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 pw pjgjMg^/yM.J"--" w^^p-r^ »-vigauatog!.. "TTT Â¥H \fA !l^ !â- !â-  I 'gun li li- STELLA; OB, AT Ca^QSS PgKPOftS.. CHAPTEE XXV.â€" CoNTiNCKD. SANDYPOET. The little seaside village â€" for it is little more, of Saadyport, lies opon the flattest and the usiliest portion of tbe Essex coast. There are neither trees nor hills landwards, neither cliffa nMr YOcks seawar^t to breltlc the dull afed bleak monotony of tbe sbedfe nothing bnt sand â€" sand everywhere, Flat sandy belds, sparsely covered with ragged grass behind, kw heaps of sandy hillocks in front, merging into wide yellow slretches of wet, swampy sands at low tide and be- tween the rare fields at the back and tbe sandheaps between it and the sea, lies the village itself. One stra(;gling street, a cluster of brown fishermen's huts, a stuc- coed.Church with a dwarf tower, and a dozen or so of jfreen shuttered lodging-houses be- yond it, which owe their existence to the lact that tbe healthy air â€" the ope recom- mendation to Sandyport that any one can urge â€" induces tbe people in the neighbor- hood to send their children to them for sea air. It is healthy and it is cheap â€" nobody can say anything«more in favour of Sandy- port. It was at the door of the very last in the row of these lodging-houses that Lily Finch and her small box were deposited late one afternoon by the one-horsed omnibus, which went backw ards and forwards to meet the trains at Sandyport Junction, three miles oflF. Mrs. Barnes, a portly and important per- sonage, who patronized her, and called her " my dear " in familiar and motherly man- ner, gave her her arm to help her out of the vehicle that bad brought them, and rang the bell at the green-shuttered abode to which she had brought her charge The door was mstantly opened by a tall and melancholy-faced woman, with whom Mrs. Barnes instantly exchanged friendly greetings. " You see, I've brought you your lodger, Mrs. Wilson. She isn't good for much yet, but my lady says you are to take good care of her.' "It is very good of her ladyship to have recollected me. I hope" â€" turning round with a solemn stare at Lily, who was so faint and tired after her journey that she could hardly stand â€" "I hope, miss, that you mean to get well, and give her ladyship no more trouble." Poor Lily had not strength to answer her landlday's somewhat alarming welcome. She followed her meekly up- stairs to the room that had been provided^for her. A large airy upper room, overlooking the sandheaps and the sea beyond them, as cheerful a view, probably, as any room in Sandjrport could possibly command and yet, when the two women had gone down- stairs to gossip over their tea, and she and her box were left alone together, Lily, al- though she had food, and clothing, and Iod£;iDg provided for her by the kindness and charity of others â€" although she knew that nothing was expected of her but to en- joy the sea air and getstronp â€" felt more un- speakably lonely than she had ever felt in her life before. It will be easily imagined that there had been no parting scene between herself and Sir Edgar. Lady Dyson had carefully pro- vided sgamst such an alarming and danger- ous experiment. No sooner was Sir Edgar's back turned, than superhuman efforts were made to strengthen up poor Lily's frame to enable her to endure a journey. By dint of port wine, and beef tea, and calves'-foot jelly, and with the help of an invalid's car- riage, Lady Dyson effected her desire, and sent her safely off out of tbe house on the very morning of the day on which her son was expected to return. Nobody but her- self and Barnes, who was bribed to secrecy, knew the destination of her journey. She was gone " to the seaside," that was all the intormation bestowed upon the rest of the household. Even Mrs. Finch was kept in the dark, for Lady Dyson was determined that, untill her son was safely nuurried, he should have no chance of hearing of Lily's whereabouts. So Lily was bundled off, weak and un- equal to the move as she certainly was, and was safely landed, as we have seen, the same afternoon, in Mrs. Wilson's clean, but somewhat desolate-looking, domicile. She