LOST-A PEARLE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVIII, Issue 6213, 15 October 1881, Page 2

LOST-A PEARLE.

BY MBS. «EOROESHELT)nv Author of "Sibyl-, Influence" .rj? s, - Bride," "Browni,-,, Triumpy^,, CHAPTER XXII. } the PierpßK. iVuAT she feared and dreaded cam For several days after her discovered 1 lajl Harold was entertaining feeling th only bring unhappiness to both*" of tt ° 4 confined herself exclusively to (',- tt The child did not seem to recoverf f/ - cold, and was troubled with a hack 't that made her exceedingly anxious c r l of itself was excuse enough for herav?", < of the baronet. ar ° But one evening as she was passing ti tlie lower hall on some tritlinn J? a Grace, she met Sir Harold commr: r dining-room. His face lighted witii a luminous smile as he saw htr. and I directly in her path, he Sil ij <■ ,fp, Melfert, I am glad to find yoiu'iisenz 1 '- 1 a moment. I received a new pi o t f t<u or two since, and have been wish j UL , t 0 * "■' to you, and to ask you to pass jud J m , it. Will you come and look at itW Pearle flushed slightly, but »li e k could offer no reasonable excuse to "- simple a request, and she assented ° lowed him to the library with a heart, fearing that the interview woull^' her to become a homeless, louek w once more. "° Sir Harold led her to au elegants easel, upon which there rested°a F '°" graving, in which there was emW beautiful and thiilliug romance. ' It represented a luxurious room ancient castle iu which there were hi" - J sons. The sun streamed through the' E diamond-paued, ivy-mantled window r v rich shadows upon the tessellated r floor, lighting up the antique furmt tt ~ pictures, and works of art which adirc richly furnished apartment, am! c.x tip , "-~" of halo around the striking tableau n Kear the window, and just wher t e ~" shed its softest radiance, sat an eklerl c of perhaps sixty years, a delicate 11 "", woman, with the mark of tin. ar" stamped upon every finely-chiseled fe Her bearing was proud, though 1 r betrayed a little of anxiety, asslu.! i ward a triHe, an intent expression ur handsome face, and her attire, from tU her costly, spotless cap, to tin- toe oi h ( high-heeled, satin slipper, witli it (~, k silver and pearls, plainly indicated tLa richest treasures of this mundane pie *""" uoue too good for her ladyship u t pleasure. Standing a trillir'asi.l anl*~ ing upon the back of her liixuriou c _ r *" eyes tixed with intense interest upon re *< ot the aged dame, was a be.uititul i t girl, who closely resembled hei u t form and feature, and who was, about twenty years of aye. I cluna ' two, and a little in the Uckj. stood the butler, who, with hi po l~ wig, volumiiiously-iulHed shiitfroii dgiuified bearing and the coi.sq ent i ~ upon his grave lace seemed topainke' of the pride whieli gleamed so mini in the eye of his mistress. -Approi hi. the opposite side of the room, an e\prc_ mingled anxiety and respect m>oll each was a young couple, upon whom theiuteit the others just described seemed eoueen One was evidently the son and heir proud old house, and a noble-looki withal. The other, a fair girl of such site loveliness and grace, that I'tirle n tarily caught her breath with delight looked upon her. Of medium heigh slender, willowy form, with larg expr eyes, soft waving hair lying above a symmetrical brow, with delicate n( which almost seemed to expanl \i quick pulsations of her flutteiiiiL li 11 sweet aud tremulous, that wire j i 1 enough to sliow the pearly tirtli w t 111 slender neck arched, and head inclined a strange mixture of pride and In m seemed a creature too fair, tou k belong to earth. Her lover's n't clasped her slender waist, his kit 'n that one of hers upon which t,k ir 1 __ betliothal ring as he led her toward \ judging from the expression in hcrlu —evidently seemed to her like i j ' seat, where she was to receive the i t pi ' or disapproval, as the case be _ autocrat of the house, as to her to be received within its sacred pn l the wife of the high-born son. " What a lovely picture '. and win 1 there is in it!" Pearle exclaimel v.l eye had roved from face to face, aud she to comprehend it, while she forgot for _ moment everything but the delight she c ! rienced at beholding anything so beaut "Who is the artist?" she