Audrey's Recompense.

Auckland Star, Volume XVII, Issue 43, 20 February 1886, Page 3

Audrey's Recompense.

BY MRS GEORGIE SHELDON,

Author ot " Brownie's Triumph" "The Forsaken llrido," " Stolla Robcvelt" "Tho Lily of Mor-

daunt," otc.

CHAPTER XXIV,

A PAINFUL linvKLATION,

Annie Noble was very happy in her new position, for the Campbollß woro oxcoedingly kind, and treated hor moro as a daughter and sister than a hireling. Rich was of courso a frequent visitor at tho Campbell)s although at first no one save Mrs Campbell suspected that Annio was the chief attraction thoro. Grace had fondly imagined during tho first two or throe calls that ho was merely resuming his old friendly relations with her and she had insisted upon having Annie go down to share tho visits with hor. But she soon began to notico how Rich's glance followed Annie's movements ; how his voico changed whon ho spoke to hor j how his face lightened and softened into tondorness whonovcr thoir eyes met. Sometimos, too, Annio was not present whon he came, and thon sho could not fail to sco how ho watched the door constantly, and if sho did not ehortly mako hor nppoaranco, he would inquire anxiously for her. "Sho is winning his heart," sho said to horsolf, whon, as thoy met ono ovoning, ehe noted tho lingoring clasp of his hand, nnd tho quick flush that sprang into Annio's chooks as she caught his fond look, and a sharp pang shot through hor. But thero was very littlo lovo-making carried on botweon tho lovora at Mrs Campbell's, for somo membor of tho family was always present j but as Annio was invariably claimod by Mies Waldemar for Sunday, tho oxchnngo of tondor eontiments waa reserved for thoso occasions. Graco always felt a sonso of loss and restlessnosa when Sunday camo, though sho told herself it waa becnuso sho missed her congenial companion ; but in hor heart sho knew it was bocaueo sho fearod that, littlo by litllo, Bho was losing hor hol_ upon Richmond Waldemar, nnd that thia fair young orphan was supplanting hor in his affections. Ono night, aftor Rich had gone, sho wound hor arm about Annie's sloudor waist, as thoy were going up stairs to their room. '■ Come in hore, and let us chat awhile," sho said, as they reached her door. "I am not sloopy yot, and you havo boon so willfully busy all day that I have eoen nothing of you " Annio assented, and they eat down upon a sofa together and gossiped of various matters, until all at once Graco askod, " Don't you think Mr Waldemar is looking ill, Annio?" " No. Do you ?" tho young girl said quickly, ond storting as if she had rocoived a sudden shock. " What makes you think so ?" she added anxiously. Tho look, tho tone, tho start, and loss of colour told their own story. Annio Noblo suroly loved Richmond Waldemar, whatevor his toolings toward her might be. "He looks thinner than ho did before wo wont away. I believe he is working too hard," Graco roturnod, still watching her friend narrowly.

"Thon I shall toll Miss Waldemar, and sho must find somo way to stop him. I do not know but he is looking pale," Annie said, in a voice of alarm. Grace Campbell felt the room grow suddenly dark. Could she bear to have all hor fond hopes daehed to tho oarth ? Could Bho boar the thought that any one should come between her nnd tho man whom sho knew, now, sho had grown to love with a first, strong, doop affection. But sho mado no sign of the struggle going on within her, and after a fow moments of silence sho continued :

" Toll mo about your first acquaintance with tho Waldemars, Annie. Mamma has already told me something, but I would like to hear it moro in detail."

