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â€"â€"M.ss Gary has sailed for Europe. Her journey is entirely unprofessional. â€"-'Ihe Duke of Edmhurg played the violin obligato‘ in Gounod’s “ Ave Maria " to Marie Rome’s soprano solo, and the Princess Chris- tian accompanied Mme. Goldscbmidt (Jenny Lind) in two rvcent concerts. â€"Havorly's Mastodon Minstrels sail for England the first week in July to fill an en- gagement at Her Majesty’s Theatre in Lon- don. They will have a number of novelties, and propose to present a programme that will astuuish the natives. â€"â€"Wilhe1mj will play twice a week during the summer at. Koster & Bial’s concert garden, in New York. ~It is said that Ada Dyas, leading lady at Wallack’s, will star next season in a. new play written for her by Joaquin Miller. â€"It is suggested, now that Barnum has sworn his circus is Worth only $60,000, he ought to take a reef in some of the adjectives of his advertisement. â€"The death of George Honey, the English comedian, was announced this week. He made a great hit in this country some five years ago as Middlewich in “Out Boys,” and Eccles in “Caste." â€"â€"Haverly’s monster concerts at the Chicago Exposition Building in Chicago, with Levy as the attraction, proved a dismal failure, the audience being, according to the Tribune “ microscopic in comparison to the size of the building.” â€"We learn from an exchonge that honest little Emma Abbott and truthful Jimmy Morlissey are 1emganizing for next season. The latter has already: sailed for Europe in (11th of talent, cmrying with him a. whole trunk full of little hatchets. â€"-Mary Anderson’s latest critical admirer calls her “The Apollo Belvidere in patti- coats." -â€"“Honest John” Brougham is reported to be more comfortable, and to have better chances of recovery. â€"Edwin Booth is said to be at work on a life of the elder Booth, to be published in Osgood’s series of actors’ biographies. â€"â€"P. S. Gilmore has arrived from Europe with a euphonious trombone, which the New Haven Register says “ is the first one ever burn in captivity.” ~Amoné the theatrical people who have already gene, or are soon to 20 to Europe for the summer, are John T. Raymond, Harry Beckett, Mr. and Mrs. W. J.Florence, Booth, George Fawcett Rowe, A. M. Palmer, HeuryC. Jarrett, Will Stuart, Lotta, and Rose Coghlan. â€"-Th£?New York Star refers to Frank Mor- daunt as once having “had the makings of the best actor in America. in him." â€"-â€"The Camilla Ursoi concert season in By dney y, Austraha, has been a great. success. On the 8th of April she left Sydney for New Zealand. â€"[t is positively announced that Miss Emily Soldeue, who is alleged to possess the capacity for kissing two tenors simultaneous- ly without inconvenience to either parts, will revisit the United States next fall accom- panied by Miss Clam Vesey, Miss Rosa Stella, and a. whole bevy of channels fresh from the English Sunday Schools. ~Somebody says: “There are three things in Cincinnatiâ€"pork, beer and music, and the people make four. During’ the greater part of the revolving year the people divide their attention judiciously between the three objects of interest within their reach. They give their days to pork and beer, and their nights to beer and music.” ‘ â€"The ability of the company engaged to support the Diva Patti and Nicolini in Paris, is illustrated by a story which runs as fol- lows : “ The manager finds the Azucena for ‘ Trovatore ’ sick. requests an indulgence, etc., which is so readily acquiesced in that the manager suggests omitting the role altogether, and finds no remonstrance ; the opera is then given with the part out. â€"-The London World gives this short scene as an example of the ready wit of Gilbert, the Play wrighg : "If you will let. me advise you as a friend," said. the magistrate, “you will not take out a. summons against this cabman ; it will give you a great deal of tIouble, and your time is valuable.’ ’ “I am greatly obliged by your counsel.” replied the dramatist; “but the men has been insolent, and has tried to be extortion- ate.” “Never mind that. Mr. Gilbert ; think of your valuable time.” ‘ ii‘rMay I remind your worship that I do not prosecute cabmen as a means of livel‘hood ‘2” â€"Osgood will soon publish a. life of Forrest written by Lawrence Barrett. â€"The Mendelssohn Glee Club of New York have advertised to American composers for three prize compositions for a male voice chorus. A prize of $100 is offered for a can tata of the length and character of Mendels- sohn’s “Sons of Art,” 8. prize of $50 for a song of the length and character of Mendelssohn’s “Love and \Vine," and a third prize of $25 for one of the length and character of the same compOSer’s “Farewell to the Forest.” The compositions, which must be sent in be- fore the 15th of October next, will be sub- mitted under a motto. or assumed name, ac- companied by an envelope marked in a. similar manner, to a. committe of three. con- sisting of Mr. Mosenthal, Director of the Glee Club. and two musicians, one of whom must be foreign born and one an American, to be appointed by the club. Preference will be given to pieces written without other accom- paniment than piano or organ. â€"Jameh E. Murdock, the veteran actor, tells this anecdote in his recently published work on the stage : “Macready was once playing ‘Hamlet’ in the West. The king was a good deal of an American, even for a man born in the western part of this free hemis- phere, and Macready was a little nervous while he had to do with him. When it came time for Macready to stab the king, he proâ€" vided him with a place to fall, near the steps of the throne, leaving for Macready's fall and death the centre of the stage. To Macready’s surpiisc. the actor turned around and fell in his own prominent place, leaving him no‘ adequate room for his death scene. However. he found another situation. After speaking to the man about the matter. the actor replied: “Well. we Western people know nothing about kings, except that they have an odd trick of doing as they please ; therefore I thought as I was king for once I had a right to die wherever I dâ€"d pleased,” RATHER TOO MUCH OF A TREASUREâ€"Lady (engaging parlor maid): “And why did you leave your last place ?” Candidate (bridling): “Which I were considered too good-looking, mum! Visitors was always a takin’ me for the missis, mum i” 7 Inebriate (who had somehow been precipi- tated from the top of a me~car) : “Whaâ€"eh marr’r?