askeJ i moment. "The name is not given, I believe, Harold replied as he watched hei inia face, aud thought that the engra in o wi— the loveliest picture he had ever looked , "I think whoever he is he must I: aristocrat, and it seems to me that he _ have had just such au experience as U pourtrayed, to have made the picture so ing," Pearle said, her eyes still readiu a _ high-bred faces. "I am glad you like it, Miss Melfer; Harold said, much pleased with the eirsiasm she manifested. " ' Like it,' does not half express it; ii bewitching, and the beauty of that is something wonderful," she answered, *" ing not to mind the glance which she felt"upon her. "I shall hang it in Graeie's room to-raorrc'; and I trust she will participate iu your en;? ment of it," the baronet replied. Pearle's heart gave a quick, startled thrcfor sometliiug told her that her admiration!: the engraving had caused him to make is disposition of it; but she quietly retnrnei _\ "Hiss Grace certainly has a very indulcs aud devoted father." "Her father is very grateful for the k> ness and tact that have helped to make i so winning and attractive of late. ii-. Melfert, I have no words to express :;>; appreciation of what you have accompli:-'-; since you came to Cheswick House," heH--in earnest tones. ; " Thank you ; but you must not give £#:.■ credit than is my due —Miss Grace, '&'■_ self, deserves very much for her perse*;auce, and for the battles which she haS; nobly fought and won. She is a very br::-: and promising girl, and if her health p tinues to improve in the future as it has to*in tho past, i trust she will be a sour« - : great comfort to you. But," Pearle cont:DW-i with a glance at the ormolu clock upon t ; - mantel, "the dear child will begin towowswhat has become of me, I fear, that I s^ , -' be absent so long. I will ask you to ejc~ : me, and I will go and tell her about beautiful picture that is to be hers,"andwij a graceful bow she turned as if to leave £ room. " One moment more, if you please, Ma Melfert," Sir Harold said, putting out 2 hand to detain her, and Pearle's heart bouo into her throat at the words, for she iz** instinctively from the slight tremble in iJ voice what was coming. '* I had another -•' tive aside from the picture, inasking yon h^, he continued, speaking quickly and look of great anxiety on his fine face ; _" f° ; ?J; me if I startle you, but I can keep silence longer. While you have been winning '.' daughter's heart, you have also I have learned to love you with a stflSs;.abiding love. I know you are a laJ.V r every sense of the word, though son:e 3£ verse fate has sent you out alone into world ; but I care not for the past—inyj i: ?-l ment tells me there could be no fault to i> with it. It is the future that concerns v> Miss Melfert, will you become my wife*-;, the mother of my motherless child? '.J you give me the right to love and clier> 3'ou, as the dearest object on earth, ana . give my child an affection that shall;- 5 - permanent, and guide her on in the nelV "'- she is beginiug to live? Margaret— often have I said the name over to myself; late !—how well I hare-learned to , 2f L j,, Grant, I pray, the boonlcrave> toward her lie took in his the beautiful n>; that iiung trembling by her side. Pearle had grown very pale, : ull of the cruel pain which surged tli :■:&? ier soul at his words. '' Lost again!" her heart cried out, bi'ctc-.i 'my peaceful, beautiful home that I ** oegining to love so much, and which cainine no longer—l must go away, avtf' ind wither shall I turn for refuge ? ' She lifted her large, grey eyes to his V£ ind there was a look of anguish in them t> imote him to the heart. " I think yen cannot realize what ;■' have been saying, sir," she said, sadly. '' By mv soul, I can ; 1 do fully realize i* he cried, flushing and bending nearer to V; ' 'jSTiv " he coutiuued, as she put up her ha:-, with 'a vesture of pain, to stop iini. '.. must lay my heart hare before you-tjow. > is impossible that I could live in the a-; house with you, seeing you every day, v knowing your goodness and- gentleness,£ not learn to love yon with an affetion U can only deepen with time. Do no. tell c* Margaret, that I cannot win you. I v wait—l will not importune, you, I f you time to think calmly of what I hi"

