BEYOND PARDON.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XX, Issue 6667, 31 March 1883, Page 3

BEYOND PARDON.

BY BERTUA M. CLAY, Author of "A Bitter Atonement," " A Dark Marriage Morn," " His Wife's Judgment," CHAPTER XIX. THE COMPACT OF FRIENDSHIP. "What has come to Lady Lynn?" one asked of another. "She grows more beantiful every day, and she has changed ; she is not so proud, so disdainful." It was true ; the love that filled her heart shono in her beautiful face, softened her manner, made her kind and gracious. It was but the beginning, and she found it so sweet. The time had not come yet when she was to be startled or frightened, or to see in this, her new-born happiness, the faintest shadow of sin ? it was so sweet—that was the pity of it—so unutterably, so pitifully sweet. There was something to live for. Every day she woke wondering when and where she should see him, quite sure that she would do so. It gave a zest and interest to the day such as she had never known a day possess before. She woke with a smile instead of a sitili; it was pleasaut to dream of him, to see "the handsome face smiling on her in her sleep ; it was pleasant to meet him, to fiec the blue eye-) brighten, for her to know that no matter how many were present they two were apart and alone ; it was pleasant to lean upon his strength, to Eee him, so tall, ereet, and stately, by her side. She liked his pleasant, caressing manner ; she liked to him near her ; there was a sense of safety and protection in knowing that he was with her and near her. It was pleasant when ho drew her soft wraps round her shoulders, when he escort-d her to and fro, and she thought how subtly sweet and dangerous it was. She had an interest in life now; before she had little—or none ; her heart was awake now, before it had simply slept, "i et even now, if there had been one hand stretched out, it might have sav-d her. She was naturally good ; she hid fine notions of honour and morality. She w<a one of those who would never have willingly gone wrong. She never saw the end, and if one hand had been held out to save her, she would have been saved. In every love-story, let it end as it may, the beginning is always sweet; it was unutterably so to her whose life had known no sweetness, no tenderness or love Bave that of the major and Nora. "I have found out what makes every one else so happy," she would say to herself; "it is because they have something to love, j Now I am happy too." She had no thought that this love was any dishonour, any wrong to her husband. Of that side she did not think at all ; she was dazzled by it ; she said to herself that she was a better woman for it—that she was more patient and gentle with the earl, more indulgent to all his little whims and tiresome fancies. She could well be with the bright, beautiful light shining on her own life. She was better in every way ; then why should she suspect the love that brightened her own life was a bad love ? This was the beginning; there had been no talk of lovo between them—always of friendshin ; they never made any appointments, yet they never p.rted at night without knowing where and bow often they should meet the next day. So—slowly, blindly, gradually, almost unconsciously— they fell into the snare. They were together one evening at the opera. Lady Lynn had gone alone, for the earl disliked singing as much as he did earwigs, and Sir Lionel had joined her in her box. She looked lovely, and as splendid as a young queen. She wore a dress of pale rose-coloured velvet, shrouded in her favourite black lace and the Lynn diamonds. She carried with her a bouquet of superb carnations, the fragrance of which penetrated far and near. Lady Lynn was very fond of carnations ; she thought their fr igrance the sweetest of all. A vision of beauty, the crimson velvet of the opera-box van a background from which her dark, .southern beauty was seen to perfection. Every gla°s ill the house was levelled at her. A whole regiment of opera-glasses would not have disconcerted Vivian, Countess of Lynn. It was when the sweet, passionate music of " The Trovatore" floated round her that her heart woke first to a sudden sense of the great passion th.it filled it—that she became conscious of newer life, of something in her own heart that was keenest pleasure and keenest pain—that dazed and hew ddered her. It was there, with the charm of the music all round them, with the sweet, subtle odour of | the carnations about them, that Lady Lynn [ told Sir Lionel the whole story of her life. He listened with intense interest. What a sweet, sad story it was ! "It is like a romance, Lady Lynn," he said, " I always thought you were of Spanish descent. You arc not like an Englishwoman ; you have a peculiar gracc. a peculiar stylo, a peculiar manner." '■ Do you like Englishwomen best?" she asked, and there was such wounded love, such jealousy in her voice, that he was not only immensely flattered but touched also. " No," he replied, eagerly, " 1 do not." Never one memory of the fair, sweet face at home came over him—never one.

