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“I shall get over it very soon,” she said to herself once more, “and I am glad no one need ever know the truthâ€"everybody will believe that Ijilted himwtlmatis bad enough, but not so bad as theatruth. 1 could not bear to be pitied as a forsaken damselâ€"411m would kill me E” OR, AT CROSS PURPOSES. H VIgWill be seen that it was Lady Honoria’s vanity that sufl‘ered throughout tar more in- tensely than her heart. aghast, you '2” And that was all the information the family at the Rectory ever received concern- ing Lady Honoria's broken engagement. ()nly long afterwards, when they heard of another event, which as yet was in the dim future, then the two girls, talking the mat- ter over to each other, thought that they could put two and two together, and a little more of the truth of the business became clear to them. But-CLclly, who was creeping along un- der the shadow of the orchard wall, did not I: 10w this. Pregently Mls. Norton came into the mom. “Is Sir Edward gone already 1’” she asked 'nef, kingjy. “ Yes, he is gone. He will not dine here tn-night, Mrs. Norton. The fact is, I have just broken off our engagement altogether.” “ 0h ! my dear !” cried Mrs. Norton, aghast, “how dreadfully sorry I am for Lady Hanoria did not lose a minute in tell- ing the tgutb to her hgvstesstu I , “ You need not be sorry for me,” Bald Lady Honoria, quietly, “because it is en- tirely my own domg. We found that We were not likely to make each other happy, so I thought it best to break everything 01]". I have done quite right, and require no pity at all. \Vill you please tell your husband and daughters, Mrs. Norton ; and would you kindly send these letters to the post for Meanwhile, in the desolate little sitting- room in Mrs. VVilson‘s green-shuttered lodg- ing-house there were that morning two peo- ple who were very happy indeed, in spite of many stabs of conscience for the mistakes of the past on one side, and for sundry mis- givmgs concerning the troubles of the future on the other. “I think I have behaved abominably throughout both to you and to her,” said Edgar to the little head that lay safe and happy upon his shoulder. “I wish I could feel more penitent and more umhappy; but just now, 1 can only feel insane with joy and delight ‘17 “Oh I what will Lady Dyson say cried poor Lily, £0; hpndrg’glxtim‘e. “ She'was veryggbod to me,” murmured Lily._ “ lease do not do that any more,” was Lily’s only rejoinder to a course of action which, to people accustomed to the manners and customs of lovers, may be better im- agined than descrxbed. She went very slomly, turning round every now and then to listen and look back at the house. It was quite earlyâ€"only about half~past sixâ€"and nearly all the blinds of the house were drawn closely down. Only from one distant window there was somebody with sharp eyes, and a keen, eager face, who saw that solitary figure stealing along under the shadow of the 01'- chard wall. And the owner of those sharp eyes, who had only just got. up ott of bed, straightway began to huddle on the first clothes that came under her hands at her ut- most speed. ‘ ~We1'1,’ I think she will forgive you,Lily. Do you know, that I helieve she got very fondygf you during yogr illuesfl” “He left her and went back to the inn, and there, upon his table, lay a telegram await;- ingfihim. ' HER LAST (YARD. Old Mr. King left his bed unusually early on the morning of the lst of May, wrapped his dressing-gown about his lean figure, and went eagerly to the window and looked out. It was a lovely spring morning; the trees were all covered with tender green leaves, the dew lay thickly upon the grass, the hawthorn and lzrburuums were fast bursting into bloom, and the birds carolled gayly their greeting to the new-born summer. At that minute ‘a slender figure, wrapped fror. head to foot in along cloak, and wear- ing a. thick veil, was creeping slowly and c lutiously across the dew-drenched grass at the back of the house. Never had Mr. King felt happier or in better spirits. 