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By Int-.1" nry J. flolmel, author of "Tempest and Sunshine." " Ethelyn’s Mistake," “ Forrest House,” etc. Margery had talked rapidly, and her blue eyes were almost black in her eagerness and excitement, while E‘hel listened to her in- tently, and thought how beautiful she was, and. wondered, too, when or where she had seen a (gee like the face of this fair French girl, whose accent was so pretty and whose manners were so perfect. » It was, possibly, a. gentle hint for Reinette to ask her to take the vacant seat opposite the two yeung ladies ; and if so, it was not noticed, and they passed swiftly on and left the woman sitting there alone, with swim- ming eyes, and a peculiar expression on her face, as she looked after the fast-receding car- riage. This was in October. and notlong after- ward Margery startled Reinette by telling her that she was going for the winter to Nice, and. possjbly to Rome. “ Mother has not seemedherself for several weeks,” she said, and 1 think she needs a change of air ; besides, I am most anxious to see Italy.” ..~x1 __ 7 ,“VW . And so,two weeks later the friends bade each other good-by, and after one or two letters had passed between them, Reinette note as follows : “ Come home, Margery â€"come back to Paris, where I can see you face to face, for I must not write you any more. Papa has for- bidden it. He says I have plenty to occupy my mind with music, and dancing,and society, without keeping up a promiscuous corres- pondence ; and when I told him you were my only correspondent. and you were not pro- miscuous, he said it did not matter, I was not to write even to you. I never saw him so decided about anything, and when I rebelled and grew angry, as you know I did, and said I would, he grew angrier, and said I shouldn’t ; and so I promised him that, this should be my last. But when you return I shall manage to see you again. So come at once, that‘s a dear old Margery. Paris is so stupid without you, and Madame Isaacs fits p16 horribly. _Come, Margery, come.” Bht Margery neither came nor wrote, and there was silence between the two friends, who knew nothing of each other’s wheres.- houts until each was startled to hear that. the other was in America. Such was; in part the history of Margery up to the day when Miss Ethel Rossiter en- tered the room where she was sewing, and after moving about a little andinspecting the trimming of her dress, began hesitatingly : “ By the way, Miss La Rue, my brother has been telling us about our cousin, Miss Reinette Hetherton, who had just come from Europe, and she says she knew a Margery La Rue in Paris. In it possible she means you? Did you ever know any one of that name ?" “ Yes,oh yes i" and Margery’s face was all1 aglow with excitement as she looked quickly up. “ hes, Miss Rossiter ; you must excuse me. but the door was open. and I could not help hearing some things your brother said â€"he talked so loud ; and I know it is my Queenie. I always called her that because she bade me do 50. She is the dearest friend I ever had, and I have loved her since the wintry afternoon when she brought so much sunshine into my lifeâ€"when she came into our dreary home, in her scarlet and rich ermine, and sat down on the hard old chair. and acted as if I were her equal, and said how much she liked me, and made he- lieveI was she. Queenie Hetherton, and she was I, Margery La Rue, and I were her Icarlet cloak, and she my poor. plain plaid. as we drove in the Champs d’Elysees. And she has been my good angel ever since. She persuaded her father to send me to the Eng- lish school where she was a. pupil. She got me a. situation as governess, and when I re belied against the confinement and the de- gradationâ€"furl was only as a block in the familyâ€"she persuaded me to take up dress- making, for which I had a talent, and en- couraged and stood by me. and brought me more work than any four of my other custom- ers. 0h,I would die for Queenie Hetherton l” " By Jove, Ethel, if I had never seen Queenie, I should say this dressmaker of yours was the loveliest woman I ever saw. .Look at her, will you? Look at that figure, and the way she carries her head. as if ‘ to the manner born.‘ I don’t, wonder Queenie “15%| over her; such eyes, and hair, and com- plexionâ€"only a liitie too much like the Fergu teens; and now I remember Queenie said she was like me, I must be confounded good looking I" “ Oh, Phil, what a conceited, vain coxcomb mm are ; both his sisters exclaimed ; and yet vthem was a resemblance between the hand- eome. fair-haired Phil and the young girl who was walking rapidly toward the cottage when «the and her mother_had rooms. “ And she is your cousin,” Margery said; “ that is strange, for I always understood that her mother was an Englishwomau â€"one of the nobility, Queenie thought.” Ethel colored a. little, and replied: “ Yes; her mother and mine were sisters. Mr. Hetherton’s old home was in Merrivale. Did you ever see him 1‘” and, entering the room, joined in tha conver- sation, asking many questions of the Hether- tons and their life in Paris and at; Chateau des Fleurs, which Margery described as a par- fect palace of beauty and art. 7 . .1 n -VVV ‘" , , “ I was so happy the summer I spent there," she saidâ€"“ happy in making believe it. was mine instead of Queenie’s. This‘making be- lieve‘ was eur favorite play, when I was the mistress and she the guest. and I wore her dresses and she wore mine and called herself Margery. We could hardly do that now, for I have grown so tell, and she is a. wee bit of a creature.” Atter a time Phil came sauntering into the room in his usual indolent, easy mu-uner, and was presented to Margery. whose blue eyes scanned him curiously and questioningly. She had heard enough of his conversation to guess that he was already far gone in love with Queenie, and she was anxious to know what manner of man he was. Something in his manner and the expression of his face fascinated her strangely, while he, in turn, was equally drawn toward her ; and when at lost her work was done and 5119 started for home, he exclaimed, under his 1' 0h, mother," Margery began, as she took ofi her hat and scarf and began to arrange “ Once, on horseback, in the Bois. I was driving with his daughter, and she made him stop and speak to us. He was very fine-lookâ€" ing and gendemanly, but I thought; him proud and reserved, and I believe he had that name in Paris.” “ You might not think her very pretty when she is quiet and her features in repose. but when she 19 excited and animated, she sparkles, and glows. and flashes, and shines, as if there were a. blaze of light encircling her, and then she 1s more beautiful than any- thing I ever looked upon, and she takes youi brpmh away with her brilliancy and bright nous." It seemed so strange to the Rossiters that this foreigner should know so muchfimore than