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So there was nothing for Margery to do but pray earnestly and unoeasingly for the young girl who seemed to beer a. charmed life, so fearles~ly did she meet every peril and over come every difficulty. Almost as popular as Sister Christine, she was hailed with delight everywhere and more than one owed his re- covery to her timely aid. At last. ‘however, she began to flag a. little, and was not quite as strong to endure as she had been. There were about her no symptoms of the fever ; she was only tired and wom, she said to Pierre, as she set in her room one evening. The day had been damp and sultry, and the night had closed in with rain and fog, and a. darkness which could almost be felt, while the air was, heavy as if Men with noxious vapors. “ Sister Christine 1" In an instant Queenie sprang to her feet, and mother and daughter stood confronting each other for a moment, neither speaking. .but each looking into the other’s eyes with an eager questioning look. In Christine's there was love. and tenderness, and anxiety. and feet, all blended together, while in Queenie's there was great surprise, and some- thing like glsdness, too, but with it the same old look of pride and repulsion. which Chris tine knew so well. Queenie, however, was the first to speak. " Chrihtine," she said, “ Sister Christine may 09.11 you. though I never dreamed i‘ was yog, how can“; Jpn here. am; when 7" “ No. my plaoé is here. and 1 am glad you are here, too. It makes me feel more kindly toward ygu.” _ “ 0h, Queenie, Queenie; God bless you for saying even so much,” and the woman who had stood undaunted by many a death-bed trembled like a leaf as she snatched Queenie’s hand to her lips, and then wens swinly from the room, where her services were no longer needed, for thIe she was speaking the ne grass was dead. 'J hat nig hi; a. telegram went to Marg gzery “ She will not g'o ayay a_nd she shall not die ” ' Christine told' her how and when. and then repeated Margery’s messageâ€"to find her and send her awnv. “ She says Queenie must not die, and I say so, too. Will you go before it is too late ?” she ggked, angl Qupepie answgered her: " If she could impart to me some of her skill, I m'ght do more good and save more lives.” she said to Pierre, and there was a thought of the woman in her heart as she bent over the dying negress, wiping the black vomit from her lips and the sweat drops from her brow. ” She might have saved her. perhaps," she said. just as the door opened Eng rho gray sister came in. Far govne'qs Was the poor colored woman. she skit! had enough of sight and sense to recognize the new comer. and something like a cry of joy escaped her as she managed to say :__ "‘ I 11 find her if she is here. and keep a watch over her,” she said ; and iwo days after they me: together high up in a tone- ment-house, where, in a dark. close room, Lwo negro children lay dead, and the mother wan dying. Queenie was doing her work bravely end well. seeking out the worst cases. and by her swretness and tenderness almost bringing I ask the life after it had gone out. Always attended by Pierre, who carried with him every dainfectant of which he had ever heard, she went fearlessly from place to place where she was needed most, but found frequently that Sister Christine had been there before her. Naturally she felt some curiosity with regard to this mysterious person,whoee praises were on every lip, and also ngreet desire .to see her. There was a faint smile about Christine’s lips as she read the dispatch, and then whis- pered to herself, “ No. Queenie must not die," “hile her pulse quickened a little as she though: what happiness in would be to nurse t 16 fever toased girl, fihould she be stricken ( gwn, and luring her back to like an_d health. Sister Christine was the name by which she was known. and many a. poor dying wretah blessed her with his last breath, and commended to her care some loved oneâ€" wife, husband or child, struggling in the next room. perhaps, with the dread destroyer. Money Christine had in plenty, for Margery kept her suppliedhand it was spent like water where it was of any avail, so that Sister Christine became a pewer in the desolated city, and was knOWn in every street and alley of the town. Queenie had written to Mar- gery of her intez'jtieus, and with a cry of hor- ror on her lips Margery read the letter,- and then telegraphed to Christine : .... .. Oeoasionally, during her stay in Jackson- ville. Qu enie had walked slowly past the Convent of St. Joseph; speculating upon its inmates and wondering if within its walls there was not perfect rest for a heart as sad as hers, and with as little love left in it for for any living thing or human interest. Once. too, while there, she had been present at a ceremonial where three nuns took the black veil and pledged themselves to a life of self- denial and sacrlfioe. This scene had greatly impressed her, especially as one of the girls was very young and pretty, too, and the sister of the presiding bishop, and for weeks she remembered the sweet face and clear, musical voice which. in perfectly steady tones, had renounced the world and all its vanities, pre- ferring to live for God and the good of all mankind. In his remarks to the trio thus owing up everything which women hold most ~ car the bishop dwelt at length upon the h appinese and purity of a cloistered lite, free 17: em all temptation, and had spoken of that lowly home in Nazareth as the first eon- vcnt, where Mary lived her holy life, with only her baby and the saintly Joseph for com- panions. And just here Queenie roused from her reverie, and With a great heart throb for her lost Phil, said to herself: “ Queenie i576: wifl be there. Find her at once and send her away. Queenie must not. die.” But now her opportunity had come. and though she did not wear the sisters’ garb. she mould follow the example of those heroic wo- men who she knew went so fearlessly to Fer- nandina when the scourge was there, and who were busy now in Memphis, whence a. second cry hfd come. By Mrs. Mary .I. Holmes, Author of "Tempest and Sunshine." “Daisy Thornton." “Ethelyn’s Mistake," "Fortes Bouse.