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“ Nothing can be a tronble that is done for you, Ilma,” replied Sir Philip, and in a low tong that only she heard." The words has escaped him almost un- nwerol. md he was conscious of something in his voice which had not yet been present in i‘ when he apoke to her. He glanced quickly “Still, why Ihonld she lack ear-rings 2 See â€"11 you will Accept it”-â€"detaching the dainty little cluster of flowersâ€"atephanotia, moss role~bud and holiotropeâ€"he wore in his but- ton hole ; but Ilma put out a deprecating “011 Iwish you had not heard 1” said Ilma, as Sir Philip bent down to fasten the flowers in their place. "What will you do without a button hole ?” “I think I could live somehow,” he an- "and gravely, “even if my loss were notâ€"as in tfig caseâ€"an immeasurpable gaiy.” “What very pretty speeohes you do make.” laid Ilma sedately, her eyes dancing with fun â€"“as sweet as the flowers themselves 1 Thanks ; you have fastened them beautifully, and taken a lot of trouble to do it, I am late." ,"What is freely given is no 'robbery, Ilma. Study, Zuleikaukeep steady, pretty one, while I futon if. I" “Never mind,” shi laid ; “Zuleiks can do without :floworâ€"Ihe is one herself.” "Bay rather.” remarked Sir Philip. “that she union one already. What in it ? Are Bose and Janie taunting you because their hone: hue flowers in their ears and Zuleikn ha- not ?" “You ; but Fanny and Delilah need all the ndornment they can get I" cried Ilma merrily. “Zuleika shines by herself I” “Oh: lacâ€"please don’t 1 It is sure to fall wilful; qmqot bgar to_rob yog." To this Sir Philip gave no answer. He mounted in silence, and backed his horse to llma'u side. She had not heard what had just passed, and was exchanging badinage with Rose and J anie. For a second Sir Philip’s haughty brow con- tracted, and the blue veins on the temple: mood outâ€"aura indications of a quick and punionnte temper; but he checked the an- swer that rose to his lips and replied coolly, though with some ironyâ€" “ I think I know how to match horse and rider, Sabine; there is no danger whatever." :‘ I hope not," said Roland, shortly, turning Roland could not say more just then. for Sir Philip came up and lifted Rose into her saddle, and Roland was obliged to turn away to perform a like metrics for Janie. But, while he was giving his sister the bridle, he kept his eyes fixed-anxiously upon Zuleika, who was carveting about evidently eager to be 03. Hardly acknowledged to himsel! was an nnworthy desire if: the young man’s mind to find a flaw in Sir Philip Darrell’s gift, to prove him wanting in sufficient care for Ilmas safety, while his own solicitude. if even over- anxious, would shine by contrast. “ Sir Philip.” he said a little abruptly to the Baronet, who. having attended to Rose, In now turning away to his own horse, “ Zu- leika is terribly wild. I hardly think she is safe for 11mm to ride.” " That horse is fesriully wild, Ilms,” ob- served Roland, while his sisters were admir- ing Ilma’s whip. “ Are you sure you can manage her ?" llins’ s laugh rang out llke a. silver bell. " I wish I was as sure of everything as I gm of that." she replied. “ Steady, dear”â€" n Zuleika began capering about. ” 0h, Ro- land, you will kill me 1 What has made you timid all in a moment. 2" “ I shouldn’t be timid for a person I cared nothing about.” said Roland, looking up at her ejrnenly. “ You can't care much for me in this short fine. you know, R01." responded Ilma, per foctly unconscious of any deep meaning in his words. “ But, whether you do or not, you need not pull a long face for me.” Sir Philip laughed at this piece of youthful exaggeration; and so. chatting, they rode in the annlig ht and under the spreading boughs o! larch and elm. till they came in sig ht of the Latches. They saw the horses before the door, and the Sabine girls and Roland on the terrace ; and 111119., girliike,-’put Zuleike intoe. swift center, pulling up the mere in such splendid style close by the steps that a cry of admiration greeted the feat. “[Im’t she a darling f” said Ilma, bending from the saddle. flushed and laughingmu they :11 gathered around her ; and at the same in- stant Sir Philip rode up. “ Well donellma,” Ea said ; and then rais- in; his hat and bowing low to Mrs. Sabine,he dismounted and went up tothe terrace to meet her. “ There is nothing to forgive, Sir Philip. It in very good of you to be no careful for me. If I had gone out the first time with Roland, and Zuleika had bolted, he would never have been able to catch her up. I call his horse Tom a monsterâ€"fit to draw a nine-pounder unaided l” " You. I knew, of course, that you were 3 wk horsewoman. or I should not have se- lected Zuleika; and forgive me if I wanted to mike assurance doubly sure by having mademoilelle’ll debut with you under my own eye. You see. though she has been exercised for I lady's riding. she has never yet been tilde}; by q lady._”‘ Sir Philip new in a moment that Ilme. was 3 practised horeewoman. She sat on her steed well, and none but a skiliul rider could have maltered aneika, who was completely under the control of the girl’s firm but gentle hand. Ilmn. was enteptured with the mare, and Sir Philip, after riding a little distance in almont perfect silence, said-â€" “ Was that,” asked the girl, laughing, “ 7.11.7. you .p‘referreq to bringrper with you ?" With thi-a gaTlan't fipeecf, Sir Philip vaulted into his saddle, and the two riders took the road to the Latches. “ I see ion are mistrehs. I would not for tho world have any but such a rider as you no mount Zuleika.” mu 5 v - uni n yulnvvv uluu want] 1 of a whip, which, I am sure. by-the-wayfil shall not have to use much I And the saddle and bridle are lovely. You hue quite beggnred me in words, but not in mfigudez” “ You forget that, if gratitude were due to no 1mm you, it would be more than oun- oellod by mine to you for the honor you do Ine__ in_ accepting my poor gifts.” He smiled, and, timing to the groom, took from him a dainty silver-mounted ridmg-whip, which he_p1a._o¢d_ in Ilmg’s hand. ‘ “ 0h, Sir Philip ”â€"the quick color rushing to her cheeksâ€"“ why will you be so kind? W139: a gaffe“ _little beauty, “ To the minute. I am only just down. You won’t mind not seeing auntie, will you? She has a headache, and is not out of her mom yet. Jennie ”â€"to one of the servants â€"-where is my riding-whip? Run and fetch it, plaque. R iein my room, I think 1’" “ Yes. thinks ;' 'it will go of! presently. She 3!: has them, she tells me, and they never t. ' Sir Philip lifted the slender figure, and with practised skill swung the girl into the 13qu as}! s-he. had been _a. fqahher’g ygight. “You do help one perfectly!” laid mm; “ 131mb, Sir Philip." Ilmar was quite ready when the horses drew up before the door; and she came out to meet Sir