themselvel of the Hethertons. and for a. long time they continued to ply her with questions concerning the new cousin whom they had never seen. 7 “is she pretty, as Phil says she is ?” Grace asked, and Margery Igplied :_ “ You must have heard her speak often of her mother, my sister.” Mrs. Rossiter said, and Margery replied : “ Yes, many times ; and at Chateau des Fleurs there was a. lovely portrmt of Mrs. Eetherton, taken in creamy white satin, wnth pearls on her neck and in her wavy hair. She must have been beautiful. There is a re- semblance, I see, between you all and that poflgait.” A ” Do you know where that portraitis now :7” Mrs. Rossiter asked ; and Margery replied by telling her that, nearly six years before, Chateau des Fleurs was burned. with all there was in it, and she believed there was now no portrait of Mrs. Hetherton in the taxpily. breath, street : QUEENIE HETHERTON. as he w'atched her going down the her hair before the little mirror, “ I have such pewsrto-day ! Queenieâ€"Miss Hethertonâ€"is here 1" “ Here ! Reinette Hetherton here I and her father ?” Mrs. La Rue exclaimed, spring- ing to her feet as suddenly as if a. bullet. had pierced her. But Margery's back was toward her, and she did not see how agitated she was, or how deathly white 81:59 grew 91y the refly. 7 “ Hér fatherfiiea on shipboard: jfist as they reached New York, and Queenie is all alone in Merrivale.” “ Mr. Hethertou dead ! dead l” Mrs. La Rue repeated, as she dropped back into her chair, while the hot blood surged fora moment to her face and then left it pallid and gray as the face of a corpse. Something ufinatuml in the tone of her voice attracted Margery, who turned to look at her. “ Why, mother. what 13 it? Are you sick ?” she cried messing swiftly to her and pansing her arm around her as she leaned back heavily in the chair. “ I’ve been dizzy-like all the morning. It’s nothing ; it will soon pass 01?." Mrs. La Rue reglied. » But; when Margery insisted that she should lie down and be quiet. she did not refuse, but suffered her daughter to lead her to the lounge and bring her the hartshorn and cam- phor. n “ Cover me up, Margery.” she said, as a. shiver like an ague chill ran through herveina. “ I’m so cold and ahakylike. There, that will do ; and now sit down beside me, and let, me hold your hand while you teil me of your friend and her father, and how he died, and who told you. It: will interest me, may be, and make me forget my bad feelings." S0 Margery sat down beside her, and took the hot hand which held hers with a. grasp which was sometimes actually painful as the narrative proceeded, and Margery told all she had heard from the Rossiters. " And to think, her mother was an Ameri- can, and that the Rossiters are her cousins, and her father’s old home is Men-ivale. where I have thought of going ! Oh, if I could only go there now!” Margery said; but her mothe1 did not expwss sur'pxi: e at anything. 0n the contrary, a more suspicious person than Margery would have said that the story was not new to her, for she occasionally asked some questions which showed some knowledge of Queenie's antecedents. But this Margery did not observe. She only thought her mother a little strange and sick. and was glad when from her closed eyes and perfectly motionless figure ehe argued that. she was sleeping. Covering her a little more closely and drop- ping the shade so that the light should not disturb her, she stole softly out, leaving the wretched woman alone with herself, for she was wretchedâ€"was always wretched even when the smile was brightest on her lips ; and now would seem as if some lightning shah hzuJ struck to the depths of her can. science and lashed it into frenzy. Clenching her fists together so that the nails left their impress in her flesh. she whispered : x a h “Dead l dead 1 Frederick Hetherton dead! and she sole heiress offietherton! Dead ! and does that release me from my vow? Do I Wish to be released? No, oh, no, a. thousand times no? And yet when she was talking to me I felt as if Imust‘ scream it out. Oh, Margery; oh, my daughter, my daughter! Dead! And will his face haunt me as hers hasâ€"the sweet pale face of her who trusted me so? There surely is a hell, and I have been in it this many a year ! Margery ! Margery l” ._ “D111 you call me mother? . I thought I heard my name,” Margery said, opening the door, and looking into {be room}. “No, no; go away. You waken me when I want to sleep,” Mrs. La, Rue said, almost angrily, for the sight of that beautiful young face, and the sound of that silvery voice near- ly made her mad ; so Margery went away again, and left her mother alone to fight the demons of remorse, which the news of Fred- ;alric Betherton’s death had aroused within er. OLD LETTERS. Reinette was up and at, her window on the morning when Phil left Merrivale. and had his seat been on the opposite side of the car from what it was, and had his powers of vis- ion been long enough and strong enough, he. might heve seen a little pair of white plump hands waving kisses and good-bye to him as the train shot under the bridge, round the curve, and off into the swamps and plains of East Merrivale. “I shall miss him so much,” Reinette thought. " He is just the nicest kind of a boy cousin :1 girl ever had. We can go all lengths without the slightest danger of falling in love, for that would be impossible. Falling 1n love means getting married, and I have been educated too much like a Roman Catholic ever to marry my cousin. I would as soon marry my brother, if I had one. 1 think it wicked, disgusting I So, Mr. Phil, I am going to have just the best time flirting with you that ever a. girl had. But what shall I do While you are gone ? Mr. Beres- ford is nice, but. I can’t flirt with him. He’s too old and dignified, and has such a way of looking you down.” The business papers disnosed of. and lflld away for Mr. Beresford’s inspection, Queenie turned next to the letters, of which there were not very many. Some from Mr. Bares ford on businessâ€"one from her father’s mother. Mrs. General Hetherton, written to him when he was at Harvard, and showing that the writer was a. lady in every thought and feeling, and one from herself, written to her father when he was in Algiers, and she only ten years old. It was a perfect child‘s letter, full of details of life at the Eng lish school. “ Queenie’s first letter to me.” was writ ten on the label, and the worn paper showed that it had been often read by the fond,proud father. This mental allusion to Mr. Beresford re- minded Reinette that he was to come that day for any papers of her father‘s which she had in her possession, and that she must look them over first. Ringing for Pierre, she bade him bring her the small black trunk or box in which her father’s private papers were kept. Pierre obeyed, and was about leaving the room when Reinette bade him bring a. lighted lamp and set