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MRS. GARFIELD ALONE WITH HER JEAD. The Writer of the following simple tribute to the late President Gurueld knows that Wiser heads and ubler pens will mt banter them her- self “ render iu poem some expressions of 0m sympathy as Canadians in the late melancholy occurrence.” {his only in accordance with nu- merous requests from both sides of the horde? that she lays these lines before her friends. It was a year,George remembered, since he had first seen Lucy Thrale. _ Then it was Christmas again, and the balls were ringing across the snow out at Green Knowe as they had rung when he walked across the fields with her to church on that hagpy Sunday._ _. . â€" . a â€"â€"rr.: N "i "" There was a brooding shadow of unhappi nees over his home, to which the young man tried bravely to shut; his eyes. Nothing could have been kinder or more steadfast and manly than his behavior to his wife. He repeated to himself that she was not to blame ~that, since he had chosen to keep silence and to make her his wife, it was his duty to see that she at least did not suffer for another’s misâ€" taken sacrifice. But, when the spring was breaking again in the old square gardens, and George March's little son was born, Lucy hoped that a. hapr pier state of things would begin for the fam ily, and that. the cradle in the house would draw them all closer together. CHAPTER L. When Mrs. March began to get about ngmu, the freshness of early summer was on the little town and the old square gardens. It seemed to Lucy, in her brave hopeful mass, that life might be beginning anew for them all; but after a. while it became evident that Ada’s old restlessness or discontent was lurking under all the young mother’s pretty forced smiles, and that she was living not in the tranquil present with her husband and her baby and her simple round of duties and pleasures, but in some vague future, which we more real as well as more absorbing to her than the actual people and things by which she was surrounded. Lucy wondered with a passionate wonder that Ada. could not be happy with her been tiful boy, in whose nursery she herself spent such long delightful hours. The Chill terror that had struck to the girl’s heart on her return from Grooms seized her again as she noticed her cousin’s gentle ind fference to the little fellow's baby smiles, and her increasing depression when George was not by to see it. “ Ada. is not quite strong again," Lucy thought, uneasy, searching for excuses for her cousin. “ When she is she will take more notice of baby and be more cheerful. She is happyâ€"oh. surely she must be happy !” she would cry sometimes with sudden anguish. " She loves George. and he is good and true. His goodness is wonderful. I have never hen-d him speak an unkind word. I am sure he has not a. thought. that is not generous and loyal and manly. Oh, surely Ada at least must. be happy I" It. bewildered her toieee that. the restlessness and discontent Were on Ada's side and not. on George’s, who had such goed cause for unhappiness. ' Coming home from her work out; of doors, her heart still thrilling kindly with the re- membrance oi glad child-voices, of vim eyes brightening as she drew near to sick beds. of hungry mouths fed, and of cruel pains soothed, Lucy would be met with Ads‘s smiling stifled yawns and listless attitudes, and would feel that they were almost more than she could hear. It was cruel. she felt, to see George’s wife dissatlsfied, longing vaguwly for the unattain able, when she already possessed what would have made life so beautiful to other women. and for which they would gladly have given the Whole world besides. Oqu _u fewfigrief \vegks‘hnvg past Lucy had known what it was to look bright and indlfierent, with a very sad and sorry heath, for poor George’s sake ; but why need Ada, who had her desire, make any efiort to seem happy 7 And a noble man took oath, To God and to his country's sous‘ 'Duty to do to both. All! who of all that trusty band. " She loves George!" the girl inSIated, with a new access of terror. “ She told me she did. It is only that she is not quite strong tgain. It can be only that.” Once she spoke to Ada very timidly, and with a. burning face. and tried to find out nhe reason of her long continued apathy. Ada laughed and yawued. " It is the Barlaston air," she said gally. “ I feel as if I were stifling in this little place‘” “ But it is your home I" cried Lucy, turning very white. Your husband lives here-lintle George will grow up here." Un [er the eagle's plumé. Could dream that in so short a time Their chief should ask a tomb. Banners are floating half-mast high- Emblems of grief and woe Droop down from pillar, roof and arch Dirges are mourning low, And thousands of the free-born pass With ceaseless, HUiSbIOBS trend, To see their nation’s blighted hope, The pale face of their dead. “ Pray don’t utter