111 was Norman’s wedding,- day. Everything had been settled accord- ing to his Wishes; there had been no hitch and no disturbance in the programme he had laid out for his grandchildren’s lives. \Vithin a few hours he would stmd within the flower-decked chancel of the village church, and he would give Cecily away to her cousin, and the “ Wedding March ” would strike up, and the wedding-bells would ring, and the darling wish of his old age would be fulfilled ; and then the bride and bridegroom would be whirled off in a. carriageand-four to the station, on their way to the Continent, for their wedding-tour, and he and his Stella would he left alone in the big house together. He would send Harriet Finch away, and Stella should keep house for him. “ It has all gone off well,” said Mr. King, to himselt; “but I am glad I puts that: codioil into my willuit will do no harmâ€" by twelve o’clock today it will be invalid, and it has kept; my mind easy all this time, for I had a. misgivng that the girl was go- ing to play me false, but I suppose I was mistaken ; still in has kept me irom fretting. and, as Graham is alwavs telling me, if T want to go on living I must not fret myself. Ah, Well, I am happy enough now ! Every- thing has turned out just as I wished it l" "‘ And now, my little drrling, I must go â€"-I shall leave Sandyport this afternoon; and when you are quite strong again, and the whole of this business has blown over, then you will come back to Ball'ield, and thenâ€"and then ” “ Please come home at once. Your broll‘m' has left home wiih Miss King.” “He tore it open. t was from his mother, and ran thus 2 CHAPTER XXX. (CONTIKUEIL) LADY HONORIA DOES lIEIL DUTY. STELLA : CHAPTER XXX I. Cecily was playing her last card. She had come to the end of the eerie-comedy she had been acting so longâ€"and now she was ready to stake everything she had so long striven for upon this last desperate action. Last night the will that was to do so much for her, was signed} {So far all was safe. Now nothing was left to her save to deal the death-blow to the old man whose house had sheltered her treacherous and Wicked self for so many months! All night long she had sat up writingâ€"writing the letter that nhe had laid on his library table before she stole forth from the house, so that he might see it the first thing when he came down-stairsâ€"and writing too, to Stella, to tell her the truth of everything. As to Norman, she had not even gone through the form of writing to himâ€"“Norman,” she said to herself scornfully. “will console him- self very easily ; he and Stella will never be richâ€"but then they are the kind of people who do not care in the least for money; they will be perfectly content to be poor all the days of their livesâ€"~Whereas Iâ€"L could not have done without it. I have worked hard for it tooâ€"«oh ! what hard work it has been lwbut thank goodnessjt is all over now l” She had got safely round the corner of the orchard wall by this time, and she was out of sight of the house. She walked quicker and breathed more freely now. She carried a heavy dressing-bag in her hand; into it she had crammed all the jewellery that had bten given to her as wedding presents, in- cluding the family diamonds from her grand- father. and the set of pearls and rubies that were Norman’s wedding-gift to her. Cecily had no remoree of conscience at all in doing this. She had also a little money, about ten pounds, with her. Presently she reached a low wooden gate that led out of the park into the road ; here, behind a clump of trees that had hidden it from her Eight until she came close to it, stood a Stanhope phueton with the hood drawn up. As she reached the gate, W'alter Dyson’s face peered out from behind it. “Here you are at last,” he said, in a whisper. "I thought you were never com- ing-fa everything fight ‘1” “Yes, so far all has gone wellâ€"the will was signed last night.” “ Is this all your luggage l” “ Oh ! my boxes are ready packed ; I dare sayI shall get them to-morrow. I have got the diamonds here l” tapping the bag with a. laugh. “ You are an uncommonly clever gill, and I must say I am very glad to get hold of you at last. Now jump up quickly, and let us be off before the alarm is given ; and be- sides, we have not too much time to catch the train at the Junctionâ€"it) is ten miles at the very least.” And there stood Mrs. Finch lxy the gate, in the long damp grass, in a short, dark woollen petticoat and a red flannel dressing- chket, with her scanty hair all