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So they began their lives together. The old house was transformed. The gladness of». girl’s presence filled it with sweet and wholesome influences. George’s early breakfast wase. pleasant event now that he had Lucy in her fresh cam'bric dress and trime coiled hair m attend him. to pour out his coffee, to have the newspaper ready, to nod 8. bright good-bye from the steps as the horses came round to the door and he drove away to his work. Mrs. March. who was often late for break- fast, declared, laughing, that she was not used to getting up at such unearthly hours ; but Lucy’s simple convent habits clung to her in many things; and, as she was always down stairs and in the garden long before even the Doctor made {his appearance, he was sure of one companion at least to his early meal. Her greatest difliculy, as she sometimes go.in asserted, was in finding civilized young men to help her in carrying out’ her devices. In London, she would add, there were al- ways so many idle young fellows. well- dressed and well-mannered, who were only too glad to dance attendance on an agreeable young matron, with whom they were sure of nice little dinners. or a place in a box. or a seat in a carriage ; but in Barlaston, the It was so natural to the girl to be busy that she was falling by degrees into her old habit of waiting on every one; she was per petually running up and down stairs. and making herself a little smxling slave to her cousin and to Mrs. Ludlow. Certainly Mrs. March was indefatigable in her exertions to render her husband’s home as complete a contrast as possible to what in was before his marriage. 80 George, coming home in the evening, would find quite a large group assembled in his wife’s drawing room. drinking tea. and chatting. and perhaps making a little music. Ada would give him her most comfortable chair and an affectionate smile, and would declare that there'was to be no running away to that dreary study, that he must just stay and hear Minnie’s last pretty ballad. It was delightful, Mex-y Throgmorhon de- clared, to see the Marches together. And Ada made the best linlo wife in the world. But after a. while this seemed to alter. George interfered quieth but with determina- tion. Lucy began to find that she was to be waited on a little now. Batters used to look to her wordrobe for her when she was out. The girl found her dresses brushed and smoothed, or laid out ready at dressing time; the buttons Were always on her boots; all needful mending was carefully attended to. “ Dear George works far, far too hard,” she often said. with a. sigh. " It is my duty to induce him to take a little relaxation now and than." Edward, the Doctor’s own man. was ready at a moment’s notice to go on Miss Lucy’s errands, saving her little feet many a. weary tramp, to fetch her a cab 1n wet weather when she was obliged to go out, to protect her with an umbrella as she got in and when she re. turned. Lucy would blush and protest, hav- ing become unused to such services during her stay in King’s Road ; but Edwards would state in his grave way that he had the Doc tor’s orders, though from his alacrity it was plain that the staid man servant obeyed these orders with satisfaction to himself. The consequence of all this was that Lucy found time to read more and to practice her music, which she had sadly neglected. She found at George liked to hear her sing. and she beg n to hunt up all the songs she knew. She was able to be with Bee 2. great deal more too, which was a. delight to both the girls, and sometimes she went away to Croome for several days at s. time. Mrs. Ackroyd was always begging for her. The quiet little woman declared that she could not “ take to " Mrs. March somehow, much as she liked the Doctor, but the children were always clamouring for Lucy. CHAPTER XLVII. George March walked to church with his w0 mankind and heard Lucy’s voice in the hymns. Edgar Bryer had no need any longer to make pilgrimages to St. Mark’s in order to see his little blue-eyed divinity. It was a pretty family party, people said, and Mrs. March ought ‘0 be a, very happy woman. Indeed, Mrs. March looked as if she were. Naturally she was enjoying the agreeable ex- citement that had followed her return to Burlaaton as a. bride. The Doctor was necessarily a. great deal away from home during the day, and there wee really very little to occupy his young wife’s thoughts in the house so admirably managed by Mrs. Batters, so that Ada was free to amuse herself, and contrived to do so very well for some time by driving about in her pretty pony carriageâ€"«a gift from kind Tom Throgmorton to his wife’s favoriteâ€"and by organiling such parties of pleasure as were possible in the quiet old town. Of course the Doctor joined his wife’s pan has as in duty bound, if only for‘an hour. It was for his sake. as Ada. gently explained to hi “u a'cd her friends, that she exerted herself to mam h Lame pleasant and to bring some bright Influences around him. But the Doctor would not hear of this. He knew that Mr. Olifaunt, the handsomerector. was often at Uroome during Lucy’g visits ; but be resolved that he would carry out what. he had begun, and think only of Lucy’s happmeas. The girl’s delight at returnmg was reward enough, after all. for his unselfishness‘ And indeed the house was not the same with- oun bar. Her old pretty bloom and roundness were reviving rapidly 1n the reels and security of her new life. George had only to look at her. to hear how lightly she flew about the house, to see how bright she looked after her walks, and how easily she broke into 9. laugh, to know that she was happy in those days. A good many entertainments had been given in her honor, at each of which she had worn a new gown from her tasteful trousseau and had excited a good deal of attention. Mrs. Match indeed was i-apidly becoming a small celebrity in Barlaeton. Her appearance at St. Cloud‘s on Sunday was waited for as impatiently as a. new number of “the Young Lady’s Gazette, and every one was talk- ing 01 her delightful little dinnersâ€"every one, except perhaps Mrs. Batters, who at her age was to beexcused for not altogether appreciufing her mietress’s new fangled ways, and who opened her provincial eyes somewhat Widely at the cost of those apparently simple little banquets. People, when they saw Ada’s gray ponies driving abom the stream and a graceful little lady. in a succession of charming toilâ€" a‘tes, passing in and out of the shops or giv- ing orders from her tiny carriage, used to look at; each other and whisper eagerly that that was Mrs. March, and would point out, with never tiring interest, the fact that she was wearing another new bonnet. Whenever the theater was open or there was a. concert