DOROTHY AESOLD'S ESCAPE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXI, Issue 6966, 15 March 1884, Page 10 (Supplement)

DOROTHY AESOLD'S ESCAPE.

. ? Y „ MR3 - CEORCIE SHELOOS Author ot Xho Forsikeu Bride" up Tnampb," &c. ' ro *Ql*'i CHAPTER I, Roy's woo is c " Dot. do be serious, j UBt f or one' „ Koy, I wis never more BetloM nt life. ia Qy "Nonsense! With tho«e roguish , and those aimples playing at bide a a j ' in your cheeks, >ou look like any thi D 2 than the pcriocification of gravity or tl ll °' r fulness ; and—really, Dorne, tbn of great import to me." : ''fer "And to me also, since it inv o h ea , question of a life-time ; but if VO u i ° : Sir, ,I'd—l'd:rather not-—it' 3 to(j— an undertaking." c S.v". The pretty little elf who had b» en , dressed as " Dot" drew a deep br=atb the: subject under . consideration ''' heavily upon her heart; she demu ri .\ i . her dainty, dimpled hands, drcorirf ' 1 white lida: twinlilink ertK hard-to. look as .solemn as her In."' seemed to think thedec;.sion reciuired'' 1 ' But. the eftbrt ineffectual fbr J.side long, .mischievous, glaiice lib at l- ** ascertain if he were properly imprt« °'i!® her manner, she burst into. a. cleat- >' : laugh,.;tlir6wing:;back her early hear! mUS -' dl ' his shoulder with a graceful yi't -liiiif gesture; while the .room ran:- wi>h meiit. ■ ' The young lover flushed hotly for k„ ■ .stant,. then he was forced to smile fron »' n very infection of her mirth, l.; ' ne lip quivered .lightlj, an 4 pression of pain in: his. hannsonie ey'e« Cl ' W hen the-young:,girl had e\hv.iV ~1 self with laughter, she w.ptj the tear, UrL lier own eves aDd.exclainDcrl • " um riZS,7»°' ! "I am sure I don't see anything:-^, oliln.niy asking, ,you to marry rr.e. y - * little cruel; i think, Du;,"" the yoiiureturned; .his voice a tn lie huikv vvhole.face.full of pain now. ' ■' His,companion: sobered instantly. - His .emotion. was.too real to bc.-inist»bea trifled with, and she turned and* | o .y. °i straight into .his, face, every veatig. of iijV disappearing.from her -own. count.sianve ' Slie laid her small,, white bands up 3a ),• . shoulders, and fixing' h-;r glorious dark " .earnestly upon his,, aaid, gfently ; "•-Koy-,.1 .never dreamed: that- Vou : ever sa-y ;any.tbiug like-this to ine." " And why no:, pray V" " Why, w.e have grown up 'together eve, ; since we were:'.babies, playisg witii eaS L ; 9ther, and. sharing everything as' .if-iva ■brother and you seem 1 .ju«t i:''-.. . my own .brother,, and. I never have hid a s -'j p.cion that you entertaiued anything ,deeper than a fraternal affection for n:e." " But I have, Dot, -ail my life, and du.-ir, tho last year or two it has been growing' on me- until' it -has .been-hard-work 'for-metivcoa. . ccal'it, -and wait until- a proper time should . arrive, to tell' you. of it—it is a. Wonder' to Bi s that-you haven't suspected- it," he continue.) : with some warmtu ; " for I'm sure. I 'havi ; been as devoted and faithful to you as.evef.j lover could be." Dot!s eyes began to gleam again, at that word' "'lover,"' but seeing how' -deeply ■ ia" ' earnest : he was, she suppressed: .her inciiaation to explode again, and replied .appreciatively :■ " So you have, dear, you halve always been ' -more kind to Hie' than I deserve, anil I a:c afraid 1 have' selfishly aud thoughtlessly appropriate ! your attentions without properly : considering, tbe consequences. Hut it hai ai! come about so gradually thacl never stepnsd to think of it at a!l—it has: siniply'.be.eu the 1 outgrowth of our chiMis'n ihtimauy and the ■th».-friendship of .our parents." "But;'Dot,".the.you;ng man said, wistfully, ■"■.you have told me a hundred times that.ytu loved: me, I.believed, ypui 1 ' "and.so ldo love you, Roy, dearly, as I ■ would the best. of. brothers;; you. .are tlie '.' the dearest boy there ever was, and iust the : jolliost fellow in the whole; world fc-r a good time. " ; . J'. And, you have -.never thought. o£ ..such 0 thing as beiug my wife—never thought of : marriage.in counectionfwith me;?" hu .asteil, ■ in a crest-fallen tone. : " Kover, Koy—the idea lm never entered' my head." , - .; " What' is your objection to me as a hus- : band be asked; dejeitedly.. " I.haven't any objection to: you 1.-think you would, make one .of the best, hustands in the world for any one: who- -who—wanted one,", and Miss Dot gave him a sly glance, of. misohiof again. • ' Then why on earth won't you have me:!" . Dot laughed out musicalliy. She could ■not,help,it;, his expression was;Bo wbebegone", | and he had snapped her up so suddenly. Then/iu a half-comical, half-.patlie.' , .io'sort,of ' way; 'she;.answered'"'Bccause,. Ko'y, .1.-don't- want -to-marry any body.. I. 'am as' happy as:l can be as lam;,so ■what; would be the use '! isovv if you'll only be sensible, and let the matter drop, we pan. go 011 as we were before and have just ai nice, imes as ever.'' ■But I can't, drop it..;' a fellow cannot: give: up the hope, of hi 3 whole life, in any suoh easy fashion ; besides ws are getting too. old to go on iu this way any longer. I ■want, something- more- definit-j; you are ■ seventeen,-1 'am-twen'ty, and it. is tinie..w'e.be.gan to think of getting ..settled, in life it ws are ever gomg to. I've'always thought of you as .being my wife some day .; your fath»i;, and mine—before: he. died:—used to talk it over together; -planning to unite the t\y(> families.in this way,, and, Dot, if you "p.:and spoil-it all now,-, it; will be dreadfii'." V' l.don't think I.'like to be disposed of: ip any such mattar-of-fact way," she. said, spiritedly; " and,l ; .tell you I don't want M be married. .1 don't want-to be 'settled, ip life.' I mcan to have lots of Jun. yet,.and; for-pity's sake; don't talk of. growing "-olq;wait at least until you are. able to tiad one. grey hair in, your head." " But; Dot, don't you expect ever to be married?"