felt very lonely in it. She stood by the window, and looked drearify out at the melancholy yellow hillocks of sand beyond the road, and the long line of leaden- colored sea beyond them, and she felr weak and hopeless both in body and mind. The next day Mrs. Barnes w ent back to Barfield, and Lily was left alone, in a soli- tude so utter and so depressing, that she felt at first as if she should die of it. Mrs. Wilson brought up her little meals to her three times a da^, and generally lingered a few minutes to make some kind enquiries about her health, and to give her some not very exhilarating admonitions concerning the trouble she was ciueing her friends. Thus, her life went oa for a few days of unspeakable monotony and dullness, and Lily felt sometimes as it the solitude and the dreariness were more than she knew how to bear. At length, however, relief came to her in the shape of new friends, whom she was fortunate enough to find in the rector and his family. The one good-sized and pleasant-looking house in Sandyport was the Rectory. It stood near the Church, within a high- walled garden, wherein clustered the only trees to be found in the whole place. When Lily arrived at Mrs. Wilson's the lilacs and la- burnbams were just coming into flower in the Rectory-ffaraen, aud tbe Miss Nortons, the Rector's daughters, were just setting up the lawn-tennis net again, after the long dullness of the winter season. Mr. Norton, the Rector, being a placid and a good old man, was quite contented with his lot in hfe bnt Mrs. Norton and her daaghters did not appreciate the abso- lute tranquillity of Sandyport at alL Tbe dullness was unspeakable. There wa» ao neighbours, and there was no society. Marian and Katie Norton were good girls bnt they caught eagerly at the faintest and A yonng ladyâ€" and a pretty young lady tooâ€" could not have drMned down ia aiy comer of Sandyport vitUlBt a* «»ce i#ract- te«lBfRfi8oa tie ^ole of fts mbftbi; tants, and of coftJBthe Kectortlteopre were among the first to know of it. "Such a pretty girl, mammal" said Marian, excitedly. "I cangbt* aigbt^of her on the Terrace yesterday. I^^oaoer who she is â€" do let us call on her I" " Certainly we will call en her let us go to-day." Bnt Mia^ £i|iob was cnt, sitting do. the sands by ibii^ when the caHed; and so there were only a whole fiii^ht of cards awaiting her return when she came in. Bat a few days later the two sisters met her face to face, close ottside their own door. ' ' You are Miss Finch, are yon not " ask- ed Marian, holding out her hand. " Do come in and see us. How tired you look 1" " I have been ill I am not very strong yet," said Lily, accepting the invitation gratefully. They took her into the pretty garden within the bi^ wtflls, and she sat on the liedch in the a^n, ^hile they played lawn- tennis. By and by the Rector and his wife came ont and joinei them, and welcomed Lily kindly and cordially. "How do you like being at Mrs. Wil- son's 7" asked Mrs. Norton. "Does she make you comfortable?" ' Oa yes, very, thank you." " But you must find it rather dull " "It is not exactly lively," answered Lily. •• My dear, I hope you will come here as often as you like," said kind Mrs. Norton. And Lily gratefully accepted the kind in- vitation to the Rectory. She went there, indeed, every day and their constant kindn^s, and the fresh sea- breezes began at last to work favourably upon her health and spirits. One day that she came in as usual to join the twb sisters in their game at lawn-tennis, she found the whole family in an unusual state of delight and excitement. " Such a wonderful thing is going to hap- pen," explained Marian Norton to her. "A young laidy is going to stay with us." "A great friend of yours?" asked Lily politely. "Well, no, not exactly. To tell you the truth, papa was her brother's tutor before he married it was a long time ago â€" and her brother died. We only know her very slightly but she is so handsome and clever." " Yes. and so nice and pleasant too," said Katie. "And she is engaged to be married too," cried Marian; "audi do think it will be so amusing to have an engaged young lady â€" for you know Katie and I have never had