‘ etc. “ That was dlfierent. Mary might well be happy thh her baby and her Joseph ; but. these girls will have neither. No. I am not good enough to ha a nun. I am not good engugh for anything.” .ua. “ I am going,” she said. to Margery, “ for I feel that I can do some good. I am not a bad nurse, and if I pan save one life or ease one dying pillow. maybe 1: will‘ atone to God for some of my misdeeds. I am not afraid of the fever. and if I should take it and die. better so than end my own life, as I am often tanipted {.0 _do." Ber mind was made up, and Margery did not oppose her, but promised her plenty of money in case it should be needed. And so the mother and daughter were bound for the same Workâ€"the oneto have something to do, the other to atone. It was a. fancy of Mrs. La Rue to assume the gray dress of a lay sister, as she felt freer and safer in this garb. and could go where she pleased. It was not her wish to be hampered by any restric- tions ; and when the physicians saw how efiieient and fearless she was, they let her take her own course and do as she liked. And so the next night the northern train for Savannah took in it Pierre and Queenie. hound for the fever smitten city where the people were dying ~ so fast and help was sorely needed. By some strange coincidence, while Queenie was making up her mind to go to Memphis, Christine La Rue was already there. She, too, had heard the cry for help, and it roused her from the state bor- dering on insanity into which she was fall “ Yes, I must go," she said to Axis. “Some- thing which I cannot resist is calling me to Memphis. What 1: is I cannot tell, but 1 must go.” _ CHAPTER XLIXâ€" (CONTINUED). 9051mm HETHERI‘ON. But Queenie stood erect upon her feet, rigid sea piece of marble, and almost as white, while her eyee,whieh seemed to Pierre to shoot out gloom» of fire, were turned wildly toward the form lying so motionless man the room, with the white, shepelynond The words kept repeating themselves over and over in Queenie’s mind until her brain became confused ; the present faded away mto the far 013 past and she was one of those weary watchers in London, listening to the cry: “ Bring out your dead." And she was bringing hersâ€"was carrying the young man whose long limbs dragged upon the floor, and whose head droo'ped upon her shoulder. while his dead face, not yet cold, touched here with a caressing motion which brought with it a thought of poorPhil. lying beneth the Indian waters. It was a horrid nightmare, and Queenie struggled with it. a moment. and then awoke with a cry of Phil upon her lips-a cry so loud that the sleeper upon the bed started a. litnle, and moaned, and said something in- distinctly, and moved uneasily, then set tled again into slumber, and all was quiet as ever. ‘ Bring out your dead ; dead." “ Let him sleep; it will do him good and keep back the dreadful vomit," Christine had said. and not for worlds would Queenie dis- obey her. She held a. human life in her keep ing, and with her finger on her lip to Pierre, who crouched almost at her feet, she seated herself in an arm-chair just where she could see the outline of the figure upon the bed, and there for hours she sat and watched that figure, and listened to the irregular breath ing, while every kind of wild fancy danced through her bruin.end her limbs began at last to feel prickly and numb, and a sense of cold and faintness to steal over her. The air in the team was hot and oppressive, though the windows were opened wide. 0ut~ side the rain was falling heavily, and the sky as black as ink; there was no sound to break the awful stillness. except theoceasional tread of some physician or nurse on duty. or the crash of distant wheels. whose meaning Queenie understood full well. shuddering as she thought of the rapid burials which the peril made necessary, and remembering what she had read of the great plague in London, where the death cart rolled nightly through the street, while the dreadful cry was heard : It was a large, handsome roomâ€"one of the best, it would ’ seem, in the hotel-but it seemed gloomy and cheerless new, with only a. nig ht- Jump burning on the table, casting weirdg shadows here end there. and only par- tially revealing the form upon the bedâ€" the form of a tall young man, buried in the pil low. Outside the counterpene one arm and hand was lying. and Queenie noticed that the latter was white and shapely as a women's, and noticed, too. the mess of light brown, slightly curling hair, which clustered around the sick man’s head and sent an indescribable thrill through her veins. as if something iomilisrâ€"something seen before. The man was young, she know, though she had not seen his face, and dared not see it lest she should disturb him. “Better so ; better 50, better for me to die; but for you, oh I Queenie. you must live-â€" you andâ€" Oh, my child, summon all your strength and courage ; you will need it all. There is hard work ahead for you. Do you think you of": meet it 2" Queenie had thrown 03 her street dress and put on a comfortable wrapper, when there came a quick, sharp ring, and Pierre brought her a note. or rather a bit of paper torn from a pocket tablet, and on which was written in French: Queenie did not know what the woman meant,. but she wan greatly moved and agita- ted, and shook from head to tom with a name- less terror. “You, too, are cold and trembling, and that will never do. Drink-drink this." Christine said, pouring from a. flask which she always carried with her a quantity of brandy, and ofiering 1t to Queenie, who swallowed it in one draught. The brandy steadied her nerves, and after standing a. moment watching Christine as she went slowly down the stairs. holding to the banieters, like one anfl'eriug from great physical weakness. she 1urned toward the door of the nick-room and opening it softly. went in. “I believe I am growing nervous myself, and that will never do," she thought, as' she felt a faintnese stealing over her and a kind of chill creeping through her vieus, communi- cated. she believed. by the message she had received. There were bright red spots noon her cheeks. but the lips which touched Queenie were cold as ice. as was the hand which acci‘ dentally brushed Queenie’s cheek. Ordin- arily Queenie would have resented this liberty, but she did not now. She was too much excited to resent anything. and she was so glad afterward that it was soâ€"glsd that she had some thought and outs for Christine, Lo whom she said, as she felt her lips and an 2 "How cold you are, and why do you trem- ble so 2 You surely must be ill. Don’t go out to-night ; there must be plenty of vacant rooms nere. Stay and rest yourself. We can- not_let youdie.” She had one of Christine’s cold hands in her own, chafing and rubbing it as she spoke, but when she said, so kindly, "We canuo‘ let you die,” the woman draw it away suddenly. and bursting into a proxysm of tears, ex- claimed: "Come immediately to No. 40â€"street. You are needed there." “Cnms-rmn.” The handwriting was very uneven, as if penned in great excitement, and as Queenie looked wonderingiy at it there swept over her an undefinable apprehension of something. she could not tell what -a feeling that this call from Chfhtine on such a night was no ordinary call, and the need no ordinary one. Never before had Christine sent for her. but, on the contrary. always tried to shield and spare her as much as possible from fatigue or exposure, but this"Come, you are needed.” was imperative, and, with trembling hands and a strange thinking of what she was to do, she donned her usual every day attire, and, with Pierre, started for No. 40. It was a kind