" I met them one summer among the mountaina in Vermont," Annie innocently bogan, nevor suspecting how Grace was hanging upon her words. " Papa and I boarded at the samo houso with them, and we had such delightful times that I shall never forget them. Rich was always so kind to me, allowing mo to go with him almost everywhere, when most boys of his age would have scorned to have made a companion of a little giri. Ho seemed to me the nicest boy I had ever seen ; ho had such a manly quiet way with him, and he could make mo mind when no one else, save papa, seemed to have tho least control of mo." " How old wore you then ?" " I waS"ten, and Rich was fourteen " " You wore both very young then," Graco interrupted with a sharper pang, as she began to realise that the foundation of the affoction between these two might have been laid when they had boen together amone the green hills of Vermont. " Yes, but I bolievo that Rich acauired an influence ovor mo that changed my whole character," Annie grevoly returned. •' How was that ? Tell me about it." "I was a wild, unmanageable little thing doing nil sorts of unheard things—for a girl, I mean," Annio continued, her colour deepening over the recollection of somo of her pranks, and then she related what had ocourred tbat day when she had climbed the birch tree and had boen so effectually reproved by Rich, that she had never attempted such a thing again. "I never got ovor it," she said, in conclusion ; "afterward when I was tempted to do anything rude, his faco, so full of scorn, would rise up before mo, and I could almost hear him say again that what I had done' might be well enough in a great strong boy, but it was very rude in a little girl,' and besides, he called me ' hoidenish.' I went home and looked up the word in the dictionary, for I did not know the meaning of it, while I was too proud and hurt to ask him. I can almost feel the hot blood surging over mo now, as it did then, when 1 read Webster's definition ; it was a bitter lesson, but it was a very beneficial one. Then you know, I suppose, that he saved my life." "No," responded Grace, with a deeper sinking of her heart, which grew more and more hopeless, as Annie proceeded to relate how the accident had occurred, and how courageously Rich had rescued her.

"It is not to be wondered at that you have a deep regard for Mr Waldemar," said Grace, " and 1 suppose you were very glad , to havo the acquaintance renewed in New York," "Oh, yes," Annie answered, with hot cheeks and drooping lids. * ~°l '-V. .23 ' She could talk freely enough of her acquaintance and friendship with Rich, way back in those days among the mountains; but she was shy about speaking of the present; it was too recent and Bacred to her to bear much talking about, and she sat silent, leaning against her friend, while she absently twirled a pretty little diamond ring, which gleamed upon the forefinger of her loft hand —the seal of her pledge to Rich. He put it there one evening shortly after she had gone to sco Miss Waldemar. " That is a pretty little diamond," Grace observed, on tho evening of their conversation about Rich, and noting the act, "It was a gift, I suppose." " Yes," Annie answered, in a low tone. " A rocent one, I should say, for it looks quite knew," her friend continued, lifting tho small hand to examine it more closely, " Yes," in a lower tone than before. " Do you mind telling me who tho giver was, dear ? or h it a secret!" Miss Campbell's voico was notquite steady now, for hope was fast slipping away from hor. " No, it is no secret; Rich gavo it to me," but tho lovely girl blushed scarlet over tho confession. "Rich I—how long have you called him that?" Grace put the question abruptly, almost sharply, for tho pain at her heart was becoming intolerable. "I used to call him Rich that summer, and so-when I went to visit Miss Waldemar, it came quite natural to use the name again." " Annie, Rich is very dear to you, is he not ? I'm afraid lam prying into secrets, but I do want to know"—only Heaven and hor own soul knew how much was staked upon tbo knowing—" and we have grown to be so friendly that I begin to feol as if I am in a measure entitlod to your confidence." Annio buried her blushing face upon Miss Campbell's shoulder and whispered : _ "I wanted you to know it, but did not liko to speak of it first." "Then you lovo Richmond Waldemar—" Tho lips which framed those words seemed frozen, whilo the girl's face was colourless. "Yes." "And—this littlo ring has a peculiar significance, I suppose?" "Yes ; for moro than two months I have boen his promised wife." Grace Campbell's first Impulse was to caat tho lovely girl rudely from her and cry out that it should never be ; to chargo i her with being a usurper in occupying tho throne on which sho had aspired to reign, and pour out upon her a seething stream from the volcano that was raging within hor. But thoso soft, clinging arms which Annio had slipped around hor waist whon she had made that last confession; that golden head resting so trustfully upon her shoulder; thoso shy, drooping oyes and flushed cheeks, all appealed to her better nature after a moment, whilo not for tho world would she have had hor look up into her faco, whoro sho must read tho terrible secrot of hor unrequited love. She must have time to recover herself first; so sho held her there in silence for several minutes until she could force some of her natural colour back, and gather calmness to speak stoadily of this new revelation, which had dashed hor every hope to atoms and rendored hor future, as she believed, a desolate -asto, As she believed ! Ah, the great Creator sometimes sends the blight of early disappointment npon the hearts of his loveliest creatures, only to enrich their natures, and make them hotter fitted for the work that Ho has laid out for their iuture.

