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LOVE REASONS NOT. CHAPTER LVI1I. " BEHOLD MY BBVCMOX !" I .v, o M ih* *peke the word* Lady L.a>na- well's heart suck within her. No softening oame to the beeutilul face, no tenderneii no kindline**; it seemed rather u though h*r last word* bad turned Leone to *tone 8h* grew pale even to her lip*. *he folded her hand* with a hard clasp, her beautilul figure grew more erect and dignified the words dropped slowly, each one seeming to cnl the air a* it fell. "You call mi noble, Lady Laniw.ll ! you who did your bet to *ully my fair name; you call m* your son'* best frienJ, when you flung m* aside from him as though 1 had been of no more worth lhan the du*t beneath hi* feat !" Lady Laniweli bent forward. " Will you nol forget lhal?" *he aaid. "Let ihe p*t die. I will own now that 1 was harsh, unjuit, even cruel to yon ; but 1 repenl it I have never laid a* much be- foreI repeal it, and I apologise to you I Will you accept my apology?" The effort wa* so great lor * proud woman to make, that the counte** seemed almost to struggle for breath u eheaaid the word*. Leone looked on in proud, angry icorn. "You apologize Lady Lanswell ! You think thai a f*w wordi can wain away ihe mo-t cruel wrong one woman did to another- Do v on know w lut you did ?- you robbed m* of uiy hu*b*nti, o.' a man I loved u I ahall love no other, you blighted my fair name. What wa* I *.<n that marriage waa- set aside? You you tortured me you broke my hea ri. yon slew all that washed in m* and now all these years afterward you c.ome to me, and think to overwhelm me with faint, feeble worls of apology. Why, if you gave me your heart'* blood, your very foul, even, it would nol atone me ! I had but one lifr, anil yon have (polled it I 1 had bul one love, you trampled ou it with wicked, relenllM* feel ! Ah, why do I peak ? Words are hut sound. No, Ljady Lanswell, I refuse your apology now or at aay lime ! We are enemies, and ihall re- main ao until we die ! " The countess shrunk from the passion of her indignant words. " You are right in some meaiure," she said, sadly. " I was very hard, but it wai for my ion'* lake ! Ah, believe me, all for him." " Your on," retorted Leone ; " you make your *on the excuse of your own vanity, pride, and ambition. What yon did. Lady Lan**ll, proved how little you loved your ion ; you parted us knowing that be luved me, knowing that hi* whole heart wa* bound up in ire, knowing that 'he had bul nne with, and it wu to apenil his whol* life with me ; you parted ui knowing thai he could never love another woman a* he loved me, knowing that you were destroying hi* life, even as you have destroyed mine. Did love for your son actuate you then? " " What I believed to be my love for my son and care for hi* interest* alone guided me," said Lady Lan*well. "Love for your son!'' laughed Leon* "Have you ever read the story of the mother of the Maccabees, who held her twin ions to die rather than ihey live lo deny tlie Christian faith ? Have you read of tb* Kngliih mother who, when her fair- haired ion grew pale at the sound of thi rlnt cannon, oried, 'He brave my ion, death does aV>t iMlonnminato glory is immorl si.' J call inch lov* a* lhat the love of a mother for her ion the love that teachei s man to be true, if it coat his life ; to be brave, if courage bring* him deuh; to be loyal and noble. True motherly love ehow* iuelf in 'hat fashion, Lady Lam- well" The proud head of Lucia, Countess of Lanswsll, drooped before this girl an it hsd never done before any power on earth. What ha* your love ever done for your son, Lady Laniwell ?" ihe aiked. .Shall I tell you? You made him a traitor, a coward, a liar through your Inlriguee, hi perjured himself. You made him dialoyal and ignoble you made him false. And yet you call that love I I would rather have Iho love of a pagan mother than *uoh a* your*. " What have you done for him ? " she continued, the fire of her paiaion rising "whalhave you done far him? He ii young and has a long life before him. Ii he happy ? l-ook at hit face look at hie