any lovers ourselves." " She has had a bad attack influenza, and is ordered to the sea to get well before her marriage, and so she thought of coming to us â€" for you must know she is rather above ourselves in rank â€" so it shows how nice she is to want to come to a quiet clergy- man's family," explained Katie. " And what may her name be?" inquired Lily, without any great interest in the stranger. But the answer to the question startled her. "Her name is LadyHonoria Rosett," said Katie. CHAPTER XXVI. LOUGHTON FAIR. Once a year, and it is always in the last week in April that it takes place, there is a fair held in tbe queer little old-fashioned town of Loughfcon. The market-place for three days is filled with open stalls, where all sorts of cheap wares â€" crockery, cutlery, turnery and articles of dress â€" both mascu- line and feminine â€" are sold all day long, among tbe Babel of voices and shouts and confusion. This is the business part of the proceedings. Hard by, in a large open space on the outskirts of the town, the votaries of pleasure hold high revels from morning till night, and pretty nearly from night till momins;. Here the goods sold are more of a frivolous description â€" gaudy toys and unwholesome looking sweets, ginger- bread men and penny ices, being the chief ingredients of commerce. There is a long line of booths, wherein fat boys, three- legged ponies and performing dogs are con- stantly atsracting crowds of eager sight seers, and a merry-go-round that goes by steam, and gyrates to the tune of " Tommy make room for your Uncle," with a deafening clamor and with unceasing energy and perseverince. It will readily be imagined that at fair- time Lougbton is a place to be avoided by all decent and respectable inhabitants. The town is filled with a crowd, of the worst and most rowdy description. An immense con- course of ruffians of every kind â€" gypsies and vagrants, who never come to the surface at any other time â€" pour in from the country around, and hold high jinks for these three day of unbridled pleasure. i suppose, if tbe townspeople had taken the matter strongly in hand, the nuisance might have been put down but the fair is good for trade, and so the Lougbton authori- ties submit to the institution, and put up with its many inconveniences as patiently as they can. But amongst the neighboring gentry Lougbton fair-time is held in deep and in- dignant abhorrence, and the town is as much deserted and as carefully avoided by them as Margate at Wbitsuntide and Epp- ing Forest on Bank Holiday is by the re- spectable and peace-loving Londoner. I don't know how it came to pass that Stella King, being a stranger, tnew nothing about Loughtoo fair and as ill-luck would have it, tbe fancy came into her head to walk by herself into the .town on the after- noon of the third day of the revels. Norman was away, or she wduld" probably have be§n warned against so rash a proceed- ing but he had gone uplo town for a few days, and the time of his return was so un- certain. It 60 bappened that something was wanted lor^e dwtffations that were now in pooeas of prejp»r^ion ior the wed- dmgnext w*ek. Allrtfemimiog the two sisters and Mrs, Finch had bean working bard at soma white satin' qoilUaga, which ., were intended to wreathe: tne bannister all slenderest excitement to break the monotony the wayhpth^ Staircase, tied np at inter of their lives. v- ' i-' *-*'"'â- *""â- * â€" ' 'â€" "â- â-  Such an excitement was afiraddSI B^ the arrival of Lily Fmch at the Terraoe with the odging- houses. t^lP^^St.""'""*^- They work- ea^t ittnithey were tired, and until they had ^haiuted oUtheu^auteraK "We ahaU want at teast two dozin more â-¼agnaly to a belt of wood heyomd Se^^! yards of white satin ribbon," Mra. Finch hMUaidHiwhe«.