â€"â€"Collisgh’n ?" Bystanders: “No." Inebriate : “ ’Xshplozh’n ‘2” Bystanders : “No." Iuebriate : “Car ofi railsh ‘2" By- standers : “No." Inebriate (with grave com- posure) : “Then, if I’d knowl ’t, I wouâ€"wou â€"-wou1d1't na‘ gorr out 1” THE WEALTH 0F Youuo LOVELâ€"Edwln (who has just sold his first sketch from nature to a benevolent-looking stranger for 20 guineas): “There, love! It only took me two hours! Working six hours a day for six days a. week, that makes eighteen sketchesâ€"at 2O guineas eachâ€"360 guineaa a weekâ€"say poundsâ€" that’s £18,720 per annumâ€"say £18.000 a. year. as we must take a fortnight’s holiday, you know! And all that without rezkoning that I mean to raise my price as I go on 1” Angelina: “Splendid, dearest! And we’ll lay by half, you know, in case of araiuy deiy !’i -â€"The New Ymk World, speaking of Bob [mg 6180“ thinks it is not. strung. that n. man who don’t believe in God should believe in Blaine. fllUSlC AND THE DRAMA. A SIP 0F PUNCII. She told him, and during the few minutes he Was gone he found out who Miss Fleming from Boston was, and all about her that the English'speaking clerk knew. But there was no letter for her, for which he was very sorry. She was sorry, too ; and did so want to hear from home and sister. She did not say mamma. for she knew her mother was dead. and had known it for aweek and kept it to herself until she could decide whether to wear black or not, and so shut herself out from any amusements they might have in Paris, where they wereigoing next. .u .. 2 “1713’; griffiend who was once at school there. Everard Forrest, of Rothsay, do you know him 7” “N ed Forrest of Bethany 1 Of course I know him. We were at school together. He’s the best fellow in the world. And he is your friend, too ‘2’ "j" Is he ‘1’" Josephine asked; and Mr. Evarts replieg : _â€"éliieâ€"t;aidvno idea that he did, and was as- tonished at the vehemence with which he re- sponfidefid: .‘u . n. r “ Yes," Josey answered. beginning at once to calculate how much knowledge of Everard she would confess to. “I knew him when he was In college at; Amherst. We lived in Hol- button. then, a little town over the line in New York, and he was sometimes there, but I have not seen him for a long time. I hope he is well.” “ He was the last time I saw him, which was three or four months agc.perhaps more,” Mr. Evans replied. “He was in the city for a day. and I saw him just a moment. “He is working like a dog , sticks to his busi- ness like a burr. which is so different from what I thought he'd do, and he so rich too. 71 --r~â€"~â€" . “ Why, yes; his father must have been worth half a million, at least, and Ned got the whole, I suppose. There are no other heirs, unless something was given to that girl who lived in the family! Rosamond Hastings was the name, I think.” .. “ Is his fafiher dead 7” Josephine asked; and 111 her voice there was a. sharp ring which even stupid Phil. Evarts detected and wondered at. ._.-_, .,_V Naturally the two began to talk of America, and when Mr. Evarts spoke of Cincinnati as his home, she suit}: “Dead? Yes,” he replied. “He has been dead I should say nearly, if not quite, two yegrs." _ . ,1,y,__ Josephine was for a moment speechless. Never in her life had she received so great a shock. That Judge Forrest should have been dead tvo years and she in ignorance of it séeme impossible, and her first feeling ‘after she began to rally 8. little was one of incredu- lity, and she asked : “ Are you not mistaken?" “ No, I'm not,” Mr. Evarts replied. ”I saw Everard in Covington a few weeks after his father’s death, and talked to him of the sick: ness. which was epoplexy or something of that sort. Anyway, it was sudden, and Ned looked as if he hadn‘t a friend in the world. I did not suppose he cared so much for his father, who, I always thought, was a cross old tyrant. I used to visit at Forrest House occasionally years ago, when we were boys, but have not been there since the judge’s death. Ned does not often come to Cincin- nati, and as I have been gone most of the time for the last two years, I have heard but little of him.” _ “ How 10â€"11'g did you say, has his father been dead?” Josephine asked; and Mr. Evarts re- plied; ‘v 1 “ Yes, thank you,” Josey said, and as she just then saw Mrs. Amold coming. into the salon, she bowed to her new acquaintance and walked away, with such a. tumult in her bosom as she had never before experi- enced. FOR BEST HOUSE. r”‘V‘fiIVt must be two years in November or thereabouts.” “ And. this Rosamond Hastings who lives there, how old is Phe,and is he going to marry her ?” Josephine asked next ; while Evstbs thought to himself : u 1 “ Miss Hastings must be seventeen or eighteen,and when I~saw her, five or six years ago,3vus not so very handsome.” -. 1 her It would take her a little time to recover herself and decide what to do. She must have leisure for reflection ; and she took it that night in her room, and sat up the entire night thinking over the events of the last two years. as connected with Everard, and coming at last to the conclusion that he sins a sco‘fxndrel, Whom it was her duty as well as pleasure to punish by going to America at once and claiming him as her hus- band. In the first days of her sudden bereavement. Agnes‘ kind heart had gone out with a great yearning for her young sister, to whom she had at once written of their mutual loss, say- ing how lonely she was. and how she hoped they would henceforth be more to each other than they ever had been. And Josephine had been touched and softened, and had written very kindly to Agnes, and had cried several times in secret for the dead mother she would never see again, but whose death she did not then see fit to announce to Mrs. Arnold; but ‘ she would do so now, and make it a pretext for going home at once. Nothing should keep her from wreaking swift vengeance on the man who had deliberately deceived her for two years, and who, she had no doubt, was faithless to her in feeling, if not in act. Of course there was a woman concerned in the matter, and that woman was probably Rossie Hastings, who, Mr. Evarts said, was living at the Forrest House. whither she meant to go in her own person