" Oh, I suppose so, sometime, every lioJy does, you know she answered, ligbt.l), . but theru's plenty of time for that by .and by, and I'm sure. 1. think it would bt awfully silly and.stupid for you and,me to.be.iuar.rjf r .d when we are'together all the time.33 it is. But I should have a ditferent feeling toward you, Dorrie, if .you were my wife, J'.'fi you know; you really belonged to me,, and .no one would ever get you away from m«f. " Oh, Hoy ! you, want to clip mv wings, do you ? Thank you, I'd rattier.not." '■' No, Dot, ; no ; you shall have all the freedom in the. world. I love you -you haven s any idea how J. love, and it you will uot b" my wife I shall be wretched ; and then.iis your father and mine used to plan, your fortune and mine .would be united and make such a line property." ■ " Ah ! then my tortune and I are weigh?'! ' in. the balance together, are wo ?" Miss Dot observed, sarcastically. She was becoming annoyed by his persistence, and it must be.confessed that Roy was not the wisest lover in the world in this his first attempt at wooing. He flushed .with anger and nortiticstior that .slie should so misunderstand, or pret?pJ to misunderstand him. He had grown up regarding her as ing to hiuv, and feeling that their marriage was.a fixed fact ; ana now he was inten j. upon proving the wisdom of such a unwDi as j as he had heard his father argue it wtt hers I when: he was. a boy,: forgetting that a * 1 -/ J maiden must be tenderly wooed ard not M. ! quickly won forgetting that shi would f I apt to resent his considering it all * i of course, and object to coolly discussing ?. pros and cons of the case as rider and wiser heads might do. He had not touched the romance of herß ture, but had simply told her that ho lo\e her and wanted her for his wife. . He might have bean more successful had pe been a little more diplomatic, and he remem* . bered that '' 4 Ho(hat would win his*damei. must dq. •As''five iloea whon.ho draws.bis bo* .. Witli.onoiband thrust the la froui, . wlth ; the other pull tier home." But'/neyhad, as she said, been lite bipther sad sister, all . their lives, and. now to brintf up ihc-subject of marriage, in tW> proa', matter-of-fact-way, or urge it beeauii it -fas, expedient* advißable, or the proper tlihg to do, repelled her and roused her tgouism;. -j re. / ■' is'ow, Dot. you are too bad," he sai?., 1 j jroaohfully in reply to the retort, .19 know that I do not care a snap for y money; and I should want you just as mo if you hadn't a penoy iu the w0r1d.,,... ; ■ - " Well, 1 wait until I aai reduced to poverty,. then come and ask me, and perhaps 1 sider the question then," she retoi ted. ta . liziogly.