Philip on the threshold in a, close- fltting riding-dress arid plumed Spanish but am made her look, if possible, more Witching than ever. “I hope,” said sir Philip, as her led his companion out. “ that Miss Durnfoxd’a head- ache_is on_ly a_ slight 0991” No change had come over Sir Philip Dar- rell’s mind when he rode over from the Court to the Grange, with a mounted groom follow- ing. leading Zuleika, who was provided with new saddle and bridle. But Sir Philip had not said to himself, “ I will woo Ilma ; I will try to make her love me.” There was no such definite thought as yet, only the fierce defiance of the fate which forbade him to love, only the determination not to yield her up. hearing him steadily onwards to the ful- fligient he waeputting from himw “I hope I have not kept you waiting,” said air Philip, smiling. “ I am punctual, I think ?" WHEN THEME-1.0008 ARE OUT. “ Oh, delicious I” cried Ilma. “ Sir Philip â€"one minuteâ€"do look at them I Not one of their horses can take the ditch! Tom would have. a. fegttul {topper him! he tried it_.” “ Ami you too, oh, you wild sprite? No; take pity on me, and, while; the others are riding roundâ€"it is more than half a mileâ€" let us have 9. good gallop over that piece of rolling country" epoioting ahead. “ Except your own just now,” returned the girl, her heart throbbing fast to hear his praise. “‘ You must have taken it almost at a stand. 0h, Sir Philip, I wonder what Rol will say now of Zuleika? She is worthy of all you said of herâ€"my beautiful darling I I believe she would like to go back again.” " Yes,” she answered readily, without the least bravado, her cheeks flushing, and her eyes sparkling with excitement. “ Away then 1” Bike an arrow from a. bow Zuleika. was gone. Rose and Janie uttered a simultaneous cry of mingled admiration and fear. “ No, no,” answered Bose, ‘ “ Sir Philip set her off. He knows what he is about. pSee. he is after her, taking it more easily. Come, let's see the leap. " “Well done,” he said, his dark handsome faceglowing with delight at the girl's a plendid featâ€"” well done, 111113! I knew you would take the ditch 1n style; but, by my faith, I never saw such a. dashing leap I" " Now, Ilma," said Sir Philip, raining back his fiery Arab to the girl’s side. “ Let her go. The ditch is within a quarter of a mile. It is a good sixteen feet leap. You can do it 1’"â€" looking into her eyes. "Is she running away ?” exclaimed the lat- ter bgenthlenly. In another moment. Ilma. with unerring hand, lifted the Arab’s head to the leap. There was a flash, :1 wild halloo from Roland. and Zuleika landed lightly on the opposite side of the wide ditch, and stood panting and trembling a little. Ilma’s bright laugh rang am like a hell, as she bent over her brave steed, caressing her tenderly. In another second Sir Philip was by her side. Roland was too vexed to acknowledge this endeavour to cover his defeat; but his silence was hardly noticeable, as Rose and Janie rode up, and in another minute they were all on the fell. Then Hussein and Zuleiks. gave their riders full opportunity of disylaying their horseman- ship. if they had cared about showing 05. Rose and J snie gave their horses the rein ; and the sight of the galloping steeds made the Arabs wild with excitement. Roland tried in vain to keep by his cousin. Zuleiks’s swift- ness completely put l‘omâ€"swiit as he wasâ€" to shame; and the young squire was faia to allow his horse a breathing. She did not intend to annoy her cousin by appealing directly from him to Darrell ; still further from her mind was any idea olcoqnet- ry ; but. Darrell was too generous to feel any triumph in the position assigned to him. He answered, smilingâ€" “It. is a good leap; but you can do it. You see, Sabine,” he added to Roland, “you do not know Zuleikn. She is 9. splendid jumper. and I don’t think you need fest {or Inna." “You ought not to leap that ditch, Emaâ€"â€" youigre too confident.” ”You dear old woman,” rep lied Ilma. laughing, “you can shut your eyes at the squgmfimoment. Is the ditch too wide, Sir Pn‘gip r" “But she can leap it, can she not 2” said Ilma. eagerly to Sir Philip ; while Roland Hugged hotly. and exclaimedâ€" “You forgot,” returned Sir Philip quietly, “that there is a deep ditch only a. very short distance-ahead, of which Ilms has never heard; and, if Zuleika came upon it una- wares, she might go into it instead of over it.” “ Keep a. tight rein,” he said, gently. as the girl looked up at him with the sweet, bright smile that she never gave to Roland. “ I no. tioed you were letting it elacken a little just now; and Zuleika will be 011 like lightning it she gets her head.” “ Thanks,” replied Ilma, obeying him at once. Roland bit his lip hard. He resented Sir Philips interference Wherp, as he chose to think, it was needless, seeing that he himself was by Ilma’s side. “W'hy, Darrell," he could not resist saying, “a good gallop will take some of the mischief out of Zuleika.” “0f oourse"â€"â€"reising her straight. black brows. “I won’t; that’s all. Who’s to make me? Not uncle.” “You might change your mind.” “Yes, when grass grows blue and flowers head down,’ said Ilme, perversely. “New look. Bel. There’s Gonneby Fell, isn’t it? Will you have a race? Torn. won’t beat Zu leikn.” They were riding ahead of the other three as Zuleike. tossed up her head, sniffing the breeze from the open moorland. Sir Philip rode up to Ilme’s side, and laid his hand lightly on her bridle hand. “ Bother your wheat. fields !" said Ilma to Roland, when he was trying to point out some peculiarly fine specimens of that cereal. “ You’ll never make u farmer of me. Rol. I don’t care for it one bit; I am not going to live in the country, you know." "How do you-'k'now, 0025? You're very confident." Meanwhile Ilma, not having the remotest idea. of her cousin’s feelings, gave him a. bun- dred wounds from sheer carelessness. She was about as wild as Zuleiks herself, and horse and rider played rar9_pranks. , Of course Roland did not reflect that his nature and his cousin’s were quite antagonis- tie, and that her training and education had utterly unfitted her for country life, as he understood it. They had not a taste in com- mon. She liked the country in a general poetic kind of way. she was fond of riding and boating and flowers and birds ; but she had several times declared that she could not endure to live in the country as her cousins did. So Roland blundered on, and madly imagined that this beautiful sprite might be induced to think of him as a. lover, it only she cenld learn to fear. if not distrust. Sir Sir _Philip Darrell. His rivall Yes; Roland Sabine, though he had repudiated the accusation of being in love with Ilma Costello, admitted to himself without reserve that he felt for Ilma what he had never felt for any woman before. It was true that in a fashion