Tho force of tho storm was over at last, and sho schooled herself to say :

"Bichmond Waldomar is one of tho noblost mon in tho world, and Annio, dear, I know you will bo very happy with him to tako core of you always." Sho could nof say that sho congratult.ted hor upon hor gront now happiness, whon hor own hoart was almost breaking with its yearning aftor that vory joy. Yet sho would not havo marrod that joy by the lightest breath which could havo betrayed to her how much sho coveted it.

Thon Annie, tho ice broken, confided to hor how it had all como about; tolling of thoir firßt mooting upon the street; how ho had como to hor assistance and protected hor from tho insults and persecutions of tho rude enrponter, nnd finally unfolded to hor something of thoir future plans. Graco boro it aa long as sho could, but hoart nnd strength wero both failing hor, and r,t last sho said, with assumed lightness :

" You ought to bo tho happiest girl in Now York ; but, my doar, do you know howlate it is getting to bo ? lam going to send you directly to bed, or we shall have hollow eyos and palo cheeks to-morrow." Sho forced horsolf to kiss the swoot face, and thon, with gontly spoken "good-night," sent the unsuspicious girl away. But that night Grace Campboll fought a battle with horself which loft scars upon her soul for all timo. Tho struggle was so severe that tho noxt morning she was not able to leave hor bod, and indeed she was unable to leave hor room for a fortnight.

Mrs Campbell was alarmed, and sent for a physician, for it was unusual for hor daughter to bo ill. His verdict was that her system was sufforing from debility, and sho needed " toning up."

Grace smiled bitterly to herself. How little thoy renlisod tho truth, or suspected anything of tho firo which was Consuming hor hoart.

CHAPTER XXV.

" TRUST AND WAIT."

When Graco Campbell resumed hor placo in tho housohold and society again, sho eoomod changod to overy one.

It was a change, howover, which no one could analyse or oxplain—an indefinable something which one felt rather than saw, and which, if possible, enhanced instead of detracted from her lovelineaß.

Her own family attributed it to the state of her health, and, for a time, were somowhat anxious about her, dovising various experiments to arouse and amuse hor; whilo Annio was her devoted shadow, hovering about her continually, anticipating her wants, and Btriving in ovory way to coax back the old smiles to her lips and the former brightness to her eyes. Thero woro times when Grace felt as if she could not endure to have the young girl noar her; when tho sound of her voice caused her pain ; when the sight of her face seemed to mock hor with its delicate beauty, nnd the light of the great happiness shining from her eyes would almost mako hor cry out with agony. Yot in spite of all, she loved this beautiful girl-indeed, alio had como to regard her with the affection of a sieter, and sho would havo missed her sadly had anything occurred to separate them. Tho first timo she met Rich, aftor learning of his engagement to Annie, it Beeraed as if heart and strength would fail her, and If she could have dropped at his feet and out of existence at the samo time, sho felt that it would have been a blossed release.