at the Town Hall, Mrs. March made up a party and secured a. box ; and what with her own striking dresses and the beauty of her cousin and Mrs. Throgmorton. her box generally attracted as much attention as the play itself or the music. Wherever Bee went young Ackroyd was sure to follow. Jack Throgmorton was still away. He had not returned to Baslsston since the wedding, or he would doubtless have helped to swell the young matron’s train. His mother’s kind face was no longer clouded by the old anxiety on his account George March learned from her than the boy had settled down to work in a London oflice and was behaving with unusual steadiness and moderation It really seemed as if lhe Doctor’s marriage to Miss Ludlow had cleared the atmosphere of the little town in quite a remarkable way. Lucy often said to herself that every one seemed happier for it. “ Who will see to your breakfast, you pour neglected George ‘2” Mrs. March cried. with smiling dismay, when Lucy was first, invited to go to Green Knowe. And Lucy, coloring; declared eagerly that she would just as soon stop at home. A GREAT MISTAKE. “You poor dear George 1” Ads would say when her visitors were gone. “ It is well you have Lucy to look after you a. little. And really I am afraid poor Edgar is rather a hopeless pupil. He seems incapable of sing- ing in tone.” Doctor’s wife prosersted. with a comical little air of dismay. the young men were shut up in oflioes all day long, and, when they came home, seemed to think that there was some- thing immoral or “ French” in making them- selves decently serviceable or amusing to a. married woman. So Mrs. March’s blushing aide de camp began to haunt the house in the square at every moment which was not absorbed by business. It seemed to George that he was always walking over the young fellow’s long legs when he came home of an evening. Ada was teaching Edgar some songs ; and she was so eager for her pupil's progress that often she could spare only a nod and a smile for her husband. and it was Lucy who brought George his slippers and his cup of tea. Ted Ackroyd’s sudden departure from Baru loston, a couple of months afner her retuxn, lefb Mrs March in a. worse case than ever in the matter of masculine escort. She could not help expressing a laughing wish to her cousin that the young man had waited until after Christmas at least to propose to Bee Throgmornon, and to be refused. “ I suppose it will break up the party at Croome,” she added regretfullyâ€"" and I was looking forward to that for several agreeable recruitsâ€"unless, indeed"-â€"with a somewhat cold smile â€"“ Bee intends to relent before then. I suppose she means to marry him eventually ?” “ I don’t know,” answered Lucy sadly. “I think she is unhappy about it. Iam glad he has gone away, poor fellow. It will give her time to think.” The young man was honestly trying to do his duty, and hoping one day to find quiet. and contentment, if not happiness, in the doing of it ; but there was so much that was painful as well as sweet in his new life the! the struggle proved a hard one. almost too hard for his strength ; and he was thankful if at first he succeeded merely in hiding his suffering and in presenting a decent calm to his wife and to the world. Doctor March supposed that it was only natural that Ada should desire to amuse herself. “ Let her be happy in hit own way. poor little soul,” he said to himself. “ It. seems rather an unmeamng way, but I sup pose it is all rightâ€"and I am n6 judge of women’s fapoies.:’: In truth he did not yet dare to speak earn. estly to the woman he had married, nor to attempt to draw her nearer to him. He was waiting until he should be able to do so with a. clearer conscience: until he had subdued all lingering remnants of a feeling which was a wrong now to his wife. Poor Ted’s flight cast a decided depression upon Mrs. March’s hardly kept together little “ party," as she was fond of calling the few young people who had leisure to share her amusements. There was no one who could take the place of the rich, good-looking young man who was wandering about aimlessly half over Europe in the vain endeavor to heal the wound in his faithful aching hearg. Neither Bee nor Lucy could fairly be said to be of Ada’s party. They had their own occupations and interests. which seemed to grow more absorbing every day. Ada laughed at them gently sometimes for their girlish enthusiasm. “ Poor Lucy lf’ she said, smiling. “ You shall not be victimized any longer. I think I shall cultivate Minnie Bryer ; she is not too strong minded to care for pretty things, and she has a. ‘brother who might be made useful with a little training. At present he is deâ€" voured by mauvaiee honte ; but, if he can be cured of his tendency to blush whenever he meets us, I think I shall appomt him, faute de mieux. my side de-camp, vice Ted Ackroyd, absent without leave." “ It looks well for dear Minnie’a sake,” she said to her husband, who had wondered rather soomfully what Ada. could find in such a cub. “ And poor Edgar is useful, if not ornamental." ‘ “ What you are trying to do,” she said, not unkindly, “ is being better done all round you by properly organized societies. Why. don’t you send your babies to Janet Bryer’s creche, and your cooking and sewing girl to Mrs. Ackroyd’s industrial schools ? ” They attended one or two meetings in the school rooms near St. Chad’s. A great many ladies were there. Janet read aloud a long report, and, when the talking became too loud, rapped on the floor with her umbrella, and crled sharply. “ Ladies, will yuu‘please come to order for a. minutel" Votes of thanks or expressions of regret at the absence of one or two popular members were proposed and secondol, and the girls came home, feel- ing very warm and tired and amused. “ What do you want poor Edgar Bryer for 2’" Lucy asked, opening her blue eyes in sobeg gurpriae. " Oh. ‘0 run messages. and buy tickets, and turn over my music! What does one ever want a. man for? As dear George is too busy to go about with his poor little wife, I must. only supply the deficiency as well an Ican I” Accordingly the Doctor's wife and she younger Miss Bryer became very intimate in a surprisingly short time. They fell into a way of dressing 3 good deal alikeâ€"Ada. had great tsaste and skill in millinery matters, and contrived to produce a. great efieut at; small expense~aud always in advance of themode, thanks to their diligent perusal of the Paris fashion book, for which Mrs. March subu scribed. They spent their mornings together very often, while George was on his rounds and Lucy reading to Mrs. Ludlow upstairs ; and, after luncheon, when the pony carriage drove up to the'door, they went out very gay and Binding to display the result of their indusnry and