it upon the hearth of the open fireplace. The lamp was brought and lighted, and then Queenie began her task, selecting first all the legallooking documents which she knew must pertain strictly to her father’s business. A few of these were in English and related to affairs in America, but the most were in French and pertained to matters in France and Switzerland, where her father held property. These Queenie knew Mr. Beresford could not well decipher without her help, and so she went carefully over each document, finding nothing objectionable nothing which a stranger must not seeâ€" nothing mysterious to her, though one paper might seem so to others. It was dated about twenty years before, and was evidently a copy of what was intended as an order setting apart a certain amount of money, the in- terest to be paid semi'annually to one Chris- tine Bodine in return {or services rendered ; the principal was placed in the hands of Messrs. Polignac, with instructions to pay the interest as therein provided to the party named. who, in case of Mr. Hetherton’s death, was to receive the whole unless orders to the contrary should be previously given. This paper Reinette read two or three times, wondering what were the services for which her old nurse received this annuity, and thinking, too, that there was a chance to find her. The money must have been paid, if she were living. and through the Messrs. Polignac she could trace her and bring her to America. “ I ought to have some such person living with me, I suppose,” she said, " and I hate 8. mraidralways in my rogm and‘in x_ny \vgyz” Th VI‘Iinay wish to burn some of them.” she said. Over this Reinette‘s tears fell in torrents, CHAPTER XVIII. for it told how much she had been loved by the man whose hand she seemed to touch as she sorted the letters he had held so often. “ Darling father,” she subbed, “there’s nothing here that a saint from Heaven might not see,” and laying aside the envelope which bore her childish superscript-ion, she took up a packet which to her aristocratic instincts seemed out of place With those other papers, in which there lingered still a. faint odor of the costly perfume her father always used. There were three letters in envelopes, in- closed in one large envelope, on which Rein~ ette recognized her father’s monogram. Tak- ing out the largest one first she studied it carefully. noting that the paper was cheap, the handwriting cramped and uneducated, and Chateau des Fleurs, to which it was di- rected, spelled wrong. “ It looks coarse; it feels coarse, and it smells coarse," Queenie said, elevating her little nose as she caught it whifi of something very different from the delicate perfumery pervading the other papers. “ Who sent this to papa, and what is it about ?”were the ques- tions which passed rapidly through her mmd, as she held the worn, soiled missive between her thumb and finger, and inspected it curi- ously. Once something prompted her to return it whence she found itâ€"to put it away from her sight, and never seek to know its contents. But woman’s curiosity overcame every sample, and she at last drew the letter itself from the envelope. It was quite a large sheet, such as Reiuette knew ladies seldom used, and the four pages were closely written over, while there seemed to be something inside which added to its bulk Turning mat. to the last page Queenie glanced at the signature, and saw the two words “ From Tina,” but saw no more, for the something inside which, slipping down, dropped upon her hand, around which it coiled like a. living thing, with a grasp of rec- ognition. A trees of long. bluablack hairâ€"a woman’s hairâ€"with just a tendency to wave perceptible all through it. Shaking it off as if it had been a. snake. Queenie'e cheek paled a moment with 3. Ben sation she could not define, and then, as she defined it, crimsoned with shame and re- sentment ; resentment for the dead mother, who, she ielt, bad in some way been wronged, and shame for the dead father to whom some other women had dared to write. and send a lock of hair. “ Who is this Tina? ” she said, with a. not gleam of anger in her black eyes, and how dare she send this to my fatherâ€"the bold, bad creature ! I hate her, with her vile black hair ! ” and she ground her little high heel upon the unconscious tress of hair as it had been Tina herself upon whom she was trampling. “ 1’11 burnit,” she said at last, “ but I’ll never touch it again." And reaching her tongs, which stood upon the hearth. she took up the ofiending hair and held it in the lamp, watching it with a grim feeling of satisfaction. and yet with a. sense of pain, as it hissed, and reddened, and charred in the flame, and wrilhed and twis- ted as if it had been something human item which the life was going out. “ Tina I " she exclaimed again. "Who, I’d like to know, is Tins. ? ” Then remembering the surest Way to find out who she was, was to read the letter. she took it up again, but hesitated 9. moment as if held back by some uniorseen influence ; hesitated as we sometimes hesitate when standing on the threshold of some great crisis of danger in our lives. “ If it‘s bad,” she said, “I do not iwant to think ill of him. ” Oh. father, it sn’t bad ; it must not be bad; " and the hot tears came fast, as the daughter who had believed her father so pure and good turned at last to the first page to see what was writ- en there. Through the open window a breath of the sweet summer air came stenling,and catching up a bit of the burnt, crisped hair carried it to Queenine’s white morning wrapper. where i§ clung tenuciously until she shook it off as if It had been pollution. “Dear M17. Hetherton, are you wondering who you do not hear from your little Tina. ? It was dated at Marseiilea twen’ty yearn be- fore, and bggnpi: “ Miss Hetherton, your grandmother is here asking for you,” camefrom the door out- side which Pierre stood knocking, and start- ing, as if caught in some guilty act, Reinette put the letter back in its envelope, and went down to meet her grandmother, who had come over for what she called a. " real sit- down visit," and brought her work with her. There was nothing now left for Reinette but to leave the letters and devote herself to her guest, who staid to lunch, so that it was not until afternoon that Queenie found an oppor- tunity to resume the work of the morning. Meanwhile her thoughts had been busy, and over and over again she repeated to herself the words, “ Your little Tina,” until they had assumed for her a new and entirely different meaning from the one she had given them in the first heat of her discovery. There might beâ€"nay, there was no shame attaching to themâ€"no shame in that blue black tress of hair which she could feel curling around her fingers still, and see as it hissed and writhed in the flame. The letter was written after her mother’s death. Her father was human â€"was like