rest- lea*, weary eye* liiten to the forced bilter laugh ! Is tie happy, alter all your false love has done lor him ? You hive taken from him the woman he loves, and you have given him one for whom he cares so nt lie he would leave her to-morrow t Have you done no well, Laily Laniwell for your son" "No, inde<l I have not !" cam* with* eat ligh from I.a.ly Lanswell'a lipi. Perhaps, if it were to be but DO, I will not (ay that. Yon have noble thought* and noble ideal -tell me, Leone, will yon help me? " " Help you in what? " ihe asked, proud- ly. The oountea* flung aside the laooe and ribbons that seemed no stifle her. "Help me over my son !" the oried; " be generous to me. Many people in my place would look on you a* an enemy I do not. If you have ever really loved my ion youoannot be an enemy of mine. I ppel to ihe higher and nobler part of yon. Home people would be afraid that you should triumph over them I am not. I hold yon far a generous foe. " " What appeal do you wilh to make to set" asked Leone, quite ignoring all the compliment* which th* counteai paid her, Laatwell looked u she felt em- raiaeil; it was on* thing to carry this r.i.w throiuh in fancy, but still the foe. I Lady 'barrss murview through in fancy, another when face to lace with and that foe a beautiful, haukhly woman, with right on her aid*. My lady was less al ease than ii>* had ever been in her life before, her eyu fell, her lipi iremblen, her gemmed ringers played nervou*ly with her laces and ribbons. "That I ihould oome to you at all, Leone, prove! that I think you a noble woman, 6 ihe said "my trouble i* grat the happiness of many lives lie* in your hand*. ' " I do not uudersland how," aaid Leone. " I will tell you," continued the coun. tea*. " You are going to Berlin, ar* you not?" She aaw a quiver of pain pass over the beautiful face at ahe a*k*d the question. " Ye*," replied Leone ; 1 have an en- gagement there." "And Lord Chando*, my ion, has laid something aboul going there, loo?" "Ye*," replied Leone; "and 1 hope he will ; he know* the oily well, and I shall be glad to see a familiar faoe." There wu a minute'* lilenoe, during which Lady Laniwell brought all her wit and oouiage to bear en the situation. She continued : " Lady Chando* doe* not wish my ion to go to Berlin. I aoppou it i* no secret from you that ihe entirely disapprove! of her husband's friendship wilh you ?" Leone bowed her proud, beautiful head. "That is a matter ol little moment to me," ihe said. My lady'i face flushed st the word*. "I may tell you." she went on, "that lino* Lady Chando* heard of this friend- flip, ihe has been very anhappy." "No one oared when I wan unhappy," raid Leone ; " no one pleaded for me. ' " I do plead for Lady Marion," said the counteee, " whatever you may think of me. She hao done you no harm ; why ihould .ou make mischief between her and her luiband ? " Why did yon make mischief between me and mine ? " retorted Leone ; and my ady ahrunk a* the spoke. Listen to me, Leone ;" ihe aid ; "joo miut help me, you miut bi my friend. If my aon no* 1 to Berlin agsinst hi* wife'* trayera and wishes, ahe ha* declared that ihe will never ipeak to him or aee him wain. " That cannot concern me," caul Leone. " I- or Heavrn'i aake liiteii, and do not peak to meaoheerlleesly. If he goe* to Her- in, Lady G'handoe will appeal to the Duke of Leeter, who ha* jualobiainei for my on the grnatett honor that can be conferred on ao Knghih gentleman the Order of the ijarter. In plain word*, Leone, if my ton follow* you to Berlin, he will loee hi* wife, he will IOM hi* good name, he will loee ca*te. hi* locial position, hi* chance of courtly honor*, the re*pect of hi* own class. He will be laughed at a* a dope, a* a man who hai given up all the honor* of life to dance attendance on an aolren ; in ihort, if he goe* either with you, or after you, to llerlln, he i*, in every *en*e of the word, a ruined man !" and my lady'* voioe faltered a* ih* mi i the word*. Why not tell Lord Chando* all thi* himeelf, and lee what he *ay*T" ukej Leone. Perfect desperation bringi about