TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 889, 15 March 1889, Page 8

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] JEZEBEL’S FRIENDS. A NOVEL BY DORA RUSSEL. Author of * Footprints in the Snow/ ‘The Broken Seal/ ‘The Track op the Storm/ &0., &c. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapters X. and ll.—Ruth Forth, the second daughter of Colonel Forth, a retired officer, is seen at night time hurrying down a steep incline to the sea from the little town of Headfort. She carries with her a curious looking parcel, a box, covered with a cloak. In the darkness, lit up occasionally with flashes of lightning, she digs a hole with a small spade she carries, buries the box, and covering it up, leaves it hurriedly. She then leaves and hastent> home, but not before she is noticed by a male observer, who wonders at her presence, and declares he will be at the bottom of her escapade. Arriving home, she reaches her room, and is met by her elder sister Frances, who is deeply interested in the success of her mission. Alarmed and exhausted with her work, she discovers that she has left behind her the spade. Next day Colonel Forth is visited by Lieutenant Seaforth, who is in love with Ruth, The party are engaged to visit, the following day, Colonel Kenyon’s. Chapters 111 ant> IV.—The sisfceis Francos and Ruth Forth visit Colonel Kenyon’s, accompanied by Mr Seaforth and Major Audley, and enjoy a brilliaut garden party. Frances, a coquette, encourages the attentions of their host and also of Arthur Beaton, a young soldier who has recently joined the army. Ruth, on the other hand, remains fond ’and true to Seaforth, much to the chagrin of Audley, who vows he will soon stop all this.

CHAPTER V. Going Home. Colonel Forth had not enjoyed himself much during the afternoon at Sudley ; but this was only a common case, as he rarely found pleasure in anything. Still, he considered he had strong reasons for his dissatis. faction at Colonel Kenyon’s garden party. Be was no fool, and (he saw very well that his old friend greatly admired his handsome daughter. And if there was one of his own sex that he had any regard for, it was certainly Kenyon. This genial, large-minded man had touched some almost forgotten chord in his sour heart. Perhaps it was the memory of a moment when death—a sudden violent death —had stared him in the face and a brave, gallant, slender young Lancer had ridden forward, with a total disregard to his own safety, and saved him from hit dark foes. The two men rarely spoke of this moment, but .it was doubtless a bond between them, and to tbi3 bond in Colonel Forth’s mind was added the very natural one that Colonel Kenyon was rich, very rich, at least as compared with himself, and that he held a good position and lived in a good house.

‘ And yet that fool of a girl is going to throw all this away, I believe/ thought Forth, regarding with gloomy eyes his daughter Frances sitting smiling under the tree with young Beaton lying at her feet. * It’s really disgusting, a boy like that/ went on bis mental cogitations. * 111 go and have a drink. It’s enough to sicken one.’ He went and had his ‘ drink/ which consisted of a brandy and soda, to which he was partial, and he spoke to one or two men that he knew, and then he went out on the lawn again, and to his increasing disgust, Frances was still talking to Beaton. He shot an angry glance at her ficm under his shaggy light brows, but Frances, coquetting beneath her white, pink-lined sunshade, never looked at her irate sire. ‘l’ll have another drink/- thought the colonel, and he had one, but it did not make him feel happy. His temper was, indeed, apt to get sourer, and his tongue more bitter, after his frequent brandy and sodas, and today was no exception to this. But his second ‘drink had made him more valiant.

‘ I’ll go up and speak to her/ he thought ; for, in spite of all his bluster, he was a little, just a little, afraid of his splendid Frances. And he did go up and speak to her, and Franoes knew very well why he went. But she loved pleasure better than prudence, though all the same she meant to do what her father so ardently wished. She was only amusing herself with the handsome passionate boy lying on the grass, but Bhe liked looking into his grey eyes, and reading there the story of his romantic ardent love. • Won’t you come and have some refreshment, Frances ?’ asked the colonel, as he approachod his daughter. *Do you mean with you ?’ answered Frances, smiling and showing her white teeth.

‘ Yes, why not ? Qome along/ But Frances did not stir. ‘To walk about with one’s father, or brother, always looks as if oue could get no one else/ she said, still smiling. ‘I do not think I have quite come to that ; I dare Bay Mr Beaton would not object to take me to have some tea ?’