*b6ir task came pwiprcete 2%d. Wit n^t be got at Loughta^" M io th'ltfternobn SteUa remembj^M tb» white rflin HBlSto. She had a Headache, and such an utter weariness of mind and body, that it came into her head that a w^k by-^-he*aelf vould^do berrfood. So^^e Sought sh* woald go an4 buy the nhbon herself in LooRbton. Without saymK a word to anybody, and with no recollection of the fair, which, if she had heard of, she had c^taifcW .o^^AdiMdjhe^-^ofidWW^ 1 things ttfi^hfA taeh a tkOvttf can reduce an ordinary tranquil, and dead-alive little country town, she put oii h6r hat, and sal- lied fwth alone across the fields. When, however, she got near the town, she perceived that some unwonted excite- •ment was going on. Tnere were tents cover- ed with gaudy paintings flags flying m every direction a confused sound of coarse, half -drunken merriment, and the jingling music of the interminably jjyrating merry- go-round. Stella was a little disturbed in her mmd at these indications of vulgar revelry but she was now so near the town, that it seem- ed to her a pity not to go on and accomplish her errand. She wa«, moreover, naturally grave, and not easily, daunted; it was unpleasant, of course, to have to push her way through a rough, tipsy-looking crowd but, after all, she did not imagine that they could hurt her. So she pushed on quickly and courageous- ly, looking neither to tbe right nor the left, working her way straight up tbe middle of the booths and tbe open stalls. The people fell back a little to let her pass, staring with some curiosity at the deli- cate, lovely young lady who had ventured thus unprotected in their midst. One or two men stared at her rudely, and a ragged woman shrieked after her some taunting, horrible words, of which she hardly caught the meaning, but which made her shudder with disgust. Nothing, thought Stella, should induce her to return the same^ way. She now felt sorry that she had come but there was a longer way home by which she could get back to Wrexham without coming near these horrible merry-makers again. She reached the little cbraper's shop and made her purchase the shopman seemed surpris- ed to see her, and oven made some remark about the plaice not being very orderly for ladies to walk about in. " 1 had no idea there was anything going on," said Stella, as she paid for her ribbon. "What is the matter?" "Why, it's the fair, miss â€" didn't you hear of it And a shameful state of things I call it, that respectable persons should b3 kept shut up for three days because of all these diunken vagabones. However, there is some as likes it even among them as ought to know better. You are never going to walk back, are you, miss Would you like my little lad to go with you It would be a kind of a protection like." ' ' Ob, thank you very much. No, I don't want any one, because I shall go back another way. I can get across the common to Wrexham it is a longer walk, but it will be quiet that way." The shopkeeper shook his head. " There's a many bad characters loafing about everywhere, miss. You had better let Johnny go with you. Bnt Stella declined the protection of the valiant Johnny, who was twelve years old, and £mall for his age, and decided upon ven- turing forth again by herself. She started forth across the common at a rapid pace, and soon left the town and its noisy occupiers far behind. It was a breezy, blowing day little showers scudded across the heavens, alternating with gleams of sun- shine. The common across which she walked was a wide expanse of heath and brushwood, some three miles or so in length. It was not a flit plain, but was undulated the path leading up and down a succession of little dips in the land and it was so thick- ly studded over with gorse-bushes and juniper- shrubs, that a whole army might have been concealed upcn it without betray- ing a sign of its existence until you were close upon it. Stella walked on bravely and quickly the wind blew gently in her face, flashing it a rosy red, and ruffling the soft locks of her fair hair. She looked very serious as she walked, for her thoughts were full of sad and solemn things but there was no de- spair or rebellion in her grave eyes, because she was a good girl, and she would not al- low herself to dwell overmuch upon that sad secret of her heart which only of late had been fully revealed to herself. "I lost him by my own folly," said Stella to herself " and now I have got to make the best of thingsâ€" to love them both dear- ly, and hope for their happiness, and to do my duty in tbe life that is before me. I shall live with grandpapa, as he