he had been in love three or four times. At Cambridge he had even considered himself engaged to the sister of a college friend ; but, when she returned his present and letters, with one from herself announcing her mar- riage to the oldest and richest ef the done, he was rather mortifie to find how little his happiness was aflecte by the event, and how impossible it was for him to lose his interest in hunting and his appetite for break- fast. At the present time Roland flirted after a fashion with Zeph Heston ; but he meant no evil by it ; and he would have been genuine- ly surprised to discover that he had made any deepimpression on the girl’s heart. He had met her sometimes by accident, some times half on design by both sides,snd walked with henand had kissed her when they parted ; he had also given her ribbons and trinkets. But all this had been done without Job Hes ton's knowledge ; for, like his ancestor. Job was not, humble miller though he was, one to bear dishonor meeldy; and Roland did not care to incur the sturdy miller's wrath ; be- sides. he did not care much about Zeph at the best of times, and just now he cared less than nothing ; for Ilma had completely cap. tivated him. ' Roland saw the transfer of the flowers; and the incident, trifling in itself, did not certainly tend to diminish his resentment against its too fascinating hero. Even though Sir Philip did not dispute Ilma‘e society with himl but for 119er two miles rode between Rose and Janie, wlviile Roland and Ilms. rode practically aloné, yet the young man was hot softened toward his rival. and earnestly at her face, and saw that her color was a. httle heightened, and that there was a. half-sturtledg look in the large sot? eyes , but that was all. He had struck no deep chord; or, if he had, she did not know it herself. “ Tom is too he'azvy, and has not the stride It chanced that Ilma had not yet visited the Weir Mill; and, a: the riders approached " They had reached the opposite bank, and now pulled up for the other: to join them , and firm found herself once more by Roland’s side. “ Pardofi me 1 I will not ask you any more quegtionrs. 7 Thanks. Ilma.” of me brief momentâ€"one moment to hold thee in these arms, to feel thy heart f rob an answer to mine, to kiss thy sweet xps, and hear them whisper, ‘Philip. I love thee 1’ ” But Ahe only saidâ€" Sir Philip dropped his hand, and turned away. She believed in the curse, believed that there was was and death in leving him, and yet did not fear him ; then it was not too lateâ€"she did not love him. Nay. in so short a. time how should she? And yet, in the very moment that he rejoiced that he could still save her, his heart was crying out beating wildly against its prison bars, ” Ob, Ilma, Ilme, my 30111, were a thousand years of life to be mine, I would give them all for the bliss “ That the rams will come early I have no doubt, Ilma; but, as to the rest, it may or may not. be; indeed, the ' needful sacrific- ing ’ must be brought about quickly, or an- other victim must be found, or I shall not be here to give up my life for some one as yet unknown.” Sir Philip‘s hand was on her bridle again, on her hand,whioh trembled under the touch, yet not more than his, which rested there so lightly, yet lingeringly. ” I cannot but believe it, Sir Philip; and yet â€"yetâ€"â€"-” “ Yet what ?”-â€"-as she paused. The girl flushed and paled in a breath. “ Ah, do not ask me 1" Her eyes fell and her bosom heaved. How could she say to him that she believed that a noble life could not be doomed for ever for a sin not his. that a noble love given and re- ceived must be a savior, and not a destroyer ? She migi t have said it three days beforeâ€"4 even perhaps yesterday; but now she shrank from the very subject. _ “ Don’t laugh at me, please.” said Ilmn. trembling; “ it is not onlyâ€"only the curse I mean. but the otherâ€"what they say about the floods this year.” “ Ilma," said the sweet low voice, resolute- ly controlled. “answer me. There is no jest- ing now. Do you believe in the curse that is on ngy homer?” 7 Ilma did not know that h1s jesting tone was a refuge for himself ; in her tones there was no doubt. but an eflable dread. a yearn- ing after a. possibility. the wild eflort to grasp at some means of escape; but the feeling thus unconsciously expressed might not have really taken a hold on the girl's inner life. She could not be indifferent to his face : but it need not influence her whole existence. The girl drew a long deep breathâ€"it might have been of relief, or of pain, or both. “ Ay,” he answared. glancing over the low parapet. with a strange thought of what that swift stream might be bearing away before many days were past ; “ and it will be running six miles an hour or more before long.” Ilma's words were barely revelant to lhis remark. “ Sir Philip. is it all true-really true?" she said in a low tone. “ Skep tical, still, young Americaâ€"after what I showed you the other day too, and the dregdful __stories_ I told you 7” Roland proposed crossing the Coalmere and returning home by the Mill ; and, as no one objected to the idea, they made for a narrow bridge that spanned the river about three or four miles above Searth Abbot. Only ‘two horses abreast could cross this bridge. and here it happened that Sir Philip Darrell and Hum. were side by side again. " What a rapid current' the rivuer has I” said the girl, afraid that he should think she had been annoyed when he had last spoken to her. Ilma made no answer, but silently loosed her bridle and rode ofl again, Sir Philip by her side. She could not have spoken one word. She still kept her face away from him, though now there was an added pain that yet helped her to gain self control. She was a child to him then â€"onlya child? Well, and did not she behave like a child? What else should he think her ? She was not seventeen yet, not for another week; so it was only kindness when he said that no- thing was a trouble that was done for her. He only wanted to tease her when he mocked her about the flowers .; andâ€"why, of course he would not have given her Zuleika if he had thought she was more than a child 1 Well. here were'the others ; and how vexed Roland was looking, though he laughed, and called out “ Truants l” Then the girls came up, and there was a good deal of laughter and banter; and Ilma laughed as mueh as any one ; but she was conscious all the time that Roland was anything but pleased. She did not care in the least about that, and was as far as ever from imagining why he should be vexed. except that he had not wanted her to leap the ditch. She let him keep her by his side, however, and talked and laughed and seemed in high spirits. “ Don‘t trouble your bonnie head, Ilma dear.” he said half lightly. half caressingly, as one might speak to 9. child. “ I am so grieved that I have