of private hotel which had remained free from infection until within a day or two when the fever had suddenly broken out in its most malignant form. Two of the inmates had already died, one the wife of the proprietor, who, with his guests, had fled in dismay, leaving behind a young man who had come to the city the previous day, and who was now lying senseless in an upper chamber. where Christine had found him, burning with fever and raving with delirium. It was a very bad case, aggravated by nervous excitement and fatigue, but she had done for him what she could, and then had sent for Queenie. whom she met on the landing outside the sick-room. and to whom she explained why she had sent for her. Then she gave some minute directions with regard to the treatment of the patient who. she said, was sleeping. and must be allowed to sleep as long as possible. She seemed greatly excited as-she talked. and there was a strange glitter in her eyes, and occasionally an incoherency in her manner of expressing herself, especially with regard to the sick man. which made Queenie look curiously at her. wondering if she were altogether in her right mind. When all had been said which was necessary to say, Christine still stood irresolute, as it were, looking fixedly at Queenie; then, with a sudden upward move ment of her arms, she wound an arm around around the young girl’s neck, and kissing her forehead. said: “ He is very sick," she said. “ and needs the closest watching, and I knew of no one who would be as faithful as you, for I must be elsewhere to-mght. This kind of weather has increased the danger tenfold. and there is nojelling where it will end." “ God bless you, my child, and keep you‘ an_:_i__all those wt;or_n_you lgve, from hatmf’ THE GCCUPART 0! N0. CHAPTER L. bring out your So they went together to the sick room, where Phil lay with his {ace turned more fully to the lig hty and showing distinctly how pinched angd pellid it was. Had Queenie’s own life depended upon it, she could not have forbome going swiftly up to him and softly kissing his pale forehead; than she knelt down beside him, and so close to him that her dark hair touched the curls of light brown as she buried her {see in her hands, and Christine knewthst she was pinyin; earnestly “Too late; it has come too late,” she thought to herself, while to Queenie she said: ‘- I must go to him now, for what 1 do must be done quickly. A few hours longer and it will be too late.” " Tell me,” she gasped, when she was able to speak. “ Wasit a dream, or was it Phil. whom I thought dead beneath the sea 2 Tell me, Christine, is it Phil. and will he die 7” “ It is Phil," Christine replied. “ saved from the sea, I know not how, only that he is here, that he came seeking for you, and I 'found him with the fever, late yesterday after noon, and did {or him what I could Then I sent for you, and the rest you know. Only be quiet now. I do not think he will die. ” “ 0h, save him, save him, and you shall have my gratitude forever. I have been cold and proud. but 1 will be so no longer, if you give me back my Phil " Queenie said, with choking solos, as yshe knelt at Christine's feet, and clasped the hem of her dress. “ I will do what I‘ can.” Christine replied, while again through every nerve throbbed the old sick feeling which she could not putaside, even in her exquisite joy that Queenie might at last he won. When Queenie’s shriek echoed through the room so near to him, he had aroused from his sleep, and was moaning and talking to himself, without. apparently any real con- lcionsness as to wherehe was. But Christine's soothing handmund the medicine she admin istored. quieted him at once. and leaving him in Piano’s care, she went btwk to Queenie, who 1mg recovering from her swoon. And thus the time passed on until her quick ear caught the sound of voices and footsteps in the sick-room, and she heard Queenie’s wild cry for her as if in that hour of peril she was the one person in all the world of whom there was need. Queenie had turned to her at last as the child tu to its mother in peril. and with swift feet Christine went to the rescue, and almost before Pierre knew she was there, she had the unconscious girl in her arms and was beating her into the room, where for hours she had waited so patiently. Fitting her in a safe and upright position upon a cushion, she ran back to Phil, who, she knew, must be her first and principal care. “Keep very quiet, and I’ll soon have you well,” she said. and Phil did whatever she bade him do, though his mind began to wander again, and he talked constantly of Queenie, ».hem he had come to find. At last, however. he fell away to sleep, and then it was that Christine sent for Queenie, and establishing her in the room, went out into the adjoining chamber and waited,know ing that sooner or later she would be needed. All through the weary hours which preceded Queenie’s cry for help she sat alone in the darkness, alternately shaking with cold and and burning with fever, wh.le in her heart was a feeling amounting to certainty that her work was done. that the deadly yfaintness stealing over her at intervals, and making her so sick and weak, was a precursor of the end. But she must live long enough to save Phil Rossiter, and give him back to Queenie who might feel some little gratitude toward her, and think more kindly of her when she was gone. So she fought back her symptoms bravely. and rubbed her cold, damp face when it was at its coldest and then leaned far out of the open window into the falling rain when it was at its hottest. l Christine had found the young men late the previous afternoon and recognized him at once, experienced such a. shock as had set every nerve to quivering, and made her feel that at last her own strength was giving way. 1‘0 save him for Queenie was her great desire and, with a prayer on her lips. and a prayer in her heart, she worked as she had never worked before to ally the burning fever and quiet hie_diaordered mind. â€" Once. during a lucid interval, he looked in- to her face, and knew her. "Ohriutiha," he said. faintly, “where is Queenie ? I came to find her. Don’t let me die till I have seen her." T‘Queenie ie hereIwill sendfor her at once. Do not be afraid I will not let you‘die. Your case is not very bad,” Christine replied. speaking thus emphatically and against her own convictions, because she saw how fright- ened he was himself, and knew that this would only augment the disease and lessen his chances for recovery. She saw that he was very sick. but would not let him know it, and by her hopeful,rea.a- suring manner did as much toward savmg iah life is her skllful nursing: There was a clock upon the mantel, and Queenie saw that it was half-past two. The early summer morning would soon break, and then she would see the face of this stranger who had called for Queenie, and whose head endhair were so like her last Phil’s that, as she