said, and make him happy till he dies and I shall be an old maid, and make the most model of maiden aunts," and she smiled to herself a pale, sorrowful little smile that had no depth nor life in it. And then all at once she heard somebody running up behind her. Tummg round quickly, she was rather dismayed to see close to her a rough looking man in a suit of rag- ged corduroy, and a red scarf tied loosely around his bare uncovered throat. He was very dark, had wild, rough hair, and a lawless but not altogether unpicturesque appearance" "Here I stop " cried the man to her. Bat Stella, although her heart beat vio- lently, made no answer, but walked rapidly on only with a sudden impulse of selt-pre- servation she quietly slipped off her watch and the rmgs from her fingers, and the ear- rings out of her ears, and unfastened a little gold brooch at her collar, and dropped them all into the pocket of her jacket. "By this '^.^xiu °^ *^ ^â„¢e close up to her. Why didn't you stop when I caUed out to you miss?" he said, looking at her curi- ously, but not altogether uncivilly, and pant- mg loudlyâ€" be was evidently ont of breath with running after her. " You might have waited a little bit for a fellow I" fAj"""""'°' ***' ^*«lla *l»t to look mghtened or to speak roughly to this man would be fatal. Her only o£^ l»y in we- Mrying her ooo^eaa and her temper. '• I couldn't wait," she answered Quite civilly. -I am in 2 hurry to getTmJ" " mi„y?° where may yonr home be, pray. Oh how jKJor SteUa -i^«l henel iWoa't^pindHBiHV b f j k lo Bg i d e of you. â-  said the man, with a «ort of » half- «jLjiall-r««peotfoI -maoBer, lookfaw at „„ 'curiously. Probably if she bad been nlsitr«xid70^-ffij^|kd of the loveliest vision -of troifiainfooa^eiiad ever set eyes on in his life, he would not have been at the pains to be «o polite to her. "1 can't help .yon walkmg by me, of course, if jtf^i^Sk^Mtt^ Stella, keep- ing her eyes straight before her. Her .com- piiaion was staring, bard at lier, looking her up and down from head to foot. StelU felt cartain he was looking for herrings and wateh, and congratulated herself for her prompitude in hiding them. " I suppose, now, yon have never walked alongside such a rum- looking card as me in your life before, miss?" said the man, presently. " Never," answered Stella, and for all her terror, she could not help smiling. Presently the man atipped short close in front of her. " Look here " he said to her "there are three of us about here on the common, and we drew lots which should come and trap faltered •You Stella, cannot her â€" there was no In despair Stella you "What do you mean?" changing color for the first. -- â€" -- _-â-  mean to do me any harm â€" you seem a civil- spoken young man â€" I am sure you will not stop me I" He laughed. " Oh 1 1 don't know about doing you any harm. If you wasn't such a pretty lass, I'd have knocked you down behind the first green-bush long ago but you've got them pretty blue eyes and hau: just like the sun- shine on a cornfield, so that I can't find it in my heart to lay a finger on your pretty throat." Stella turned sick and cold with fear, yet she bad sense enough to know that to resent the man's rude admiration would be to bring his wrath upon herself. "lam sure you wouldn't hurt me " she said. " You look too kind and manly to ill-treat a woman with no one to protect her " He langhed uneasily. "I don't know about that," he said. " I've been sent after you to get your money and your jewellery. I know you got them somewhere about you, because I saw you slip something into you pocket as I came up but now, you look here, I'll not take them from you â€" not a thing â€" I'll go back and tell my mates you had nothing about you, if you will let me give you one good kiss." Stella uttered a faint cry of horror. " You'd better not try screaming, be- cause I've only got to whistle, and my pals will come fup directly. Now, will you or won't you " He stood close before chance for her to escjpe. empted out her pockei-i. "Take everything 1 have got ' she said, trembling, " and for pity's sake go away " Tbe man looked surprised, and even dis- appointed. A woman who would part with her jewellery