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A few weeks ago, a steamer with hundreds of men and helpless women and children was on fire within a few miles of New York. The captain, finding that nothing could be done to save her, took the wheel. ran her aground,and kept her steady there. with the deck burning below him and the flames licking his face and the hands with which he held her, until the last man had a chance to save llimaeif It was the old story of Jim Bludsoe : "1’11 hold her nozzle agen the bank till the last galoot’s ashore.” This man did it. A reporter found the captain a few days later in a hospital, his burned head swathed in bandages. It was supposed that he would lose both his eyes. “All the world is praising you,” said the visi- tor. “I am glad they think I was not lack- ing in duty. I did what seemed the right thing to do at the time,” said the sailor quiet- 1y: Last week a leak occurred in the Hudson River Tunnel. In an instant twenty-eight men found death facing them, and death in the most horrible, hopeless form; they must be choked underground; like rats in a hole, with water and mud. There was no time for preparation or thought; the river was burst- ingin on them. One man, Peter Woodland,a Dane, came to the front, cool, intelligent col- lected. There was a chance that eight of the men could be saved by breaking the glass bullseye ; but when it was broken his own instant death must result. Itis probable that in that brief moment he counted the cost. He was an educated man. to whom life had given much; he was young, strong ; he had a wife and little children. “I saw his face,” says one of the survivors, “as he looked through the glass at us; it was ghastly pale. His voice sounded strange. He gave the order. ‘Break‘ the bullseye.’ We knew there was no chance for him after that was done, and hesitated. But he shouted again, ‘Knock out the bulls- eye, and do what you can for the rest of us !’ " They obeyed and were saved. Woodland and the others were drowned. Our clergyman to-day need not go back to Bible teachings to find a good word with which to cheer their hearers. It is here. Two men, not ancient Greeks and Romans, but New Yorkers, belonging to our streets and ‘ everyday life workingmen, had souls strong} and high enough to enable them to face’death without flinching at an instant’s call, andi calmly to chooee it that they might save the lives of some of their fellow-men. The world 1 has always made much of its heroes who die in battle or for a great cause. The dauntless three who held the bridge; Nelson dying in Hardy‘s arms; the Maid burning at the stake -these are possessions that belong to us all, ennoble us all; they stir the blood in the boy’s veins from generation to generation. The great Maker of us all sends such men among us from time to time. in the fraud and meannesses and corruption of everyday life, like great thoughts to refresh us. Do not let us be blind to them because they died in the mud of the Hudson River instead of at Home or Thermopylse. There was no heroic rage of battle. no great cause to uphold Peter Wood- land when he chose to die in the tunnel the other day. The men he saved were not his kinsfolk, nor even his friends; they were strangersâ€"the laborers whom he superin- tended. There was no applause to gain, no enemy in sight to kindle his courage, nothing but the foul muddy flood coming in on him. No man, in such case, could so nobly die who had not nohly lived. No man, in the immi. nent moment of death. could coolly choose the best and manliest action, and do it, who had not, in every hour of his ordinary daily life, habitually struggled for the highest ground and the best and manliest part open to him. What sermon can he preached to-day in any‘ pulpit to like this 7 In England a little cross would be affixed to this poor Dana’s breast‘ before burial ; a dull leaden thing, bearing only the words “For Valor;” but it would signify that the whole nation honored and were grateful to the dead man for his deed. We have no cross to give; but let us thank God that such men have lived and died to honor and better their race. What matters it, too, where he died? This hero met his fate in battle. that in a hole underground; thisfiioor, patient woman in a. wretched com- monplace house fighting back poverty from her children. They have found entrance to the same shore. “All places on which the eye of God doth rest are to the brave man ports and happy heavens.”â€"â€"New York Tri- bune. DEAD (“V THE FIELD OF HONOR. An Infnluated Dime Novel Rende- SIm-Is for the “’ild “’esl to Extermln ate the Redskins. A singular story comes from Sugar Creek Township. Shelby 00., Ind., exemplifying the bad effects of reading dime novels and other trash); stories, which is so instructive and amusing as to justify relation at length. About sixteen years ago Mr. Philip Hoop, a wealthy farmer of the township mentioned, was appointed guardian of an orphan lad named Landin Shaw. The boy was heir to a fine tract of land, which the guardian sold and invested to the best advantage for his ward's benefit. He was given a good education and was tenderly cared for by Mr. Hoop, who has no children. Although industrious and generally well behaved, young Shaw acquired the habit of reading dime novels, and became completely infatuated with the blood-curdling stories therein related. What efiect they had on his youthful imagination will presently ap- pear. A few weeks ago young Shaw reached his majority, and his guardian paid over to him a large sum of money, the principal and inter- est of his Inheritance. Immediately there- upon the youth. just arrived at the age of manhood, announced his intention of going West. He said he was going where the sav- ages lived, and seemed possessed with a de- termination to relieve Carl Schurz of the job of exterminating the Indians from the face of the earth. With this purpose in view. it ap- pears that he had for some time been en. gaged in the most warlike preparations for his trip into the Western wilds. He had bought up all the revolvers in the neighbor- hoodâ€"good, bad and indifferent. He also purchased a rifle, a shot gun and a rope: ting rifle that fires sixteen shots Without reloading. But not content with this warlike display he added two ferocious-looking bowie knives to his arsenal, and topped his collection by the purchase of two savage dogs at the cost of $40. An old horse and a covered spring-wagon completed the outfit, and Shaw at length announced his readiness to depart for the “happy hunting grounds.” And. sure enough, he started out this morning. solitary and alone, destined he knew not where. ex- cept that he was determined to distinguish himself as an Indian-fighter and exterminator of the pesky red-skins. All the advice and protests of his guardian and other friends were without avail ; and the last seen of the l infatuated youth he was on his lonely way, ‘ without guide, companion or protector. As he is utterly without experience, and chiefly noted for his timidity and shyness. his friends think he Will soon fall a victim to sharpers and be robbed of all his money and equip- ments. But, undeterred by those ominous threats, young Shaw has boldly gone forth to risk his means as well as his scalp, and not return until he has achieved the glory and the name of a hero, as “ Roaring Ralph Rackstraw, or The Bloody Butcher of the Dead Man’s Gulch.”