h I wish your father would fail to-morrow," •Rov returned, passionately, "and that all your money was sunk in the depths of the Oh, Roy, what an ill-natured wish ! I wouldn't have believed it of you. It is Horrid to be poor, and have to do without nrrttv things, which you know I dote on ; acd l' ,u sure l' a P a wou ldn't thank you for invoking such a catastrophe upon him." "You drove me to it," he answered,

g'ne mmlonly turned on bim a bright and face. "Now, Key,' she said, "we have talked iiensense long enough. Be good for half an k onr and let us go and try that new duet." She would have danced over to the piano, which stood open, with several sheets of new •misic on the rack, but he caught her by the hands and held her fast, while he looked unfitly down into her laughing eyes. "I)c:-ie, do you love anybody else?" he -Eked, in a low, intense tone. "Lots o f people," she answered, saucily. "Of course," was the half petulant rejoinder. " But do you love any other fellow better than you do me ?" "So, my persistent inquisitor. You are f us t and foremost in my affections." ••Haug it! why won't you marry me 1 This verdant young wooer was losing his pal'.cuee. "B^cjiuse—l—aoii t—want—to, Dotsaid, liiti'-S ' ler l hand, spreading wide l,cr lingers, and counting olf the words upon t::cm with the forefinger of her right hand, her scad pc-rched like a bird's 011 one side, while S ' lJ looked at him with roguish dcriance. ••Now, for the third and last time, she added, '"I entreat you to be sensible. I .ion't like to quarrel with you. You know it- is sea' os ' my principles, and I never do it o ,,i v __uiieu I want my own way. Come, mako up, there's a dear,"' and the rnis chievoua eh" rose upon the tips of her toes, sr.it touched his cheek lightly and coaxiugly wirii her scarlet lips. lie op- ned his arms and claspcd her to him almost fiercely, while he kissed her pass,pu:'.'"<.ly in return, •• Dot'" he said, huskily, " you must never do that i.gain unless you can love me in the vsv 1 wish. I shall neverkissyou agsin in the_ old wav. I shall never touch your lips after this with any other than a lover's caress. This is no light love which 1 bear you. 1 sui dead in earnest about it." She locked up at him, half frightened by his passionate words, and a troubled gleam ca-iie into her eyes she saw how p;i!e be was. and he was taking her refusal to heart. This was the beginning of real life to her. Heretofore it had been all sunshine. She hid never had a thought or care for the future. Every wish Ind been anticipated, every thorn plucked from her pathway. "toy, you frighten me," she said, in a hushed torsi. •' Mv darling, I do not wish to do that, but Ido wan: you to love me. Will you trv ?'' "I do uot need, to try. I have told you that I love you already," she replied, reproachfully, while her pure eyes sought his js frankly uud fearlessly as tho3e of a little child would have looked into its mother's face while it told her the same thing. Hoy Davenport smiled bitterly: and a deep aigh escaped him. He knew that was not the love he craved, when she could speak of it so freely, with no drooping of those darkly-fringed lids, and no biush upon her fair, round cheek. He began to think he had made a mistake in speaking to her of marriage before he had tried to arouse her sleeping heart, or to touch the hidden spring beneath which love lay. |