"Why did 1 need to love him like this ? Why was I allowed to surrender the most sacrod feelings of my heart to him, only to have all my future blighted and destroyed ?" she cried out within hersolf, with an overwhelming sense of rebellion and wretchedness, as sho allowed him to take her hnnd in greotinc, whilo he looked sympathetically into hor face, expressing regret for her'recont illness, and a fear that Bho was not quite herself yet. "Quite herself!" She knew she would never be her bright, joyous Belt ogam ; the world would never betho same to her; everything was ohacged, darkened, eclipsed. But she tried to be brave, and mako as light as she could of her recent indisposition.

"I am well enough, only everybody seems determined to make a baby of me," she eaid, in reply to him, ond with a smile which, somehow, smote him with a feeling of uneasynoßS, wbilo tho haunted, almost agonised look in her dark eyes, which she could not wholly conceal, try aa she would, made him regard her closoly and wonder what had causod this Budden change in the hitherto gay girl. " I am afraid you havo not been willing that others should do all they mightfor you," Bich responded, kindly. What was there that any one could do for her poor, crushed heart ? was herinward cry, and which almost arose in wild rebellion to her lips; but she compelled herself to answer, smilingly : " Oh, you have no idea what a tyrant I am when lam ill. Indeed, I have kept Annie, dancing attendance upon my whims for tho last three weoks to such an extent that I have been expecting you would call me to account for tho loss of some of her roseß."

She said this with a meaning glance, for she wanted him to know that sho had die-

covered the relation that he bore toward Annio.

He gave hera quick, startled look. Something in her tone touched a sensitive chord in hiß nature and jarred upon it. "I do not believe that her roßee have suffered very muoh, and I am sure she has only been happy in being of service to you," he returned.

"She would be happy doing good anywhere," Grace said, heartily ; then, after an instant's pause: "Perhaps you may consider me a trifle premature, my friend, but I want to tell you that I have discovered her secret and yours. You have won a treasure, Mr Waldemar, and I know that the future must seem very bright to you. I only hope nothing may ever transpire to mar it."

She had done it! She had faced the whole bitter truth at last, believing, according to that homely old adage, that " if you grasp a nettle firmly it will not sting so sharply." She bad told herself tbat if ahe could only safely pass this first trying ordeal all would bo well, and she could more calmly face all that would follow.

But she had rather overestimated, her strength, for the lips which wished him so bright a future were colourless ; her tone, in spite of its forced heartiness, had a note of despair in it, and her eyes a look that made Rich shrink involuntarily, whilo a halfdefined suspicion of the troth forced itself upon him. But he thanked her, with more qf gravity and seriousness than he might have done, and Annio coming into the room at that moment, the conversation drifted to other and more general topics, while Grace closed that chamber of her heart as she believed for ever, locking within it tho secret of her hopeless love.

A few days later blio wont to see Miss Waldemar, instinctively feeling that she might derive comfort of some kind from the grand, beautiful woman. Audrey knew at once why she had come. She read in her eyes, in that grieved look about her mouth, that some heart-suffering, which so many years ago had left its impress upon her heart and face, and tbe sight of which in another even now probed the old wound afresh.

'• I bolievo this hot summer has token all the life out of rtfe. Miss Waldemar," Grace said, after greeting her, while she sank wearily into a chair, and untying the strings of her pretty hat oast it carelessly upon the floor. "I am tired all the time now, and so restless that it seems as if I must get out of sight and sound of oil familiar objects."

She sat rocking slowly back and forth for a few moments, looking about the charming room. "How cozy and lovely you always are here 1" she resumed at length. " How restful you yourself are, dear Miss Waldemar "—with an earnest, wistful look into Audrey's face, so beautiful in its calm repose—" But you have led rather a lenely life, too, haven't you ? What ia the socretof the quiet happiness and peace that I always find about you ?" Audrey's lips quivered slightly.