as Mrs. J. E. Forrest, and so rent the enemy. and establish her own claims as a much-injured wife. She did not mean to be Violent orharsh, only grieved, and hurt, and forgiving, and she had no doubt that in time she should be the most popular woman in Rothsay, not even excepting Beat- rice, whose silence with regard to the judge’s death she could not understand, inasmuch as she could have no reason for keeping it a se- cret. It may seem strange that. as a friend of Eveiard 3 Phil Evarts had not heard of the judge‘ s will but, for the last two 01 three years he had led a wandering kind of life, and spent most of his time in Rio Janeiro, and, as Everard had never spoken of his affairs on the few occasions they had met since the judge’ s death he was in total 1g nor- ance of the manner in which the jgud e had disposed of his property. Had he known it, and told Josephine. she might have acted fiifierently, and hesitated a little before she ‘ gave up a situation of perfect ease and com- parative luxury for the sake of a husband V1 .1om she did not love, and Who had nothing \for her support except his own earnings. But she did not know this, and she was eager to l comfort him and the jade, as she stigmatized Rosamond and she packed some of her clothes that night that she might start at once. Fortunately for her plan the next morn~ ing’s mail from Paris brought her another letter from Agnes, who thought she might be anxious to know what she had decided to do, for the present. at least. until they could con- sult together. But Josephine cared very little what Agnes did. She was going to the Forrest \House, and she was glad that Dr. Matthew- VOL XXIII. 11051617133 d6 believe," but he answered BY MARY J. HOLMES. son,- who had been with list for a time at the hotel, had started for Italy only a few days before. He might‘ have opposed her plan, and she knew from experience that it was hard to resist the influence he had over her. Utterly reckless and unprincipled. he seemed really to like this woman, whom he thor- oughly understood, and in whose nature he recognized something which responded to his own. Two or three times he talked openly to her of a divorcewand had hinted at a glorious life in Italy or wherever she chose to go. But Josephine was too shrewd to consi- der that for a. moment. Dr. Matthewson lived only by his wits. or to put it in plainer terms. by gambling and speculation, and intrigue. To-day he was rich, indulging in every possi- ble luxury and extravagance, and to-morrow he was poor and unable to pay even his board ; and much as she liked him she had no fancy to share his style of living. She preferred rather to be the hated wife of Everard Forrest and the mistress of his house; so she took Agnes’s letter to Mrs. Arnold, and with a great show of feeling told her her mother was dead, and her sister Aggie left all alone, and wanting her so badly that she felt it her imperative duty to start at once to America. , “I am sorry, of course, to leave you,” she said, “but you have so many acquaintances now, and your health is so much better, that you will do very nicely without me, I am sure, and I have long felt that my position was merely a sinecure. I am only an un necessary expense.” Mrs. Arnold knew that to some extent this was true. Josephine was rather an expen- sive luxury, and she had more than once seen in her signs of selfishness and duplicity which shocked and displeased her. But the girl had been uniformly kind and attentive to her, and she was loth to part with her, and tried to persuade her to wait till spring. But Josephine was determined. and seeing this, Mrs. Arnold ceased to oppose her, and gener- ously gave her two hundred dollars for her expenses home; and Josephine took it and smiled sweetly through her tears, and kissed her friend gushingly, and then hurried away to complete her preparations. r{he next day she left Dresden for Paris, Where she staid a week, while she selected a. most becoming wardrobe in black, and was delighted to see what a pretty, appealing woman she was in her mourning, and how fair and pure her skin showed through her long crepe veil, and how blv and pathetic her eyes looked, es- pecially when she managed to bring a. tear into them. Of course she was noticed, and commented upon, and admired on shipboard, and when it was known why she was going home al'one, and Why she was in such deep mourning, she had everybody’s sympathies, and was much sought after and petted. She was certainly a fair picture to contem- plate. and the male portion of her fellow travellers indulged in that pastime often, and anticipated her every movement, and vied with each other in taking each her chair to the most sheltered and comfortable place, and adjusting her wraps. and drawing her shawl a little closer around her neck, and helping her below when she was at all dizzy, as she frequently was , and when at last the Ville do Paris came into port and she stood on'shore, frightened, bewildered and so much afraid of those dreadful custom-house officers, though she had nothing dutiable ex- cept 8. Madonna bought for mamma before she knew she was dead, at least ten gentlemen stood by her, reassuring her and promising to see her through, and succeeding so Well that not one of her four big trunks was molested, and the cap- tain himself helped her into the carriage which was to take her to the Harlem depot. With all the gallantry of' a Frenchman he saw her comfortably adjusted, and squeezing her hand a little, lifted his hat politely, and Wishing her bon voyage, left her to drive away toward the new life which was to be so different from the old. Everard had been gone nearly two weeks instead of one, and Rose- mond had not heard from him except through Mr. Russell, who told her that the business, which had reference to sundry in- fringements on patents and some missing deeds, was occupying him longer than he had supposed it would, as it required much re- search and a good deal of travel; “but he ought to be heme now. very soon." he said to her one rainy morning in November, when he came to see her on business and found her sick in her room with a sore throat and severe cold. Rossie had been very lonely with both Everard and Beatrice away,â€"for the latter had been in New York since September, and by last accounts was on her way to Flo1ida