any such dismal prophe- cies, dear Luoy,” protested Mrs. March, 31ml ing. “ Why should you suppose anything so hopeless ?" “ Where do you want to go 3” she asked abruptly. “ How could you bear to leave this dear old home where George has lived so long 1": The Doctor‘s wife raised her blond eye- brows in calm amusement. “ It is a dear old house,” she said lightlyâ€"r “ a very dear old house! I have been th1uk~ ing that a little villa at Green Knows would not cost half as much; and, if we moved there, we should be near Grooms, and haw some probability of decent society now and than. I shall talk senously of in to George. He could have his consulting room in town, and go in and out by rail. The country air, I am sure, would be better for baby." imcy looked at her cousin, with fright in her blge eyqs. But hush! keep silence, mighty hosts Guards, close the sacred door. And leave the living and the dead Together, just. once more. Until the fond Wife bids farewell Unto her loved and lost ; 0 mighty nutioul what to her Hath been this priceless cost' Knights Templar with chair swords at rth Have laid their tribute down, And the glorious crass of M tltfl fades For him who wants 11. crown. And the dead man’s comrades thro’ the war ' In heaven's own whiie and blue, Have left their ” old commander" signs of their allegiance true. And fair, all beautiful with love, Avuid that mournful scene, Stands that pure circle of White leaves, From Christian Englwud’s Queen. Oh! blessed bonds hat bind two realms In one unsevered chain: Two women's he «.rtshavn forged strong links, Arching the rolling main. For good Victoria, too, hath drank Of that embittered cu , Which now her widowe sister holds And to the dregs drinks up. Oh! breaking hearci lie is not dead, He 1:4 not gone so far. Loo ‘( up! your people comfort you, Behold “ the gates ajar." Ah] breathe that solemn, last farewell. But onlv f r a time: “ Asleep in Jesus,” he hath woke In Christ’s own glorious clime, And burning words of hope and love, Worda of the Christian faith, Hymns of the Christian, over him. Full many a fond lip saith. The world in sorrow stands appalledâ€" ‘Sons of the stripes and stars, Ye mourn as one Elisha mourned. To see the golden cars. But children, mother, wife, beloved, Ohl these are words Lhat fall. And in your true and loyal hem ts 'I‘o tender memories call. Why should it be? Hush,strickeu ones, God has His own right Way, And what to us seems dark and strange Shall all be bright some day. Oh! widowed heart! Chlist comfort thee, For all beneath the sod; Oh! vast heart of America, Keep strong your faith in God. A GREAT MISTAKE. HARRIET ANNE “ Oh, Geordie is thriving aplendidly l" said Lucy. “ And I am afuid George would not hke to leave Gown, Ada. Would it not make his work all the harder ?” his work all the harder ?” ” Dpar George likes Whatever I like" r0- plied Ada gemly ; “ andllxke only What; is for his good, as you know." But, when Mrs. March did mention the subject one evening to her husband, she found him for once Very unwilling to accede to her fancy. He explained that his expenses just then were already as heavy as he could very well support. and that the rent of their house, roomy and cnmmodious as they found the old place, was, on account of the anti, quated situation, very moderate inde d. The furniture too, which he had bought for amere song from old Doctor Feutherstone, would be sadly out of place in the bright modern villa. on which his wife had set her heart ; and he did not feel justified for the present in in - curring the expenditure which a removal ‘would certainly entail. r “ Try to be happier here for a. time, my dear." the young man said kindly, “ and I promise you that as soon as I can afford it you shall make the change you desire.” He explained further that his step mother was a. serious drain upon him, now that her children were growing up. and needing to be helped on their way in the world. “ Indeed. deer George, you work far too‘ hard I” said Ada, kissing him lightly on the forehead. “ Add 1 have often wanted to speak to you about your stepmother, I am sure you will not mis understand my motive in doing so. You know, dear, it was all very well to make her a. handsome allowance and to charge yourself with the education of her children while you were single ; but, now that you have an expensive little wife. and a little son of your own to think of, it seems to me that you have a very good excuse for Withholding fur- ther supplies." “ But you see," returned George gently. “she is quite alone in the world. and she has always looked to me for help since my father died. I could not forsake her now because I am so happy at! to have a home and clearer ties." “ Dear George." murmured his wife, again kissing his forehead, “you are always so good.” 7 7 H Mrs. March continued however to bemoan the necessary size of their house and the un- necegsary egpenae