perfect Iran knee* my lady knew that it wan quite ueeleae to conceal anything. I have caul all lini and more to my aon, but he will no* even lutcn to me A scornful imile ourveil those lovely lip*. He peniite in going to Berlin, then aaid Lone, quieil/. Yea," replied my lady, " he pereiaU in it." Then why come to me ! If your son periMt* in a certain ooune of action, why come to me?" " Beoaua* you can icflnence him. I a*k You cannot know the consequence to yourself if you peniit in this conduct," aid my lady **renly. "Did you think of them for me when you **t uide my marnaije with your son, becau*e you did not think me good enough to be a count*., t" *h. uked, "Lady Lans- well, the hour for vengence haa oome and I wiM lake it. Yoor son shall loe* his wife, hi* home, hi* position, his honon; I oare not what," she oried r*cli.**iy " I oare not whal the world aayi of m*. 1 will do that which I ihall do leu beoaus* I lov* your son than because I desire to puniib you." Lady Lanswell grew very pale a* the listened. Youn i* a terrible revenge," ihe said, gently. " I wi*h that you could invent lome vengeno* that would fall on my head and on mine alone, so as to spare ihoae who ate dear to me. Could you not Ho that ? I would willingly luiier anything to free my ion and bis fair, loving wife." will I m my ou shall know dear life and " No one (pared me, nor rn *paie'" *he *aid. " Y turn apaie you lo he noble beyond the nobility ol 1 aik you to be gene roue beyond the generally of women, I a*k you to for- get the rait and forbid my *on to follow you to Berlin. You know ihe end muil be a bad one forbid it. I a*k you with the warmeit of pray eri and tear* !" It wa* then that Leone rote in righteous rath, in hot indignation, in angry pas- MOD ; roee and stood before the woman who had been her enemy. '1 refuse," ahe aai.l. "Year* ago I went to you a limple-hearted, loving girl, and I prayed you for Heaven'* aake to have mercy on me. You received me with acorn and contumely: you inaulted, out- raged, tortured me ; you laughed at my tear*, you enjoyed my humiliation. I told you then that I would have my revenge, even should I lose everything on earth to obtain that revenge. Now it lay* in my hands, and I graip it, I glory nut. Your on (hall follow me, shall lose wife, home, friends, petition, fair name, a* I loat all yean ago at your bidding. Oh, cruel and wicked woman, behold my revenge I 1 repay you now. Oh, Qod, ihe continued, with a paaiionate ory, " I thank thee that I hold my vengeance in my hand ; I will day and (pare not !" Then *h* itood silant for tome minute*, exhausted by the passion ol her own orda. gre " CHAPTKK L1X. UlkLBM rUUDINIls). " Y ou oannoi posaibly know what you are nay inn," laid Lady Lanswell ; " you muit be mad." No ; I am perfectly aane ; if I am mad at all it I* with delight that the vary deeire of my heart ha* been given to me. Do you forget when you trampled my heart, my life, my love under your fee: that day 1 Do you forget what I have worn ?" " I have never thought of it smoe," laid the oounMM, trying to oonoilitate (till. " Then I will remind you," laid Leone. " I swore to be avenged, no matter what my vengeance coat. I (wore that you ihonld oome and plead to me on your kneea and I would laugh at yon. I do ao. I *wore that you should plead to me, and 1 would remind you how I pleaded in vain. Yon wrung my heart I will wring your*, what it mean* to plead for plead in vain." Can I say nothing that will induce you to liilon to me ?" aaid ibe ocunieM, " will you deliberately persist in Ihe conduct thai will rain three live* ?" Y**, deliberately and willfully," laid Leone. " I will never retract, never go back, but go on to th* bitter end." ' And that end mean* my son's disgrace," aid Lady Lanswell. " It would be the same thing if it meant bi* death, "aaid Leone ; " no one withheld the hand that struck death to me worse than death." " Yon have nothing bat thi* to *ey to me," said Lady Lenswell a* ahe rose with (lately grace from her eeU No ; if I knew anything which would punish you more, whi ;h would more surely