to execute a great many small purchases in the principalstreets. The drive generally ended by atum through the less ornamental thoroughfares by which the Bariaeton young men came home from business. Edgar Bryer was among the very first to appear always, and Mrs. March fell into a habit of picking him up and driving him with his sister hack to Beaudesert gar- dens for tea. and a little duet singing before the young people went home to dinner. Bee and Lucy were a. little crushed by this at first,and thought it only fair to consider thgmatter cagefylly. They told George afterwards that they would rather keep on in the old way. feeling that. their efforts reached a few of those who would have been scared away by the rules and regulations of the societies. Something of thisâ€"Adi extracted 1mm her cousin before long, and the confession was receiyed with perfect; good pumqy, Minnie Bryer was by no means loath to take Lucy’s place in the pony carriage and elsewhere. Her life was as uneventful as that of most girls in a quiet provincial town ; and, her sister Janet having become more de- cidedly serious than ever since Doctor March‘l marriage,the poor little country belle was left a good deal to her own resources. Mrs. Bryer fell: mat it was a very good thing for Minme to have the opportunity of going about with the fashionable Mrs. March, and of making the most of her youth and good looks. “ We have no lists of contributions to print an& nothing to talk about : so we have more time and money to spare for actual work,” they decided ; and so they went their way, busy and happy together. Luck~ felt bound to accompany her cousin when Ada. wished it ; but she found the per- petual shopping and driving about the streets so monotonous, and it seemed to her such an utter waste of time, that all her good nature and politeness failed to conceal the fact. “ If we might; go outinto the country roads and lanes.” she sometimes said in confi- dence to Bee, “ I should like it very much ; but to spend two or three hours of each day buying a yard of ribbon seems so stupid I And people stare at us so 1 I wonder if they are as sick of seeing our faces as I am sick of seeing theirs ! I believeI know every soul in Barlaston by sight.” 'She continued however to make something He had begun to believe at last that Lucy had never cared for him. The girl‘s sweet and cheerful directness with him, her renewed life and courage and color-all seemed to say that he had been mistaken. that she had sacrificed nothing in giving him w another The Doctor smiled down at the gentle face uplifted to his, and told her that he was only too glad to see her happy. He had his own work to do ; and had not much time for fretting or thinking. But, if he had had, he would have told himself in those days that he was not unhappyâ€"not altogether sorry for the irrevocable siep he had taken. “Except to be happy, dear George,” she added. “ You don’n think me very frivolous for enjoying the first few months of our married life in my own way? Remember what two and years I spent before.” ” Poor Ada!” George answered with a kind smile. ” You must try to find some Work for yourself. There is never very much going on in a provincial town; and. if we were to made amusement our only' aim, I am afraid we should all feel the days too long." lids. took the little sermon quite good~ temperedly, and declared that Lucy and Bee had left her nqthipg to do. of a pet of the blushing boy, laughing kindly at his persistent devotion. and reading him the most charming elder sisterly lectures it times about his waste of time and neglect of higjaniily. The lectures did not appear to be product~ ivo of much effect. Edgar appeared only the more detexmined to persevere in his visits, in finding excuses for which he displayed con- siderable ingenulty. CHAPTER XLVIII. Quite a. happy little lull fell upon thehouse hold at number nine after the dismissal ‘ of Edgar Bryer. It seemed so at least to the Doctor, though Ada frankly confessed with a pretty yawn that the days in Barlaston seemed twice as long as the days everywhere else. On one or two uccasions, when Mrs. March happened to be from home when he called, he worried poor Lucy by insisting shyly on waiting for her cousin rather than disappoint Minnie of the embroidery pattern for which she had sent him. “ He is dreadfully stupid, Ada. ! ” Lucy complained. He never says a. word, but Bits and stares at you as if he were moonstmck l” “ Oh, but that is because you don’t under stand how to talk to him! ” declared Ada, smiling. “Edgar is quite agreeable, really, to those who understand him.” On a second and third repetition of this complaint from Lucy however, Mrs. March felt that it was time to scold her protege again and more seriously. Ha was evidently be- coming reckless. “ Of course I will, you stupid boyâ€"all in good time I" Mrs. March was getting towards the door with her awkward young visitor ; and she laughed a little impatiently as he caught her hand in both of his. “ There, thereâ€"you had better go now I I am sure I don‘t know what your mother would say to all this. I will writeâ€"I Will sound Lucy and write to you. But pray go now, or dear George may come in I It would never do to tell him just yet. You must leave it all to me.” She made an appointment with him one evening. No one else was admitted, not even Minnie, to whom her friend had complained that morning of headache. “ Poor boy,“ murmured his friend, looking up with her large calm eyes. " Not if I asked you 'tp do go furimyraake ?” “But why should you?” he persisted. eager and scammering. “Ihave never said a. wordâ€"I never will,until you give me leave!" “ Yes ; but you are going to undo it all, sir, if you persist in teasing poor Lucy with such long visits 1 It; was to tell you so that I asked you to-came this evening when I was alone “ He was getting quite too tiresome I” Ada. demured to her husband when he remarked nhe lad’s sudden disappearance. “ I was obliged to send him away !” Edgar found her sitting in alow chair holding a scieeu before her face in a. hand that sparkled with rings, and with her small high-heeled shoes daintly posed on the fender stool. “Eddie,” protested Ada softly, “I really must not listen to this.” “I know the Doctor thinks I am a bit of a fool," Edgar went on impetuously. now that that the ice was broken -“ and of course I am young yet, and earn only ninety pounds a year, ; but I'd wait as long as ever he wished; and, if I only thought I was Working for Lucy, 1 know I should get onâ€"you’d see Mrs. March.” “ You think sheâ€"she does not care for me ?” cried the boy in an agony. “ 011. Mrs. March, if you would only say a good word for After that day young Bryer was seldom seen in Beaudesert Gardens or behind Mrs. March’s