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Lucia. was verypale, and her large soft eyes wore a demdedly frightened look. She seemed to have walked fast, and was ou‘: of breath. Evidently omething had happened. ‘ The very day after this, Octavia opened the fourth trunk. She had had it brought down from the garret, when' there came a summons on the door, and Lucia. Gaston ap- peared. " Octavia,” she said. ” Mr. Dugald Binnie is at Oldolough.” “ Who is he 7” ' “ He is my grand uncle.” explained Lucia, tremulously. “ He has a great deal of money. Grandmamma " She stopped short, and colored, and drew her slight figure up. " I do not quite understand grandmamma, Octavia,” she said. “ Last night she came to my room to talk to me ; and. this morning she came again, andâ€"oh 1" she broke out, indig‘ nantly, “ how could she speak to me in such a manner 1" " Whatflid she say 7" inquired Octavia. “ She said a great many things.” with great spirit. “ It took her a long time to say them, and I do not wonder at it. It would have taken me a hundred years, if I had been inher place. 1â€"1 was wrong to say I did not understand her â€" I did - before she had finished. ” “ What did you understand ‘1” “ She was afraid to tell me in plain words â€"I never saw her afraid before, but she was afraid. She has been arranging my future for me, and it does not occur to her that I dare object. That is because she knows I am a coward, and despises me for itâ€"and it is what I deserve. It I make the marriage she chooses, she thinks Mr. B1nnie will leave me his money. I am to run after a man who does not care for me, and make myself at- tractive, in the hope that he will eondesoend to marry me. because Mr. Binnie may leave me his money. Do you wonder that it took even Lady Theobald a long time to say that 7” “ Well,” remarked Octavia, “ you won’t do in suppess. I wouldn’t worry. She wants you to marryi Mr. Bsrold, I supxose.” Lucia started. “ How did you guess 1”? she exclaimed. ” 0h,1 always knew it. I didn’t guess.” And she smiled ever so faintly. “ That is one of the reasons why she loathes me so,” she added. Lucia thought deeply for a moment ; ahe recognized, all at once, several things she had been pyfilfiocfi by_ befoyo. _ She walked ‘7 very fast after she left the house. She wanted to reach Uldclough before one whit of her anger cooled down, though. somehow, she felt quite sure that, even when her anger died out, her courage would not flight with it., Mr. Dougald Binnie had not proved to be a very fascinating person. He was an acrid, dictatorial old man ; he contra- dicted Lady Theobald flatly every five min utes. and bullied his man servant ; but it was not against him that Lucia’s indignation was aroused. She felt that Lady Theobald was quite capable of suggesting to him that Francis Barold would be a good match for her, and if she had done so, it was scarcely his fault it he had accepted the idea. She understood now why she had been allowed to visit Octavia, and why divers other things had happened. She had been sent to walk with Francis Barold ; he had been almost re- proached when he had not called ; perhaps her ladyship had been good enough to sug- gest to him that it was his duty to further her plans. She was as capable of that as of anything else which would assist her to gain her point. The girl’s cheeks grew hotter and hotter, her eyes brighter at every step, because every step brought some new thought ; her hands trembled and her heart “ Oh', it is I _It is 1” she said. “ And she has thought of it all the time, when I never suspected her.’_’_ Octavia. smiled a little again. Lucia. sat. thinking, heyhgngs claqud tigytly. “ I am glad I came here,” she said, at length, “ 1 am angry now. and I see things more clearly. If she had only thought of it because Mr. Binnie came, I could have for- given her. more easily; but she has been making coarse plans all the time, and treat- ing me with contempt, Octavia,” she added, turning upon her, with flushing cheeks and sparkling eyes, “ I think that, for the first time in my life, I am in apassion~a real assion. I think Ishall never be afraid of er any more." Her delicate nostrils were dilated, she held her headup,her breath came fast. There was a hint of exultation in her tone. “ Yes,” she said, “ I am in a passion. And I am not afraid of her at all. I will go home and tell her what I think.” And it is quite probable that she would have done so, but for a trifling incident which occurred before she reached her: lady- ghip. And at. that very moment a. gentleman stepped out of. the wood at her right, and flopped before her. She shamed back, with a cry. “ Mr. Burmistone 1" she said ; “ Mr. Bur- mietone 1" She wondered if he had heard her last words ; she fancied he had. He took hold of her shaking little hand, and looked down at her excited face. She knew there would be no use in trying to conceal thetruth, and she was not in’ the mood to make the effort. She scarcely knew herself. ’ ‘ She gave quite a. fierce little laugh. “ I am angry 1” she said. “ You have nev er seen me angry before. I am on my'wey to myâ€"to Lady Theobald.” H5 held her hand as calmly as before. He understood agrem‘. deal more than she could have imagined. “ I shall never be afraid of her again,” she said, as she turned the comet into the road. “Never 1 never 1” “ I am glad I waited for you,” he said, in thaquietest possible tone. “ Something is the matter.” “ I am to marry Mr. Francis Bsrold, if he will take me," she said, with a bitter little smile. “ Mr. Francis Buold. who is so munh in love with meâ€"_es you know. His mother approves of the mi’iteh, and sent him here to make love to meâ€"whieh he has done as you have seen. I have no money ohmy own, but if I make mmiage which pleases him, Dugald Binnie will probably leave me hisâ€"which, it is thought, will be an inducement to my oeusinâ€"who needs one. It I marry him, or rather, he marries me, Lady Theobald thinks Mr. Binnie will be pleased. It does not even matter whether Francis is pleased or notâ€" and, of course, I am out of the qliestionâ€"~ 4but it is hop ed that it will please Mr. Binnie. The two ladies have talked it over and de- cided the matter.1 dare say they have of- fered me to Franeis, who has very hkely re- fused me, though perhaps he may be per- suaded to talent in‘ timeâ€"if I am humble, and he is shown the advantage of having Mr. Binnie’s money added to his ownâ€"but I have no doubt _I shall have to be very “ Whai are you going to say to her ?” he