pay my debt*, which would more fully wreak my vengeance. I would do it. As for three live*, a* for thirty, 1 would trample them under my feet. I will live for my vengeance, no mailer what it costs me ; and, Lady Laniwell, you have ruined my life, Oood-bye. The beat wish I can 'orm i* that I may never look on your lace again. Permit me to **y farewell. ' Shu went out of the room leaving the count*** bewildered with surprise and dis- may. What ihe says the will do," though: Lady Laniwell ; " I may say good-bys to every hop* 1 have ever iormed for my son/' She went away her heart heavy u lead, with no hope of any kind lo cheer it. Leone went to her room, her whole frame trembling with the strong passion lhal had mastered her. " U' hat has come over me ?" *h* said; " I i longer kuow myself. Is it love, venge- ance, or jealousy lhal has hold of me?" Whatevil sptril ha* taken hold of my hearl? Would I really burl hint whom I have loved all my life would 1 do him harm ? Would I crush lhal fair wife of hi* who wronged me without knowing It ? Let me find out lor myself If it be true." Sh* tried to think, but her head was In a whirl she could not control henelf, she could not control her (nought* ; the aightof Lady Laniwell naemed to have set her heart and soul in flame all the terrible memory of her wrongs came over her, the fair life blighted and ruined, the innocent girlhood and dawning womanhood all spoiled. Il wu too cruel no, *he could never forgive it. And ihen it seemed to her that her brain took fire and ah went mad. .She saw Lord Chando* that same evening; ihey met in a crush on ihe staircue at one ol ibo duosl mansions, where a grand dinner-party preceded a soiree, and the crowd wu so greal Ihey were unable to atir. U ii possible lo be quite slone in * great crowd, as the** two were now. I x-one had on a. I res* of white aalin trim- med wilh mynle, ihe rich fold* of which trailed on the ground. They shook han. Is in silence ; it wa* Lord Chando* who spoke first. " I am 10 glad to see you, Leone ; bat yon are looking ill you must nol look like lhat. Hu anything happened to distress you ?" * Hs taw xreat trouble in the dark eyes raised lo Ins. " Is Lady Marion here ?" she uked. " No," he replied, " She wu to have oome with my mother, but at the lut mo- ment she declined ; I do not know why." 8he wu debating in her own mind whether he would tell him about his mother'* visit >r not ; then she decided it would be hitter. le bent over her. " I oame," he said, " in the hop* of see- ng you. I heard you say laet night that 'ou should be here." In a I )W ton* *he laid to him : '* Your mother has been to see me ; talk ,bout dramatic scenes, we had on*. Ha* ahe told you anything shout it ?" "No," he replied ; "she doe* not ipeak to me ; I am in disgrace ; my lady passee me in silent dignity. She was just going o Lady Marlon'* room whan I cam* away, .lit she did not apeak to me. Whal wa* th* object of her visit, Leone ?" "It wu about Berlin," she said in a low voice. He itarted. "Hatiha been to you about that ?" ho aeked. "I thought ihe had exhausted all the remarks ahe had to make on thai sub- ject." The green foliage and crimson flower* of a huiie camellia henl over them. Lord Chsndoi pushed a*ide the crimson flowers o inn: he might more clearly see his com- panion's laoe. ''What has my mother said lo you about Berlin, Leone ?" he aiked. "She came to beg ol m* to forbid you to go. She lay* if you either go wilh me or after me you will be a ruined man." "It will be a moat iweet ruin," be whi*- pered. "Lance," said Leone, "do you know thai while L*dy Lanawell was talking to me I went mad I am quite lure of u. I said such dreadful thing* to her ; did I mean them ?" "How ihould I know, my Leone; but we will not talk about it ; nevermind what my mother say*, I do cot wi*h to hear it. Sh* oame between onoe, but *he will never again. She parted u* onoe, ahe (hall never part ui again never. There oan be no harm In my going to Berlin, and there "Let u* talk about something lse, Leone, ' h* said. "We havs bat a few moments logethei." "Bat