yretty ponies. The. weather was growing chilly, and in Mrs. March’s pretty drawing-room a bright fire was burning,which flickered picturesquer among the gold frames and the blue and White china on the walls. Ada. had put on a pretty velvet gown and fastened some roses in her belt. “ Of course I don’t pretend to dislike devo- tion on the part of my aide-de~camp ; but”â€" smiling pretnilyâ€"“ that distinguished ofi‘icer, whoever he may on for the nonce, must temper his devotion with discretion. Now what. is this I hear about your sitting out poor Lucy’s patience the other day when I was in Upper Brunswick sireet ‘2” The boy turned very red again. “You know. Eddie, that will not do; and I am going to impose a little punishment, because it is not your first offense. We shall have people talking ; and I think you must promise me not to come here quite so often.” “ Oh, Mrs. March "â€"the boy started’up from his stool, looming big and ruddy nbova her little flaxen headâ€"“ don’t say that! I don‘t believe Icould keep away now if I firied!” There was a little pause ; then Mrs. March rose too, pushing away the footatool with a gentle movement of the foot. “ You foolish boy.” she said. smiling‘ course I found out. your secret long ago you can judge for yourself whether I been on your side or not.” “ Oh, you have been awfully good, March 1 I have been in love with her so long, and but for you I might never met her to speak to.” A charming Bisterly note had warned him in playful terms to absent himself for a while from the house in the square, where accord~ ingly George was no longer compelled to listen to his singing of “ Speak to me," or “ A Te” every evening. “ I am so glad you have come! ” she said, giving him the little glitnering hand and a pretty smile. “ Come and sit down here by me. Yes, you may have the stool if you like. Perhaps such a, humble position may reduce you to a properly submissive frame of mind and compel you to look up to me. Do you know that I am going to scold you Eddie? ” “ Oh, you may call me Ada still 1” said the young matron gently. “ All my friends do ; and I hope you and I are going to re main very good friends in spite of what I am going to say.” As she spoke she laid a. caressing hand for a. moment on the boy’s dark curly hair. “ You promise me that ; do you not 7" “ and I intend to be frank. I have always thought, Eddie, that you at least did not misunderstand me and my poor abused little London wave, and that I was therefore justi- fied in admitting you to the intimacy which has been so pleasant to us both ; has it not 7 But I am beginning to think I was mis- taken." “ No ; I give you my word, Mrs. March I” protegged the bps: eagerly. “ Frankness is always best," Mrs. March wem‘ogz with» just_ at shade 70f hesitation ; “ Oh. Mrs. March! ” Poor Edgar fidgeted on his stool, which was rather a precarious seat for a person of hm robust proportions, and turned very red. 7 Edgar nodded. He felt decidedly ill at ease. u and have Bdrm ever have _ Those few weeks were the most brilliant of Ada’s married life so far. This was followed by other entertainments in town, by a dinner in Upper Brunswick street, a dance at Mrs. Bryer‘a, and by one of Mrs. March’s dainty and exclusive little ban- quets in Beaudesert Gardens. Mr. Aokroyd urged this point strenuously on his wife’s attention, whereupon, though she secretly considered it heartless on her husband’s part to desire to make merry in her poor boy’s absence, 9. dinner party was given, which enabled Captain Sugden and his friends to renew their acquaintance with the charming girls they remembered with so much enthusiasm. There was no denying that the even- ings were terribly slow ; the men were balked of the pretty faces they had expected and the most highly spiced smoking room stories proved an unsatisfactory substitute for the pleasant little flirtatious they had been looking forward to at the close of their day’s work. Mr. Aekroyd handed his guests over to the keepers every morning, and provided liberally for their comfort. Mrs. Ackroyd gave them a. capital dinner in the evening. vanishing herself as soon as she decently could to her nursery, and not appearing again that night. But a very different state of things reigned now in the old Queen Anne house. Poor Ted was still away, and no party had been brought together to meet them. The young men remembered very pleas- antly their visit of the year before, and were by no means averse to shooting Mr. Aokroyds caverns again, or to meeting “ that very hand- some Miss Throgmorton’ who had snubbed them all so unmercifully, or “ that awfully pretty Miss Thrale" whose illness had put an and to the tableaux. woman, that, had he been free Bgm'n, she would have been no nearer to him, but far- therâ€"much farther away. And. feeling this, George began to admit to himself that it was better to have Lucy for his friend and sister than to have let her go out of his life alto- gether, and to be ashamed of the lingering emotion which, in spite of better resolves, .the girl’s presence or voice still stirred within him. Such emotion was a wrong done to Lucy, he knew, and was a. breach of the brotherly faith and devotion he had pledged to her on that last sad day by the mere. Trusting to him entirely in her innocent security, the poor child had come into his house. and it was his duty to make that house her safest refuge. An agreeable diversion as it seemed to the doctor’s wife, occurred just then in the arri- val at Croome of Captain Sugden and one or nwo of his friends. Mrs Ackroyd had wanted to put them off. being in no mood to enteb taiu strangers; but; her husband. who had been much relieved by Bee’s refusal of his son, was still cherishing plans for Ted’s ad‘ vaneement. and lied insisted on receiving Lady Sarah Vsnneck’s cousin and his friends. “ What was the matter with me?” she thought, breaking into an uneasy little laugh. “ I must go down again. George will think I am crazy to run away from_h1m like that.” The poor fellow tried hard to make a friend of his mfeâ€"tried to enter into her amusements, to talk to her in the long light evenings while they were alone and Lucy was watering her flowers in the cool of the day-â€" vied to interest her in his plans, to busy her by degrees among his poor patients, to find in her a rational companion for his hours of rest. She went and knelt down by the window. The tops of the tall trees were rustling tran- quilly in the dark; the windows opposite were lighted up here and there; a dog was barking far off ; the sound of Ada’s singing came floating up from below. It was all very still and sweet, and before very long the night air calmed the tremor in Lucy’s veins. George knew nothing of this while he was accusing himself of wronging