TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 810, 9 September 1887, Page 7

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.]

A FAIR CRUSADER.

A STORY OF TO-DAY, BY WILLIAM WESTALL. Author of ‘The Phantom Citt,’ ‘Red Etyington,’ ‘Two Pinches of Snutf,' ‘The Old Factory,’ &c., &c. [ The Right of Translation is Reserved.] SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapters I and ll.—At Bagot’s Hotel, an old fashioned and highly respectable hostelry at Whiteshingles, is staying George Brandon, formerly of the 99th Irregular Cavalry, who distinguished themselves its the Indian Mutiny. He is joined by his nephew, (Edward Brandon, who, in answer to a telegram, runs down fiom Manchester to Whiteshingles to visit his unde. Edward notices a chain in the possession of his uncle, and at his requeet 'George Brandon tells its story. He had taken it from a mutineer whom he had slain in an engagement. He afterwards discovered that it had been stolen from a young English officer named Foster, who had fallen a victim to the sabre of the mutineer who had robbed him. Previous to this Foster had discovered that the girl whom he bad loved and to whom he was betrothed was in love with a fellow officer named Somers, having only consented to become Foster’s wife in order that her family might henefit by his wealth. He relinquishes her to his more fortunate rival, aDd then generously leaver them his fortune. His untimely death occurs shortly afterwards, and the pair, now married, are enriched by his bequest. Chapters 111 AND IV.—During their stay at Wbiteshingles George Brandon and his nephew came across members of the New Crusader army, a religious -community, one of whom, Sister Evelyn, as she is called, bears a striking resemblance to the original of dlhe portrait attached to Brandon’s chain. Mr Peter Brandon, at his home at Fairmead, receives a letter from Edward Brandon, in which he descants upon his uncle®B wealth. Peter iB George’s Benior by eome 20 years, but for some time they had not been on friendly terms until the death of Peter’s wife, softened somewhat the bitterness between them. He married again, and now Mrs P. Brandon the second looks upon the fortune of her husband’s brother as the possible future wealth of her infant son. Chapter V. and Vl.—George Brandon ouddenly misses the presence of Sister Evelyn, who has been ordered by the Crusader Com-mander-in-chief to proceed to another part of the country. Brandon leaves for London, and inquires from his brother Peter as to the whereabouts of a sister whom be discovers has married a journalist, Harold Minton, and has been the victim of cruelty and desertion. With Mrs Peter Brandon George is favourably impressed, and immediately ingratiates himself into her good opinion by the present of a rich cashmere shawl and a spiendid pearl necklace, enclosed in a hox of ebony inlaid with gold. Mrs Brandon declares that her husband’s brother is a beau garcon, and she never knew a handsomer, a more generous man. She also undertakes, in furtherance of her ambitiouß schemes for her heir, to see that George shall not marry. Chapters VII. and Vlll.—George Brandon discovers his sister Mary, Mrs Harold Minton, in the neighbourhood of Holloway. The husband is a hopeless inebriate, with occasional flashes of sobriety. In one of bis orgies George eeize3 him by the collar and completely cowes him with his manner. In bis drunken fits he acknowledges George as his master. Chapters IX. and X.—George declares his intention of making his will, and gets his brother Peter to prepare it for him. He leaves to his servant Ali Baba, £2,000 ; £5,000 to his • nephew George, and the remainder of his estate to be divided between Mary and Peter his brother. He hears from his sister that her husband has left her on one of his drunken orgies, taking with him all the money she has. George takes counsel with one of the White Crusade Army engaged in rescue work, who undertakes to find Minton. As he is Bitting in his club, the Sauuterer’s, George overhears a conversation between two of the visitors, and discovers in one of them Colo Del Somers, whose acquaintance he made in India, and to whom and his wife poor Foster, referred to eurlier in the story, had bequeathed his fortune. CHAPTER XI.—A Surprise. Before going back to Brick-street, George called again at Scotland Yard. He did not expect that the police could hava beard anything of Minton so soon, but he wanted, if possible, to pick up a few crumbs of comfort for his sister, who, as he could well Bee, would insist in believing that Harold bad come to acme ill until she received assurance to the contrary. ‘ No news yet,’ said the inspector, who had charge of the case, ‘ and you must not look for any this week. I daresay we shall find him, though. It is not as if Mr Minton wanted to get out of the country. He is somewhere in London I have no doubt.’ ‘ Bat are not people worse to find in London than any where else V ‘jlf they keep close and don’t betray themselves they are. And if Mr Minton has got inside some public-house and sticks there, it may be weeks before we fiud him ; not until his money is done. And there is another point to be considered. London is not exactly the ssfest place in the world for a drunken man with two hundred poundß in his pocket. He might be robbed, or worse, and Brick-tt-eet is not far from the river. However, I have sent a description of him to the Thames Division, and asked them to keep a sharp lookout.’ This was not very reassuring, and it is hardly necessary to say that George did not deem it expedient to impart the in>pector’s grim suggestion to his sister. He merely told her that both the police and Crusaders were doing all they could, and that they expected to have news of him in a few days. ‘ Of course. They are sure to say that. All the same, I very much doubt it. He • will not be heard of until his money is done, and then he will come back—if he is alive. The best

thing that could happen to my husband next to dying—would be to lose the use of his legs.’ ‘Lose the use of his leg 3 ! What on earth for, Mary ?’ •Because if he lost the u«e of his legs he would be obliged to Btay at home, and I would see to it that he did not drink. Besides, be never tries to drink nt home. Ye 3, George, if Harold could not walk I should be a happy woman.’ * Yes, you would hava the upper hand of him’theD, and no mistake. But you care too much about him, my poor Mary, He really is not worth it.’ * I know that quite well ; but you must remember that, being a woimd, more’n the pity, I naturally go by the rule of contrary. I vva3 looking for him last night aud nearly all this morning, and dreading to find him, though I felt I should not.’ ‘ Where have you b°en ?’ * Wherever T was likely io find dranken men—at public-house doors eni such like places.’ ‘ Alone ?’ ‘Yes, alone. Don’t be shocked. T have done it many a time before and tikf-n no harm. It is better than Btewing here iu my own juice.’ ‘You may do it once too often though, and there are some very rough places in this neigh, borhood. Why did yon come here ?’ ‘To be as far away from old friends and associations as possible, and because it is cheap living. * Well, if you must go about looking for your vagabond husband, you shall not go alone. My servant, Ali, Bhall go with you, or at anyrate follow you. As he wears a castor and a black coat at present, and i 3 not much darker than a swarthy Spaniard or Italian, he almost passes for a European.’ ‘ Would he be any good, da you think V * I don’t quite know what you mean by good. But he has eyes like needles, and knows Harold ; and if I tell Ali to kill anybody who molests you, Ali will do it. *An admirable man ! By all means send him. Bnt please tell him not to kill anybody without my orders. It would be a pity for such a true and faithful servant to get himself hanged without sufficier-t cause.’ The breezy heights of Hamp3tead whither George betook himself a few hours after leaving his sister was a pleasant change the sordid surroundings of Brick Street. Colonel Somers lived-in a charming ■ little bouse, covered with greenery and surrounded by a shady garden, where George, who was a little before his time, found biß host hard at work—for the old soldier had literally turned his sword into a pruning hook, and took as much pride in his flower beds as be bad once taken in bis regiment. ‘Come into.the house,’ he said, after he had Bhown his guest some cf bis floral treasures, ‘ and keep my wife company while I go and dres-.’ Mrs Somers was reposing languidly on a sofa, reading a French novel—a tall, bony woman with fine eyes, but a querulous, discontented face and long, lean neck. It was hard to believe that men had once gone will about her, and that one man had so loved her that he sacrificed his life in older, as he thought, to make her happy. * I am so glad to see you, Mr Brandon,’ she said. ‘ltis so pleasant to meet anybody who has been in India. How do you like England ?’ ‘ Pretty well. Not quite as well as I expected, though. I like sunshine.’ * I don’t like it at all—the climate, I mean. It is simply detestable, aod the servants make life a burden, I don’t think you will stay here long. I would not if I were yoa. Do you find ms much changed ?’ ‘ Well, just a little. Twenty years, you know ’ answered Brandon, who was not apt at turning compliments. ‘Ab, time, time !’ sighed the lady, ‘it i' making u 3 all old and ugly. But it ha 3 been very good to you, Mr Brandon, True, you look older ; yet you are not like me, you do not look old. People may say what they like about India, hut I am sure one ages faster here than there. You still wear Captain Foster’d chaiD. Do not open the locket please, the contrast would be too dreadful. Poor Jack 1 What a splonded fellow he was. So noble and devoted ! I shall never forget him,’ and a tear rolled down her attenuated cheek. Did she regret having preferred Tom to Jack ? It almost seemed so ; and it would be exactly like a woman, thought George, to repine because she had got her own way. ‘I had not the pleasure of knowing Captain Foster,’ he said, ‘ but from all I have heard, he was everything you say, and your husband ’ ' ‘ Here he is, and my sister !’ interrupted Mrs. Somers, with sudden animation. ‘ Let me introduce you : Mr Brandon, Miss Waterß; Miss Waters, Mr Brandon.' George, who was sitting with his back to the door, rose from his chair, turned round, and the next moment found himself shaking hands with—Sister Evelyn ! Nobody else. He could hardly believe his eyes. But though the poke bonnet was gone, and the Crusader uniform replaced by a black lace dress, there was no mistaking the power of that expressive face, the. pose, of that stately head, the . tender beauty of those golden eyes. He could hardly believe his ears. How was it possible for Evelyn to be Mrs Somers’sister, or rather, how conld Mrs Somero’ sister have become a Crusader ? The Waters were a proud, High Church family. Did sha want to recognise him ? It seemed not. She made no sign, and perceiving that she desired to ignore their meeting at Whitshingles, George muttered a few commonplaces and resumed his seat. 1 Why, now I think of it, you two have met before, though neither of you appear to know it,’ exclaimed Mrs Somers. 4 Of course they have,’ laughed her husband, *1 knew it all aiong, though I did not say anything.’ * When and where ?’ asked Evelyn quickly, at the same time casting a dubious glance at Brandon. ‘ Time, 1858 or 1859 ; place, Delhi. Don’t you remember General Waters—then Colonel —and his daughters, Brandon ?' *Of course I do. There were a good many, I think.’ •Rather. Well, Evelyn was the youngest, but as she was only abont seven or eight years old at the time, it ia not likely you would remember her.’

* I remember several young ladies .; but I should not have known Mbs Waters, and it is hardly possible she could know me.’ ‘ No,’ replied Evelyn with a smile. * So many officers came to our house at Delhi, and we children «aw very little of them. I left India when I was seven years old, and when I look back on my life there it seems like a dream. So many things have happened since.’ ‘ And some bf them not very pleasant things’ pnt in Mis Somers bitterly. ‘I wish we could put time back fif'een or twenty years, and that we were all in India and away from this foggy and sunless country.’ ‘A foolish wish,’ returned Evelyn gravely. ‘ How do you know we should make a better use of it ? And I don’t know that life is so very happy that we should want to live it over again—if we have to go through the same experiences’ * Oh, you ! perhaps, but everybody has -not been so I mean others may not have the same, the same views—or have gone through the same experience All are not alike, you know. Ab, there goes the gong aud here comes Alice to tell ns dinner is ready T exclaimed Mrs Somers joyfully, for she was getting rather mixed, aDd regarded th- interruption as a small godsend. George offered her his arm, and Colonel Somers followed with Evelyn, CHAPTER XII. HOME THRUSTS. * My sister has very peculiar views,’ said Mrs Somers in an undertone, * and does strange things sometimes Bnt as she is of age and her own mistress, I do not hold myself iu.auy way responsible. And great allowance must be made for her. she is the youngest of the family and Bhe has had trials. ‘lndeed V said George. to whom the connection between •the fact of Evelyn being the youngest of the family and having bad trials, was not qnite apparent, ‘ I am sorry to hear that, so y oung too.’ And then he paused, hoping for further revelations, but after remarking (just a little tartly) that her Bister was nearly twenty-five, Mrs Somers abruptly changed the subject, and left him fb much in the dark as ever. What could have happened to turn Miss Waters into a Crusader (that something had happened he entertained no doubt whatever, even before Mrs Somers mentioned that her sister had undergone trials), and why did they all so completely ignore the fact ? Perhaps Somers would be more communicative—good cheer generally loosens a man's tongue—but though they sat awhile after the ladies left the diniDg room, and smoked sev-ral cigarettes, the Colonel would not be drawn into conversation about his sister-in-law and the Waters family. ‘Evelyn is a deuced fine woman. I respect her immensely. But she has her own views and goes her own way, an 1 since her father died she has been practically her own mistres-,’ was almost the only observation on the subject he could be induced to make. * General Waters is dead then ?’ ‘Yes. He died nearly four years since. I think I did not tell yon that I met old Selboiite one day at the Rag. He was Provost Marshal after Giglipatam. He has got liver of course, always too fond of pegs, and can hardly get one leg before the other, poor old chop. And Mac Allister, yon remember Mac Allister Before your time, was he ? Oh yes ; I was forgetting that I am eight or ten years your senior. How time does fly to be sure when a man gets past forty ! However, he once told me about the best tiger story I ever beard, and I have heard a good many. He was hunting in the Sunderbunds ’ And so on, and so on. Anything to avoid tnlkiog abou 1 ; the Waters in general, and Evelyn in particular. The tiger story finished, the two men betook themselves fo the drawing-room and drank tea with the ladies. A little later Mrs Somers, who seemed to be suffering and complained of headache, withdrew. Then the conversation, which had been nearly altogether about India, and did not appear to interest Miss Waters, began to languish, and Colonel Stmsrs, who, like most old Indians, rose early, and had been out all day in the open air, began to nod. After a few vain efforts to fight the drowsy god off, he fell fast asleep, and George and Evelyn were virtually en tete-a-tete.’ ‘ Tom is a man of wonderfully regular habits,’ said Evelyn with a smile, * He is invariably asleep at half-past ninp, and as invariably wakens up at the stroke of ten.’ ‘ So he will sleep half an bour.’ * If we don’t waken him ; but he will be very sorry. I think I really must rouse him.’ ‘ Pray don’t, Miss Waters. Let him have his sleep out by all means. It would be a pity ; and I tun glnd of tbe opportunity. I want to have a quiet talk with you. , We are old acquaintances, it seems.’ * Of nearly twenty years’ standing, didn’t Tom say V ‘Well, it is quite eighteen since I was at your father’s house in Delhi. Do you know, I have been trying nearly all the evening to identify your features with those of one of the little oirla I saw there.’ ‘ You failed, of course. It is so long since. Our thoughts appear to have been rathar similar. I have tried to remember you.’ ‘ Aud did you succeed ?’ asked George, eagerly. ‘ Not iu the least. It is a very long time ago, and you must have altered very much.’ ‘ You remember seeing me at Whiteshingles, though V ‘Very well—and your liberality. It was very good of you to listen so attentively and give so generonsly.’ * Two sovereigns ; that was not much. That sermon of yours was worth ten times the money.’ ‘Don’t call it a eerurn, please. It was only ’ * What V * A few words.’ ‘ A few words spoken in season, let ub say.’ * If you like to put it in that wav.’ And they were well spoken. I thought, though, you were rather rough on the rich.’ ‘I don’t think I was unjust, that I said anything that was not true. I don’t want to be unjust to anybody, even in my mind. I spoke of a class, not of individuals. I know

rich people who spend their lives and fortunes in doing good. But how many are there who act as if they thought wealth and social position tbe only things worth.living for. Even parental 1 >ve is perverted ; they sacrifice their children to Moloch. I could tell you ... And wbat is more, nearly all of them profess to be religious, go to chcrch on Sundays, clothed in purple and fine linen, bow at the name of Jesus, andfaDcy they are followers of the Master who told tbe rich young man, if he would be perfect, to sell all that he had and give it to the poor.’ * I am sorry to be the object of your denunciation, Miss Waters.’ ‘You! But surely ’ ‘ Well, I don’t make any great professions, nor am I guilty of going to church every Sunday, by a long way. Bat, I fear I belong to the selfish rich.’ ‘I am very sorry if I have hurt jour feelings ; I did not mean to,’ said Evelyn softly, and with heightened colour. ‘ You did not hurt my feelings. You only reminded me of a fact. But do not set me down, please, as a mere money grabber. I am not even a merchant by predilection. As I failed to make myself a name or attain high rank in the army, I resolved to succeed in something ebe. £ went into trade, as being, about the only occupation open to me, and I have F'-oe -ded—o well that I should not object, nod- r certain conditions, to give it up altogether. I don’t think lam likely to become a miser. But money is a power, and I don’t, intend to throw mine away. I will try to do some what you call ‘ good' with it, though—if yon will show me the way.’ * I 1 Why do you ask me, Mr Brandon f exclaimed Evelyn, in evident surprise at George’s proposal to become her pupil in well doing. ‘ Because yon know how f o bestow money to advantage, and I do not. I should probably do more harm thau good if I tried. You go amongst these people and I daresay know of deserving cases.’ Maav, Mr Brandon, many. Yes, I could do a great deal of good with ‘ How much ?’ ‘ Twenty pounds. But that i 3 a great deal,' she added, hastily, as ir shocked by her own audacity. .‘Ten pounds would go a long way.’ George smiled. ‘ Do you live here ? Is this your home, I mean : ’ * I have no home.’ * No home !’ Perhaps I ought rather to say that I have several homes, for more than one house is always open to ice. Butr I have no fixed place of abode, no domicile connue, as the French say. I am a wanderer in fact, nearly always on the move, and to tell the truth, rather like it. A life of calm and contemplation would' not suit me at all.’ * I understand. You go about with those people—have to go "where you are ordered, I suppose.’ ‘ Oh no 1 I am only a volunteer, and ns I occupy no official position in tfce army, I go where I like—where I think I can be most useful.’ ‘How came you to join tbe Crusaders? They ssetn a rowdy vulgar lot, and no fit associate for a woman of culture and refinement.’ An expression of intense pain passed*' over Evelyn’s face. Brandon saw that he had Unwittingly made a seriouß mistake. * I beg your pardon, Miss Waters,’ be added earnestly. * The remark was qnite uncalled for. I had no right to make it. It seetned so strange meeting you at Whiteahiugles as a Crusader and then here as au old acquaintance, that I felt ’ » * Curious, I suppose, and legitimately so,* returned Evelyn, who had now recovered her composure. 1 1 really think I owe you some explanation, the more especially aa yon were so kind as not to mention the incident before my sister and brother-in-law.’ * I thought from yoar niauner that you did not want them to know.’ * Ob, they know quite well that T am a volunteer in the Crusader Army. We have had seme very warm discussions, and they have tried much and more to persuade mef to give it up. At last when they were convinced that it was of no use, and that we were never likely to agree on the subject, we made a treaty of peace, the essential conditions of which were that I should be allowed to go my own way, and no farther mention of the Crusader Army be made amongst u?. ‘lf they knew that you had seen me with the Crusaders at Whiteshingles, it would not only give them pain, but might possibly lead to further discussions, our agreement to the contrary notwithstanding.’ ‘ I understand,’ answered George, as if he were quite satisfied, although he vrajas far as ever from beiDg enlightened as to the original cause of her connection with the Crusaders. ‘I understand, and I think you were quite right. But—excuse ms for asking she question —do you really like associating with these people, do you think they do any sort of good ?’ * To both your questions I say emphatically, yes. There are a great many low and vulgar people amoDgst them, you think. Naturally; the Founder of Christianity sought his converts among the poor and lowly ; there was nothing He so much detested as th 9 smug respectability of the well-to-do. You object to their methods perhaps, and their military organisation. Well, they want most of all to save waifs and strays and castaways, the great* army of Miserables, which no other religious body either reaches or seriously attempts to reach. The only way to do this is to go literally into the highways and by ways and drum them up, and, so to speak, drag them iD. As for the military organisation, I cannot urge that it is an ideal system, but you rnnst take human nature as it is, and there can be no question that the discipline, titles, uniforms, music and the rest, generate an enthusiasm and create an esprit de corp which have proved wonderfully effective.’ ‘ I have no doubt of it. We are all fond of excitement, and anything which breaks the dull monotony of life is pretty sure to be popular. Processions and street preachings as conducted by the Crusaders do this ; they are noisy and lively. Going to church does not. Nothing in this world is more monotonous than the traditional sermon of the average parson. But wbat is the positive result ?—as regards, this world, I mean. I know these Crusaders are all persuaded of their individual salvation. But to be always thinking about the safety of one’s soul is surely not less ignoble than to be always thinking about the comfort of one’a

body. Both are rather low forma of selfishness, Far nobler, it Beems to me, would it be to try to make the world better, aa well for those who are of it as far those who may come after.’ ■v ‘Perhaps you are right. But how few seriously try to do this ! Do you, Mr Brancion"?* «A home thrust ! You have me there, Mix Waters,’ laughed George. * I acknowledge the impeachment. I cannot honestly say that I have tried at all, and but for you, I question whether I should have so much aa thought of trying.’ * But for me ?’ * Yes. It was your word in season at White ■ shingles that set me thinking ou the subject. It has been in my mind ever since, and I really menu to try, bo soon as I can see my way. Evelyn’s eye 3 brightened with pleasure. 