other menâ€"and his fancy had been caught by some dark-haired girl of the working class who called herself his “ Little Tina.” She had undoubtedly bewitched him for a time, so that he might have thought to make her his wife. His first marriage was what they call a mesalliance ; and here Queenie felt her cheeks flush hotly as if a wrong was done to her mother, but she meant none; she was trying to defend her father; ‘to save his memory from any evil doing. If he stooped once, he might again, and the last time Tina was the object. He had meant honorably by her always, and tiring of her a‘ter a little, had broken with her, as was often done by the best of men, Of all this Queenie thought as she talked with her grand- mother, answering her numberless questions of her life in France, and her plans for the future ; and by the time the good lady was gone and she free to go back to her work. she had changed her mind with regard to Tina’s letters, and a strange feeling of half pity for the unknown girl had taken posses- sion of her, making her shrink from reading her words of love, if they were innocent and pure. as she fain would believe them to be, for the sake of her dead father; and if they were not innocent and pure, “ I do not wish to know it. I should hate himâ€"hate him always in his grave l” she said, as she picked up the letter and resolutely put it back in the envelope with the other two. ”There, little black-haired Tina," she said, as she came down from the chair and out into her chamber, “your secret if you had one with my father, is safeâ€"not for your sake,th0ugh, Searching through her trunks and drawers. she found iour paper boxes of difierent sizes. and putting the envelope in the smallest of them. placed that in the next larger size, and so on, writing upon the cover of the last one, “ To be burned without opening in case of my death.” Then tying the lid securely with a strong cord, she mounted upon a chair and placed the package upon the topmost shelf of the closet, where neither she nor any one could see it. This last condition came to her mind she hardly knew how or why, for she had no idea. that any circumstances could arise which would make the reading of the letters noses- sary. “ But I’ll never, never read them,” she said; and dropping on her knees, with the package held nightly in her hand, she regis- tereda vow that as long as she lived she would not. seek to know what the letters con- tained, unless circumstances should arise which would make the reading of them a necessity. Once she thought to burn them, as she had the hair, and th'us put temptation away for- ever; but as often as she held them toward the lamp she had lighted again, as often something checked her, until a, kind of super- ttitious conviction took possession of her that she must not burn those letters written by “ Little Tina.” you blue-black haired jade 1" and Queenie set her foot down viciously; “not for your sake, but. for father’s, who might have been silly enough to be caught by your pretty face, and to be flattered by you, for, of course. you ran after hxm. and widowow r1“ , ~13, I’ve heard say." Having thus settled we minnwm [Jutland dismissed her from her mind for the time being at least, Queenie want luck to the re« maining package in the boxâ€"the one tied with a blue ribbon, and labeled “Margaret’s letters." “ Mother’s,” she said, softly, with a quick, gasping breath ; “and now I shall know something of her at last ;" and she kissed tenflerly the time-worn envelope which held her mother’s letters. There were not many of them, and they had been written at long intervals, and only in answer to the husband’s, it would seem, for she complained in one that he waited so long before replying to her. Queenie felt no compunctions in reading these; they were something which belonged to her, and she went through them rapidly, with burning cheeks, and eyes so full of tears at times that she could scarcely see the delicate handwrit- ing, so different from that other; the blue- black haired Tina’s, as she mentally designa- ted her. And as Queenie read, there came over her a feeling of resentment and anger towards the dead father, who, she felt sure. had often grieved and neglected the young wife. who, though she made no complaint. 1wrote so sadly and dejectedly, and begged ihim to come homo, and not stay so long in gthose far off lands, with people whom Mar- lgaret did not like. “ Dear Frederick,” she wrote from Rome, “ please come to me ; I am so lonely with- out you, and the days are so long, with only Christine for company, {or I seldom go out except to drive on the Pincian or Campagna, and so see scarcely any one. Christine is a great comfort to me, and anticipates my wishes almost before I know that I have them myself. She is as faithful and tender as if she were my mother, instead of maid, and if I should die you must always be kind to her for what she has been to me. But oh, I do so long for you, and I think I could make you very happy. You used to love me, Frederick, when we were boy and girl in dear old Merrivale. How often I dream of home and the shadowy woods by the pond where we used to walk together, and the moon- light sails on the river when we rowed in among the sweet lilies, and you said I was ovelier and sweeter than they. You loved me then ; do you love me now as well 7 I have sometimes feared you did not ; feared something had come between us which was ,weaning you from me. Don’t let it, Fred- erick ; put it away from you, whatever itmay ‘be, and let me be your Queen, your Daisy, your Margery again ; for I do love you, my husband, more than you can guess. and I ,want your love now when I am so sick. and tired, and lonely. Christine is waiting to post ,this for me, and so I must close with a kiss lright there where I make the star. (*). Put ‘your lips there, Frederick, where mine have 3 been and then we shallhave kissed each other. Truly, lovingly and longingly, your tired, sick Margery.” “ Margery, Margery? That was then her pet name, the name I like the best in all the world, because of my Margery," Queenie cried as her tears fell fast upon the letter, which seemed to her like a voice from the deed. “Poor mother, you were not so very happy were you ? Why did you die 7 If I only had you now, how I would love and pet you,” she said, as she passwnately kissed the place her mother’s lips had touched, and her father’s too, she hoped, for how could he resist that touching appeal. He must have loved the writer of that letter. and yetâ€"and yetâ€"there was a cloudâ€"~11. something between the hus- band and wife which cast its shadow over their child and made her weep bitterly as she wondered what the something was which had crept in between her father and his tired, sick Marg gery. “ Was it the blue black haired Tina,” she said, as she clenched her fists to gather, and then beat the air with them, as she wohld