suddenly do not crush every hope now y become your wife.' "No!" he interrupted, appcalmgly. "It is impossible," she went on, as if she bad not heard him ; and, oh ! how her sweet lips trembled and paled over the ""™ls "that—l should ever become any good man s Iniz back as if from a blow. fhe flushed crimson at his words then drawing herself up, she lifted her head with an air of proud dignity. "Do not misunderstand mef" she said; "I am guilty of no wilful wrong—l am simply the victim ot cruel circumstances ; my fair fame is untarnished, my name as pure and free from stain as your own, but events of the most painful nature have combined to drive me from home Mid friends, compelling me tohide from the sight of all whom 1 once loved. "I knew it," the baronet cried, his face tiudliu" again with love and hope. '"I knew well enough that you were no ordinary governess, and now if the world has been hard

and cruel tow aid you, come to me and lot me Shelter you from its storms and frowns in the future ; let ...e make you my honoured, beloved wife ; let me give my child a gentle, tender mother. I know Grace would love you as such and be dutiful to you ; and, oh ! jdavaret, you can never know how my own heart yearns for you. I am older than you in years, but mv hoart is still warm and young, and I will surround you with the tenderest care that ever man gave to woman —" ... , "Don"t ■ ple-ise say no more, interrupted the unhappy girl, in a voice full of unshed tears: "believe me, it is uttcily impossible." . . "Nothing is impossible when we are determined to conquer," he pleaded, eagerly ; I could break down any barrier, I could move mountains, to win you, Margaret, and he opened hi" arms as if he would infold her, and ti us protect her fi om every evil thing. "Sir Harold!" she said, with a tone and look that sent the blood surging back into Ili3 heart, and made him instantly drop Ins arms to his side. Instinctively he knew that all his hopes must die. and through hiswliole soul yearned for her mightily, yet through no act of iiis should she ever have cause to reproach him ; if she could not be his willingly, he had no right to touch even so much as the hem of her garment. " I told you," she continued, with a shudder of aversion for what she had resolved to say, "that it was impossible, and I hoped I need not have to explain why ; but perhaps it were better that I should do so —I am already a wife!" A low groan burst from him at this startling intelligence ; then, with a gesture of despair, he cried, "A wife! then may Heaven