4 i am so glad,’ she said, so glad, that any poor words of tniue should influence for good a man like you. Acknowledge now that the Crusaders do occasionally achieve some positive results,’ ‘ Another home thrust! Well you are so far right that if I had not heard your br.ss* band that Sunday morning I should neither have seen you nor heard your sermon, and that would have been a great 1033 to me in many ways. But, acknowledge that your 4 word was not quite in the usual Crusader style. I don t think that little jumping Captain liked it much. ‘Perhaps not. I have never pretended to accept the Chiefs theology. Yet all who believe in Christ may take part in the movement and co-operate in the work. And the positive results on which you lay so much stress are really very great. I know of no religious or phiianthrophic organisation that can vie with the Crusaders in doing actual material good. To begin with, all their converts must be teetotallers, aud when it is remembered how terrible are the evils caused by drink, thi3 alone is au immense gain. They have special organisations for reclaiming the fallen, homes where poor lost girls are received aud ciierishsd, and, if thev are willing, put into a better way of life. ” Places wnere discharged prisoners, be their crimes what they may, are token in aud provided with food and shelter and honeEt work. None are turned away, for _ the Crusaders regard the castaways as sisters and brothers : the more they have sinned the more they are t> be pitied. Those who condemn the Crusaders condemn Christianity, for with all their faults—and heaven knows they are not perfect—they come the nearest to the primitive Christian ideal. The Quakers did so once, and in theory do so still. But now they are all smugness and respectability l.ke the others.’ • * Well they don’t seek, proselytes among publicans and sinners. Scratch a Quaker of the period and you are pretty’ sure to find a - millionaire.’ Here the clock on the mantelpiece struck ten, and Colonel Pomera woke up. 4 God bless me !’ he exclaimed. lam afraid I have been asleep, Why did you not waken me, Evelyn S’ 4 Mr Brandon would not let me, and I knew you would waken at your üßuai time. ‘My usual time ! You will be making Brandon believe that I am guilty of a similar rudeness every night. It is only when I have been all day in the garden. ._ - It is about time we had the decanters in, isn’t it ?’ (ringing the bell). ‘Take a peg, Brandon.’ George took a peg, aud ball an hour later he took his leave. 4 1 nupnese you will be staying here for some time, Miss Waters V he said, as they shook hands. t 4 A few days. Probably until next Mon■day ’ 4 Why, what a rolling stone yon are, Evelyn ! Where are you. going next'!’ 6 X have work to do in town that will occupy me for a week or eo, and thee I must go to Beech Hull. It is au invitation of long standing, and Mrs PembertOD, who is far from well, says she particularly wants to see me.’ 4 Everybody who is in trouble wants to see you I think, Evelyn. Why, Beech Hall is in your neighborhood, Brandon ; J mean in the neighborhood of Fairmead. 4 ls it?’ said George, carelessly, ‘I know hardly anything of the country yet. Have had •only one drive, in fact. lii what direction does it lie V , . , 4 Right across tbe forest towards Waltham, about four or five miles isn’t it, Evelyn ?’ • Yes : but Beech Hall if not a grand place, only a farm bouse, and the Pembertons are not grand people.’ ‘Are you chaffing, Miss Waters, or do you really thick Itia too much of a swell to know common people. Don't judge me until you know me better, if you please.’ « Como again, soon now, yon know the way, old man,’ said Colonel Somers. 4 Don’t stand upon ceremony, we shall be delighted to Bee yfou at anytime.’ 4 Thanks, I will come again soon. Had a very pleasant evening,’ returned George as ha got into fcis cab, for he remained true to nis principle cf never walking when he could by any possibility ride. 4 I don’t think Brandon knows,’ said Colonel Somers, when he joined his wife. 4 1 am sure he does not, I should be surprised if he did. It was kept as quiet as such a thing could be, and he has not met anybody who would be likely to tell him.’ 4 He is curious though ; and don’t you think we ought to tell him.’ ‘Certainly not. Why should we ? It is no affair of his.’ 4 Of course- it is not. Only Evelyn is a tak ing sort of wo:nau, acd he seemed to admire her rather, and it would only be fair you know.’ ‘ That is nothing. It is easy to Bee that Mr Brandon is—a confirmed old bachelor and general admirer, fond of flirting, but afraid of matrimony. Men of his age don’t fail in wve with the .first pretty woman they meet. _ But what a match for her it might have been 1 4 She would not have him,Lillian. Sbewouid think him too worldly.’ ‘I don’t know. Ttere are few women, let them he as saintly and sanctimonious as they may, who would refuse George Brandon—if he courted them iu earnest. But it cannot be, ibe more's the pity.,’ (To’be Continued.)