with Mollie Morton, who wished to try the efiect of a milder climate than Vermont, and as Mr. Morton” could not leave his church in Boston, which had now become a permanancy, Bee had consented to accompany her, so Ros- sie was alone, and in a measure defenceless, on the afternoon when Mrs. Markham an nounced that the hack which ran to and from the depot had turned into the avenue and was coming to the house, and that it con- tained two ladies and at least three trunks, if not four. “Ladies and trunks coming here ‘2” Bessie exclaimed. starting up in bed and trying to listen to the voices, which were soon heard speaking together at the side (1001', where the hack had stopped: 7 But she could distinguish nothing, and Mrs. Markham went to ascerâ€" tain who the strangers were. Half way down the stairs she met old Aunt Axie. who held in her hand a blackâ€"borderea card on which was engraved the name “Mrs. J. E. Forrest." “The young lady done gin me this to fetch to Miss Hastings,” Axie said, as she handed the card to Mrs. Markham, who twice re- peated the name “Mrs. J. E. Forrest.” “Who can she be? Had the judge any “Who can she be? Had the judge {my near relatives ‘2" she asked Axie, who replied : “Net’s I knows on. I never hearn tell of any J. E. Forrests but Mars'r Everan ." ‘H‘Where is the lady ?” was Mrs. Markham’s nex§ question, {md Axie rgpliefi :_ _ ‘ “In the ”caption room, kind of shivrin’ and shakin’s as if she war cold. I reckon ahe’s come to stay a. spell, ease the four big trunks is all in a pile in de side entry. and she acts as ef she think she belong here, for she ask sharp like, “Ain’t thar no fire you can take me te? I’m chilled through.” “Miss who i” she said, sheryer still. “Is it Miss Hastings you mean ? Take her my card and say I’d like to see her if possible,” and that’s every blessed thing I know ‘bout ’em, only the old one looks queer and scart like, and nothin’ in the house for dinner but a. bit of bacon,” and having told all she knew of the visitors, Axie went on her way to re- port the same to Rosamond, and confer with her about the dinner and the rooms the guests were to occupy, while Mrs. Markham went down to the reception room to meet Mrs. J. E. Forrest. “Thar‘s a. fire in Miss' Rossie’s room,” said, “but she’s sick.” Josephine had greatly surprised her sister by walking in upon her unannounced one morning a few days previously; and had still further astonished her by saying that Judge Forrest was dead, and that she had come CHAPTER XXIX. MRS. J. E. FORREST. RICHMOND HILL, THURSDAY, JUNE 17, 1880. heme in order to go at once to Rothsay and her husband. She laid great stress on that word, and gave Agnes to understand that he had written to her of his father’s death, and that it was at his request she had crossed the sea to join him. , . - n. ”V‘V‘Bru'trwon’t he dome here for you? Seems to me that it would have a better look," Agnes said, and her eister replied} “He is quite too busy to waste his time that wpy, for we can go alone; he knows I am accustomed to travelling. We will start at once, I am so anxious to be there. We can shut up the house for the present, until mat- ters are adjusted. when you or I can come back and see to the things." Could Agnes have had her choice, she would have preferred remaining where she was, for she dreaded change of any kind. But go she must, for her presence would add weight and respectability to Josephine, who was very kind to her, and made the leaving Hollmrton as easy as possible. To a. few of ler old friends Josephine told the secret of her marriage, showing her certificate, and saying, now her father-in-law was dead. there was nothing in the way of publishing the marriage to the world,and that she was going to her husband. 0f coarse all Holburten was excited. some believing the story. others diserediting it. but all remembering the play and the mock mar- riage which had seemed so solemn and reel. But Josephine was not popular, and few, if any, regrets were sent after her when she started for the Forrest House. which she reached on the chill November day, when everything was looking its very worst. Even the grounds had a. bare, gray look, but they were very spacious and large, and Josephine felt a throb of pride as she rode up the avenue, looking eagerly out gt the great, square, old-fashioned building, which, though massive. and stately, and pretentious, was not quite What she had ex- pected to find. There was aboutit a shut-up, deserted air. which made her ask the hack- man if there was any one at home, or why the blinds were all closed except in the wing. .......... rm--. They had reached the side entrance by this time, and Josep‘iine waited in her seat an in- stant in the hope that her truant 10rd might come himself to see who his visitors were. In that case she meant to be forgiving, and put her arms around his neck, and kiss him. and whisper in his ear “ I know everything, but I come in peace, not in war. Let us be friends, and do you leave the explanation to me.” u The Ilégfiman {vas a neéro who had' once been in Judge Forrest’s emp1oy, and he re‘ plied, 3. _ . . . . -. ,1,,,AL_A_- L“.-- “ Miss Rossie’s darwharyou see de shutters open, but de rest she keep closed sense old marster died.” There was something like a. flash of indig- nation in Josephine’s eyes as she thought how soon she would change the administra- tion of the household, and make Miss Rossie know her place. _ . .. . u ‘1', She had decided upon this plan since leav- ing Holburton, for the meter she drew to Rothsay the more she began to dread and fear the man who she knew had outlived all love and respect for her. But only Aunt Axie’s broad. black face looked out into the rain, and beamed a smile on Luke,the driver, who was a distant relative. Springiug lightly from the carriage, Josey ran up the steps into the hall, where she stood while Agnes joined her, and Luke de- posited the heavy trunks and claimed his customary fee. and a little more 'on the plea. of “so many big boxes to tote.” 1 But Josephine refused him sharply. and then followed Aunt Axie into the reception room, where no fire had been made that day. for Rossie had never abandoned her deter- mination to use as little as possible of the Forrest money, and nothing superfluous was expended either in fuel, or eatables, or dress. So far as her own incomeâ€"a matter of one hundred and forty dollars or thereaboutsâ€" was concerned, she was generous and free ; but when it came to Everard’s money, as she called it, her eeomomies were almost painful at times and wrung many a remonstrance from old Axle, the cook. “Is Mr. Forrest at home,-â€"Mr. Everard Forrest. 