â€"Ciminnati En- quirer. -â€"London Judy :â€"“Mil‘liner (with little account owing)â€"'Is your mamma at home, dear ?’ Intelligent little girlâ€"‘N-n-no, she is not.’ Millinerâ€"‘When will she be at home?’ Intelligent litte girlâ€"â€"â€"‘I don’t know; but I’ll go and ask her.’ ” â€"â€"The idle should not be classed among the living ; they are a sort of dead men who can't be buried. â€"â€"These reports about Tanner’s nausea, etc., are alarming. There is no telling what may happen to a man if he don’t give more attention to his diet. EFFECT OF NOVEL READING. “So good l” said Mrs. Denier. “So ugly 1" said her niece. “So clever l” continued the elder lady. “So fat !” replied the younger one. "The kindest-hearted young man in the world.” “And the least interesting." “Well, have it your own way l” exclaimed Mrs. Denier, now fairly irritated. “For the sake of argument, I will grant the justice of all you say. I will go further, and concede that the vast majority of the world is as blind as yourself to true worth and real talent. I will even admit, if you like, that I am an un- reasonable old woman. But, however ugly, fat and uninteresting Arthur Lestrange may be, even you, Dora. cannot deny that he is well-born, well-bred. and rich.” I‘I do not deny it, my darling aunt " said Dora “A111 say is that his birth, breeding and wealth constitute no sufficient reason for my marrying him.” ._..-._, -_ __ “With your industry, your aversion to gaiety, your indifierence to dress and your passion for housekeeping, you reserve yourself for love in a cottage, I presume ?” asked her aunt sarcasticelly. Dora. laughedâ€"a soft, saucy laugh. She rose from her occupation of painting a spray of yellow roses, and approached the open French window where Mrs. Demer sat at work. Kneeling, she pillowed her wilful. golden head on the old lady’s shoulders, ask- ing, with a world of surprised reproach in her brown eyes : “Why will you be so cross ?” "Child ! I am not cross,” said her aunt. softly stroking the girl’s little hand. “I am not cross, but I am an old women now, and not a rich one. I would fain see you in some safe and tender keeping before I close my eyes on a world which is full of trouble and of temptation.” “But you are not; going to close your eyes yet,” murmured Dom, caressingly. “And Arthur Lestrange is not the only young man in the world, or even in Farnleigh.” “But he' 13 the only one in whose affection for you I could fully trust ” said Mrs. Damer. “He has proved that. he loves you sincerely, but he is not likely to expose himself to a series of repulses He will certainly accept as final the answer which you are about. to disp etch him to- day. In yall probability, he only risked a second proposal because he thou ghtâ€"poor fellow lâ€"that his recent suc- cess might have led you to regard him more kindly. ” “A comedy which wiser people than Miss Dora Morton have admired and applauded," said her aunt, severely. “A month ago, you would have had more sympathy with such triumphs. I am afraid that I can guess only too well the source of your contempt for them n now. 7 “Adrtrumpery little comedy !” said Dom with a, pout. ”You allude to Count Starolyi, aunt ?" she said in rather an agitated voice. “I am glad you give me thus the opportunity of mak- ing to you a communication from which 1 have shrunk all the morning, because I feared to give you pain. Count Starolyi mljéra Morton rose with flushed cheeks and spaglflingrfaygsi Dora nodded, looking a. little anxious and yet defiant. “And you have accepted him ‘2” “Yes.” Mrs. Damer threw up her eyes, slightly shrugged her shoulders and resumedher work. For a. few moments silence reigned. Mrs. Dainef‘ fivi‘wfi't yiourfiwish me joy, auvnty ‘3” asked Dora in a somewhat rueful tone. “I hope you will be happy, dear, of course,” replied the old lady quietly. “It is not a marriage which, in any case, I could have de- sired for you. But as in 9. few months you will be twenty-one, and your own mistress, I have but one favor to ask of you.” “ And what is that ?" asked Dom, some- what diaconcerted at not meeting with the opposition for which she had prepared herself. “ Dear Auntie ” said the girl, warmly. “1 W111 wait of course. To do this pleasure costs me 11' ttle for I know that the Consul will be able to repmt nothing but what is good of Max.” “ To wait, before making your engageâ€" ment public,till I have news of Count Starolyi’s position and circumstances,from Buda-Pesthi Forseeing that the impression which he had plainly made on you might deepen into love, I wrote to the Consul for information, and in a few days I ought to have an answer. Until then, will you consent not to consider your engagements settled thing ?” Mrs. Damer, as she concluded, held out her hand affection- ately to her niece. .~.. .. 