Fiction.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1165, 29 June 1894, Page 8

Fiction.

HER FATHER'S IDOL.

By MRS BASELEY (" Mionon ").

(copyright.) CHAPTER XXlV.—(Continued). Weeks passed on. Dagmar was incessantly busy j always out of doors. If not engaged on her daily avocation her time was spent endeavouring to trace Mark or Jacobi. She never faltered. She knew she must bo rewarded in her search sooner or later. As to Olga—she got no clue to her, living or dead. She had but one to search on, that grave which she had wept over, but which Mark had admitted was a relation of Jacobi's, and to it she never went. Mark was her hope. She would make him divulge everything or expose him to ruin through Nelly. This knowledge made her outwardly patient. Still no Mark turned up at his clubs or elsewhere. Nelly left to her own devices fretted herself to fiddlestrings. Her forget-me-not blue eyes grew larger and more wistful, her face sharper and more oval. Had theie been no father's death even to mourn, her life would havo been unhappy. There were no revengeful sentiments harboured in her breast against Mark. She disliked him intently, but relieved to be clear of him, her sole hope was never to be any way in his power again. She was ready to help Dagmar to recover Olga by speaking out if Olga were still alive. But it distressed her not only to be partially living on her, but also to have no hope nor aim in the future. Langley's money, which he had lent her, was fast dwindling. For though she paid no lodgings she insisted on providing the little food she ate. It was slipping—slipping through her grasp, and where was she to look for more when it was ended ? even without the troubled thought as to how Langley must be repaid. Her life was indeed one long chapter of trouble. Unknown to Dagmar, she ventured out and applied for work—sewing— even menial occupation. Her refined appearance, her delicate face, told irrevocably against her in the last search. Sewing there were far too many applicants for. She entered her name in two registry offices for nursery governess or lady's maid's place. Not that she felt competent for either, but she was forced to try for something. Competent or incompetent, it was all alike; she could find nothing. Frequently she begged Dagmar to let her share her work.

Dagmar's answer was always the same—mysterious—resolute. ". She knew not what she asked j better be dead by far than enter into her line." " Well, then, I must look out for myself," declared Nelly. "I am not the trusting, helpless creature of fifteen months ago." One day Dagmar was at home idle. She was alone, too, save for the working of her active brain. "Would that I could come across Mark Boyd," she exclaimed, through her hissing teeth. "It is only a matter of time. Won't I crush him when we meet!"

At that very moment, as she clenched her hands vindictively, as if with a longing to put her threat into action, he appeared before her. Smiling, not a whit altered, well dressed, free from dread or fear, he entered. He might only have left her an hour previously. She jumped up, speaking excitedly in French, German, or Italian, as the mood took her.

"Loose your hands!" he said sulkily, "*and interpret the meaning of all this senseless tirade. A pretty hunt you've given me. Next time you change your rooms leave word where you are going." It was so unexpected a turning of the tables that she simply stood and stared at him.

" You looking for me I" she exclaimed at last, when voice and speech returned; " none of your—that will do! You rat! I've been ferretting all your old haunts out, and you were nowhere to be found. But I'll have justice of you as I'm a breathing, revengful woman. Nelly and I together will " She paused. In her intense excitement she had let a fact escape her that she had intended keeping hidden. Perhaps he had not noticed. Trust him!

" Nelly and you V he exclaimed, and almost beside himself with agitation; "what do you mean? Is it possible she— r

Dagmar was taking a hurried survey of her surroundings. Traces of Nelly's existence lay all about. She might appear at any moment. Of what use to deny a thing that on slightest investigation was so self-evident.

" Well, and what if I have betrayed that your medical friend revived her ?" " Good heavens! where is she ?" broke in Mark. * Not at her father's ?' " Her father was dead before she could get there. She is living with me, but out."