I cannot think of anything else. he laid ; "because my hearl 11 full of it." What els* she would have aai.l will never be known, for al lhal moment iher* wai a stir.iu ih* crowd, and they were seperaled. She took home with her the memory of hia last look a look that said so plainly, "I love you and will go to Berlin for your sake." She took home with her ihe mem. ory of that look, aid lay sleepless through ihe whole nighi, wondering which of ine evils spirits had taken possession of her. The countess bad gone in search of Lady Marion. She found her in her boudoir the beautiful room ahe had ihown with such pride to Madame Vanira. Lady Chando* looked up eagerly as ihe countess entered. "Have yon good new* for me ?" she oried, esgerly. And my lady could not destroy the lingering hope she aaw in ibal fair lace. "N'ol yet," she cried, "but you musl be patient, Marion." "Patience is 10 difficult when so much is at stake. Tell me you had iome plan, some resource ; I saw lhat when you left me. Have you tried it T" "yes, I have tried it," replied Lady Laniwell, sadly. "rUa it auoceeded or failed ?" in* aiked eagerly. and my only regret ii that it i* *o hard anc I cannot make yon mffer more," Y ou are mad," said my lady ; " quite mad." " No, " uid Leone, mine wu a mad lov*," 'I am tans, bu "It ha* failed, ' anewered the counte**, dreading to see the effect of her reply. But to her *nrpri*e, lender, dreamy mil* came over ilia fair face. "\\ hy aiked. are you imiling, Marion ?" ahe "Becauae I, too, have a plat, "ihe replied; " one quite of my own ; and I pray Heaven it may anooeed. " "Will you tell it me?" ake 1 Lidy Lani- welL And the fair, young wife'* aniwer wa* a quietly whilpered : "No," Late that night, while the London street* were darkened by the cloud of ain that seemi to rise a* the sun sen ; while the crowded ballrooms were one Mene of gayety and frivolity ; while tired *ouli went trom earth to Heaveu ; while poverty, sorrow, and death reigned over the whole city, Lady n head bent and her shall go that is, alwayi with your consent and permission." "That you have. But, Lance, ii it true that Lady Marion doe* not with you go to iterlin, and threaten* to leave you if you do i* it true t" Marion, with her golden while hande clasped, knelt praying. There wu peace* on her face and holy, happy love. "liod help me,"she*aid; I will put all my trusl in Him. My huiband will love me when he k-ow." She prayed there until the inn rose in the morning sky, and ihe watched the firsi beam* with a tender imile. "It will be a day ol grace for me," ihe aid, a* she laid her fair head on the pillow to sleep. CHAPTER LX. "THU WOMAX SHALL NkVU KNOW." Leone itood alone in her pretty drawing 1 room, ihe room from which ihe could see the hill* and tree*, and catch glimpse* ot pretly home scenery that were unrivaled. She stood looking al it now, her eye* nxed on the distant hills, her heart re-echoing ih word* : "In the grave alone i* peace. In Heart and mind all wa* tiro** ; ihe seem- ed to have lost the power of thinking ; he had an engagement to ling in her favor- ite opera on ihe evening previous. Hundred* had assembled lo bear her, and al ihe lasl moment they were compelled to find a substitute. Leone could not sing ; it was not that her voice failed her, but to her inexpressible sorrow, when she be^an 10 tell the woe* of another her mind wandered off into her own. In vain ahe tried to collect henelf, to eave herself from the terrible whirl of her brain. "Surely I am not going mad." She bent her head on her band*, and sighed deeply if ; he could but save herself, if ihe could but tell what to do. The night before, only a few hour* previous, it seemed to her her heart and brain had been on fire, tint with jealouiy, then with lov*, then anger. By accident, a* she wai going to her wardrobe, ber han. Is fell on a largo beautiful copy of ih* Bible. She opened 11 careleeely,and her eyes fell on ihe words, "For the wicked there shall be no abiding- place, neither shall they find rest forever." Keel, lhat wu what *he wanted, and if he were wicked