1 er uumcr, auu Uunusuu vuv Minnawnh," Farnleigh, on the outskirts of which. in a charming cottage, Mrs. Damer and. and her niece lived. was a. pretty town on the western coast of England. “ I hope you may be right, ” answered Mrs Damer and changed the conversation. A few straw hat manufacturers supplied its wealth, and half a dozen or more semi-aristo- cratic families supplied its pretensions. These families dined one another ; assisted at one another’s christenings, marriages and fun- erals, and made common cause against any intruder who endeavored to gain entrance within their sacred circle. They were a trifle narrow-minded, but had never suspected it ; and a little dull, but nobody had ever told them so. They were, in consequence, alto- gether self-satisfied and estimable. The great excitements of the young ladies (numerous and very pretty) consisted of balls at the county-town in winter, and of dawn-tennis parties in the summer. To these the otficers of the garrison in the atom-named county- ‘ town, were invited regularly, and occasionally came; and the possrbility of their coming constituted the great charm of the entertain- ment. VOL XXIII. Such being the state of things, it is not dif- ficult to imagine the pleasurable sensation re- cently eaused by the arrival on the scene of a fascinating Hungarian Count. This gentle- man had been introduced by one of the elite â€"the Honorable Mr. Stracey. who had known ‘ his father, and who, on meeting him in Paris the previous winter, had given him a press- ing inv1tation to visit Farnleigh. Mr. Strscey, good-natured. impulsive and not very wise. had forgotten his invitation almcst as soon as he had given it, and was rather surprised one fine summer morning to receive a. letter from the Count announcing his imminent ar- rival. Nevertheless,being hospitable, he wel- comed his guest in a. manner worthy of their mutual pretensions to the bluest blood, and introduced him to all his acquaintances ten miles round. There had consequently been a perfect epidemic of dinnerâ€"parties, musical- perties, lawn-tennis parties, at which the Count had won golden opinions from all sorts of people. His only detractors were the offi- cers. who felt a. little sore at being condemned all at once to play second fiddle to the seduc- tive compatriot of Kossuth. “ THAT CHARMING COUNT” “HES proposed to you ?" hastily interposed Count Starolyi had especially a great suc- cess with the ladies. He spoke several lan- guages ; wrote French verses; caricatured to perfection; and sang to the guitar. He had a beautiful drooping moustache. melancholy eyes, patriotic sentiments, and decorations from every court in Europe. Such a combi- nation of charms and accomplishments had never been seen in Famleigh before. THE One peculiarity of this delightful stranger was a passion for making presents. He scat- tered gifts with the munificence of an E9 st- ern potentate, and his lavishness was only equalled by his impartiality. Everybody whose hospitality he had enjoyed could ex- hibit some picture, or jardiniere, or jewel which testified to the fascinating foreigner's gratitude and taste; all these simple, unpreâ€" tending souls tound themselves suddenly the objects of an undreamt-of prodigality. Deli- cete silver paper parcels, baskets of exotic flowers, and ruby velvet cases appeared upon their breakfast-tables with Count Max Sta- rolyi‘s coroneted cards and “ respectful hom- ages.” At first people thought they ought really not to accept. One or two efforts were made to express these doubts to the generous nobleman. But they evidently caused in him such a mournful perplexity, they were so clearly both inexplicable and painful to him, that it was felt to be impossible to proceed. Public opinion gradually pronounced itself in favor of keeping the presents. “What would be very odd in an Englishman was only nat~ ural in a foreigner,” people said. Hungar- a.ns,too,were known to have habits of the ut- most splendor. The example of Prince Es- terhazy was quoted by somebody who re- membered to have seen him. This settled the matter. Consciences were thenceforth at peace, and Starolyi moved in the midst of adoration and applause. Meanwhile, his attentions to Dora Morton, the acknowledged belle of Farnleigh, became extremely marked. Amid no little heart- burning, the conviction gained ground that this young lady must soon be asked to adorn the brilliant society of Vienna. She herself was probably not much astonished at her impending good fortune, but she was exceed- ingly gratified at it. In the first flush of a triumph so intoxicating, it was hardly to be wondered at if she thought but lightly of her aunt’s objections, and troubled herself less about the feelings of Arthur Lestrange. The young man in question was usually considered a very fortunate person. It is true he had but a few hundreds a year of his own ; but, on the other hand, he was the ac- knowledged heir of his uncle, who had twice as many thousands. This uncle, Sir Edward Lestrange, was the county magnate. He and Lady Lestrange adored their nephew, and had always encouraged him in idleness, so as to have him as much with them as possible. Fortunately for himself, Arthur Lestrange had very good brains ; and though he had chosen no profession, he cultiva- ted literature for his own amuse- ment. This kept him employed, and saved him from utterly wasting his youth while he waited for the rent-roll that Was one day to be his. Lately, indeed, he had shown signs of wooing the Muses with more seriousness of purpose than anybody had deemed likely ; and, in a recent dramatic production, he had achieved a quite unusual measure of success. Immediately on this, he had come down to Famleigh, and, for the second time within a year, had laid his name and his prospects at Dora Morton’s feet. Not only did he meet with a fresh repulse, but the general voice, in coupling Miss Morton’s name with that of the “Charming Count,” convinced him of the use- lelsness of further pursuit. Three or four days passed, and Arthur Lestmnge had time, if not to recover from, at any rate to succeed in conéealing, the first bit- terness of his disapnointment, Mrs. Damer was still in expectation of her answer from the Consul. Dora was still hugging the thought of her imminent delight in announ- cing her engagement to all her friends. “You talk of days, but it appears to me that I am waiting ages to own youâ€"my treas- ure,” murmured Starolyi to her one evening when, at a dance at the Straceys, the lovers sat apart in the friendly privacy of the con- servatory. 7 7 “Dear Max,” said the girl, ardently. “I also feel that I should belong to you more en- tirely if I could proclaim to all the world that I am yours. But my promise to my aunt binds me to secresy for a few days more.” “Why ?” whispered Statolyi discontentedly. He had not a particularly musical voice, and perhaps because of this always spoke in a. very low tone to women. “Why ?" 7 , Dora blushed, hesitated, 'picked a flower in her bouquet to pieces, and finally said frankly : “I do not see why I should not tell you, for you are too kind and too just to mistake my aunt’s motives." N The Hungarian raised his eyebrows at this exordium, and looked a little pneasy. “Well." said Dora, plunging desperately into her subject. “the truth is, my aunt is a. little mistrustful of Mt. Stracey's enthusiasm ; and though she likes your very much”â€"â€"(Ohl Dom, was this quite the case ?)