9” With a. shiver and a quick, curious glance around the cheerless room, Josephine turned to Aunt Axie and said : “No, miss. He done went away quite a spell ago, but Miss Rossie’s ’specting him every day. He don’t live here though, when he’s home; he stay mostly in de town.” J oéEphifie did nbt undevrstund her, and con- tinued : “ He will come here, I suppose, as soon as he returns ‘2” i‘fi’veg, miss, he’s sure to do dat,” and Axie nodded knowingly. _ Of course she had no suspicion who this lady was, walking about the room and exam- ining the furniture with a. critical and not fa- vorable eye, and asking, at last, if there was no fire where she could Warm herself after her cold ride ? On being told there was a. fire in Miss Rossie’s room, she took from her purse one of the cards she had had engraved in Paris, and bidding Axie take it to Miss Hastings, sat down to await the result. To Agnes she said, in something of her old, dictatorial tone 2 “ Pray, don’t look so nervous and fright- ened as if we were a pair of burglars. It is my llysbarld’fx housfg. a._n‘d I have a. right hel‘fi’e . “ Yes, I know,” faltered Agnes ; but it looks as if they did not expect you,â€"â€"as if he did not know you were coming, or he would have been at home, and it’s all so dreary; I wish I was back in Holburton,” and poor. homesick Agnes began to cry softly. But Josephine bade her keep quiet. “You let me do the talking,” she said. “You need not speak, or if you have to. you must assent to what you hear me say, even if it is not all quite true. Josephine had expected Rosamond herself, and had taken a very pretty attitude, and even laid off her hat so as to show her golden hair, which, in the dampness, was one mass of waves and curls and little rings about her forehead. She meant to astonish and dazzle the girl Whom she suspected as her rival, and who she imagined to be plain and unpreposses- sing, and when she heard a step outside she drew herself up a little, but had no intention of rising. She should assert her superiority at once, and sit While she received Miss Hastings rather than be received by her. How then was she disappointed and chagrined when, instead of Bessie, there appeared on the threshold a middle~aged woman, who showed. that she was every whit a lady, and whose manner, as she bowed to the blonde beauty, brought her to her feet immediately. “Mrs. Forrest ?" Mrs. Markham said. ifi- terrogatively, consulting the card she held. and then glancing at J osephine, who answered her : “ Yes, Mrs. J. E. Forrest. My hus- band, it seems, is not here to receive me and explain matters, for which I am very sorry.” ' Even then Mrs. Markham had no suspicion of the truth. The husband referred to was. of course, some distant relative. who was to have been there in advance of his wife, and she replied 2 “ No, there has been no gentleman here, but that does not matter, except as it may be awkward for you. Miss Hastings will make you very welcome though she is sick to-day and in bed. Your hus- band is a relative of Mr. Everard Forrest, I presume.” “ A relative I My husband is Mr. Everard Forrest,” Josephine said. “We were married four years ago last summer, and, at his re- quest, I have kept it a secret ever since. But my sister,” and she nodded toward Agnes, “saw me married, and I haVe my marriage certificate in mi bag. Agnes, give me my satchel, please,” and she turned again to Agnes, who knew now they were there unex- pected and unknown, and her face was very white as she brought the satchelior Josephine to open. ._.. . 11 Mrs. Markham was confounded and in- credulous, and she showed it in her face as she dropped into a chair and stared wonder- ingly at her visitor, who, from a little box fastened with lock and key. abstracted a paper which she handed her to read. “I know just how I must seem to you.” Josephine said. “You think me an adven- turess, an imposter, but I am neither. I am Everard Forrest’s lawful wife, as this certifi- cate will show you." _._ i . . 1 Mrs. Markham did not reply, for she was reading that at Holburton, New York, on the evening of the 17th of July, 18â€", Mr. James E. Forrest, of Bothsay, Ohio, was united in matrimony to Miss Josephine Fleming, by the Rev. Dr. Matthewson. There could be no mistake apparently, unless this paper was a forgery and the woman a lunatic, and still Mrs. Markham could not believe it. She had a great respect and liking for Everard, and held him as a model young man, who would never stoop to deception like this, and then-there was Rossie l and the kind. hearted woman felt a pang of pity and a. pang of indignation as she thought how Bessie had been wronged and duped, if this thing were true, and - this woman confronting her 'so calmly and unflinchingly were really Ever- ard’s wife. "Mind your business, Agnes, and let me .attend to my own affairs. I have been quiet long enough ; four years of neglect would try the patience of any woman, and if he does not choose to recognize me as his wife I shall compel him to do so. You saw me married ; you know I am telling the truth. Speak. Agnes, did you not see me married to Everard Forrest ?” “I cenfiet believe it. I will not believe it,” she thought ; and as composedly as it was possibls for her to do, she said : n ’ 1 1: r‘“- ‘- 7 ,, . “This is a strange story you tell mé, and if it is true it bears very heavily against Mr. Forrest, who has never been suspected of being a married man." “-I knew it ; I guessed as much. Oh, Josey, why did you come ' before he sent for you ? Let’s go away. You are not wanted here !” Agnes exclaimed, as she came swiftly to her sister’s side and laid her hand on her arm . But Josephine shook it of? fiercely, and in a tone she knew so well how no as- sume, said commandingly,as if speaking to a child : “ I do not wish for any scene, or talk, or excitement. I am Everard Forrest’s wife. and wish only to be known as such. I hoped to find him here, for then it would be his duty to explain. not mine. Do I understand he is not in town, or not at home 