‘Of course not/ said Mr Beaten starting to his feet, ‘I shall be too proud, too happy.’ Then Frances rose, and laid her hand lightly on young Beaton’s arm, and the two moved away from beneath the flickering shadows of the high tree, and the colonel’s savage reddish-tinted eyes followed them. ‘ She’s an utter fool/ he thought again, angrily ; * and in Kenyon's very face.’ But Colonel Kenyon was not in the least disturbed by seeing Frances Forth with Mr Beaton, He regarded the young lieutenant as a mere boy, and was pleased to think that Frances was not talking to any of the older men, all of whom he thought would have been delighted if she had done so. And while Frances was sipping her tea in tho pavilion he went up and joined her. ‘ I’ve come for a little breathing time/ he said, with a tender look in his gentle, thoughtful eyes ; * it’s very hard work to be on duty all day/ ‘ But you, make such a splendid host/ answered Frances. He Bhook bis head.

* I try tc make up in earnestness for want of grace/ he said pleasantly ; * I want to see my friends enjoy themselves, but I don’t know the way, somehow ; no man is really good at that kind of thing.’ ‘l’m sure you are/ ‘No ; we want tact. I believe that is the woid. We introduce the wrong people to each other, and go floundering about in an awkward and helpless manner among the small social distinctions and secrets of which Society is composed. It’s a sort of treadmill to a man to entertain a big party, while to a woman it’s the easiest thing in the world.’ ‘ Colonel Kenyon as he appears on the treadmill/ laughed Frances ; really you look veiy well while undergoing such torture.’ Colonel Kenyon laughed heartily at this—a genial, pleasant laugh, good to hear. He stood there talking to Frances, and her father, who had followed her to the pavilion by way of keeping his parental eye on her, saw this, and the grim look on his red face somewhat relaxed. Presently he went up to them, and Colonel Kenyon smiled when he saw his old friend.

• Well, Forth, I hope you have been taking care of yourself Y he said. * All right, my dear fellow j can’t help very well taking care of oneself in your house, where so many good things abound/ replied Forth, bent on making himself agreeable. ‘ I’ve been grumbling to Miss Forth here, and telling her a man can't manage a party.’ The grim look for a moment again came over Colonel Forth’s face as he listened to these words, and had Kenyon been supposed to be paying attention to any other man’s daughter but his own he would have raised his voice in bitter warning, and have assured Kenyon that he could entertain his friends a. great deal better alone than if he had a woman to help him. But under tho present circumstances he was not so indiscreet.

‘ Well, I suppose a woman is a kind of ornament/ he said, as if half unwillingly. ‘Of course, a woman is a kind of ornament !’ cried Frances. ‘ Now, would not. the world be very stupid without us, Colonel Kenyon ?’ ‘lt would not be worth living in,’ he answered.

• I don’t know that it is worthy living in with ’em/ growled Colonel Forth ; which speech especially seemed to delight Frances, who laughed aloud. ‘You hear, Colonel Kenyon,’ she said gaily. * I hear, but I don’t believe ; my good friend here/ and he laid hi 3 hand in kindly fashion on Colonel Forth’s shoulder. * is, we all know, a professional grumbler ; he says a great deal more than ho thinks.’ At this moment Major Audley approached the little group, and addressed Frances somewhat abruptly. ‘lt’s close on seven, Miss Forth/ he said, glancing at his watch, ‘ at what time would you like me to order the trap ? ’ ‘ At no time for Miss Forth,, said Colonel Kenyon smiling, ‘ the young ladies are going to dine here, and I shall see them safely home.’

