TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 826, 30 December 1887, Page 8

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST.PUBLISHED;]

THE TRACK OF THE STOEFi.

A NOVEL. BY DORA RUSSELL,

Author of ‘ Footprints in the: Snow, ‘ The Broken Seal,’ &c.,. &o.,"c&c [The Right of Translation is-Reserved.]

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS- CHAPTERS. Chapters It and ll.—Lucy King, the pretty daughter of the Rector- of Longford-by-the-Sea, and John Mainsters of Lee Grange, were madly in love with each other, though the attachment was not favored by Lucy’s mother. Tb.e owner of a yacht which he had called ‘The Lucy ’ he goes out on a cruise, and Lucy, the lady, not tbe vessel, is awaiting his return. As- she walks by the side of the restless sea a bottle is washed to her feet, bearing the following enclosed message : ‘Seven o’clock, a.m., Tuesday, October 9, —Yacht Lucy sinking. No hope. Anyone finding this message, please forward, to J. Munsters, Lee Grange, Northumberv land : or to Rev. James King, Longford: Rectory, Northumberland. John Munstesa. Good-bye, Lucy.’ The girl is shocked by the intelligence. The news is broken to Munster’s brother, one of the ne’er-do-well sort, but shortly after he had donned mourning, he is alarmed by a message from a Rotterdam merchant informing him that one of the vessels belonging to the firm had picked up at sea a shipwrecked sailor who, was bo-, lieved to have been one of the crow of the ‘ Lucy hia arm being tattooed with the name. - ,■ .. Chapters 111. to V.—Joe visits Rotterdam for the purpose of seeing the sailor saved from the wreck of the * finds that it is not his brother Jack, The sailor tells him that the captain of tbe ‘Luoy’ was alive when he left him, but just at this moment the sailor died, leaving the rergaindti

of the story untold. Joe keeps to himself what the man has told him, merely telegraphing back the words *lt was not Jack.; the', man is dead.’ Lucy is remoyed to the honße of an- aunt, Mrs Crauley-Forbes, where an attempt is made'o’induce her to oasb off her grief at the loss of her lover, but she still laments for him. Sir William Harley,-a rich M.P., casts favourable glances at her, and hopes are entertained hy her aunt that the girl will make a match with the wealthy widower. Chapters VI. to Vlll.—Poor Lucy receives a startling letter from home, her mother stating that her father, the Rector, is in pecuniary difficulties. Thereupon her annt urges Lucy to accept the wealthy Baronet aa a husband, and, goaded by circumstances, she gives a faltering ‘Yes’to Sir William, when he offers her his hand and heart. The news is received with delight by her mother, though the Rector knows that her heart is with her dead love, Jack. The wedding arrangements are hurried on, and it is two days from the ceremony when the Reotor is alarmed by the harried appearance of Joe who enters his studio white with excitement. ‘ Oh! Mr King/ he says, ‘I —I have heard from Jack —he is not dead !’

Chapters. IX. and X. —The good Rector, urged by his wife, decides to say nothing to Lucy as to the supposed discovery of Jack, and the marriage ceremony proceeds. As. the bride and bridegroom commence their honeymoon tour the latter tells his wife a story of a young fe low named Jack Mur* sters escaping death by shipwreck and is greatly surprised at seeing the effect of his narrative as she swoons in his arms. Chapter XI. and Xll.—Lucy in her married life, endeavors bravely to bear the burden of an unsympathetic and vulgar husband. Months roll on and Jack, through Sir William Harley’s son, is introduced into the house of his former love. Their meeting was a painful one ; in his eye Lucy saw reproach and pain. ‘ I did not know, Jack, 5 she tried to murmur/ meekly ; * you believe I did not know ;’ but her lips were dumb.

