt at the sudden going of the absorbing creature by against what he had left: and with one of those sudden bis side.

revulsions of feeling and act characteristic of him, he He turned to speak some word of regret; it was turned about when within a rod of the door, and walked arrested midway between mind and heart, unuttered. away far faster than he had approached the house. Surely the grief expressed in the bowed head, the He took a solitary meal at Goutier's, spent an hour half-veiled eyes, the quivering tears, the trembling talking politics with the crowd at the National, a little mouth, so tender and infantile, was not feigned. For after nine sauntered along the avenue toward Willard's, him! all for him! this wondrous loveliness of sorrow. and at last with bated breath entered its inner parlors. He had turned to give but the faintest utterance to his They were still thronged with guests, and Circe was own, forgetting himself in the thought of losing her, - playing - playing ostensibly for the company, yet playnot in one pulsation asking that she should sigh for the ing his favorite music. He felt she meant that he coming loss of his presence,

and her look, her whole should feel, that with the parlor full of brilliant and attitude, made his heart stand still with a sudden joy. attractive guests, her music, her thoughts, her heart, She, the world's queen in his eyes, was filled with grief were all with him. It was the utmost measure of flatat the thought of going from bim !

tery and of temptation — brimmed, overflowing. PubThe impulse rushed through him to snatch her to his lic success he had believed to be in store for him; social heart, to tell her that the world and its kingdoms of recognition also, in a general way. But amid the famriches and glory were nothing, nothing to their love. ily cares, and settled, married, finished feeling of his For she loved him. He knew it, he felt it now.

later years, it had never crossed even his imagination the knowledge of it that seemed to take his breath that there waited for him still the idolatry of another away. Triumph ? Life had never given him a triumph woman, and of such a woman! Who else was so favored till this moment.

It was stamped on the face of this among men ? And now with the first taste of the too woman in the love it bore for him.

potent sweetness of this cup, just as he had come to Did he forget? No, not even then. Memory laid know all that it was to him in this unguarded present,an icy hand upon the rein of passion. Could he have to drink it, to cling to it in defiance of fate and of the forgotten, as many a man has forgotten, in one over- future, it was to be taken from him. She was going. mastering moment, all, all but what the moment held All this and how much more! rushed through the of love for him before his eyes — could he have forgot- brain of Cyril King, standing there in utter placidity, ten, with what ecstasy of confession would each have apparently, near the piano, turning from the player crowned the other.

occasionally to exchange a look or word of approbation Circe,” he said, and grew paler with the conscious- with Aunt Jessie. ness that he had called her by her name for the first No one else was asked to remain for the game of time, “ Circe, it was not strange that Mrs. King wished whist. It was Aunt Jessie's game, and she delighted you to go. You, I see, do not blame her; you who to have it chiefly her own way by playing into the know better than she can what cause she has to wish hands of “ dummie.” Cyril cared nothing for the play, you to go. But it can do her no good. Stay!” but everything for having Circe for his partner. Both "No, I promised."

played indifferently; Aunt Jessie indefatigably and "It will do her no good. It has done her harm triumphantly. She had scarcely thought of a final already. Had she not pressed it, I might have learned rubber, when Cyril, looking at his watch, exlater, at least, that life -- my life — is nothing without claimed, you. It is your going that reveals it; your going that “ One o'clock! and you to go in the morning! Forwill make it harder to bear for her not less than give my thoughtlessness in staying.” for me. 1-I could not bear the sight of her, of any- “ It is mine if anybody's,” said Aunt Jessie. body, who had banished you from my eyes. Stay !” really, it's no matter. Circe will have as much sleep

It was

“ But

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