1? Possibly he is in his oflice, in which case I will seek him there." . “ Yes, I ditL may God forgive me,” was Agnes’ meek reply, but still” Mrs. Markham could not believe her, and was silent while Josephine went on : .n “ He is not in town," Mrs. Markham said ; “he went to Indiana on business more than a week ago, and has not yet returned. He does not live here when he is at home ; he boards in the village. Miss Hastings lives here ; this is her house ; perhaps you know that Judge Forrest died, andâ€"â€"” “ Yes, I do.” Josephine interrupted her, beginning to get irritated and lose her self- command as she saw that she was not be- lieved. “I do know Judge Forrest is dead,and has been for two years or more ; but I learned it-accidentally,and as he was the only obstacle in the way of my recognition as Everard’s wife, I came at once, as I had a right. to my husband’s house." “ But this is not his house,” Mrs. Markham replied. “ It belongs to Miss Hastings. Every- thing belongs to her. Judge Forrest left it to her by will. Didn’t you know that ?” 1 “ No, I did not,” Josephine answered, and for a moment she turned deathly white as she saw the ground slipping from under her feet. “ Left everything to Miss Hastings and dis- inherited his son! Why was that, ?” she asked. “ I don’t know why he did it,” Mrs. Markâ€" ham replied, " I know only that he did, and it is strange Mr. Forrest did not write thai to you, as you must, of course, have been in cor- respondence with him.” ‘1 1- x She spoke sarcastically, and Josephine knew she was looked upon with distrust, notwithâ€" standing the certificate, which she had thought would silence all doubt; and that, added to what she had heard of the disposition of the Forrest property, provoked her to wrath, and her eyes, usually so dreamy and blue, emitted sparks of anger, and seemed to turn a kind of whitish grey as she burst out : “ My correspondence with my husband has not been very frequent or full. I to'd you I did not hear from him. of his father’s death ; he never hinted at such a thing. and how was I to know that he was disinherited 2’ If I had, it might have made a difierence, and I should have thought twice before crossing the sea. and giving up a life I enjoyed, for the sake of coming here to find myself suspected as an imposter,which,under the circumstances, is natural perhaps, and to find also that my husband is a pauper, and the home I had con- fidently expected would one day be mine given to a stranger.” Josephine was almost crying when she finished this imprudent speech. in which she betrayed that all she really cared for was the home and the money which she had expected to find. Mrs. Markham saw this, and it did not tend to increase her respect for the lady, though she did pity her. if, as she affirmed, she were really Everard’s wife, for with her knowledge of human nature, she guessed that if there really had been a marriage it was a hasty thing, repented of almost as soon as done, by Everard at least. But she did not know what to say until Josephine, who had recovered herself, continued: “I should like to see Miss Hastings, if pos- sible, and apologize for my intrusion into her house, and then I will go to the hotel and await my husband’s return ;” then she answered quickly, “Miss Hast- ings, I am sure, will say you are welcome to remain here as long as you like, but I do not think she will see you to-day, and if you will excuse me, I will go to her new, as she must be anxious to know whoher visitors ‘ are.” .With this Mrs. Markham arose, and bowing to Josephine left; the room, and went directly to Rosamond. HOW BOBBIE BORE THE NEWS. She did not bear 1t; well at all, although she was in some degree prepared for it by the card which Axie broughtker. _ “ Mrs. J. E. Forrest, â€"Mrs. J. E. Forrest,” she repeated as she examined the card, while something undefinsble, like the shadow of coming evil, began to stir her heart. “Who can she be. and where did she come from ? You say she has a maid ‘2" CHAPTER XXX. “She done squabble fust thing wid the driver, who ax more for fetchin’ and liftin’ her four big trunks, an’ she hold up her gown and walk as ef the groun’ wasn’t good enough for her, an’ she looked round do room kind 0’ snii’fiu’ like, wid her nose turned up a bit as she axed me was that no fire. But my, she be very hansom’ and no mistake. All in black, with such nice skin and pretty eyes, wid dem great long lashes, like Miss Bea.- trice.” “How does the lady look, and What did she say? Tell me everything.” Rosamond said; and Axie, who began to have a. suspicion that the lady was not altogether welcome, re- plied} _ ... . . ... .u.‘ “Yes, or suifin like daisâ€"a. quar-lookin woman who has a lame hand. I noticed the way she slung the lady’s satchel over it, and it hung slimpsey like.” Rossie could deny herself everything, but‘ she was never indifferent to the comfort of others, and though she could not help feeling that this woman, who calledherself Mrs. J. E. Forrest, would in some way work her harm, she could understand just how cold and cheerless the house must seem to her on that rainy day ; and she ordered Axis to build fires in both the rooms below, as well as in the chamber where Everard occasionally spenta night, and which was the only guest» room she kept in order. There was also a consultation on the important subject of dinner, and then Rossie was left alone for a few moments to puzzle her brain as to who this woman could be. and wonder why her heart should feel so like lead, and her pulse heat so rapidly. She did not have long to wait for a solution of the mystery before Mrs Mark ham came in showing at once that she was agitated and distressed. ( "Wtht is it, Mrs. Markham ? Is she any relation to Mr. Everard ?