CHAPTER XIII. An Unpleasant Memory. A moment later Fred Harley ran into the room, still with an overcoat on, for he was in uniform, and warmly shook Jack Munsters’ hand. •So glad to see you, dear old fellow,’ he said. ‘ I’m awfully late, but I couldn’t get away before, as the General was down today. I need not introduce you to Lady "Harley'? No, of course not; you are old friends. Lucy, you must entertain him while I dress ; I won’t be long.’ •Very well, Fred,’ and Lucy smiled ; the presence of Fred Harley had somehow recalled her scattered senses. ‘ And how are you V she said the next minute, looking at Jack, as her stepson hurried out of the room. 1 Fred told me you still suffered from your head.’ ‘I had a hole knocked in my head, you

know,’ answered Jack Munsters with a smile. But I dare say you have heard all about it—the Rector would tell you I suppose ?’ ‘No,’ arid Lucy’s face flushed ; * I—l only heard—after—when I was abroad my mother wrote to me—they—told me there was no hope.' ‘Well, I suppose there was no reasonable hope ; when a ship goes down at sea, and nonaof the crew are heard of for a couple of months or so. no one expects you to cast up again.’ And Jack gave rather a harati laugh. ‘lt was so dreadful—too dreadful, Jack !’ * They told me you found my message on the shore ; -did you ?’ Lucy’s lips had parted to reply ; her blue ■eye.?, full of emotion were fixed on Jack’s face, when the door once more opened, and Sir William? Harley, pompous and self-con-scious as usual, walked in, and fixed his •eyes inquiringly on the young man standing hefor his wife. ‘Ah Mr Munsters, I presume ? Lucy, my dear, introduce me.’ ‘ Sir William Harley,’ faltered Lucy. Jack Munsters conld scarcely believe as he looked at the stout, elderly, plain man, that this could be Lucy’s husband. It struck him as too horrible, too unnatural. The news of her marriage had been a great aud bitter blow to him, for he had loved her so deaily, been so sure of her love. And that she could marry such a one as this ! Jack amiled a little grimly as he took Sir William’s offered hand, and was congratulated on his extraordinary escape. * Most remarkable thing, Mr Munsters ; injury on the head, pressure ou the brain doubtless. Ah, “ memory, the warder of the brain,” then slept ? What can you recall last ?’

* The rash of waters in my ear 3 ; battling with giants. I was conscious some ten minutes, I think, after the Lucy went down.’ ‘TheLucy ?’ repeated Sir William ; ‘ was your yacht, then, called the Lucy ?’ Both the young people before him blushed crimson at this question. ‘That was her name,’’ answered Jack, a little huskily; ‘ Ah ! I believe your property is situated somewhere near Mr King’s Rectory at Long-ford-by-dhe sea, is it not ?’ ‘Yes. My seanty acres run down to the

very walls of. the Rectory. My father sold the ground on which the house is built to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.’ ‘ Just so. Ah, here is my daughter. Well, Harriet, my dear;’ and he bent his', statelyhead to receive the usual kiss on the top of his nose. ‘Harriet, this is Mr Munsters, yonr brother’s friend, you know.’ i ‘ And Lady Harley's friend,’ smiled Mrs Lawley. • ‘I have heard such a lot about you. lam glad to know yon. 1 Jack bowed gravely,, and Mrs Lawley could not help reflecting how good-looking he waa. ‘ And you lost your little yacht ? What a pity. I sometimes go to the Cowes regatta, I wonder if I have seen her there ? What did they call her ?’ continued Mrs Lawley, in her lively way. * ‘ She was called The Lucy.’ ‘ The Lucy 1’ echoed Mrs Lawley with a light laugh. ‘ Did you call her after Lady Harley, then ?’. , Jack’s brown face again grew crimson, but he answered very quietly—- * Yes, she was called after Lady Harley when Lady Harley waa a child.’ ‘ But you were children together, I should think. Boy and girl sweethearts, I dare say? Did you gather shells on the shore together in your interesting infancy then?’ ■ \ - And again Mrs Lawley laughed, but , Sir William, who had been listening to this conversation, frowned. ‘ I do not remember the shells,’ answered Jack, ‘ but I have known Lady Harley alt my life.’ * ‘ « ‘ How pleasant for you to meet again. Here come 3 Fred—Fred, did you know that the yacht Mr Mnnstera lost was called after Lady Harley here ? Isn’t it a funny coincidence ?’ * I see nothing fnnny in it, Hatty, answered the good-natured Fred; ‘Jack has ( known Lady Harley a longtime ; why should he not call his yacht after her ?’ *My poor namesake had a sad end ; I hope it is not a warning to me 1’ said Lucy, with carelessness. _ * I think we have now fully discussed the name of Mr Munsters’ yacht,’ remarked Sir William, with a little extra pomposity. ‘ Mr Munsters, kindly take Mrs Lawley down to dinner. Lawley, please give your arm to Lady Harley.’ Thus Lucy could not talk to her old friend at dinner, but again and again her eyes stole to bis fac3 and lingered there, dwelling on the familiar lineaments.