askec}. She mughed Aagrain. ' “ I am going to ask her what; she means. I am going to tell her she has made a mis- take. I am going to prove to her that I am not such a. coward, after all. I am going to tell her thatI dare disobey herâ€"that is what I am going to say to her,” she concluded, de- aisively. He held her hand rather closer. “ Let us take a. s‘roll in the copes and talk it over,” he said. “ It is delicious cool there." And then, almost before she knew what she was doing, she was pouring forth the whole of her storyâ€"even more of it than she had told Octavia. She had not at all intended to do it, but she did it, nevenhlesa. ' “ I don’t want to be cool,” she said. But he drew her gently with him, and a few steps took them into the shade of the young oaks and pines, and thgre he paused. " Ehe has made yeti very angry I ” he laid. By Frances Hodgson Burnett. A PAIR BARBARIAN. CHAPTER XXIII. MAY I GO ?” humble indeed. That is what I learned from Lady Theobald, last. night, and it is what. I am going to talk to her about. Is it enough t0 make one angry, do you thinkâ€"is it 611998?!" Etaâ€"did not tell her whether” he theught it enough or not. He looked at her with steady ayes; , _ “ Lucia,” he said, “ I wish you would let me go and talk to Lady Theobald." - “ You ?” she said, with a little start. “ Yes,” he answered. “ Let me go to her. Let me tell her that, instead of mar- rying Francis Barold, you will marry me. If you will say yes to that I think I can pro- mise that ycu need never be afraid of her any more." The fierce color died out of her cheeks, and the tears rushed to her eyes. She raised her face yith apathetic look. “ 0h," sine whispered, “ you must be very sorry for me. I think you have been sorry for me from the first.’ “ 1am desperately in love with you," he answered. in his quietest way. “ I have been desperately in love with you from the first. May I go 7” She looked at him for a. moment, incredul- onsly. Then she {altered : A. Yes.” She still looked up at him, and than, in spite of her hnpniness, or perhaps because of it, she suddenly began to cry softly, and for- got she had been angry at all, as he took her into his strong, kind arms. The morning of the garden-party arose bright and clear, and Slowbridge awakened in a great state of excitement. Miss Chiekie having worked until midnight that all her orders might be completed, was so over- powered by her labors as to have to take her tea and toast in bed. At Oldclough, varied sentiments prevailed. Lady Theobald’s manner was chiefly distin guished by an implacable rigidity. She had chosen as an appropriate festal costume, a. funeral-black moire antique, enlivened by massive fringes and ornaments of jet â€"-her jewelry being chains and mancles of the latter, which rattled as she moved, with a sound somewhat suggeszive of bones. When Lady Theobald descended to break- fast, she found him growling over his news- paper, and he glanced at her with a polite eoowl. “ Going to a. funeral ?” he demanded. “ I accompany mv granddaughter to this â€"this entertainment,” her ladyship respond- ed. “ It is scarcely a joyous occasion, to my mind.” “No need to dress yourself like that, if it isn’t," ejaculated Mr. Binnie. “ Why don’t you stay at home, if you don’t want. to go ? Man’s all right, isn’t he? Once knew amen of the name of Burmistene, myself. One of the few decentfellows I’ve met. If I was sure this was the same man, I’d 'go my- self. When I find a fellow who’s neither knave nor fool. I stick to him. Believe I’ll send to find out. Where's Lucia? ” What his opinion of Lucie was, it was dif- ficult to discover. He had an agreeable habit of sharing at her over the top of his paper, and over his dinner. The only time he had made any comment. upon her, was the first time he saw her in the dress she had copied from 00- tavia’s. “ Nice gown that ” he blurted out. “ Didn’t get it here I’ll wag er." ' “ It is an old dress I remodeled, ” answer- ed Lucia, somewhat alarmed. _“ I made it my self. ” - “ Doesn’t look like it ” -he said grufiiy. ‘ ‘ Lucia had touched up another dress. and" was very happy m the prospect of wearing it. at thy gsrdegparty. Mr. DugaltIiWBinuie, who had received an invitation, had as yet aimnbly foreborne to say whether he would aeoepl it or not. He had been out when Mr. Burmietone called, and had not seen him. “ Don’t call on grandmamma until ref-tar Wednesday,’,’ she had said to MLBurmiatone. “ Perhaps she wouldn’t. let me go. She will be very angry. I am sure." “ And you are not afraid ? ” “ No.” she answered. "I am not afraid at all. I shall not b9 afraid again.” ‘ In fact .she had perfectly confounded her ledyship by her demeanor. She bore her fiercest glance without quelling in the least, or making any efiort to evade it ; under her most scathing comments she was composed and unmoved. On the first occasion of my lady’s referring to her plans for her future she received a.’ blow which fairly stunned her. The girl arose from her chair, and looked her straight in the face. unflinchingly. and with a suggestion of hauteur not easy to confront. “ Her dress in becoming. at all events,” privately remarked Miss Lydia. Bumhum, whose tastes had not been consulted about her'own.‘ “ It is she who is becoming,” said her sister. “ It is not the dress so much, though her clothes always have a look. some way She’ s prettier than ever to day, and us enjoy- ing herself. " “ I my. Barold," they had said to him, “ why didn’t you tell us about this? Jolly good fellow you are, to come mooning here for a couple of months and keep 11; all to your- self. ” And then had come Lord Lnnedowne, who in crossing the fawn to shake hands with his boat, had been observed to keep his eye fixed upon one particular point. And in ten minutes, Lady Theobald. Mrs. Burnham, Mr. Baxold, and divers others too numerous to mention, saw him standing at Octavia’s side, evidently with no intention of leaving it. “Octavia is -most happ'y"1o-dny,” an- swered Miss Belinda. “ Her father will reach Slowbridge this awning. She had been “ This," her ladyship had said in sepulch- ml tones, when she recovered her breathâ€"â€" “ this is one of the results of Miss Octavia Bassett." And nothing more had been said on the subjec‘ since. . . 34131312! BASSETT." On readmg thls commumcanon, Miss Bel- inda burst into floods 0‘, delighted tears. “ Dear, dear Martin 1 ’ she wept. “ To think that we should meet again 1 Why did~ n ’t he let us know he was on the way? 