He resolved that he would say no more at present. He would try to be patient, and perhaps the great awakening come now that he had broken the ice. iie would DOt think of failure. He must win her. He coulc not stand by and see another woo her, and bear her away from him. He dare not think of the terrible blank that his future would be if she should drift out of his life to brighten the home of some one else, and thus be lost to him for ever. " The nightingales among the sheltering boughs Of populous and trees Shall teach me how to woo thee, and shall toll me By what rcsi.-tIMS chirms and incantations They won their mates." ho repeated to himself, as, with a great effort, calling back his old familar smile, he drew her hand through his arm, and led her toward the piano. "I won't trouble you any more, Dorrie ; I'll be as 'sensible' as you wish," he said, as he seated her, and arranged the music upon the rack. Then he sat down beside her, and they spent an hour in hard practice trying to learn the difficult duet which he had brought her that morning from the city. R.oy Davenport had never denied Dot anything during her life, and with his whole soul aroused to a deathless love for her, it is not straDge that he should still exercise selfdenial for her ; and he resolved, at whatever ccst to himself, he would not annoy her again by repeating his proposals, at least nnri! he could read in her eves something cf love for him, such as thrilled every puteation of hi 3 own heart for her.

CHAPTEB 11. " WHO IS HE, DOT ?" I The Hon. James Davenport and Judge Francis Arnold bad been intimate friends from boyhood. Reared in the same village, they had attended the same school, recited in the same classes, had entered college at the same time, and graduated together. Then business interests separated them for a time, but after a. few years, prosperity having attended them, they both removed to PvOchester, N.Y., bought estates side by side, and built themselves mansions very nearly alike, and settled down to the enjoyment of life. They were more like a pair of affectionate brothers than friends, and both marrying cultivated and lovely ladies, this intimacy extended to their wives, and never was broken, or even marred, until death ruthlessly took one aDd left the other. A son was given to Mr. Davenport, whom he named JLe Roy ; and when, a few years later, a daughter was born to the Arnolds, the fond parents began to plan, as many others have done under like circumstances, to wed them to each other when they should reach a proper age, thus cementing more closely their life-long friendship, and eventually uniting their fine estates emd handsome fortunes. The children were brought up together, each feeling as free and as much at home in one house as the other; neither had a pleasure or a gift that was not shared by the other, and no punishment for any act of disobedience was so dreaded as that of being separated for even a day. Roy Davenport grew up a handsome, highminded youth. He had always been thoughtful and studious beyond his years, was conscientious, loving and gentle, and of a protective nature toward everybody and everything weaker than himself. He was particularly so toward his mother, especially after his father's death, which occurred when he was but fourteen years of age, and indeed he was chivalrously polite toward all ladies. His love for Dot had been an absorbing passion from his earliest remembrance. He was three years of age when, one morniDg, his mother took him over to "Auntie Arnold's" led him to a cradle, and showed him a wee mite of humanity which lay sleeping there in its pretty nest of silk, and lace, and flannel. "This is auntie's little girl baby," Mrs. Davenport had told him, with a smile as she watched his eyes grow large with surprise and wonder, as he looked upon the tiny stranger. He said nothing for several moments, but at lsst, lookins* up, he asserted, with an air proprietorship that was amazing in the extreme. " Roy's baby, too!" and he had always subsequently persisted in saying that Dot belonged to him, although any one seeing them together wultl have said that he belonged to Dot. judging by the way that l<e alwaj's sacrificed himself to her, seeking '•er pleasure and comfort in every instance before his own. Little Miss Dorothy Arnold—it's dreadful, isn't it, m y dear reader?—but I cannot Help it, for Dorothy it was, and I can introduce her by no other name, though when you come to consider what it means—" the gift God"—it softens it amazingly—was a small sovereign in her way, for she monopolized and ruled evers'body in both households from the very beginning o f her career. She was particularly lovely and dainty as i baby, and the rolling year 3 only served develop still greater beauty in her, until Jvery one who saw ber was ready to bow before her shrine, and do her will. She v,;;f the pet, the pride and plaything n f every member of both families, aud it is •»fe to say that wherever she was, she