looked, with straining.» eager eyes, and whirling brain. it seemed to her at last that it was Phil himself â€"Phil, drowned and dead, perhaps. but still Phil, come back to her in some incomprehensible manner, just to mock her a moment, and then to be snatched away again forever. But she would see him first distinctly. would know if it were a phantom or a reality lying there upon the bed within her reach, for she had advanced a few steps forward, and could have touched the head upon the. pillow. ” Pierre," she said, at last, when she could endure the suspense no longerâ€"“ Pierre," and her voice sounded to herself like the echo of something a. thousand miles away. “ am I go ing mud, or is thatâ€"is thatâ€"” and she pointed :8 the tallfigure on the bed. It was a loud. wailing cry, that call for Christine, and the next moment Queenie lay across the foot of the bed, where she had fallen in a death-like swoon, while over her bent Christine. She had not left the house at all, but had sat below, waiting for some such denouement when the truth should be- come known to Queenie. still outside the counterpane. and the light brown wavy hair upon the pillow. He had spoken-had called a name, which the excited girl had recognized as .her own. She could not be mistaken In answer to her cry for Phil the fever patient had aroused a little and responded : “ Queenie." She was sure of it. He might not have meant her. it is true. There were other Queenies in the world. no doubt, but he had called her nameâ€"this man, who in her dream she was carrying to the death-cart. and who might, perhaps, go there when the morning dawned. "Nor shall I disturb him; but I shall see him. Bring the light!” Queenie said, per emptorily, as she moved to the other side of the bed. toward which the sick man’s face was turned. ' “Nearer, Pierre; hold the lamp alittle nem_rer,»plea§§." 7 , . . “6h, Pierre, Pierre! it isâ€"it isâ€"myPhilâ€" comeback to we again! Christine! Christine! 00918, and help If’ Not comprehending her in the least, Pierre stared at her wondermgly, with a great fear that her min] was really unsattled by all the terrible scenes through which she had passed. ” Bring the light. I must see the face of this young man. I cannot wait till morning.” “ But, mademoiselle,” Pierre remonstrated, “ Think of the harm, the danger to him. Ohnstine' 3 orders were to let him sleep; he was not to be disturbed. " Carefully pushing down the pillow, so as to bring the features more distinctly to View. Queenie stood for one brief instant gazing upon them; then, turning to Pierre, she whis- pared: He obeyed her. and as the full rays of the light fell upon the white, pinched face of the sleeper, Queenie threw her arms high in the air. and, in a voice Pierre would never have recognized as hers, cried out : " Is it what ?” he asked, coming to hér side, and 5119 repfiieqr: _ " There is a. great deal of good in her, and I must always be kind to her because of what she has done for Phil," she thought, and she felt glad that all the old bitterness and resent- ment were gone, and that although she could not think of Christine as her mother, she srs'rna cumsrmu. 80 absorbed had Queenie been with Phil that she had failed to notice anything which was passing around her, or to think of any. thing except her great happiness. She knew that sometime duringtne morning Pierre had brought her coffee and rolls, which he had managed to find somewhere near, he said, and which he made her eat. He had also given her some orders with regard to Phil's medi. cines, saying that Madame La Rue bade him do so, and to say that Miss Hetherton must be very particular not to forget. And Queenie had not forgotten that. though all else was a blank to her until Phil went to sleep, and she sat watching him and wondering by what strange chance the sea had given up its dead and restored him to her. Then, as she heard a city clock strike eleven, she began to think how fast the hours had sped, and to wonder at, little at Christine’s prolonged absence froml the room. And still that did not surprise her much, for she naturally supposed she had gone to some other sick-bed, where she was needed more than there with Phil. Nor aid he, though he smiled lovingly upon her. and lifting his head feebly, smoothed her fair round cheek, where her blushes Were burning so brightly. He knew that Qaeeme could not change her nature any more than the leopard can change his spotsâ€"knew that at times she would be the same little‘ willful. imperious girl she had always been, defying his authority and setting at naught his wishes. And he would" not have her other- wise if he could ; he should not know her if the claws were always sheathed and she was gentle and sweet as (she was now. Loving and true she would always be. and so repent- ant when her moods were over that it would be well worth his while to bear with them oc- casionally, as he was sure to have to do. But he did not tell her so ; he did not tell her any- thing. for he was too weak to talk, so he only looked his love and happiness through his eyes, which rested constantly upon her face. until at last even that became to him as some- thing seen through a mist, notaltogether real, and he again fell into a quiet sleep. with his hand resting in Queenie’s. “ No, not even grandma’s purple gloves can ever worry me again. Oh, Phil, I have re- pented so bitterly of all my pride, and I shall never, never be so any moreâ€"shall never be angry with you, or any one, or indulge in one of my moods! I wish I could make you un- derstand how changed I am, for I see you do not quite believe me.”_ “ Not even the Fergusons 2" Phil answered her once, with his old. teasing smile. which made him so like the Phil of other days that Queenie laughed aloud, and, shaking her head gayly, said: So Queenie sat by him all that morning seldom speaking to him, but‘often bending over him to kiss his forehead or hands, and occasionally murnquring : “ Dear Fhil, and I afn so gladâ€"no happy Nothing will ever trouble me again.” “ Very, very far away, but I cannot tell you now," said Phil, knowing himself that he must not talk longer then; but he would not let her leave him; he wanted her there beside him, where he could touch her hand, and look into her fame and beaming eyes, which dazzled and bewildered him with their bnght- ness. “ You must not talk any more now. You must get well, and then I can heat it allâ€" whele you have been and why yen are not dead. 0h. Phil. it was so horribleâ€"every- thing which has happened to me since you went away. I am nnbodyâ€"N body, Phil ; no name, no right to be born, and I was once so proud. Did they tell you, Phil? Do you know who I am ?»" c " Yes, they told me; I know, poor little Queenie,” Phil replied, with a tighter clasp of the hand which y in his. Ska did nnt m: him if it wnnlfl mn‘lrn mnv She did not ask him if it would make any difference with his love. She knew