help me :" She stood before him, her white hands clasped almost convulsively, her proud head bent like a broken lily, her lovely face full of misery and humiliation for the confession which she had felt compelled to make. '•.Surely you can be no good man's wife, else you would not be here - you would not be hiding," he said, after a moment, and striving to recover from the shock he had. received. Her tense lips relaxed into something like a 3mile at his words, a trifle of comfort stole into her heart. This good, noble man believed her true and pure, and imputed the wrong where it rightly belonged. Then, as the waves of her trouble rolled over her afresh, and she remembered all she had suffered and lost, she lifted her Jion-eu head and cried out passionately. "No; of the vilest wretch that walks the earth." The trouble began to fade from the baronet's eyes. She did not love this man who •was her husband, then. Her words, her tone, all toll him that she loathed and despised him. Perhaps—after all— "Margaret, would you be freed from him if you could?" he asked, a strange, eager lisht in his eve. ~S!ie nearly "shrieked with pain as she remembered who, once before, had asked that same question. "->o," she said, proudly, and controlling herself. " my own pride and wilfnlness were the cause of my misery, and I can never_ be free from him. only as I can hide from him, unless—death should release me." Then breaking down beneath the pitying look that wept over his face, she almost sobbed, " I thought I was so safe here—l had begun to feel so content, and now I must qo —go, perhaps, to be caught again in the same toils that caused my ruin." "Go ! 20 away from here ! Xo, you must not do that!" Sir Harold said, with a start, and passing his hand across his brow in a dazed kind of irav. "Yes; it would not be right for me to remain longer after—after what you have said to me to-night," Pearle answered, wearily. The baronet stood silent for a moment with sternly compressed lips, and a white, troubled face. "Miss Melfert," he then said with sudden decision, though even his lips were colourless with the pain he was suffering, "such a proceeding is not to be thoughtfof for a moment. Think no more of what I have said ; let it be as if it never had been said. I give you my word a3 a gentleman that I will never refer to the subject again by either word, or look, or act, although I have received a blow from which it may take some time to recover. I cannot consent to part with you on Grace's account; I believe the child would grieve herself to death to lose you now. If any one must go, I will go. You say you feel safe, content here ; do not make me feel that I have driven you from your only refuge. Pray tell me, Aiiss Melfert, that you will remain, both for your own sake and my child's," he pleaded. How uood and noble he seemed standing there and pleading for her, when she could see that he was suffering as no common man could suffer '. how considerate for her, how courteous and chivalrous ! "Forgive me," he continued, with a slight break in his voice, " for the pain I have caused you ; and, believe me, I never would have breathed aught to offend you had I dreamed of arousing any unpleasant memories." He extended his hand with the frankness of an ordinary friend, though Pearle could see that it snook in spite of the stern selfCQutrol he was striving to exercise. She laid her own within it, and, with tears she could not restrain brimming in her eyes, she said, with a sob, "Forgive me for unwittingly adding to the sorrow you have already had to bear. It would have been better had I never come here." "Do not say that, please, after all that you have accomplished in that room upstairs," he returned, trying for her sake to speak cheerfully, as he dropped her hand, adding more earnestly as he did so, " You will stay Kith Grace, will you not. Miss Melfert ?" "I will—consider the matter," she answered, hesitatingly, and ; then turning, she quickly left the room. All night long she lay awake trying to decide what her duty was. Her heart yearned over Grace, but her inclination prompted her to go away where she would never be reminded of the sorrow she had unconsciously occasioned. She knew she could trust Sir Harold—he ivas a gentleman in every sense of the word— and she knew she would be treated with all due courtesy if she remained, and she would never be annoyed by any allusion to his affection for her. But the fact remained, nevertheless—he did love her deeply, truly ; and neither he nor she would be able to forget it, try as they would. But Grace, poor child, would indeed be inconsolable without her., and doubtless would soon drift back into her old wilful ways again if her restraining influence was removed ; besides, she was not well, she really needed her more than ever just now, and it was doubt™f tf any one could be found to take her place. *«^ e t'i duty Mainly said "stay," and striving accustomed work once nWe, and, with all her rßf JS* wh 1 a + t A acl l occurr e d > deling not a httle relieved that she was not yet to become a wanderer again. J Sir Harold strictly kept his pledge; by neither word, nor look, nor act did he ever .betray his love for Pevle again, and the most loyal subject could not have rendered his queen deeper respect than he accorded to hi 3 daughter's companion. Her every want was as kindly supplied as before, her tastes gratified in a most delicate manner, and without ostentation, andfher life made as pleasant and peaceful as it was possible to make it. <£, He came frequently to his though not as often as before, andjlwhile there, strove to be as cheerful as fojE? 1 " 1 ? ,, but the effort that all this cost tbß^S* 1 " minded man was almost more than hßf °H bear. He grew thin, and pale, ■*|Bjg. n pressed. Ulsfci ;+ Pearle could not fail to perceive itflißfter caused her many restless nights, ma»Ziffi||ifl tears, and aie longed to fly away fnPBT