'I should have been so anxious that I should not have slept at all. ” Suddenly she approached Miss Belinda, kissed her and disappeared out of the room, as if by magic, not returning for a. quarter of an hour, looking rather soft, and moist and brilliant about the eyes, when she did re- Octavia was a marked figure groupds aft that gardgn partx. She was enjeying herself. Mr. Francis Barold observed it rather gloomily as he stood apart. She was enjoying herself so much that she did not seem to notice that he had avoided her, instead of going up to claim her attention. Half a dozen men were standing about her and making themselves agreeable ; and she was apparently quite equal to the emergencies of the occasion. The young men from Btoadoaks had at once' attached them- selves to her train. 7‘ Burmiitone,” he-said. after having spoken his first words, " who is that tall girl in white 7 ” mNotUlong after this Francis Bar-old found his way to Miss Belinda, who was very busy and rather nervous. “ I beg you will not speak to me of that again," she said. “ I will not listen.” .And turning abqut, ish‘e walkgd putgfr the reply. No one in Slowbridge was in more btilliant spirits than Octavia herself on the morning of the fate. Before breakfast, Miss Belinda. was startled by the arrival of another telegram, which ran as follows : “ Arnved today per Russia. Be with you to. morrow evening. Friend wjgh me. “ “ Another new dress, dear,” remarked Mra.Bumha.m. “ And what a. charming color she has, I declare l She is usually paler. Perhaps we owe this to Lord Lans- downe." " Your niece is evidently enjoying herself,” he remarked. “ Weli,” remarked Octavia, “ I suppose that would have began an advaptagefl‘fi CHAPTER XXIV. THE GARDEN-PARTY. upon the looking forward to his coming with great anxâ€" iety.” _ , “ Ah I ” commented Bsrold. “ Very few people understand Octavia,” said Miss Belinda. “ I’m not sure that I fol‘ low all her moods myself. She is more sfiu- tionate than people fancy. Sheâ€"she has very pretty ways. I am very fond of her. She is not as frivolous as she appears to those 1 who don’t know her well." Barold stood gnawing his moustache and made no reply. He was not very comfort- able. He felt himself ill used by Fate and rather wished he had returned to London from Broadoaks, instead of loitering in Slowbridge. He had amused himself at first, but in time he had been surprised to find his amusement lose something of its zest. He glowered across the lawn at the group under a certain beech tree. and as he did so, Octavia turned her face a little and saw him. She stood waving her fan slowly and smiling at him in a. calm way, which re« minded him very much of the time he had first caught sight of her at Lady Theobald’s high tea. He condescended to saunter over the grass to where she stood. Once there he proceeded to make himself as disagreeable as possible, in a. silent and lofty way. He felt it only due to himself that he should. He did not up- prove at all of the manner in which Lans- down_e kept: by her. , “ It’s Eleuéedly bad form on his part,” he said, mentally. " What does he mean by it ? " , ~ Octavia, on the contrary, did not ask what he meant by it. She chose to seem rather well entertained, and did not notice that she was being trowned down. There was no reason why she should not find Lord Lansdowne entertaining : he was an agreea- ble young fellow, with an inexhaustible fund of good spirits, and no nonsense about him. He was fond of all pleasant novelty, and Octavia was a pleasant novelty. He had been thinking of paying a visit to America, and he asked innumerable questions con- cerning that country, all of which Octavia. an- swered. But she glared at Berold, as he passed, and beckoned to him. “ Where is Lucia ? ” she demanded. “ I saw her with Mr. Burmistone, half an hour ago,” he answered. coldly. “ Have you any message for my mother? I shall return to London to marrowâ€"leaving here oatjy." “ I know half a dozen fellows who have been there.” he said. “ And nhey all enjoyed it tremgndously.” 7 '5 I had not observed it,” answered her ladyship. " And it. is scarcely likely that Mr. Francis Barold would permit his pleasure to be interfered with, even by the son of the Marquis of L3;uderdale." SEe turned quite pale. She had not count- ed upon this at all, and it was extremely in- opportune. A “ Where ?” Be emoulhted. “ I say, Wham name I Don’t deride my youth andignorance, Miss Bass'ett.” “ I 'would Esther try the other, thank you." he laughed. “ It has a. more hilari- ous sound. W111 they despise me at Bloody Gulch, Miss Bussett ? I never killed a. man in guy life.” ' He looked slightly surprised. “ Nothing whatever,” he replied. “ I have regniugd here longer man I intenfled." Then she began to talk about Lord Lans- downs. - t “ I like him ever so much," she said. “ Do you think he will really go to America ? I ‘ilh he wouldâ€"but if he does, I hope it won’t be for a year or soâ€"I mean, until we go back from Europe. Still, it’s rather uncertain when we shall go back. Did I tell you I had persuaded Aunt Belinda to travel with us. She’s horribly frightened, but I mean to make her go. She’ll get over being frightened after a little while.” Suddenly she turned and looked at him. “ Why don’t you say something ‘4’” she asked. “ What’s the matter?" “ If you 36 to Nevada, you must visit the mines at Blgody Gulch,” she saigl. “ You can call it L'Argentvilleif you would rathgr,” shg _rep1ied. Barold turned and walked away, angry. and more melancholy than he could have be- lieved. " It is time I went back to London,” he chose to put-it. “ The place begins to be deuceg'llyiiull.”_ ‘ ’ ‘ “ Mr.