have beaten the "blue black haired Tina had she been there with her. ”Poor mother,” she said again, “so tired and sick, with no one to care for her but Christine,who was so gocd to her. I know now why my father settled that money on her ; it was be- cause she was so kind and faithful to mother, who knows now, perhaps, that father did love her more than she thought ; for he did, I am sure he did ; and he loved me, too, and I believed him so noble and true. Oh, father, father, forgive me, but I have lost something. I cannot put it in wordsâ€"butâ€"butâ€"I don’t know what I mean,” and stooping over the package which held her mother’s letters. Reinefie cried out loud, with a bitter sense of somet ing lost from her father’s memory which had been very sweet to her. “Oh, how much has happened since I came to America, and how long it seems. and how old I freehand there is no one to tell it toâ€"no one to talk with about it.” “ WhY, there is over half a million, if all this is good,” she said, looking up at him with pleased surprise. “And I am so glad. for I like a great deal of money. I have always had it, and should not know what to do without it. I went a great deal for myself, and more for other people. I am going to give grandma some, becauseâ€" well,” and Queenie hesitated a little, “ be- cause I was mean to her at the station when she claimed me ; and I’m going to give some to Aunt Lydia, so she can afiord to sell out her business, which is so obnoxious to Anna. and if that girl down at the Vineyard proves to be my Margery, I shall give her money to buy Aunt Lydia out, and than I shall have her all to myself, and you’ll be falling in love Just then there was a. second knock at the door, and Pierre announced Mr. Beresford waiting in the library. He was a prompt business man, and had come for the papers, Reinette knew, and, bathing her flushed cheeks, and crumbling her wavy hair more than it was already crumpled, she went down to meet him, taking the papers with her, and trying to seem natural and gay. as if no tress of blue-black heir had been burned in her room, no letters from Tina were hidden away in her closet, and no sting when she thought of her father was hurting her cruelly. But Mr. Beresford had no suspicion of Tina, or anything else, and only thought how love- ly she was and what a remarkable talent for understanding business she developed, as they went over the papers to gather and formed a pretty fair estimate of the value of the Hetherton estate, “ She was so kind to mother, who request- ed him to care for her. I’ve been reading all about it in mother's letters to him.” she said, without lifting her eyes to his face, for in spite of herself and her avowed confidence in her father’s honor, there was in her heart a feeling of degradation when she remember- ed Tine, as if the shame, if shame there were, was in some way attaching to her and rob bing her of some of her self-respect. Queenie was a perfect little actress, and her face was bright with smiles as she entered the room and greeted Mr. Beresford, who, be- ing a close observer, saw that something had been agitating her. and guessed that it was the examining of her father’s papers, which naturally would bring be ck her sorrow so freshly. There was a. great pity in his heart for this lonely girl, and his manner was very sympathetic and gentle as he took the box trom her and said: “ I must read some of them over for you, for I don’t believe you understand French very well, do yQu ?" “ Not at all-not at all,” he replied, glad to be thought ignorant of even the monosyllable am" if by this means he could sit close to her and watch her dimpled hands sorting out the papers, and hear her silvery, bird-like voice, with its soft accent, transla- ting what was written in them into English. “ I am afraid this has been too much for yoq, going ov_er them_ 59 soon." _ ' Instantly the great tears gathered in her heavy eyelashes. but did not fall, and only made her all the sweater and prettier, as she sat down beside him and said : Especlal pains did she take to makevhim understand about the money paid to Chris- tine Bodine and why it wasipaid. with herâ€"remember that 1 You’ll be in love with Margery La Rue the second time you see her !” see her !” “ Margery La Rue 1 W110 is she ?" Mr. Beresfotd asked ; and then came out the story of Margery mixed with so extravagant praises of the young lady that Mr. Bereiford began to feel an interest in her, although the idea. of falling in love with her was simply prepos- terous. ' Splendid as he was, and sensible, too, he had a good deal of foolish pride and would have scouted the thought of a dressmeker ever becoming Mrs. Arthur Bereaford. That lady was to be more like this little dark-eyed fairy beside him. who chettered on. telling him what she meant to do with her halt mil- lion, which it seemed was literally burning her fingers. She would give some to every- body who was poor and needed it, some to all the missionaries and churches, and even some to him, if he was straitened and needed Mr. Beresford smiled, and thanked her, and said he would remember her 0561' ; and then she added : “ I’ll give some to Phil now, if he wants it, to caxry on his business. Does it take much money, Mr. Beresford ? What is his business â€"his profession? I don’t think I know.” “ I don’t think he has any," Mr. Betesford replied, and Reinette exclaimed: “ No business ! _ no profession I That’s smart 1 Every young man ought to do s‘ome- thing, father used to any. Pray, what does Phil do? How does he past: his time?" " By making himself generally useful and agreeable,” Mr. Beresforcl said, and in his voice there was a. tinge of irony.which Queenie detected at once, and instantly flamed up in defence of her cousin. “ Of course he makes himself useful and agreeableâ€"more agreeable than any person I ever saw. I’ve only known him a day or two, and yet I Ilka him better than anybody in the world except Margery." ‘1 Phil ought to feel complimenteii with your opinion, which, Iassure you, is well merited " Mr. Beresford said while a. horrid feeling of jealousy took possession of him. Why would girls always prefer an indolent, easy-going, good-for-nothing chap like Phil Rossiter, to an active, energetic, thorough- going man like himself? Not that he had heretofore been troubled by what the girls preferred, for he cared nothing for them in the abstract: but this restless, sparkling French girl was difierent, and he felt every nerve in his body thrill with a strange feeling of ecstasy when at parting she laid her soft, warm hand on his, and looking up at him with her bright earnest ayes, said to “ Certainly not," Reinefle said. "I think you are very nice. You are iather's friend, and he said I must like you. and tell you evez-vthing. and I do like you ever so much, t! )1 not the way I do Pbil. I like h1m be- c 1: =e ‘71: is so good and funnymnd my