"Disguised, surely?" queried Mark, hastily. " Poof! disguised !" retorted Dagmar, scornfully; " why should she be ? There is no one but you who would harm her; and my directions to her are if she meets you at any time to just hand you over to the police till I can get to you." He laughed in amusement. " Thanks, awfully!" he said; " but lam not afraid of—of Mrs Barry. Next time you get an aide-de-camp don't go to the lunatic asylum and i>rocure a half-witted dolt!"

"She is as sensible as you are, and so you will see before you've done. Sit down, Mark Boyd, you are not going to escape my clutches again!" "So you and —umph, Mrs Barry, live together," observed Mark, coolly obeying her behests—ha—then her exceeding good-

nes3 and purity has lost its influence; does not entirely crush your subtlety and craft, eh ?" Dainnar fidgeted and broke out into loud abuse. "But why all this vituperation?" ho demanded, with an innocent air. " You and I are frionds, Dagmar, inalienable friends." " Never!" she cried. " I " " Net if I can produce Jacobi, who will tell you where Olga is ?" The effect of his words was electrical. " Tell me, tell me! Will you, can you do that ?" " I think I can; now pleaso don't hug mo in that truly foreign cmpresseiiicnt ; it spoils my collars and riles me generally. Hands off and I will tell you, Dagmar, what I can about your sister." "Go on, go on!" she shrieked, as he paused. "Tho night Jacobi dug the grave for Mrs Barry," he proceeded, airily, "he and I happened to mention Olga's name. I told him how unfortunate was her death to me, and I also demanded what he meant by telling you she lived —drawing down all your hot animus on me. He then confessed that she did still live, that ho had her address, and " "Where, where itf it?" asked Dagmar, almost beside herself with emotion and excitement.

"Ho could not remember, or so he said. Fact was, and it leaked out, she paid him to keep it a secret. Paid him bettor than I did, do you see, hence his deception and imposition on me. But now, Dagmar, your interest and mine are one. Let us shake hands. You want to find her—so do I. She is my lawful wife, and I love her. It's good news to me that sho is alive, I assure you. What aro you staring at? Confound you, don't you believe me now ?" Dagmar's brain had been busy revolving the news. There was a strange glitter in her eyes. "I'll not shake hands with you, Mark Boyd," she said, "until I have seen Jacobi and found how much I may believe you." " I tell you, I'm dying to see my wife !" " If s funny sort of dying that will leave you in uncertainty for five weeks, when by going to Jacobi you could have got her address directly you left Hendon. No, no, Mark Boyd, you don't impose on me. My poor Olga may be living. Please le bon Dieu, she is, but I'll join none of your searches for her. If sho is still alive she is .evidently hiding from you for some reason. I must think—think. First bring me Jacobi here. I shall know my surroundings then!" Mark swore.

" Do you think, you suspicious Nihilist!" he cried, in passion, " that I should have come to you unless every other resource had failed me. Not I. Directly I discovered my Olga lived, I used every available effort to trace her. Do you suppose my desire is to bring you and her together ? Not it. I would far rather keep you as apart as tho Poles. But I can't find her. Jacobi, drunken wretch, has either lost the paper, or swears he has. I believe it is true, because I have offered him more than she could pay to give it up. I " " Ach! I see," exclaimed Dagmar, her eyes softer and more luminous with emotion than it was their wont to be. "My beloved Olga lives. I will move heaven and earth, but I'll find her !"

She believed Mark in his passion and rudeness far more than in his sneering politeness. She saw that his one great desire was to trace Olga. Less clear to her was his motive. Why had they ever parted ? There was a veil of mystery in the whole case that she could not unravel. Sufficient for her was it to know that her darling lived —the only being she had ever loved.