it would not. She had always felt sure of Phil; he was hers -forever, and the old joy began to come back, and the nld light sparkled in her eyes. which shone like stars as she went on : "it was so dreadful when I found it out, and I wanted to die, because you, too, were dead, or I thought you were, and I used to whisper to you in the dark night, when 1 could not sleep, and I thought maybe you would come and let‘me know in some way that you were sorry for me. Where were Phil, when I was wanting you so much ‘2” that he might be spared to her. At lost, just as the dawu was breaking and the first grey of the morning was stealing into the room, he moved as it about to weaken, and with a quick, imperative movement of her hand Christine put Queenie behind her, sayinq as she did so: " He must not see you yet. Keep out of his sight till I tell you to come.” :He'was very wâ€"eak, anti Queâ€"efiie saw it, and drawing herself from him said : Fearful least she should attract his atten- tion it she left the room, Queenie crouched upon the floor, close beside the bed. and waited with a throbbingheartfor the moment when she might speak and claim her love. Phil was better ; the long.sleep had done him good. but there was a drowsiness over him still, and he only opened his eyes a moment, and, seeing Christine bending over him, smiled gratelully upon her. and said : “ You are so good to me.” Then he took the draught she gave him and slept again, this time quietly and sweetly as a. child, while Queenie sat upon the floor fearing to move or stir lest she should dis- turb him. Slowly the minutes dragged on until at last it was quite light in the room The heavy rain had ceased ; the dense fog had lifted and the air which came in at the window was cool and pure, and seemed to have in it something of life and invigora- tion. Her tears were falling like rain upon his rm, and her voice was choked with sobs, as she made this avowal of her love, without 'a' shadow of shame or feeling that she was de- ing anything unmaidenly. Phil was hers. Nothing could change that, or his love for her. She was as sure of him as she was that she breathed, and she had no hesitaney in pouring out the full measure of her affection for him. Both Christine and Pierre had stolen from the room. leaving the lovers alone in that first blissful moment of their reunion. For a, time Phil lay perfectly still and took her caresses and kisses in silence. Then summoning all his strength, he wound his arms around the little girl, and hugging her close to him whispered : “Heaven can séarcely be better than this Oh: Queenie 1 my darling [ my pet!” Phil must have felt the revivifying influ- ence of the change, for he breathed more naturally and there came a faint color to his lips, and at last, just. as a my of sunlight stole into the room and danced upon the wall above his head, he awoke to perfect consci- ousness, and, stretching his hand suward Christine, said : She was kneeling beside him one arm un- der his neck, while with the other she cut- essed his face, and kissing him passxonately continued : “011, Phil, I thought you were dead, and it broke my heart. for I did love you all the time. and I found it out wneu it was too late and you were gone, and I mourned for you so much. and all the brightness went out from my life; but it will come back again with you, my darling! my darling l” “ l‘he weathex: has changed, thank God," Christine murmured, while Queenie, tea wiggppred, “‘Than_k_Go_d ! than}: God @"7 “ You have saved my life and I thank you; but for you I should have died when that dreadful sickness .come. How long have I been here, and where is Queenie 7 I dreameJ she was here." As the tones of the‘ voice she had never ex- pected to hear again fell upon her ear Queenie couli no longer restrain herself, but spring- ing up, she bent over Phil and said : :‘1 Iain hereâ€"here, Phil, my love, my darl ing, and nothing shall part us again. 1 am__not you_r coqgin,_an<_1_1 opp love you now.’ CHAPTER LI. "I have nothing to forgive : the wrong was all my own. and I deserved your scorn. But oh, Queenie. my child, you can never know how I was temptedâ€"was lead on. step by step, to my downfall ; and after I had kept Mergery’e birth a. secret, I must go on eon. sealing, There was no other way. He would have murdered me. or left me to starve with you. Oh, Margery, Margery, my other dear- est child, for she has been all the world to me, and I loved her so much. Tell her so, Queenie ; tell her I blessed her with my lest‘ Queenie explained that he was sleeping quietly. and that she believed all danger pas- sed. Then, sitting down by the bedside, she took the hot burning hands in hers. and rub- bed and bathed them as carefully and gently as if they had been Phil’s, instead of this woman’s, toward whom she had felt so bitter and resentful. All that was gone now, and she was conscious of a strange feeling fixed upon her with so much yearning tender- ness and love. This woman was her mother. Nothing could change} that ; whatever her faults had been, she was a good woman now, Queenie believed ; and at last. as the dim eyes met her constantly and appealingly, she bent close to the pillow, and said : " Mother, I am -sorry I was so unforgiving and bad. It came so suddenly, and was so A low, pitiful or} was Chastine’s only an five; for a moment, and then she said : "I am sickâ€"I am dying; but I did not want you to know. I wished to spare you and him. How is he now ?” ' “011, Christine. you are sick and you did not let me know it, or I should have come before 1” For an instant Christine‘s lips quivered in a pitiful kind of way ; than the great tears rolled down her cheeks. as she whispered faintly : He might as well have talked to the wind for all the head Queenie gave him. Bidding him sit by Phil until he awoke. andthen come for her if she was needed, she went swiftly to the room where Christine lay, with deflth stamped on every lineament of her face, but with a calm, peaceful expression upon it, which told that she was glad for the end so fast ap- proqching. /' When Queenie entered, her eyes were closed but they opened quickly, and a smile of joy and surprise broke over her face, when Queenie exclaimed : “ You better not go there .’ she does not need y.ou One of the sisters' 13 with her, and she said you must stay with monsieur. All her anxiety is for him and you â€"none for her- nelf. She seems so glad to dle I" But when Queenie began to suspect, and insisted upon knowing the truth. he told it to her, adding, as he saw her about to dart away from him toward’s Christine’s room: “ Don’t tell her I am sick; don’t let her know until I am dead. Then tell her I was so glad to die and leave her free, and that I loved her so much, and am so sorry for the past,” she said to Pierre, who, half distracted with all he was passing through. wrung his hands nervously, and promised all she required. “They must not be disturbed-they must not know,” she said to Pierre, to whom she gave some orders concerning Phil’s medicines, which Pierre took to his mis‘ress. But Christine was past all human aid. The disease had attacked her in its worst form, and she knew she could not live to see an- other sun setting. SLe was very calm, how ever. and only anxious for Queenie and Phil. But on the first landing her strength failed her and she fell upon the floor, where she lay, or rather sat in a half upright position, lean- ing against the wall with her face in her hands, until a voice roused her and she looked up to see a man standing before her and ask- ing who she was and why she was there. It was the proprietor of the house, who, ashamed of his cowardice, had returned and going first through the rooms below where everything was as he left it, he started to ascend the stair to the chambers above. when he came upon Christine. whom he had often seen on her errands of mercy, but whom he did not recognize until she looked up and spoke to him. Then he knew her and ex- claimed . He was mortally afraid, but he was not so unmanly as to leave a. woman like Christine to die uncured for at the head of his own staircase, and helping her to the nearest room where there was a bed, he started for a. physi‘ cien. Meeting in the lower hall with Pierre. who had been out for Queenie’s coffee, and who explained to him that his house held an- other pstient. he told him of Christine and where she was, bidding him to look after her until help came from some other quarter. “ I am sickâ€"I have the fever,” she re- plied ; “ and if you are afraid, leave me at once.” “ I" can die there alone and so trohblé no one," she thought, as she made her way to the staircase. " Sister Christine I What are you doing here; and w_hr_zt igfihe mafier with you ?” could think of her quietly and calmly as of one who, if she had greatly sinned, had also greatly suffered for the sin and was trying to atone. “ P1111 andI will take care of her, though she cannot, of course, live with us. She will not expect that; " she thought, and her mind was busy with castles of the future, when Plerre looked 1n again just for an in- stunt and seeing Phil asleep, shut the door at once and went out again before she could eel: lain} a_question. But when the crisis was past and she felt sure Phil was safe, she could endure it no longer, and one long lingering look at Queenie. whom she felt she should never see again. she started for her own lodging. “ I must not give up yet ; I must endure and bear until he is out of danger. I must save him for her sake,” she thought, and fought down with a desperate courage and iron will the horrid sensations stealing over her so fast and making her sometimes almost beside herself with dizziness and languor, But in the glimpse she got of him, it seemed to her that there was an unusual look of con- cern-upon his face. while through the open door she caught a faint sound of voices in the distance and footsteps hurrying here and there. What was it? she asked herself, and felt tempted to go out and see for herself, but Phil’s hand was olasping hers and she would not free herself from it lest she shouldawaken him. So she still eat on till the clock struck twelve and the hum of voices was occasion- ally home to her ears by the opening of some door further up the hall. There was some- body in the other part of the house besides Pierre-somebody sick. judging from the sounds, and she grew nervous at last and curious upon the subject, that she gradually withdrew her hand from Phil’s, and rising softly was about to leave the room when Pierre looked in again, and this time she could not be mistaken with regard to the expression on his face. which was very pale an. i troubled as it look wistfully at her. “Yes," he answered. "It is Madame Chris- tine, and she is very had. She will die, the doctor fears, but she smd you .must not know. You must not leave Mr. Rossiter for her and she sent me many times to see how he was.” Pierre was right. for in a small room at the end of the hall Christine La Rue was dying. She who had braved so much and home so much and passed through so many dangers unscathed, had at last succumbed to the ter- rible disease which she knew was creeping upon her, when she sent for Queenie to share her gigils by Phil’s bedside. “What is it, Pierre 7" she asked in a whis- per, going close to him and observing that he stood against the door as if to keep hex from passing. “Whose voices do I hear and is any one sick ‘2 I was just coming to ascer- tain. Let me pass._please.” “Do 9.1} you can for her ‘2 For whom? Who is it. that is sick, and said I must not know?” Queenie. naked, imperioualy, as she put the trembling old man aside, and opening the door, drew him with her into the hall. “Now tell me the truth,” she continued. "15 some one sick whom I ought to see? Is itâ€"is it- Chriatine ‘2” “No, no, mademoiselle. Don‘t come. She said you were not to know. We are doing all we can for her," Pierre cried, in great alarm. tlms letting out the secret he had been told to keep â€"â€"According to’ the St. Petersburg corre- spondent of the Cologne Gazette, a Supreme Council of State is to come into existence in Russia at the Russian new year. This council is to carry on all the business of the empire independently of the Czar, the latter retain- ing the decision only of questions of war and peace. His union with Princess Dolgorouki ‘will be proclaimed asa legal marriagemithout herbecoming. however, Empress. She is to receive the title of Duchess of Holstein-Grot- torp, and her children will be princes and; princesses of the same name’ Henceforthl the Czar is expected to live with his family in retirement at Livadia. remaining Emperor in name, but, so far as Russian circumstances permit, transferring the cares of business to his sen. -â€"The failure in his old age of Mr. Mechi. one of the kindest and most liberal-minded of men, will excite widespread sympathy. For the last forty years he has been one of the most prominent men in England. and Mechi’s magic paste and razor strops have been scarcely less renowned than Tiptree Hall, his model farm near London. Some twenty yers ago Mr. Mechi unwarily became con- nected with a. joint-stock bank, which failed disastrously and let him in for a hetvy sum. ablew from which, it is likely enough, he never recovered. He was almost as well known to agriculturists out of England as to those in it, and visitors of the first distinction flocked to his farm from all parts of the world. Mr. Mechi is descended from the hair dresser of Queen Caroline, wife of George II.,’ who accompanied her when she came to re- side in England. â€"A New York lady, who lately became a widow, has received a. visit from a. former poor tenant who said that eleven years ago lhe had moved out of a house belonging to the lady’s husband, leaving {$5 owing to him. She could not afldrd to pay it at once, but would do so by instalments. And Phil was right ; it was far better, for, had she lived, she could only have been a source of unhappiness to Queenie, who, with the best of intentions, could not always have concealed her humiliation and pain, and could never fully have received her as a. mother. God knew best, and took to himself the weary woman, who had been more sinned against than sinning. and whose memory was held in the hearts of those Whose lives she had been instrumental in saving as the memory of a saint. “ There was much that was noble and good in her," she said, “ and I am glad I feel as I do. Had she lived I would have tried so hard to do right. and with you to help and encour- age me I might have succeeded.” “ Yes,” Phil answered her, “ I am sure you would have tried; but it, is better as it isâ€" better for her to be at rest.” . Notwithstanding the hour and her own fa.