" You are thinking that nil Engli?hwomnn would have been more reticient with you," she sal' l -. " Perhaps so, but I (lu not see alter all that reticiencc is KO very desirable : life is short enough, and I do not see why, for the want of a few words, we should miss some of the greatest pleasures it holds—do you ?" " No, that I certainly do not," ho replied.

" I should imagine tli.it Spaniards are more impulsive than "other people," she i-aid. "They are women of heart—quicker to love and quicker to hate." " You could never hale," lie said. " Y'ei. I could—l think I feel sure that I could hate any one who deccHved me." " No one would deceive yon," he said.

"That is begging the question, Sir Lionel, It would not be well for any one who tried.'

Oh i how beautiful, how mournful! for the first wailing notes of the music sounded. "That is what I could do," she said, her beautiful face softening, "I could sing my whole heart away." The proud, bright eyes were filled with tears. " You feel music intensely. Lady Lynn. " 1 love it—l live in it," she said, with an intensity that startled him. "It is only in music that my heart speaks at 2.11. My life has been all repression, I have had a thousand thoughts, but no one to whom I could express them. X have h.*\d fancies, dreams, wishes, hopes, longings, all shut up in my heart, until it has ached with the weight of them, and I had no one with whom 1 could talk them over, or who was interested in them. " Do you know," she asked, suddenly, " what there is in a repressed life V " No," he replied, "1 do not.'' " Strange," she continued, with tuat sweet, vibrating voice — " strange that all my thoughts, my wishes, my hopes and fears, the thoughts of long years back, come rushing out now to you. Stranger still should have the courage to tell you so." He was but a mortal man, and he had never shielded himself against temptation. If there could be any excuse f"r treachtry and weakness, he might have offered it then. With all the witchery of the sweet, sal music ringing and beating like a passionate pulse in the air—with all the witchery of that beautiful face, t l: ,e splendid dark eyes seeking his, the odour of the carnations so subtle and sweet, the vibrations of that exquisite voice, he was beside himself ; he forgot the fair face at home ; he forget the little children ; he forgot the fair names of honour and royalty ; he gave himself up to the wonder and the witchery of the hour ; he gave himself up to the3weet influence of the beautiful woman who was pouring out the secrets of her heart to him. Slowly the passionate music went on, and he drew nearer to her. Once he laid his hand on hers as it carlessly clasped the carnations, and she trembled like a leaf in the wind. Then she should have been beware, but it is at the beginning of love, always so—no matter hov it ends —so sweet.

They stood together for a few minutes in the crush room. "I shall never forget this night," she said to him. " I seem to have heard music for the first time, and it is because I have understood it." He took her to her carriage, and the beautiful face had never looked so exquisite as when she glanced at him in the starlight. "I wish you were going with me!" she said. "Would you—may I? I shall be much pleased if you could drop me down on tho way," he replied. "I shall he much pleased, she said, "Tell the coachman."

A few words to that attentive functionary, and they were in the carriage together ; he took his Beat by her side. No thought of Dunwold now, no thought of the fair young wife and the little children, only of the dark, glowing, Southern beauty by his side. She held the carnations, and he laid his hand over hers. She did not start or tremble this time, but she sat looking at it, a strong, brave, capable hand, she thought, although it white and slender. Suddenly, without rhyme or reason, without thought, acting on the impulse of the moment, she bent down and kissed it. I, who write her story who knew and loved her, who saw all the fine and noble qualities in her. grieve to write it. It was the warm Spanish impulse, which the cold English reason condemns. She saw the hand of the man she loved, and, bending her beautiful head with the quiet, graceful action of a frightened bird, she kissed it. Then her face grew burning red ; she was fri"htened, confused, embarrassed ; but the most chivalrous knight of olden times could not have been more chivalrous than Sir Lionel. He raised her hand to his lips.

"This is our compact of friendship," he said, anil in her heart of hearts she thaukert him.