This beautiful girl was coming very near to her in her unconscious appeal for sympathy and comfort. Did somo mysterious influence reveal to her that she, too, had suffered as she was suffering now, and could thus mere effectually minister balm to her wounded spirit ? " Yes, dear, I have led a very lonely life —that is, compared with that of many others, and I have known a great deal of trial, and. pain, and sorrow," Audrey answered, feeling that perhaps a little of her own heart history might help the young girl to bear her trouble better. " You lost your parents when you were quite young, I believe. Did you ever lose any othor near friends?" Grace asked, with downcast face. " Yes ; I lost ono nearer and dearer than father or mother, sister or brother—that was my eoreat trial," Audrey said, sadly. ■ " Did—did he die ?'—ina low, constrained tone. "No." "Oh !" -with an indrawn breath that was almost a sob—" then how can you bo so at peace ? Does it not haunt and follow you day by day, and hour by hour ? Do you not have to fight tho mo,nory of it still inch hy inch ?" The strained, repressed tones of these oager questions told how keen her own anguish was. " No, dear; all that is passed," Miss Waldomar said, quietly/ though there was a time when I folt like that—when I fought battle after battle; when I was rebellious, angry, despairing ; when it seemed as if earth could hold no possible future good for me, and when I would have been glad to lay down all of life's burdens and lot my weary spirit go out into the great unknown." Oh ! how like it was to her own struggle. " But how did you conquer it all ?" " I did not conquer." Grace's tearless, burning eyes were raised in surprised inquiry to the fair calm face opposite hor. Miss Waldemar smiled sadly. "I see you think otherwise," ehe said, " but it is true, nevertheless. I never could , have conquered a trouble like mine. I was like ono battling in a hopeless cause. I was prostrated by a hundrod wounds, every one of thorn mortal, and yet I fought on until wearied out, despairing, I could fight no longer, then I laid down my arms. But lam talking enigmas, Let me begin at the beginning." Audrey thon and there related tho sad story of her life to the sorrowing, heartstrickon girl before her. But she was not half-through when Grace Btartled her by throwing herself upon her knees beside her, burying her face in her lap, sobbing and weeping, in tho utter j abandonment of grief. But Audrey talked on, laying all her heart open before her. Tears, she knew, would relieve the sufferer. "Ido not see how you have borne it," murmured a smothered voice from her lap, when Audrey had finished her sad story. " At first I bore it only because I could - not help it. If I had possessed the power, I would have made everything give way, that I might regain-my lost happiness." " But, dear Miss Waldemar, content and peace did come to you after a time ?" " Yob, dear, but it was only—as I said before—when I laid down my arms," Audrey answered, almost tearfully. "What do.you mean by that? Please toll me." • " I mean that all my wild grief, my angor, my rebellion and inward battling, were out weaponß turned against one who, for Borne wise purpose, hod mitt my great sorrow upon mo *, and when I had laid them all down and surrendered my will to His, tho hand that smote me began to heal me."

Grace Campbell's face became very thoughtful "I know it is natural to question the wißdom of such afflictions, and to rebel against fate," continued Audrey; "but there is a talisman against all such antagonism—it is only one little word of five letters. Trust ! It is very powerful, however, and, if rightly used, will conquer all ills. As I look back to tbat sad timo of which I havo told you I still feel keen pain, and I cannot see, even now, just why I need to have lost so much out of my life. But, dear, I have learned to trust the hand that wounded me, believing it will never lead wrong. Ido not know what thero may be before me, but be it pain or joy, weal or woe, 1 know that our kind Father above never makes a mistake, and that some time -• perhaps on the other aide 1 Bhall be ablo to trace out all the pattern of my life, whioh looks so mixed and strange here, and find that it will harmonise perfectly." Grace took tho hand that was Boftly caresßing hor cheek, and drew it almOßt reverently around to her lips, but stifling a sob by tho act. "What a lovely way of reaaoning, she said, in a tearful voice. "But did you nevor feel as if you would not submit—as if you would do something dreadful rather than bear it?" , , Audrey's face was very grave, and she bent a troubled look upon tho girl. "I am afraid 1 was vory rebellious at times—weakly so. But did it never occur to you that we might not be put hero merely for our own happiness—that thero ib something nobler and moro enduring to work for? I believe if I knew that there is something noblor and more enduring to work for? I believe if I knew that there waa Btill much moro of sorrow for me, I Bhould bo willing to go patiently on to the ond. But," Audrey continued after a pause, "I am afraid I have saddened you with my unhappy Btory, bo let mo give you a motto, which if trouble should ever come to you, may help you to bear it. " Yes, tell me—l should like to know it," Grace said, eagerly. Mies Waldemar bent down and looked full into the eye 3 raised so earnestly to hers, and her tone was tender and tremulous as she said: "Lay down your arms ; then trust and wait." She ki.Eod the, forehead of the beautiful girl as she spoke, and then began to talk of something elso. She knew well enough—as well as if Grace had told her-that her heart was al-