caused you even a pessing trouble I But the sound came on me suddenâ€" ly and unnerved me ; for I was forgetting the shadows in the sunshine. and needed a re- minder, I suppose. Harkâ€"there is Roland's shout! Shall we make a. detour round the bracken yonder and join them ?" She raised herhead and followed his glance, which seemed to answer her, towards the river. For a few moments she set quite silent. listening to the roar of the weir, her eyes dim With blinding tears; but her face was quite turned from her companion, so that he could not see it. His strong will rose to meet the great need of the moment, to hide the truth from Ilma. Yet even the quick command of feature which had become second nature to him could not, in the few seconds that elapsed, smooth away all sign of deep emotion, find Ilma's keen glance was keener now, too, to read his face. ” What 13 it ‘2” she said hurriedly, pausing and leaning forward, with her larg 9 clear eyes full of trouble, “ Is it â€"-. Ah3 forgive me 1” flaws !" “Yes, les belles flaws,” he'said mockingly; then. wheelmg his horseâ€"“ Now then, give rein 1” ~ Zuleika needed no more. With a. joyous neigh she tossed up her graceful head and dashed ofi. Darrell. who of course could have easily passed his young companion, kept at her side ; and away they went over the free moorland, with the breeze whistling past them and the hot sun blazing down. In the med delight of that gallop Ilma almost for- got the pain Sit Philip's words and manner had given, and scarcely thought, but only felt, that half the happiness would be gone if he had not been with her. . She had not looked at his face, but started at the ring of bitterness in his tone. Some- thing made her instinctively keep her eyes turned from him as she answeredâ€" Slr Philip knew full well why his pulse throbbed so quickly as he rode over the moorland by Ilma’s side; and the strange old German legend came back to him. Had he been mad, mad indeed? But was it too late to save herâ€"to bear the came alone ? Ilma.” “And look," she exclaimed suddenly. “119w well you have fastened the flowers, Sir Phihp; thgy have not fallen out !” Darrell’s dark gray eyes flushed. and the firm hand on the bridle trembled a little ; he spoke impulsively. ‘ “ Yet, if they fell, you would not care, for such a leap,” said Darrell, watching, with a. certain sense of triumph, Roland galloping off ; for he had Ilma to himself now for a few brief momenta of happiness» Doubtless Sabine would think he had urged the girl to leap on purpose, knowing that he could reach her and that the others could not. But what did it matter II He was conscience-clear in this at least, and, for the rest, Ilma. was by his side. But I should care indeedL-Zes belles ” You’re not in love with her. all ?” she said, clenching her hand before her. “ All right, Mr. Sabine. No, you needn't tell me any lies ; and don’t be afraid I’ll tell of you. Father would throw me over the weir if he knew you had been making love to me ; but it’s a sin and a. shame ; and I’ll have my revenge yet on you and the foreign missy.” “ Zeph, dear Zephâ€"” But Zeph had rum OE. and Roland wns‘ _ Zeph a short hard laugh checked him show- ing him that he ba_d betrayed himself. “ Will he, by Heaven ?” began Roland passiopately. , " You know best," replied the girl with a. savage gleam in her black eyes. _ “ Pooh, you fancy I am in love with her I” " Fancy? Why do you change color even now. rind why do you look so black at Dark Darrell I’ But, if he wants her, he’ll have her, be certain.” .. zep'h." he said, u what ails you? Whaf barn: hag Ilma‘Costfallo dong you 2" , Ilma made no replyto this; and the visitors descended the stairs, took leave, androdeieway. But Roland lingered behind unfit pretense of tightening his saddle-gums. and Zeph was standing near to him. ‘ “ I hope you may never be," put in Roland, laughing ; “ for you couldn’t escape by the window-It’s a. clear descent of fifty feetâ€"- and you couldn’t drop through the trap to this floor without the certainty of breaking a. limb.” “ Ay. that it is, Sir Philip. Missy wouldn't like f9 b9 imprjponed here. ab 7” \ “ No," Haiti Ilma shortlfâ€"she had taken a strong dislike to Job Heston. He went down the ladderfirst, and, turning as he stepped upon the floor, gave her his hand in courtesyâ€"for active Ilma needed no help. His slight hand closed over here like a vice, and the premium seemed to reach even to the girl’s heart. If her eyes had met his â€"if they had been aloneâ€"the self-control that kept him silent still would have surely given way. He felt it. and he knew itâ€"felt, with a kind of terror, how a. man may be at the mercy of a moment. But Ilma did not look at him; and Job Heston and Roland Sabine were standing waiting. “ Ilma thinks the loft a. dreary place," and Darrell, smiling and addressing Roland ; and then added to Job, ” Your Mill is an eerie place, Heston." “Come," said Sir Philip gentlyâ€"”come into the sunshine once more. Why, child, your lips are white I” The loft seemed to have been used at one time for stacking corn; but it had not served any purpose for years. and seemed a dreary place indeed. One lattice, small and deeply sunk in the wooden well, looked out over the landscape; and lime; gazed through the open loop-holeâ€"for there was no glass in itâ€"at the river, flowing brightly in the sunlight, the tumbling weir, the fields and woods. the turrets of the Latches, and the red walls of the Grange peeping from among the clustering trees ; and through the summer sit the voices of Bose and Janie Sabine floated up- wards. For fully five minutes Ilma looked out upon the beautiful scene, her vivid imagi- nation conjuring up another picture, when the river would bé like a foaming sea, whirlu ing away boughs of trees, and perehance liv- ing things too, in its fierce anger. She drew back, shuddering again. ' . Above the floor on which Sir Philip and his companions now stood was a loft, which was reached by a rough ladder. There was a good view, Job Heston said. from the window up there; and'Ilma went up, accompanied only by Sir rhilip. â€" I‘lma. sHuddei‘ed,'md instinctively drew nearer to her companion. She remembered his words afterwards. “ Oh, no, please; I want to see all about it! But, Sir Philip, I don’t. like its owner. ” “Nor I , if he were not a miller, he would be quite equal to the role of a murderer. " “ Do you mean that. 7” “ Fully I am not jeeting; and he may play that part yet.” “ There 13 something eerié and dnoinfi‘y‘in the very air of Searth Abbot, I think, ” re- plied Darrell. “ You must wish you had never come here, 11mm“ Shall we leave the Mill?" -â€" --«-~- " May as well see it while ya can, misey." he said presently, as they passed up {tom the lower towards the upper floors. “The old Mill hasn't long tolast, I’ll warrant." ” No, it won’t, Mr.Sab1ne