sooner than submit to an insult was evidently a new expe^fthce to him. " I would sooner kiss you-than take them," he said, doubtfully, half-pushing back her out-stretehed hand. And then, in tbe tension of her over-strung nerves, and in the terror of her loneliness and helplessness, SteUa at last lost her presenc e of mind. " How dare you offer such an insult to a lady 1 I would sooner die than touch so much as your hand 1" she cried, half-frantic with fear and disgust. Suddenly, at her words, tbe evil nature of tbe man, that had been charmed for a short space to sleep by the spell of her beauty, awoke once more into life. "Oho 1 my lady 1 so that's your game, is it " he cried furiously. " Let us see whether you can show fight, you pretty pigeon " He seized her in bis arms, and dragged her roughly to him. The wild, brown face with its rough black locks and shining wick- ed eyes, was close to her. Her brain reeled, her heart almost ceased to beat, her very eyesight seemed to fail her Then close behind her a footstep upon tbe grass â€" a voice that cried out suddenly "My darling â€" I am here " A few smothered oathsâ€" a struggle â€" a blow or twoâ€" and she was free There was a swift vision of a deaily loved face above her and Stella remembered nothing more, for she bad fallen headlong on the soft grass among the gorse-bushes at Norman Ailing- ham's feet. CHAPTER XXVII. "is it too latb " ' When Stella recovered her consciousness, she found herself staring straight up at the cloud- flecked sky, whilst somebody was sprinkling water upon her upturned face. For a minute or two she could not recollect what had happened, nor make out at all where she was. "Do you feel better, Stella?" asked Nor- man, gently, and then she suddenly dis- covered that she was in the middre of Lougbton Comnaon, and that her head was supported upon her cousin's shoulder. ;She sat up blusbinj^. "He is gone away, dear dou't be fright- ened, said Norman, reassuringly; "the briite went off quickly enough when I ap- peared on the scene. I felt as if I could have kUled him when I first caught sight of him " ° \\ little distance he wodmT^ she said, aloud, follo^f*ayT«^^ °«»f.Poken thoughts, ^^""ctnj*' Cecily " he repeateH why did you thinrfi "^^ -t I you-besiues, c uldl el WhM between you?" "0'ake, SI She had risen to her fe.f v, "' ^•^JjQ^^ou feel able to ^y'bi.^ "Oh I yes. quite • Jet n. i And then tnrnin siddeRt!' V- on earth did you hannenV l'"'»' 'â- rI middle of 4ghionSâ„¢o^ ^1.4 torque me from that di^'i^il Why, that is simply 2""l"^- " just after you had left t' ^= knew where you were just after you had leTt'thTK "^^ knew where you wero l °"' n*!^ thought you hilgoln; U^"^\ membered the Pair anH l""^^^ lt\ foryoutobewalki'nnit^S whUst It was going oa Te?! "" ^«^ many of these tra,„ps ' j /^^."C So I set oat and folloKi^^P;!! 4 into the town, and to tbe draV ^4 the man there told me you t^' retnm home by the comm. "*««ikl worst place, b/ the w?v "'^«i selected to walk over by^y'oi°;,^"\^ my best leg forward, anVa, yo " '"^W fully arrived upon the scene in ?i^ "«» you from that ruffian's insult^ '""'â- 'I (TO BE contikued; When tbe Great Mississippi Bounds, BniuJ The river all through the hfwU » lipr.; embankment, thesurfice heimJu As the storm neared, ho^^^4, L^ roughened, and from far over atff souri side the wrinkles beean t ** across the surface, cleepeafug L tu " The night^workers kn^wla" Jfe^J danger, and of common consenttheymJ halting only when they reached plS the ground back of the dike^S enough to brace the earthworks It was foUowcd by another a£d anofct bosom of the old Father heaved andti«l was a long swash against the bink »^ made the earth tremble and dashed i"" up over the top of the dike. Hoevener and another reckless hbo^l stood far ont where the dike was most ml gerous, and their friends yelled to thet j t come away quick or they would becakl Almost as the warning was given theiiitl chief began, for down about the lowest i of the little valley, and just at tb fcl where the dike began to rise, the grow I suddenly gave way and a volume of m\ about the size of a barrel spra through the wall of clay and out intcial low ground. A couple of scrub