â€"“she cannot be satisfied as to your prospects, and so on, until she has had a little more information about them.” “But I am willing to give all the informa- tion which she desires,” Said Starolyi, with an air of great dignity. “My private papers, my cheque-book, the letters from my agents, the plans of my property-23.“ are at. her ser- vice." “Of course, of course, I know,” stammered Dora, already repentant and ovemwed. “She has but to speakâ€"to ask,” continued the gentleman, in a still more injured tone. “This English prudence is, I confess, a little strange to me ; in Hungary we manage things diflerently ; aspersions are not cast upon the honor of a nobleman. But here, where I am a strangerâ€"” “Dearest, please say no more I” broke in Dora, now thoroughly dismayed. “I was wrong to tell you. I have hurt your feelings." “You can never hurt my feelings.” was the tender reply. “What pain; me is that your aunt should not have spoken to me. Has she, then, been cross-questioning Stracey?" “'Noâ€"â€"'oâ€"not Stra‘cey,” saia Dorafin agony. _.__. . m. .. ~ ‘ ‘ 7“)"Whom, then ?” questioned her lover, in so sharp and angry a tone that she looked up at him quite startled. His face did not re- assure her ; he was livid, and his eyes sparkled with just indigqa’gion. -.. Then, as she rose suddenly to her feet. a little affronted now as well as frightened, he hastily took her hand, and, in a softened tone, said, “Pardon me, my darling I I have alarmed you, without meaning it. But all these delays and scruples are intolerable to a nature like mine. And when one lovesâ€"as I loveâ€"one fears a shadow.” He had also risen and now, putting his arm round Dora’s slender waist, he drew her gently to him, while he said in his most loving whisper : “To lose you would be intolerable. Tell me. than, just to appease my vain fearsâ€"to whom did Madame Damer write ?" “To the English Consul at Pesth," said Dora, nestling to his side and glancing up at him now with laughing eyes. She had ex- pected to see him look relieved, to smile and, perhaps, to forget all annoyance in the temptâ€" ing vicinity of her pretty head. But to her surprise, and to her fresh alarm. a muttered execration escaped him, and his arm tight- ened round her like a vice. She positively gasped with the pain of the pressure, and cried “Max 1” in a faint voice of suffering and fear. He released her then at once, said coldly: “Another time I shall know what treatment to expect from an English lady,” bowed and marched out of the conservatory. The next moment he was waltzing with Clarice Ferretsâ€"a. piquant little brunette, and Dora’s particular rival. RICHMOND HILL, THURSDAY, AUGUST 12, 1880. “I Amused, and rather angry herself now, Dora also left. the conservatory, and sat down in the nearest vacant chair. She was too in- capable of a doubt as regarded her lover to at- tach much importance to the agitation which he had just displayed. She supposed that also was “foreign”â€"like Esterhazy’s dia- monds. Her predominant preoccupation consequently was to appear indifierent to his desertion. She fanned herself and secretly hoped that somebody very nice would immed- iately invite her to dance. A momentary diversion in the current of her thoughts was suddenly caused by the en- trance of Arthur Leetrange. They had not met since the day when she had rejected his hand ; and if she had remembered him in the interval it had been to imagine him in a con- dition of sentimental despair. She exper- ienced, consequently, a slight shock of disap- pointment on seeing him walk in. perfectly cool and collected, with no outward signs of disappointment. Although not exactly hand- some, he was intelligent-looking. self-possessâ€" ed, and agreeable, and had the mellowest, most sympathetic voice in the world. On perceiving Dora, he moved towards her, leisurely treading his way among the dancers and dextrously dodging the whirling trains of the ladies. He stopped to shake hands with several people on the way, and, on reaching his cruel fair one at last, addressed her gently but quite calmly. Considerably nettled Dom could think nothing more brilliant or more gracious say than: “Still here! Mr. Leatmnge. thought you had returngd to London.” “I go tomorrow. Miss Morton. I have nothing to keep me here now that my aunt has set all minds at rest.” Lestrange as he spoke had an odd little smile which wbuld have puzzled his companion had her head not been so full of her own affairs. "V‘Yhu are very late." remarked Dom next, thinking While she spoke that it would be better to dance with him that with nobody: “I have only looked in for a moment be- cause Mrs. Stracey made me promise to do so. There is Stracey himself. I must go andâ€"Who is that ?” exclaimed Lestmnge, breaking 01‘1” in his speech, and staring at a. couple 1n front of him with all his might. - 1 “That? You are somewhat vague," said Dora. “Of course I don’t mean Miss Ferrers. I know her quite well. I allude to the man with her.” “That is Count Starolyi." “By Jove l" ejaculated Lestrange with the utmost earnestness. And in a tremendous hurry he left Dora, and, seeking out his host, retired with him to a corner and subjected him to a. series of rapid, lowâ€"toned questions. Miss Morton, to the last degree irritated and astonished, began to think that everybody was going a little mad. Meanwhile the minutes passed, and Starolyi returned not to his allegiance. The aggrieved beauty was at last thankful to accept as a partner a small, red-faced officer, who stuttered at all times, and now, agitated by his unexpected success, became completely unintelligible. Arthur meanwhile had finished his conver- sation with Mr. Stracey, and. with a thought- ful air, approached Mrs. Damet. She re- ceived him with the most cordial kindness, and like her niece, remarked on the unexpect- edness of his presence. “As Ihave already told Miss Morton, I go to-morrow. And I had intended not to re- turn for three or four months ; but I shall probably come back in as many days,” was his answer. “Not on account of your aunt. I hope ‘2” “My aunt is all right. I was much aston- shed to learn just now that the gentleman with whom Miss Ferrets has been dancing is Count Starolyi.” “ I was afraid you had left Farnleigh, ” she said. “Strange to say, I had not, though I had heard of him often enough.” “I should think you had !” exclaimed the old lady, viciously. “I used to think the Athenians very unreasonable for ostracising Aristides ; but if they were half as 5in of his virtues as I am of Count Starolyi’s charms, I wonder they did not tie him up in a sack and drown him." “Had yofi not seen him before ‘2" asked Mrs. Damer in surgr}se_ y'ou mg. The energy of her manner made Lestrange smile. He was but human, though a very fine fellow ; and. nobody minds hearing a successful rival abused. “ The Hungarian appears to be no favorite of yours. May I ask why ?” “ I can guess it." sail Lestrange in lowered tones, and turning a little pale. “I would like to know, if you can conscientiously tell me, how matters stand with this man andâ€"â€" and your niece. I ask with no thought of mysglf.” ...... 