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“You’ve nothing to do but to stay with me. Your business will not suffer?” she asked; and coloring crimson at this allusion to his business. Phil replied that it would not suffer very much from an absence of half aday or so, and that he was at her disposal. “Then I’ll interview Mrs. Jerry at once, and have dinner on the big piazza which overlooks the river and the meadows. That will make it seem some like Chateau des Fleurs. where we ate out doors half the time,” she said, as she disappeared from the room in quest of Mrs. Jerry, who heard with aston- ishment that dinner was to be servedupon the north piazza instead of in the dining-room. By Illr-.Mary .l. Holmes, author of “Tempest and Sunshine.” ” Ethelyn’s Mistake,“ “ Forrest House,” etc. .u. u; yum‘u" ‘_. .V... 7, But even a few hours experience had taught her that Miss Hetherton’a ways were not at all the ways to which she had been acoustom'» ed, and so she assented Without a. word, while Reinette went next to her room and trans- formed herself from an invalid in a wrapâ€" per into a most stylish and elegant young 1ady. .qu. 110w lovely she was, in her dress of dark- blue silk, with a Valenciennes sleeveless jacket, such as was then fashionable, her wavy curls, which were fastened at the back of her head with a, scarlet ribbon, while a knot of the same ribbon was worn at her throat. Phil had thought her bewitching even in her wrapper. with the wet napkin on her head, but when she tripped into the room in her new attire he started with surprise at the transformation in her. There was a bright flush on her cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars as they flashed smile after smile upon him. until he became so dazed and bewil- dered that he scarcely knew what he was doing. She had her sun-hat in her hand, and led him out into the grounds where she told him of the improvements she meant to make, and asked what he thought of them. Ilium-z, uuu aunvu "not. “v the”)... V- She should not change the general appear- ance of the house, she said. She should only add one or two bay-windows and balconies, and enlarge the north piazza. as she wished the rooms to remain as they were when her father lived there, but the park was to under- go a great change, and be modeled, as far as possible, alter the park at Chateau des Fleurs. There were to be more winding walks, and terraces. and plateaus of flowers, and foun- tains, and statuary gleaming among the ever- greens, and clumps of cedar trimmed and arranged into a labyrinth of little rooms, with seats and tables in them, and lamps susâ€" pended from the branches. But the crown- ing glory of the whole was tobe a. rustic sum. mar-house or open chalet, large enough to accommodate three or four sets of dancers, when she gave an outdoor fate, and to seat at least forty people at a breakfast or dinner. Her ideas were on a most magnificent scale, and P1111 listened to her breathlessly till she had finished, and then asked if she had any idea as to how much this would cost. “ A heap of money, of course,” she said, arching her eyebyiowe and nose 9. little, as she scented disappx‘obation ; “ but what of that ‘2 Father had lots of money, I know, and never denied me anything. What is money for, except to spend and let other people have a. good time? I mean to fill the house with company, summer and winter, and make life one grand holiday for them, and you must stay here most of the time and help me see to things, or would that interfere too much with your businessâ€"yourprofession '2“ Thié was the second time she had alluded to his business, and Phil’s cheeks were soar- let, and he was; conscious of a. feeling of shame inqthe presence of this active, energetic girl, who took it for granted that he must have some businessâ€"some profession. He could not tell her that he had none, and had she pressed the point, would have fallen back upon that two months trial in Mr. Beresford’s law oflice, when he started to have a. profes- nion ; but fortunately for him the dinner was announced, and they went together to the north piazza, where Reinette presided at one} end of the table, and he at the other. It was qiiiie ‘like housekeeping, Reinette said, and she made Phil promise to dine with her every _day winen hue was iii town. ,.,,,. :1 “ NotJalgéyéiére,” she said, “ but. around in different placesâ€"under the trees, in my new summer-house, which must .be built dirgptly, anfi‘ everywhere."’ 1 ,A- , "A .1:__I -1 u ....... JV..__.V She was the fiercest kind of a radical, al- ways seeking something new. and Phil felt intuitively that to follow her would be to lead a busy, fatiguing life, but he was ready for it ; ready for anything ; ready to jump into Lake Petit, if she said so, he thought a. little later, when he saw her in her riding habit,mounted upon the snow-white Margery, who held her neck so high, and stepped along so proudly, as if conscious of the graceful burden she bore. Reinette was a fine horsewoman, and sat the saddle and handled the reins perfectly, and she and Phil made quite a sensation as they galloped into town, with King in close attendance, for ‘Reinette had insisted that he should accompany them, as a kind of body guard. A t. ‘r n,,,,o,,,:l Their first call was upon Mr. Beresford, who came out and stood by Reinette‘s horse as he talked to her, marvelling at the change in this sparkling, brilliant creature, so differ- ent from the tearâ€"stained. swollen-eyed girl he had seen in the morning. She told him of her plans for improvements, which she meant to begin immediately, and which Phil had said would cost at least fifteen hundred dollars, but that did not matter. When she wanted a thing, she wanted it, and would Mr. Beresiord give her the money at once. as she had only two or three hundred dollars in her purse at home. She talked as if gold grew on bushes, and Mr. Beresiord listened to her aghast, for unless he advanced it himself, there were not fifteen hundred dollars for her in his possession. The repairs at Hether- ten Place had already cost enormously, and there were still debts waiting to be paid. Mr. Hetherton’s death would of course retard matters a little, but it was im- possible to refuse the eager, Winsome girl, whose eyes looked so straight into his own, and he promised to give her what she asked for, and said he had already written to Paris to Messrs. Polignac & (30., who he believed had charge of her father’s foreign business, adding that he should like the papers as soon as possible. .< . 1 ‘1 1 .u n, QUEENIE HETHERTON. -.