cousin, am. â€"well, because he is Phil." “ Happy Phil 1" Mr. Beresford said. “ I wish I was good, and funny, and your cousin,” and giving a little squeeze to the hand he could have crushed, it was so small and soft.he bade her good attemoon,and rode away. _ ‘ ” Now you will write at once to Messrs. .Polignae and inquire about Cliristlm, and I shall write, too ; for I must find her and bring her here to live with me. Grandma says I ought to have somebody, some middleâ€" aged, respectable woman, as a kind of guard- ianâ€"but, ugh l I hate guardians !" Auuâ€"uuu, ubu l 1. Ala-0 auulunuuâ€" . “ Oh. I hope not 7" Mt. Beresford, said, laughingly. managing to retain the hand hid in his so naturally. “ In one sense I am your guardian. and I hope you don'fi hate “ I hope he is not falling in love with me, for that would be dreadful. Falling in love means marrying, and I wouldn’t marry him any sooner than I would Phil. He is too old, and dignified, and poky." Beinette thought as she watched him going down the hill, while he was mentally registering a vow to enter the lists and compete with the young man who was so much liked because he was Phil. Queenie never shrank from anything, but plunged her white, fair hands into the dirt up to her wrists, while Phil took ofl his coat and worked patiently at her side, transplant- ing a rose bush or geranium to one place in the morning, andin the evening to another, if so the fancy took his mistress. She could not always tell where she wanted a thing until she studied the efleot of certain posi- tions, and then, if she did not like it. if it d' not harmonize with the picture she was for - ing. it must he moved. she said. And so the moving and changing went on, and people mervelled to see how rapidly what had at first seemed chaos and confusion began to assume proportions untilthe grounds bade fair to be- come more beautiful and artistic than any piece which had ever been seen in the county. What had been done before Queenie’s arrival was for the most part unchanged, but the remainder of the grounds were entirely over- turned. The platesu and summer house, on which Queenie had set her heart, were made, and the terraces, and the new walks. and the pasture land, west of the house, was robbed of its greensward for turf to cover the terraces and plateau, which were watered twida each day until the well and cisterns THE LITTLE LADY OF KETHEETON. Within a week after Phil's departure the whole town was lull of her, and rumor said she was running a wild career. with no one to adv1se or check her except Mr. Beresford, who seemed as crazy as herself. Everybody thought her wonderfully bright, and fresh, and pretty, but her ways astonished the sober people of Merrivale. who, nevertheless, were greatly interested and amused with watching her as she developed phase after phase of her variable nature â€"visiting Mr. Beresford at his office two or three times a day. ostensibly to translate foreign letters and papers for him, but really, it was said by the gossips, to see the man himself ; galloping 03 miles and miles into the country on her spirited horse, with the little old Frenchman in attendance; worrying Mrs. Jerry by having chocolate in her room in the morning, breakfasting at twelve, dining at six, with as much ceremony as if a dozen people were seated at the table instead of one lone girl, who sometimes never touched the dishes prepared with so much careâ€"dining, too, in all sorts of places as the fancy took her ; on the north piazza, on the south piazza, and even in the summer-house ; giving her money away by the hundreds to the Fergusons. and by the tens. and fives, and ones to anybody who asked for it ; sink. ing a little fortune on the grounds at Hether- ton Place, which she was entirely metamor- phosing, with fifteen or twenty men at work there all the time, while she superintended them, and gave them lemonade or root-beer two or three times a day, and once had treated them to ice-cream, as an incentive to swifter labor. ‘ Such was the state of affairs when Phil, improving the very first opportunity for leave of absence, came back to Merrivale. It was 10 mm. when he reached the station, and exactly half-past ten to a minute when he found himself at Hetherton Place, his hand locked in that of Queenie, who. in her big garden hat, with trowel and pruning-kniie, led him all over the grounds, where the fifteen men were at work, pointing out her improvements, and asking what he thought of them. And Phil. who had promised his mother to check his cousin if he found her going on recklessly. as they had heard from Anne, proved a very flunky, and instead of checking her, entered heart and soul into her plans, and even made suggestions as to how they could be im- proved. So useful, in fact, did he make him- self, enda 0 much skill and taste did he dis play, that Queenie forgot entirely to chide him for his lack of a. profession. Indeed, she was rather glad than otherwise that he had no profession, as it left him free to be with her all the time, and to become at last the superintendent of the whole, with this differ ence, y however, that while he directed the men, Queenie directed him. and made him her very slave. CHAPTER XIX. gave out, and then the heavens, as if in sym- pathy with the work poured out plentiful showers, and so. notwithstandina that it was summer, the turf, and the shrubs, and the vines, and flowers were kept green and fresh, and scarcely stopped their growing. Every- thing went on beentifully,Queenie said,e.s she issued her orders, and, busy as s bee, worked from morning till night. with Phil always in attendance, while even Mr. Beresford at last caught the fever, and went himself into the business of planting and transplanting, and working in the dirt. The Hetherton garden- ers the people called the two young men, Phil being the head and Mr. Beresford the sub ; but little did they care for the merry- making, so long as that little, bright, spark- ling girl worked with them in the dirt, and then at night rewarded them with a bouquet. which she fastened to their buttonholes standing up on tiptoe to do it, and looking up at them with eyes that nearly drove them crazy. Nor was Hetherton Place the only spot; where Queenie was busy. A few days after Phi] went to the seashore there had come to her a letter from Margery, who wrote : “ MY DARLING Qunnmn,â€"â€"You donot know how surprised and delighted I was to hear that you were in America, or how sorry I was to hear of your loss. You must be so lonely and sad, alone in a. strange country. What is Merrivale like ? and do you think it would he a good place for me ? Is it not funny that I had thought to come there, and have actu- ally written to a Mrs. Ferguson, who turns out to be your aunt ? But she asks more for her business than I feel able to pay, and so the plan has been abandoned for the present. But I must see you, and, remembering all the kindness in the years past, you will not think me intrusive when I tell you that before the summer is gone I am coming to Merrivule just to look into your dear eyes again and we if you are changed. I like your aunt and cousins so much ; they are genuine ladies, and I am glad they belong to you.” The first thing Queenie did after reading this letter was to mount her horse and gallop in hot haste to the village, where she aston- ished Mrs. Lydia Ferguson by ofiering her more for her business than she had demanded of Miss La Rue. “It is my Margeryâ€"my friend, and I am going to have her hereif I turn my own house into a dreasmaker's shop,” she swid, and she talked so fast and gesticulated so rapidly that Mrs. Lydia grew quite bewildered, but man- aged to comprehend that a price was offered her which would be well for her to accept, as it might never be offered her again. [To BE CONTINUED.] Menn- I. be Adopted to Extermi-ale lho Contagion. Special to the Boston Herald. WASHINGTON, Sept. 12.