1~1Ir 'r ,m‘; I n‘iistrust him," said Mrs. Damer, em- phatically agd confidentially. . 1- .71, I admire your pene'tration. I mis- trust him also. but pour cause,” answered Arthur. “ I am sure of that,” replied Mrs. Demer, feelingly. “Still, it pains me to have to tell you that my wilful Dora has engaged herself to him. She is only waiting to make the en- gagement public until I have heard from the Consul at Peeth, to whom I wrote for infor- mation as to Starolyi‘e real position. If you could tell me anythingâ€"anything that would serve as a. pretext for refusing my consent to the marriage. I would gladly avail myself of it. I believe the child’s vanity is more touched than her heart. At any rate, I hope so.” Lestmnge was silent, and Mrs. Damer glancing furtively, saw that the efifort it cost him to master his strong emotion for the moment precluded all possibility of speech. The answering pang in her own heart filled her eyes with tears ; and for a. few moments she also found nothing to say. “ Whatever the answer to your letter may be," remarked Lestrange at last, “I feel no doubt in my own mind that our friend here is not at all what he represents himself. At present, I am not at liberty to say more, for I have no actual proof. But in a. few days I shall return to Farnleigh, armed with infor- mation. In the meanwhile, my dear Mrs. Damer,” he wound up in quick, energentic tones‘ “I beseech you not to trust your niece out of your sight.” . -- 1‘ .n “Humph l " answered Mrs. Damer, with melancholy humor. “Considering the 8491- ity and caprices of my niece. the task you im- pose upon me, my friend.is neither materially nor mortally easy. But I will do my best.” “And so (will 1;”3aid the young mafiJiBing “And therewithâ€"good night I” “I cannotâ€"no, I cannot! Do not ask me, Max l Think of my poor aunt ! She has always been so good to me. Would you have me break her heart 7" Thus, Sobbing and imploring, spoke Dora to her lover about a week after the events re- counted in the preceding chapter. “I understand. You do not love me. You share Mrs. Damer’s insulting suspicions. You also wait for the answer from this Con- sul,” said Starolyi, disdainfully, and releasing his hands from the clinging grasp of the weeping girl. “I do love you. I believe every word you say to me. An angel from Heaven could not convince me that you were less than tender and true,” cried Dora, in despair at his accus- You do I” exclaimed Mrs. Damer,excited- “ Tell me your reasons, I beseech I have, alas, a. personal motive for ask- of ations, “but I cannot elope with you. Indeed â€"â€"indeedâ€"it is impossible. My old aunt; at this moment she is ill. The shock might kill her.” “Bah! as if anyone ever died of a. cold I Madame Damer, on learning that you were gone, would lose her appetite for breakfast, and recover it for dinner ; and, by the time you returned to her, would be ready to wel- come the Countess Starelyi with open arms.” H "But why cannot you {vait ‘3” firged Dora, wavering, bu§_not yet fully convinced. “I have told you. I am summoned back by the Emperor.” And Starolyi produced a grand, official-looking document, which his companion could not read, it being in Hunâ€" garian. “Wax may break out at any mo ment. I must return to the command of my troop. Would you have me not respond on the moment to my country’s call ‘2” “Oh. no, no l” said Dora, much afflicted, hiding her head upon his shoulder. Starolyi pressed her to his magnanimous heart, while he continued: “I may be wounded. even killed.” (Dora. shuddered.) “You have but small comprehension of love if you do not feel, without the need of words from me, what joy I should have in calling you mine ere we part, and in knowing that, if I fail, I shall at least; have left you mis- tress of my ancestral home, and owner of my name.” To be a widow at all is very sad; to be a soldier’s widow, while equally sad, is inter- esting; but to be a soldier’s widow and a Countess, is a. poetical form of desolation that was not likely to happen to many young ladies of Farnleigh. To do our warm-hearted and affectionate, if foolish, Dora justice, she clung to her lover with the feeling that to lose him would be a very crown of sorrow. At the same time, the romantic charm of the picture which he conjured up made it more difficult than ever for the inex- perienced and impulsive ’girl to resist his entreaties. Starolyi had announced that morning that he must leave on the spot for Vienna. At the same time, he sent Dora up to her aunt‘s room (Mrs. Damer was laid up with a most inopportune cold) to ask permission for an immediate marriage by special license. As maybe imagined Mrs Damer had promptly and absolutely refused. Through her con- fidential maid she sent a telegram to Arthur Lestrange, putting him in possession of the facts as they stood, and urging him to speed in his researches. A prey to anxiety, she listened for-every hell that might bring her news, and fretted cruelly at her own en- forced inaction The only thought which gave her any comfort was that of the impendâ€" ing arrival of her married niece, Mrs Cor- bett. This lady lived about thirty miles from Fainleigh, and Mrs. Damer, when forced to keep her room had written begging her to i come and watch over Dora. Diana Corbett had answered that her children were only just recovering from the measles, and she was about to accompany them into seas1de lodgings. She would only wait to settle them there, she added, and then take instant flight to Farnleigh. There she hoped to be on” Wednesdathhe next day t2) that on which we find Starolyi urging a wedding by special license. It is useless to repeat all tke arguments, alternately angry and impassioned, which the Hungarian used to overcome Dora’s re- sistance. Sufiice to say that he eventually extorted from her a promlse to join him in London on the following night. It