she would not find il lor evermore. What wa* being wicked ? People had behaved wickedly lo her, they had taken from her ihe one love that would have been the stay of her life ; they had made her mmt solemn vows nothing. She had been wukedly treated, but did it follow lhal she must be wicked ? "1 could never be a (inner, ' ibe *aid; "I have not the nerve, I have not the strength. I cou 1.1 never be s sinner . " Lightly enough she turned those pages; she saw th* picture ol Rath in th* corn- field simple, loving Ruth, whose words have stood the finest lov* story ever written since she uttered them. There wai another picture ol Queen Either fainting in the awful presence of Ahasuerus the king ; an- other ol a lair young Madonna holding in her arm* a little child; another ol the Mairdalen, her golden hair wet with tear* : another ot a Sacred Head bent low in the agonie* ol death. She looked long at that.for underneath it wu written, "For our sins." Wickednees meant sin. Slanding there, her baud reeling on ihe pane, all ihe truth aoemed to come nome to her It would be a am to cause disunion between husband am! wife; it would be a sin to cause tha hus- band of another womtu lo love her ; il would be a sin lo give way lo ihe desire of vengeance thai wai burning her hearl away, and ihese wordi were so pathetic, "For our una." She had laid her faoe on lhat picture ol the Crucifixion, and burning lean iell from her eye* over it, "(iod have mercy on me," ahe had prayed, "and save me from myself." Then she had slept, and here was the morrow, a lovely summer day wilh the air all fragrance, the birds mil long, and ihe was Hill doing hard battle wilh herself, for, a* she had said to herself, hen wu "a mad love a cruel, mad love." And s* ahe Mood walching the distant hills, wondering if in the blue sky that hung over them there wai peace, a servant once more entered th* room, holding a card in her hand. "Lady Chando*," said Leooe, wondering- ly | "ask her in here." She looked in surpiiao, almost too great for words, at Ihe little card. Lance's wife, who lia I refused to speak to her, who had I disdained to touch her ouwtretohed hand- Lance's wile coming to speak to her. What could it mean ? Were the whole race of the Lanswella coming to ber ? The next moment A fair, iweet face wai mihng into her*, a faoe sbe had aeen last darkened with anger, bat which was tair and bright now, with the light of a holy love. Leone looked at her in amaze. What had happened ? It looked a* though a new life, a new *oul, bad been given lo Lady Marion. And hush, *he w speaking lo her in a lew, tweet voice, that thrilled through the great ainger like the sof t*t cord* from an Eolian harp. " You areiurprned to see me,'* Lady Marion wa* caving, "yet I have done/ right in coming. All last night, while the itari were ihming, 1 prayed Heaven to tell me what it wa* beet for me to do,I ahall alwayi think that the white-wmged angel*, who they lay carry prayer* to Heaven, sent me to yon. I refused to tooch your hand the other day . Will you give it to me now ? Will you liiten lo m* ?~ Leone'* whole heart and icul had risen in hot rebellion and fierce hate against the Countess of Laniwell. They went out in weeceit love and companion lo her fair faced rival now. The iweet voice went on: "I cannot tell why I hate come to you ome impulse hu sent me. Another woman in my place would have looked on you a* a ucceilul rival and have hated yon. 1 can- not. The soul that ha* itirrad other louls cannot be base; yon muit be noble and good or you would not influence the heart* and soul* ot men. Gu, madanie, I nave come to you with two live* in my hand*. Will you iiilen lo me ?" The .lark, beautiful head ol the gifted linger wai bent for a few momenta over the golden head of her rival. Then Leone raised her eye* to Marion's faoe. " You are trembling," ihe aaid ; " you ihall apeak to me a* yon will, but you ihall peak to me here." Some warm, loving irresistible impulse came to ner ; ihe coald not hate or hurt thi* fair, gentle lady whom ibe countee. had put in her place, and whom