__ __,,_I “I, too. am going to Write to Messrs. Polig- mm. to inquire for my old nurse, Christine Bodine. She knew my mother, and I mean to find her if she is alive." Reinette said he should have them the next day, and adgied: _ .. n ‘- " Not that it matters so much about find- ing her, as there is no doubt that my mother was Margaret Ferguson,” she said to Phil, as they rode off, “ and I am getting quite re- conciled to it now that I know you. Would you mind,” and she dropped her voice alittle, “ would you mind showing me the chimneys and cellar walls our grandfather built ? and the beer shop where mother sewed the pieces of cloth together, and sewed those shces and things ‘3” Phil could not show her the chimneys John Ferguson had built, for though there were these in- the town who often pointed them out when Mrs. Rossiter, his daughter, drove by in her handsome carriage. he didn’t know where there were, but he could show her the beer shop, as she termed it, though it bore no traces now of What it used to be. It was long and low, like many of the old New England houses, but it looked deliciously cool and pleasant under the tall elms, with its plots of grass, and its sweet, oldâ€" fashioned flowers in full bloom. “ Grand- ma. Ferguson, too, in her clean calico dress and white apron, with her hair combed smoothly back, madea different picture from what she did in the morning, with her wide ribbons and purple gloves. She was delight: 1 to see them, and took Reinette all over the house, from the parlor where she said Paul Rossiter and Fred Hetherton had courted their wives, to the room where Reinette’s mother used to sleep when she was a girl, and where the high-post bed she occupied, and the chair she used to sit in, were still standing. rfr‘MarSâ€"Ahnt’a Miss Rossiterâ€"wauted me to git some new furniture,” she said, as they stood in the quiet reom, “ and I could afford it as well as not, for your granfather left me pretty well off, with what Mary does for me ; but somehow it made Margaret seem nigher to me to have the things she used to handle and so I kep’ ’em, and sometimes when I am lonesome like for the days that are gone, and for my girl that is dead, I come up here and sit awhile and think I can see her just as she used to look when I waked her 1n the mornin’, and she lay there on that piller smilin’ at me like a fresh young rose, with her hair fallin’ over her pretty eyes; and then I cry and wish I had her back, though I know she’s so happy now, and some day 1 shall see her again, if I’m good, and I do try to do the best that I know how. Poor Maggie, dear little Maggie, dead way over the seas.” Grandma was talking more to herself than to Reinette, and the great tears were dropping from her dim old eyes, and her rough, red hands were tenderly patting the pillows, where she had so often seen the deer head of her child “dead way over the seas.” But to Rein- ette there was now no redness, or roughness about the hands, no coarseness about the woman, for all such minor things were for- gotten in that moment of perfect accord and sympathy, and Reinette’s tears fell like rain as she bent over the bands which had touched her mother. 7“ Blessed child," grandma said, “ I thank my God for sending you to me, and that you arggqod and true, {ik_e Margaret]: ‘ TBis was too mlich for theâ€"conscious-smitten Reinette, who burst out impulsivgly :_ “ I‘m not good; I’m not true; I’m bad and wicked as I can be, and I am going to confess it all here in mother’s room, hoping she can hear me, and know how sorry I am. I was proud and hot, and felt like fighting yesterday when I met you all, because it was so sudden, so different ; and this morning I rebelled again, and wanted to scream, but I’ll never do so‘again, and I’m going to make you so happy; and now. please, go away and leave me for a little While.” Grandma Ferguson understood her in part, and went out, leaving the girl alone in the low, humble room, which had been Margaret’s. Kneeling by the bed, and burying her face in the pillows, which seemed so scant);r and small, Reinette sobbed like a child as she asked forgiveness for all her proud rebellion against the grandmother whom in her heart she knew to be kind and loving. “ Humble me in any way, if that is neces- sary to make me love her as I ought,” she said, and in the after time when the great storm burst upon her she remembered that mention made in the lowly chamber where Margaret Ferguson once had prayed. and felt that it had been most terribly answered. But there was no shadow over her now; she had confessed to her grandmother; she had confessed to God, and she was going to con- fess to Phil. There was nothing more she could do, and as hers was an April nature, she was as bright and playful as a kitten when she went down the steep, narrow stairs, and bidding her grandmother good-v night. mounted her horse and started with Phil for Mrs. Lydia Fer- guson’s. They found that lady very hot and nervous over a dress which must be finished that night, and on which Anna was working very unwillingly, with her banged hair hang- ing over her eyes, and her dress tied back so tight that as she sat the tops of her boots were visible and a portion of her striped stockings. Through an open door Reinette caught a glimpse of a disorderly supperâ€"table, at which a man was sittingin his shirt sleeves, regaling himself with fried cakes and raw onions. “ Come, father,”Mrs. Lydia. called, in a loud, shrill voice, " hain‘t you done eatin’ yet ? Here’s Reinette, your neice. Rein- ette, this is your Uncle Tom, who is said to look enough 11ke your mother to have been her twin.” His face was pleasant, and his manner was kindly, as he shook hands with Reinette, and said he was glad to see her, and told her that she favored the Hethertons more than the Ferguson‘s but Reinette saw that he belonged to an entirely different world than her bwn, and after they had left “Uncle Tom’s” and were going over the house at the Knoll, she said to Phil that she felt as if she was back- sliding awfully. ”nun-.6 “n...“ . . “ Isn’t thefe a couplet,” she asked, “which runs thus : “ 'The de’il when sick a, saint would be, But when he got well, the de’il a saint was he.1 “Nowlamjust like that. Over at grand- mother’sI felt real goodâ€"as if I could be bad again? {and I never _w111 _to grandmother: I shall cultivate her, and make her caps, and fix her afiesssee, and coax her not to wear purple gloves. or call me Rennet. But oh, Phil, shall I be so wicked that I can never go to Heaven if I don’t rave over those other people ? They are so different from anything I ever saw before. Now, this suits me ; this is more like Chateau desFleur,s" she said, as she followed. Phil through the house until they came to his room, where, on the table, he found a telegram from his father, and which was as follows : “Come to up at once as I must go to Bos- ton on business, and your mother needs you. “ PAUL ROSSITEB, ” He read it aloud to Reinette, who exclaimed: “ I am so sorry.