managed not only to attract; attention, but to keep everybody busily employed for her.

She was christened Dorothy, much against her doting mamma's wish and good taste, for Mr. Arnold's step-mother, who volunteered to bequeath the small mite her whole fortune if she was allowed to bear her old-fashioned but very respectable name.

Mr. Arnold himself was not over pleased at the request; but Mrs. Arnold had been a good mother to him ; she had no children of her own, and unless she made a will in favour of some one, her large property would go to some distant relatives in another State ; so Dorothy the little ono, became, although the name was soon lost of in the shower of pet names which fell from the lips of all those who loved her, excepting, of course", her stately grandmamma, who always persisted in giving her the full benefit of it while she lived.

" The name really won't amount to much, for we can call her what we please," Mr. Arnold had said, in answer to his wife's objections: " it will be a comfort to the old 'lady, and the fortune, I must confess, is quite a plura n return for so small a favour. Two hundred thousand dollars for our small beauty in her own right is not to be despised, I assure you and so the heavy purse won the day over pride and euphony. Her lather called her Dot, Porrie, Doliy, and Pet; anything but the right thing ; bur, being so small and dainty, Doc seemed to be adopted as the favourite appellation by the household in general. The years rolled on, and Roy and Dot had scarcely been separated a day since her birth, and thus she had grown up loving aud depending upon him as a dear brother; hut not a thought of regarding him as a lover had ever crept into her small head until that morning on which our story opens, when he had come to her and suddenly declared a deeper, wanner affection for her.

She had noticed for a week or two previous that he had not appeared quite liko himself, hut she had attributed the change to everything save the right cmise, and was completely surprised by his propssal, while at tirst, as we have seen, she regarded his impetuous declaration only as a good joke, and made light of it accordingly. But now, as she sat-down to think it all over after he had gone, her bright, lovely face grew thoughtful and troubled. It seemed as if «be had lost a portion of the brightness out of her life—as if her dear Roy, her playmate, brother, friend, bad suddenly been taken from Her; and some 3trange being stood in his place: and, covering her face, she shed the first bitter tears that lie had ever caused her to shed in her life.