Mark's anxiety to be aided in his discovery made her resolve to be on her guard against helping him. " I knew you would exert yourself for her recovery," said Mark. " I'll bring you Jacobi to-night. Meanwhile, I should like to see Resurrection Nelly!" " If you had the faintest spark of manliness left in you, you would run miles the other way!" declared Dagmar, angrily. " You can go, Mark Boyd!" "But I sha'n't!" he retorted. "Itpleases me to annoy people. There is a good smell of dinner, and I can help you eat it. After that I'll go for Jacobi. The difficulty is to find him sober. • For some reason best known to himself he tries to avoid me when conscious." " You can leave mo to discover Jacobi!" "What!" he exclaimed, fiercely, "you refuse my help!" " Your help and you together, now that I find you are as ignorant as myself." " But you'll tell me; good, clever Dagmar, when I "

" I'll make no promises. There, now go. But where can Nelly be ?" The day passed on, but brought no elucidation. No Nelly returned. It was not till night that Dagmar grew seriously uneasy. At first Mark laughed, and said—- " Lost again; a second admirer has run off with her."

"How if she has returned to Slackaby," suggested Dagmar. The idea was mostunpalatable to him. Finally he grew so uneasy that he left. The next morning he was back early. No Nelly still; no letter nor sign from her. Then he was convinced that the worst had happened, i.e., that she had gone to Slackaby, and he prepared to bolt. Ere doing so, however, he dared to stay to leave thing 3 en train for the first object of his existence—the restoration of Olga. That was of equal importance to him with escaping justice. He fetched Jacobi to Dagmar. But though she, with the subtlety of a clever brain, turned the poor besotted creature inside out she could elucidate nothing farther. That he had had Mrs Barry's address, but had lost it. Her name was not Barry now, but something quite different. He had seen her in London, and that was every word he knew about her." So there was no clue to Olga'e vicinity yet. All that Dagmar knew was that she