‘for now I shall be alone, and I meant to have you with me every (135:7: Phil was sorry, too, for the dark-eyed French girl had made sad havoc with his heart during the few hours he had known her. But there was no help for it ; he must go to his mother, andthe next morning, when the Springfield train, bound for Boston, left; Merrivale, it carried Phil with it on his way to Martha’s Vineyard. Mrs. Rossiter occupied the handsomet rooms at the Sea View House, and on the morning of Phil‘s arrival she lay on her couch by the window, occasionally looking out upon the water, but mostly with her eyes fixed fondly upon her handsome boy, who sat by her side fanning himself with his soft felt hat, and answering the numerous ques- tions of his sisters, Ethel and Grace â€"â€" ques- tions concerning Reinette, their new cousin, whose existence had taken them so by surâ€" prise. How did she look ? What was she like ? What did she wear? What did she say ? and who was to live with her in that great lonely house? Vw‘v‘vljgonr’rt hurifly a chap 90,” said Phil. “ There’s a lot to tell, and I’d better begin at the bggiqningt” _‘ So he described for them first the arrival at the station, where grandma and Aunt Lydia were waiting in their weeds, and Anna was gorgeous in her white muslin and long lace scarf, while he flourished with a diity face and torn, soiled pants. “ Oh, if you could have seen her face when we were presented to her as her ‘cousius, and her uncles, and her aunts !’ I tell you it was rich, the whole thing. I never saw such eyes in a. human being’s head as those which flashed first upon one and then on mother of her new relations." “ Dou you really mean she had never heard of us at all ?" both Ethel and Grace asked in the same breath, and Phil replied by telling them everything which had transpired since Reinette’a anival up to the time he had left her at her own door. A". except the quarrel and the kisses with which they had made up. That was some- thing to he kept to himself; but he dwelt much upon her sparkling beauty, which would not perhaps be called beauty in the strict sense of the word. Some might think her too small and too dark to be pretty,while others would object to her forehead as too low, and her nose at little retrousse, but to Phil, who had seen the rich warm color come and go on her clear olive cheeks, who had seen her dark eyes flash, and sparkle, and dance until her whole person seemed to shine and glow like some rare diamond, she was supremely beautiful, and he dwelt long upon her loveliness, and piquancy. and freshness. while his mother and sisters listened breath- lessly, but not as breethlesslv as the girl in the adjoining room, who sat making some DOWN BY THE SEA‘ CHAPTER XV changes in a dress Miss Ethel was to wear thaj. night £9 a hop in_the_ hotel. , The door between the two rooms was only slightly ajar, and Margery La Rue had not heard a word of the conversation between the brother and sisters until her ear caught the name of Reinctte, followed so soon by Hetherton and Paris. Then the work dropped from her hands, and a sudden pallor crept into her cheeks,which ordinarily were like the delicate roses of June. “ Beinette; Reinette Hetherton," she whispered. “ Is there another name like that in all the World. Is it my Reinette. the dearest, best friend I ever had? Impossi- ble, for what can she be doing here in America, in Merrivale, Where I have thought to go ‘.” There was a death-like faintness-in the heart of this girl. whose whisperedwords were in French, and were scarcely words so softly were they spoken. “ Reinette, Reinette l" she repeated, as with clasped hands. and head bent forward in the attitude of intense listening, she heard the whole story I’hil told, and laughed a little 1 to herself at the ludicrous description of the, Fergusons, and the impression they made upon the stranger. “ I can imagine just how cold, and haughty, and proud she grew, and how those great eyes blazed with scorn and incredulity, if it is my Reinette he means,” she thought ; “ but it cannot be. There is some mistake.“ Then, as the name Queenie was spoken, she half rose to her feet and laid both hands upon her mouth to force back the glad cry which sprang to her lips. “ Queenie! Queenie !” that settled it. There could be no longer a doubt. This foreigner, this girl from France, this cousin of the Rossiters â€" this near relation of the Fergusons, whoever they might be, was her Queenie, her friend, her darling, whom she loved with such devotion as few women have ever inspired in another. How she longed to rush into the next room and pour out question after question concern- l ing her friend ; but this she could not do ; ' she was only a seamstress, come to make isome changes in her patrons' dresses. She must remain quiet, for the present at least, for she did not know how the Rossiters would like her to claim acquaintance and friendship ‘ with their kinswoman. So she resumed her l work while the talk in the next room flowed ‘ on, always of Queenie, as they called her be- cause Phil did, and in whom the mother and ‘ sisters were so greatly interested. They had intended stopping at the seaside for the summer, but now they spoke of an earlier return to Merrivale on Queenie’s ac- count, :1 plan of which Phil highly approved, for he would far rather be at home than there where his services were needed for his mother, who, though much better, could only get out in her invalid chair, which Phil could manage so much better than asser- vent. “ And Anna 7 How is she ‘2” Ethel asked. " Does she take kindly to our cousin, or is she jezflgqs of he_r, as 9f pa ?" This mention of Anna reminded Phil of the Miss La Rue, who had Written to his aunt, and in whose identity with her friend Queenie had been so much interested. “ By the way,” he Said, “ there’s a. dress- maker here somewhere, a Margery La Rue, from Paris. whom Queenie thinks she knows, and over whom she goes into rhapsodies. Do you know her, and is she the person who wrote to Aunt Lydia with regard to her busi- ness ?” A warning “ sh-sh” came from both the young ladies, with a. nod toward the slightly open door, indicating that the person inquired for was there. Then the voices were lowered and the door was shut, and the wonder and interest increased as Ethel and Grace heard all which Reinette had said of their dress- maker, whose taste and skill they esteemed so highly that they had suggested her going to Merrivale, or rather they had encouraged it after the mother, Mrs. La Rue, had asked them if it would be a, good opening tor her daughter. That Margery had written to their aunt they did not know, for the girl was very reticent" conceming erself and her business. and onlyyspokewhe she was spoken tit. “It is very Slim 9 that she should know our cousin so well," the] said, " or that they should have been intimate enough for Queenie to rave over her as Phil says she (1085. I mean to sound her on the subject, and hear what she has to say,” and as it was time for Mrs. Rossiter to take her airing, the confer- ence broke up, and on pretext of seeing to her dress Ethel went into the room where Mar- gery now set sewing as quietly and composed- ly as if she had never heard of Queenie Heth- erton. She was a tall beautiful blonde with reddish golden hair, and lustrous blue eyes shaded with long curling eyelashes and heavy eye- brows. which made them seem darker than they really were. The features were finely cut and perfectly regular, and the whole face and figure were of that refined, delicate type