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By the author of “ Kate’s Terrible Cousin,” “ The Stewards of Abbeylunds," etc. Valentine Lisle was a. vagrant ; his Whole life had been one long violation of all social laws. When a boy he ran away from school; and when a student he was politely requested to withdraw from his university at the end of his second term. Before he was twenty he quarreled with his father, left his home in consequence, and adopted art as a profession. For a time he got on splendidly. and was as happy and contented as it was possible for such aconfirmed vagrant to be; but a few year's exhausted his credit and wore out the patience of his friends ; so, when there were no more uncles, godfathers, maiden aunts, or oonfiding cousins to pay his debts, people be- gan to regard hirn ~with suspicion. . 1 Then he settled down to work, lodged on‘ the second floor of a great gloomy house in 3 one of those melancholy streets in the vicin-‘ ity of the Middlesex Hospital where artists of a certain class dearly love to congregate. wore a huge beard, sat or stood all day in his shirt sleeves, smoked incredible quantities of tobacco, consumed innumerable glasses of beer, and finally capped the climax of his offenses by marrying one of his models. This act severed the final threads that still bound him to his family. His mother. whose favor- ite he was, died because of it ; his older and only brother found it necessary to travel for two years after hearing of the calamity ; and his father formally disinheritcd him, without even the customary, though not veryoonsolatory, shilling. .. 1 After a. time old Sir Jasper was gathered to his fathers, without bestowing on vagrant Val even his blessing ; Jasper, his son, reigned in his stead at Lisle Hall, married the only daughter of Lord Torpor. and lived as a. respected and intensely respectable English county_gent1eman should live. a The bearded and Bohemian painter of] Newbum Street remained an alien and an outcast from his family. Disappointed. seedy‘ and solitary, he smeked his “ canister" and drank his ale in the shade of his dingy studio. surrounded by grand picturesâ€"histori- cal pieces, ideal pieces, landscapes, heads after every imaginable artist, studies from life and deathâ€"which were to make his for~ tune, but somehow, did not. Still he worked away industriously, tolerably cheerful in the midst of his difliculties. and astonishingly confident of the success of next year after the failures of nineteen. Yes, poor Val Lisle, after nearly twenty years, was a failure, a vagrant and Bohem- ian. Diane, his “ model” wife,after growing coarse, stout and a trifle shrewdish, had suc- cumbed to the dlflioulties of her position. She slept in the calm seclusion of Abney Park Cemetery. where five little Lisles were already resting under five unostentatious green mounds. Diana had her faults ; but, in spite of them, Val regretted her sincerely. To the last hour of her life the contour of her head and the turn of her throat were models that any painter might have been proud to copy ; though towards the end they were more appropriate for a Juno than a Venus. Though her voice was shrill and rather high- pitched, and her temper at the best of times rather variable. she had her good points, and one of them was a talent for house-keeping. She made her husband‘s odd guineas go as far as anybody could, and always managed somehow to secure a maxi. mum . of ailment with a minimum of expenditure. When she was gone. Val missed the savory and appetising stews which she concocted for supper, missed "the tasty bloster she always endeavored to secure for his breakfast, missed more than all her daily and nightly homily on the utterly ruinous state of their finances and the impossibility of their holding out any longer. Indeed it was a marvel how the shabby home in N ew- hurn street was kept together so long. But Mrs. Lisle's management was wonderful; the bargains she secured were almost incredible ; and, when she died, V9.1 missed her solely and mourned her sincerely. He had no one in the world then but Per-‘ sophone, an olive-skinned, hazeleyed girl of fifteen, straight-iimbed. slender, graceful, with thick curling lashes to her great eyes and black hair curling over her head and shoulders. Call a girl Persephone, but it is unreasonable to expect her to be like other girls. Valentine Lisle, being in some res- pects a not unreasonable man, saw the force of this ; and he did not expect his girl to he in the smallest degree useful, or like what Jane. Emmie or Polly might have been. Sometimes he feared she was not even going to be ornamental ; for her features were sharp, her shoulders narrow. and her com- plexion was frequently of the hue of yéllow ochre. But she was cleverâ€"wonderfully, prematurely clever. Her paintings her father said, were as good as his ownâ€"in truth they were much better; she wrote poetry by the ream, red romances by the score, and had managed to pick up, no one knew how, a smattering of_ French, German and Italian. 7 “Why don’t you try to get pupils, papa. 9” she saidy sullenly. “You teach much better than you paint." Val glanced curiously at the calm inscrut- able face, and heaved a deep sigh. Pierce was right perhapsâ€"she usually wasâ€"and his «making, in her case at all events, had been successful. 50 he advertised for a. pupil, and, wonderful to say. get one. Then Pierce roused herself, luid aside her dreaminess and selfishness, and made the second floor in Newborn Street seem more like home to the poor vagrant artist than it. had ever seemed lbefote. Once, about a. year after his wife’s death, Val Lisle turned to his daughter for eomtnrt and consolation. He tried to pour his wrongs, needs and difficulties into her ear, as he had done into her mother’s ; but the girl shrugged her shoulders a little contemptuously and went on with her drawiug. From the very first father and mother tac- itly consented to give way to Pierce; for they felt they could not hold out against the reso- lution expressed by the sternly- contracted brows and compressed lips of achild whobore every childish malady with the fortitude of an adult. and was never heard to express a wish that was impracticable or a complaint that was unreasonable. How much of the alteration was owing to the advent of Rex Davenant, the pupil, it is not (may to any ; but certainly from the day he paid his preliminary visit Pierce was dif Jierent. A brightness came into her face which glnddened the heart of her father, for it made her wonderfully beautiful. and beauty was still dear to the artist‘s soul. There was asoft flush in her usually colorless cheeks, a gleam of brightness in her dark hazel eyes, music in her joice, and lightness in her step Every one humored and gave way to her; and, as the little brothers and sisters one after another died, her father and mother more than ever indulged, spoiled, praised and patted the somewhat selfish and imperious little lady who, by the right divine of genius, reigned over the second floor in Newborn street. If