- tigue, Queenie was among the number who stood by the open gmve where all that was mortal of Christine was buried.1md she would not leave until the grave was filled and all the work was done. Then, taking Pierre’s arm. she went back to thehotel, and.goingto Phil’s room, laid her tired head up on the hands he stretched toward her and allied bitterly while Phil soothed and caressed her until she grew quiet and could tell him all the particulars of Christine’ 3 death. " She nursed me when I was a baby, and I must care for her now,” she said to Sister Agatha, when she remonstrated with her and offered to take the task from her hands. And to Queenie it was a. mournful pleasure thus to care for the woman who had been her mother, and who. she felt, was truly good and repentant at; the last. “ I am glad I feel so kindly toward herâ€" glad I called her mother,” she thought, and was conscious of a. keen pain in her heart as she looked upon the White dead face on which suffering and remorse had left their marks. Sister Christine was dead. and there was mourning for her in the city where she was so well known, and where her kindness and gentleness and courage had won her so many friends, some of whom followed her remains to their last resting-place. Every respect which it was possible under the circum stances to pay her was paid to her. Many gathered about the grave where they buried her, just after the sun setting on the same day of her death. It was Queenie who pre pared her for the coflin, suffering no other hands to touch her but her own. "Yes, yes," she gasped, and a look of un‘ utterable love and satisfaction shone in the eyes which looked up at Queenie. " I know â€"I know you are Queenie the baby born at Marseilles-my ownâ€"and you kiss me and call me mother. God bless you, my child, and make you very happy. Iam glad for your sake that I am going away. Good-by, my darling, good-by !” She never spoke again, though it was an hour or more before Queenie loosed her hold on the hand whlch clung so tightly to hers, and: closing the eyes which looked at her to the last, smoothed the bed-clothes decently, and then going out to Pierre, who was wait ing in the hall, and told him all was over. She talked but little after that, and when she did sp eak her mind was wandering in the past now Pat Chateau des Fleurs when she was a young girl and good. she said, now in Rome, where she watched by her mistress’ bedside, but mostly in Marseilles, where her baby was born, “ her darlmg little girl baby,” whom she bade Queenie be kind to when she was gone. Then she talked of Margery and Paris, a. the apartments in the Rue St. Honors, til her voice was only a. whisper, and Queenie could not distinguish a word. She was dying very fast. and just at the last, before her life went out forever, Queenie bent over her, and kissing'her softly, whispered : During this conversation, which was car- ried on in French, the sister whom the phy- sicirn had sent to attend Christine stood look- ing on wonderingly, and never dreaming of the relationship between the two. She was. however, anxious lest so much talking and excitement should be injurious to her pa- tient, and she said so to Queenie, who re- plied : “ Mother. do yeti know flint I afn here-â€" Queenieâ€"your little girl ?" breath, and loved her with all my strength, mi 30111, and might. Margery, Margery l She is so sweet. so good, so true 1 God bless her. and make her perfectly happy I" “ Yes, you are right. I should try to quiet‘ her now. If you will be kind enough to look after the young man in No. 40. I will stay with Sister Christine. She wishes it to be so. She was my nurse in France. I knew herâ€"herâ€"” For a time Christine lay perfectly still, with her eyes closed, but her lips were constantly moving, and Q Ieenie knew that she was pray. ing, for she caught the words : “ Yes,” the dying woman answered. faintly. ”I hope I am forgiven, and that I shall find rest beyond the grave. I used to pray so much in the cottage when I was alone â€"pray sometimes all night with my face on the cold floor. But the pence I asked for would not come. There was always a horror of blackness before me until since I came here, when the darkness has been clearing, and now there is peace and joy, forI feel that God forgives me all my sin, and you, my child, have forgiven me too, and called me mother, and Phll il alive and safe». I’ve nothing more to live for, and I am so glad to die.” “ Knew her ddughter. She was talking of her to me.” This satisfied the woman, who, bowing assent, went from the room, leaving the two alone. - And all the while Queenie held the hot hands in hers, and occasionally smoothed the glay hair back from the pale brow where the sweat of dealh was gathering so fast. At last Christine opened her eyes and looked fixedly at Queenie, who said to her very gently 2 1" Forgive forvchrist’s sake. who forgave the thief Vatythe very last horur l”, “ What is it? Do you wish to tell me something ?” , Queenie hesitated a moment, and then added : â€"The Cincinnati Gazette says that 150 men slept in the city station house in asingle night because they had neither money nor shelter, while advertisements were out for 300 laborers on a. single railroad, and only 100 could be obtained. â€"The new Minister of War in Belgium in- tends to propose the transformation of the Belgian lancers into regiments of dragoons, as the lance is found to be an impracticable weapon. , Robert Ingram was the son of Thomas In- gram, sen.. of the township 0! Puslinch, and a brother of Constable Thomas Ingram, jr., who has figured in some very clever detective business in and around Hamilton recently. The awful death of Robert, who was a favor- ite son of the old people, will be a severe blow. The body was taken home to his father’s house, Aberfoyle. and the funeral, which was largely attended, took place yesterday. “ Yesterday morning Robert Ingram. a brakeman in the employ of the Detriot & Bay City railroad, while coupling cars at the Michigan