had been seen alivo after the time she had supposed she had attended hor funeral. Au rcste, she meant to search for her. His mind partly at rest concerning Olga, inasmuch as he did not know much abDiit her nobody else did, Mark bade adieu to Dagmar. "Nelly will turn up like a bad halfpenny/'* ho said. "Ah, but what young person did you say she met from Slackaby ?" "Her name was Leah Dawson. How green you look " But he was gone. Tho namo was sufficient for him. Nelly did not return, and nothing became known about her. It was a very mysterious disappearance, and caused Dagmar great vexation, because she was seriously uneasy as to her fate. If she could only have seen where she was, and who with — Ah, me! what singular coincidences happen in real life. Truth, aprcs tout, is stranger than fiction; and so the final recovery of Nelly was to prove. \ CHAPTER XXV. i Roy Gunton was in a brown study. Not altogether an unpleasant one if his face was to be believed, and that it was any physiognomist could have declared. Noble, intellectual, gcod j it was a faco that tho J most carping or suspicious would rely on. He had improved much for tho better mentally since the conversation he and Maisie had mutually had concerning tho sad tragedy which had deprived hor of her lover. Not because so much had been done; but rather because tho hope of effecting it now animated his brow. The faint chance that Charlie might not be guilty had merged into the bolder belief that he was not. Still, Charlie had not condescended to admit as much. He took a very high and mighty tone when ho responded to the summons homo ; politely declined to be catechised; sneered at Horace Bertie for being a soft fool ; and recommended Roy to tip the wink to the fugitive that he was the guilty party. At tho same time he repudiated vehemently all opposition to his own wedding, and dared any to attempt intervention. Let who durst throw a single stone against his reputation, he would challenge accusation. Consequently his marriage with Hilda Crauford had taken place with great eclat. Certainly Roy had not graced it. He could not well have been there had ho wished; no invitation was accorded him ; but Maisie, brilliant and handsome, no fear nor doubt in her haughty carriage, had received as much homage as the noblest guest. Suspect Charlie! She would as soon suspect herself. She knew who was guilty, and before she had done she meant to bring the charge home to the right party. Meanwhile, things were working forward in the right direction. She had been on a visit to Briarwood, the Baroness Grey do Lucerne's —once the Hon Mrs Bertie's —home. They had become great friends, and both hoped tremendous result from poor Horace's next stolen visit home. Roy was thoroughly acquainted with each plan, and it was not on the score of the Gunton tragedy—as it had grown to be called —that he sat in a brown study. Sir Henry entered and scattered his thoughts—perplexity on his brow. " I think I am going to dismiss Soames," j he said j " can't think what's come to the fellow lately. He's been dazed or stupid for some time now. Fact is, as I've just told him, if his gun had shot poor Treveryan he could not have been more altered by the event. By George, that attack roused him, till —till —well, till he behaved more like a lunatic than a sane person. He talked nineteen to the dozen, and said something about look at home. What did his insolence mean? Does he dare to imply that I—l was Treveryan's murderer ?" Sir Henry spoke rapidly, but Roy was up before half his father's sentence was uttered. "Of all the big, blundering sillies !" he exclaimed, impetuously. " Roy!" said the Baronet in amazement. "It is true, father. I have been a great blundering stupid". I think how it has been I have overlooked Soames, and his ! How I forgot him! Where is he ? I'll go to him. First let me tell you that I'm expecting a friend hero from Bingley by the 11.22, Langley Bruce, the new Q.C. I was pondering about his arrival and Maisie when you entered!" Sir Henry's face afforded food for a study. Had Roy spoken to him in Greek he could not have looked more perplexed. " What the dickens are you talking about ?" ho blustered. There was no answer. Roy had gone. " What the dickens have I to do with his friend coming, or Maisie either, for the matter of that ? Ten more or less make little odds here. Besides, what has Soames' stupidity or insolence to do with his f orgetf ulness ? I consider Roy has treated my confidence cavalierly and with scant courtesy. Hang it! I'll be master as long as I live even if I am growing old. Soames, in equal perturbation, was standing idly in the spinney, grinding his heel in the ground when Roy foun*d him. "I shall hev to go, Mr Roy!" he exclaimed, bitterly; " and it's all along o' that ere cussed shooting do. You telled me to hold my tongue, and it mazed me like. Sir Henry he've bin angry at my silence many a time, but I kep it up till today, and now " "My poor Soames," interrupted Roy, pityingly. " I blame myself much that 1 forgot your share in that hideous secret which I once asked you to keep, but which there is no necessity, I firmly believe, for you to guard any longer." t( Ah, sir, so you've released me at last—now that it's all too late; I shall be my own master, and could hev taken my choice whether to be silent or speak. Why, Mr Roy, did you not gi my tong freedom when Miss Hilly married ?" " Miss Hilly!" exclaimed Roy, perplexed in his tura. " I don't see what her marriage had to do with it. But you can peak now, my poor fellow, and still 8