Pierceâ€"so they called herâ€"wished for silence, it was the signal for an abrupt termination to the duet of reproach and re- monstrance that was so often performed in the parlor. If Pierce wanted paint or pencil, pen or paper, her need always charmed the last shilling from her mother’s somewhat closely-kept purse. -â€"in short, Pierce Lisle began to live frorh the day she first saw Rex Davenant standâ€" ing‘ in their shabby parlor, looking with un- disguiaed admiration from the drawings of the artist’s daughter to the girl herself. Pierce Lisle was not a very loving or per- haps a very lovable child. Hers was a firm, resolute, self-contained nature, neither seek- ing sympathy nor giving affection. Her arms were never thrown caressingly around her mother’s neck, her lips were never pressed ooaxingly to her father’s, she never climbed tohis Knee. clung to his neck. or used any other childish arts to gain any pleasure or iu‘ dulgenoe, possibly because all her wishes were granted as soon as they were expressed. He was a young man of about four and twenty, with frank sunny blue eyes, fair hair curling closely round his head, a heavy fair moustache, beautifully while even teeth, and PERSEPHONE. an honest, resolute. good humored chin. His face was not. a. pertlcularly handsome, striking, or intellectual one ; hundreds like it are to be seen in every town in England ; but it was pleasant, honest, and radiant with kindlinese. One would never have taken Rex Davenant for the hero of a romance, nor have fancied him, in any oircumstances,doing anything desperate ; he was simply a good looking.) healthy. happy young gentleman. with a loyal, lovable, truthful nature and a. pardonable craze for painting "muddled" pie. tures in watercolors. He could afford to dawdle with art, being tolerably rich, not extravagant, and possessed of splendid expectations. Not the least charm about Rex was his capacity for making himself at home where- ever he went. Before he had called half a. dozen times at the house in Newburn street he seemed to belong to the place ; and the great delight of Pierce’e life was to ‘ make the parlor pleasant for him. He had‘ three lessons at weekâ€"on Monday, Wednes- day, and Friday, from four to five; but, after a few months, he dropped in every evening as a matter of course. He ordered a pair of pie- tures for his chambers 1n Serjeants’ Inn, and Val worked hard Bl: them; but, when the ar- tist heard Rex’s light step on the echoing carpetless stairs, brushes and palette were flung aside, Pierce’s pencils were thrust into the case, and father and daughter welcomed the pupil cordially. Then Rex seated himself in the old Ameri. can rocking-chair, which had been specially covered and rte-cushioned for himâ€" Val bed an old eanebottomed loung- ing chair on the other side of the fire-end there they smoked and argued and criticised literature, music, and the drama, as well as their own profession, while Pierce, onelow stool in front of the fire, with a. volume of The Modern Paintersâ€"- one of MnDevenent’s giftsâ€"on her knee, listened to the conversation, and sometimes astonished both her father and his pupil by s. .well-timed_and judicious remark. It was a Happy autumn and winter for Pierceâ€"the happiest she had ever known. She was often at a loss to account for the new gladness and joy that had come into her life. and the new beauty she found in every- thing. Life was a pleasure and a triumph to‘ her , and her father, 1n his little studio over head, wondered as he heard her sing over her work with a voice as clear and blithe as a. sky- lark’s. The artist was happy himself too ;Mr. Davensnt puidliberally for his lessons, and brought him various small commissions,sucn as fans and hand-screens to be painted. which Pierce executed; and altogether the Lisles ‘ were in 1:. much more flourishing condition than they had been before. It could not have been an unhappy time for Rex Davenant either, or he would not have spent so many hours in that dingy second-floor parlor in Newburn street. Just before Christmas the pictures were finished, and Mr. Davenant gave the artist a cheque for sixty guineasâ€"the largest sum Val had ever received for a pair of pictures in his life. He meant to do magnificent things with the moueyâ€"refumish their apartments, if indeed they did not leave Newburn street altogether and seek some pleasanter looality, buy himself a new ulster, Pierce 8. black silk dress that would " stand alone.” and lots of beautiful “ mounts ” and frames for her drawings. Rex Devenant was going away for a month ; and on Christmas Eve he called to say good- bye to them. Val was out and Pierce was bending over her drawing. giving the last touches to a perfect little sketch which she meant as a Christmas present for Rex. It was the parlor, with her father on one side of the fire, Mr. Davenant in the American rock- ing-chant on the other, and Pierce herself seated in front. her face shaded with her hand. and The Modern Painters on her knee. Rex took up the drawing and glanced at it, first admiringly, then critically. “ Pierce, you’re a genius i" he cried. “ This sketch is simply perfectâ€"the likenesses are unmistakable. You will make your fortune as a portrait-painter one day, and then you will win fame as an artist. What are you go- ing to do with this?" 7‘ Give it to you it you will accept it, Rex. I thought perhaps it would remind you of our happ_y eveniqu yvlleq ygu are‘away.". _ “ Do you think I shall require anything to remind me of them. Pierce?” asked Rex, turning up her face with one hand and push- ing back the thick short curls from her fore- head with the other. “ Do you think I shall forget you for a single moment while I am away ?" “You must not work too hard, petite,” he said, stroking her hair fondly. “You must take great care of yourself while I am away. You must not spoil your eyes by painting too much or reading at night. And, Pierce, I have brought you a Christmas presentâ€"some- thing I want you to wear always for my sake. Will8 you lime one '2”. “Yes, always, with pleasure, Rex. Oh. how lovely l”â€"as heplnced in her handa velvet lined case containing alarga gold locket set with diamonds. “0h, Rex.how beautiful!" “ Yes, I am sure you will, for a great many moments. It you think of me sometimes, I shall r a quite content," replied Pierce, with a glad, quick flush. _ Pierce looked at him, but did not answer, except by a. silencemore eloquent than words. and with an expression of shy happiness in her eyes; but it seemed to satisfy Rex com- plete}y. “ 'HBw often will you think ‘of me, Pierce ‘2” asked the young man, still holding up the little face. “ Look at me and answer. Pierce." “I’m glad you like it ; but it’s not half pretty enough for you. Nothing in the world is,” he declared, looking with admiration at the lovely radiant little face. “Pierce, Pierce when you leave the solitude and seclusion of Newburn Street and go into the world, you will do some awful damage ; something terri- ble is sure to happen !" And he laughed merrily. “Now good-bye. my child ; take care of yourself and the deer pater till I come back. Only 9. few short weeks and then we’ll begin our magnificent picture of ‘The Last of the Mohieane.’ Good- bye, little gipsy, and ‘a merrie Christmas.’ " “And I’ll go and do likewiseâ€"there ! I’ve only eleven minutes left to drive to Euston ; and my cabby must be frozen with waiting. Good-bye, petite." And Rex pressed his lips lightly to the upturned, smiling, blushing face. and rushed out of the room and down- stairs four sgepsgt Mime. ‘ . He arrived at Euston just in time to jump into his train without a ticket, and have his portmanteau flung after him at random ; and in three hours he was at home. After Rex was gone Pierce opened her desk, and from a. dozen pencil- sketohes of his face inevery possible positlon she selected one that she thought the best. and fitted it into/ her locket; then she put the chain round her neck and the locket in- side her dress. throwing nllthe other sketches into the fire; and she began a fresh one of the young gentleman as he looked in his rough ulster and traveling-cap. “Good- bye, Rex. and ‘ahappy Christmas,’ replied Piyerce. “I'll think of you lots ‘ times till we meet. ” In the middle of her work she paused, with a. gleeful little laugh at the thought of the change he would find in their rooms on his return. A new carpet, is soft fleecy rug, low comfortable chairs, a mirror, some vases and a. few flowers would make a wonderful alter- ation. She would have her new silk dress, too, and would then, for the first time, wear her beautiful locket openly. Pierce had a great idea of the fitness of things; and a gold locket set with diamonds over a shabby black Russel-cord dress smeared with paints, and in a room with dingy threadbare curtains and carpet and rickety furniture, would, she thought. he quit-e‘out of keeping. Already she and her father had spent hours in plotting and planninp, and had walked dozens of times to Tottenham Court and Hampstead roads to examine the furni- ture-shop windows by daylight and gaslight. Next Week they would make their final selec- tion, and then there would be the delight of going to choose the black silk dress which her father insisted she should have It was all so delightful, so different from how thing: used to be in the old dark dreary day before they knew Rex Davenont ! From this Pierce went off into a golden glorious dayâ€"dream of which Rex was yhe beginning and end, and from which she was aroused by the sound of several heavy footsteps en the stairs and a great commotion outside the door. In another moment it opened, and {our men entered the room, carrying the lifeless body of Valentine Lisle. He had dropped dead' 11: the street, just outside the door; pend tenderly and reverently they canied him In and laid him on his bed. Disease of the heart, the doctors said, was the immediate cause of his death. Perhaps they were right; more people die of that mal- ady than this world dream of; and poor vagrant Val’s heart was not only diseased, but hopelessly, ipcurably broken. _ After the first shock of her father’s sudden death and the days of dull apathetic despair that followed, Pierce roused herself and en- deavored te look her position fairly in the face. Young, friendless, inexperien :ed, poor, and imperfectly educated, how was she to earn her bread ? What was she to do? Where was she to turn for advice and encouragement? In the first hours of her grief and despair she had written a half frantic letter to Rex. en- treating him to come to her or write and tell her what to do. After a few days she wrote again more calmly and eollectedly; she ex- plained exactly how she was placed, and begged him to write her just a line, as she was so lonely and unhappy. But to neither of her letters did she receive any answer; and. with bitter tears and a dull aching at her heart, Pierce came to the conclusion that he had forgotter her al- ready. It was very cruel and unkind of him, she thought, to forsake her in her great sorrow; and she sometimes felt as it it were morethau she could bear. She was very young and very ignorant of the world; and yet she had to learn how much one may suffer and still live on, and be even brave, patient and cheerful under the most crushing griefs. _ After the funeral, Pierce thought once more what she had better do, and finally concluded to write to her uncle Jasper; he would per- haps help her in some shape or formâ€"send her to school, where she might fit herself to be a governess, or procure her some occupa- tion. It was a difficult matter to wrlte to Sir Jasper, and cost many sighs and tears. and rumed numerous sheets of note paper; but it was accomplished atlast; and then she waited with restless impatience for the reply. . . It came at length. aftera weary fortnight- a cold stiff formal invitation to Lisle Hall, without a single word of sympathy or affec- tion, without even an apology for the delay in writing. One other letter Pierce wrote to ,Rex, and then she came to - the conclusion that he was either dead or utterly heartless and worthless. In any case’it was as well to set about forgetting him, although the very idea of doing so almost caused her heart to stop beating and filled her eyes with tears. It was very hard to go away from Newhurn street. where every step on the stairs she thought might be his, where every knock at the door caused her to fly to the window ; but it was quite impossible to stay. for Pierce had scarcely any money. The expenses of her father's funeral. the payment of several out- standing debts, and the purchase of her own mourning left her only about ,ten pounds of the sum paid to her father for his pictures ; and, when that was spent, what was she to do .7 She had not the least idea how she could turn her talent for painting to account and make money by her drawings. If Rex had only been near to advise her. all would have been right ; but as it was she decided that she had better go to Lisle Hall and ac- cept the cold hospitality of her uncle. .