Something told her that they could never be the same to each othtr again—they could not "goon in the old way tho freedom of their intercourse had been interrupted, a barrier had suddenly risen between. them, and she could never lock up into his eyes again with the old careless frankness, for he would always think of what he had told her to-day. She would never be able to throw her arms I about his neck and kiss him as she had dour a thousand times in a fond, hearty fashion : indeed, he had told'her flic must uot, and that he should never touch her lips again except with a lover's caress, and her cheeks burned hotly as she thought of it, while a feeling of indignation was mingled with her grief, that he should have so disturbed the harmony of their live 3; and yet her heart did not "throb with''one responsive thrill to the love he had declared for her. . " It is too bad," she murmured, dejectedly. Roy is so except.onally nice always, and the best company in the world ; what jolly times we have had together all our lives ! aod now, I suppose, they are all over," she continued, with a long-drawn, regretful sigh, * for, of course, he won't feel like coming ■ here so much after this, and I suppose it wouldn't be proper for me to go about so freely with any one who wanted to ba my lover. Oh, dear'. how stupid it will be, without him. and all this talk about being married is just horrid ! I'll never marry anybody if I can help it," and with this characteristic resolution Dot ran up to her own room, put on her wraps, and went out to get rid ot her disagreeable thoughts. But she. was mistaken in some of her forebodings, for Roy ran in the next morning just as if nothing unusual had occurred—shere was only a sort of questioning, wistful look in his kind blue eyes as they met hers, to remind her of what had transpired yesterday bringing with him cards for a grand party to be given at the house of a friend. It is going to be a very rechtrclu: affair ; what will you wear. Dot ?" Koy asked, when they had talked it over, as they always did on such occasions, and manifesting his usual interest in her personal appearance. "I don't know, Roy ; I'm afraid 1 haven't anything quite nice for such a very fashionable party as this will be, " she answered, reflectively. '' Have something new : can t you. Dorrie ? and let me choose it for you, " Roy said eagerly. "Yes i£ von like; your taste is always good; what shall it be ? I'm sur* T shall be very glad to get rid of the responsibility, " the young girl answered, smiling. "I saw just the loveliest peachy thing yesterday. Mother sent me out to do a little shopping for her, and this lay all in a heap on the counter, looking like the after glow on the top of a snow clad-mountain. It will suit your dark hair and eyes and clear skin admirably. Put on your wraps while I run and order Firefly, and we will go and get it, " Roy concluded, rising to put his words into execution. Dot's eyes glistened as she ran away to obey his commands, forgetting for the time there was such an uncomfortable thing as a

" Jover" in the world. When B.oy drove his spirited horse to the door, she was standing on tne steps waiting for him, as bewitching a sprite as one dots not oft n see.

She was a lovely brunette, with nut-brown hair and eve?, with beautiful arching brows, a clear, dazzling skin, red, pouting, lips, when they were in repose, a round, dimpled chin ; but her chief charm lay in her smile. When those red lips relaxed, showing her little white teeth between, her eyes lighted, her.whole face sparkled, until she became irresistibly fascinating. She was rather below the medium height, with a well-rounded, graceful figure, and little hands and felif- that were never still a moment. Her motions were quick and energetic, yet with a sort of airy liahtness, that made one think of some bright, beautiful bird, and now as she stood on the steps, in her dark, rich dress, her costly seal-skin sacque, and cap with its scarlet breast, and watched " Miss Firefly" dash up to the door, her cheekß flushed, her eyes dancing with anticipation —for she nearly loved to ride—Ray Davenport thought her the loveliest and most winsome lassie m all the world. " She shall learn to love me ; I can never, never give her up to anybody else ; she belongs to me by the right of the mighty love which has grown with my youth," he breathed to himself, his whole heart gleamins; in his eyes. It was a clear, bright winter's day; the atmosphere was full of ozone, the sleighing fine, and seated behind a mettled steed like Firefly, wrapped to the chin in soft, warm robes, Dot aud Roy were prepared to enjoy their ride to the utmost. The matter of the party dress was disposed of—a delicate " peachy thing," as Roy had described it, in the shape of a lustrous silk, with all its lovely accompaniments, was purchased and then the youDg couple were off for a ten-mile drive over the glittering snow, and returned just before dinner, in the highest of spirits. " Koy is just the dearest fellow in all the world ! What a pity it is he can't be satisfied to let me love him on in the old way,' Dot sighed with something of a teeHng of self-reproach, as she skipped into the house, after watching him drive Firefly back to her stable ; while Roy himself went home more light of heart and hopeful, than he had expected to feel, simply because when he had stooped to kiss her as he helped her from the sleigh, she had drawn back with heightened colour, and with a light laugh ran up the steps out of his reach. "She is thinking," he mused with a joyous heartthrob, "and I'd a thousand times prefer her to be a little 3hy, than to look me pcjuarely in the face, as she did yesterday, and tell me outright that she loves me." ■ The night of the grand party arrived, and Dot when arrayed in her shimmering robes, was not "divinely tall," but certainly "most divinely fair," Roy said admiringly, when he came to take her to Mrs. Estabrooke's, the matron who was giving the' reception in honour of lier daughter's eighteenth'birthday. . " You're a flatterer, and you re only saying that just out of pride in your own good taste in selecting my dress," the young girl retorted mischievously. ,i'. " You haven't looked in the glass, pose, to know whether I am speaking the truth or not: allow me," and before she was