- Francis Barold seems rather out of spirits,” said Mrs. Burnham to Lady Theobald. “ Lord Lanadowne interferes with his pleas- ure.” She began to alive the manacles on her rig ht. wrist. He made not the smallest pro- fesuion of reluctance to go. She said, at last: “ It is not necessary for me to say any- thing." She laughed. “ Do you mean because I am saying every- thing myself? Well, I suppose I am. I am â€"awfully happy to day, and can’t help talk- ing. It seems to make the time go.” " What do you want to say to me ?” she asked. “ Let. us go and sit down in one of the arbore. I believe I am a. little tiredâ€"not that I mlnd it, though. I’ve been havmg a. lovely time." her face had lighted up curiouEly. There was a delighted excitement in her eyes, puz- zling him. “.Are you so fond of your father as all that?” She laughed againâ€"a. clear, exultant laugh. “ Yes.” she answered, “ of course I am as fond at him as. all that. It’n quite natural. isn’t it I” She Was almost uncivil to Miss Pilcher. who chanced to join her after he was gone. She had, not the slightest intention of allow. ing her plans to be frustrated, and was only roused to fresh obstinacy by encountering indifference on one side'and rebellion on the other. ' She had not brought Lucia. up under her own eye for nothing. She lmd been disturbed of late, but by no means considered herself baffled. With the assist anoe of Mr. Dugald Binnie. she could cer- tainly .subdue Lucia, though Mr. Dugald Binnie had been of no great help, so far. She would do her duty unflinchingly. In fact, she chose to persuade herself that, if Lucia was brought to a. proper frame of mind there could be no real trouble with Francis Barold. “ Some time,” he answered. “When you are at liberty. I wish to speak to you.” " Do you 7” she said. She seemed a. little unprepared for the re» pressed energy of his manner, which he strove to solver by a. greater amount of coldness than new; . He had resented hot remaining oblivious of his presence when he stood near her, and he had resented her enjoyment of her surround ings, and now, as he led her away, leaving Lord- Lansdowne rather disconsolate, he re- sented‘the fact that she did not seem nervous, or at ail impreleed by his silence. “ SOMEBODY ELSE.” 'But Barold did not make any very ardent search for Lucia. He stopped to watch a game of lawn tennis, in which Octavia. and Lord Lansdowna had joined, and finally for- got Lady Thaebald’a errand altogether. Finally. a. chance of tHe game bfingidg her to him. she turned suddenly and found Bar- old’sgyesfixed _upon her. _ “ wa long hive you been there 7” she asked. “‘Well,” she stud, after thinking amoment, “ the game will soon be ended. I am going through the conservatories with Lord Lana- downe, in course of time; but I dare say he can wait.” - For sbme time, Octavia. did Bot see him. She was playing with great spirit, and Lord Lansdowne was following her delightedly, She went back, and finished her game, apparently enjoying it as much as ever. When it was over, Barold made his way to her. “ What has happened ?” she asked rigid.- “I haven’t observed the same degree of «LIf you will find Lucia, you will oblige CHAPTER XXV. enthusiasm in all the young ladies of my aoglaigtanqe,” he_ returned dry_ly. He thought such rapture tiiéproportionate to £116 cause, 91ml regardeq it gruggingly: They turned into an arbor, and Octavia. sat down and leaned forward on a. rustic table. Then she turned her face up to look at the vines covering the roof: “ It looks rather spidery, doesn’ t it ?” he rall_lgaark_edf “ I __ho_pe i_t i911 ’;_t don't you ?" The light fell bewitohingly on her round little chin and white throat; and a bar of sun light struck on her upturned eyes, and the blonfle rings on her forehead. “ There is nothing I hate more than spi- ders." she said, with alittle shiver, “ unless." seriously, “ it‘s caterpillars‘â€"and caterpillars I loathe." Then she lowered her gaze, and gave her hatâ€"a large, white Rubens, all soft, curling feathers and satin bowsâ€"s. charming tip over her eyes. “ The brim is broad," she said. “ If uny- thing drops, I hope i‘ will drop on it, instead of 911 me: Now, what didryou want_t9 my 7” He had. not sat down, but stood leaning against the rustic wood work. He lwked pale. and was evidently trying'to be éooler than usual. ” Well." she remarked, " I hope it’s an im portgng ope. You look perious enough." _ ., “ I brought you here to ask you a ques tion.” “ It is importantâ€"rather," he reiponded, with a tone of sarcasm. “ You will probably go filmy spot; 1’" 7 “ Thit isn’t exactly a. question," she com- mented. " And it’s not as important to you as to me." . “ I do not think you are expecting the question 1 am going to ask," he said. “1-â€" do not think I expected to ask it myselfâ€" until to day. I do not know whyâ€"-why I should ask it: so awkwardly, and feel -at such a disadvantage. I brought you here to ask youâ€"to marry me.” He paused a moment, annoyed because he found it difficult to go on; annoyed beâ€" cause she waited with such undisturbed serenity. But at length he managed to begin again. 7 “You' dld not expect to ask me to marry yog,” she said. _'_‘ Why glidp’t_you ?” He had scarcely spoken four words before all her airy manner had taken flight, and she had settled herself down to listen. He had noticed this,and had felt it quite natural. When he stopped, she was looking straight into his face. Her eyes were singularly large, and bright, and clear. “ There is another reason why it should be no,” she said. I suppose I may as well tell you of it. I’m engaged to somebody else.” “ non." The first person they saw. when they reached the lawn, was Mr. Dugald Binnie, who had deigned to present himself, and was talking to Mr. Bmmistone. Lucia, and Miss Belinda. “ He has been talking to Miss Octavia Baesett, 111 one of the arbors,“ put in Miss Lydia. Burnham. “ Emily and I passed them a. few minutes ago, and they were so absorbed that they did not see us. There is no know- ing what has happened.” ' It was not at all wha't he had- expected. He did not understand her manner at all. “ Iâ€"must confess,” he said. stifiy, “ that I felt at firsfi that there whereâ€"obstacles in the way of my doing s9.” ” What where the obstacles ?" ' He flushed, and drew himself up. “ I have been unfortunate in my mode of expressing myself,” he said. “ I told you I was conscious of my own awkwardness." “ Yes," she said,'quietly, “ you have been unfortunate. That is a good way of putting it.” The delicate touch of spirit iii her tone and words fired him to fresh admiration, strange to say. It suggested to him possibilities he had not suspected hitherte. He drew nearer to her. “ Dm’t be too severe on me,” he saidâ€" quifie pgmbly, opnqiderixgg all thing-.7 A She did so, but just as she reached the entrance, she turned, and stood for a second. framed in by the swingmg vines and their blossoms. " I’ll go to them,” said Octavia. ” Aunt Belinda. will wonder where I have been." But, before they reached the group, they were intercepted by Lord Lansdowne; and Barold had the pleasure of surrendering his charge, and watching her, with some rather sharp pangs. as she was borne OH to the conservatories. Then she let her eyes rest on themble a. few aeeondq! andf thought a little. “ After all.” she said. “ I have the conso- lation of knowing that. you must have been very much in love with me. If you had not been very much in love with me, you would never have asked me to marry you. You would have considered the obstacles." “ I am very much in love with you,” he said, vehemently. his feelings getting the bet- ter of his pride, for once, “ However badly I may have expressed myself, I am very much in love with you. I have been wretched for deys.’