supposed to belong to the upper classes in whose veins the purest of patrician blood is flowing. She said she was twenty-one, but she seemed older, on account of the air of in- dependence and self-reliance in her manner, like that of a person accustomed to care and think for herself. She had come to America the April previous and stopped at Martha’s Vineyard with her mother, who was as unlike her as it is possible for a mother to be unlike her daughter. Short, and stout, and dark, Mrs. La Rue was a fair representation of the ordinary French woman, with some signs of culture and education in her manner. In her early girlhood she must have been very pretty and attractive, with her bright complexion and large black eyes, which had not yet lost their brilliancy, though there was in them a sad, brooding expression, as if she were continual- ly haunted with some bitter memory. It was she \ilho had been most anxious about Merrivale. and Miss Ethel, who was prouder and more reserved than her sister Grace, had thought her very forward and quite too familiar in her questioninge of the place and its people. Margery had been inâ€" troduced to the Misses Rossiter by a friend from Boston who had employed her in Paris, but, occupied as they were with their mother and the gay world around them, they had hardly thought whether she were unusually pretty or not, until Phil electrified them with the news that she was the friend of their cousin, who said she was beautiful. During the last ten minutes Margery’s thoughts had been travelling back over the past to the early days of her childhood, when her home was on the upper floor of a dilapi- dated dwelling in the Rue St. Honore, where her days were passed in loneliness, except for the companionship of a cat and her play- things, of which she had a great abundance. Her parents were poor, and her mother was busy all, day at a hair-dresser’s, going out early and coming home late. while her father worked she did not know where, and some- times it entered her little active brain that perhaps he did not work at all,for on the days when she went to walk, as she occasionally did with the woman who had the floor below, and who looked after and was kind to the lonely little girl in the attic, she often saw him lounging and drinking at a third-class cafe which they passed when her friend Lisette Vertueil had clothes to carry to her patrons, for Lisette was a laundress, and washed for many of the upper class. Sometimes, too, Margery heard her mother reproach her father for his indolence and thriftlessness, and then there Was always a quarrel, into which her name was dragged, though in what way she could not tell. She only knew that after these quarrels her mother was, if poseible, kinder to her than beforeâ€"potted her more, bought her more playthings, and said her prayers oftener in a little closet off from the living room. Her father, too, was kind toher in his rough offâ€"hand way, but she did not “ I’ll look at her now for myself,” Ethel thought, as she entered the room where Mar- gery sat sewing, with a deep flush on her cheek and a. bright, eager look in the blue eyes lifted respectfully but inquiringly to the face of her employer. CHAPTER XVI. MARGERY LA RUE. love him as she did her pretty mother, and when at last he died her grief for him, though violent at. first was short- lived and soon forgotten, as the griefs of children; are 1 Among the patrons of Lisette Vertueil was Mr. Hetherton, thereputed millionaire,whose elegant carriage and horses sometimes stood on the St. Honore while his housekeeper talked to Lisette of the garments she had brought to be washed for her little mistress, Miss Benzeneâ€"garments dainty enough for a princess to wear, and which Lisette took great pride in showing to her neighbors, as a kind of advertisement for herself. One morning when Margery was spending an hour or two with the luundress, helping to fold and lay away the clothes preparatory to being sent home, Lisette had shown her the lovely embroidered dresses, with the tucks and puffs and yards of real lace upon them, and told her of the little black-’eyed girl who lived so grandly, and who occasionally came there with her maid. and seemed so much like a playful but spitty kitten, in her quick, varying moods, from mirth to wrath and back again. “ Oh. how I Wish I was rich like her, and had such lovely dresses, and how I’d like to see her! Do you think she’d come up to our room sometime, if you asked her ?" Margery said, and Lisette replied that she did not know, but said she would try what she could do. Accordingly, the next time Reinette came to the laundry, in her scarlet hood and cloak, trimmed with white ermine and lined with quilted satin, Lisette told her of the little girl who lived on the floor above, and who was alone all day, with only her (1011 and cat to talk to, and who would like to see her. The cat and doll attracted Reinette quite as much as the little girl, and with the per- mission of her maid, who demurred at first, saying she did not knowhow her master would like his daughter’s going into such places, she was soon climbing the steep, narrow, but perâ€" fectly clean stairway which lead to Numero 40. Mr. La Rue had been home to lunch that day, and Margery, though scarcely nine years old, was clearing away the rem- nants of their plain repast, and brushing up the hearth, when the door was pushed softly open, and a pair of bright, laughing eyes looked at her from under the scarlet and er- mine, and a. sweet, birdJike voice said : ” Please, Margie, may I come in ? I am Reinette Hethertonâ€"Queenie, papa calls me, and I like that best. Lisette said yeu lived up here all alone with only the eat. Where is she? I don’t see her." Margery was standing before the fire,broom in hand, with a long, sleeved apron on, which came to her feet and concealed her dress en- tirely, while her hair was hidden in n cap she always wore at her work. At the sound of Reinette’s voice she started suddenly, and dropping her broom, gazed openmouthed at the vision of loveliness addressing her so familiarly. The mentlon of the cat struck chord of sympathy, and she replied at once ; “ She isn’t she; she’s he, and his name is Jacque. There he is, under father’s chair.” and the two girls bumped their heads to- gether as they stooped at the same moment to capture the cat, who was soon purring in Reinette‘s lap, as she sat before the fire, with Margery on the floor beside her, admir- ing her bright, sparkling face and beautiful dress. “ I’ve nothing half so pretty as this,” Mar- gery said, despondingly, as she touched the scarlet cloak. “ My best coat is plaid, and I only wear it on Sundays.” ” Oh, my !" Reinette replied, with a, great air of self-importance, and tossing her head a little ; “I have three more. One is velvet lined with rose-color, which I wear to church when I go, and when I drive with pa. in the Bais. Do you ever go there,or on the Champs d’ Elysee: ?” 