- Late one evening, towards the end of Janu- ary, she arrived, cold, weary and wretched, at Lisle Hall. after a. long journey in a. third- elass carriage. with no rug or warm cloak. She drove from the station alone in a fly ; and the servant who opened the door looked at her superoilionsly as he ~ showed her into the library, and said he would see that his mistress was informed of her arrival. For fully twenty minutes Persephone sat alone in the great room waiting for some- thing, she scarcely knew what, too weary eyen to glance at the splendor and magni- ficence of the apartment. At length the door opened, and a young lady enteredâ€"a. tell, slender, stately girl with golden hair, pink cheeks. and white shoulders. She wore a rich dress of soft black silk, which hung in heavy folds about her graceful form and trailed along way behind her. A drapery of white lace was artistically ursnged so as to relieve the sombre hue of the dress and show the beautiful texture of the old “ point” to best advantage. . The voice was low and sweet, the smile winning and pleasant ; but the poor tired, shivering orphan felt a terrible emptiness in both. She was so lonely and and ; and for the first time in her life she felt 9. wild cravingfor affection-some one to love. some one to love hora-if it were only a dog. But her stifl bow and admission of fatigue expressed nothing of her real feel- ings. Shebwae even less demonstrative in her greeting than _her cousin_Ethel had been. After a brief exchange of adverse sentiments roger-ding the weather, and just at the begin. ing of one those awkward pauses which are so uncomfortable, agentleman in evening- dress entered the roomâ€"the grandest-looking personage Pierce had ever beheld. After a steady prolonged stare. be greeted her even more formally than his daughter had done, and elevated his gray eyebrows in anything but pleased surprise at her costume. “ Not dressedâ€"and dinner will be an. nounced in ten minutes! How is it Miss Lisle was not shown to her room at once, Ethel 'I" he said coldly. “ I don’t know, papa. I told Jacksonâ€"” " Ring to: your maid to attend to her,” in; terrupted Sir Jasper sharply. “ I have not the pleasure of knowing your name, Miss Lisle l“ . “ Persephone, uncle.“ “ Perâ€" Perâ€" What 7” said Sir Jasper. putting up his glass and surveying his niece with something like horror. “ I failed to catch what you said. ’ _ 4 She extezfded her hand graciously to Pierce. “ How do you do, cousin? You must be very weary._" Viii‘grsephone." repeafied the girl. meeting his look with olpuding brpgvs. “ Why, that’s I fearful nameâ€"a profane heathen appellation-not fit for any Chris- tian I” "7'71 am not a. Christian then. I suppose; for I have been called so for nearly seventeen years." *‘V‘raflz’nost‘ 53 bad ! Persephone ! I never heard of such athing ! It’s positively awful; is It not, Ethel 7” :‘Vlriifuial” 'was the equally cold and haughty reply. _ . . â€"\ . . v “ Then we will excuse you this evening," said Sir Jasper, holding the door open {or her to pass out; while Ethel directed her maid to see that Miss Lisle had everything she wanted. .r 7‘7 What was your mother’s name 7" asked 831' {ggper ggldly. .. .-. u , “ I doh't know. papa. It seems to me a veryypreflxnamefl ' 7‘7 My fa'ther called me Pierce"â€"- with a grateful glance at her cousinâ€"" and my mother sometimes Percie. " “ Cousin Pierce looks so very weary, papa, that I think we had better excuse her to- night. I am sure she would rather go to her room and have 291119 ten. Would you not, cousin 1’” _ “ “ A very plain, rude, awkward girl. Ethel. I wonder what we are to do with her," re- marked Sn‘ Jasper, as he led his daughter to the dining-Igom. V " She i; shy, papa, and weary, but certain- ly not plain. She has most wonderful eyei‘ and in a different dress she would look bem- titul." “ We do not want a second beauty at Little “ Hemâ€"that’s something better ! Now go and prepare for dinner, and pray do not keep us waiting any longer than you can help," said Sir Jasper stiffly. “' Very much rather.” answered Pierce. with another bn‘ght grateful glance at the fair vision before her ; “ my heggi acheq 30.7 Hall just yet, Eth 1.”. replied Sir Jasper, quietly. " The gir says she can draw and point well, and read French and German. I don': see why we should not keep Maud and Beatrice at home and [ether teach them ; they can have 9. master for music and other things." ‘ “ Perhaps it would be as well, papa," said Ethel gravely.“ I fear Pierce would prove a formidable rival if we introdheed her into society. For the present, at all events, it will be desirable to keep her in the background. Lornton likee dark pheaqtiep. " “ But he likes lair one: betterfiems ,” re- turned Sir J super, looking up proudly at his daughter, “ and one fair one especially. if I’m not very much mistaken ! I’ll see Pierce in the morning and have a talk with her.” 7“ Very well ; you know‘best, papa." And without a. single pang, Ethel Lisle oonsigned her cousin to the drudgery of the. school room instead of the pleasures of the drawing- room. When the arrangement was made known to Pierce, she expressed herself as not only agreeable to conform to it, but positivelyj pleased to do so. She was quite willing to inetmct her little cousins in the arts of draw- ing, painting, grinding colors, etc.. also to read French and German with them, see that they learned their lessons. practised their music. took daily constitutional walks in the park. and always had clean mnslinfrocks and pink sashes to go down to dessertsinflall {or a home at Lisle Hall, a new dress whenever she wanted one, and ten pounds a your pocket- money. Pierce called it in salary ; but Sir Jasper elevated his eyebi-ows snd grew pale with horror at the idea of a Lisle being a ; hired domestic. After the first few months "of coldness and reserve, the life was not unpleasant. Hand and Beatrice were merry, good-natured. though not very clever children. and 10nd of their cousin. They had their apartmentsâ€" sehool-room. bed-rooms and a little private sitting-room for Pierce â€"quite at the hack of the house. with a separate entrance to the gsrden, through which they passed into the park, where they took their daily walks, and so knew almost as little of the doings at the Hall as if they lived ten miles from it. On Sunday morning Sir Jasper would see the little girls in the library for a few min- utes and hear them repeat their oollect.Ethel would look into the school-room occasionally} on her way down to dinnerâ€"tor, after the first few weeks, Pierce expressed a wish to remain entirely with thevehildren. and Sir Jasper graciously acquiesced â€"and that was all the intercourse they had with the family. But they were merry enough the greater part of the time. , The school-room piano discouracd most extraordinary sounds under the im- promptu touch of Pierce, the walls were dec- orated with trophies of her skill in caricaturihg. and Maud had developed a remarkable talent ior mimicry which usually. keptthem in roars of laughter during the evening; and, when Captain Archer Lisle was at home, nothing could keep him 0116 of the school-room too during the boys' holidays there was a perpetual entertainment. 