‘ Ah, I did not know/ answered Audley,

‘ then vou don’t require my services ? And again he looked at Frances. ‘ Colonel Kenyon is good enough to say ho will send us back in one of his carriages ; but many thanks all the same for offering to take us,’ said Frances. ‘The loss is, of course, mine/ replied Audley, with just a touch of satire in the tone of his voice, „ , ~ c , * And did you find Ruth and Mr feeaforth ? ’ asked Frances pleasantly, though her quick ears had detected that slight intonation. ‘ I saw them at a distance, ana an evil look crept over Major Audley’s face as he spoke. The next instant, however, he turned courteously to his host. « As I cannot be of any further use to Miss Forth/ he said, ‘ I think, Colonel Kenyon it is time I was taking my leave, and he offered his hand. ‘Thanks for a charming afternoon/ , Then he shook hands with Frances and Colonel Forth, and as he moved away Colonel Kenyon looked after him. ‘ I don't know how it is, but I don t quite like that fellow/ he said. ‘ I detest him ! ’ replied Frances, emphatica a cool kind of overbearing fellow, I think/ remarked Colonel Forth. ‘I have an instinctive horror of him, somehow/ said Frances. ‘ But what harm can he do you ? asked Colonel Kenyon, and again that tender look crept into his eyes as they rested on her lovely face. But his other guests now gathered round him, and parting compliments were showered on him bv many pretty lips. ‘ Your party has been quite charming, said Lady Hastings, who really was feeling very much annoyed at Major Audley’a want of attention. ‘ Quite a success ; so sorry to go/ declared her fat little lord, who just before had urgently half-whispered in her ear, ‘ Do let us get out of this, I’m sick of it.’ As Colonel Kenyon was listening to these things, and shaking hands all round, young Arthur Beaton had time to say a few wordß to Frances Forth. * I suppose I ought to go now ? he said. «I do not see any hurry about it, she answered. ‘ Tell me before I do, when shall I see you again.’ Frances hesitated ; she wished to marry Colonel Kenyon, but she also wished to make the handsome young soldier her slave. ‘ I shall be walking down Hiuh-street tomorrow morning about twelve o’clock, perhaps,’ she said ia a low tone. ‘ I shall be there ; and let ’l3 go down to the bay.’ A deeper pink shade stole over Frances Forth's delicate complexion. _ * No, I hate the sea ; we can go into the fields—but I am nob sure that I can manage lfc *‘l shall be there to see. at all events.’ And one moment he clasped her hand tightly, one moment looked at her, and then lelt the pavilion, feeling that for him * there was but one beloved face on earth.’ < jje is a nice boy/ Frances said a tew minutes later to Colonel Kenyon, and during the rest of the evening she devoted herself to her father’s friend. But, all tho same, the personal beauty of the ‘ nice boy ’ was not forgotten; those dark grey eyes of his haunted her, even when slie was smiling sweetly on the master of Sudley. But no one could tell this as she sat by Colonel Kenyon, looking her very handsomest-, and making the grey-haired man by her side feel for her all the ardour and devotion of his lost youth. During that lost youth he had been engaged to a pretty girl who had died of consumption, and for years he had remained constant to her memory, it had grown to be but a faint, indistincj memory, however, long before he met Frances Forth. But he Had got out of the way of thinking of love and marriage, and during his aotive and successful life had found no other ties. Ho hated to hear men speak diarespectfully of women, for when they did so ho remembered his mother’s face the sweet flower that had faded ere her prime He had not seen Frances Forth until a few months ago, when Colonel Forth bad settled at Headfort, and he had gone to call on his friend at the little house in the garden, which he had helped him to choose. He had never forgotten that afternoon, nor the beautiful woman who rose with such stately grace to receive him, and thankea him so sweetly for having saved her father s life. To say that a man at his age fell in love at first sight, and a sensible man too, would seem absurd. Nevertheless, Hugh Kenyon began to understand from that day something of that mysterious passion which makes another (for the time, at least) take the first place in the moat selfish heart. His heart was not selfish, and there were many aims, thoughts, and feelings in it which were not connected with himself at all, but which were now fated to be over-shadowed by one image, which seemed to fill it all. If he liked a book he would wonder if she would care to read it ; if he bought a horse if she should like to ride it. He was always thinking of her, in fact, and his friendship for Colonel Forth suddenly grew and flourished, to Colonel Forth’s great benefit. . , He had given this garden party for her sake, just as he had given many parties dur. ing the laßt few months. His eyes were always hungering for her presence, and no sooner was one meeting over than he was planning the next. Of course, neither Colonel Forth, Frances, nor Ruth were blind to this infatuation. The two sisters had talked of it, and Ruth earnestly hoped it would end in a safe and happy home for one gifted far beyond the common lot with the sweetest and most fascinating of all giftsFor the charm of personal loveliness, say what we may, Is one that makes a young file happier and brighter than any other. It wins friends so easily, and the fair face makes us unconsciously believe in the fair soul. It makes its possessor forget its fleeting tenure; forget the hard_ and _oruel wrongs it may inflict by idly indulging in vanity or pride. A handsome man or woman can always gain many hearts, and oiten only laugh at their victims. From her earliest

girlhood Franoes Forth had sought admiration and love, and had given very little in return.