Lucy with his useless regrets. It was the girl’s sweet frank. ness and courage with him which touched him deepgst. When the chilly evenings set in, there was no longer any white slim shape to flit along under the ivy wall and disturb him ffom his books and letters. He sat with drawn down blinds and lighted lamp then ; and, for all his courage, he found it prudent even yet to spend a good deal of his leisure time alone with his pipe. Lucy answered somewhat incoherently, and ran back into the hell, shutting the door hastily behind her. She was trembling from head to foot as she leant against the old pen elled wall ; her heart was beating In great painful throba. The same feeling had odme upon herâ€"only a. hundred times stron ger a as when she had first seen George carve and had eaten of his breed at the same table with him. She blushed. and pressed her hands over her eyes; her cheeks were burning; a. great rush of passionate pity and nameless yearn- ing came over her. Then she heard the hen- die of the study door rattle behind her ; and she flew breathlessly up stairs, not into the lamp lit drawing room, but higher still into her own 0001 and silent chamber, lighted only by the midsummer stars that were glimmering whitely beyond the wide open sash. * “ She thinksâ€"Heaven bless her !-â€"-â€"that here is some magic) in the words of the mar - riage service, and that, when people utter them, they blot out everything that has gone before.” The poor fellew spoke 'with a. bitter Bade neas; but; be resolved that Lucy should never be undecegvedAiEpe ooulgl help it, He turned us she entered, throwing down the newspaper, and springing up with a kind, haggard smile. She had never before seen Doctor March out of the regulation garb which he wore in common with other men in his hours of bus inees or in society, and the sight of the old grey coat and shabby slippers thrilled her with a. quite indescribable emotion. Ada behaved charmingly~listened with pretty sympathy as she sat at work in afresh and tasteful toilette ;0 but she did not say very much. George could not always be sure that she had heard what he was saying. Sometimes he thought he saw her stifling a yawn, and then he wouldjump up and ask for some music, and, having listened duti- fully in his turn for a while, he would take himself off to his tobacco scented study and his old shooting jacket aod slipgers. It was a night or two after the bride’s re- turn, and Ada. had sent her cousin to call the Doctor out of his den.. The room was full of smoke when Lucy entered in obedience to a deep “ come in.” "and the young man, in his comfortable old coat and slippers, was reading a, newspaper. with on leg thrown over the arm of his chau‘. ‘7â€"00me in, Lucy,” he said, holding out his hand. “ Do you dislike the smell at my pigs ‘2" Mrs. March had playfully insisted on her husband's dressing for dinner every day. George laughed, and pronounced it absurb for people In their position, but he gave in, as he did when poselble to all his Wife’s wishes, and went through the httle oeremony, no matter how tired or out of sorts he should be. But in 'his study, a sombre book lined room opening upon the garden, he was free to pull ofi his white tie and fling aside his dress coat, and to sis with his heels on the window sill if he chose, smoking and dreaming, and watching the daylight fade above the ivied walls. ' Sometimes he could hear her singing the tunes he liked overhead. or perhaps she would knock at the door and ask him to come up- stairs for some tea. He did not know how frightened Lucy had been the first time she did thisâ€"she never angel-stood Why herself. Sometimes Lucy was stillamong the goose berry bushes and the roses, and he could see her standing with her pretty bronze head against the dying light, while the pigeons went whirring over the stable yard to roast, and the rustling 01d elm trees grow darker and darker in the dusk. She would come along between the box borders, carrying her watering pot, and holding her muslin skirt aside, quite unconscious of the heavy eyes that were watching her behind the wire blinds of the study. “ I had hard work to make her play,” an- swered the fond mother sadly. “ Ever since poor Ted went away she has not been herself at all. I dare say she is sorry for himI though she cannotâ€"-â€"” “ Oh, Bee will bring Mr. Ackroyd back again!”said Mrs. March somewhat coldly. “ Oh, don’t praise me too much. pray I” returned Ada. smiling. “ I am afraid I ma: gettinga little tired of Captain Sugden, and it is quite Bee’s turn to amuse him." “ fknew you would say so!” cried Mary Throgmotton, immensely relieved. "You are a deaf: sqnaiple. good girl 1" “ And really, my love,” added the kind woman, with something of a blush, “it is as well perhaps that the young men should not come here quite so often. You know we country folk will talk. and the Doctor is so much away. You don‘t mind my reminding you, Ada.) _do you?" ' “ Mind I" repeated Ada gently. “I am very mach obllged to you, dear Mrs‘ Throg morton. I have not any great horror of the Barlaston opinion myself ; but for dear George’s sakeâ€"â€"" Next evening. though Mrs. March and Miss Minnie were in readiness as usual to receive Captain Sndgen and his friends, not one of these gentlemen put in an appearance at Beaudesert Gardens. From Mrs. Throgmor- ton, who came in to luncheon on the follow- ing morning. Ads learnt that the trnsnts had spent the afternoon in Upper Brunswick Street listening to Bee’s music. With a nod and a smile Lucy ran up stairs to change her dress. George stood and looked after her, eighing. Then he too went away. The little blue chair still stood by his study fire; but he would not look at it, and went straight to the window, folding his arms and staring out at the chill and evening. Autumn leaves were falling slowly on the window sill. He could hear Minnie singing a. noisy song up stairs. “Oh, yes ! She was so delighted with Ruth Pinch’s beefsteak pudding that I told her all about mine, and how young Aokroyd ate it. I have felt grateful to him ever since l”â€"break- ing into a. bright laugh. “ Then she wanted me to tell her Whether John married Ruth in the end or not; but I would not. No doubt she will make the story up after her own taste. poor thing, While she lies awake in the night i" The weather happened to be wet and dis- mal. and the atmosphere of the old house at Green Knowe was correspondingly depressing. Mrs. March’s drawing room appeared to the bored sportsmen a sort of oasis in the social desert ; and Lucy’s blue eyes shone brightly through the mists and showers of the coun- try roads, luring them half unconsciously from turnip fields and follows to still more seductive game in town. All the afternoon there was a little bustle