the foundations are less secure than you'd think, I know. They’ ve been repaired more than once in my time. But, if it will be, it will be, and when it will be." And‘Job closed his mouth after that for fully ten minutes. ‘ “ It looks dismal somehow, and makes me think of the story of Bishop Hana and the rats.” said _Ilma., irfi German}. to _Sir Philip._ Then Heston came out, and, as politely as he could, offered to Ehow the young lady over the Mill. Rose and Janie remained in the saddle, but Sir Philip and Roland oncom- psnied Ilma. ;- andJob, who was habitually saturnine. showed the gu‘l all over the quaint old place. “ Pooh, Hesfim l" oliaerved Réiifid. will fitting! a 3053:1333} yep" But Zeph was a woman, and grieved for the 1133;180:953 and winning 19rd of the manor. The riders came on and drew up before the mill, and Sir Philip, ever courtly, raised his but to Zeph, as she ran forward curtseying. and asked smilingly it Miss Costello might look over the mill. “ Bah, girl I Seeâ€"the foreign girl rides Zuleika, the choicest mare in the Court sta- ble. Do you think Sir Philip will leave South Abbot? No: he 1 Tie his fate that keeps him here; and, if he said today that he would leave, I should know it could not be. Be'éure Sir Philip will never see gray hairs, and a stranger will reign at the Court below the trees are here." “ Surely, Sir Philip, and welcome I” replied Zeph, stealing a. glance Roland. But Roland waleookgm gt Ilma , and quh hatggl {lma “ Fatner,” said 'Zeph, turning pale, i. Why Ihould it not be this time ?” “ Of course, father; yet what if she should not heed it and man-i es ’8in Philip ?” “ It’s never Sir Philip will marry, I wot," returned the miller grimly, “ unless he takes his wife home between now and St. Bartholo- mew; for the floods will be out, and he has but a. few more days of life.” Job Heston’s gipsy descent was plainly marked on his face, and it was not a. pleasant face; the brows were heavy, the lips thick, and the eyes sinister. Zeph too had ceased from her occupation, and also watched the riders. She knitted her brows and clenched her hands under her apron as she looked from the {gang Squire to Ilma. “ What am I to her. 9" she muttered. “ But, if the Dark Darrell fancies her she would love him rather than Roland Sabine. Who woulii notâ€"except for the curse?” “Zeph!” said Job suddenly, startling the girl from her angry thoughts. “ Yes, “that.” “ They are coming here. I suppose they want to show the foreign misay the Weir Mill. I’ll lay it she knows the s‘ory long ago! Ha, ha. ?" Yes, there stood Job Heston, with folded arms, leaning against the door, and watching the advancing riders serutinisingly, or rather watching Sll‘ Philip and 11mm, for the horses were coming up the river bank all abreast at an easy trot. Ilma riding between Darrell and Roland. Sabine laughed. . “My dean 002, you must not think that there is an active hatred on Heston’s part; against the Darrells, though certainly he hears them no good will; moreover. Dgn'ell himself ls too haughty to regard the hatred of inferiors. ” “But Sir Philip might not like.” began the git}. 7 , ‘~ Ilma however persisted in appealing to Sir Ph_1tli_]3. He 1s._ughed_.» A “ Your wish would be enough,” he said gallantly, " even if I had any objection; and I have not indeed. There is Job Heston at the door. and Zeph feeding chickens outside." it, Roland proposed that she should see now. '- CHAPTER VIII; .. It After dinner, Roland claimed his game of chess, and was the more pleased to do so be- cause he knew that Sir Philip would have asked for manic. Rose protested ngainst “ sticking Ilmn down In chum," but 11m: slid Mrs. Sabine felt anxious on her son’s ee- connt. She could not help seeing that Ilms’s great beauty and tenoinetions had made a deep impression on Roland, and she might well ask herself what the end was likely to be, with euoh‘u brilliant counter attraction as Sir Philip Darrell ; and, even if Darrell had not been on the scene, Mrs. Sabine had too much good sense not to see that there was no com- munity of thought between the young Gene- dmn and her Cumberland relative. Nothing was revealed through Ilma's wearing the rose; but she felt certain that Roland meant more in offering it than the girl had _any idea of. Roland glanced at his dark face, and won- dered whether hil gift had a than for him. Sir Philip however read all the Itory of the flower as plainly u if it had been written on the table before him, and he smiled to him- self as he new the young Squire’s look and divined whet passed within him. “ He dare to dream of offering his love to 111119. I” was the haughty Derrell’n thought. Wedded; to 111121 the girl would indeed be “ mated with a clown." .“ I sin sâ€"ura she would hove been equally welcome it she had taken it," “id Mrs. Sabine, smiling. “You must treat this like your own home, Ilma." ” How good you ere aunt Sabine l" returned Ilma gratefully. the quick color flushing her cheek again, but the deeper because she knew that Darrell had looked :1; her. Ilmn. laughed, and tried to turn the conver- sation from herself ; and the announcement of dinner came to her rescue. At dinner she was placed next to Rolsnd, Sir Philip being opposite. between Bose and Jamie. Sudden- ly, while Roland was saying something to her which she hardly heard. for she was lis- tening to whet Darrell was saying to her aunt about the opera in Florence, Rose or claimedâ€"â€" She put the rose in her dress and went down. Mrs. Slbine called her to her side and complimented her on her leap, about which, it seemed. Bone and Janie had been u bragging.” “Ilma, have you robbéd my pet tree of that level): damask rose?" “ No," answered the girl. starting. but laughing too; “I did not ink. in. Roland gaverit to me." “ Come down soon,” said Roland, with in- ward elation noticing her contusion; tnd Iln3_a promiped. _ “ Then Roland is the thief ; but you are welcgme, my dear.” She took it and gave him her hand. He drew her towards him and kissed her eheeks ; and, for the first time, Ilma. colored under her cousin’s one», and drew bwk quickly from him. “ Never niind," the “lid? filmy. “va am very impetuoul, Roland. Thanks for the rose, I will wear it." The appeal was well made to a generous nature. The girl could not reject it ; and yet she felt that her cousin was less grieved at having ofl’ended her then afreid. She did not really forgive him. because she was sure the feeling that had diet-ted his conduct was still in his heart ; and she knew he had spoken falsely when he owned only to thoughtless. ness. She smiled a. little, glanced keenly into Roland’s flee from beneath her long this]; lashes, and took the rose he oflered. Just as me was ready so aesoend to the drawing-room. a knock came to thedoor, and. when she opened it, there we. Roland. look- ing very penitent and