was his own intention to leave Farnleigh immediâ€" ately, and he undertook to make all the necessary arrangements for the marriage to be celebrated “at the Austrian Embassy" on Thursday morning. The night of Wednesday Dora was to pass at the house of Starolyi’s greatest friendsâ€"a Baron and a Baroness attached to the Corps Diplomatique. Dora, bewildered by his fluency and awed by the general splendor of his projects. when she had once given her promise, had not the courage to withdraw it. Nevertheless, the tears she shed on bidding him adieu, when he went to pack his trunks and take leave of the Straceys, had their source far less in any emotion connected with him than in genuine remorse and terror. The thought of aban- doning her aunt in sickness positively wrung the girl’s heart. She passed a miserable night. and when her sister arrived next day, went forward to greet her with eyes so heavy and cheek so wan. that Mrs. Corbett gave acry of consternation. “ Good heavens ! child,” said the bonny bright woman, takingher sister into her arms, “you are the person I should have been sent for to nurse. it appears to me. But I suppose your malady is only sentimental.” Mrs. Corbett, with all a. happy married w0~ man’s interest in a love affair. was full of curiosity in regard to Starolyi ; tortured Dora with questions about him ; and was never tired of lamenting that she had arrived just one day too late to see him. “He might have waited to make the acquaintance of his future sister-in-law. Of course, I shall work with you, Dolly. to overcome Aunt Damer’s objections, and I hope that one day you will present me at the Court of Vienna as a re- ward for my services,”laughingly said Di,whom Mrs. Damer had not yet let into the secret of.Arthur Lestrange's hints, or her own sus- picious. . .1 .. r" I In the course of the afternoon came Clarice Ferrets to inquire after Mrs. Damer, call upon_ Mrs. Cprbett, and -talk about the Count. “ Such a dreadful loss ! We were so sorry to hear that he had to go. But of course the Emperor needs his services. We shall all miss himâ€"even you, Dora, for I think he used to come here occasionally,” said the bru- nette. “ He used to come every day,” answered Dora. with more aspegity than prudence. considerably taken aback. “ To inquire after Mrs. Damer, I suppose? He always said he liked her so much.” “ Did he ?” said Dora, rather astonished in her turn. “ He appears to have concealed his feelings with great success,” observed Di maliciously. Clarice surveyed them with a complacent smile. “ He was very reserved. I fancy forâ€" eigners often are. But he became latterly so intimate with â€"ah‘â€"us, that he confided to us all his feelings and all his plans.” “ Not all, I fancy,” said Mrs. Corbett, in- stinctively ranging herself on her sister’s side. “ For instance, you did not apparently know that he was going until he was gone." Miss Ferrers deigned to make no reply to this, and with an elaborate air of indifference, began to talk of something else. But when she was leaVing, she dropped afew more hints to Dora. on her way from the hall-door to the garden-gate. o “ It is nice weather now, is it not ? Are you thinking of going soon to the seaside 7â€"â€" We?â€"â€"0h l I really do not know yet what my mother and the children will do. I shall probglgly goabioafgl." W‘i‘With friends :5” repeatUOd Clarice. “Um ! â€"â€"well 1 with a friend at any rate. What lovely Cape jessamine Wand she plucked a spray. ‘r 1 “Put this geranium with it. May one ask the name of this mysterious friend ‘2 7’ asked Dora, playfully enough. But her fingers trembled a. little as she held out the scarlet blossom. “ With friends?” questioned Dora, in some amazement. People in Farnleighâ€"unlike the rest of the worldâ€"still considered ” going abroad” in the light of a great event. “Allin goodtime,my dear. At present I am bound to secrecy.” And with a light; 9907 laugh of triumph, Miss Ferrers brushed her soft cheek with her lips, and darted into the road. The shadows danced up and down Clarice’s slight figure as she walked, making odd, shifting patterns. now on the top of her linen sunshade. now on the flounces of her muslin dress. Dora stood there, her heart full of heavy doubt. She was a fool, she told herself, to pay any attention to Clarice’s words. The brunette was always hinting at her conquests. Max had naturally said that he hoped to meet her again, and on this slen- der foundation she had built up some hril- liant future. Dora felt angry, And this anger applied the fillip that was needed to her resolution. Starolyi had never been so indis- pensable to her happiness as now, when, for a moment, she had questioned his allegiance. She looked at her watch. It was pasti 5. In another half-hour the express left ; ‘ she must be quick if she wished to accom- plish her purpose. Her heart beating higher now with defiance than even with excite- ment, she hastily gained her room, and began her preparations. They were brief. She took from her writing-case the letter which she had already composed, to Di, with the intentlon of sending it by a messenger from the station ; thrust a few things into a bag, and with one sharp pang on passing her aunt’s closed door, she slipped down stairs, through the open door into the garden, and then set off running along the lonely road, at the pace of Orestes pursued by the Furies. The down-express from London arrived about 5, and, as the finer folk of Farnleigh were not much in the habit of travelling by night. the fugitive hoped to find the station nearly deâ€" serted. On arriving there, however, and tak- ing her ticket. a few words addressed by the station master to one of his subordinates revealed to her that something was amiss on the line. She presently received an explana~ tion, “You must have a few minutes’ patience. Miss. The down- -express is not yet in and the up train will consequently be a. little late in stai ting There has been a stoppage befere Swindonâ€"nothing serious, I think.” This was very unwelcome news to Dora. Her courage born of excitement was fast eb- bing, and she feared to meet, among the pas- sengers from London, some acquaintance who would be much astonished to find her starting at Such an hour and alone. When, at last. the train steamed and the tramp of feet along the platform followed, she cowered in her cor- ner like a hunted hare. Finally the steps ceased ; and Dora hoped that all the passen- gers had vanished. The bell for the depar- ture of the up-train rang, and she was feeling