How good-looking he, was, she thought ; what a manly, honest face, with truth shining in his clear gr.-y eyes ! Then she glanced at the man whose name she bore, and read there the outward signs of a sensual, selfindulgent heart. Poor Lucy! fro.n first to last her marriage had been a misery, a mistake ; but she never felt it so bitter until now. She was ashamed of Sir William before Jack ; ashamed of his ponderous jokes, his tiresome quotations, his self-importance, and his years ! His daughter was older than she was by some years at least, and she knew what jack must think of her as she sat there just opposite her old husband. She had mairied Sir William for money, and tried to heal a sore and grieving heart with the gauds of this world. At least she had hoped to do this, and on her wedding day she had heard the news which ought to have filled her life with purest joy. Bat now there was no joy for her, Lucy thought, no joy for evermore! “ How weary and heartsick she felt, as she sat listening to the lively conversation Mrs Lawley was carrying on with Jack. She thought that to look on his living face again would make her feel happy, but it was not so. He scarcely looked at her. He seemec very well amused. Perhaps Jack had found it easier to forget her than she had thought he would. • ~ As soon as the two ladies returned to the drawing-room, Mrs Lawley began to praise * How nice your triend is,’ she said, ‘ I like him amazingly ; so full of life and earnestness. Do you know he is going to buy a new yacht ? I intend to make great love -to him, for I hope he will take us out in it occasionally. I want to go to Scotland in the autumn ; do you think my father would go ?’ ■ ‘ I have heard nothing about being asked yet,’ answered Lucy, ‘ and nothing about a new vacht.’ .■Hehas been telling me; he loves the sea fchongh it so nearly killed him. 1 like nis pluck. I wonder If he will call his new yacht "Lucy,” too ?’ And Mrs Lawley laughed. * I am quite sure he won’t.’ - Why ?’ ‘The name was an unlucky one for him, said Lucy, in a low tone. y , ■’ ‘ His second Lucy may be more fortunate,’ said Mrs Lawley smiling. And then she went to the piano and began singing. a fashionable song in a clear, ringing voice. While she was doing so 'he three gentlemen re-entered the drawing room, and Jack Munsters aftera moment’s hesitation, brought a chair across the room and sat down by Lucy’s side. ' . , ‘I half expected’to see Prissy to-night, he said. ‘ I saw the Rector one day before 1 left the North, and he said Pris3y was with you.’

*So she was until the morning ; she left this morning,’answered Lucy. ‘ Only this morning ? What a pity ! I should have taken her down with pleasure ; I return in a day or two.’ > , * You are not making a long stay then ?’ * Oh, no —the country suits me be t and the sea.' ,

‘ Ah ! the sea—the thought of it makes me shudder !’

‘ Why, Lucy ?’ ‘ I have thought of it as your grave.’ I ucy clasped her hands together nervously as she said this, and her delicate color came and went.

‘Well, one. might have a worse grave; I suppose some day it will be my grave.’ ' ‘ On ! do not say that, Jack ! Why do yon tempt your fate anymore ?’ * I am too restless for the land ; I am more restless now.’

Mrs Lawley had finished her song, and she turned round on the music-stool and watched Jack and Lucy with an amused smile.

Other eyes were watching them, too; jealous, angry eye 3 behind their gold-rimmed glasses. Sir William had retired to his easy chair on coming into the drawing-room for the purpose of taking his usual dose ; but somehow the sight of Jack Munsters-sitting talking to Ludy, and her interested, earnest face, had not bad a somnific affect upon his brain. He had not liked that conversation before dinner regarding the name of the lost yacht. He considered it a liberty of a young fellow like this Munsters to presume to say that his yacht was named after Lady Harley. Nor had he liked the idea that these two young people had known each other from childhood.