And now she had decided to marry an honourable, high-minded gentleman, though she absolutely cared nothing for him, but for what he oould give her. *He is gentlemanly, and not bad-looking,’ she said to Ruth,’ but Ruth told her he was far more. * He is a uoble character, and if you marry him Frances, you must be very good to him.’

Franoes laughed and shrugged her shoulders. It was a trick of hers to shrug her Bhoulders when she meant to express what she did not oare to say. For she believed not in men nor women, and put down all aims and motives as low as her own.

‘ When you have seen as much of the world as I have,’ she told Ruth, ‘ you will know that are only two great moving powers in it—money and beauty. All the rest hang on these, and a sort of bargain is always going on between them.’ ‘ And you don’t believe in—love, then ? ’ asked the younger sister, with one of her quick blushes. ‘Cf course I believe in it; I have good cause—but we love people for their good looks, for their beauty if you like-uot because they are this and the other that you say Colonel Kenyon is/ ‘ I believe he is a good man/ Again Franoes laughed. ‘1 hope he won’t expect me to follow his example, then/ she said , and she always spoke of him thus, though Ruth believed that she did so only out of the hidden bitterness in her heart.

But when, an hour after all the other guests were gone, on the evening of the gar. den party, five people were seated round Colonel Kenyon’s hospitable board (each thinking their own thoughts, and sometimes seeking to hide these thoughts as we all do with our tongues) it would have taken a very keen observer to discover that Frances Forth was absolutely indifferent to Colonel Kenyon. Almost any man, if her subtle flatteries had been addressed to himself, would have believed he was a great deal to her. And Colonel Kenyon did believe this, and it filled his heart with deep, deep joy. It made life no longer a thing to be bravely borne, and our cross carried stoutly, and hidden as well as our poor human strength avails us ; it made it as if some angel’s hand had suddenly swept away for him all the blaok stains of eaith, and left nothing but beauty, tenderness, and love. A glow crept into his face, and a new light into his always kindly but sometimes saddened eyes. And Frances Forth taw this and knew that her hour of triumph was nearly come. She looked round the stately room ; at the massive silver on the table and sideboard; at the grey.haired butler, and the hundred signs of wealth and long descent, and she smiled. ‘ ’Tis not so bad after all/ she was thinking ; I won’t make a fool of myself this time/

And the gallant gentleman, the brave soldier who had saved her father’s life, smiled too.

‘ I have something at least to offer my darling/ he was thinking ; ‘and I thank God that it is so, and that I am no longer a poor man.’ While these two were regarding each other with such satisfaction let us look into the hearts of the younger pair, whose love was in its spring-time, and who had just learned from each other’s lips the sweet knowledge of hope fulfilled. When Ruth and Seaforth had tardily made their appearance in tho pavilion, as Colonel Kenyon was parting with his few remaining guests, tho Colo Del good-naturedly invited Seaforth to stay to dinner, partly because he liked this young man’s honest, pleasant face, and partly because he thought he would amuse Ruth Forth, and thus leave him more time to devote himself to Frances. And Seaforth gladly remained. He wanted to stay beside his fair young love as long as possible, and he wanted to drive her home. This had been a promise between them, and both were looking forward to it. Therefore Seaforth made the fifth at Colonel Kenyon’s dinner-table, and felt very nearly as happy as the Colonel himself. True, he had not very much to offer Ruth, and he had his father to consult. But the dear little girl loved him, and no one should ever part them, he had decided. He was a fine young fellow this, something like what Colonel Kenyon himself had been twenty-five years ago. Seaforth was not one to scoff and gibe at everything; he had, though he rarely expressed it, * trust in all things high.’ He was very fond of his mother, and was her only surviving child. Perhaps her long loving letters, her earnest prayers, had helped him to give a higher standard to his character than most young men of his age attain. He was fond of reading, and altogether lived a creditable life. And he was moreover a great favourite in his regiment, which always tells its own tale. Ten to one if a man is unpopular he deserves to be so, for truth creeps strangely out, and we cannot go on acting all the day.