80 months passed away; and, it Pierce ever thought of Box Daveuant, the memory did not seem to bring her sorrow, for she was always gay and happy. Itnwas not till a year and a half after her arrival at Lisle Hall that Pierce got any in- sight into the true state of heruucle’s affairs; and then it was quite by aocident. She heard Sir Jasper tell Ethel that it she did not marry Lord Lornton soon they would be ut- terly ruined. The Hall was morgaged, every tree that could be sold without open confes- sion of poverty was gone. and every acre of the park was encumbered with heavy and pressing debts. . It was s. severe shock to Pierce ; and she could not understand how people could go on living in such state. keeping a great retinue of uselesss servants, having grand dinner parties, and being apparently so happy and prosperous when they were poor and in debt. It did not seem right-and surely it could not be comfortable. .7 She longed to go to her uncle and tell him thatshe could not accept his money or his hospitality, since he was‘ not in a position to bestow either upon hen} However, a little reflection convinced her that the ten pounds a year was more than saved, for the children would either have had an expen'sive governess or been at school ; and, besides, she ‘dreaded letting Sir Jasper know that she was ‘ecqusinted with his circumstances. Who this Lord Lorntcn who was to he married for hls money was she did not know or careâ€"some great gentlemen, no doubt, who would find in Ethel’s beauty a very fair equivalent for his wealth. A few weeks later shegamed that his lord- ship was staying at the all, and that Ethel and he were to be married in October. That was in July; and the whole month of August passed without her catching even a glimpse of the gentlemeq who had won beautiful Ethel Liale's hand, it not her heart. Maud and Beatrice talked a good deal about him, and declared he was handsome, kind. and clever. and the most delightful sort of big brother my one could have; butleven they new little of himâ€"only for ten minutes at dessert now and again; and hisghiel attraction in their eyes was undoubtedly his oa'pmity for mak- ing presents. 1n the general rejoicing and active prepar- ation. for the wedding ‘Pieroe seemed to be quite forgotten. No one thought of her at all, or offered to introduce her to the man who was soon to be her cousin by courtesy ; and, strangely enough, Pierce exhibited no ourioei. ty whatever; but she thought of Rex Dave- nent 9. little ottener; and her sketches and drawings were of‘ the old room in Newburn street and of the pupil with the frank honest face and sunny eyes. She always put them into a. drawer and looked it when she heard the children coming. , One day an the beginning of September, a glorious, genieldey, when everythingjin na- ture seemed happy. restful, and entirely un- conscious of the approach of chilly winter- time. Pierce and the children went out as usual into lhe park. the little girls chasing each other through the shady walks and making nosegays of such flowers as they could discover. Pierce walked slowly up and down a broad smooth path, bordered on each side with treesh the branches of which let in straggling rays of sunshine. She was read- ing an odd number‘oi 5 magazine, and the story reminded her strangely of her own life and of Rex. First of all. Rex was found, and he loved her still. There was no mistaking the ex» pression of his face, the warm pressure of his lips, and the clasp of his hand. It seemed too glorious and delightful to realise. More- over Rex was not Rex any longer, but Lord Lornton. But he was engaged to contain Ethel ; and her uncle’s words flashed some”: Piano’s " No, no, cousin. please do not ; I am going !” cried Pierce. “ Good-bye. Rex ; I did not know. I am so sorry I” And, drop- ping her magazine, she ran up the broad path, crossed an angle of the park, and never paused till she reached her room ; then, look. ing the door, she threw herself down by the open window and endeavored to think of all that had happened. Suddenly she looked up dreamily, and saw him within a few yards of her. coming to-' ward her, with Ethel leaning proudly on his arm. He was looking down at her, with a patient sort of interest in his hoe; but in a moment he looked up, started violently, and, with an exclamation of joy, sprang 10r- ward. . ” Refâ€"and the little face, radiant with happiness, was raised for a momem~“ let’ me go, please." A dark shadow passed ovét‘ it as she met the haughty indignant que‘s‘o tioning glance 01 Ethel. “ I knew Mr. Daven- ant a. long time ago, Ethel." she said calmly; “ he was poor papa’s pupil, and we were very dear friends." “ This is not Mr. Davenant, Pierce. but Lord Lornton,” replied Ethel frigidly. “ I thinkI had better walk on, my lord and leave you to renew your very pleasant inti. macy with Miss Lisle. " “ Pierce my darling 3, thank Heaven I huve found you 1"â€" and he held her close' 111 his arms " Petite, why did you leave me ‘2 Oh, my darling. my darlpg l” Kim]: with fearful diltinctneanâ€"“ Ethel if you do not marry Lord Lornton soon, we sh'all be utterly ruined. ” “ I don’t care," cried Pierpe, fiefoely, start- ing to her fee‘; “he is my Bexl he loves me. and I will not give him upâ€"he in mine!" And she paused before the mute: and pushed the thick curls from her temples. “ I have more beauty than Ethel. I could win hm: from her; and I will 1" Then the buried her face in the bédolothel and sqbbedjrildly; and {herburden of her cry was " Rex, Beat 1" ' At last she fell ssloey; md it wag quite late in {he evening when did was roused 3 some one tapping at her door. It was Ethe . look- mg more beautiful then she had ever seen her look before, more sweet and tender and nor- rowful. ‘ or shall I'oomé in?” " I want to speak £0 you cousin Pierce," she _sa§§i,_gently. _“j_Vi11 you me :6 my room, Pierce motioned to her to enter and then turned away her swollen, test-stained lube. There was something in Ethel’s eyes that made her feel sshnmedml her late resolutions. “ Rex has told me all, Pierce," she began â€"“ how he loved you long before he had ever, seen me. snd belore he was Lord Loruton ;l how he lettyon at Ohrletmss-time and was kept ewsy ,by the illness 0! his greet-uncle, and, after thst. by his death: how, when he returned to London, he heard of the death of your father, sad that you bet! gone away no- ‘body knew where ; how he sought {you rfor ‘months, and at last concluded that you were ldesd, or had left the country. Honestly end loyslly he informed me that he loves you still, begged my pardon for the great wrong he has done me, and asked me it 1 was will- ing to marry s mes knowing that his whole heart belonged to another women. ‘1! you are willing. I am prepared to stsnd by my en- gagement, Ethel,’ he seid ; end I replied that I would leave it all to Pierce.” 7 “Risk it all i0 me?” cried Pinon. “How 1 I do not understand." . "I said that it you It'lll cued for him, ifâ€" if you had not tomotten him, I would give him his liberty, I would Iblolve him from his promises, and hoped you and he might be happy ; but, if you had ceased to cm for him and reluud to be his wife, I would fulfil my Engagement." '“Bn‘i "he Sold you that he cued for me." said Pierceâ€"“that he had not forgotten 1 How could you beecmehilWfleJnowing that. Ethel ?" “What does it matter 1’" rejoined Ethel a little weanly. "I am not going to mury Lord Lornton for his love, but for his money." . , l .Au .. “ What you think best; but listen to my side of the story. I do not love Lord Lorn- ton; I never did not could; end I have loved somebody elseâ€"loved him all my liloâ€"ever since I can remember. But he in poor, and I. Pierce, run a beggar; and, it this marriage falls through, we shell have to leave Lisle Hall and go and live in some poor cottage and work {or our daily bread; and I cannot work. Not only that; papa. will be disgraced as well as ruined; he will never be able to hold up his head