most breaking with the weight of a bitter disappointment. CHAPTER XXVI. AN UNEXPECTED MBETI.O. "Lay down your arms! Trust I wait I" It was a motto which, to Grace Campbell, seemed almost impossible to follow. To give up her will; to renounce all hopes for the future; to bury her mighty love deep within her own heart, and to take up the burden and duties of life cheerfully, believing that whatever was was best, seemed a task so great that it would bo impossible ever to accomplish it. " Lay down my arms—coase to struggle when my whole soul is aroused to battle ! Trust! when the way all about me is so dark that I cannot see a step before me. Wait! when waiting iB like the torture of the rack. lam afraid I can never do it; I am afraid I shall only struggle and beat against my sorrow, aa an imprisoned bird beats against the bars of its cage, until 1 fall exhausted and die."

So she reasoned and argued with herself day after day, going over the same ground, making the same pitiful plaint, and shrinking back appalled frem what was before her. Yet all the time something within her was reaching out after that calm, lovely midsummer of content to which Miss Waldesmar hod attained, and longing to realize that same beautiful faith and confidence which could say, "I know that our Father above never makes a mistake, and that, sometime, I shall be able to trace out tho pattern of my life and see how exactly it will harmonise." Some days she would seem to gain a little of self-control and peace; then again she would be plunged into doep gloom, almost despair, as she watched Annie's bright face grow brighter under the influence of her great happiness, and she would be tempted to regard her as her bitterest foe. Had sho not posseseed a sweet pure nature, a ready noble heart, she would have almost learned to hate Annie for dashing the cup of happiness from her when she believed it to be just at her lips. Many another woman would have employe! her every art to be revenged for the imagined wrong. But she loved the gentle girl, and she would not have marred her joy by so much as a breath which would lead her to suspect the truth. * On Saturday Rich planned a little excursiod out of town for Annie and Miss Waldemar. Grace was also included in the invitation, but " did not feel quite equal to the exertion," she said. They wero to go to a quiet seaside resort a few miles down the harbour, where they were to spend the Sabbath and return on Monday evening. The sail proved to be delightful, the salt air was pure and invigorating, and the happy trio felt as if they had left all cars behind them with the heat and dustfof the city. Upon reaching thoir destination, they found pleasant rooms in one of the hotels, where, after having exchanged travelling attire for dinner toilets, they descended to the broad verandah facing the sea, and gave themselves up to the charming prospect. Dinner was served with all the style and ceremony which characterise a fashionable hotel, and our friends were enjoying the excitement of being among and watching the gay company about them, when Audrey suddenly became conscious that a pair of keen grey eyes, at another table, were attentively regarding her. Their owner was an elderly gentleman of perhaps sixty-five years — a fine-looking, grey-haired man, who, judging from his face and the shape of his head, possessed great strength and decision of character. Audrey never once raised her eyes while at dinner without encountering his or being conscious that he was regarding her with a half-curious and admiring look. He appeared to be alone, for he conversed with no one during tho meal, and when dessert was served he arose and left the room. When Audrey and her companions again repaired to the verandah, this same gentleman was seated at tbe farther end, conversing with another, apparently about his own age. Rich gavo hia arm to Audrey and Annio, and thoy began to promenade back and forth. As thoy drew near tho spot where the two elderly gentlemen wore seated, tho one who had boen so observant of Miss Waldomar during dinner turned to his companion and said: " Who is that beautiful woman, I wonder?" The gentleman addressed looked up at the approaching trio, started, rose from his choir, and took a stop forward, as if about to address them. But they, not having observed the movement, turned and retraced thoir steps, and ho resumed his seat. " That is Miss Waldemar, a former client of mine—from New York," replied Mr Bosmer, Audrey's old lawyer-for it was he. Her companion started now, while his eyes were riveted upon that regal figure with a wistful, troubled look. "Waldemar ! What Waldemar? To what family does sho belong?" ho questioned, with repressed eagerness. "She is Miss Audrey Waldemar, only child of tho late Hon. Dudley Waldemar. Woro you acquainted with the family, Mr Halstead ?"