remain with us. I'll make that right with your master." " Why* sir!" burst from Soames; " who dun you think shot Mr Treveryan ? Worn't Miss Milly in lovo with him then P What did you mean or I think about hiding the dreadful family disgrace if you weren't expecting him to be your brother. Why arter all I belioves you and I, sir, suspecs different persons!" The man rubbed his hand across his brow, as if to try and clear the confusion in his brain. Roy stared at him in dumb surprise. " You see, sir, when I hoord tell on Miss Milly's engagement to tho Major, ses I to mesel, Mr Roy won't let hor hev Mr Boyd, and it's not " " Mr Boyd!" burst from Roy loudly. " Why, I supposed you believed my brother guil " " The Lord forgive you, sir," interrupted Soames, fervently. "Ah, then that explains it all. I did think you a bit funny with him that day in the study a'cos, arter all, Mr Roy, he wur only doln' what you and me wur a tryin', to shield of his friend and Miss Milly's sweetheart. Ses I to mesel, Mr Roy's brain hev got tooched with tho trouble. Not, sir, as I wur a good un to think aught o' anybody. My wifo'll tell you I've been but a poor addle-headed dummy ever sin. You see, sir, I've never done much more than say yes or no sin you cautioned me. I dare na trust mesel, and that's what's angered Sir Henry. He kicked me, Mr Roy, just now, he did, sir, for sure, and he called me a horful name. And only to think as you could have suspected, Mr Charles!" Already Roy was taking blame to himself. Ho had too readily believed Milly's frenzied viow of the case. Besides, if he had acted honourably and not impressed silence on the man before him—before he had actually heard his account—how much misery might not have been spared them? How, indeed, had he ever believed his own brother could be guilty of such cowardly, dastardly conduct, as to not only kill, but to brazen it off and let another suffer for his offences ? That was his wonder now, and had been for some months past. But never had it been brought so plainly home to him as by Soames' respectful reproaches. "Yes, Soames," ho said, "Miss Maisie called me to account as you have done as to my unjust suspicion of my brother. It seems wonderful how I could have been so imposed upon; yet if you will carry your thoughts back to the day when we had our interview, your words equally deceived me. I see now how you implicated Mr Boyd with 'our family,' wrongly so, quite. Mrs Metcalfe had never one thought that way." " Well, I seed him tryin' to kiss her one day> onyway, sir." Roy looked surprised, but he had no thought to spare for that part of the business. Mark's " trying " to kiss any ono was no proof tliat there was love between them, and that Milly's affections had been bestowed elsewhere he well know. " Soames, you speak positively as to Mr Boyd being tho guilty person. Are you quite sure that you are not mistaken P" " Sir, I wish I could bo, I seed it all too plain, and I've never had a 'appy moment sin. Many's the time, speshly sin Miss Milly's marriage, as I've thowt o' dimming and axing you if my tong might not have its freedom. I could not see sir, beggin' your pardon, why you wanted to let Mr Boyd off at poor Mr Bertie's—l should say Lord Lane's—expense r "I have been careless in your welfare," admitted Roy, ruefully. "You see, Mr Roy, I've a sister as is upper housemaid at Briarwood, and I've heerd from her of the lonely life of her ladyship, his mother, and of what his poor lordship's sufferings must hev bin. I'stead of bein' grand he've got to work like me for his living, and he's no more guilty nor you nor me, sir!" " You have not told me yet, Soames, how it is you are so sure that Mr Boyct's gun killed poor Mr Troveryan." " Why, sir, I seed him. With these own eyes o' mine. I corned through the underwood and seed him stoopin' and takin' deliberate aim. Ses I to mesel, Mr Boyd is deytermined not to lose his bird, and the thowt had barely entered mi heed when I seed poor Mr Treveryan fly up into the air a screechin'. Mr Boyd turned and moight a seen me but his eyes—and, oh, my, they had a horful wicked light in 'em—Was lifted to his gun, and " "Soames, why did you not seize him then?" "I can't tell what corned over me, sir. It wur like as if a panic seized me. I flew in the other direction. I don't think as I feared poor Mr Treveryan was dead. Then there wur Miss Milly's evidence and your command, and " " We were all to blame," interposed Roy, " What a series of mistakes we have made. However, it is never too late to remedy them. You will swear to all you have told mo?" " Gladly, sir. I'll swear to anythink so long as I may speak out agen without fear o' doin' mischief, and you'll make it right wi' Sir Henry a' cos, barrin' the heving to keep silence, this is a good place. I'd be long sorry to go if " Roy nodded. "I will make that all right, but what puzzles me, Soames, is " " Roy, you here!" Roy turned as guiltily as if caught in a wrong act. It was his sister who bad spoken. She was bowing haughtily in response to Soames' touch of his cap. She was accompanied by a little, fair doll-faced creature—Flora Spiers—scarcely the style one would have supposed Roy would have selected for his wife. Yet so it was. He worshipped the ground she trod on. His eyes brightened ecstatically at sight of her (though she was nothing much to look at); bis face told its own tale of adoration. The engagement was in abeyance, had been broken off in fact; but an invitation which Flora had recently received to Coxmoor had elevated her hopes considerably. Not*