her hui- band did not love , a great impulse of pity came over her, a iweet and generous com- passion filled her heart . "Yon shall ipeak to me here," ihe re- pealed, duping her arm* round the trembling figure and laying the golden head on her breait. She ki*sd the fair, sad faoe wilh a passion of love. "There," she laid, " Lady Marion, if I had wronged you even in the leut, 1 should not dare do that. Now tall me what you have come to say. Do not tremble so," and the lender %rms tightened their claap. "Do not be atraid t ipeak to ire." "I am not afraid, for Heaven sent me," aid Lady Marion. "I know that you will tell me the truth. I am a* certain of that as I am of my own life. I have been very unhappy over you, Madame Vanira, for my husband seemi lo have cared more for you than for me." "Ha* your huiband ever told you any- thing about me ?" asked Leone, gently. And the aniwer wa* : "No, nothing, except that, like every one else, he admired you very much." "Nothing more ?" aiked Leone. " No, nothing more." " Then,'' aanl Leone to henelf, " the secret that ho ha* kept I will keep, and thi* fair, tender woman shall never know that I once believed myself hi* wife." Lady Marion wondered why ihe bent down and kissed her with all the fervor of self-sacrifice. " I have been very unhappy," continued Lady Marion. " I loved aiid admired you. 1 never had the fainteet suspicion in my mind against you, until dome one oame to tell m that you and my husband had pent a day on the river together. I know il wa* true, but be would not explain it." " Let me explain it," said Leone, sadly. " 1 trust you u you trust ire. I have had a great lorrow in my love ; greater oh. Heaven ! then e"ei fell to the lot of wo- iraa. And one day, when 1 law your ho*- band, Ihe bitternem of it wu lying heavily on mo. I said lomelhing to him lhat led him lo un leritainl bow dull and unhappy I felt. Lady Chandoa, he look me on the river that he might uive me one happy day, noihing more. Do you grudge il to me, dear? Ab, if I could give you the happme** of those few Heeling hour* I would." And again her warm, loving lip* touched toe white brow. " I understand," said Lady Marion. "vVhy did my huiband not speak as you bave done ? Does he care for you, madame ' You will tell me the truth, I know." And the fair (ace looked willfully in Mr own. Lujne wa* silent for a few minute* ; ibe could not look in those clear eye* and speak falsely. Yes," she answered, ilowly ; "I think Lord Cnandoi oarei very much for m* ; I (now thai he admire* and likes me." Lady Marion looked very much relieved. Ther* could inrely be no barm in their friemiahip if ihe could (peak of it so openly. "And you, madame oh tell m* truly- do you love him? Tell me traly ; it eeems that all my life hang* on your word." Again the beautiful faoe drooped silently before the fair one. "It would be so ea*y for me to tell you a falsehood," said Leone, while a great crimson Hush burned her face, "but 1 will not, Yes, I I love him. Pity me, you who love him so well younelf ; be belong! to you, while I ah, pity me because I love him." And Lady Marion, whose heart was touch- ed by the pitiful words, looked up and kissed her. " I cannot hate you, since you love hi m she uid. "He is mine, but my heart aches for you. Now let me tell you w hat I have come to say. You are good and noble as I felt you were. I have oome to ask a grace from you, and it is easier now that I know you love him. How itrange it seems. I stould have thought that hearing you say that you loved my hus- band would have filled my heart wilh hoi anger, but it does not ; in some strange way I love you for it." " If you love him, madams, hi* intereiti must be dear to you. " . " They are dear tome," ihe whi*pered. " How strung"," repeated Lady Marion, " that while the world U full ol men you and I ihoold lov* tha aame man." " Ah, life i* itrange," said Leone ; peace only com** with death." (TO HE coirrisriu.) On th* Greet St. Bernard the monks are building a new and larger hospice, a* travel over the Aoita Martiny even in winter. i u increasing