that, whatever was to happen now, she must make a rush for safety, when suddenly she reeollected that she had not sent her letter of explanation to Di! "Bristolâ€"Swindonâ€"change for London. Look sharp, miss ! You’ll be late.” exclaimed a guard t9 the ‘sAcare-zd‘agd flurried girl. . ”Oh please. '” cried Dora, in great distress, “you must wait a. minute, please. l I want a. messenger. See! here is a letter. It must be taken to Vine Lodge, directly, and glven into Mrs. Corbett’ s own hands. Not Mrs. Damer, mind, for the world.” “Cari I do your commission for you. 9” sud denly asked a. voice which could not have ter rifled Dom more if it had been the trump of doom. And there, at her elbow, puzzled and p1ofoundly astonished, stood Arthur Le- strange! “Where are you going?” he asked. as the giil mechanically put out her hand to him. mr‘i'VToâ€"â€"to London,” said Dora, floundering helplgssly igtojhe exagt fifuth. ‘ u m- “Thenâ€"” began Arthur, but h1oke off and glanced at the letter which she still held. He felt that he had no right to ques- tion her. “Time‘s up, miss. We can’t wait any longer, even for Miss Morton,” at this mo- ment interposed the station-master. Dora gave a gasp of despair. thrust the letter into the hand of the perplexed guard, and seized her bag. Lestmnge’s steady glance incensed her. She turned from him impatiently, made a dash for the firstclass carriage, sprang in, and sank down upon the cushions more dead than alive ! “She’s up to some mischief, and, by Jingo! I’ll go after her,” said Lestmnge to himself, and crying to a horrified and irate otfimal: “I will pay at Swindon l” he, too, reached a vacant compartment, and leaped in as the tram was already in motion. While being hurled along to Swindon, Lestrange had time to arrive at certain con- clusions, based upon Mrs. Damer’s telegram of the previous day, and a letter of fuller ex- planations which he had received from her that morning. His plan of action was conse- quently matured by the time that the train had arrived at the1uncti0n. Descending with precaution so as not to be seen by Dora, whom he easily dogged on the crowded plat- form, he hurried to the telegraph office and sent two dispatchesâ€"one to Mrs. Damer, to reassure her; another to London, Then he paid his fare, lighted a cigar, and entered a smoking carriage in a calmer frame of mind. Sitting well back he caught a fresh glimpse of Dora. as she hurried past, and a rush of tenderness swelled his heart at the sigh‘ of the pale little face and lovely figure. And, indeed, the poor girl was by this time in a pitiable frame of mind. The meeting with Lestrange had thoroughly unnerved her. The journey seemed eternal to her, exalted and Worn out with emotion as she was ; and when, finally, at midnight the train reached Paddington, and her eager eyes detected her lover in the crowd under the gas-lamps, she jumped out and ran to him like a panting stag to its refuge. 1 .. -n- “My brave darling!” exclaimed the Hun- garian; and with a. thrill of perhaps, the truest; feeling he had ever known, took Dora’ 5 icy-00151 trembling hands. in his. .1 n,,,,,,v, “William Ford, I arrest you in the Queen’s name,” said an easy voice behind him. Sta- rolyi started and turned with a livid face. A quiet-looking individual in plain clothes took him by the shoulder, and with a significant gesture, exhibited a slip of printed paper. Suddenly, as if they had risen from the ground, two constables appeared and pro- duced a pair of handcuffs. Arthu Ler- strange’s grave. pale countenance also dis- engaged itself from the surrounding crowd. And the “Count” knew that after many doublings and manifold escapes, in a moment of sweetest triumph, his fate had overtaken him, and he stood face to face at last with the avonging majesty of the law. WHOLE NO. 1,154.â€"â€"NO_ 11. v. . V._r,___o “Max what is this ? What do these men mean ? There is some mistake I" cried Dora, so bewildered that she only recovered her power of speech when the handcufis were already round the adventurer’s wrists. , V , “There is no mistake,” send Arthur, com- pagsionately, and drew nearer to her side. : n 11... She turned from him petulantly. How irritating he was! Of course there wasa mistake. T'Mgz} 1” she cried in a sharp tone of agony, and stretched out her hands as though to cling to him. . .. .x . “I must trouble you, madam," said the detective politely, and interposed his own arm‘between her and his prize. Max gave her one look ; a gleam of softer feeling broke for an instant the set rage of his face ; then he averted his head. and, without 9. word, moved slowly {way between his captors. Dora. darted forward to follow him. But quick as thought Lestrange was upon her steps, and seizing her absolutely in his arms, held her until the police and their prisoner were lost to sight in the throng. She became easy enough to manage after that, poor soul l for she lost consciousness, and. submitted to be half-led, half carried to a cab. Into this Arthur, giving an address to the cab-man, got with her. w -. ,a- “I am going to put you under my sister 3 care for the night ” he said kindly. “She is married and lives in Kensiugtoni’ The drive lasted a. good half hour, and dur- ing the whole of that time not an observation was exchanged. The lampligbts flashing occasionally upon Dora’s face showed her to Arthur with wide-open, tearless eyes whose despair made his heart ache. Once when his hand accidentally touched hers’ she withdrew from the contact with a. quick movement that spoke of resentment. And when the cab stopped at last, and Lestrange would have helped her to descend, she brushed his prof- fered arm aside and walked into the house befare him with a stately step and erect head. Their arrival, of course, excited great sur- prise; but. fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Court- enay had been giving a party, and conse- quently were but just thinking of going to bed. Arthur’s sister-Wh’) was very like himâ€"only required half a dozen whispered words before she grasped the entire situation, Her greeting to Dom was most cordial ; and Mr. Courtenay took the unexpected guest into the drawing-room, where, manfully bottling up his curiosity, he talked to her about the fineness of the night and kindred subjects of an inoffensive nature. Dora. was perfectly civil to him, but as cold as an iceberg. _ fiMiyilec') to my mom now ‘2” slié asked. rising abruptly .as Mrs. Courtenay and.her brother entered. “Certainly,” emswered the lady kindly, and escorted he; qpsfieirs: “ Good night I” said Dora, stopping short upon the threshold of the bedroom door. Her hostess probably comprehended all that there was of bitterness and shame in the proud young heart; for she had the tact not to press any attentions upon the girl, but just with a. wish that she might sleep well. turned away and left her as quickly as she could. Then Dora. locked the door, and flinging herself upon the bed, gave vent in tears to the agony of humiliation. resentment and despair that for one interminable hour had filled her heart to bursting. . 