about the door of number nine. The T-cart from Grooms! would come dashing up crowded with well dressed men ; the old door resounded with vigerous knocks ; and now the Doctor found the scenes repeated which had excited hie scorn in Edgar Bryer’s reign, only with more long legs to walk over when he entered his wife‘s drawing-room. He tried not to remember too keenly the contrast between this slender shape and earnest face, still lit up and quivering with the remembrance of the scenes the girl had come from. and the little flaxen haired women in the dressing gown, though one swift flame of unavailing anger against his destiny did leap up within his breast in spite of him. Poor fellow, it was hard to be living in sight of the heaven he had lost. “0h,Iam tired and rested too," Lucy answered, smiling. “When I come home. George,Idon't know whether to be most happy or and. The fires and theflowere. and Ada. singing to us, and the dinner waitingâ€" it is all so dear to me and so comfortable. And the poor girls I have been to see seem to have bodies only to feel hunger and pain with. It. is terrible, George. And the poor thing: have no thoughts in their heads. They have never read books or seen any- thing but poverty and ignorance. What can they do but ache and wait and be patient!" " Well; you have given poor Eliza. some~ thing to think of to-day,” said the young man gently. Never had that drawing room been more temptingly arranged, never had Mrs. March worked harder in the construction of pretty toilettes for her daily kettledmm. Poor panting Minnie Btyer toiled after her in vain. She had not the young matron’s resources for such a. lengthy campaign. “ Go and rest: a while," he said kindly, as Lucy and he stood for a few moments togeth- er. “ You look tired, child.” Mrs. March, hearing from Barry Sugden that it was now quite good form in country houses for those ladies who had wslkea with the guns to appear at afternoon tea. in fanciful wrappers and caps, had such a. costume pre~ pared at once, and received her guests next evening in a glorified dressing gown of white cashmere, and a ooquettish little cap to cor- resgond. Her modesty charmed the young men. Barry Sugden sighed when the door closed behind the pretty girl. ' George gon up too and went away to his study. Lucy was stand- ing on the great old fashioned landing as he went down stairs. She was talking to Mrs. Batters about jelly and broth for her sick people. She turned and smiled gravely at the young man as he passed. The young men declared with one voice thatit was tremendously becoming. Mrs. March had unbound her long flexen hair, which fell below her waist. As she lay on the sofa she displayed the prettiest little white sligperi imaginable. “» Thank you,” she said, laughing and blushing, as she partied these attentions. “ I have had tea with Beeâ€"with Miss Throgmor» tonâ€"and I must go upstairs now to aunt Letitia." “ Have you been hard at work," he asked kindly; and he proceeded to ask some questions about one or two of his patients to whom Lucy had been reading that afternoon. The Doctor. however, who happened to come home a. little earlier than usual that evening, looked decidedly grave as the vision met his eye of his wife in this careless at- tire, lounging among her pillows before what he mentally termed “ aroomful of young asses.” To poor George, coming in, lured and hun- gry. out of the chill clear air of the October evening, the atmosphere of his wife’s drawing room, the odor of tea. and perfumes was un- bearable. It was her day at the hospital with Bee. The girl was looking as fresh and clean as u daisy ,in her simple dark gown. the close- fitting lines of which displayed the charming slimness of her figure, and the sombre color of which contrasted prettin with the bronze of her hair and the gloomy whiteness of her complexion. All the young men were very eager to hand Miss Thrale her cup of tea. She might have had half a. dozen shoes of bread and butter at once if she wished. “ Have you a. headache, Ada 7" he said, going over to kiss her with much sim- plicity on the forehead. -‘ No wonder. if you have been stifling in this air all day! Why don’t you open these windows and get rid of half these flowers ?” And in a. lower voice he added, " Don’t you think you had better deny yourself to visitors another day when you don’t feel equal to the exertion of dressing ?” “ You (lent stupid George 1” his wife ex claimed gaily, but flushing a little under his steady eyes' and assuming a less easy atti- tude. “ I am charmingly dressed 1 This is the fashion now for afternoon tea, dear. Ask Captain Sugden !" The room was very warm and fragrant, the light was pleasantly subdued. Minnie was singing one of her ballads. which came to an untimely end with a. little crash and a little scream as George entered. “ I would not using before Doctor March for the whole world,” she declared, showing heidimples: But Captain Sugden had started up to speak to Lucy,who at that moment came into the room. pulling off her bonnet and gloves, having just got home. The girl noticed with terror the slow creep- ing of some deeper discontent in Ada's mind. It seemed that Mrs. March found her tram quil, comfortable home and her long idle days more depressing than ever now that the trenscient excitement caused by the young In alittle while Mrs. ,Aekroyd‘s visitors were gone, and Lucy was back again in the square. Mr. Olifauut sighed when he said gogd-bye. “ Oh, yes i" Ada said prettily. “ My hus- band’s talents are of quite too high an order to remain buried for life in the country.” Lady Sarah was silent. “How blind men arel" she was thinking. as she looked from Adu‘s here shoulders to Lucy’s sweet girlish face. “Why did not that good fellow marry that charming, earnest little creature who would have been a help to him in life, and would have understood him and his aims ?” “ Yes,” Ada returned smiling. “ It is very pleasant of course for a. while but I confess I rather look forward to settling in London again some day.” "‘ That is Do'otor March's intention ?" asked Lady Sarathurpx-iaed. “How happy you must be 1” Lady Sarah said to Mrs, March. “ I remember your husband with so much pleasure. And it is delightful, is it not, to be done for good with that drea lful London grind ?” The Doctor had not come with his wife: He had not time, he explained somewhs. ourtly, when his wife came down stairs in her pretty white wraps, surprised to see that he was not dressed. And so he dined by himself once more. and sat and smoked his pipe afterwards ssdly enough in his study. He did did not dare to go and meet Lucy Thrale In Grooms. The young men seemed to have renounced their London faith, one of whose chief articles was that girls were a bore, and only married