And suddenly, as he sat there scowling behind his newspaper, which he was holding partly over his face a thought flashed into his mind that filled his soul for the first time in his life with jealous rage. It was the memory of his wedding-day that came back to him ; the memory of that journey to Dover in the drifting rain, when Lucy had fallen back fainting in his arms, and for some moments he actually had believed her to be dead. He remembered his fear and horror now ; and he remembered, too, with a suppressed curse on his quivering lips, of what they were talking when Lucy waa seized with this strange attack. Had this man been her lover ? There was something in Lacy’s face, in her attitude, as she bent forward with her parted lips and tender smile, that made Sir William believe this. He was by no means a jealous man in general. He was too intensely vain and self-satisfied to be jealous ; but of Lucy’B early girlhood what did he know ? ‘ Are you telling Lady Harley about the new yacht,’ now cried Mrs Lawley across the room, for she had caught Jack’s eye. ‘ She and I have been speculating if you will call the next one Lucy, too?’ ‘I said nothing of the sort, if you remember,’ said Lucy with sudden anger. ‘ Did you not? 1 thought you did.. Will you come and have a game at pool with me, Mr Munstersi lam sure you play well, and my father has a splendid billiard table J’ For a moment Jack hesitated, and looked at Lucy ; then he said : «I shall have great pleasure,’ and he rose and followed Mrs Lawley and the other two young men out of the room. Lucy was going too, when suddenly Sir William started up and caught her by the wrist. ‘ Stay where yon are,’ he said; in an emphatic whisper ; ‘ I will notlhave you running after that young man, He is an impertinent, intrusive fool.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lucy, also in a low tone, as she pulled her hand away from her husband’s grasp. * I shall tell yon later. Sit down now, and remain with me.’ Lucy was afraid to make any further remonstrance. She sat down and. took up a book, and pretended to read ; her heart the while full of suppressed bitterness and rage. Once she glanced at her husband’s face, and it had never seemed so uncomely to her eyes. What a bondage, wbat a life 1 She could hear the laughter and the voices of the young people at the billiard table, and the crack of the balls. They seemed merry enough—that was Jack’s laugh—thought the woman weighed down by the weight of her gilded chains. Presently Sir William pulled out his watch and looked at the time. ‘ A quarter past twelve o’clock,’ he said ; ‘is that person never going I wonder ?’ ‘ I wonder you don’t turn 'him out as he is a friend of mine, like you turned out. my sister this morniDg,’ said Lucy, with indignation gleaming in her bine eyes. * I have a very good mind to,’ answered Sir William in a rage. A moment or two later, however, Captain and Mrs Lawley, Jack Munsters, and Fred Harlev re-entered the room, all talking and smiling. ‘We have had a splendid game, said Mrs Lawley, addressing Lucy. ‘ Why did you not come and join ?’ Lucy made no reply, and then Jack approached her.’ * Can I be the hearer of any parcel or message to the North ?’ he said. * I think I Bhall leave town the day after tomorrow.’ ■ - ■ ‘ Yon will see Prissy,’ answered Lucy, her heart hot with defiance and anger ; she has a message for you.’ ‘ For me ? Good-bye then, if I can do nothing.’ ‘ Good-bye, Jack.’ In a minute or two they were all gone, and the,husband and wife were alone. Then Sir William majestically approached Lucy. ‘ What does this all mean V he asked. ‘ I do not understand you.’ Why are you sending messages ? how dare you Bend messages to that young man. What is this young man to you ? ‘ Yon heard. An old friend,’ answered Lucy, growing very pale '; and without an* other word she left the room, going to her own and locking the door behind her, and then flung herself on her knees in' a fit of passionate and uncontrollable weeping. •

CHAPTER XIV. A SKELETON. Surely the old saying that there is a skeleton hidden in every house cannot be actually

true ? Yet under how mauy prosperous roofs the unwelcome dweller stays l Hare we all one, I wonder—some dark shadow hovering near our hearts we fear and shrink from ? *:There is always something.; people say ; .' some flaw, some rift, even in the happiest lives.’ Therefore, though Sir William Har--1 y had a* very substantial skeleton of his own to contend with, he perhaps was only sharing the common lot. He kept bis hidden away very closely. There were no ponderous jests, nor inapt quotations wasted on that silent secret visitor, that yet lived for btm night and day, tapping him on the baok occasionally even in his moments of merriment ; sitting by him sometimes among his fellow law-givers, but always ignored, and if possible forgotten, for Sir William’s skeleton was a most unpleasant and degrading one.