flying loose- ly in the wind aboutber thin neck, shouting and waving her hands vainly after the de- parting couple. There was no servant, and he hdped her up into the phaeton. She drew herself as far back as she could into the shadow of the hood, and \Valter Dyson teok his seat by her side. But for all her shouting she was not able to stop them. When the phaeton was quite out of sight, )1 rs. Finch turned round and fled to the house. There was a glance of malicious delight upon her face. “ \Vicked, abandoned girl l” she cried to herself, triumphantly ; 1 always knew she was false and deceitful. She has eloped with one of the Dysonsl I could not see which, but I know the gray horse and har- ness well enough. And now, at last, I can be revenged upon the old man who has ground down my lite for so many years, and treated me like an upper servant instead ofa relation l Now, at last, I can repay him all the rough words and the insulting sneers he has cast; at me for so long! Oh! what a blow this will be for him lâ€"his darling schemes overthrownâ€"his nephew tricked out; of his brideâ€"his beautiful plans for everybody all shattered at a stroke l How delighted I am to think I shall be the first to tell himâ€"perhaps even he wi lbe grateful to me for revealing to me this inquitious prcveeding to him, and he will add some- thing to his Will in acknowledgmentâ€"Who knows l” And this latter thought still further quickened M rs. Finuh's returning footsteps towards the house. In another minute she was knocking loud- ly at :\l r. King’s bedroom door, quite obliv- ious, in her excitement, of her own very re- markable, and not very presentable cos- tume. “Now What on earth is it?” he began, confronting the stranger-attired figure who came in as he opened the door, “what have you got to say that you couldn’t wait till I was dressed? I suppose the confectioner hasn’t sent the cake, or the cook has spoilt the jelhes, or some such rubbish?” “ I assure you tfiis is no trifle,” she said, earnestly, and with such evident; agitation, t‘uat his attention was arrested to it. “You “Off at last, my dear wife!” he said, bending down to her with an affectionate smile, for he was fond of her after a fashion. And then Cecily littered a cry. "Good gracious l there is Mrs. Finch !” she exclaimed. “Drive faster, Walter, or we shall be stopped !â€"~â€"hateful woman 1 she must have followed me I” The phaeton dashed of)" rapidly, and was soon Whirled out of sight round a sharp cor- ner of the road. “ What a. nuisance an impatient woman is 1” grumbled the old man from within. “\Vait a. moment, then, and I will open the door.” After a few seconds he did so, and ap- peard envel )ped in a. long flowery dressing- gown, in which his gmuut figure looked leaner and more attenuated than ever. “Mr. King, it is no rukbish at all,” said Mrs. Finch, eagerly. “I have a very ter- rilflg pic‘c‘e of news to ten you 1’: 'J‘hé old man frowned uneasily; but he had no serious apprehensions as yet. "' You womengt‘hink everything; terribleâ€" there Is no and to the fuss made about every txifle: Out with it, then I” “Mr. King, I must speak to you at once 1" she cried. “ My good woman, I am just out cf my bchyou must Wait.” “ I cannot wait a moment, my dear cousinâ€"I positively must speak to you ! I have something of the utmost importance to reveal to you 1” must prepare yourself for a great shock, M r. King.” The old man trembled. “Don’t; go beating about the bush,” he said, hoarsely, “but in Heaven’s name tell me what has happened at once I Is it Nor- man ‘3” “ She has run sway with one of the Dy- sonsâ€"I am not sure whichâ€"I could not see; but they have driven off together not ten minutes ago.” The old man was livid. “ They must be follcwed at oncewinsbant- ly ; they can be stopped ! Where is Norman? Ring the hell, What are you standing star- ing here for? Let me go l” He was strug- gling to reach the door : he shivered from head to foot. Mrs. Finch tried to quiet him ; he shook her off wildly. "They must be followed at once," he repeated. “It is not too lite ; they can be stopped.” “ “mail” shout'ed the old man, wildly, catclglngllold of her handg. “Norman is quite well. It is Cecily King Who has me away-3’ And then suddenly Stella: White as a sheet, stood behind them on the