1 “I cannot â€"cannot forgive you .9” cried Dora. passionately, next day to Lestrange. “You tell me he is unworthyâ€"an adven- turer, a. forget. I do not believe it 1 I must have some better proof than your assurances.” “ My assurances are based upon the revela- tions of Scotland Yard, unfortunately.” said Lestrange, with (at last 1) a touch of impa- tience in his tone. Dom shrank v1sibly. “ Scotland Yald is not infallible,” she said still bravely, but with a horrlble sickeningfeeling of despair and dis- gust in her heart. “ Dear Miss Morton,” said Lestrange. ear» neatly, “ do but believe how gladly I would speak a. word of hope to you, if I did not feel that; any false comfort now would only make your ultimate awakening the more bitter. In all this miserable business I have had but one thought, which was to save youâ€"1‘ m ”- u”. “n.0,, V. _H__ “ And to rum him,” burst 1n Dora excited~ 1y. “It 15 easy to evoke morality and public justice and many other highâ€" sounding aims which may serve as a. cloak for personal re- sentment. ” “ Enough," said Arthur, Inow thoroughly wounded, and rose from his seat. “The position of a rejected suitor is never very agreeable or every triumphant one, but it was left for me to learn, and for you, Miss Morton, to teach me that it might be made the occasion of intolerable insult. If it pleases you to consider me a sneak, that you may ex- alt Count Starnlyi into a. Victim, I must de- plore your resolution. but it would be beneath me to contest it. There is, however, one point which I should like you clearly to understandend which results from my altered position both towards you and towards the world.” VDora raised her tear- -staiued, and truth to te11,aomewhat shame- stricken face from her handkerchief anti listened to him now with a mournful, nascent curiosity. “ When I offered you my hand,” continued Arthur, in his low,steady tones, ”I considered myself the heir to great weaith. Two days ago I knew with certainty that these expecta- tions had vanished into thin air. Even had you honored me by accepting me, I should have regarded such a change in my prospects as a reasonable motive on your part for with- drawing your plighted word. And this de- claration should show you with how little hope of Winning you at any time for my Wife I interposed last night to save you, as I should have interposed to save the merest acquaintance. from a future of disgrace and ruin.” He took his hat â€" bowed â€" and left her. Left her roused for an instant from the contemplation of her own woes, startled. compassionate, remorseful and ashamed l But the humiliation of those first days fol- lowing Starolyi’s, or rather Ford’s arrest, was nothing compared to what Dora had to suffer after her return to Farnleigh. Her aunt, indeed, and the still dumbfoundered Mrs. Cor- bett welcomed the returned fugitive with the utmost kindness; and from the moment that they first received her again into their arms. they made not the smallest allusion to her escapade or its cause. But, as her attempted elopement had been kept a. profound secret, and her absence explained by a visit to a friend Dora could not escape wherever she went, from the intolerable suffering of hearing her late lover abused. For the news of his arrest travelled down to Farnleigh two days after his departure ; and the little town gradually awoke to the fact that it had nourished a viper in its bosom. Incredulity was the first sentiment. Like poor Dora, everybody said there must be a. mistake. An error of identity would account for the whole thing. Mm. Buffer explained that Arthur Lestrange, on meeting the advenâ€" turer at the Straceys’, had recognized him as a man whom he had known some two or three years previously in America. when he passed as the Honorable Mr. Grenville. Under this name he had enjoyed a brief but brilliant career, and had been within an ace of marrying the richest heiress in California. Of course, said Farnleigh, here was the solution of the whole mystery. Mr. Lestrange was responsible for having had an innocent man arrested, It was understood that he had found out in some odd way that the Count was to be at Paddington Station on a particular night and had communicated the fact to the police. They had, an hour pre- viously, discovered what they consulored the last link in the chain of evidence, and had hastened in consequence to effect the arrest. It was plain that the whole thing had been done in too great a hurry. The zeal of Scot- land Yard was easy to understand, but, really, Mr. Lestrange’sâ€"Farnleigh shook its head, and looked, not merely volumes, but a whole encyclopedia of unutterable things. Unfortunately, just about this time Mrs. Damer got her answer from the Consul, who apologized for his delay. He stated that there was indeed 9, Count Starolyi Whose age corres- ponded to that of the pretender, and Who had been for three years past shut up in a lunatic asylum in a remote corner of Hungary! The Consul added that this young nobleman. a few months before going mad, had been robbed by his secretaryâ€"an Englishmanâ€"who had levanted with a large sum of money, many of his employer’s private papers, and all his de- corations. This was a blow indeed! The pluckiest among the ladies apart; very law had the courage now to defend the too seductive stranger. â€"VBi1treveuu this remaining drop of consol- ation was denied at last to the cup of their bitterness. There was one general groan of rage and consternation when the bills for all the ele- gant gifts bestowed by the “Count” upon his hosts arrived from the county townâ€"ad- dressed to the presentees. The jewellers, florists, picture-sellers, and stationers, cross- questioned, exhibited the orders siven by “Starolyi” in the names of the persons whom he had delighted to honor. Then it was Wlth ' People looked mournfully at the soi- disant Hungarian’ s splendid presents. “Poor fellow â€"at least he was very generous,” said the most 1ndu1gent. ONTINQED ON FOURTH AGE]