■SSS; — - ■■ withstanding this, Roy had not renewed his offer, and she to teaze him—Roy trusted she had only done it with that object—had been keeping on a warm flirtation with Mr Jan Gregory, a gentleman on the eve of marriage. "You can go, Soames; I will speak to Sir Henry/' said Roy, taking his place between the two ladies. . " Wo want you for golf, Roy," said Flora, coquettishly. "Where is Mr Gregory?" ho queried, mischievously. There was something in Roy s expression that sent Flora's heart beating hopefully. He had not looked so merry for months. "Ho is there," she pouted; " but I—l want you." He stooped and whispered passionately in her ear — " You must spare me a little longer, darling. We are on the eve of a great discovery. I ought not to bo so rejoiced. But how can I help it, my Flo., if it gives me you again—my only love." She raised her eyes shyly to his face—a world of trust and love in their depths. " Will you leave me alone with my sister for a few minutes, Flora ?" said Roy, speaking aloud. "Don't stand still, dearest, because your clothing does not strike me as warm enough, and I would not have you take cold for the world." " Whatever made you give vent to such a gauche speech, Roy ?" demanded Maisie of her brother, as soon as they were alone. "Nothing could possibly have wounded Flora more. She is not half clad, poor thing! It takes her all her time to dress at all for us fashionable people; let alone warmth or variety." It was a new lesson for Roy to learn. He stared, and as he did so tears of regret that his darling should be called upon to experience such mortification and selfdenial dimmed his eyes. It was but momentarily, " I will soon alter all that! ho said, with energy. " Please God, befoio long she shall know what it is to attire herself in costly f ars like yours, Maisie." "So that's it again, is it ?" said Maisie, tossing her head. "Maisie!" burst in Roy, agitatedly; " your view of poor Treveryan's tragedy is, I firmly believe, going to turn out, as you always averred it would, the correct one. Soames knew all along. He has just been telling me he saw " Maisie's mood suddenly changed from supercilious banter to the highest state of excitement. "Soames saw, and why did he not speak ?" sho oxclaimed, poromptorily. "He deserves hanging for his silence; and glad as I am that he has seen fit to divulge at last, after all this delay, I shall be the first to condemn him for not speaking. What did he see ? Quick, Roy, I am consumed with impatience!" "He saw Mark Boyd, he declares, deliberately take aim and shoot your lover. Charlie, therefore#* was but shielding him after all." . " I told you ! I told you!" cried Maisie, imperiously. "Milly misunderstood their two attitudes. Charlie's emotion was caused at discovering his friend's treachery, and not at his own guilt. What are you going to do now? Issue a warrant immediately for Mr Boyd's arrest ? I will go and see him hanged!" «I—l think I shall start immediately for Briarwood," announced Roy, with deliberation. " I know what Sir Henry will urge—our guests here, and their claim on my

time." ~' ■" "... "As if anything could interfere with bringing George's murderer to light. Get him arrested, Roy; I shall not rest till then!" «'Dear Maisie," observed Roy, tenderly ; "don't allow your perhaps but natural instincts for rerenge to cloud your goodness of heart. Mark Boyd shall be brought to judgment." "Oh! I thought perhaps you were going to advocate forgiveness—silence!" sneered Maisie.

She was panting with emotion. " Not so, my dear sister. Right is right all the world over. Horace Bertie's banishment has been long and cruel, and whoever oan release him from it has a distinct duty in that direction. But for his wrong I—l might, like Charles, have retained a silent.tongue. 'Vengeance is mine/saith a higher authority than ours, and as no disclosure could have brought back Treveryan, I should have found no deliberate pleasure in reducing him to tho gallows." "Oh, but I should!" declared Maisie, with <; baneful light in her eyes. " I would punish everybody—Charlie, Soames, you—who has delayed bringing him to justice. You propose to start at onco for Briarwood r

"I do, to consult with Horace's mother. Poor, bereaved, afflicted creature; my news will be like balm of Gilead to her. I will tell you more on my return. Come along, Maisie."