It went out with him on the morning after his first open quarrel with Lucy, on the subject of Prissy and Jaok Munsters, Perhapß it had ruffled his temper before-hand, and made him unpleasant to his young wife. It stalked by his side as he quitted Berkeleysauare with his usual stately footsteps, and it"entered the haudsom he deposited himself in, the driver of which he commanded to take him to the beginning of Edgware road ; and it got out with him there, keeping close to him as he pushed his way through the jostling and not over civil crowd.

Sir William walked on and on, not glancing to the right nor left, until be reached a prosperous looking butcher’s shop, into which he entered. The owner of the shop looked up as he did so and gave a surly nod of recognition, but went on serving the customer on whom he was attending, without any further civility to Sir William. This customer, a delicate young woman with a baby of a few months in her arms, was trying to find a piece of meat suitable to her slender purse. ‘Can I have this for a shilling?’ she asked timidly taking up a small piece of a neck of mutton. But the butcher shook his head ; and it ended in her buying a sixpenny chop, for which she paid with a sigh, while Sir William stood with a disgusted air listening to the transaction. At last she went away, and Sir William was alone with the stout, red-faced, goodlooking man in the blue apron, with whom he had come to confer.

* I got your letter,’ he began, ‘ and it is preposterous ; I canuot go on giving such sums.’

The man of beeves regarded the baronet with an unmoved countenance during this address.

‘ I have claims,’ he said slowly, when Sir William ended.

* I am not denying your claims ; but the money you want is ridiculous. Time after time I have advanced money to you since you came to this place ; if you make nothing, its no good your staying.’ It’s the competition does it.’ remarked the butcher, with his round stolid eyes fixed on Sir William’s face. ‘ I must have money —and. I have claims.’

‘ Did I say you hadn’t ?’ answered Sir William, irately. But at this moment another customer entered the shop, aud the butcher immediately advanced to serve him, pointing a< he did so with his big gleaming knife over his shoulder.

4 Effie’s in there,’ he said, indicating a back parlour behind the shop. ‘ I’ll speak to you directly—but I must have it.’ * Humph,’ grunted Sir William, and he crossed the shop and pushed open the door of the back parlour, in which a young girl was sitting at the table painting a fan.

She glanced up as Sir William entered, and rose, but did not speak, nor did Bhe respond to the sour smile which passed over his face as he looked at her, _ nor accept his half offered hand. , * Well, Effie,’ he said, ‘ and how are you getting on ?’ ‘Oh, very well,’ she answered quietly. She was the prettiest little creature this ; a slender young girl, with a charming olivetinted face, large brown pathetic eyes, and masses of soft brown hair. Sir William was thinking how pretty she was, as he looked at her, and as he looked he sighed, * How is your aunt ?’ he asked abruptly the next minute. * Neither better nor worse —will you go upstairs to see her to-day ?’ « Not to-day. I’ve not time. So you’ra painting a fan ?’ - * Yes, I ‘get a little money for them at the shops.’ *Ah—hum —do you want some pocket money, my dear ? Here is five pounds.’ And Sir William drew a nots out of his pocket and laid it down on the table beside the girl. * Thank you,’ said Effie, without much gratitude or emotion in her voice. * And Effie,’ continued Sir William, nervously changing his ivory headed umbrella from one hand to the ot'er, • * talking about money, 1 wish yon would try to prevent your cousin Luke spending so much. It’s ruinous the way he’s going on. How does he spend it ? Does he bet ?’ * I know nothing of his affair.?,’ said Effie poolly. ‘ I suppose.he thinks he has a right to money.’ ' ‘ I have advanced him thousands, absolutely thousands,’ said Sir William angrily ; * and now he writes to say he must have five hundred pounds.’ ‘ I don’t know.’

At this moment the blue aproned man from the shop made his appearance, and Effie rose again when she saw him. ‘I had best leave yon two alone?’ she said. ‘ I have nothing to say you may not hear,’ replied Sir William. ‘ I can’t go on giving you money at this rate,’ he went on, glaring in great wrath, with his brown, blood-shot eyes at the butcher’s red face, * and I won’t !’ *lt will cost you more if you don’t,’ said the butcher coolly. He was a man of about thirty-two years of age, big and burly, with a face that would have been handsome if it had not been so round and red. And he bad a determined, dogged manner which seemed to irritate Sir William greatly. * You are an ungrateful fellow began Sir William.