_’ “ 150 you think I don’t know what the ob- staelgg arch?” _she said. " 1 will tell you." “ My afieetion was strong enough to sweep them away,” he said, “ or I should not be here.” She smiled slightly again. “ I know all about them, as well as you do,” she said. ” 1. rather laughed at them, at first. but I don’t now. I suppose I'm im- pressed by their seriousness, as Aunt Belinda says. I suppose they are pretty seriousâ€"to you." “ Then.” he said. “ I need say no more. I see that I haveâ€"«humilitaned myself in vain, and it is rather bitter, I must confess.” “ It weer“ my fault,” she remarked. He stepped back, with a. haughty wave of the hand, signifying that she should pass out of the arbor before him, “ What is the matter with Mr. Barolda?" exclaimed Miss Pilchgr, “ Pray 190k at him.” 1‘ Was it because you felt obliged to ask me to garryyou 7” she inquiredfl , “ Nothing would be so serious to me as that you should let them interfere with my happiness,” he answered, thrown back upon himself, and bewildered by her logical man. ner. “ Let us forget them. I was a. fool to speak as I did. Won‘t you answer my ques- tion ?” She paused a second. and then answered : “ You didn’t expect to ask me to marry you," she said. “ AndI didn’t expect you “- 0h.” she repliea, " ydu havefi’t respected me much I” “ Excuse me â€"” he began, in his loftiest manner. But she draw it back, smiling ever so faintly. “ But now 'â€"â€"-â€"" he broke in, impatiently. “ Nowâ€"I wish you hadn’t done it.” “ You wish ” ' ” You don’t want me," she said. ” You want somebody meekerâ€"somebody who would respect you very much, and obey you. I’m not ujed to obeyingipeople." “ You didn’t respect me enough to think me worth marrying,” she said. “ I was not the kind of girl you would have chosen of your own will.” “ You are treating me unfairly!” he cried. “ You were going to give me a great deal, I supposeâ€"«looking at it in your way,” she went on ; “ but if I wasn’t exactly what you wanted, I had something to give. too. I’m young enough to have a good many years to live, and I should have to live them with you, if I married you. That’s something. you know.” She rose, too-â€"n6t exultant, not confused, neither pale nor flushed. He had never seen her Prettierrl more charming. or more gatgral. _ And he stiétched out His hand, is if to take hers. " Do you main alio _tha.|: you would not respgqt game?” he ~igmyxired, bitterly, He rose from his seat, pale with wrath and woundefl feeling. “ Does this liean that you refuse me." he deganded â€"“ that your newer is no ?", “it would have been 30, even it hadn’t been no obstacle,” she answered CHAPTER XXVI. :30, even if there “ Lydia. !" exclaimed Mrs. Burnham, in ategn reproyf of such flippanqy. But: {heunext moméfit, sfle exchanged a glance with MisaPilcher. “ Do you think â€"” she suggested. “ Is it pqsslble__-â€"_â€" _ Mrs. Bumhem glsinéed toward him, and thenasligut smile illumiated her counte- nance. 7‘ It really looks very like it,” said Miss Pilcher; “ though it is scarcely to be credlted. See how pale and angry he looks.’7’ _ , Naturally, it was not very long before the attention of numerous other ladies was directed to Mr. Francis Batold. It was ob- served that he took no share in the festivitiea, that. he did noi regain his natural air of en- viable indifference to his surroundingsâ€"that he did not approach Octavia Bassett until all was over and she was on the point of going home. What he said to- her than, no one heard. “ How furious,” she remarked, cheerfully, “ hpw fuyioug Lady Theobalq will l_)e._H ” I am going to London to- morrow. Good bye n “ Gaod bye,” she answered. holding out her hand to him. Then she added, quickly, in an undertone: “ You oughtn‘t to think badly of me. You won’t after a While." A5 they drove homeward, she was rather silent, and Miss Belinda remajrked iti “I hm afraid you are tired, Octavia.” she said. “ It is a pity that Martin aheuld come and firndryou tired.”_ “ Oh, I‘m not tired. I was only â€"thinking. It has been Hiqueer dry 1"” “ So it has been,’v'said' Octaviaâ€"fihicl‘l Miss Belinda thought rather ipeonsistpnt. â€"'-The Imperial Council of China have fused to sanction 9. railway through the tetior of the Empire. “A queer daâ€"y, my d'ear I” ejaculated Miss Boliliidar. ‘ “ {thought}; i} charming any?“ “ To think,” said Miss Belinda, “ of my seeing poor Mgrtinfgsiin." . “ Subpose," saidVOrztavia, nervously, as they drew up, “ suppose they are hereâ€" slrquiy I" _,_ â€"â€"The immediate ancestors of Lord Bea- consfield, descended from Spanish and Vene- tian Jews, were lax in their adherence to their ancient faith, and he himself. born in 1804 or 1805, was actually baptized as a Christian in his boyhood. One of his newspaper biogra- phers, and he not of the deceased Earl’s household or political creed, says that he was never ashamed of the race from which he sprang, and that he contended for its political rights even at a period of his career when his personal interests pointed in the opposite di- rection. --Rev. Dr. McKay, of Formosa, who preached at Goderich on the 16th inst., has since been laid up there by illness. and was compelled to cancel all his engagements up to May _1_. ' Both of them grew rather restless as they neared the house. But she got no further. A cry burst from Ootayiaâ€"a quper, 39ft httle _o_ry. And she was out of the carriage, and Miss Belinda, fellowing her closely, was horrified to see hér caught at once in the embrace of a tall, bronxed young man, who, a moment after, drew her into the little parlor, and shut the door. Mr. Martin Bassett, who was big, and aunhurned, and prosperous looking, stood in the 2111858136, gynilipg y‘riumphgnfly. When she was borne away by the train, with her father and husband, and Miss Be- linda, whose bonnet strings were bedewed With tears, the Rev. :Alfred Poppleton was the las‘. man who shook hands with her. He held in his hand a large bouquet. which Octavia herself had given him out of her abundance. “ Slowbridge will miss you, Missâ€"Mrs. Belasys,” he faltered. “ I«I shall miss you. Perhaps we â€"may even meet again. I have thought that, perhaps I should like to go to America.” “ They uré herb 1” she said} “ they are ! Jackâ€"Jack I” And as the train pufied out of the station and disappeared, he stood motionless for sev- eral seconds ; and a. large and brilliant drop of moisture appear& on the calyx of the lily which formed the center-piece of his bou- quet. “‘Mâ€"fiâ€"IMartin"! ” gasfied Miss Belinda. “ What ~01), what does this mean 7’: “ Never mind, Bellnda," he said. “ Don’t be frightened. It’s J aok Belasys, and he’s the finest fellow in the West. And she hasn’t seen him for twp years. ” ' “-Yes. it is,” answ-ered Mr. Bassett ; “ for he’s going to marry her before we go abroad.” Slowbridge had never seen such 3. wedding or such a bride as Octavia. It was even ad- mitted that Jack Belasys was a. singularly handsome fellow, and had a dash ing, adventurous air, which carried all before it. There was a rumor that he owned silver mines himself, and had even done something in diamonds, in Brazil, where he had spent the two last years. At all events, it was ascertained beyond doubt, that being at last a married women, and en- titled to splendors of the kind. Octavia. would not lack them. Her present to Lucia. who was one of her bridesmaids, dazzled all be- holders. Martin Baésett led her to a. seat and smiled morertriumphapty ptil}. h _ It was an eventful day for all parties con- cerned. At its close, Lady Theobald found herself in an utterly bewildered and thunder- etruck condition. And to Mr. Dougald Binnie, more than to any one else, her de- moralization was due. That gentleman got into the carriage, in rathera better humor than usual. “ Martin,” Miss' Belinda, fluttered, “ it is not gropgrfij. really isp’t_.’_’ " Same man I used to know," he remark» ed. “ Glad to see him. Knew him as soon as I set eyes on him.” ” Do you allude to Mr. Burmistone 1’” " Yes. Had a long talk with him. He’s coming to see you to marrow. Told him he might come myself. Appears he‘s taken a, fancy to Lucia. Wants to talk it over. Suits me exactly, and suppose it suit her. Looks as if 11'. does. Glad she hasn’t taken a fancy to some haw-haw fellow, like that. feel Barold. Girls generally do. . Burmistons‘s worth ten of him.” “ I begin to understand now,” she said. “ I find I was mistaken in my impressions of Mr. Dougald Binnie’s tastesâ€"and in my im- pressions of you. You are to marry Mr. Burmistone. My rule is pver. Permit me to congratulate you." The tears rose to Lucia’s eyes. “ Grandmamma,” she said, her voice soft and broken, “ I think I should have been more frank, if-if you had been kinder sometimes.” It was the Rev. Alfred Poppleton who as- sisted the rector of St. James to marry J ack Belasys and Octavia. Bassett ; and it was ob- served that he was almost as pale as his sur- pligs. Lucia who had been looking steadily out of the carriage wmdow. turned with an amazed expression. Lady Theobald had received a shock which made her manacles rattle. She could scarcely support herselt under it. “ Do 1â€"” she said. ” Am I to under- stand that Mr. Francis Barold does not meet with _yom_‘ apgroval ?’_’_‘ _ ” Yes, by George I" he said. “ I’ll have nothing to do with chaps like that. If she’d taken up with him, she’d never have heard from me again. Make sure of that._ ” When they reached Oldclough, her lady- shxp followd Lucia. to her room. She stood before her arranging the manaoles on her wrists, nervously. _ “ I have done my duty by you,” said my lady. Lucia looked at her pathetically. “ I have been ashamed to keep things from you,” she hesitated. “And I have often told myself thatâ€"that it was so sly to do itâ€"but I could not help it." “ I trust,” said my lady, “ that you will be more candid with Mr. Burmistone." Lucia blushed guiltily. " Iâ€"think I shall, grandmamma,” she said. “ They !” exclaimed Miss Belinda. “ Who THE END. 1'9- Cultivation of Sweet Corn. Sweet corn is rapidly becoming a favorite fodder crop as well as a market product. The excessive sweetness of the grain when in an unripe condition, and its succulence and ten- derness make it a desirable article for table use, and it has altogether supplanted the common field corn for this; purpose. It is greatly in demand in towns and villages, and enormous quantities are sold every day in the large cities. It is reported that in the season from 300 to 500 wagon loads, each of 5,000 ears, are daily, or rather nightly, taken by farmers near the city into the markets of New York. Besides this, a large quantity is taken in by the various railroads from more distant places. There is no more profitable corn to be produced wherever a market can be found for the ears, for after the ears are sold at a good price, the stalks left may be used for fodder for cows and horses, and will thus pay allthe cost of the crop. Some of the early varieties are so quickly grown that they will succeed even in a far northern lo- cality, and will easily make two crops where the season is longer. The earliest kind need only 60 days or even less,to become fit for use, and a second crop . may be planted among the hills of the first one so as to get a good start before the first is cut away. There are several varieties of sweet corn. early, medium and late. The earliest are of small growth, some of the stalks reaching to no greater length than 3 or 4 feet, but as these may be planted quite close together, the yield of both ears and fodder very nearly equals that of the large kind. The earliest varieties are the early marblehead, the earliest of all by a week or ten days ; early Minnesota, Narraganset, Crosby’s early and early Gon- cord ; the medium are triumph, Pratt’s early, and Egyptian ; the late are evergreen and mammoth. These will give a succession from July to November if the frost holds off in localities south of New York and Philadel phia, and sufiiciently long in New England and Canada to mature even the latest. Sweet corn requires only a moderately good soil, and a moderate supply of manure or artificial fertilizer. It can easily be grown year after year on the same ground, if care is \taken to free the seed from smut by the common pre- caution of steeping it in brine, or a solution of sulphate of copper. The small kinds may be planted in hills twenty-four inches apart. which will give nearly 11,000 hills to the acre, and as three plants in each hill will produce at least half as many marketable/ ears. the yield is often 18,000 cars per acre. A com- ‘ mon price for the cars is 50 cents per 100 at whblesale, so that the farmer frequently real- ises $80 or $100 per acre for the ears