Yes, it was Mr Richard Halsteod, the father of Audrey's early lover, ond, for the first time in his life, he now gazed upon the woman whom his son had loved.

"No - not personally; I knew o/them," replied. '' Thoy are very wealthy, are they not?"

"They iocrc; but, unfortuflately, Mr Waldemar's investments proved to be unwioo, and Bince her father's death, Miss Waldemar has lost -almost everything. There is a possibility, however, that she may recover a portion of hor property, if stocks in certain Western railroads should como up by and by," explained Mr Hosmer. "TJ-m ! But she's a wonderfully beautiful woman," returned Mr Halstead, his eyes still following that graceful figure. " She has the loveliest faco I ever saw. It is no wonder that Art Ah I" suddenly coming to his senses, and realising that he was upon the point of betraying secrets -." but who is that fine-looking youngster with her?—and the little lady in blue, also ?" " The young man is an adopted son or nephew—a lad whom she found somewhere years ago, ond becoming interested in him, brought him up. He is provine to be a fine fellow, too—going to make one of the smartest architects in the country. Tho young lady I do not know; but judging from appearances, I should say it is someone in whom the young man is especially interested. It's rather an interesting trio -eh, Halstead?" "Yes, yes—very. But it is a little strange that such a magnificent woman as Miss Waldemar is has never married, isn't it ?" questioned Mr Halstead, with rather more of interest than was to be expected from an entire .stranger, Mr Hosmer thought. " Oh, there was an early attachment and disappointment, I believe. It seems to me I heard she was engaged at one time to a fine young man, and the match waa broken off by the interference, or obstinacy, or something of the kind, of his father. But she went abroad with her parents about that time, and I nover really knew the truth of it. They—Mr and Mrs Waldemar—both died abroad, and she was left alone in tbe world ; and they wero years after that during which she was very sad, scarcely going into company at all, and seeing no one except intimate acquaintonances. But Bince her protege has grown to manhood she has mingled more iv society." "You say you do not know where she found him?" Mr Halstead askod, turning bis glance for a moment upon Rich. "No. Sho was always very close on that subject, evon with me. I once aaked her who he was, and she answered with a charming smilo, but with a certain ' thus* far-and-no-farther' way which sho has — 'He is my adopted nephew, Mr Hosmer' — and so I never troubled her again on that point." i " This is a strange world after all, with its romances and secrets," remarked Mr Halstead, with a long-drawn sigh, while his face grew sad and thore.came a look of pain into his eyo. Rich and hia companions had turned again and were now coming towards them. Audrey was talking in an animated way, glancing first at Rich, then at Annie, and she certainly was a woman calculated to attract observation and admiration anywhere. {To be Continued.)