* I am a little bib proud of my boy/ General Seaforth used sometimes to say to an,old comrade, for he knew his son to bobrave, straightforward, honourable, and true. Thus Ruth Forth had good cause to be proud of the heart Bhe had won, and in tho first flush of acknowledged love, ought also to have been very happy. But though she was happy, there was a shadow lying athwart it. More than onoe she looked at her brilliant sister’s face, and marvelled. Frances looked as though she had not a care in the world, and as if trouble had never approached her. Even her sour father during dinner glanced at her with satisfaction, and began to hope that he would soon sit at his son-in-law’s table.

When the two girls went back into the drawing-room, the first thing that. Frances did was to look at herself critically in one of the mirrors.

*1 don’t look bad/ she said, ‘and so Colonel Kenyon seems to think.’ And she gave a little laugh. ‘I am sure he is very fond of you, answered Ruth, seriously. * And I am very fond of his house, and all its etceteras ; but I shall have this room refurnished if I have the honour of living here ; it’s decidedly old-fashioned.’ ‘ I rather like the old world look about it, and all the beautiful old china. '

‘ Oh, the china is very well, I like that; but the colour of tho satin is hideous.

Yet a few minutes later, when the gentlemen joined them, Frances had her word.of praise for this very room. ‘lt looks as if a refined woman had always lived in it/ she told Colonel Kenyon, and he listened well pleased. * Let me show you my mother/ he said, and lei Frances into the inner drawing-room and stood before the portrait of a sweetfaced, gentle-looking woman with dark eyes like his. ‘ She is very handsome ; yon are very like her/ murmured Frances. * I am like her without being handsome then/ he answered, smiling ; * I remember her so well, ana the last time I saw her before I wens out to India.’ * And she was very fond of you, of course ? ’ ‘ She had the common delusion of mothers, I believe—- * When yet was ever found a mother, Who’d give her booby for another ? ' * Oh ! Colonel Kenyon ! ’ ‘ It’s quite true, you know, and it’s a very good thing ; I believe a mother’s love has stopped many a man on a downward course/

Frances did not know exactly what to say ; she was not given to the love of children, and had no incipient maternal instincts ; she therefore began admiring something else, and was pleased when, her father proposed that it was time to order the carriage, for she felt she had had quite enough of Colo Del Keuyon for one day. And she would not allow him to accompany them back to Headfort, which the Colonel gallantly offered to do. ‘ No, indeed ! ’ she said, brightly, * after all your hard work, being on the treadmill, etcetera, I am not going to permit you to do anything of the sort; my good father here is quite capable of taking care of us.’ . . ‘ But I am to have the honour of taking oare of Miss Ruth/ said Kenard Seaforth, with a sudden blush which seemed to reflect itself on Ruth’s fair cheeks. ‘ Oh, indeed ! ’ exclaimed Colonel Kenyon, smiling. ‘ I do not know whether I can allow that/ said Frances, playfully. ‘ Rubbish,' growled Colonel Forth ; ‘if Ruth likes to drive home with Seaforth, what harm is there in that ? ’ So it was settled ; one of Colonel Kenyon’s carriages was ordered round, and Seaforth’s dogcart, and Frances and her father agreed to go in the carriage, and Ruth with Sea. forth. It was a fine moonlight night, and Ruth never forgot that drive down the avenue with the glinting beams falling through the bows and lighting them on their way. Then they entered the country lanes, on either side of which the night winds rustled through the green, heavy, uncut corn, or wafted the scent of the new-mown hay. And these two —the young man and maiden —to whom had come the sweetest of all bliss ; the time when the touch of the beloved hand is joy enough; when love ‘given or returned/flings over life a new, soft light, and bathes all things around in its own beauty. To these two, then, the moonbeams and the stirrings of the wind were fife surroundings. Yet, had tho heavens been black, and the Storm King warring in his wrath, their hearts had still been full of warmth and joy. They were near each other, and they asked no more ; he was happy because Ruth’s arm rested against his, and he could hold unseen the tender little hand.