it 1qu I30 in many ways. “ I Wish George could be induced to give it up." she sighed In her confidential talks with Mary Throgmorton. “ And I wish that we could delicately suggest to good Mrs Butters that I am quite capable of managing our simple establishment myself. She is a faith, ful creature, I dare say ; but Ido not think she need be quite so obtrusiver devoted to George She always seems to be consumed with a nervous dread that I shall neglect his tastes and Wishes. My dear old stupid Georgeâ€"as if I wouldl Lucy is the 9111) person besides ‘the master’ to Whom the old dame conde- scends to be decently civil.” “You cannot thinkI would suggest it! " cried Ada prefitily; " I do not see indeed,” agreed Mrs. Throgâ€" morton. “ that you have any need for a house- keeper now. But George is so fond of old faces, I suppose he woulJl not hear of parting with Batters.” “ And very sweet. it is of you, my love,” said the kind woman, beaming at the pale young matron ; “ but I always think young married folk are best alone; and, if Lucy can find a. home of her own, it will be better for all parties." “ I do not understand.” Ada. lifted her large eyelids and searched her friend's face. Mrs. Throgmortou was evidently full of a new idea. She confessed now that she had heard from Mrs. Ackroyd that the Renter’s attentions to Miss Thrale had become very marked during the young lady’s last few visits to Croome. “ Oh. dear L'ucy‘s home is with me, of course I” interposed Mrs. March quickly. “ I have always insistegi on that with Gegn‘gexlI “ And, its for'Lucy,” her friend went on, with a meaning little nod. The kindly matchmaker felt that Lucy had behaved remarkably well in the matter of her cousin‘s marriage, and that she deserved a reward. And no reward could be more appropriate 31am such a. handsome and agreeable husban as Mr. Olifaunt would make, in spite of his five-audâ€"forty years. to say nothing of the charming. quaint old Rec- tory, with its gables and dormer windows, its wonderfully trim garden and hot houses, the fruit of which was famous for miles around. “ Gould anything be nicer? ” demanded Mary Throgmorton, with emhueiaem. “ It would be a splendid merrlage l” “ But is it very probable ?" asked Ada,who looked a. little pale. ‘- The Rector is one of the Olifaunts. you know. dear Mrs. Throgi morton. and will doubtless expect his wife to come of an equally good (amily, even if she brings him no money.” “ My love, Mrs. Ackxoyd thinks he is very serious in his intentions. His mother has called more than once while Lucy was at Croome. Really she is a. very lucky girl 1 She would be quite in society as Mrs. Oli- faunt â€"one of the county families, as you may say.” One day not long after this, Lucy was in the nursery minding the baby while the nurse went down to her dinner. She was bushing him to sleep as she softly paced the room, holding the little velvet cheek to her own, and singing a drowsy tune in the sun shine, when Mrs. Batters came in, and said that the Doctor wanted to speak to Miss Lucy in the study. Lucy was startled. It was the first time George had ever sent for her. She never went. into his room, except to dust it in the morning before he came downâ€" stairs. The young man was standing at the win dow ; but be turned with a. start and a some- what. forced smile as she entered the study, ahd pulled forward mohair for her. “ Sit down. child,” he smd kindly. ~- I want to have a talk with you." Dr. March spoke with an effort. The words he had to say would possibly mauve him to lose her who had been as bright as sunshine to him in many gloomy hours. He felt however that it was a duty that must he done. Mr. Olifaunt, the rector, had spoken to him of his regard for Lucy. and his desire to make her his wife, and George now spoke to her freely of the ofier. Lucy started up, coloring violently. “ Oh, George,” she cried indignantly, what could have put, such aâ€"suoh a ridiculous noiion into his head?” ‘ 15' it so very ridiculous ‘3" asked poor George. “ Of course it is," protested the girl, with sweet angry eyes. “ Why. Mr. Olitaunt is quite pldfiâ€"oldenpugh pa be my: (35116: L” “ My dear, Olifaum is a. good fellow, in the prime of his life,” George said steadily. ‘* I think any Woman is fortunate who wins hm regard.” “Yes, you can, if you will,” she urge}, with a tearful smile. “I am very muvt obliged to Mr. Olifauut ; but I do not want to marry any one, and him less that any one else, I think.” “ I did not mean to be ungrateful." Luey hung her head, blushing. “ But,“ she broke out again impetuously, “ I have the dearest home in the world already. I don’t want to go away, unless you and Ada. send me.” -“ Not even that man you once told me of." he asked in a. somewhat unsteady voiceâ€" “ the man who has your heart, Lucy ‘2” She shook her head, coloring painfully. ” That is all over." she said. "Please do not speak of it again." Sue got