amongst honorable men again : Ar- cher will have to leave the army. and Edgar and Nere must leave Eton. 0h, Pierce.think of itâ€"onr grand old home aold, our honorable and honored nuns trailed through the mire, my poor father an object of mom and con- tempt! you are a Lisle. oonein; help me to save our name from disgrace Y" iiiéréé 1:56de up at Bar cousin, a. curious exprfission _on her tape: . â€".. ... . -‘ “ You ask a great deel, Ethel,” she said slowly. " You esk me to do whet uncle Jae. per never did for my tether. Lisle Hell can scarcely be celled my home; still. I will give up Rex for your sake. I will do all in my power to secure you the wealth you so much covet. Yes. I will never come between you and Lord‘ Lornton. No, don't thank me; don‘t gush about it; don’t even speak to me of it. 1t is a thing to do and be silent ebotil forever alter,” ., -__Vd. Pierce. “ Will you write to Reginald 5nd tell him :0, Pierce ?" naked Ethel. ”find in Ipito of herself n the strange, stern expulsion: of her cousin’s lace and the far away look in her Eyes. When Pierce was well enough to be moved. Ethel accompanied her to the seaside; and there she made the acquaintance of 9. Mrs. Fortesque and her son Sidney, who greeted Ethel with a. kiss. and seemed inclined to be- stow a similar favor on Pierce in the exuber- ance 0! his spirits. Then for the first time Pierce learned that Rex had noted as if he were indeed Sir Jusper’s son. He had ed- vuncedvmoney to enable him to meet his most pressing liabilities. a‘m! 1156 Help“ him with “ Yesâ€"~no. I cannot do that. Ethelâ€"I can- not write to Box; but I will give him up. I will never come between you end him. Now leave me. Good night. eon-in. I hope you will be happy with Lord Lornton. I trust you may never repent this night’l work. Tell him I hope he may be happy too â€"ondâ€"end some day,vEthel, will you give him my porn folio of drawingl when I am‘ gone 1’” And, without waiting for an answer, Pierce pushed her eousinrgemly out of the room and (as: ienod the door. ' Lord Lornton, making I eigar on the ter- race after dinner. and wondering much what would be the result of hie encounter with Pierce. and what eonolneion Ethel would ultimately come to, eaughl a glimpse of a alight blnek- robed figure flitting lhrough the trees. and, impelled by a sudden and irresist- ible impulse, he followod leisurely, thinking every moment that the form was strangely like Peuephone‘a, and longing with a “range jealous dread to know whither aim we: going. Then she began to think of what she had said onddone, of how she had wilfully thrust the whole happiness of her life asideâ€"hows perhaps she had wrecked the happiness of Rex too. She put on her 1m end jacket. and quietly left the house. with only one fixed idea in her mindâ€"to set may lrom Lisle Hall' and Rex forever. Whither she would no, what she would do, never cost her a thought'â€"she was only conscious of s greet desire to esesps. Mechanically she walked across the perk in the direction of the mete. a large sheet of deep still water thst lay in a valley about a mile iron: the house. in the quietest and the most remote part of the grounds. ' Then he saw the: stronger measures would be required ; end. taking her in his erme. he carried her to e cottage I link fenher on, where the under-gemekeeper lived.. and- ma P" nneerenonioualy on the heerth. de'fi'peteb M. the man for the name: doctor. the ohil~" 3th £6 me Hall (or help, end assisting the ' geinekeep er’e wife to use every simple remedy within their reach. M 1m Pierce opened he: eyes in wonder, and a faint smile passed over’ her face as she saw Rex bepding over her. A It was s long time beiore Pierce recovered; and. in the fever that followed her mad plunge into the more, her reviogs disclosed to Rex, who was ever beside her. the true state of the family aflairs and Ethel‘s unselfish but misguided intention of sacrificing herself to save her father and the honor of their name. I It was a clear moonlit night, Itill'and warm : and, an he emerged from the shade of trees into an openfepaee near the mere, he saw that the woman he (allowed was making directly for the water and walking very last. In another moment without even walt- ing to discover it aha was pursued; she sprang in. There was a dull splash. than a few circling ripples on the placid auriaee oi the mare, and Pierce Lisle was out of eight, without a cry or groan, or even a motion of degpair. ‘ “ Thank Heaven. she is 213% dead!” he cried, fervently. “ She is mine indeed now, and no_power op earth‘ean par} m I" - For a moment Rex stood spell-bound ; than, with sun-exclamation of honor, he cleaned the intervening space at a law bounds, and In: soon striking out for the spot where he thought it likely Pierce might rise to the sur. face. He had not miscaloulstcd the finance; and. u but white face nppeued. be seized her firmly. and in I iew minutes had he: solely on shore. but in I sine of unconsciousness resembling‘death. For A moment he knelt beside her, chafing her hands vigorously. and trying by his kisses to restore some taint tinge of color to her lips. jgdigious adjige. which. for a. great wonder, 'Bir Jaspeg fpllofivgd. A month later there was a very quiet wed- ding at Bayfield church. the only persons present being Ethel Lisle and Mrs. Fortesque and her son, beside the bride and bridegroom. Sidney gave Pierce away; and. when the ceremony was over, they all drove to Mrs. Fortesque'a lodgings and had a quiet break- fast. Afterwards Lord and Lady Lornton started for the Continent ; and Ethel and Sidney wondered how long it would be beiore they shank! be the principal actors in a similar cerginony. _ 2 . . . n They had not to wait long, however, for, ewingtothe the 300:! offices of Rex. Sidney noon received an appointment in New Zea- land, and Ethel accompanied him thither. She has been heard to say that she has never regretted the terrible circumstances that 1”veil her from being Lady Lornton. and always maintains that Pieroe’s plunge into the mere was the luckiest accident in the world. Pierce and Rex live almost entirely abroad. The Manor, Lord‘ Lornton’s home, is too near Lisle Hall to be quite pleasant just yet; and, besides, he Wishes his wife to study the old masters in Italy and cultivate her marvel- ous talent for painting. Fletterers say there is no room for improvement either in paint- ing or anything else that the beautiful. gifted fortunate Persephone undertakes. Lady Lorn- ton. elweys conscious of one great weakness and wickedness of her life, is always humble and gentle, pitiful to the faults and failings ,of every one ; and in her the week, the ‘wsvering. the suffering and the wretched have ever a firm and faithful friend. Some time since the Free Press contained a humorous poem written by the poetical ma- chine tlnt grinds out poetry for the New York‘ Sunday World. It depicted a men's struggle with a. gas meter. First he used an ordinary‘ amount of gas and at the end of the month‘ the hill came in for $8.60. The poem has passed into oblivion but it is quite easy to make another just like it. For instance : He closed his mansion tightly up And hied him of! from hence But at the month's end the bill come in For $8.50. The gas company seemed to be going on the principle that the amount of gas consumed had no relation to the bill. so the consumer ,eeted accordingly, because next month : Day and hi ht the burners blazed And he di loudly laugh, - Wh§r_1_the gee-men's bill came in the same, ', .8.50.