‘ You had best shut up and.take care,’ interrupted the butcher. ‘ Don’t quarrel pleaEe, on account of Aunt,’

said Effie ; ‘if she hears your voices it will make her very ill.’ !_ ‘Yon had best go to her, Effie,’now remarked the bntcher, in that cool slow way of his, ‘and don’t tell her he is here,’ he added; with anything but a complimentary nod of his head in the direction of Sir William.

! Effie gave a little nod too, and left ttid back parlour, taking a small,.round black hat in her hand as she did so. She put this on her pretty head as she crossed the shop and went out of the door, going to a neigh, bouring greengrocer’s, where she bought some' spring flowers and grapes with the money Sir William had just given her. Having completed her purchases she returned to the butcher’s shop, over which in large letters appeared the name of Luke Smith. The big man with the blue apron, whom Effie had left talking to Sir William Harley, was Luke Smith, and he was Effie’s first oousiD, this young girl having been reared from her infancy by Luke’s mother. She was a beautiful girl, this Effie Dorrer, whose young Swiss mother had died at her birth ; and to her second mother, Mrs Smith, she had given all her warm young heart in return for the tenderest love and care which Mrs Smith had bestowed on her dead sister’s child.

She ran lightly up the staircase behind the shop now, carrying her flowers and fruit .as a present for her aunt, who was a great invalid. The staircase was well carpeted, and the large sitting-room over the shop which Effie entered was furnished in a solid, comfortable fashion, everything being good of its kind. L?'"'

In an easy chair by a big bright fire sat a woman, leaning back, occupying her delicate hands with some fancy knitting, who muiifc in her youth have been almost a counterpart of Effie herself. The same large, brown, trustful, liquid eyes ; the same delicate little nose, with ever so faint a curve upwards just above the nostrils; and the smooth, olivetinted skin, alike in aunt and niece, were very striking. But on the woman’s face lay the shadow of a great abiding sorrow ; and on the girl’s the freshness and beauty of her lovely dawn.

‘ You see what I have brought for you, Madame,’ she said playfully, going up to the invalid in the easy chair and kneeliug down, on the rug before her. ‘ Aren’t they sweet?’ and she held her nosegay to her aunt’is face'.

‘ You extravagant little one ! ’ replied Mrs Smith, with a slight foreign accent. ‘ Now, my Effie, you have sold your fan, aud spent the money you have earned on me—l shall scold.’ She smoothed back Effie’s brown hair, however, as she spoke, aud laid her lips on the unwrinkled brow.

‘Look, I am going to pin a button-hole in your shawl,’ said Effie, ia her bright girlish way, searching for a pin about the front of her own dress. ‘ Won’t you be smart! Cousin Rachel won’t know you when she comes.’

* But I do not like you to spend your money on me, my dear.’ - -

‘Oh ! nonsense. Aunt Therese, what time is cousin Rachel coming to-day. I want to go out for half-an-hour.’ ‘ Don’t mind Rachel, tli3n, dear ; go when it suits you.’ ‘ May I ? Well then 111 go directly ;at least in a few minutes,’ she added ; aud as 3he spoke she went to one of the windows of the room, and stood watching there. She was waiting until the visitor in the back parlor took his departure. And presently, with his head not carried, quite so high as usual, and poorer by five hundred pounds, for which he had just drawn a cheque in favor of Luke Smith, Sir William Harley was seen by Effie to leave the butcher’s shop below, and he soon disap. peared in the crowd down the street. But though Sir William had pulled himself together, and resumed his ordinary erect bearing by the t me he reached Marble Arch, his skeleton still jogged by his side, and never had this persistent companion appeared in more unpleasant and aggressive form to Sir William’s mind than at this moment.

In the meanwhile, as soon as he was quite out of sight. Effie Dorrer ran up to her own room, which was on the flat above the sitting-room, for the purpose of changing her dress to go out. A smart little maiden this, in her brown cloth suit trimmed with plush oE the same color, and her plush cape and hat all to match, when she was ready to start on her errand. I his errand ready was to take the fan that she had been finishing when Sir William interrupted her, to a certain shop at the beginning of Oxford-street, the owner of w'Jch had promised to exhibit it in the window for her.