" I told you I was impulsive, Sir Lionel !" she said. "Yonr impulses are all like yourself— sweet and beautiful," he said. " Do yon mean that, really ?" she asked. "Of course I do. How could they be anything else?" ho cried. "\ou ore the most gracious, as you are the most beautiful of women." "Only to you," she said, with a happy little laugh—" only to you. Do you know th it others call me cold, proud, indifferent, haughty, and hard of heart? You alone say that I am beautiful and gracious. I fsel inclined to believe you."

" You may believe me," he said. "I have never heard such words before," she said. "Oh, how beautiful life is, how happy, how bright. I am gl.nl I have lived. Ido not think that any otlier world can be *o bright as this." He thought to himself what a strange mixture she was of different qualities, and then the carriage stopped at the steps of his club.

"I must go, I am afraid, T.ady Lynn." but she only answered with a sigh.

" I know ! must," he s>.v.d, more resolutely. "I wish you would introduce me to Lord Lynn ; then I could visit you at your house sometimes."

She gave a little start of ill-concealed delight. "I had not thought of that," she said. " Yes, most certainly I will." " Now I must go ; every moment makes it harder. Good-night, Lady Lynn." But when he looked at the beautiful face it was as pale as a white rose. He tore himself away, for the dark eyes, seen in the starlight, told him that which made it dangerous for him to stay. CHAPTKR XX. A HCSUAND DECKtVKD. Vivian, Countess of Lynn, sits in her boudoir alone. She is trying to think what this house will be Mke if th« handsome, fairhaired English^ - ue"Orni ■ ccvistant visitor there. She smile ,'S she *,'.u sies the princely head and the laugiii..,? debc.iair f:.ce here in her boudoir ; what a different room it would be. Argos House was magnificently furnished; there was not, perhaps, a mora luxurious home in England ; but there was something cold and formal that even the sunny beauty of the young ceuntesa had not been able to remove; but, she thought to herself, the sanny smile, the laughing face of this young Englishman, would make a difference—would lessen the gloom. She would be delighted if he found an intimacy with the earl ; it would be such a relief to her. The earl was so old, so stern, so cross with her ; the bright young life, the sunny nature, the gay, girlish heart, were overshaded by this cross, jealous old man ; but if Sir Lionel came to the rescue, if he visited the house na;l imparted some of his bright spirit to it, lite would certainly be improved. Even now Bhe felt sotnc little difference ; there was an elasticity, a freedom, a glamour that she had never felt before, and she was both too young and too inexperienced to know that at this very juncture she ought to have taken warning. Wo man ought ever materially to influence the mind of a married woman except her husband, and certainly, just at this time, the beautiful Vivian was not influenced by her husband at all. Sir Lionel a>*emed to direct all her thoughts, to guide her opinions, to form her ideas. The entrance to a human heart is like the entrance to the gates of Eden—an angel with a flaming ' sword should always be there.

If the entrance be well guarded, the restiß sure ; but in the case of the (-ountesß of Lynn, the entrance was abandoned ; no angel stood there with sword of flame. She never even thought if she were doing right in giving her thoughts and time to anyone but the earl; from the first she made no defence ; from the first she closed her eyes and let the strength and the sweetness of the great temptation overpower her. If auyone had su.ldenly stretched out a hand to save her—had said to her, " You are on the road to ruin ; the first few steps arc hidden by flowers, but thomsgrow there sharp and deep"—she would have paused at once, aud have saved herself ; but there was no one to speak—the world does not grow angry or moral over such subjects—the world never scolds or remonstrates until people are found out; then it grows moral enough. The beautiful young countess saw the llowers, and pleasant enough they were, but she saw nothing of the long, sharp, cruel thorns hidden beneath them.