“ Rossie asked eagerly. ‘ It would be wrong to keep her in suspense a moment longer than was ne- cessary, and going up to her, Mrs. Markham replied : _ i. u 1 1' “ She says she is Everard’s wife ; and I have seen the certificate. They were mar- ried more than four years ago. before his mother died, and she,â€"~eh, Rossie, my child, my child. don’t give way like that ;it may â€"it must be false,” she added. in alarm, as she saw the death-like pallor which spread over Rossie’s face, and the look of bitter pain and horror which leaped into her eyes, while the quivering lips whispered : “Everard’s wife? No, no, no 1” “Don’t, Bessieâ€"don’t !" Mrs. Markham said again, as she passed her arm round the girl, whose head drooped upon her shoulder, in a hopeless kind of way, and who said : “You saw the certifieaSe? What was the name? Was itâ€"” After that she neither spoke not moved, and when Mrs. Markham, alarmed at her silence, bent down to look at her, she found that she had fainted. The shock had proved too great for Rossie, whose mind. at the men- tion of Josephine Fleming, had with light- ning rapidity gathered 911 the tangled threads of the past, and comprehended what had been so mysterious at times. in Everard’s behaviour. He was married, hastily, no doubt, but still married ; and Joe Fleming was his Wife, and he had never told her, but suffered her to believe that he loved her, just as she knew now that she loved him. It was a bitter humiliation, and for an instant there gathered round her so thick a horror and blackness that she fancied herself dying ; but it was only a faint, and she lay so White and rigid that Mrs. Markham summoned Aunt Axie from the dining room, where she was making preparations for kindlinga fire in the grate. ._- .- .. .1 . ‘ “Fleming â€"â€"Josephine Fleming. of Holbur- ton,” Mrs. Markham replied, and with a shiver Bessie drew herself away from Mrs. Markham’s arm, and turning her face to‘ the well said : "Yes, I know. I understand it all. She is his wife. She is Joe Fleming.” C ,,,,, “Be quiet,” Mrs. Markham said to her as she came up the stairs. 4‘ Miss Bessie has fainted, but don’t let those people know it ; and bring me some hot water for her feet, quick.” Axie obeyed, wondering to herself why her young mistress should faint, when she never knew her to do such a. thing before, and with her ready wit connecting it in some way with the strangers whom Mrs. Markham had designated as “those people," and whom the old negress directly set down as “no ’count folks.” It was some time before Rossie came back to consciousness, and when she did her first words were : _ “Where is she ? Where is Everard’s Wife ? Don’t let her come in here ; I could not bear it now.” “Everard’s wife! Mars’r Everard’s wife 1” Axie repeated, tossing her turbaned head and rolling'up her eyes in astonishment. “In de deah Lord’s name, what do de chile mean? Dat ain’t Mars’r Everard’s wife 1" and she turned to Mrs. Markham, who, now that Roseie had betrayed what she would have kept until Everard came to confirm or deny the tale, replied : ‘ , “She leafs she is ; but \lve must wait until Mr. Forrest comes before we admit it. So don’t goitalkingpptrsirde." 7n “Catch me talkin , was Axie’s rejoinder. “It’s a. lie. Mars’r Everard hain’t got no wife. I should have knowed it if he had. Don’t you b‘lieve it, honey,” and she laid her hard black hand cm‘essingly on the head of the girl whom she had long sinée singled out as Everard’s future wife, watching shrewdly the growing intimacy between the two young people, and knowing better than they did just when the .sheulled brother merged into the lover, and would not for a moment be- lieve in another wife, anda secret one at that. “No, honey," she continued, “don’t you b’lieve it. Mers’r Everard hain’t got no wife, and never will have. but you.” “Yes, Aunt Axie,” Rossie said, “thiswoman tells the‘truth. She is his wife, and Everard ought to come home. We must telegraph at; once. He is in Dighton still.” Mrs. Markham {coordingly wrote on a slip of pgpeg :‘ _ ‘1’1‘6 J. E. Forrest, Dighton :â€"Come imme‘ diately. And A'xie’s granddaughter, Lois, Who lived in the house, was commissioned to take it to the oflice. A fire had been kindled by this time in the chamber Josephine was to oc-‘ cupy, and she was there with Agnes, and had rung for warm water, which Lois took up to her before going on her errand. As the child was leaving the room Josephine said to her : “Is there a paper published in town ?" “ Yes’m the Rothsay Star.” was he reply. “When does it come out ‘2” was the next question, and Lois said : “Saturday,â€"â€"to-morrow.” "Very well. I wish you to take a notice to the office of the Star ' for me to-niéht, and I 1 will give you a quarter." Twenty-five cents seemed a fortune to the little negro girl, who was greatly im- pressed with the beauty of the lady, and who replied : Z‘Yes, miss, I’ll do ’em. I's gwine to the village directly with a telegraph to Mars’r Everard, and 1’1} take yourn_same tiII_1e:” So, when. a little lager, she started for the telegraph office, she bore with her to the Rotheay Star the fgllgwing: “MAB.!IIED.â€"In Holburton, N. Y., July 17, 18â€", by the Rev. John Matthewson, James Everard Forrest, of Rothsay, Ohio, to Miss Josephine Fleming, of Holburton.” WHOLE NO. 1,14G.â€"â€"N0, 3 “S. MARKHAM.” mas. roannsw’s POLICY. When Aunt Axie was called so suddenly by Mrs.Markham,she was kindling the fire in dining- room, which adj oined the room where J ose hine set shivering with cold, and feeling like anything but a. happy wife just come to her husband’s ancestral halls. Tired with her rapid journey, and disappointed and shocked by what she had heard from Mrs. Markham of the Judg e‘ s will, Josey was nearer giving way to ‘ a. hearty cry than she had been before in a ilong time. It had been far better to have stayed where she was, and enjoyed the life shey liked than to have come here and sub- ject herself to suspicion and slights from the people who did not know her. And then she was so cold, and chilly, and uncomfort- able generally, A But when the fire was made she felt better, and drawing an easy chair close to it, as- sumed her usual indolent and lounging atti- tude. Twice Axle, who seemed to be excited, passed the door, once when she was taking the hot water to Rossie’s room, and again, later, after she had received an impression of the strangers against whom she had men- tally declared war. This time Josephine called her. She had heard an unusual stir above, and from Mrs. Markham’s protracted absence, and Axie’s evident haste, suspected that the bomb-shell she had thrown had taken effect, especially if, as she believed, Rosamond was particularly interested in Everard . “Oh,yes,I hsve heard my husband speak of you. I am very sorry he is not here to set matters right. What is the matter upstairs ? Is any one suddenly ill ?” ,1, a v Axie was bristling with resentment towards this woman, who called Everard her husband so coolly, and in whom she would not belieire till she had her master’s word of confirmation. Still, she must not be insolent, that was against her creed ; but she answered with great dignity, “I tole you Miss Hastin’s was sick, when you fust come. Her throat be ve'ivy sore, an’ her head he very bad ; so you'll scuse me now," and with a kind of sup pressed snort Axie departed, jingling her keys, and towing her blue-turbaned head high in the air. ‘; Woman,” she said, as the black face glanced in, “whatuis your name ?" . 