7‘ Then you shall be. I’ll make Clineâ€" thag' s maidâ€"take us this very afternoon. The're’ll be a crowd and it will be push fun ! But why do you Wear that big apron and cap. V â€"fl1ey disfigqre yep so. " -V “ I walk there sometimes on Sunday with mother, but I was never in a real carriage in my life,” was Margery’s reply, and Reinette rejoined : Margery blushed scarlet, and explained that she wore them at Work to keep her clothes clean ; then divesting herself of the obnoxious garments, she shook down her rippling hair, and steed up before Reinette, who exclaimed: “ How sweet you are, with that bright sunny hair and those lovely blue eyes! I wish mine were blue. I hate ’emâ€"the nasty old things, so black and so vixenish, Cline says, when I’m mad, as I am more than half the time. But, tell me, do you really live here alone with the cat ?” “ Oh, no.” And in a few words Margery explained her mode of life, which to the pampered child of luxury seemed desolate in the extreme. “Oh, that’s dreadful l” she said ; “and I’m so sorry for you ! You ought to see our apartments at the Hotel Maurice. They are just lovely I and Chateau dos Fleurs, our country home, is prettier than the Tuileriesâ€" the grounds, I mean,and most as pretty as Versailles.” Margery listened with rapt attention to Reinette’s description of her beautiful home, and then, as Reinette said something of her father being an American, she suddenly in- terrupted her with : “Can you speak English ‘3" “Of course I can,” said Reinette. “I always speak it with papa, who wishes me to know it as well as French. Mamma was English, and died at Rome when I was born, and I go to an English school on line d’Antin, and when papa is away in Switzerland or Russia, as he is a great deal, I board at the school, and have such fun, because they don’t dare touch me, papa is so rich.” “Oh, if I could only go to that school ! I want to speak English more than anything in the world, and mother wishes me to learn it, too, and says I shall, by and by, when she can afford it. She speaks it a very little,” Mar- gery said ; and, after a moment, Reinette replied: __ “I’ll tell you what I’m going to ,do. Pap ‘ has more money than he knows What to d_ with, and I mean to tease him and tease him till he gives me some money for you, and you shall go to that school with me ; only you must do everything I say. You must be my little - littleâ€" ‘fsg’ they call them at boys’ schools in England. Papa told me about it, and they treat them mean sometimes, but 1 shall not do that to youf’ “ 0h, Ill be thatâ€"what did you call it ‘2 I’ll be anything, do anything, if I can only go, and I’ll tell mother to-night !” Margery exclaimed, feeling an unbounded faith in Reinette’s ability to accomplish anything. Celine knew better than to oppose the im- perious child when in this mood, and besides there was something very winning and attrac- tive in the bright-haired, blue-eyed little girl, whose dress, though plain, was becoming and faultlesely clean. She certainly was no ordin» my child, and that beautiml face would not disgrace the carriage. So Celine consented, and with joy beaming in every feature Mar- gery brought out her plaid cloak and hood, which presented so striking a contrast to the rich scarlet one of Reinette that she drew back at once, and with swimming eyes and quivering lip said to Celine : Nor was her faith at all shaken when, a few minutes later, Reinette’s smart maid, Celine, came up the stairs after her little mis- tress, who horrified her with the announce- ment that she meant to take her new friend for a drive in the Champs d’Elysees. “ I shall ; I will,” she said, as Celine pro- tested against it. “ I like her, and she’s never been in a, carriage in her life, and she stays here all day with the cat. and washes the dishes, and she’s going to ride with me and I’ll spit and bite, if you don’t let her.” “ You are right. I must not go. I’m so shabby beside her. She would be ashamed, and that I could not bear. Oh, I wish I was her and she me, just for onceâ€"wish I I could wear a scarlet cloak, and see how it seemed.” “ You shall ! you shall l” Reinette cried with great tears in her eves. too. “You shall know how it seems. We’ll make believe you are papa’s little girl, and I am Margery,” and before Celine could divine her intentions she was removing her dainty scarlet:elouk and hood, and trying them on Margery, who was too much astonished to resist, but stood perfectly still, while Reinette wrapped the ermine, and satin, and merino around her, and put the plaid cloak and hood upon:her- self. " Oh, how lovely you are,“ she said, gazing admiringly at the child, “ and how ugly I am in this plaid. Nobody will know but What you are really pope’s little girl, Queenie Hetherton, and I am Margery," and she dragged the bewildered Margery down the stairs, through the court, where the old concierge stared wonderingly at them, and out into the street, where at a corner the Hetherton carriage was waiting. ‘Reinette gave Margery the seat of honor, and then sat down beside her, looking some- what like a dowdy bit of humanity in the plain plaid cloak, with the large hood hiding her face. But she enjoyed it immensely, playing that she was Margery, and bade the coachman drive straight to the Champs d‘Elysees, and as far out as the Arch of Triumph. It was a lovely winter afternoon, andflall the American and English, with many of the Parisians, were out, making the Champs d’Elysees and the Bois beyond seem like a brilliant procession of gayly-dressed people and splendid equipages. And among the letter none was handsomer or more noticeâ€" able than the finely-stepping bays and elegant carriage of Mr. Hetherton. in which Margery sat making believe that she was Queenie, and enjoying all as much as if she had really been the daughter of the millionaire, instead of humble Margery La Rue, whose mother was a hair-dresser and whose father was a no- thing. How happy she was, and how in after years that winter afternoon when she rode in the Champs d’ Elysees in borrowed plumes stood out before her as the bright spot- in her life from which dated all the sunshine and all the sorrow too. which ever came to her. Nor was it hard for her in the least to go back to the humble lodgingsâ€"to give up the scarlet cloak, and be Margery again. for she had so much now to think of ; so much to tell her mother, whom she found waiting at the head of the narrow stairs, with a white, scared look on her face, and an eager, wistful expression in her eyes which seemed to look past Mar- gery, down the dark-stairway, as if in quest of some one else. “ 0h, mother,” Margery cried. “ you are home early tonight, and I am so happy. Heaven can never be any brighter than this afternoon has been to me, playing that I was Mr. Hetherton’s little girl, and wearing her scarlet cloak.” She was in the room by this time, taking off her own plaid. coat, which she had put on in the court below, and talking so fast that she did not see the pallor on her mother’s face, or how tightly her hands clinched the back of the chair as she stood looking at her. Mrs. La Rue had been