Effie, who was not a little proud of her performance, soon reached this shop, carrying her neat parcel in tan-clad hand. She was suoh a pretty girl that many a man turned to look after the sweet* olive-tinted face under the brown plush hat. But Effie was very innocent, and very young. She walked quickly on,,and heeded no admiring glances. Then, when'she reached the shop, she found the wife of its owner. 'a rather graceful looking foreigner, talking to two tall young Englishmen who were discussing the merits of some curious beads which were for sale, and whose nationality they were disputing. As Effie went in the young men turned round, 'and naturally supposing she was another cuetomer, they moved aside to allow Madame Rica to attend to the lady. Madame Rica, however, looked at the pretty girl, smiled and nodded, but went on praising her beads. ‘We shall wait until you see what the young lady requires, Madame Rica,’ said Captain Fred Harley (for Fred was one of these young men, and Jaok Munsters the other), and already Fred had noticed the charming face of the new-comer. ‘Oh! she can wait,’ said Madame Rica, with a . little shrug and another smile. ‘ Mademoiselle Effie is not a customer ; she has a pretty taste ; she paiuta the fans—l suppose you gentlemen do not want the fans ? ’ And she gave a little laugh. ‘But I do want a fan,’ answered Jack Munsters, who also had been admiring the blushing young face’ of the pretty girl. * I want a fan for Prissy King, Fred —perhaps the young lady would be good enough— ’

« Show the gentlemen your fan, Mademoiselle Effie,’ said Madame Rica, good-' naturedly ; and as Effie, with her natural graceful little manner, unfastened the string r of her, parcel,-Fred Harley (who Svas young / And susceptible) came to the conclusion he Jjad never before seen so lovely a creature., •The fan was v.ery pretty ; white silk, and painted with a delicate touch and a refined ! taste. It was but a spray of wild roses, but there was true artistic feeling d'Bplayed in the arrangement of the simple flowers. *lt is charming,’ said Jack. * May Ibe permitted to purchase it ? ’ *1 leave that part to Madame Rica,’ answered Effie Dorrer, in such a sweetlytoned voice, and with such modest grace that Fred Harley felt he had met his fate. * Oh, you may buy ! ’ said Madame Rica, gaily. 4 lt is pretty taste, and a pretty, painter, eh? Well, 1 shall ask one pound for the fan.’ ‘ And I shall have great pleasure in paying it,’ smiled John Munsters, laying a sovereign in Madame’s supple palm. *My t little friend—the girl 1 mean it for—will be charmed, I am sure, Mademoiselle, with your work.’ ‘ And could you paint me one ? asked Fred Harley eagerly. 4 Paint me a replioa of this.’ " ' , , *J could paint a replica if you wish, answered Effie Dorrer, looking with her halftimid, half-trustful eyes in the young .Boldier’s good-lookiag face. * But would you not like something fresh ? ’ 4 1 shall leave it to your taste,’ smiled Fred ; 4 but when could you have it done?’ 4 Oh, in a day or two—shall we say next Tuesday?’ 4 Then I shall call here for it, if that will be convenient to you, next Tuesday, continued Fred. 4 What time would suit you best to meet me here ? ’ ‘Ah, but Mademoiselle can leave it in my charge,’ said Madame Rica archly, quite seeing the drift of the artful Fred, and being very much amused by it. But Fred Harley was not going to> be out-manoeuvred by Madame Rica. _ _ , ‘ I intend to Dresent this fan to my sister, he said, 4 and I may want it altered a little to suit her taste ; so, if it would not be very much trouble to Mademoiselle to meet me here ” And he looked inquiringly at Effie Dorrer’s charming face. 4 It will be no trouble,’ answered the young girl frankly. ‘ Will this time be convenient to you on Tuesday morning? ’ 4 Perfectly convenient, answered Fred Harley, bowing low. Then while Jack Munsters was paying Madame for some of the foreign beads which he had bought, Fred said a few more woids to the lovely girl who had caught his som what fickle fancy ; only words about art however, and such as both Jack and Madame Rica were quite welcome to listen to, if they had cared to do so.