â€"â€"-Dr. Charles P. Lyman, of Springfield, Mass., a member of the veterinary staff of the agricultural depart- ment, who returned from England last week, left last night for Boston, where he proposes to conduct his investigation into the origin of the pleuo-pneumonin he discovered while he was in Liverpool, in western cattle exported from Boston. He will labor in his investiga- tion until October lot. by which time he hopes to conclude it; if not, he will resume it in November, when he has finished some other special work. To your correspondent Dr. Lyman said, just before he left, that he begins his investigation with a belief that pleuro- pneumonia does not exist in the West or in Massachusetts. The investigation will be a complex and difficult task. Dr. Lyman has the addresses of the shippers of the cattle found to be infected upon inspection in Liver. pool, and will trace the inspection up with their aid. During his residence in Liverpool, which extended over four or five weeks, Dr. Lyman, in company with the English inspec- tor, examined every day the lungs of American cattle landed at that port. Not a single lung out of more than 10.000 pair escaped their rigid inspection. The lesions which indicate the presence of plenro-pneumonir, were found upon but six lungs. These Dr. Lyman brought home with him. They were un- doubtedly affected with pleura-pneumonia. Professor Williams of Edinburgh, who has always maintained that pleuro-pneumonia did not exist in American cattle brought into England, admitted upon examination, that the cattle from which the lungs in question were taken were infected with the contagion. Even if this eminent veterinary surgeon had not so expressed himself, the English author- ities, upon the report of their inspector at Liverpool, would have proclaimed theinfection of the cattle examined. Having ascertained by personal observation that the proposition that Boston-shipped Western cattle are not infected with pleuro-pneumonia was unten- able, Dr. Lyman was obliged to abandon his attempt to secure a modification of the Eng- lish restriction so far as such cattle were concerned He could not make an effort in behalf of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore or any other Eastern city. because pleuro- pneumonia exists in their vicinity. Dr. Lyman thinks the only way a. modification of the irksome English restriction can be secured is through energetic action on the part of our Government directed to make one or more Eastern ports and the routes leading from the West to them entirely above suspicion of pleura-pneumonia infection. There will be no relaxation on the part of Great Britain until some measures are adopted by our Gov- ernment which will assure her that American cattle shipped from one or more American ports are free from the dreaded contagion. mL, ..__.L-_ ,.c Amman-.. .mulal "yum“.sna -â€"â€"M. Sagoier writes in the Economiatc Francayis, that each international exposition since that in London in 1862 has proved the great advance in the methods of vine culture in Spain. The consumption of wine per inhabitant in Spain is scarcely half that of the individual Frenchman, and the exports have of late years increased enor mously. In 1869 they reached 1,857,842 hectolitres ; in 1874. 2,114,298; in 1878, 2,- 672,168. While Spain sends immense quan- tities of wine to France, France sends scarcely any in comparison to Spain. Of the wine sent by Spain to France, France has herself consumed about half. Of the remainder, Ihe United States and South America took the bulk. Much of the so-calltd French claret drunk here is really Spanish. and sent to France with a view of getting the Bordeaux Gluten House brand. â€"A natural result of hard times in Ireland is a. decrease in the number of marriages. In 1879 the number was 23,213. or 3,596 below the average of the twelve preceding yearn, and 149 less than the total for Scotland, Where the population is below that of Ireland by 1,802,- 297. l The number of American cattle” imported into England is about 30,000 per month. Under existing quarantine restrictions, these are all slaughtered on the docks within D. limited number of days. Could they be taken inland, they would bring $20 more per head then they do as dead meat. Therefore the average loss per month to the American agri culturist. upon the whole loss falls, is about 8600000. This might be saved to him and our present trade doubled and quadrupled if all cattle shipped from any point could be sent to England free from contagion. If Dr. Lyman finds upon investigation that his six cases of pleuro-pneumonia originated in any one place heretofore suppased free from it, he will recommend its extermination by pur~ chase and slaughter of all infected cattle. It is considered possible to stamp the disease out, wherever it exists, in this manner. If Congress authorizes it and appropriates the money it will be done. ' This would solve the proplem of how to s( cure a modification of the English restrictions at once. lâ€"A headline in one of the morning papers says : “ Autumn leaves -’ Funny she leaves so soon ; thought she had come. â€"â€"The Parliament of Jersey, where some of the French Jesuits have settled. is to be moved to expel them from the Island, under an unrapealed statute of George III. â€"Navul demonstrations are worth about eighty-fiveggntg on the fioflar. PLEUBfl-PNE UNIONI A flow Living-Inn’s Wife’n Links Poi-oniug Bin-e “'orkcd. Shortly before 1 o’clock Friday morning, Charles Livingston, the young man who nine days previously had started in on a forty two days fast at No. 5 Willoughby street. Brook- lyn, sought out a. Star reporter. To the scribe Livingston delivered himself as follows : “ I want the press to'set me right with the public. I quit my fast last night because I was told that my wife was poisoned. She ii all right now, and in two weeks time I shall