threshold, hol ling an open letter in her hand. " Oh ! grandpapaâ€"dcar grandpapaâ€"it is no use!” she cried; “they cannot be stop- pedâ€"it is too late. Cecily has deceived us all; she has been married to \Valter Dyson ever since she came here!” He stopped short and gasned, for breath ; the blood rushed back in a flood to his face, his eyes stared blankly for one minute be- fore him. Then he flung up his arms wildly into the air : one short gasping cry burst from his lips; and he fell face forward all his length upon the floor. Cecily’s evil work had prospered. She killed her granfather, but it was Shell 3 lov- ing lips that all unwittingly had given him his death-blow. From that instant all was confusion and terror ; the fugitive couple Were forgotten ; there was a Wild hurrying to and fro through the flower-decked house. Instead of the merry laughter, and the good wishes, and the happy faces that were to have filled Wrexham Hall Ihat bright May morning, there were scared looks and terrified Whisp- ers, and the grave face of the hastily-sum- moned doctor pressing through the fright- ened cluster of servants towards the cham- ber of death. “I suppose you will be very much shock- ed and horrified at me when you find out that I have run away from home with V’Val- ter Dyson. I think long ago you must have guessed that I had some secret which I was keeping from you, and now the time has come when I must tell you the truth. Last winter, when I stayed with the Ha1e~ vys, Imet Walter Dyson in Paris. We fell in love with each other, anc he proposed to me. But \Valter is a younger son, and I had nothing. Marriage under such circum- stances would have been folly. To be poor, you know, would never have suited me ; the most devoted husband would weary me out in six weeks had I to live in a cottage with him. Yet I was fond enough of Walter to be unwilling to give him up. Then it came into my head that I had only to promise to marry Norman in order to get our grand- father‘s money. I did not much think about the future, nor where it would lead me to: but I proposed to “falter that we should cancel our engagement, and that I should go to Wrexham, and feign to con- sent to marry our cousinâ€"for I knew that you had refused him, and therefore it would not be taking anything from you. \Vell, Walter did not like the plan at all, not from any struples of conscrence, but because he is very jealous. The only way in which I could gain his consent was by agreeing secretly to marry him at once, in order that, he said, I might be bound irrevocably to him. We were married at the English They had got the old man into his bed ; he did not die at once ; he lingered till the afternoon, but he was never conscious again. At three o’clock he died, and Norman led the weeping Stella away from his death- bed. “ She has killed himâ€"she has killed him !” moaned Stella in her misery. “Oh ! Norman, what did she do it for? How could she deal him such a, cruel blow Y” Stella, in the absorption of he: grief, did not even think of how great an alteration in her own life Cecily’s conduct was likely to effect. But Dr. Graham, who stood by the sor- rowing cousins, and who heard the words, remembered very well that Cecily knew all about her grandfather’s heart~disease, and he could have told them so, had he not been too Kind-hearted to make unnecessary mis- chief iu the already alfiicted family. By and by Sir Edgar came over from Bar- field, in great distress of mind concerning his brother’s conduct, but the greater anxiety about the master of the house had absorbed all lesser troubles. These two, who had comforted each other throughout these terrible hours of horror and misery, had no other consolation upon earth now save each other. Oh! how horrible it was to Stella to pass along the passages and staircases all wreathed for the marriage festivities with satin ribbons, and trails of flowers and greenery: to see the long table lair? out in the great dining-room below, and the waiters, with white and horrified faces. clearing away the preparations for the wed- ding-feast ! And then there was the open door of Cecily’s room, and her boxes stand- iing already packed in the middle of the our. “ She could not have known that he had heart disease,” said Norman, gravely ; “She