women worthy of the least attention. Ada, with her exquisite French looking dress falling off her white shoulders, with her prestige as a bride and gentle audacity of manner, found herseli almost as much alone at Oroome as she had been at home, while Lucy and Bee were surrounded all the evening by a little crowd of chattering adorers. “You must not fret about that. dear; Mrs Thrognorton.” “ I try not to fret, my love.” said poor kind Mary. “ But what with Bee’s low spirits and poor J uok aweyâ€"-â€"Well. well"â€"â€"she bright ened resolutelyâ€"“ I won’t complain. The poor boy 13 getting on very well and behav- ing very steadily. We must only hope for the best. If. ia a comfort to know that you and georgo ere happy, at any pate.” Then Barry came fidgeting about them ; and Lady Sarah, with a good natured laugh, gave Bee up, and went and sat down by Mrs. March. Who was looking a. little neglected. “Dearv Mrs. ,T-lifogmortén!" murmured Ad}! gratefullyrequeeziug rhte frieqd’a hanq. She was anxious to get beck to her work and to change the bows on her gown for the afternoon. No one saw the new bows but her husband. Mrs. March and Minnie drank their tea alone again, and Lucy mentioned at dinner that Bee had taken a. long ride that afternoon with Captain Sugden to St. George's Park, and that she herself had been asked to go with Mrs Throgmorton in the carriage. “My dear. you must tell him to come back," the lady said. laying a. gentle finger on the girl's crimson cheek. “ Happy as I am. it would make me happier to know that he was at home and had something to hope for." Barry Sugden hed openly admitted that he could not stand “ that Bryer girl " any longer. and that he for one was not going to annoy that fine fellow March by kicking his heels all day leng in the little woman's drawing-room â€"e burst of heroism which might have been received with less derisive shouts by little Berry’s audience in the smoking room if he had not been so palpably herd hit by Bee Throgmorton’s dark beauty, and if they had not all discovered that the surest place to meet “ that sweet little Threle ” was not in at cousin‘s house, but in Upper Brunswick treat. Bee echoed this wish very heartily. She blushed guiltin when kind Lady Sarah asked for news for poor old Ted, seeming all the while to read with her shrewd gray eyes the whole story of his wanderings. CHAPTER XLIX. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Throgmotten and her daughter went out to Grooms to spend a week; and then Mrs. Aekroyd came to Beaude- sert Gardens and begged for Lucy as Well. She declared that Captain Sugden was bother- ing her life out about the two girls : so she had invited a few more people. and had made up quite a pleasant impromptu party. Even Lady Sarah Vanneek had promised to come for a day on her way to the North. Lucy felt that she ought not to go. She fancied that Ada was feeling a little depressed, and thought it natural that her cousin should miss the society of her London friends, who were hardly ever seen now in the flower scented drawing‘ room“ in the square. She could always find a great deal to do to her dresses, altering and revising. and planning new effects for the coming winter. And now there was every probability of a dinner at Ctoome when Lady Sarah arrived, and perhaps a wait of a day or two as well. “ Every artist requires an audience,” she had once said to her mother and Lucy. “ It is of no use dressing prettin for dear George. I believe he thinks Lucy's gray. gowns and linen collars the perfection of good taste.” Lady Sarah had arrived, looking much brighter and less tired than of old. though her Rogue were jpst as passe}; giver.» Barry Sugden had confided to Miss Throg~ morton the news that his cousin was about to be married to her first love, a widower with three little boys, who had come back from India 9. good deal atouser and richer than when the Earl had sent him away ten years before. “If he thinks of them at 1111’.” Lucy had angwerqd, laughing. “ Lady Sarah is the best soul in the world,” the sprightly little soldier added; “ and I am awfully glad she is going to be made happy at last."A “ They seem rather stupld to me." the girl sand to herself. “ But'Adu has known them a. long time, and I suppose they have all sorts of things to talk about that interest her.” But George was conscious of an efiort under her smiles, and by degrees it came to seem kindest on his part to spsnd his after dinner hours, when he was at home, in his own room, or to stay out and play a. game of bil- liards while Ada amused herself with her millinery. - The dihnervparti came off duly. and Mrs. March’s toilette was certainly the most strik- ing 1n the room. The house in the square seemed strangely dull when she was gone. Mrs. March was looking delicate, and her depression seemed to be growing deeper. Her friendship with Minnie Bryer having cooled a good deal, and Mrs. Throgmorton being away. time hung heavy on the young wife's hands. Her silent, well regulated house, with only her mother’s somewhat monotonous society. seemed to oppress and stifle her, though she always kept a. smiling face for her husband on his return, and endeavored to prevent his feeling the change that Lucy’s absence pro- duced in many little things. Lucy ventured timidly to suggest this to Mrs. Ackroyd, and to explain what an enjoy» ment such a visit would be to Ada. “ My dear, Mrs. March’s place is with her husband,” said the quiet little woman sturdily. “ And I should think nothing would induce her to leave the Doctor alone. But- you girls have a right to all the dancing and fun that comes along, so make the most of your time. Mr. Olifaunt has been asking after your again !” There was no difficulty now as to ways and means. Lucy had an ample store of pretty morning dresses and walking costumes, and fresh white muslin gowns for the evening) And it certainly was a. temptation to spend a whole week with Bee and the children and the kind admiring young men who were so anxious to improve her knowledge of lawn tennis. â€"It will be interesting to the ladies to know that in many English journals the gen- tlemen have a column alloted to them for their fashion notee. And one of these asserts that “ the prevailing toilet for gentlemen is plain white sutah, a. large pheasantic flowing cravat, a Prince of Wales 50“ hat and a white umbrella lined with green silk." By the side of this the ladies' gorgeousness is nowhere. â€"“ Mother, I am at the door,” is the title of a. new ballad. It is to be hoped that the old lady will hurry down stairs and let him in, or a. watchful ‘~ copper” will have him in the station house. Later her fidelity was rewarded. The lover of her girlhood has returned from Cali- fornia, bronzed, bearded, and a 111illionajres,1 