1 “ Axle, ma’am,” was the crisp reply, and Josephine continued : . ‘ 1 1 u n Josephine knew perfectly well how she was regarded in the house, and, irritated and nhagrined, decided at once upon her policy. She should be very amiable and sweet, of course, but firm in asserting her rights. She was Everard’s ivife,and she could pmve it,and it was natural that she should come to what she supposed was his home and hers. It was not her fault that she had made the mistake. The wrong was on his side, and she should stay there until he came, unless they turned her from the door,'which she hardly thought they would do. -- .‘ ,1 .,__1_ Just. tlien Mrs Mmkham appeared, apolo- gizing for her long absence, and saying that; thong) yh Miss Hastings was, of course, sur- prised at what she had 11011qu she did not dis- credit it, and would telegraph at once for Mr Forrest. “ Meantime," she continued, “ she wishes you to remain here till 11% comes, and has given orders to have you made comfortable. I believe there is a. fire in yourroom, if you wish to go to it before dinner. Miss Hastings is too ill to see you herself.” . i -' w. ‘u “ Thanks; she is very kind. I would like to go to my room, and to have one of my trunks sent up. Agnes will show you which Grimâ€"the small leather box.” Josephine said, with a. dignified bow, as she rose from her chair. Calling Aunt Axie, Mrs. Markham bade her conduct the lady to her room, where a bright wood fire was blazing, and which looked very cheerful and pleasant; for. as it was Everard’s room, where he always slept when he spent a night at the For- rest House, Rosamond had taken great pains to keep it nice, and had transferred to it several articles of furniture from the other rooms. Here Josey’s spirits began to rise, and it was in quite a comfortable state of mind that she dressed herself for dinner, in a gown of soft cashmere, with just a little White at her throat and wrists. As it was only her mother for whom she mourned, she had decided that she might wear a jet neck- lace, which heightened the effect of her dress, if indeed it needed anything more to improve it than the beautiful face and wealth of golden hair. Even Mrs. Markham drew an involuntary breath as this vision of loveliness land grace came into the room, apologizing for being tardy, and inquiring so sweetly for Miss Hastings, who, she hoped, was no worse. Her policy was to be a sweet as well as a firm one, and before dinner was over even Mrs. Markham began to waver a little in her first opinion, and Wondered why Everard should have kept secret his marriage with this brilliant, fascinating woman, who seemed so much of a lady, and who evidently was as well born as himself, at least on the ma- ternal side, for Josey took care to say that her mother knew Mrs. Forrest when she was a girl. and was present at her wedding in Boston; but that, owing to adverse circum- stances. they saw nothing of each other after the marriage. uni. 1 u“, ...w-....o “ Papa. was unfortunate and died, and we moved into the country, where, for a time, mamma had a. hard struggle to keep up, and at last took a few boarders in order to live," she said ; and her blue eyes were very tender and pathetic as‘she told what in one sense was the truth, though a truth widely dif- ferent from the impression she meant to con- vex. , ,Aflfi _AL:LA bnce Agnes, whose face was very white, gave her such a. look of sorrowful cntreaty that Mrs. Markham observed and wondered at the great difference between the sisters, and could only account for it on the supposition that Agncs’ mother was a. very different women from the second Mrs. Fleming, who had been a friend of Mrs.Forrest. and a guest at her wedding! Miss Bellman was. of course, brought into the conversation; and Josephine was sorry to hear that she was not at home. “ I depended upon her to vouch for my respectability. She knows me so well.” she said, explaining that Beatrice had been for some time an inmate of her mother’s house in Holburton, and that she had liked her so much, and then, more bewildered than ever, Mrs. Markham went over half “a ' to the enemy, and longed for the mystery to be explained. _ The next day, which was Saturday, it rained with a steady pour, and Josephine kept her room, after having expressed a wish to see Miss Hastings, if possible; and when this request was made known to Rossie by Mrs. Markham. she exclaimed: i‘iNo, noâ€"noia her; not Joe Fleming! I could not bear it till Mr. Everard comes.” She was thinking of her hair and the letter, and the persistance with which Joe Fleming had demanded money from Everard, and it made no difference with her that Mrs. Mark- ham represented the woman as pretty, and lady-like, and sweet. She could not see her, and a message to that effect twat she was too weak and sick to talk with strangers was taken to Josephine, who hoped Miss Hastings was not going to be seriously ill, and ofiered the services of her sister, who had the faculty of quieting the most nervous persons and putting them to sleep. But Rosâ€" ; sie declined Agnes too, and lay with her face lto the wall, scarcely moving, and never lspeaking unless she was spoken to. And lJosephine lounged in her own - room, ,and had her lunch brought up by Axie, to whom she tried to be gracious. But Axie was not easily won. She did not believe in Mrs. J. E. Forrest, and looked upon her presence there. as an affront to her- self and an insult to Rossie, and when about two o’clock the Rothsay Star was brought into the house by her husband, John, who was in a state of great excitement over the marriage notice, which had been pointed out to him, she wrung from Lois the fact that she had carried a note to the editor, and had been paid a quarter for it by the [chTmUED 0N FOURTH mum] CHAPTER XXXI.