The two young men then left the shop together, but the moment they were outside the door Fred Harley began expressing the most violent admiration for the young fan painter. ‘lam certain she is a lady, quite a lady,’ said Fred, enthusiastically. ‘Let us stay looking into this window, Jack, until she leaves Madame Rica's. I must see where she goes. I must know where she lives.’ 4 Is it quite fair to the girl to follow her thus, Fred?’ • What harm can there be in it ? She will never see ua; and, even if she did, what pretty girl won’t forgive the effect of her owncharms ?’

Jack laughed, and to please Fred Harley ■waited until the slender brown figure, for which Fred was eagerly watching, emerged from Madame Rica s shop and turned to the right, and walked straight on in the direction of the Marble Arch. Then Effie Dorrer wended her way from thence to Edgeware-road, and, followed at a little distance by the two friends, proceeded to a butcher’s shop over which the name of Luke Smith appeared. It was rather a shock, certainly, to Fred Harley to see her enter a butcher’s shop, but he consoled himself by thinking she was going to buy some little luxury, perhaps, for an invalid parent, with the money she had bad * made by selling her graceful handiwork.

4 Poor girl,’ said Fred, sentimentally, 4 I’ve no doubt she has some sick mother

that she spends her little earnings on. There are lots of officers’ widows, d’ye know, Jack, half-starving, I believe ; and parsons too. I bet any money that lovely girl is the daughter of some poor professional man.’ 4 Very likely,’ answered Jack, rather indifferently, for he was getting somewhat tired of the subject. Presently they passed the shop into which Effie had entered, and Fred peered eagerly in, but the slender brown figure was not to be seen. Then Fred Harley insisted upon going in himself, rather to the disgust of Jack. , .. ■■:

Fred had never been in a hatcher shop before, and as the big burly Luke Smith advanced to serve him and inquired what he wanted, Fred (to Jack’s amusement) looked hopelessly at the great flanks of beef and whole sheep and lambs. 4 I’ll take some beef,’ at last decided Fred.

‘ A sirloin, sir, or ribs ?’ inquired the butcher.

A horrid vision of a huge joint being left on his hands and not knowing what to do with it, at this moment flashed across the mind of Fred.

4 A small piece,’ he said, weakly. 4 Steak,’ suggested Jack in an undertone. by way of helping bi 3 friend out of bis dilemma.

Fred eagerly caught at this idea. ‘ Steak,’he said ; and a few minutes later he found himself the unhappy possessor of an enormous piece of raw beefsteak, which the butcher proceeded deliberately to wrap in a greasy looking newspaper, and presented it to Fred. 1 l Or shall I send it for you, sir ?’ inquired Mr Luke Smith politely, perhaps observing the shrinking horror in the fine, gentleman’s face. ‘I shall call,’ said Fred, desperately. * Put it aside and 1 shall call for it by-and-by and having paid for it ho turned to leave the shop, without having seen a glimpse of the lovely fan painter.

4 She must live here,’ whispered Jaok, a little maliciously, as they left the shop together ; 4 she is no doubt the butcher s daughter ;• I thought I saw a likeness.’ This Idea was absolutely disgusting' to Fred. Top think the delicate little face that had bewitched him belonged to a batcher’s daughter was too trying. Anything but that. 4 She may lodge at Mr Luke Smith’s,’ he presently said, hopefully ; and after this he bore Jack's chaff on the subjeot very well. And Jack did not spare him ) it became a joke between these two, the purchase of the beefsteak, and following the butcher’s lovely daughter (so Jack called her) to Edgeware road.

But after Jaok left for the north, Fred Harley did not forget the sudden and violent admiration which he had conceived for Effie Dorrer. He.used sometimes to walk up and down Edgeware road, keeping on the opposite side to Luke Smith’s shop, and one day he was rewarded by seeing the pretty girl he was looking for tending some flowers at one of the upper stories of the house. And she looked up as Fred repassed the house, and he thought she recognised him. He was certain at least that over her lovely olive-tinted skin there stole a deep blush, and this blush somehow made Fred Harley feel very happy. After this he went again and again to the uufashionable quarter, and gazed up at the muslin shaded windows above the butcher’s shop. And sometimes he fancied he saw a slender shadow behind the curtains. Perhaps shs, to©, was watching for him, thongh she was too shy to appear, the young man ardently thought. At all events it gave a fresh interest and excitement to his life ; and he looked eagerly forward to the day when he was to keep hia appointment and again meet Effie at Madame Rica’s. (To be continued )