aware of what he was about,- he had whirled her away to the other side of the room, where there was a full length pier-glass, aud brought her face to face with her own charming reflection. The delicate hue of her dress seemed even more delicate than it really was beneath the folds of tulle which was draped over it, and fastened here and there with little bunches of lilies of the valley. Her hair was gathered into a simple knot at the back of lier head, and confined by a bandeau of pearls, while short, crisp locks fell low over her gleaming forehead almost down to her dancing eyes. Her round white neck and wrists were also clasped with pearis, and a lovely cluster of white violets and lilies of the valley depended from her belt. " The brightest Dot in the universe !" Roy said, gazing appreciatively at the pretty figure in the glass. " What made you choose lilifls aud violets ?" he asked, gently touching the fiowers in her belt, while he regarded her keenly. "Because I thought nothing else would look fo well with this colour as white, and because—" '• Because what?" he questioned, as she hesitated and turned from the glas3 witn heightened colour. " Because they are your favourites, and— and I thought they ought to go with your dress, you know." This latter explanation was made with a little defiant toss of her bright head, as if she did not intend to concede too much. "Thank you, Dorrie," returned Koy, with a sudden heart-bound, which sent the rich colour in a wave to his very forehead. " Who is that brilliant little piece of humanity, that dark-eye i, bewitchiug little fairv yonder, whose feet scarce seem to touch the Hoor as she dances t" inquired a tall, dark gentleman of a lady standing besido him, a few hours later, when the gay company gathered m Mrs. Estabrooke's elegant mansion were "tripping the light fantastic toe" to the time of a first class orchestra. "That is .Mis* Dorrie Arnold," the lady responded, watching Dot with a smile, for s'ne seemed so hap|>v aud cars free that her bright looks were infectious. "Ah! daughter ot Judge Arnold, the millionaire ?" " Yee." " What a dainty little mile she is." " She is, indeed—she is called ' Dot' by her intimate friends, and everybody loves her, lor site is always as sunny aud happy as you see her now." " She is charming ; will you introduce me?" The lady looked up at her companion with an arch expression. " Certainly, if you wish ; but—forewarned is forearmed, you know—don't set your affections there, for you will surely be disappointed if you do." " How so ?" "She has been spoken for these many yearn." • Indeed ! she seems but a child even now;" the gentleman said, a sneer curling his upper ip. ''may I ask who the successful aspiiaut is ?" •' Yonng Mr. Davenport; he stands yonder watching hi 3 fair inamorata with his heart in liiseyes." "Humph! that milk-and-water chnp?" >vas the somewhat contemptuous retort, as the man's glance followed his companion's look toward Koy. She flushed with something of indignation, tod responded, with considerable spirit : "You are cn'irely in sir,ken in your estimate of him, for a finer, or nobler-s[.iriied young man .'oes not walk the streets of Ilochester. Miss Arnold is at libery now, ind l-will introduce you." "Miss Arnold. Mr. Fontaine desires the honour of an introduction to you. Mr. Fontaine Miss Arnold." Dot was standing in a door-way leading to the hall, to get a breath of air, for she was very warm after her dauce, as these words [ell upon her ear. She started slightly, and looked up quickly to fiud a pair of piercing black eyes gazing admiringly down upou her. Something in their expression, she could not have told what, affected her strangely and sent the ricli colour surging into her cheeks while her darkly-fringed lids drooped shyly as she acknowledged the introduction. After a few commonplace remarks, which by the way, uttered in Mr. Fontaine's peculiarly magnetic tones, did not seem commonplace at all, ho requested the pleasure < f dancing with her, and as the next set happened not to be filled out on her card, he led her awav for a quadrille, and ere it wa3 ended our bright little Dot began to realise that she had never met a man like this belore. Mr. Fontaine would have been called, by the casual observer, a very handsome man, for lie possessed a finely formed figure, a massive head, surmounted by coal-black hair, strong, regular features, eyes, which, like his voice, had wonderful magnetic power, while his manner, when he chose, was irresistible. He was thirty-three or four years of age, though no one would have supposed it, lor there was not a thread of silver among his raven locks, there was not a flaw in his handsome teetfi, nor a wrinkle on his browHe had seen, or from his conversation ono would judge that he had seen much of the world ; lie was an adept in all the arts of polite society, and for the last ten years he had been searching for a rich wife. Ho might have married a dozen times, had he chosen so to do, and received in every instance a comfortable dowry, but he wanted a little more, none were quito rich enough, or the lady herself was not quite to his fanoy, and, so, as yet, he had never presented a Mrs. Fontaine to the world. But the moment he had espied Dot flitting to and fro in the mazy dance—marked her dainty form, her sparklinu face and charming manners, and learned that she was Judge Arnold's daughter—for he had heard of her from various sources, and knew that she had a large private fortune and was also the sole heir of her father's million—he made up his mind that he would lay siege to her unsophisticated heart, and win the blithesome little maiden for his wife.