She went to sleep that evening with the happy feeling that life h;.d grown lighter and brighter, she could hardly tell how or why ; and her sleep was bauuted by the laughing glance of dark-blue eyes, by the de'uonair beauty of a man's face, and tiie caressing tunes ofamusieal voice. It was bettcrthandieaming of an angry old earl, with his sharp eyes and grim countenance—very much pleasanter ; and she never stopped to ask herself if she

were wrong. Morning brought her fairer dreams, for she knew the day would not pass without her

seeing him. In the meantime she thought mnch how she should best introduce him to her husband. In this way the earl loved his wife; be was greatiy disappointed in his marriage ; he had thought to secare to himself in this young and beautiful girl a companion and a nurse - he had believe I that in return for his wealth and title she would gi v him her tim-, her devotion, her interest. He had made no allowance for her youth and gaiety; he was disappointed because he found it impossible either to form her into a suitable companion for himself or change her into a model sick nurse. He might just as well have tried 11 chain a butterfly to a wheel. When his terrible fit =* of gout came on. his beautiful young wife would rather have down to the other end of the world than have attended to him, and the disappointment made him cross and jealous—the real fact being that the marriage was a cruel mistake, as all marriages without love are, and as all marriages between young and old must be. The earl was jealous of no one man in particular, but of the whole world of men ; he never cared to see bi3 beautiful wife surrounded by admirers, and men amused themselves quite as much with the delight of arousing the earl's jealousy as they did by their admiration of his wife.

Even women of the world, accustomed to nonsense and intrigue, accustimed to study themselves and their own wishes, even they must find it difficult at times to introduce the lover to the husbnnd. Lady Lynn found no such difficulty. Although knowing him htd changed the whole world for her, she had not admitted to her own mind that he was her lover. She was dazzled as one who looks too long at the sun ; the one idea that remained clear to her from many others was this—that if she could introduce Sir Lionel to the earl they would become friends, and all wonld be Well for her ; but she knew that it must be done in a very casual and indifferent way. She must not make a point of it, she must not evn seem to care about it; and fortune favoured her.

She pursuaded the earl that day to go out. There was nothing that Lsdy Lynn enjoyed more than riding, nor did her superb figure ever show to greater advantage t'aan on horseback. With the earl it was a different matter ; he had never been either an accomplished or a praceful rider, and now he cared loss than ever for the exercise. He consented to go out on the condition that he went in the carriage, and that his beautiful young wife eat by his side. Lady Lynn consented ; there was no prospect of enjoyment for her, but fate and fortune might combine to help her. It was possible thatshe might meet him wi'..'.' friends from whom an introduction might come with good grace. So it happened. Sir Lionel was in the Row, with the Duchess of Kene, and the duchess, who admired Lady Lynn, was only too delighted to see her. The carriage was Btopped, the earl was moat gallant and attentive to the duchess, and she introduced Sir Lionel to him.

He remembered in the after days that Lady Lynn and Sir Lionel merely exchanged bows, and tho earl had no idea that they were anything bnt ordinary acquaintances. Plainly as beautiful dark eyes ccnld speak hers said to him :

"Never mind me this morning; make yourself most agreeable to my husband." Sir Lionel succeeded exactly ; it was no plotting on his part; he had that faculty of understanding people at first sight that makes life so easy to any one. Hi understood the earl perfectly ; ho knew at once that the earl's great foible was that he liked to be amuseil ; he enjoyed a racy story, a piquant scandal, never dreaming that he himself would one day be the hero of the most piquant history of the day. During the ten minutes that the interval lasted, Sir Lionel told one excellent story aad two very pointed anecdotes, and the earl was delighted. "We have the famous wit, Sir Charles Rochester, coming todine with us on Friday," said the earl ; " you will like him. Can you join us, Sir Lionel? Lady Lynn shall acrid you a card." Sir Lionel was too worldly wise to jump at the invitation. The dark, blight eyes watching him shone with delight. " I shall b:: delighted," he said, " if X have nothing else—no other engagement. "If you have," said the earl, "you must give it up, Sir Lionel. I should like you to meet Sir Charles."