- , This case, or rather one very similar to it. occurred in New York recently. The resi. dents of the aristocratic region of Murray Hill found that the amount of gas used bore no relation to the' bills. They reduced the consumption twenty-five per cent. But the more they reduced the bigger became the bills, and there seems no reason to doubt that it they had stopped the use of the use altogether the bills would have ruined even people of such wealth. Investigation showed thet the gas meter differs .irom mankindâ€" the more water it absorbs the more unreliable it became. There was water in the meters. to the amazement of the gas company. It was found that the meter had falsified the re- turns, end a new count was ordered. New meters were put in, and as they are not yet accustomed to their work yet they are reasonably truthful so (at. â€"Detroit Free Frau. An execution at Newgete. “Here is a} narrow stony court inclosed in high stone‘ walls, and a barrier across it fencing the door through which the criminals are brought, and thereby a bright structure of wood not unlike a loose boxâ€"not unlike a cebman’s shelterâ€" hut the sides of it only waist high; This shedj is the place 0! execution; the murderer is? taken within it and hanged from 3 been under ‘ the shed roof ; he and the executioners and the witnesses of his death standing all upon a level, and all in the little space between the pitiless walls. While I waited in an outer room, dreadful it was to see a little knot of workmen scnflie by, beforehand, with spades and pickexes, and one with a bag on his back with lime in it; these to prepare the grave. More terrible that, to me, than all that fol- lowed. Hurriedly, in a shernbling, furtive, silent way, the two that were to die were brought into the court; not very terrified, it seemedâ€"glad, perhaps. that there was so soon to be an endâ€"one of them of sinister look, the other and the greater villain boyish and marked with the criminality of a. born fool. When all was prepared, ‘Gnod-bye.‘ they said ; ‘Good-bye' between them and them execu- tioner, and then in an instant th‘ey disap- peared. for beneath the shed is a pit. No more." ' +A;long with the news that the English yachtsmen are taking an unusual interest in the cup won at Cowes in 1851 by theAmerica. ponies the information that this yacht has been thoroughly overhauled. She was floated the other day from Dufly’s marine railway at Boston. In speaking of her improvements, her commander. Capt. James Reid, a Boston branch pilot and a deep water navigator of celebrity, said: “ The America has been re- built trom {our strakes below the water line, with new top timbers and knees of hackma- tack.and ceilings and beams of yellow pine. The fastenings are of copper, galaanized iron, and locust tree nails. Below deck there are four large statesrooms and four berths. All has been finished in ash, with polished mahogany trimming. She has now the same spars as when she sailed against the Magdeleine in 1876. twenty miles from Sandy Hook and back for the Queen's Cup. In order to reins dy a trick the America has of running herself out of the water and settling aft, all the tim making a wake like a Virginia fence. she has been provided with an overhang of six and a half feet." Capt. Reid adds' that he intends to bring her out in racing trim early the com- ln'g season. â€"San Francisco has not yet been cured of its love of titled aristocrats. and therefore continues to be a victim of pretenders. The latest of these was a clever rogue who called himself Count Von Schiller. He made no- qnaintanoes in snobbish society. and then pretended to fall dangerously ill. He dictated a letter to his father. directing him how to make a remittance of 96,000, and induced the young man who acted as his amanuensis to lend him $1,000 until the money came. Then he Ieigned a ladies! that he was about to die, and made a will in which his San Francisco friends were liberally remembered. On the strength of these bequests he borrowed numer- ous small amounts. He has at last been ex- posed and arrested. .â€"â€"'1‘he late Emperor Nicholas happened one day to be engaged in inspecting a State penitentiary in one of the provmoial seats 0! government, and took it into his head to question some of the convicts respecting the nature of the oflenoes for which they were sn‘fiering'punishment. “ What are you here for 7” he asked of one. “ I am innocent, Imperial Majesty," replied the prisoner. fall- ing on his knees; “ a victim of false wit- ness! A church was robbedâ€"a beadle knocked on the headâ€"the peasants caugh hold of me, and I knew nothing about it.’ Similar replies were given by other prisoners. The Emperor, obviously bored by these suc- cessive protestations of guiltlessness, cast a glance along the line of prisoners until his eye fell upon a raggegl,‘wretehed-lo‘okiug gypsy, whom he beckoned forward with the words. " Of course you, too, are here on a false charge I” " Not a hit of it your Ma- jesty." replied the Teigan, “ It is all fair and square as tar as I am concerned. I stole a pony from a tradesmen." “ Stole a pony, did you ?” said the Czar, with a laugh, and then. addressing the governor of the prison 'with well-assumed sternness, “ Turn this good-lor-nothing rascal instantly out of doors. I cannot allow him to remain a minute longer in such honorable and virtuous company, lest he pervert all these good, inno- oent people I" HANGING A MAN AT NEWGATE. THE TRUTHF'UL GAS METER. PAUL Dmmm. EIN THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH. A “Missing Man” and e. Corpse that Rode . up to the Camp Fire at Midnight. A New South Wales letter to the London Telegraph says: I was riding through the back‘ scrub the other day horribly hot, when I saw something shining on a tree which natur- ally excited my curiosity. I rode up to it through the long grass, searing away at the same time a flock of 'crows and hawks, while {our inguanaa seflttled up the adjoining trees. The shining object proved to he a tin “ hilly," and underneath. at the foot of a great pine, with his head resting on his “ swag,” lay an unfortunate traveler quite dead. He had been dead for two .days, I should think. and was evidently one of the army of workers -who travel the length and breadth of this continent on foot,rseeking employment, and for weeks and months seeking in vain. This poor fellow must have traveled in our pathless shrub for days. oomincz back in the ever fatal circle so well known to dwellers in a wilderness, to the great pine where he lay down at last, weary and hungry, to await the ’end which he must have known to be near. Traced