sight. But Grace did not seem to rally, her strength appeared to be waning, and there werelome ctays when she could only lay back in her chair and listen to her companion while she read or sang, too weary and languid to either study or work ; and all this with his other disappointment, wore upon the baronet Tlan/times Pearle was tempted to cry out that her life was fated. "Am I doomed to brincr misery upon all with whom I come in contact? This good man—must Ins life also be ruined because of me ?" she sobbed, when thinking thus in the silence of her own " whispered the comforter to these remorseful plaints ; "your mission here was to that poor motherless child: she is the better for your coming ; if she lives, she will beautify and bless tlie lives of others from your teachini' example ; if she should die, she wile the better fitted for eter"\so she gathered such solace as she could from this view of her trials, and waited patiently f<* what the future should bring her.

CHAPTER XXIIIHOMELESS. The near future brought to Pearle a change which she had uot anticipated. Grace was one night violently attacked with the old trouble that had made her a cripple, this time in an aggravated form, and her physician gave Sir Harold no encouragement to hope that she would recover. Her sufferings were intense, but from the first she manifested a patience and gentleness that were as beautiful as wonderful. Her love for Pearle showed itself now more strongly than ever before ; she was comparatively content while she was by her side, but restless and nervous whenever she was " You will stay with me as much as you can for a little while longer, Miss Meltert? she pleaded wistfully one night, as her wasted hand sought Pearle's with a clinging clasp. n ... " For a little while ?" she repeated, with a sudden heart-pang. She had not ceased to hope that the sick frill would recover. "Yes; I shall not need you but a little while, and you are so beautiful I love to look at you. Ah, vou can never know how I have wished to be"beautiful all my life—how I have pitied and despised my poor, misshapen body and repulsive face," she said, with a long-drawn sigh. "But," with a pathetic smile, "since you have been here I have tried to reflect a little of your loveliness." "Dear child, do not say that," Pearle answered, almost sobbing at the child's implied doubt of her recovery. " You have a beauty that is all your own, it has been shining through—as I once told you it would —this long time." "Do you really mean that, dear Miss Melfert?—shining* through?" the sick girl asked, with glowing eyes. "I do, indeed, Grace ; and there is nothing more lovely than soul-beauty ; you have grown very attractive of late, dear." " You do not know how happy you have made me by saying that, Miss Melfert," the young girl said, kissing tiio hand she held, '•'to think that even a little of my life has been lovable is a irreat comfort. I have tried to be patient aiuUciud like you, and to learn to trust the great, good Shepherd of whom you have told me. 1 think Ido now, and I

do not believe 1 shall be afraid to go, when— the time comes," she concluded, softly, and with a far-away look in her dusky eyes. Pearle caught her breath at the words, and a thrill of pain quivered to her very finger tips. Grace noticed it, and drew her soft hand caressingly up to her hot cheek. "Dear Miss Margaret," she whispered, " I know that I have got to go pretty soon, but I am not afraid now ; and you will be glad to know that it is because you have taught me whv I need not fear. But," and the glowing eyes clouded a trifle with pain, " but when the time comes, you must try and comfort papa, for he will need it, ah ! so much." Pearle could only reply by kissing the feverish cheek with her trembling lips, she dare not trust her voice to speak. "I do not know why," the sick girl continued, and her innocent, unsuspicious words pierced her listener's heart afresh, "but I do not think papa has been very happy (luring the last few weeks—something has seemed to trouble him, though he has trieil not to show it. I cannot understand what should disturb him, but perhaps you can find out—you are wiser than I, and you have a way with you too, that wins one before one knows it. Miss Melfert, will you try and comfort papa for me ?" "Darling, you must not talk like this— j'ou must not be low-spirited, for I hope you are going to bo well again by and by," Pearle said, struggling hard for composure. Grace drew a long, deep breath, then said, naively yet very calmly, "I am not lowspirited, and if it were" not for adding to papa's sorrow, I think I had rather stop here —it tires me so to fight that naughty, wicked spirit, whiuh I never could quite conquer. I wonder if mamma loved our Friend, Miss Margaret ? Do you suppose she did?" she concluded, wistfully.