The dark eyea telegraphed to him, "Hold your own !" and lio replied, vvith a most courteous bow, that he would look over his engagements ; and Lord Lynn thought mucU more of him than if he had accepted the invitation eagerly. "That is'a fine young fellow," said the earl, as Sir Lionel went away. " Where did you meet him, Vivian?" " At the Duchess of Kene's ball." "You never mentioned him to me," said the earl, and his wife laughed. " I do not even remember the names of the people I meet," she said. " B;it Sir Lionel is an exception. I should have thought yon would have remembered him. You'are strange in your selection of friends," coutipi-'d the unsuspecting husband. "Now, i like Sir Lionel." " I have nothing whatever to say against him," replied Lady Lynn, and he might have guessed the truth from the swift crimson blushe? tlia ' covered her f.ice ; but, on the contrary, he fancied, from her indifferent manner, that she did not like him. " I tind," sakl the earl, "in these weary days very few who can make me laugh— very few who can amuse me. Sir Lionel can. I should like to cultivate him, and you will please me, Vivian, if you make the houße pleasant to him." The countess was almost frightened at her own success. Nothing ooukl have been better. Sir Lienel would visit Argos House as the earl's friend; he "would come often, and stay long, and she should have many happy hours with him. So it was the earl himself who forged the first links of the chain that fastened them together. She could look in her husband's face and smile, for there was nothing that prevented her. The earl was delighted the next day, when a note came from Sir Lionel to say that he had so far changed his plans as to leave Friday niaht free. "Vivian," he said, "Sir Lionel is coining ; should you mind seeing the chief cook yourself. I should like something rr.clicrchc. It is the first time he has dined with us."

Lady Lynn laughed. "You would impress 1. r:., Huton, more than I should," she replied. She thought to he'self the probability was that, coming to her house for the first time, Sir Lionel would think little enough of his dinner, and care even less. There was something singing in her heart all day, a new .melody, that made her pulse thrill—that stirred in her veins like new wine—that brightened her life and made her happy. Was it tie pleasure of a dinner party ? —was it knewing that she had made a new friend ?—was it the glamour left over her after that carriage-drive? Her face flushed wlu'ii she remembered how she had kissed his hand ; what had he thought of it? A " compact of friendship," he called it, and she said to herself that friendship was very beautiful—was by far the sweetest thing she had known in life. "How long did friendship last?" she wondered. She would 'is* that evening.

"For life,"she hoped, fo.. looking suddenly ahead through the long course of years, she saw nothing, if their friendship should end, but blank despair. She would ask him, and if he promised it should be fur life, she would be happy. The light of that happiness, poor chiid, layin her oyes and in her smile. "You look so young and girlish to-day, Vivian !" S'lid the earl. Aud her maid wondered at tho sweet snatches of song as she helped her mistress to dress. i CHAI'TKR XXI. AIiDICNT LOVE. i Ail event never forgotten in a woman's life iB the first time the sees in her own house the man whom she loves. To Lady Lynn tho pleasure was intense; that house, despite its luxury and magnific nee, had been something of a prison to her. She had often longed for a companion, for her husband was none. May and D cember conhl | never agree, and never will. December likes warm rooms, thick curtains, good wine, and repose. May likes the pure, fresh air, cool comfort, ripe fruit, an l plenty of excitement. The joung couutess had never known what it was to have any one with whom she could laugh and talk at her ease ; even her dainty boudoir seemed dull. If the earl had been her father instead of her husband, she would have lieen very happy ; as it was, she was just awakening to a passionate sense of loss, and of waut, and of something most sweet, yet most terrible, that she had not found in life. That day stood out to her iu clear and great relief against all the other days in her life. She had married without the least knowledge of life» marriage of the world ;

no one had made the least effort to save her. If the major had been living ho would have told her that love was the sweet haven of life ; but he slept soundly as his young comrade at Ga : enza, and would never specie warning more. She had gone hlindrohled t ■ her fate. Hitherto she had pleased herse f with all the pomp and splendour that surrounded h>T, and to-day—the day that he was coming—was perhaps the first where she had felt a personal pride in her magnificence ; she was pleased thit she should see the beautiful dining-room, with its few superb pictures, the cost'y carved sideboard, with its grind display of gold plate : tht-drawing-room that was not surpassed iu all London for its artistic elegance. it would all seem so much brighter when his laughing eyes had glanced around; she felt that a smile of his would brighten those rooms with a radiance they had never known before. S> in her heart this day a voice was singing—"He i-s coming—he is coming:" and she saw no harm iu tiie words.