when he has a good market for them. The stalks will average at least 2 pounds to the hill, which will give 11 or 12 tons of most excel- lent fodder‘to the com. No other fodder is so productive of milk or so healthful for cows when pasture is short, as this. The ground may be cleared of the crop, and a second one planted of the same kind, or Hungarian grass or turnips may be sewn, or late cab- bage may be planted on it. Managing Turkeys: _ There is small benefit derived from keeping either too large a number or too great a vari- ety of fowls on a limited space. As spring approaches. the turkeys, ducks and geese, begin to feel and manifest in divers ways the inspiration of the season. This is the period when they require attention, food and care. Turkeys should be kept quiet and tame, and the disposition to ramble governed as' much as possible without resorting to force or con- finement. Turkeys should never be confined unless it be for a few weeks when very young. This disposition to ramble, which comes on about the laying period, may be greatly con- trolled by management and gentleness. They are not apt to like the society of other fowls, but keep largely to themselves. They should be given a run when other fowls are excluded, particularly the water fowls. Turkeys like high ground and dry soil, secluded and dry nooks attract their attention, and they are ex- ceedingly shy at nesting time. Some hens are so particular that if the nest is disturbed or the eggs taken out. even if replaced by others, they forsake it entirely. The better way is to allow the eggs to remain, if their is no danger of frost or prowling vermin. The mother will manage the eggs better, and a larger percentage of them will hatch. When » this is not safe the eggs should be stolen away each day as laid, and inferior or hen’s eggs substituted as each one is taken, keeping the number good. In this manner the hen is more likely to sit. The Empress of Austria came to Paris much disposed to receive no official visit. She isa great, a very great lady in reality. and in her own eyes; very capricious and strong willed in carrying out her fancies and whim-whams. In the German fashion she can leave rank aside and be very charming with people of no rank to speak of, if such is her good pleasure. Capt. Middleton, who is her esquire on the hunting fields of Eng- land and freland, had every reason to know that she is the proudest of the proud. With the circus girl Elise, who was last year the idol of the Parisian Gommeux, her Majesty is almost motherly, and is very companion- able. They smoke cigarettes together and talk gayly on equestrian subjectsâ€"the only subjects which interest the Kaiserin. But Elizabeth holds in foul scorn nouveaux on riches and self made great ladies All her prejudices and what she deems her principles are on the side of feudalism and right divine monarchy, which. by the way. never lived on good terms with the barons of the feudal period. She looksâ€" although Austria is now under a free governmentâ€"upon the English constitutional monarch with pity mingled with contempt, and calls her a rich poultry-yard fowl, who has not wing power to take a high and independent flight. When the French Republic was represented at Vienna by parvenu Ambassadors,the Empress was scarcely civil to their excellencies on the rare occasions on which they had opportuni~‘ ties to approach her. The chief of the French ‘ Executive called on her Majesty at the Hotel Bristol and was received by her. The crowned Clorinda was surrounded by her household. A turkey usually sits 26 days in medium weather, and is a steady incubator, bringing out all the eggs at once. The young should remain on the nest without disturbunoefor the first 24 hours. If a. good mother, she will take care of the empty shells, usually tucking them around out of the way under the tail. When necessity demands she will lead the brood quietly from the nest, and if the weather be warm and without storms, will succeed well in rearing the brood under her own man- agement. Turkeys should not come off until the first week in June. By that time cold storms are over and the air is mild.â€"-0. B., in Country Gentleman. Some young birds will not sit in the first season, but keep up continuous laying. which is not profitable. There is no mother for young turkeys like the natural one. Instinct leads them into their natural belongings, and to seek the food most beneficial. Often one hen will rear two broods in a season, not weaning the older ones until the others are out of the shell. A great mistake that is fre- quently made with turkeys is in keeping too many hens. Two are suflicient for all ordinary purposes, and three at the outside. Where there are too many they are apt to disagree, and wander off in different directions. Thus they form a habit of wandering, which is quite natural. It is an ancient belief that turkeys turn their eggs daily. They do move the eggs about with the feet and beak, but whether it be intentional or not, is not known. The germ in the egg is always uppermost, and in incubation receives the first warmthâ€"a recognized fact that the heat must come from aboveâ€"although with the constant brooding the nest is thoroughly warmed, and retains it until the young leave it. Turkeys should nest on the ground, and indeed any fowl does better to sit on the ground when the weather will admit. The moisture is highly beneficial to the eggs while undergoing the process of incubation, keeping the shells soft and the skin moist, so that the young find no difficulty in escaping. FARM AND GARDEN . WHIMS OF AN EMPRESS. Part of her hair. which is still of a burnished hazel brown shade and splendidly luxuriant, was coiled round her head, and the rest was allowed to {all down behind her. She was dressed in a plain black velvet costume, with a linen collar and an enameledbroooh. Eliza- beth speaks French well, but with a. German accent. The Empress of Austria has little taste for reading. When she is at home she is general- ly very tired and 10113 back in a. deep, soft arm chair, or lies on a sofa. puffing cigarettes. She has an album by her with photos her of horses, her favorite dogs, her grandchild and her children. She hates brilliant assemblies. has no wish to be popular, thinks parliament contemptible, abhors iepublicans and cannot imagine how the world was ever able to get on without steam locomotion. Her traveling train is a. miniature palace. Bohemian glass is much employed in lending color and brightness