avenue crossing slipped and fell in such a manner that the wheels of a box car passed over his legs, horribly crushing them. He was carried to the Two Mile House near by and shortly afterward suffered ampu- tation of one of the legs by Doctors Brodie and Law. Soon after the operation he died. Deceased was unmarried, about 24 years of age, and came from Guelph, Ont. After he was carried to the house he was visited by the trainmen on whose train he was to have gone when it was made up, and he bade them all good by, remarking. “well, boys, after eight years I’ve got it at last.” He had quite re- cently two narrow escapes from death. Justice Campau impaneled a. jury to hold lan inquest. The jury sat at the office of the ‘ justice and listened to testimony as to the manner of the accident. Henry Allsop. gate- keeper at the crossing, testified that he was standing at the door of the signal-house as the unfortunate brakeman gave ,the signal to the engineer to back up. He (the brakeman) then ran between two cars to pull out the pin. As he stepped back he slipped and tell, and the car passed over him. The cars were being shunted to the various tracksin order to make up the train. The jury rendered a verdict in accordance with the testimony of the gate- keeper, and added their belief that the cross- ng should be kept free from ice." The Awful Death of Brakeman Rober Ingram. The Detroit Free Press of Friday last 0011- tain§_the fqllowmg sad story F It is related that on one occasion the late Mr. Thackeray was out walking with his friend “Jacob Omnium,” a still taller man than. he was. They came to a little local fair with its shops and shnws, Pausing before the tent of the giant, the dwarf, and the fat woman. to tell his companion to straighten up, the novelist gravely passed into the tent, dropping on the head of the woman who took toll. the perfidious phrase,â€"â€"“We’re in the profession i” We are reminded of this jest of the great Englishman by reading in M. Alphonse Kerr's “Livre de Bord,” of a some- what similar scene in France. It happened that Lablache, the singer, who was a tall, robust man. had an appartment in the house in which rooms were taken for Tom Thumb when he came to Paris. A ring at the singer’s bell one morning brought him to the door, where a family of English visitors asked for the dwarf. Without hesitating, Lablache said. "I am Tom Thumb i" The English party started in astonishment. Drawing himself up to his full height, Labiache-con- tinued, “You seem surprised .; pethaps you have seen me on exhibition; but here at home I take my ease ?” This is much the ghost anecdote in Mr. Kerr‘s “ Logbook ;” i for the rest of it is but gentle gossip, and one feels but little the sting of the wasp. The book has no method in it ; it is only appar- ently chronological in order ; digressions are frequent ; and in the third volumeâ€"there are fourâ€"the same incidents appear more than once. In spite of these blemishes, and of the natural disappointment that the remin- iscences of a writer as prominent as M. Karr' are not of more value, one may get some amusement from the book. There is rather an interesting account of the growth of M. Victor Hugo‘s republicanism. M. Karr tells a curious incident of the poet’s fight against Napoleon the Little ; in 1852 the French custom house ofiicers along the Belgian fron- tier, devoted special attention to the capture of the forbidden ” Napoleon le Petit.” But the volumes continued to pass through the lines.‘ At last it transpired that they were smuggled into France concealed in hollow busts of Napoleon III 1 It is curious also to note that the pet phrase of our American 001. Mulberry Sellers was familiar in the mouth of an actual Frenchman, a friend of M. Kerr’s, (his name was Bohain).â€"â€"“ fly a la un million a gagner i” Prospects of Complete Emancipation Within Ten Years. R10 JANEIRO. Dec. 7, 1880.â€"The interpella- tion of the Premier in the Chamber of Dep- uties on the 25th ult. was a dull affair. ‘ The interpellator contented himself with a little buncombe about the sovereign rights of Brazil to regulate her social questions without the interference of foreigners, and comment- ling a little on Mr. Hilliard’s anti-slavery let- ter and attendance at the anti‘slavery ban- quet as official acts. The Premier, however, promptly threw cold water on the question by declaring that in the acts complaimed of Mr. Hilliard presented himself only in his indi- vidual capacity. and as such the government had no concern with them ; that it had no concern also with the emancipatory pro- paganda as long as it kept to legal ground. but that the govern- ment continued steadfast in the previously declared resolve to leave slavery to die out ‘gradually under the provisions of the law of 1 September 28th, 1871. This declaration has , given the planters much satisfaction. although ‘they keep up a little newspaper skirmishiug with the abolitionists. Notwithstanding the Government declarations the abolition move- ment has spread distrust, and judicial sales are failing from the absence of tenders, and except among the slaveowness the general feeling is that slavery Will be abolished within ten years, either by legislative enaction or by a general refusal of the slaves to remain in bondage. Notwithstanding, however, the ‘unwillinguess to hasten the term of emanci- 1pation, the great slave-holding provinces are alarmed at the probability of the other pro- 1vinces shooting their slayes upon them, and 1are aiming by legislation to prevent further accumulation. For this purpose the Legisla- ture of the Province of Rio J aneiro has just passed a law putting a tax of 1,000 milreis on slaves hereafter introduced from other pro~ vinces, unless wiren brought from an outside plantation to another inside be- longing to the same planter and same master, and that they were owned by him at the date of the law. Even the transfer ‘from one county to another in the Province is taxed fifty milreis. The province of St. Paulo is expected to pass a similar law next svssion, and there is no doubt but it will be followed by Miuas Geraes, Bahia and others within a short time. The Senate will probably get through the second reading of the Electoral bill early next week, and the Deputies have at last sent up the bill on patents to the San- ate. Two deputies, cousins, had a dispute last week in the chamber, and entertained the grinning listeners wish a close personal scru- tiny into their respective histories, and the exchange of such flowers of sp: ech as “ scounj drel” and “ liar.” and the customary invita- tions to se-tle their difi'erences in “ another place.” The Minister of Agriculture has sent up instructions to the Para authorities to assist Edison’s agent in every way in his ex- amination of the bamboos and fibres of the Amazon, and upresses great interest in the matter. SOME NEW ANECDOTES. CRUSHED BY CARS‘ SLAVERY IN BRAZIL.