"I hope so, dear," Pearle replied, unsteadily, and trying to swallow the great lump in her throat which threatened to choke her.

" I wish you would take me up and let me lie in your arms just for once more," Grace continued, longingly, then added, as Pearle raised her and drew her to her bosom, "Thank you: I love to be here. Do you remember" that day when I was so very wicked, how you gathered me close to you ? It seemed then as if something was driven out of me, that never really came back again. How beautiful you have made my life since you have been here —I should never have known anything about happiness or peace but for you ! Will you think of it sometimes, and try not to forget me ?" " 1 could never forget you, my dear child," Pearle replied, clasping her lovingly to her bosom, while she dropped her cheek against the curly head lying so trustfully there.

She had grown to love the young girl with a deep and strong att'ection, and it nearly broke her heart to hear her talk thus of dying. "I feel almost as if I belong to you,' Grace continued, nestling contentedly in her arms; "the good part of me, I mean—if there is any good—for you began to make me so, and helped me so kindly and patiently over the hard places. Dear, dear Miss Margaret, I believe when the time comes for you to come home to heaven, I shall be the first one to come and meet you." Pearle thought she could not sit there and bear to hear her talk thus much longer. The choking sensation in her throat was terrible ; her heart sank lower and lower with every word, and told her that the child knew by intuition what she had failed to discover during all her watching by her bedside. But she could not bear to disturb her, she was so content lying in her arms and resting upon her bosom ; so she could ouly sit still and hold her breath to prevent her from sobbing outright.

" If you could only know how much I love yon, Miss Margaret,"she murmured, fondly, "and how truly sorry I am for ever causing you a moment of pain, I should be glad." "Do not speak of it, Grace, dear; you have been a great comfort to me, and I believe I love you as fondly as if you were my own little sister," and Pearle bent to enforce her words with a tender kiss.

"Do you really !" the sick girl exclaimed, a glad light for a moment illumining her wan face, " that almost makes me want to live longer. Oh ! if you could only have come to me before, I need not have been such a naughty child, and caused papa so many unhappy hours. Poor papa!" in a sad, weary tone; "'please tell him, by and by, how sorry I am. Ido not like to speak of it to him. Ido not wish him to remember or think of anything unpleasant when he is near me now. He will be very lonely when I go away. Mias Margaret, I wish you would stay here always," and the child looked up wistfully into the fair face bending over her.

Pearle sealed her lips with another kiss, a flush rising to her brow at these words, and she wondered if the child had suspected her father's own wishes in the matter, but her only reply was : "I shall stay with you, my dear, just as long as you need and want me." Grace seemed to be studying her face for a moment, then, with a little sigh, she closed her eyes wearily, saying, "Sing something, please." Sing ! when her heart was nearly bursting with grief! It seemed as if ehe could not, but summoning all her will to her aid, she made the effort, and sung a hymn in sweet, low tones until she saw her frail charge was sleeping, when laying her gently back on the pillow, ehe sought the nurse to take her place, and then went below to seek an interview with Sir Harold. The library door was ajar and she saw him sitting in a desponding attitude by the table. She rapped lightly, and the sigh which preceeded his '' Come in," smote her heavily ; but his face instantly lighted with pleased siirprise as she entered. Ho ceurteoualy arose and placed a chair for her, inquiring concerning his child aa he did so,