And while they were thinking of each other, a little ahead in front of them Colonel Forth and Frances were each thinking of themselves. At least, Colonel Forth was thinking, as long as he kept awake, what a good thing it was that he hoped now to get

Frances off his hands at laßt, and that_ it would be most convenient to have a rich son-in-law. Then his thoughts merged into dreams and snores, and as her father indulged in prolonged nasal manifestations of slumber, Frances was reflecting on many things, all, however, connected with the well-being and success of one person. * I suppose it will be settled to-morrow,’ she mentally decided, for as Colonsl Kenyon had clasped her hand in parting ho had made a request. ‘lf I call to-morrow about four o’clock, will you see mo ? ’ he had asked her. And Frances had answered ‘Yes.’ CHAPTER VI. An Unwise Choice. ‘And you are actually engaged to him ? ’ ‘Yes ; actually.’ . '• Then I think you have don 9 a very good thing for yourself, Ruth ; you have managed very cle/erly. •Oh ! don’t talk that way, Frances.’ This conversation took place between the two sisters early on the morning following Colonel Kenyon’s garden party. Frances was still in bed, and Ruth had carried up her breakfast, and naturally told her the happy news. For she loved Kenard Seaforth, and had been lying awake half the night thinking of her great joy. « f will try to make him so happy, she thought, tenderly ; * 1 know I ought not to marry him, but I can t help, it, and he will never know, thank God, he will never know.’

Yet once or twice an uneasy memory crossed her mind. What had Major Audley meant when he had said he had kept a secret for her, aud Ruth’s face flushed at the very thought. But no, no, he could not know, she decided the next moment. And Frances would be pleased, and to please her beautiful sister had been one of Ruth’s most earnest wishes ever since she was a little girl. So with a sweet blush and smile she told Frances that Mr Seaforth had asked her to be his wife, and Frances was very glad. * I shall have to exert myself,’ she said, gaily, ‘or you will be actually getting married before me.

* Then, Ruth explained, Kenard had of conrse to get his father’s consent before they oould think of marrying, and therefore they had agreed not to tell anyone but Frances until he had written to his parents. * He will write to-day, and then I hope it will be all settled,’ said Ruth, modestly. * And you are quite in love, I believe,’ ssid Frances, with a laugh. * I think anyone would care for him. He is of course far too good for me—l don’t know what he sees in me, I am sure,’ answered Ruth, going to the mirror and pensively looking at herself. ‘ Come, Miss Modesty, that won’t do. He cares for you because you are a pretty girl, and rather far gone on his yeuDg lordship, I believe. You have flattored his vanity, my dear, by snubbing Audley, and sitting in an adoring attitude to him.’ ‘ Indeed, Frances, I have not sat in an adoring attitude. That is very unjust,’ said Ruth, quickly, and with so much feeling that for a moment her eyes looked as if they were going to fill with tears. * All right, my dear; at all events, yon have succeeded somehow in getting what yon wanted, and I only wish I had your luck. And General Seaforth is a man who holds a very good position, and Seaforth is an only son, isn’t he, so he mußt be pretty well off?’

• I don’t care in the least whether he is or not.’

* Oh, don’t you indeed ; wait till you wake out of lcve’s young dream, and you’ll see whether you care or not ! Money is an essential of happiness ; in fact, you can’t be happy without it.’ * I could be happy with very little.’ ‘ With the adored one, of course,’ mocked Franoes ; ‘ you think so now, my dear, because you are in love ; because you have had no experience of the adored one’s little tempers ; because you have never heard him grumbling about his dinners, or throwing his boots at his servants’ head, or may be yours. When you have had these experiences you will know what money means.

‘ You will make me angry presently if you talk like that.’

1 Well, as Seaforth won’t be badly off, its a pity perhaps to undeceive you, and wake you out of your pretty dreams ; yon are as romantic, I declare, as that handsome boy, Arthur Beaton!’

‘ I hope you are not going to have anything more to say to the handsome boy.’ * Oh I I quite understand what is expected of me,' said Frances, with one of her usual little shrugs. ‘ Yes, but just think what Colo Del Kenyon is! A man any woman could be proud of.’ * Precisely; and old enough to be my father ; but my dear, I am making no objections.’

‘ And he is coming to-day, is he not ?’ asked Ruth in a low tone.

‘ Yes, unless he changes his mind.’ *He won’t do that—and Frances—l hope you will be happy at last.’ And Ruth tenderly kissed her sister’s cheek.