dilmissed by her employer earlier than usual, and finding Mar- gery gone, had been to Lisette’sroom to make inquiries for her. " Are you sick ?” Lisette asked, as Mrs. La. Rue dropped suddenly into a chair when she heard where Margery had gone and with Whom. “ You look as if you had seen a ghost.” Making an excuse that she was tired, and not feeling quite as well as usual, Mrs. La Lue aoon went back to her own apartment, and kneeling down by the wooden chair be- fore the fire, c1ied bittelly. as people only cry when some g1eat w1ong done In the past or some terrible mommy which theyhad thought dead and bu1ied forevel rises suddenly from its grave and confronts them with all the olden horror. “ Reinette and Margery together, side by side 1” she said. ”Oh, if I could see itâ€"see her ; but no, I have promised and must keep my vow. I dare not break it. I swore it by Heaven and the cross. For a long time she lay with her head upon the chair, and then remembering that Mar- gery would soon be coming home and must n'pt find her thus, she arose, and wiping the tear-stains from her face, busied herself with preparations for the evening meal until she heard upon the stairs the bounding step which always sent a thrill of joy to her heart, for whatever Mrs. La Rue might have been in the past, whatever wrong she might have been a party to. and whatever she was now, she was wholly unselfish in her love for Marâ€" gery, for whom she would at any time have given her own life. And well might she love the beautiful child whose presence brightened their humble home as sunshine brightens the November sky. and who came "dancing in with her blue eyes shining like stars and her cheeks glowing with excitement, as she talked of the wonderful things she had seen, and of Queenie, “who," she said, “acted as if I was just as good as she, and her father se rich, too, with such a lovely chateau, and she was just like a picture, as she set talking to me in this hard old chair,” and she indicated the one by which her mother had knelt, and on which the tears were scarcely yet dried T‘This one? Did she sit inâ€"this one?" Mrs. La Rue asked. eagerly, laying her hand car- essingly on the chair where Queenie Hetherâ€" ton had sat in her scarlet cloak and talked to Margery. A . “And what is the very best of all,” Margery continued, “she goes to an English school, and when I told her how much I wanted to learn English, she said she’d tease her father for money to pay for me, too; and she knew she’d get it, for he gives her everything she wants. Oh, I do hope he will. I mean to ask God to-night to make him. Lisette says I must ask for what I want, and Jesus will hear and answer. Do you think lie will ‘2 Does he answer you ?” “Oh, Margery, Margery, I never pray. I am too wicked, too bad. God would not hear me, but he will you ; so pray, child, pray," Mrs. La Rue replied, and seizing the little girl, she hugged her passionately, and mining kisses upon her forehead and lips, re- leased her suddenly, and turned quickly away to hide her anguish from her. . Mrs. La Rue was not a religious woman. She did not believe in much of anything ex- cept that there was a. God, and that a vow must not be broken, but she taught Margery her prayers and to read theBible, and encour- aged her to be much with old Lisette, who had lived a year in London, and become a zealous Methodist. But {or herself she never prayed, and still, when later in the evening she saw Margery kneeling by her little bed, and knew that she was asking Him to make Mr. Hetherton give Queenie the money which would send her to school, she whispered to herself : QUEENI’E AND MARGERY. At the same hour when Margery La Rue was praying by her bedside in the humble apartment in Rue St, Honore, Mr. Hetherton sat in his handsome salon at the Hotel Meur- ice, smoking his after-dinner cigar, and 0c casionally reading a. page Or two in the book on the table beside him. He was a very handsome man in his middle ageâ€"handsomer even than he had been in his youth, for there was about him now a style and elegance of manner which attracted attention from every one. And yet he was not popular, and had no intimate friends. He was too reserved and uncommunicative for that, and people called him proud, and haughty. and misan- thropical. That he was not happy was evi- dent from the shadow always on his faceâ€" the shadow it would seem of remorse, as if some haunting memory were ever present with him, marring every joy. Even Reinette, whom he idolized, had no power to chase away that brooding shadow ; on the contrary, a close observer would have said that it was darkest when she caressed him most, and when her manner was most bewitching. Sometimes when she climbed into his lap, and. winding her arms around his neck, laid her soft. warm cheek against his, and told him he was the best and dearest father in the world, and asked him of her mother who died, he would spring up suddenly, and pushing her from him, exclalm, as he walked rapidly up and down the room : “Please, God, do it. Please answer her." CHAPTER XVII. “ Child you don’t know what you are say- ing. I am not good I am very far from being good,but she wasâ€"my Margaret. Oh, Queenie, be like her if you can ‘." On these occasions Queenie would steal away into a corner, and with her bright, curi- ous eyes watch him till the moed was over, and then stealing up to him again would nestle closer to him and half-timidly stroke his forehead and hair with her little fat hand and tell him no matter how bad he was she loved him just the same, and should forever and ever. Queenie was the very apple of his eye, the sun of his existence. and he lavished , upon her all the love of which a strong nature is capable. Queenie could do any- thing with him, and approach him in all sorts of times and places, and so as he sat alone with his cigar, as he liked best to be in the evening, he was not greatly surprised when the door opened softly and a pair of roguish black eyes looked in upon him for an in- stantâ€"then a little white-robed figure in its night toilet crossed the floor swiftly, and springing into his lap began to pat his face, and kiss his lips, and write words~ upon his forehead for him to guess. This was one of the child’s favorite pastimes since she had learned to write, and she had great fun with her father making him guess the words she traced upon his brow. But he could not do it now until she helped him to the first three letters, when he made out the name of Mar- gery, and felt himself grow suddenly faint and cold, for that was the pet name he had sometimes given his wife in the early days of their acquaintance and married life, when he loved her or thought he did. But how did Queenie know it ? How came she by that name which burned into his forehead like letters of fire and carried him back to the meadows, and hills and shadowy woods of Merrivale, where a blue-eyed, golden-haired girl had walked with him hand in hand, and whom he had called Margery. ‘7‘ Guess now what’s Her , name and who shois 7” Queenie