How should she dress for him?-what llowers should she wtar? As he bent over her hand the other evening he had said, of all flower-i carnations were the fairest —that they had the richest odour—that they were his favo-.rites, and how beautiful she look- d with them. Carried away by the fervid passion of the hour, by the magic of the park eyes and the witching face, he forgot the flower that had be-n his emblem for so long because his wife loved it —the sweet violet; t.o thought of it came io him—he was lining in the present. Ltdy Lynn laughed to herself a3 she opened the pretty sentimental volume called "Th' 3 Language of Flnvers," wondering what in that most picturesque of all languages, a carnation meant. Her beautiful face flushed, and a light laugh rippled over her lips, a3 she read, " Carnation, ardent love !" Whit a beautiful meaning, and how true ! for ardent- love must be as sweet and as subtle. _ " I will dress myself in ardent love," she said, and for the Countess of Lynn to will or to wish for a thing was to have it. When she went into her dressing-room it was hard to imagine where all those rich, fragrant carnations had been found; they lay in a golden heap—they suggested golden sunshine, perfumed air, gleaming dew-drop?, bees and homy. She looked at them with delight. "Ardent love," she laughed to herself — " what a quantity of ardent lore 1" " Not silk, Flcrette," said the countess to her maid, who had laid ready a dress of white silk. "It must be lace with these; even silk would be too heavy for these. White, transparent lr.ee over the silk, if you like; and I want the fine white lace to bo fastened in fanciful folds with the flowers. I want the flowers in my hair, and sprays of them to catch up the white lace. Do >ou "I understand," said Florettc. "I will do my best." As she looked at the beautiful, listless face in the mirror, the clever Parißienne kaew that the love that comes once in life had eomo to her mistress. She had seen maoh and had observed much, and she ka«w when this fatal time arrived. She had lived with some to whom it brought happiness, with others to whom it brought death. She had served Lady Lynn with faithful devotion since her marriage, and this was the first time she had seen this iu her face.

"The poor child," sighed the Frenchwoman. "It has cc-me at last. I knew it must, with such eyes as those. She must love some one and break her own heart; she could not In lp herself. X wonder which of them it is."

The maid's heart was havy, for she had a true affecti-m for her mistress, and she had never yet seen good come of a marriage between youth and age. "She has no mother, no friend," thought Flon-tte. " There will be no onu to say a warning word to her, aud she will go. Heaven send she may not destroy herself !" Ah ! yes ; it had come, for as the young countess looked in the glas3 with a smile, the liglit that never yet lay on land or sea was on her face ; swe--t smiles rippled over her perfect lips; sweet thoughts and hopes lay in her dark eyes. She looked like the queen of the flowers she wore. Tile full heart overflowed just as Florette had seen that it won>d. She was bo unutterably happy she must speak to some one. " Florette," she said, " do you know what these 'ovely flowers mean ?" " No. my lady," was the decreet answer. "I have never had time to study the spjcch of the flowers."

"They mean ardent love," she said. "What a strange idea that a flower can express a sentiment!" "They are not true sentiments, my lady," said the practical maid, but she felt more sure than ever in her own. mind that the time had come.

No picture painted even by the grcafcopt r>f men was ever half so lovely as the Countess of Lynn when dresse 1 in the fine white lace and rich bloomiDg flowers. It was excellent taste that led her to avoid all jewellery ; she would not even wear one of the famous Lynn diamonds; sh* wanted all flowers, and the flowers that he loved. Her arms and shoulders gleamed marble-white «veu under the delicate white lace; her face had a rich pearl bloom ; her eyes were larger and darker than ever. " Ardent love !" slie repeated, over and over again, to herself, and the sound ot the words, without the sense even, pleased her,

As she disappeared down the grand old staircase, the rich white lace surging like Villows over the crimson floor-cloth, the odor of the carnations floatiug as she moved. Florette watched her gravely. " She is going to her doom," thought the girl—"going, in the gleam of jewels and the perfume of flowers, and there will be no one to say her nay." Florette had the curiosity to ask the names of the guests, an 1 the butler told her. The two she particularly noticed were Sir Charles Rochester and Sir Lionel Rydal; all the others were well known to her, and in her quiet, French, she said to herself: " It is one of the two."