They soon overtook Flora Spiers, who looked interrogatively into both their agitated faces.

Roy drew his arm through hers. " I am just starting on a little journey, F 10.," he said. " You will promise to remain until my return ?" " But need—you go ?" she asked, with quivering lips. "" Should I leave the sunshine and happiness voluntarily, for darkness and shadow ?" he asked her significantly, as he pressed her arm. "No, darling, I am obliged to go; but if my journey prospers it will be to eventually bring us together, and never to separate us more." "I will—promise—to stay," she whispered, timidly. "Maisie," said Roy, to her; "make my adieux temporarily e - 0h t by the way, there is an exceWingly nice young fellow coming, the last new Q.C., a man whose rise has been phenomenally speedy, just as poor Brownrigg's has been the opposite. I daresay he is with father or by himself now!" He paused. "■Well?" exclaimed Maisie, impatiently.

"I want you to entertain him." She raised her eyebrows. " This morning I was in a brown study as to how best to save him from your—your, umph, fascinations!" " Yes," said Maisie, no whit moved by tho implication. "He is a nice fellow, an uncommonly nice fellow, this Langloy Bruce; but he does not strike one as being too aufait with society lustre and sham. He is too real, too sincere. A spade is a spade to him, and if made love to ho—well, he might lose his heart and take it au sericuz." " In other words, without beating about tho bush, you mean don't flirt with Mr Bruce," said Maisie, unblushingly. " You should caution Flora about that." " O-o-oh !" exclaimed Flora, as if flirting and she were unknown to each other. " Flora is not the adept in the art you are, Maisie. Hers is open, and done with a purposo," said Roy. Maisie laughed. "Do get off!" sho said. " I will see after Mr Bruce's happiness without being too charming. I will make all sorts of excuses for you. But I am impatient for you to start." " Be a good girl," responded her brother, " and remember my hint before starting. I was in a brown study as to how best to ask you to spare Langley Bruce's feelings all this morning, and little thought then I should be away and unable to guard him !" "He's not worth much if he can't guard his own feelings," retorted Maisie, with her head in the air. " I think I shall give him a few lessons. He will thank me later on." " Oh, don't, Maisie," pleaded Flora. " You know you really are too bewitching to all tho men. No one else has a chance, have they, Roy, when she is by ?" Roy squeezed Flora's hand in reply. He had noticed a shadow of regret pass oyer his sister's face, perhaps at the recollection that the one whom she had herself loved out of all her admirers was lying cold and still in his grave. " I'll just see if Bruce has arrived," said Roy. " I shall have time before I start." "When shall you return?" called out Maisie after him.

" To-morrow evening, probably." " You might have kissed Flor—!" A hand was over Maisie's mouth, and tho sentence was checked.

"What harm?" demanded Maisie, wilfully; "a man ought to kiss his sweetheart !" » " I—l'm not that!" declared Flora, with a suspicious quiver in her voice. "Oh, you're not, aro not you!" cried Maisie, mischievously; "and you expect me to believe that ? Oh, Flora "—seizing her friend and whirling her round in a waltz—"l am so —so glad! Something very, very good has happened ; and —and — oh, it is better than thousands of pounds !" " Is Roy glad, too ?" asked Flora, anxiously. " Very glad; and so will you be, because soon you will be my sister. I want one since Milly went away, I can tell you !" " I—should dearly like to—to bo a sister to you," admitted Flora, wistfully. " I wonder what it all means ?"

" When you aro Mrs Roy Gunton, my dear, your husband will tell you." " Has Soames anything to do with it—all ?"

" Soames! oh, he deserves shooting and his tongue cut out!" declared Maisie, irately. "He might " There she stopped abruptly, causing Flora to marvel more than ever at what had happened. (To be continued.)