could never have realized that such a shock would kill him.” “ What; did she Say to you in thdt letter?" asked Norman of his cousin, as he stood at the door of her room with her. “1thka you ought to read it,” said Stella. She went into her room and found it, and bringing it out to him. placed it in his hands. ” Thank you,” said Norman, simply. And then he took the letter out-of-doors and read it by himself in the garden among the budding trees and the carolling birds, and all the bright summer sights and sounds that were going on without, just the same as if death and sorrow did non come to visi: VVrexham Hall. BY THE FOUNTAIX. This was Cecily’s letter to her sister : “ My DEAR STELLA. CHAPTER XXXII. And then Cecily uttered a wild cry of de- spair, flung up her arms madly into the air, and then fell down prone :md uncon- scious into a. heap at her husband’s feet. This was the Letter :â€" “ MY DEAR Mus. Drsox, “ I have great pleasure in writing to tell you that your dear sister has inherit- ed the whole of your grandfather-’5 fortune, with the exception of the house, furniture, pictures, plate, &c., and twenty thousand pounds which are left Mr. Allingham. Tue greater portion of his fortune was originally left to you, but by a codicil to the will, it was so left conditionly only upon your mar- riage with your cousin; failing that, it re- verts to your sister ; under the circum- stancs, of course, you are quite unprovided for. Two months have passed away since Mr King's death, and Stella. King and Mrs Finch now are the only inhabitants of Wm);- ham Hall. Directly after the funeral, Norman had gone away. He had expressed a Wish that Chapel in Paris. I left Madame Halevy’s ostensibly to join you on the very day of my wagging. “ Two college friends of Walter’s wit- nessed the ceremony, and one of them gave me away. Afterwards we crossed over to England, and spent three days in London together. Walter and I came down home together, and on the evening of my strange appearance at \Vrexham, when you were so startled and puzzled at 'my unexpected ar- rival on foot outside your window, my hus- band had just dropped me, not a hundred yards from the house, from the fly in which he was going on to Barfield. “ Well, now, you can easily gums the rest. I have not had avarv happy time of it, as you may imagine. \Vhat with work- ing out my plans, and pretending to be fond of Norman, and having to meet Walter at all hours of the day and night, to keep him in good temper; and then navng to elude Mrs. Finch, whose keen eyes begun to sus- pect me ; you may imagine that I have had my hands pretty full. Do you remember the night we dined at Barfield. when “'31â€" ter took me in for dinner? You may guess what a good joke the whole thing was to me ; and yet, I assure you, lhava had many a sleepless night and many an anxious day. especially since that horrible Finch has taken to watch me ; for if she had found me out and betrayed me to any of you, all my trouble would have been thrown away. “ \Vell, what-is it ?” bziid ‘Vflter, taking it from her hand. “ \Vell, now it is all over, and graud'papu's will is signed ; and by the time you get this letter, \Valter and I will be away on the road to France, and Norman Will have learnt that the whole of my engagement to him has been a farce. As he does not care a farth- ing about me, and is over head and ears in love withâ€"well, I won’t say whom ! â€" I don‘t think it even necessary to apologize to him for ‘takinq myself all. “ And now, S'telle, I have only to ask your forgiveness. Don’t think worse cf me than you can help, and when all this has blown over, I hope some day to come over to England and to have a good laugh with you over the whole story. The letter fluttered from N orman’s hand to the gtound, and a strong feeling of dis- gust took ossession on him. Selfish, un- principled,’ ndishamelegsâ€"how difl‘erent‘was So Mr. and Mrs. \Valber Dyson waited at the pleasant city on the Seine, and beguiled the days of waiting by many excursions in the neighborhood, and many ramblesthrough the streets and churches of the interesting old town. "‘You Willhear to-morrow morning ; they will write,” said her husband, consolingly. “Don’t fidget yourself about itâ€"â€"it is quite sure to be all right-there is nothing to