oaks ra I close to the spot and the water striij^l their roots with great force was thrown iiijt I upas by a fountain. A second later ',j(| opening had increased to ten times its ;:• iginal size and the volume quicklyeiiveki;ei 1 the scrub oaks, T«vo seconds mareaiidtsfl earth all crumbled and sank dowiiin;«t gap, being carried out into the lowbii with a power that was apparently irresini' ble. Meanwhile the flood was psmit: through the gap with a roar thatcodilK heard a mile distant, and the wallsofeitiieil side were being rapidly eaten away, In lea I than ten minutes after the first small ing at the bottom of the dike appesrei, there was a gap about 200 feet wlde,tl which a volume of water twelve fee was running. This had continued for tn hours, and an immense roaring river ra I moving through wheat fields aad ppat« patehes two miles away, when a secosujip a hundred yards further south, opened witt a roar, and added a second flood to ae first. Tbe workmen stood and wsichec the sublime scene for a time, and then thej began to hurry off in ones and twos to ai- ry news of the break to tbe anxious pecp. inland. Tbe London Flunky. ' W. J. Stillmansays in "Chara«teriiti:!oi London," m the October Century: ' loW intonation of the low-toned commana'JU! highest expression of that incommnmeawt indescribable, and, except by gcneratioMft cultivation, unattainable quality « high breeding. In the reply to it is t» perfect antithesis in breeding, ffWO" ought to call fowâ€" the profound, unquesjw ing, and unhesitating prostration W set the traditional hereditary '°"°r' w ciplined like a soldier, who, 3s hi3 im* never permits himself to express a oisi ing emotion, never allows himelj w s F^,, sion of surprise or a word ot coraa^ whose self-command is as great as m ter'sâ€" perhaps greaterâ€" a well app^^ statue, save when an order is given bows and deference for his masters n graduated/by the distant at, are graduated by the they sit from tbe bead of man creature that sees nothing, ^°y"' thing, and believes nothing ""^^J^tno* ter does not expect him to see ^^^ and believe who, if he thinks oi at all, never dreams that it can oe i ' thing for hU master and bimseli " to meet his father and grandiaw â-  great-grandfather in the serN-anw ,^ that celestial abode where his m^^ tbe family for countless ge°«f^" bisi" dwell in their mundane s'^*'^® ',. „( Divei could no more take in the paf ° " uj. and Lazarus than the laws of ^^P^ the most insensate chartist or rao.o^^ never inspire in him ^^y.^°.„r\ anything beyond butler in his mas« sion." Why didn't you deliver t^a' "^jf h« I nave it to you stui«d servant. "I did the sir." "You did the best you c yon "â€" imitating his voice ^^ best could. jconii sir, iny8«' ilf." But Stella was not thinking of the va- grwit who had given her such a fright. She had but tbe dimmest recollection of bis coarse words and his rough gestures. She ♦as quite safe now, and not in the least fnghtenedâ€" only what ahe was thinking now was, that it was Norman's voice thu bad called out to her. '•My dwrlingâ€"My darling T Norman, who wu to be married to her sirter next weekâ€" Norman, who had oaUed her by that sweetest, tenderest, and least to be nustaken name in the English buiguaae. My darling I he had oaUedSr. Ah IwSTt « J!f^\*i^r ?* K^«w "»»â-  in the depth of poor SteU^;. heart when she remembei^ it 1 Ah 1 oooU itbe pomble, th«t he loved har, andnotCeci^? ' ^\i^ J*«nT5«roMupienoe amote her, and donned wt but God wouia ^^ ^^ almo.t«ttfcea«memnmte«heaeemedtoae^^- .. ..:,j..n w .. the meuiiDg of hia words. WaaitnotS 2«*h»t .he.«iMi Cwily w« ^m^ •hk«-ho h^ oome ufi behind hw; at. ,oali| to I did 'look- 'Pshaw If I had known that ing a donkey I would have gone ^^^ U Other natrons pray for raio as ^^^ a season of great drought mfe" ^\^ master.' at the head 01 his puP^ „y for ont of Schairaz '^^ ^^"'i^lec^lil^ rain. Aj*ranger asked ^whi^'Jjiij^" goiwj. The tutor told hi"" f J,^ to «»• Vnot but God would Usw?_h„n*« .j««« of innocent cbildre lend," said the traveller. DOS VJUii "â€"â-  „ 'ilVB"' t»rayer» of innocent chi dren. ^je^ friend," said the traveller, 1' "^..^imistf «aaet I fear there would be no c ihojl" left aUMif m