with 9. wife and twins. , ‘7"-v. A beautiful young girl became engaged to a gallant Union ofiicer. At the close of the war he went to California to seek his fortune. She ignored all advances from scores of suit- ors, and patiently awaited his return, feeling confidence in his keeping true to her. So the years passed, an I even a few gray hairs began to show themselves among her brown tressea, while her friends no longer pitied but; ridi- culed her for refusing all advances from other desirable sources. From the Evening Wisconsin. A touching story of tender love comes to us from a tow_n not many miles from this plgoe. “ As I was sitting down picking huoklebeh riesâ€"I had a little black dog with meâ€"I heard the dog barking furiously. I thought that somebody was plaguing him ; he is a dog that don't like to be plagued. I thought that I would get up and go and see what was wrong with him. So I got up and started with my pail. When I got there I saw a bear as big as a yearling oali. When the dog seen me he ran to me and the bear after him. I picked up a stoneâ€"he was com- ing full tilt, with his mouth wide open. I fired away with the stone and hit the bear a pretty hard rap alongside the head. That made him mad ; he growled a little, and name right on. I picked up a pine knot, and when the bear came up the dog snapped him on the hind leg. He jumped at the dog ; then the dog jumped between my legs ; the bear jumped at me. and then I struck him on the snout. He snorted, and blew the slobbers in my face so I couldn't see for a little bit, ‘then the bear started off and the dog after him, and bit him in the hind leg again. The bear turned and ohaSed the dog, which ran behind me ; then the bear jumped at me, and I struck him square on the snout again and knocked him down, and then I ran for dear life. I was too scared, to tell the truth (we believe him). and the dog after me, and the bear after the dog. I lost my hat and pail. but did not dare to stop an r pick them up. I ran about a half a mile. when I stopped and looked back, saw two ,more bears coming; they were cubs. Then the dog and old bear came full jumpâ€"they all got together. I thought that I was a goner, sure, but they all made for the little dog; they fought awhile. and I called the dog oh. I ran to a tree and climbed it, and the three hears started off. and the dog started after them ; he ran after the hears about a mile. I tell you, if ever anybody made for home I did. This was the first and last ber~ rying that I have done this year. That kind of a bear ain’t to be fooled with; I don‘t want to see any more bears very soon. I have seen a great many bears in my time. but that was the meanest I ever saw. She struck the dog once and knocked him twelve feet through the bush, and the dog got up and started at her again, but was careful to keep out of the bear‘e paws. I tell you I was glad to get back home home alive."â€"-Williamsport Sun and Banner. men‘s presences in the neighborhood had sub- sided. There had been a. fuw words said by Lady Sarah at parking to Lucy which led Adl. to believe that they were to recieve an invitanon to the old Castle Racktent V in Lincolnshire, which was to burst om into an evausoent jol- Iity and splendor at Christmas on the strength of Lady Sarah's approauhing marriage ; but, when theinvitmiou arrived. it was found to be for Lucy only. and all the pretty toilettes which Mrs. March had been contriving were wasted. George would have insisted on Lucy’s going to Wastelands. miserable as the house seemed without her, but the girl pleaded lo he llowed to decline the invitation. Ada. was not strong, she urged; and she herself had had enough gniegy alreedyh ” I would rather spend this first Christmas at home, if you will both have me,” she said, smiling, but with April tears in her blue eyes. And she wrote it little note to kind Lady Sarah, exeueing herself on the score of her cousin‘s delicate health. ifiAiter that their life went on quletly for n (time. The autumn had burned itself out. November fogs came creeping about the old house in the square, and deed leaves were blowing along the garden walks. Ted was still away. Jack did not come home for the holidays, but remained in Lon- don, to his mother’s great dislresa. There were no festivities except the children’s party in Primrose Alley, which was a much more serious undertaking this year. and included the mothers as well as the babies. “ Lud’amercy !” cried the bride, “ 1111’ ii it done ?” A couple from Virginia landed in Milton the other morning to be married by ’Bquire Lewis. They walked hand-dnsband up Main street and took a seat upon the front step of the ’Squire‘s office. and the man asked for a license. As the ’Squire was preparing to make it out, the buxom girl began to inch off, and hesitated. and finally said to the young man in a half whisper : “John,” said Ehe, “I don’t believeI willâ€"I never did feel so flueteredâ€"‘lnwd! 1 wonder what pappy's doing nowâ€"I feel right tremblesomeâ€"less go back ; come on, John.” The ’Squire suggested that the licence had been given, and they had gone moat too far to back out now. “ That’s so I” said John. “ Stand fast. Sally! Don’t git all in’er quiver now,” gently taking her arm. “ Oom’er long in place ; it’s most over with," and she sided back. “You bat’tisâ€"easy as apellin'; an we'll go,” said the man ; and they m( the horse double and rage out of town. THE HUCKLEBERRY PICKER'S ADâ€" VfiNTURE. Lucyâ€"~and perhaps Bee tooâ€"were thank- ful for these outdoor calls on her time and her sympathy. The Doctor helped the girls in their work, and gave them good advice and suggestions ; he was too glad of any excuse to be constantly busy during that long wxnter. MARRIAGE IN NORTH CAROLINA‘ “ Well. you don't want the license then," said t_h§ :Squire. “ Hold on that, Mister ; yes, we do," said the man; and he moved up closer and set his chin to earnest work. “ Now, Sally,” said he, “ don’t go on thater way ; what ’ud folks say? It ’ud be awful hard on me. An' that’s the candy stew at Bob Brown’s to- night, and aller that; and Suoky Jones would jest die a-grinnin‘ over you about it. She was mad as pizen yesterday when she heard we was oomin’-â€" “ I don't mind her no more‘n the dust of! my feet. but I feel so skittish-like, John ;j wiah’ermdie if I haiu’t sorry we come. I don’t want’ex‘ get married, John.” B135 as the ceremony was under way the girljerked back, exclaiming : “I’ll be John- dinged ef I do I” As the ’Squire said “ I now pronounce you man and Wife I” "Say, Mishaâ€"r, fix on your papers," said John. “Marryin’s nuthin; no more’n standin’ up in spellin’ class at Oldfield school." “ Well, stand up,” said the Squire. “ I'm ready." LOVE UNREQUITED, (TO BE CONTINUED.) spellin'; and now and they mounted