imploring, and holding a beautiful half-opens} damagk rose. “ Do forgive me. Ilma,” he said; “ and wear this rose, Willyou? Ididn't mean to vex you. You know I couldn’t have meant that, Ilma.” - Not one look or action of either personage in the brief little seene hsd escaped Sir Philip Darrell; but his deliosey of feeling had for- hidden him to take any overt notice. Why should llma be so sngry with her cousin’s not if she had believed it whet he had tried to re- present it. simply the result of s passing thought? Besides, there was more thsnanger in the brown eyes, more than she was conscious of; and it made the blood of the man who loved her course swiftly through his veins. and the resolve registered but 3 few hours since was almost forgotten. She, poor child, would doubtless think it would all pass for a. girl‘s impetuous pride, sud would cherish the flowers in defiance of Roland. not for love of Philip. And he who had bestowed the simple gift drew from it a wild. and hope. When Ilma reached her dressing-room. she put the flower: oaremlly in water; and not a few burning tear: fell upon the trembling little hands that performed the task. She £er a good deal ashamed of herself. though she scarcely knew why; for she was not a bit ashamed of her anger with Roland; and some idea, too slight for definite thought. was struggling in her aorelyAperplexed mind that Roland did not think of her an “ only a child,” whatever Sir Philip thought. Ilme saw the action, and such a blue of passion glowed in her eyes and flushed her very brow that Roland reociled, startled. She sprang forward swiftly, and picked up the flowers. her little hsnd trembling with the grief and anger which she yet contrived to keep from passing her lips. She felt just then as if she hated Roland; she feltâ€"it seemed to flash upon her like I sudden lightâ€"that he had thrown flown the flowers because Sir Philip had given them to her; and there was enough ehildishness in the women’s passion that shook her to mske herwieh that she had been a boy. and soeould have struck her in- solent cousin. ’ “ My dear girl!” said Roland, seeingthnt he had made a grievous mistakeâ€"~Darrell, talk- ing to Rose, did not seem to hue noticed the episode-â€"“ pray forgive me I I had no idea you wanted to keep the flowers ; you left them yourself. They; are all dying: Rolend stood still for a few moments, with as black a look on his face as ever a man’s face were; but. as he slowly {allowed his cousin. hie brow cleared somewhat. After all. he said to himself, Ilma had either forgotten the flowers or cared too little for them to take t‘hem from the horse's ear herself; end her sudden enthusiesm for them wee something very like an ontbreek el oh'ldieh petilanoe at what she thought gratuitous interference. Roland Sabine understood much better the difierenees between one soil end another and the qualities shot so to meke a good hunter than the merest outlines of a women's na- ture. *- “ If I did, what then ‘2 Why did you go out of your way to touch them '2" she answered. and without another word walked straight away and up the terrace steps. “ If you like, Roland, ” she snswered, think- ing a. great deal more about the flowers still in Zuleika’ s earâ€"faded now, but not dead-â€" than about Roland and his teq nest. She would have taken them out if she had dated; but, with Roland there and Sir Philip close by, she felt afraid somehow. Bolnndp how- ever, had not for’gotten them; and, when he had helped Ilma to alight. he turned back with assumed carelessness. Ind, catching the mate’s bridle iron: the bend of the young groom who was holding it, took out the flow- ers and threw them upon the ground. fain to mount his horse and ride after the others. Darrell, ~ glancing beck, saw that Roland was talking to Zeph, and he drew his own conclusions ; but he said nothing ; and the party rode up to the Lsrohes almost in silence. Mrs. Sabine wanted Ilms and her companion to remain for the rest of the day ; but Ilms did not like to- absent herself from her aunt for so long. Moreover. how could she pass the evening in her riding-dress 1 At first therefore she refused, till it was sug- gested that Miss Durniord should be sent for, as well as a change of apparel. Perhaps, too, Sir Philip’s quick. low " You can surely stay ?" helped far more than she would have cared to acknowledge to mske her consent. This was as they were. dismounting. Then Sir Philip left Ilma to her cousin, and attend- ed to the Sabine girls. “ How good of you to stay 1” said Roland. looking up with beaming eyes, though he wished Darrell had declined the invitation. “ Promise me a game at chess, Ilms.” Six years elapse. The family remove to Malahide township. Fannie becomes be- trothed to a young farmer and looks forward to the time when her lover shall have saved sufficient to embellish a little home of her own, and make her an honest wife. 80 near did this really seem that she yielded a too confiding love and the light of her life died out. No longer the pure girl, looking coyly forward to a happy wedding and a cosy future, she be- came the victim of shame and the libertine who had effected her ruin proclaimed the fact broadcast. About midnight one July night. in the year 1873, three young men who had been drinking hard during the evening, went to the house of the girl‘s father, south of 0r- 'well, in this county, and demanded admit. tance, taunting the girl with her shame. A loaded gun belonging to her brother rested on a ledge in the kitchen. This the mad- dened girl seized, and ordered them to ad- vance at their peril. One of them, named Bradley, retorted, using some vile epithet, and proceeded to force his way into the house. Fannie fired, and a load of slugs lodged in the young man’s abdomen. His compan ions assisted him into a vehicle and drove off for medical assistance, but the injured man died within a few hours. Miss Betterly was arrested. lodged in the same cell which she now occupies, but was acquitted by the coroner's jury on the ground of justifiable homicide, the verdict stating that she shot Bradley in defense of her virtue. After her release, the progress of the girl in crime was as rapid as the flight of a pestilence. Step by step, gradually this wretched female became involved in a career of Vice. frightful to con- template; hopeless at its commencement, loathsome and repulsive in itscourse; friend- less, forlorn and unpitied at its miserable conclusion. The life of Fannie Better- ly has been that of the class to which she 1belongs-4a class unhappy but too extensiveâ€"â€" the very existence of which should make men’s hearts bleed. Who knows but this fall. en sister might now be a happy wife and mother if some one had consoled her after her discharge from prison ? 