With brimming eyes and unsteady voice Pearle related something of the conversation which had just passed between herself and Grace, and asked him if he or the physician, considered her in a really critical condition. A spasm of anguish contracted his brow as he listened and his own tones -were hollow and trembling as he replied, " Miss Melfert, I have known that she could not live from the first, and I have been trying ever since to school myself to bear it, I think," he added, with exceeding bitterness, "that the fates must have singled me out as their especial football, since I seem to be smitten on every side. Chancing to glance up at that moment he caught the look of keen pain that swept over her face. i ! "I beg your pardon," he said. "I am selfish in my sorrow and forget that others can suffer as well as I; I ought not to weary you with my troubles." His tone was so hopeless, and her heart was already so sore from what she had learned that she could control herself no longer, and burying her face in her handkerchief she sobbed bitterly. The child she had learned to love so dearly must die; the last remaining household treasure was to be taken from this lonely, sorrowing man—it did seem almost too hard to be borne. "I hoped, ■' she said, at last, wiping the tears from her flushed cheeks, " that Grace s rambling talk about dying was only a sickly fancy that would pass away as she gained strength." "No; Dr. Hummel told me only to-day that she could live but a very little while ; but how she should have come to know it is more than 1 can account for—the conviction must have been intuitive. I have heard that people were sometimes warned of approaching death in that way," lie said, sighing heavily. " You should hear her talk, Sir Harold ; she is as peaceful and trustful as if she was planning for some long anticipated journey." The man groaned. "I suppose when she is gone, my—my house will be left unto me desolate. Oh ! Margaret "He gave her one agonized look, rose abruptly from his chair and left the room without another word, while Pearle went weeping back to her post by the dying giiTs bedside. The day wore wearily away, and the frail sufferer crew weaker every hour. But as her bodily strength waned her mind seemed to gather vigour and brilliancy, and the words that fell from her lips were like "apples of gold in pictures of silver"—something to be remembered and treasured by those who heard them as long as life should last. Sir Harold spent much of his time by her couch, and strove manfully for self-control and cheerfulness while in his child's presence; but when he went out from that room he seemed crushed and bowed to the earth with the «rief and rebellion that filled his soul. The fatal day came at length, when for the last time they all gathered around the dying girl to watch her breathe her life away, and then with nearly breaking hearts folded the small fair hands over the pulseless breast, and closed the white lids over the sightless eyes. Pearle would allow no one to robe her for her last long rest; with her own hands she arrayed her in the soft, spotless garments in which she was to be laid away ; her fingers alone arranged with loving touch for the last time the dusky curling hair, and plucked from the conservatory the (lowers she had loved best to lay over the still heart. Grace Cheswick was far more beautiful in death than she had ever been in life, for the suffering face was calm and peaceful now ; the lines of pain were all smoothed from her brow, and a faint sweet smile just parted her thin lips, as if when she was about to pass through the gates of pearl something of the glory'which had burst upon her flitting spirit had left its impress upon the garment of clay that she was leaving behind. Pearle had never met death face to face like this before. But it brought no terror to her —there was nothing repulsive about thfi fair form of the girl she had so dearly loved, and whose soul she had helped to educate for Heaven. Neither could she grieve for the life so early brought to an end, and freed from pain : she sorrowed for the lonely stricken man who refused to bo comforted, and who would now be so desolate and forlorn.

When the last sail rites were performed, Pearle knew that Cheswick House could no longer be her home. Her mission there was ended, her work done, and she must seek some other employment for her idle hauls and aching heart. She shrank from the change; but, knowing that it all must come, she sought the baronet the day following the funeral, and acquainted him with her decision.

Whatever Sir Harold's feelings were when he received this intelligence, lie managed to conceal them from her. He thanked her with deep emotion, for her unvaried kindness to his child, begged that she -would consider him her lite-long"friend, and that she would feel free to call upon him at any time, and in any emergency. He wrote a most hearty recommendation for her future use, and offered to assist her in procuring another situation. This Pearle declined, preferring not to be dependent upou any one, but on the morning of her departure he sent up to her room two advertisements which seemed attractive, and which she determined, to apply for at once. Bidding a mournful "good-bye" to the pleasant home where for nearly nine months she had been so .safe and content, she turned her back upon it, and went out once more into the world. [To be continued.l