Then she left her, after making Frances promise not to tell their father of her engagement to Mr Seaforth.

* We don’t want it known until everything is settled,’ she said, and Frances agreed ; and after Ruth was gone, she i se and dressed herself, aud as the morning was fine, felt strongly tempted to carry out the halfappointment that she had made with Mr Boaton the day before.

‘I suppose it’s a foolish thing to do,’ she reflected ; ‘ but the poor boy will be so disappointed, and there can be no harm in walking down the street at twelve o’clock in the day, surely.’ And presently she put on her hat and strolled out into the fresh, bright air. Headfort might be a dull place, but it was no doubt a very healthful one. The sea-waves that lapped round it, brought with them roses to the cheeks of the young, aud even to the aged. The broad centre street this morning was filled with sunshine, and (for Headfort) looked absolutely gay. There were nursery-maids with pretty children, two or three girls dressed in light prints and big hat 3, a stout matron here and there, bustling out and in the various shop 3, and a soldier was occasionally to be seen. Everyone in the place knew Francis Forth by sight. Her beauty and her father’s position had at once made her remarkable ; and people looked after her now as she walked on with erect head and stately step. About the middle of High-street, partly to her amusement and partly to her annoyance, she encountered Ruth, who was housekeeping.

• Frances, you out ?’ said the younger sister, in astonishment. ‘ I am looking for a rose to wear this afternoon to faseinate my elderly Bwain,’ answered Frances with a little laugh, for she did not choose to tell her sister her real reason.

At this moment, however, young Beaton, in undress uniform, came hurrying up the street, and took off his cap to the sisters. ‘I could not get away before,’ he began, but a warning look from Frances stopped him.

‘ We are out bargaining,’she said the next moment in her lively way ; • trying to beat down peas and potatoes a penny a pound or so, which is one of the delightful occupations of the poor, Mr Beaton !’ ‘I do not think it matters in the least whether one is rich or poor,’ answered the young man with his admiring eyes fixed on her face.

4 Oh, yes, it does though ; if you are rich, you can please yourself ; but if you are poor you are forced to bow to circumstances.'' ‘ Frances, we have to go in here,’ now said Ruth gravely, stopping before one of the shops; ‘so we must bid Mr Beaton good morning.’ ‘Unless Mr Beaton is interested in the price of sugar,’ smiled Frances. ‘ I’ll wait outside,’ said Beaton.

But even Frances saw the imprudence of this under the circumstances, and in a little gossiping place like Headfort. ‘Bettor not,’ she said in a low tono holding out her hand. ‘Good-bye for the present, I shall write and she followed her sister into the grocer’s shop, and with a restless, dissatisfied heart the young soldier was obliged to go.

But had lie deen FtauCes Forth later in the day these vague feelings would have bfcieh chahged to dark lind bitter passion and despair. For just at four o’clock Colonel Kenyon arrived at the small house in the garden where his old friend lived, and was received by Francos alone, sitting in the little, tasteful drawing-room, who rose with a blush and a smile that might have moved the heart of many a colder man. ‘ How are you after yesterdajr ?’ he said with some agitation; as he took her hand ; 4 but I need not ask.' 4 And you ?’ said Frances; ‘ Oh, I’m all right. And so yoil would not lot me see you home last night ?’ ‘I am not quite so selfish, Colonel Kenyon.’ ‘ But Frances ’ —he was still holding her hand— ‘ would you have been glad to have been with me ? I came to-day to ask you this : would it have made you happy as it would have made me ?’ Frances gave a little fluttering sigh, and her bosom rose and fell. 4 1 1 am always happy with you,’ she faltered. ‘ Ai-e you really—really ?’ The man's face was radiant and his eyes full of tender passion and hope. * Would you be content to be always with me, then —to be the pride, the joy of my life?’ Again the white-robed form stirred. 4 Will you tell me,’ ke went on, 4 remember I am older than yon—far older, {but then 1 feel young ; it makes me young to look at you.’ 4 But you look quite young,’ said Frances’ soft voice, and for a moment she raised her beautiful eyaa to his, ‘Do you really think so ? I care nothing about what other people think, but I should like to look well to you. Frances, will you bo my wife -the darling of my home ?’ She drew a long breath ; she turned a little pale, and then her lips parted. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘for—you are very dear to me.’ (To be continued.)