" Who is he, Dot?" asked, with a shade of anxif-tv in his tone, as she came to him bright and sparkling after her dacce with the stranger. '• He was introduced to me as Mr. Fontaine ; isn't he handsome?" "X do not like his face ; there is something selfish aud cruel in it," l!oy answered, as he watched the tall , shapely figure move slow ly down the room. " 1 think him the handsomest man I have ever seen," Dat returned, spiritedly, "and he is such a charming partner, too."

Roy sighed involuntarily at this extinguisher, not because he desired to be considered especially handsome himself, but because he wished to be apreeable in Dot's eyes, aud he grew more and more anxious and troubled as the hours went by and she danced repeatedly with the stranger, while he seemed to have the power to call the brightest blushes to her cheeks, and to make her eyes droop beneath the fire in his, as thev had never done before in the world. "May I come to call npon you, Mi«s Arnold ?" Mr. Fontaine asked in his low, musical tones, as he was about taking leave of her that night. "Certainly: I shall be most happy to see you at any time," Dnrrie answered, wfthout stopping to consider that she ought to have her mother's sanction to the acquaintance first. Then she introduced Roy. who was standing by, waiting to take her to their carriage. The greeting between the two men was formal and constrained, for Roy did not like the stranger at all ; he mistrusted him, aud he knew by the lines about his mouth that at heart he was cruel and tyrannical, while Mr. Fontaine conjectured that he would have a formidable rival in this " high-bred youngster but he knew that it would not do to treat the rich Miss Arnold's escort rudely, at least in her presence ; so he threw as much of suavity and politeness as he could into his manner while addressing him. His parting with Dot he meant should be remembered, for he held her hand in a lingering clasp, as he said "good-night," and she went home to dream of brilliant black eyes, raven locks, a dark, handsome face, and low, musical tones which made her heart thrill strangely with every word he had spoken. [To he continued.] Auckland, N.Z., January 26th, 1884. Messrs. Levy and Co.: Dear Siis,—We have much pleasure in hearing testimony to the etlicscy of St. Jacob's Oil. Its huccd*s lias been particularly marked in one case of lameness in nur stables— tiiat of a very valuable liorse suffe'ing from severe sprain of the back sinews. so seveie as to <Wy the usual remedies. Other remedies lmving failed, we were induced to try St. Jacob's Oil, and after using it for a few dais the lameneis, which was almost chronic: entirely disappeared, and the horse bat since stood c nslatjt work. Wc have aNo used the Oil most successfully for bruises —in fact, it is a remedy that should b-at baud in every stable.— We are, yours laithiully, West End 'ilus Company, per S. Child, manaijor. Every householder should have a copy of i the Auckland Dlrec oryjuat out, price 5s for sale at all stationers .