said, holding his face be» tween her hands, and looking straight into his eye§._ W‘V‘Margery is the name." he said and his voice trambled a little. “But who is she ‘2” And then the story came out. Of the little girl who lived alone all day with the cat on the 11001 of a tenement- house, in Rue St. Honore, and who wanted so badly to go to) school, but could not because her mother was peer and had no money to send her. “But you have,” Queenie continued : “you have more than you know what to do with, people say, and I want you to give me some- for her, because I like herâ€"I don’t know why exactly, only I do, and did the first min- ute I saw her. I felt as if I wanted to hug her hard~as if she belonged to me ; and you’ll do it, pupa, I know you will ! You’ll send little Margery La. Rue to the same school with me and she’s to be my tag, as the boys are at Eton.” This last remark provoked a smile from Mr. Hetherton, who asked numerous questions concerning his daughter’s acquaintance with Margery La Rue the child of a hair-dresser, and expressed his displeasure with Celine~for having taken her to such places. “Y5u are never to go-there again, under any circumstances,“ he said, and Reinette replied nEOmPPJy- “Yes. I shall. I’ll runaway every day and go there, and to worse places. too. I’ll go the Jardin Mabille, if you don‘t give me the money for Margery, and if you do I’ll prom- ise never to go there again â€"only Celine shall go for her to ride with me. I’m bound to do that I" And so she gained her point, and the next day Celine was sent to Lisette to make inquir- ies concerning Mrs. La. Rue. As these in- quiries proved satisfactory, arrangements were made with the principal of the English school to receive little Margery as a. day pupil at half pay, in consideration of her perform- ing acme menial service in the school-room, by way of dusting the desks and putting the books in order after school was over. This plan was the result of Mr. Hetherton’s great pride, for though willing to pay for Margeay’s education to please Reinette, he was not will- ing to put her on a footing with his daughter, and thought, by making hers. kind of servant, to place a. gulf between them. for he knew that in some respects Queenie was prouder than himself. But in this instance his project failed, for from the day when Margery became a. pupil in the English school, Reinette was her avowed champion and sworn friend, and though at times she tyrenuized over her, and literally made her a fag. she petted and ca- ressed her, and stood by her always, and fought for her sometimes when a few of the French girls sneeied at her position as duster of their books. And Margery in return was quite as de- voted to her friend, through whom a. new life was opened to her. Naturally quick to learn, and easier to retain than Reinette, she soon outstripped her in their studies, and was of great service to her in helping her to master her lessons, and acquit herself with a. tolera- ble degree of credit. But for Margery, who would go patiently l over the lesson time after time with her indoy lent friend, Queenie would often have been? in disgrace, for she was not particularly fond; of books. and lacked the application necesâ€" i sary to a thorough scholar. Once when she had committed a grave misdemeanor which‘ had been strictly forbidden on pain of heavy punishment, Margery was suspected and found guilty, and though she knew Queenie to be the culprit, she did not speak, but stood up bravely to receive the chastisement which was to be administered in the presence of the whole school, and was to be unusually severe as a warning to others. Margery was very pale as she took her place upon the platform, and held out her beautiful white arm and hand to the master, and her blue eyes glanced just once wistfully and pleadingly toward the corner where Queenie set, her own eyes shut. and her fists clenched tightly together until the first blow fell upon the innocent Margery. Then Swift as lightning she went to the res- cue, and before the astounded master knew what she was doing she had wrestled the ruler from him, and hurling it across the room, sprang into a chair. and had him by the col- lar, and even by the hair, while she cried out : “ You vile, nasty man. don’t you touch Margery again. If you do I’ll pull every hair out of your head. You might have known she didn’t do it. It was I, and I am nastier and viler than you, for I kept still just be» cause I was afraid to be hurt, and let her bear it for me. I am the guilty one. I did it, and she knew it, and never told. Beat me to a pumice if you want to. I deserve it ;” and jumping from the chair and crossing the floor, Queenie picked up the ruler, and giving it to the master, held out herlittlefat, dimpled hand for the punishment she merited. But by this time the entire school had become de- moralized, as it \vere,and the pupils thronged around their bewildered teacher, begging him to spare Queenie, who became almost as much a heroine as Margery, because that, notwithstanding her cowardice at the first, she had at the last shown so much genuine moral courage and nobleness. From that time onwaid Margery’ 3 good for- tune was seemed and when, at eighteen, she left the English school, Queenie stood by 1161 still, and got her a position as governess in an English family, who lived in Geneva, and then when Margery came home, and said she did not like the life of a. governess, as it de- prived her of all independence of action, and made her a mere block, subjecting her to in- sults from the sons of the house and guests Queenie wrote the whole transaction to her father, who was in Norway, and asked as a recompense to Margery she beinvited to spend the summer vacation at Chateau des Fleurs, where Queenie was going with Celine. To this Mr. Hetherton consented, and all the long, bright days of summer were spent by Margery at Chateau des Fleurs,which seemed to her like the new Jerusalem come down to earth before its time. Nothing could exceed Queenie’s devotion to her, and in her manner there was the difference. that where it had before been imperious and commanding, it was new humble in the extreme. for Queenie never forgot the great sacrifice her friend was ready to make for her, or her own coward- ice in thinking for a moment to allow it, of the family, Reinette, who knew her friend’s perfect taste in everything pertaining to a lady’s toilet, and the skill with whieh she fitted her own dresses. suggested that she should try dressmaking as an experiment, without the formality of regularly learning the trade, which would take so much rval‘u- able time, and in her case seemed unneces- sary. So Margery set up as an amateur in. the pleasant apartments in Rue de la Paix, where Mrs. La. Rue had lived since the death of her husband, which occurred during M&X‘!gery’s second year in school. " n,, mnv. L2,. OV‘J ~ .1 ~ ,, It would seem that Mr. La. Rue, with his indolent habits, nad been a. great draft upon his wife’s earnings, for, after he died, there was a. very perceptible change in her manner of living. Money was more plenty, and everything was on a larger, and freer scale, so that Margery’s home was now a very com- fortable one, especially after her wonderful skill in fitting, and perfect taste in trimming, and, more than all, the patronage of Miss Betherton began to attract people to her rooms. Now as in her school days, Reinette was her good angel, and. brought her more work. and paid her more money than any four of her other customers. Once, and only once,did Reinefie encounter Mrs. La Rue, who seemed rather to avoid than seek her, and that was on an occasion when she came m from the country. unex- pectedly, and found Margery busy with a. lady in the fitting-room. __. -_ .. . 