to the little dining room. The couch in the bedroom is suspended. A small oratory, opening and shunting at will. like a press, testifies to the orthodoxy of her Majesty, who is not, however, a. de- votee. And How the Match Game to be Broken ofl“. “ It was this way,” said Mr. ‘Green. “ My cousm, Nancy Green, had a great strapping baby that she was in the habit of lugging about with her wherever she Went. Possibly Lincoln didn’t have a passion for babies ; at any rate, he was not in love with this one, and I remember very well that when his own son Bob was in the cradle Lincoln used to lie on the floor reading, and let the future Secre- tary of War split his lungs yelling to be can rieti about the house. If Mrs. Lincoln hap- rened to arrive home about this time there was trouble in the family for a few minutes. but no remonstrances or appeals could ever make him a. good nurse. He would read, and, so far as abpearances went, was deal to all the infantile cries that came from his hopeful heirs. When the babies grew up a bit, and know something, they found in their iather a. companion and a friend, but they had to look elsewhere for a. nurse. -â€"“ We remember one evening,” says a writer in the London Spectator, “ an English- men expressing, more forcibly than politely, his abhorrence of the Japanese custom of eating raw fish. in the presence of Mr. Iwe~ kura, the son of the Japanese Minister. and then resident ef Beliol College, Oxford. Expressions of disgust were being fluently uttered, when stkuta interrupted the speak- er: ‘ By the by, what shall we have for sup- per? Wouldn’t you liken few oysters? I don’t eat them myself, butâ€"’ The rest was lost inleughter at the keenness of the repertee.” â€"There was an old miser in Leicester, Who had a. fine daughter named Heicester. He bounced all her beans, Wh yâ€"nobody kheaus; And she blew him up like 8. nor ‘weicester. The old man gazed at her ooliquely, For she usually minded quite miquely; Then remarked that he guessed, As he shifted his vuessed, They had not better come more than wiquelyl “ Well, at the time I mentioned, Lincoln had grown very fond of Mary Owens, and she seemed to take quite a fancy to him. They were together a. good deal, and finally, as was understood, became engaged. One day Mary and Nancy Green were going a. mile or so to a neighbor’s, and Lincoln went with them. As usual, Nancy took the baby and trudged along with it, although it was a. heavy weight for her. Perhaps she expected that Lincoln would offer to shoulder the boy himself for part of the distance, and so relieve her. but if she had such expectations they were not realized, for he put his hands in his pockets and leisurely seuntered by the srde of Mary Owens, wiithout a glance toward the baby. “ Pretty soon Mary became cold and an- swered Lincoln with short and curt sentences. Then she refused to talk to him at all, and by the time the end of the journey was reached she fairly withered him with her glances. Lincoln did not know, or seemed not to know, what the matter womand at last asked an explanation. “ ‘ What’s up, Mary ‘2’ said he.‘ You seem to be m bad humor.’ 4 ‘ Oh, no,‘ she replied, mockingly. ‘ I’m ez purring and. good natured az a. kitten. What. is there to ruffle a body, my grace- ious ! ’ 7 ;‘ ‘ It a something I’ve done, I suppose,’ said Lincoln. “ ‘ No,’ replied Mary, tartly, “ it’s nothing you’ve done. It's what you hnin’z done, and that’s just what’s the matter.’ “ ‘ Well. what is it 7’ said Lincoln. “ ‘ You don’t know, of course,’ responded Mary, disdainfully. “ ‘ N6 ; I’ll be hanged if I do,’ said Lin- The other night a policeman observed a man hanging around the entrance to a. Michigan avenue hall in a queer sort of way, and he asked him if he belonged to the order then in session up stairs. The man replied that he did, and the ofiioerinquired: “ Then why don’t you go up ?" “ Well. I was thinking of it.” “ Haven’t been expelled,have you ‘2” “ Oh, no." “ Aren’t afraid of anybody?” “ No.” “ And you haven’t lost your interest .9" “ I might as well tell you,” said the man, after beating around a while longer. " I went down to Toledo a few days ago, and somehow the story came back here that I was drowned. My lodge thereupon passed resolutions to the effect that I was honest. upright and liberal, and a shining ornament, and that What was its loss was my gain. I wasn’t drowned. as you see, but ’I kind 0’ hate to walk in on ’em and bust those resolutions. I’ve tried it three times, and I can’t get higher up than the fifth stair before I weaken.”~â€"Detroit Free Press. «A loquat tree in full fruit is probably a sight never seen in England before, but “ the phenomenon” is now on View at Richmond. It has a fine crop of fruit, comprising about a. dozen bunches, each bunch being- of eight or ten beautiful berries. “ ‘ Wall, I’ll tell you.’ said Mary. ‘ You’ve walked here for more’n a. mile with usâ€"a great, strong feller like you-and let that woman carry a. baby that weighs nigh on to forty pounds, and never so much as lifted yer finger to help her. That's what ails “ Lincoln turned about with a. laugh and didn’t. appear to think much more of the matter. He treated Mary very nicely, and much as if nothing had been said, but her words, no doubt, made a serious impré’lsion, for from that time their intimacy began to wane, and after a time there wus a. genera. understanding that the engagement was can- celed. There were no more words about the baby, Ibelieve ; but it was the baby after all that broke up the match." soln. coln. " ' 1 just tell you what it is, Abe meoln.’ cried Mary, getting excited, ‘ any man as is fit to be a husband would have oflered to a. car- ried that child when he could see its mother were near about tired to death.’ “ ‘ And I didn’t offer 7’ said Lincoln. “ ‘ No, you didn’t.’ responded Mary. “ ‘ And so I ain’t fit to be a. husband,’ said " ‘ Oh. she didn‘t l And you hadn’t polite- ness enough to offer to help her. but must wait to be asked. “ ‘ Why, I never thought of it,’ returned Lincoln. ‘ I always supposed she would be afraid to let a. fellow like me touch the baby for fear he might break it or something. I’d carry a bushel of ’em for you, Mary.’ “ ‘ Yes, now.’ said Mary, bitterly. " ‘ Any time.’ said Lincoln. ” ‘ If I asked you,’ responded Mary. “ ‘ Well, I reckon you could ask me if you wanted ’em carried,’ retorted Linco‘ln. Lincoln. “ ‘ That‘s just the fact, you hain’t,‘ said Marx. _ ABE LINCOLN'S FIRST LOVE. Why, she never askeé me,’ said Lin- HIS MODESTY.