'Irue, one kind lady in this town did, about four years ago. ofler to save this betrayed girl from the sister- hood of sorrow, pain and shame, but she had a daughter, and she could not take Fannie to reside with her, so she abandoned her philan- thropic mission. Thus cast down when she had just made a firm resolve to escape from the grasp of the dragon, Fannie realized that she was infected with a moral disease that Among the inmates of the county jail at present is a young woman who has gone through all the stages of the suffering that follows woman’s fall, and is now brought face to face with the consequences of crime; upon whose features several years of depravity have fixed their brand as legibly as if a red- hot iron had seared them. Her name. is Fannie Betterly, and the crime which has this time entangled her in the meshes of the law is that of burglary. Her history has been, indeed, an eventful one. Fifteen years ago this unmentionable libel upon womanhood lay asleep in a clean, warm bed. She was than ten years of age. No better child than she ever lived. She was as chaste as ice and as pure as snow. The writer fancies he sees her thenâ€"dying asleep, her lips half opene d, showing her white teeth. Her blue eyes are covered with purple-veined eyelids. Her loose ‘hair, lichen like, strays about her face. The damp of innocent sleep lies on her forehead and neck. Her little brother of four years who has cried for two hours to be allowed to sleep with her, lies slumbering by her side. Plunged in childhood's dreamless sleep he lies. One white hand is smothering under his thick curls. and the other, clenched tight- ly, rests like a flower on his sister’s pulseful throa. They are a beautiful pair. The mother comes stealing in, lamp in hand, smiling and laden with love. The soft kisses drop on the nerveless hands and on the stray- Ing hair. The children smile in their sleep â€"that dear old superstition, if true, that chil- dren smile in their sleep when angels are near. How beautiful they erg. “ Ilmaf’ he said, as the girl struck the last chord in a. marccau of Schubert’s, " where is your rose 2” Ilma. wait to the piano and played, and Roland came nearâ€"not that he cared for classical music or understood it, but he could not bear to leave Ilma alone with Sir Philip Darrell. Suddenly Roland noticed that the damask rosejvas gope. The Checkered Life of Fannie Betterlv “ Do you offer a wineglaaa of water to a. thinztsy~ man, Ilma? You know you would never tire me with music. You might become weary of playing, but I Ihould never be tired of listening.” “ Salim !” said Ilma. laughing. “' You mean one.” “ Yesâ€"noâ€"how can I stop you ‘2 Do move yogr _que_en, or I_shall take fiber. ' ’7 Roland turned very red and obeyed in silence, though he bit hie lip till the blood almost came. In three more moves he was oheckmated ; and Ilme declared he deserved Jenie’e condemnation. “ Play a game of draughts, Ilma ; that won‘t take long, and it’s quite early in the evening.” “ Not now, ROIâ€"presently." “ They don’t wan: you over there. They’re playing at something.” _ Bunâ€"even as he sfioke, Darrell crossed the room; and the next moment he was bending down to 11am. “ Am I too impatient. May I not beg for a little music ‘9” How different this man from blunt countri- fled Rolandâ€"the soft, sweetly modulated voice, the crisp refined accent. ythe tone half pleading, wholly deferential, the manner that forbade denial because it made a favor of ac- quiescence ! Wes Roland so blind that he could not see how the young face lighted up as it was turned to Darrell. 9 Was his ear too dull to catch a. ring in the girl‘s voice that was not in it when she spoke to her Cumberland cousin 2 “ What shall I play 7" she asked, rislng at once. “ Play some of the pieces you played from menlory at the Court the oghet day.” “ Well, then, I am foolish. and don’t: know what it in that you mean, and I don’t want'to know. I shall sweep up the men it you will not finish “no game properly.” “ 11an will 'you letâ€"me. explain another fine ?” “ You 360:" he said, “I am not thinking of the g9me.”r “ Then I wish you would; or I shall read a book while you are meditating." ” Ilma, why are you so cruel 7" His tone and look startled. even frightened her ; but she was too young to know how to mee‘ such an advance. She turned pale, but her eyes flashed angrily. “ Don't be foolish, Roland, 01â€"" “ I am not foolish, Ilms,”he interupted. “I mean what I sayâ€"I do indeed.” Roland and Ilma. were left pretty well alone. for Sir Philip and the rest were at the other end of the room, and there seemed to be a good deal of fun going forward. Ilma longed to join the group.” but she did not like, to play recklessly, and Roland was long over his moves. Roland looked up: Ilma leEned hick, clawing her hands behind her head. and met_his sage}: Iookryvithi one of infliffprenoe , ” Oh, Rolandfl she sand at last, "don’t take a. month_ over a move, there’ a a. good boy I” “ Not he,” remarked Janie frankly ; “ Ro- land is a very bad player.” “ How do you know Ilma. is a. better f” asked Bolagd, beginning to set the men. And she moved away, while Roland hit his lip. wishing he had Sir Philip Darrell’s [olden tongue. He used to call it “confounded for- eign palavering” at one time, but Cupid alters sogqmen’s estimate of the graces of life. she had promised, and Roland had not the good/grace to release her. “ vaon’t promise to be very grave over it,” [he said. as her cousin drew up the chess table. “ I am sure you will beat me.” " For shame, R01 1" said his sister. “ Yo might have made a pretty speech then. Re- member, Ilma is city bred and used to all that sort o_f thing." AN EVENTFUL CAREER. â€"A French contemporary has recently published a list by which it appears that dur- ing the year just passed there occurred in France twenty-two duels arising from politi- cal causes. Among these were several which may be termed journalistic, the parties in- cluding five editors, eight writers, and three directors. An English daily analyzing the ‘list, points out that the editors were particu- ‘larly unfortunate or clumsy, as they were ‘wounded in four encounters out of five. 0! the five cases in which contributors were en- gaged, the knights of the quill were three times successful, while one battle was “ with- out results.” From a political point of View. the democratic combatants were found to be the weaker party. There were only two fatal rencontres.. In the duel which took place on the 2nd of June, between the Count do Losta and the Marquis de Gil de Olivores, the for- mer was killed : and in that between M. de Marsent. on the 23rd of November. the former was the victim. In two instances no blood was spilled, pistols being the weapons. M. Wuddington fought with the editor of a country paper, and wounded his adversary. The journalists make a very respectable show (or otherwise) in the dashing