1 “ Tell her that it is Miss Hetherton, and that I will wait," Reinette said to the small dark woman whom she found in the recep- tion-room, and whom she mistook for a. kind of upper servant. ” Miss Hetherton ! Reiuethe ! Margery’s Reinette l” the woman exclaimed, turning quickly and coming close to the young lady, whose pride rebelled at once at this familiar ity, and who assumed her htughtiest, moa- freezing manner, as she replied: “ She is my daughter, and I am Mrs. La Rue. I beg your pardon if I seemed rude, but you have been so kind to Margery. and I have so wished to see you. Don’t mind my looking at you this once, for I must. I must.” “I am Miss Hetherton. Yes; tell mistress I am here, at once.” All the blood had rushed to Mrs. La Rue’s face, which was almost purple, except the. lips, and these were ashen white, and her voice shook as she said : “ Deliver my message first, ” Reinette said. with the an of a. princess, for the woman a manner displeased her, and she could see no reason why she should stand them eta) 111;; so fixedly at her with that strange look in her glittering eyes as of one insane. At this command Mrs. La. Rue turned to leave the room, but are she went. she laid her hand on Reinette s tendelly, caressingly, as we touch the hands of those we love, and said: “ Excuse me, but I must touch you, must thank you. You need not tell your father, for I hear he is prouder than you, and he might forbid your coming here again.” So saying she left the room and did not return, nor did Reinette ever see her again, except on an occasion when she was driving with Margery in the Boil de Boulogne, and passed. her, sitting upon a bench beneath a shade tree. The recognition was mutual, but Rei- nette did not return the slight nod of the woman’s head, or pretend to see her, not- withstanding thet Margery exclaimed : “ There’s mother, way out there. She will have a long walk home l’.’ [To BE CONTINUEDJ A history of the German Theatre may be interesting to some. but as it will be in the German language it will scarcely take with English readers. =New editions of Gibbon, Hume and Macaulay are in vogue. The last-named is placed in rather doubtful company, for we scarcely think Macaulay was of the school of thé otlwr historians. Mr. Justin McCarthy is an industrious writer. He has concluded his “History of Our Own Times." bringing it down to the close of Lord Beaconsfield’s administration. The work has appeared in cheap form. VfiMr. VConwayfe‘n English oofrespondent of a New York paperâ€"the Tribune, We thinkâ€" has published a. work on demonology, and is writing articles for the English magazines on the same subject. _ _ Here is an exquisite sonnet, written by an old English poet : “ A Rose, as fmr as ever saw the Nm'th. Grew in 8. little garden all alone ; A sweeter flower (lid Nature ne’er put. forth, Nor fairer garden yet was never known. The maidens danced about it morn and noon, And learned bards of it their ditties made : The nimble fairies, by the pale-faced moon, Watered the root, and kissed. her prefity shade. But, welladey I the g, erener careless grew, The maids and fairies both were swept away, And in a, drought the caterpillars threw Themselves upon the bud andAevery spray. God shield the stock ! If heaven sends no sup- 7A new translation of the Koran, by Prof. Palmer, is to appear in Max Muller’s “Sacred Books of the East.” The published letters of Dr. Ruskin, the. great alt critic, are soon to appem in two volumes. Mr. James Russell Lowell, the American poet, has had the honor of being dome up in English edition. We cannot say the follow- ing extract is a plagiarism, but it bears a. very striking resemblance to the Well known limss by Byron : plies, The fairest bloasom of the garden dies‘ u"Loom look! that livid flash! And instantly follows t‘le thling thunder As if some (fiend _cra. i1; asunder, Fell, splintering with a. ruinous crush, On the Earth, which crouches in silence under ; And now nsolid gray well of min Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile ; For It breath’s space I see the blue wnml again, And, ere the next heart-bent, the windâ€"hurled pile, That seemed but now u league aloof, _ Bursts crackling o'er the sun-parched roof; Against the windows the storm comes dashing, ' Through tattered foliage the hail tours crashing. The blue lightning flashes, The rapid heil clashes, The white waves are tumbling, And, in one bellied roar, Like the toothless see mumbling A rock-bristled shore. The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling,â€" VVil] silence return never more .9“ â€"-The musical man of the New-York World avers that Fritz‘a famous "Lullaby” is a. phrase of Henri Reber's Bercanse for vio- lin and piano, op. 15. The Story of Lady Godiva and Peepin: Tom, which regaled English readers iox' can turies. turns out to be a myth, Coventrymhere Lady Godiva is said to have ridden through the streets naked, was not in existence at. the time the lady in question lived. rl‘he Christian Island lliglu-KI-cpcr on the Rugged Edge~Arreslml for Blu- amy. Getting married appears to be a simple and harmless amusement, but too much of it is pretty sure to land the enterprising prospec- tor after connubial bliss into a peck of trouble. On Thursday an oificer from Barrie went over to the Christain Island to interview John Hoar, the Government light-keeper, for whose arrest he hes a warrant. It appears Hoar married a blooming descendant of Eve in Penetanguishene some years ago. but the hearts of the newly married twain did not beat as one, and they soon parted. Subse. quently Hoar sent to England for his cousin, and on her arrival he lovingly placed her, by the aid of a person under his connubial wing, and all was serene joy within his palpitating breast. But wife No. 1 is now kicking up the dust, and the consequence is that a war- rant has been issued for the apprehension of Hoar on a charge of bigamy. “ Four Centuries ofEnglish Letters,” being selections from the correspondence at one hundred and fifty writers, has appeared under the editorship of Mr. W. B. Scoones. The letters extend from the time of the Peaton letters to the present day. The work is n pettect treasury, and contains some enter- taining letters from the leading authors of all ages. A HIUUII IVIARRIE I) JVIAN‘ SPECIAL COLUMN- your