Florette managed to pet a place on the grand staircase, from whence nnsrea slie could witness the little procession going in to dinner. She saw the two strangers. One a dark-haired nun, with a sarcastic face ; the other, tall, fair, handsome, and debonair. Lady Lynn was with him, the tips of her dainty fingers resting on his arm. "That is the one," said Floretto to herself. "Poor child! poor lady! It is but another version of the moth and the taper ; she will die in the flames."

Those who sat round the Argoi House dinner-table that evening did not soon forget the brilliant scene. Never had the queen of the season looked so beautiful or been so brilliant; she bewitched even one by her brightness, htrwit, and fascination. Sir Lionel was bewildered. She was tfie first of her peculiar type whom he had seen. His own wife was beautiful and a jcomplished, she was clever ind well-bred ; but not one Englishwoman in ten thousand hnd the vivacity and sparkle of this wonderful Southern girl ; she seemed to know and understand everything ; in one little spfrch she could lightly touch on two or threa popular topics. Sir Lionel was bewitched. Tiie earl was, for him, wonderfully amiable : he enjojed the society of the iwn gentlemen, and he enjoyed his wife's brightness. During dinner Lady Lynn said but little to Sir Lionel; abe knew nothing short of an earthqu tke would prevent the ear. from having his usual siesta ; and then siie would have a chance of speaking to him. Their meeting iuw b -en just.a little embarrassing. His eye% had s.iid so plainly, "How b'.autiful yon look to-night!" and when Ikheld out his hand to her, she thought of that I debciously happy moment in which she had I bent to kiss it, and he thought of the same I thing.

Now they were together. The earl had retired to his study for half an he ir's rest, without which he could not • njoy the eveniug ; mofit of Ihe other guests had gathered round the pian■>, where Lady Lendotver was singiu.', and the young countess was alone with Sir Lionel. She had gone to that part of the drawiiu-room wh ch opened int > the beautiful conservatory, a small conservatory, but S3 beautifully anuuged as to look much large* than it was. A fountain pi lyed iu the mills'; of the flowers, and the lamps were lighted.

No word was spoken ; silence is often more eloqueut than speech. Lady Lynn went through to the (lower.); Sir Lionel foil Aved her. No though-, of the fair young wife or the children at homo went with him : i-i the witchery of that hour he forgot everything except the girl herself. " How ijuiet it is here," sh" said. ' What a charm there is iu flowors and fountiias." He came up to her and s ; ood by her side. " It would b'.- ill-bred, I suppose, to make any comment on the moat beautiful toilet 1

have ever Been," he said, and .there cam# te him no memory of » fair-haired girl with purple violets in her white breast and in her golden hiir, no memory. " Do yon know why I chcse those flowers," " Because they suit yon, as glowing crimson suits all brunettes," he replied. That was the language oi hie lipa ; his eyes spoke quite another. " No ; I chose them because you said, the other evening, they were your favourite flowers." Not even the gle?.m of pale violet crossed the eyes of his mini). " They are so," he answered. "If 1 were to live for <yrer I should never forget you as you are now." "Come with me," said Lady Lynn; "I will show you what I think the loveliest flower in the wide world ; it lias silver leaves and golden bells. Have you seen it?" "No," he replied ; "1 fear that I am not a very ardent flower w.Tshippt r : somepeople seem to know all about dowers ; I love some, and with them my knowledge ends."

They stood together wh>.re the silver leaves and golden bells threw out a rich, heavy perfume. But when they turned away the one magnificent carnation she had worn in her white breast was gone, -scd Sir Lionel helil something near his heait. Every dream of the pale, sweet violet had faded from his tuind. [To be continued.] NEW STORA. A new and brilliantly written Novel, by Mrs. Oliphant, the Authoress of the " Chronicles of Carlingford," "Harry Jocelyu," "The Greatest Heiress in England," fix., will shortly be commenced. It is entitled "SIR TOM," and the sole right to publish it in New Zealand has been purchased by the Proprietors of this journal.