statistics. â€"-Weld, of Lullworth Castle, whose grand- uncle was 3 Cardinal, and who is the head at one of the oldest Roman Catholic houses in England, has gone into bankruptcy from losses on the turf, on which he ran his horses under the name of Sherborne. The petition. ing creditor is R. Morris. one of a pair of Jew 3 brothers, who unite in the profession of horse racing that of bill discounting at the rate of from 60 to 80 per cent. They began their career as are iers in a gambling hell in Frederick stree , Dublin, and making a lucky purchase there of an Irish horse, Chanti- cleer, won the Chester cup and a large pot in stakes and betting. They then tmnslerred their attentions to London, where they have ruined a large number of young turf tyros. â€"The Borough of Launcesten, in Com‘ well, is one of those which escaped the sweep ‘of the Reform Bill. It has been regularly bought and sold, like any other merchandise. Of recent years the Duke of Northumberlnnd, who owned 1t, sold it to Mr. Campbell, who represented it in 1865. From him it passed to Fitzwillism Dick, an Irish M. P.. who in- herited an immense fortune from his uncle, Quentin Dick. who returned Judge Lopes, now of the English bench, his lawyer, as member ; he sold it to 001. Deakin, a. brewer who made an immense fortune by public houses in Manchester, andhe first, and, when he was unsented for bribery, his son sinoehave represented it. -â€"â€"The Boston Fish Bureau's report com tains a tableg giving the number of larger vessels engaged 1n the New England cod fish- ery. crews and quantity of fish caught during the year. The Massachusetts fleet numbers 376, 17New Hampshire 14.31111 Maine 189; total for New En g,1and 579 vessels, with 6, 068 men. The total catch of fish by these vessels foote up 647, 426 quintals. It is estimated that the small fishing boats on the coast caught about 300, 000 quintals of fish in addi- tion to the above. so that the entire New Eng - lend catch may be put down at about 1 ,‘3-000 000 quintals, whichP at a low valuation, in estimated to be worth 62, 500, 000. â€"Biver fish in India. are said to taste like boiled wool ; but as it has hitherto been re- garded as impossible to transport sea. fish to the interior, Anglo-Indians had to be content with boiled wool or dispense altogether with fish diet. Messrs. MoHinoh dz 00., o! Kur- mchee. however, have surmounted the dim- oulty. and are now sending fresh mullet and sea. salmon from Kurachee to Delhi. The fish on being caught are suspended by twine in fresh water, which is gradually converted into solid blocks of ice three feet square and nine inches thick. which can be sent by rail for a thousand miles without melting. i A correspondent of the Scientific American says: “Let any one who has an attack of lockjaw take a small quantity of turpentine, warm it and pour it on the wound, no matter where the wound is, and relief will follow in less than a minute. Nothing better can be,v applied to a severe cut or bruise than cold ' turpentine; it will give certain reliei almost instantly. Turpentine is also a sovereign remedy for croup Saturate a. piece of flan- nel with it and place the flannel on the throat; and chest, and in every case three or four drops on a lump oi sugar may be taken in- wardly.” . â€"Annie Flags declined James Drugg’s ofler of mnmage, at Front Royal, Va., and when be pressed for her reason, she said that she was in love with Noah Beniord. This was untrue. and she regretted saying it. for Druggs vowed vengeance upon his supposed rival. She feared the threat would be exe- cuted, and sent a letter of caution to Ben- ford; but it arrived too late, for he was found murdered, presumably by Druggs. â€"-Advices from Melbourne fully confirm the report that the much-dreaded phylloxera has made its appearance in the vineyards 0! Australia. A select committee of the Victorian Assembly recently paid a visit to the vineyards which are planted on the Barrapool Hills. near Geelong. They found that one of the vineyards was unmistakably smitten with the disease, the insects being visible even without the aid of a. magnifying glass. â€"In the Lippe-Schaumburg forest at Tur- bs, in Hungary, a peculiar animal was recons- ly shot, which was at first supposed to be a. very powerful fox. The Vienna zoologists, however, have shown that it is a cross be< tween a wolf and a. fox. 1153 form is that o! a fox, but it has the color of a wolf. â€"“The Associated Press is a. great boon, s it not ?” asked he. “It is indeed, " she re- plied in soft tones , “George and I had one alllast winter, but papa came in one night be- fore George could take his arm away, and acted dreadfully.” â€"Macon, Gs., is considerably exercised about a. bull that has taken possession of a vacant lot near a schoolhouse, and makes the children’s lives a burden to them. Macon has a clause in its city laws prohibiting cows from roaming the streets, but nothing is said about bulls. Hence these steers. The city fathers are gravely debating whether theJmfl can be abated on the ground that he is a. nui- sance. â€"A bill to revive the whipping post for wife heaters is likely to pass in the Indiana Legislature. It limits the punishment to twenty five strokes on the bare back with the cat.’o-nine-teils. -A society of Bohemian nobles intends to buy the old family castle of Eabsbutg. in Swit- zerland. They will present it to the Crown Prince Rudolph. Fannie Betterly went from bad to worse. content to continue in that way which soon ends in a black and hopeless night. Not long since she was committed to jail for two months for keeping a disorderly house. While incarcerated her mother came to see her. It would be absolutely impossible to imagine a more poverty-stricken object, or a creature so borne down in soul by the; ex- cess of misery and destitution as the old w_o- man appeared to be. She was yellow, hag- gard, decrepit, attired in a tattered gown which had once been black. and the remains of an old straw bonnet. with faded ribbon of the same hue. She talked in that low. stifled tone of voice which tells so forcibly of mental anguish ; and every now and then burst into an irrepressible, sharp. abrupt cry of grief, the most distressing sound that ears can hear. The story which the young woman recites is in substance What Is given aboven As she told it, she at intervals covered her face with her hands and wept. They were not the tears of a. thoroughly hardened creature drawn from a. shallow source ; they were the burn- ing, agonizing, reluctant tears that suffering women shed, wrung from the heart as if it were its blood.â€"â€"St. Thomas Times. â€"The Pullman Company is said to earn on each of 474 care about $180 a month. even the forgiveness of God and the blood 01 Christ will not entirely separate her from the eyes of the moral world. AROUND THE WORLD.