be anxious aboutâ€"you are sure to have a letter in the morning.” Saturday morning came, and with it a black edged envelope with the Laughton postmark. Cecilv tore it open breathlessly, and remained speechless, staring at it. Cecily trom Stella. ! Not a vestige of re- morse for her duplicity and her deceitâ€"not a particle of shame for her love of wealth and the greed with which she had grasped at the money of which she was in truth de- frauding Stellaâ€"only a light wish that they might enjoy a “ good laugh ” over the dis- creditable story, and an unseemly reading of the “joke” it had been rto outwit and deceive all her relations and friends. Cecile had in a po: txript given an address to which she entreated her sister to write, within the next few days, to tell her what: had happened at Wrexham after her depar- ture. It: was at an hotel at Rouen. and there she stated that she and her husband would remain {or a fortnight, and look anxiously for news from home. In point of fact, the success ef Cecily’a whole scheme depended upon the news she was to receive from \Vrexham ;if her grand- father lived, he would certainly alter his will. But if he diedâ€"Cecily was ashamed to own even tolher own heart, how earnestly she desired that her wicked scheme might have succeeded. “Everything i safe 3" said Cecily, white with agitation, to her husband, “but I won’t go home for the whole worldâ€"I should feel like :1 murdercss l” she added shuddering. “ Nonsense,” said her husband “you have nothing to do w1th his death at all; an old man with heart-disease may drop down dead any day. You must not think of it; any longerâ€"the money is all right, they will telegraph to us again, of course, as soon as the will is read.” ()n the Friday, there was, however, no telggflam, up}; Cecily began to feel uneasy. Kothing could exceed the contempt which Norman felt towards her, excepting his own deep thankfulness for having escaped from such a. Wife. There came a. telegram from Stella. to the hotel at Rouen on the very day after their arrival there. Oh ! how Cecily trembled as she opened itâ€"and how the words danced before her eyes before she could read them 1 “ Irandpwpa is Meadâ€"[he news has kiilcd himâ€"thefzmcral mm be on Fridayfiwill you (some home?” But therevthey were, as plain as daylight before her : “ Your affectionate sister, “ Your sincere friend, “ BARuIET F1 N011. ” ‘ ‘ CECILY.” Sir .1 ohm Macdonald has subscribed twenty, five dollars towards the erection of new bar racks at Kingston for the Salvation Army‘ “I only know of one way in which You can do that, my darling!” he said, with all the glow of his love in his eyes ; and then he knelt down beside her, and put his arms around her. “Stella, will you not give me that lung waited for kiss now, and with. it your dear self 2” Stella and Mrs. Finch would continue to make \Vrexham their home for the present, but had mid no further word about his future plains.” » Stella remained therefore all alone. She sorrowed at first deeply for her grandfather and for her sister’s treachery; but by and. by another grief began to settle at her heart. ‘ By and by an event luppcuml which Him}. a. little brightness and pluiisurc over he): monotonous life. There was :1. “willing 3A; erfield, and Lily Finch Wm the bride : am no one rejoiced more sincerely in her happi ness than dill Sue lu, altngugi her due; mourning precluded hr fun: neing at :l‘n‘z ceremony. Lady Dysnu haul at hm; given. her willing consent 10 Sir Edgar’s marréaae, It had been a great blow to her when lUH engagement to Luly Honoria had been broken oil'; but as me never quite under‘ stood the rights of it. she behaved to her dying day that the lil u‘l’s (laughter hatl lw haved very badly h) her son ; and she fc . such a sincere compassion for his supposud disappointment, that she was the more ready to listen pztiently to him when he spoke to her about Lily. “In sending for you, Norman 1" she 1'94 peated, wonderingly. “Did you expect me to do that l” “ Oh, hush 1” she interrupted, quiz kly. “Do not pain me by saying that I” and they, with a deep blush, she added, slowly, “.Nor- man, I would like to share all that money with you I" "Yes," said Stella, Lmiling out (£1112: fullness of her content. “But then, we were playing in the dark, for we have 11 been at ‘CROSS PURI'OShS !”’ \Vhy did not Norman come to herâ€"what was there now to keep them apart! Had he forgotten his old love to her, and the pas« sionate words he had spoken to her that day when he had rescued her from the gypsy on Loughton Common 3 Was all that a. drean'l that is past to him ? or had he been so thoroughly disgnsm l by her sister's w ill duct, than Inwonsuiously he h'ul rcmiled from her also, and had included her in the juur. lxlnua due only to (Emily? Stella. could not; answer these questions 3;; herself; but she Was very sad, lur Norman remained up In L union. and mei‘ohor wrote or came to her. - “I suppose it is fate,” said Lirlv Dyscug resignedly. “It is evident that in is to be, so I had better make the best of it. Am: after all, Lin is a dear girl, and she behaved. wonderlully well during her illness.” Stella. looked down lazily at them, and dipped her White fingers into the basin. She did not hear the approaching footsteps across the lawn behind her, only all at once a. shadow was thrown across the fountain and looking up quickly, she found Norm-3.11 standing by her side. “Uh Xv Stella, what a long time you have been in sending for me l" he said reproach fully, as he took her hands in his : but his face was beaming with delight and happy nesss. ' She bent her face, rosy as any flower, to wards him in éilence, and theiriips met in : happinegswtop‘ dgep f'orrwords. “Oh E Stella,” lle said, presently, “ lam mucu of our lives you and I have WILSth We might haye bfleen‘lmppymlpng ago I" Then, when the wedding was over, and the nele married couple gone away,and the neighborhood had settled down again after the commotion, Stella became very lonely and very sad. She received frequent letters from Cecily, but they were very unsatisfao- tory ones. Mr. and ll rs. Walter Dyson were drifting about from one gambling- place to another upon the Continent, \Valter, apparently, had taken to Rouge-eh Noir as a professionâ€"sometimes he won,but oftener he seemed to lose ; and then Cecily wrote very despondingly. She was evident- ly far from happy» the love founded on self- ishness and want of principle, which might have flourished and increased in sunshiny and prosperous conditions, was fast; perzeh- ing utterly under the cold winds of poverty and adversity. “ Of course I did. Do you think I would have obtruded my own selfish hopes into your days of mourning for the 01:1 man you loved so well? I waited for you to write to me. Besides, you are a I‘lCh woman now." So one fine J une morning Lily was mm“- ried to Edgar in Bartield Church, and. amongst the handsomest of her wedding: presents, there figured a. diamond locket; from Lady Honqriu Rosett. Mrs. chh, of course, was very great or: the occasion, and talked so incessantly after- wards of “my daughter Lady Dyson,” than: Stella. got very tired of the subject. Mrs. Finch, of course, forgave her 01 I scarce against the Dysons in conscqueuce of her daughter’s marria ge.‘ “1 never thought he would have married her, you know," she explained to Stella: “and though I could see that Lily was fool- ish about him, I discouraged it in every way, thinking he meant nothing serious, How- ever, I must say the girl played her gamma better than I gave her credit for." “ I think 112w own sweetness alld goodnvss is the only ‘game’ Lily has ever been guilty of,” said Stella, a little indignantly. Ire Ohe afternoon she sit alone on the e‘b of the stone basin in the garden. The foam- tain was still, and the clear p001 shone in the sunshineâ€"every little goldâ€"fish looked like a. jewel as it: darted across the trims- parent water. The letter was: sent, and two days went and no answsr came. Stella was very mu- happy. Stella. atlaet determined to do something substantial for her sister and her husbane. Out of her own abundance she would pro‘ vide for them. It was however, imposszble to do this without consulting Norman : 3.an so, after a. great deal of hesitation, one day she wrote to him to his Cl 11b in London, prc- poundingher scheme of making to Cecily cm annual allowar (:1 out of her 0 N1] ample for- tune, that might enable her to live in com- fort if not in luxury, and she begged him to come down and see her, that she might com- sult with him about it. ITIIE mum] IMO‘va