on the “ bil- 1y," with _ the point of a knife, I think. were the initials' “H. A. E. P.,” and the words “ Lord Jesus, receive my soul.” I found no papers about him, no 0111‘s. He was quite young. too, about 24, perhdps. We had a grave dug under the great treeâ€"a trooper, who came IromBoggobu, the nearest town- ship, read the burial services ; he was rolled in his blankets and a few sheets of bark, and laid in the grave, there to rest till the univer- sal call. Alas '. how many such burials have I assisted at, and how many nameless wanderers â€"- each, perhaps, the pride of a fond mother and the hope of a circle of friends â€"- have lain down to die in our Australian bush. It always makes me miserable to read the long lists of “ missing friends" in the colon- ial papers. ' ' " I was terribly frightened one night in Queensland by a dead man rid- ing up to my camp fire at midnight. I was quite alone. I heard my horse neighing and another one answering in the Mslgas bushes. so I got up and put wood on, makings bright blaze, and presently, into the circle of the light came a horseman, bending over his pommel, with his large straw hat slouched over his eyes. I took my revolver off my saddle and sung out : “ Good night, mate 1 You travel late. Will you have a drink of tea f" Not a word of answer. Just then my two dogs, who had been sniffing about, set up such a terrible cry it made me jump again. After a bit I began} to open my eyes to the state of affairs, and mustered courage enough to walk up to the horse and take hold of the reins. While doing so I touched the rider’s bands. which were cold as ice. I tried to get him 03 the saddle, but it was of no use. His legs were out of the irons and wound tightly around the mare. I had to cut the reins from the grip of his fingers. I packed him on the horse when sunrise same and led him into Tambo, where I found he was well known as a digger. He had set out thenee that morningâ€"after drinking nearly a bottle of brandyâ€"to go to a place distant about forty miles, and I was only twelve miles from the township when he paid his ill-timed visit. There was no doctor within 200 miles at that time. However, they held a kind of inquest, at which the-P. M. talked learnedly of muscu- lar contraction and sunstroke, and was puz- zled to decide whether the brandy had any- thing to do with it, as he could swear, from his own experience, that the liquor was first- class. He praised me more than I deserved for Ihad had a mind to run away at first. When I am camped out even now alone strange thoughts of that nocturnal horseman A Story That Might Have Been Told in the Arabian Nights. A; correspondent forwards the following i1 lustrstieh of superstition amongst the Chinese with reference to a very ancient and wide- spread belief that the fox has the power of as~ euming the human form to lead mortals to their destruction. The same powers are also ascribed to the badger by the Japanese. In this case the story 15 given as a true one, and the facts are stated to be well known to every one. living in the Great street outside the Ohien Men (Front Gate) at Peking, where the affair is supposed to have occurred : come-into m3: head. -â€"â€"Something in Boston displeased Brother Sankey. He says: “ The Boatonians have a. great deal better opinion of themselves than the Lord has of them." .0"..- _- __rrn, 7., ,, “A certain Ningpo man kept a druggist's shop at Pekin. Having made a good deal of money by it he determined to commence a wholesale business as well as the retail one. He therefore bought a warehouse for storing drugs and put it in charge of a nephew. His venture proved eminently successful and he grew richer daily, principally for the extra- ordinary reason that the drugs stored in the warehouse were less liable to get damp or moldy than anybody else’s. As the nephew was at work in the warehouseghe used to con- stantly notice the prettiest girl a had ever'seen passing by the door. Though he sorely longed to, try to make acquaintence with her, he was restrained by her modest and retiring demeanor. Time went by, and one day an old gentleman with a long beard and leaning on a staff called at the uncle’s shop. In the course of conversation it appeared that he came from the borders of Snensi and Kansu, and had originally fled to Pekin to escape from the Mohammedan disturbances in teh- west. Finally he said that he had often re- marked the nephew at work in the warehouse and had been struck by his steadiness and diligencehand he would like to marry his only daughter to him. He had sufficient money to make liberal arrangements with regard to the trousseau and wedding presents. and would not quarrel about terms. The young man, being so far from his home at Ningpo, was not betrothed to any one. His uncle, therefore. gladly accepted his proposal. As both parties were strangers in Pekin, every- thing was settled and the marriage ceremony performed without any unnecessary fuss or formality. When the time came for the bride to unveil, the bridegroom who had never yet seen her, was most anxious to know what she was like. . At the first glance. what was his joy to discover that she was the girl he used to see passing his warehouse. The marriage was a happy one. He was the loudest of husbands and she the most loving and duti- ful of wives. Before long the young man’s father in Ningpo, wishing to see his new daughterrin-law, wrote and told nis son to bring her home on a visit. The son accord- ing madejpreparations to start ed as soon as possible. For the last day or two before his departure the uncle, who had not been home for many years, was consequently coming to his house, as he had a thousand. things to talk aboutâ€"reminiscenses to recall, messages to be delivered and the like. When the mo. ment for them to commence the journey actually arrived the uncle went across for the last time to say good by, but to his astonish- ment neither nepnew nor niece was to be found. After a frutless search he went to the house of the girl’s father to see if heeould learn anything there. But’there was no house standing, merely two or three wretched little rooms in ruins without doors or windows. He made inquiries among the neighbors but none of them knew anything of the old man or the house. Everything was then plain. The old man and his daughter were foxes and had made away with the young husband; But stranger than anything else was the fact that from that day forth the drugs stored in the warehouse became just as subject to mold as those kept anywhere else."â€"-London Tole- gradh. - ’ â€"-It has just been discovered that one of the many subierranean passages with which Rome 13 burrowed, leading, from a lonely spot beyond the Porte Angelica, and passing be- neath the walls. has for some time been util- ized by smugglers as a route for introducing into an old stable in the Borgo, bales of sugar and various eomestibles. From the quantity et wares found stored there it is evidem that a flourishing contraband trade has been driven with impunity for some time. A QUEER CHINESE TALE.