attempt to fast again in New York so as 133 prove to the public that I am no humbug.” n “ How muéh have you eaten during thé last nine days ?” the x'epqrter inqqiretj. “ I didn’t eat anything until about half an hour ago. I took a biscuit and two or three glasses of beer. andI won’t eat until morning. I don’t feel a bit hungry." “ Did your wife take poison ?" “ I don’t know. She's all right now,-auy- way. and I guess she won’t interfere with me the next time.” The watchers who sat up with Livingston night and day for nine days expressed their disgust yesterday over what they were pleased to term, “ Livingston‘s foolishness in givin’ up for his wife.” It appears that when the German, who brought the news that Mrs, Livingston was poisoned, induced the faster to leave for home, one of the faithful watch- ers, Louis Gessert, a German nobleman. whose bank account is a. trifle short, chased Livingston home. Entering the house with the faster, Gassert satisfied himself that Mrs. L. was not dead, or even dying. Then, with a keen eye to business, while Livingston. hall frightened to death, hung over his wife, Gas- sert said, reproachfully : Mr. Thomas Fields, another watcher, was wildly disgusted : “ It‘s all Liviugston’s wife's Iault,” said be. “When the fast was begun she was crazy for it to go, then a day or so ago she took it into her head to break the fast up.” “ How 7" “ Why she comes to me and says she : ‘I can bust this fast by ssyin’ one word.’ ‘And what is that word, madame 7’ says I. ‘I can say that Charley ete,’ says she. ‘My good lady,’ says I. ‘whst is that word ?’ Says she: ‘He ate.’ ‘My good lady,’ says I' for I didn‘t want to he disrespectful, ‘thst’s s dâ€"â€"lie ; he didn’t eat nothin’ since I've been watchin’ him these eight days.’ ” “ Did any doctor examine Livingston ?" “ Yes; Dr. Velliant of Twenty-seventh street, New York. The Doctor said Living- ston was a lunnyonny man, or some such big Philadelphia word. He said he was stronger for s fast than Dr. Tanner." “ Did Mrs. Livingston take poison ?” “ Not as much as I take every day. She had a little cup with some bedbug poison and water in it alongside of herbed,but she didn’t swaller it. I don‘t want to be lie-bell-vous, but it’s my opinion she could take a pailful. Why. she told us she had the heart disease (you seen her, she weighed near 200 pounds) and you’d think she had the heart disease if you’d a-seen her a-kissin’ Charleyâ€"her Charley. She used to be a predestrisn walker under the name of Mme. Walden." “ Mr. Livingston, ain’t you goin’ back to go on with the feet ? I’ve got orders to watch you. and I’m here.” “ But my wife 1” exclaimed Livingston. “ I ain’t got nothing to do with her ; it‘s you I’m looking out for,” replied the zealous watcher. When Livingston declared that he would never, never leave his wife, Gaseert, repress- ing a. strong inclination to knock the faster down. left in disgust. -â€"-Lord Gifford, who distinguished himsel for gallantry during the Ashantee warn and won the Victoria cross. has been appointed Colonial Secretary of Western Australia, and Senior Member of the Legislative Council. A poor peer is a difficnlt person to help now- adays. “ Patent places” are of the past. Thus the Marquis of Normndy had to accept a third-rate Colonial Governorship some years ago, and Lord Gifford, albeit a gallant and distinguished officer, is relegated to the poor- lest place in the antipodes. Lord Giflord'l grand-father, son of a grocer at Exeter, was Master of the Rolls. The present peer is near- ly related to Lady Salisbury. â€"The tomb of Mr. Percival Hunt. of Lul- lingstone castle, England, ancestor of Sir William Hort-Dyke (Lord Beaconsfield’s “whippenin” in the House of Commons), is inscribed: “The curious inspector of these monuments will see a. short account of an ancient family, for more than four centuries content with a moderate estate, not wasted by luxury not increased by avarice. May their posterity, emulating their virtues, long enjoy their possessions.” This inscription been the date of 1738. " That’s one of the things that bothers me. Mr. Murphy took hold of Livingston and went to great expense. He fitted up the hall with the most valuable paintings, bought a piano and put Brussels carpet on the floor And he was on the point of hiring Gilmore’s Band. Mrs, Livingston is to blame; she’s a nice, respectable lady, only a. little too cranky.” “ Does Livingston’s manager lose much by the faster’s failure 7” Mré. Livingston is recovering, and her good-natured husband is happy." There was quite a hubbub in the prisoners pen at the Tombs Police Court yesterday. where a voice like 9. Sandy Hook fog horn was shouting “ Rah l” in an essentially cheerful and enthusiastic manner, and presently a. bald-headed mm was projected, who bore up against the railings, winked pleasantly at the magistrate and bawled “ {all I" again with all his might. “ Yofi do seem to be jolly, at all events,” laid his Honor, eyeing the new comer from head to foot. “ Jolly’s no word for it," cried the other. rapturously. “ I‘m bilin’ over. I'm just a- bustin’ and can‘t be held in nohow. Hear the new: ?" His Honor‘s face became dark as n. thunder- cloud, nnd he toyed threateningly with 9. fivepoundinksmnd and some other pro- jecfiles as he asked, with seeming careless- ness: The prisoner was the picture of amazo- mentp “ Ten dollars 1” he said. “ Please tell me, is summat a matter with my hearin’ or is this a dream. Ten dollars for celebrat- in' 3 event in the nation's history ! Wot are we comin’ to? Is patriotism dead, I wonder ?” “ News I What news ?" “ The news from Maine." The judicial lmnd closed upon the nearest missile. but, controlling himself with an effort, his Honor said severely : “ Take care that you don’t iepeat that. The consequences may be fatal. There are cases when men may not be responsible for their actions. Now, as to this drunk, you’re fined 310 for it.” “ Oh, I guess patriotism’s all right.” said the magistrate, " but. the price of, drunks has not diminished in this court. You don't look as if politics had done much for you anyway, and I think it would stand you in to look up a. job instead of going round and booting about Maine.” “ Politlcs done nuthin' for me 2" said the prisoner, and his voice was lot-.7 and sad. “ Jedge, wus you ever at a. Sixth ward prim my 7" - “ I never was.” “ And never got jammed around and knotted up and straightened out again as we used for to be in them grand old times now passed away ‘2” “ Thank Heaven, no." “ Oh, you kin afford ter be cool and not give a cuss,” said the prisoner, brightening up, “ But had you bin around in them days you’d light out now ycrself and hurrah for every spot in Maine from Mattewamkeng to Meosameguutic. if it give you the lockjaw -o pronounce them. I was around in them days, Jedge. and you kin bet I’m a grateful man.” RUNNING F301“ “IS FAST. “'fl" IIE \VAS GK‘A'I‘EFUIAO