to the door. “ You do not. want me any more, George ? " she asked, smiling and look- ing back at. him. “ We have had our talk outâ€"about Mr. Olifaunt, I mean? ” “ Not quite,” he answered. “You had bet- ter think of his offer, child. Sleep on It, and givAer me ap_apsvtl_er it} the mqming." There was a pause. George had taken up the paper-knife again; he did not look at, Lucyrwheu he spoke. ' She nodded cheerfully and went away... If her heart was beating and her hands were trembling, half and hour’s quiet in her room I “ Ydu must g6 some day, I suppose, child We qgnnot hope to kqu you always.” would take all that. away. George bad start- led her by referring to that old untruth which she had thought buried out of hearing for ever. “ Why do wm‘xn have to pretond so mucH in Lueirlivua ? ” she wondered sadly. “ Would it really be better, as men say, if they told everythmg straight out, without considering the trpuble it might cause? " " What can you want? " said Mrs. March wearily, when she heard of Lucy's final an- swer to Mr. Olifaunt. “ The Rectory is a perfect dream of a place I You would be in the best mommyâ€"actually among the county people! ” H-But I do not care for Mr. Olifaunt," said Luolsimply, though with q blqsh. “ Every one cannot make love-matches," replied Mrs. Match. with smiling impatience. “Lucy, you are a. foolish girl ; you will think better of it.” " No.” Lucy said; “ I W111 stay here as long as giqu and George will havg Vmelfl Mrs. March lifted her shoulders in the faintest little shrug. " I think people never know when they are well 03," she said. sighiug as she turned away and flung herself on the sofa. “ I hoped for dear George’s Bake, Lucy, that you would have been more sensible.” " For George’s sake S” repeated Lucy, startled, and making a little clatter among her c_ups and 8900118. _ “ I Hon’t uuZlerstand you, Ada." the girl said, fixiqg her blue eves wustfully on her face. “ The thing is evident enough however,” returned Mrs. March with gentle coldness. “ The poor fellow is always complaining of his expenses, and he works far too hard, Lucy. He is keeping three families really 1 [hoped you would have considered him a little ” “ George would not. ask me to marry a man I did not carefor,” said Lucy. blushing painfully. “ But indeed I think it is time that I began to work for myself.” ” You know perfeccly well that Georgeâ€" that we could not permit that l” answered her cousin somewhat impatiently. “ I supâ€" pose things must only go on as usual. I am sure I don‘t know how to tell him about these m1serable bills 1” She took a little roll ot papers from her pocket as she spoke, and opened them on her lap. aighing. “ Bills," cried Lucy, with a sinking at her heart , “ Oh, Ada, for what ‘2” And then it came out that money troubles had had something to do with Mrs. March‘s long continued depression. The bills for the greater part of her trousaeau had been coming in by degrees, and she had not a. penny to meet them. “ Of course I intended to pay them out of my own money.” she explained wearily. “But that has always been absorbed by the house- hold expenses. It would not have done to tax dear George too heavily on account of my family.” ‘ Lucy made an eagerw exclamation, then checked herself, and began to think with an anxious face. When she had first gone to live in George’s house. she had felt that it would be imposslble for her to remain with her cousin unless she was allowed to contrib- ute something towards the household ex- penses, and she had spoken frankly on the subject to Ada. Ada had laughed at first, and then. when Lucy still persisted, had up peared a. little wounded. “Idid not think you were so proud, dear!" she said reproachfully. “Have I not always said that your home should be with me 1’" But Lucy had declared that it would make her feel a. great deal more oomfoatahle if Ada would take half her little income. “ George need naver know anything about it,” she said hurriedly ; “and I shall still have more than enough for my clothes." And so it had finally been settled. There- fore now, when Lucy ran for her little purse and emptied it into Ada’s lap. begging her to pay the bills and not to look so pale and wor- ried any more, it was found that the help she could ofl'er was by no means sufficient. The girl stared and turned pale when she learnt the amount of the debts. She was thinking of the kind fellow who worked for them all, and how it was 11an his broad willing shoulders that this new but- den was to fall. ” I dare say it looks very tremendous to you, dear Lucy,” said Mrs. March. smiling. " I wish you could see what other women are doing every day. Of course I could not come to my husband in rags. It was absolutely impossible to do wi‘h less than I ordered for my humble lime trousseau.” " 0h, Ada !" was all she could any, in a. heart stricken voice. “ 0h, Ads. tell (reorge !" she exclaimed at last. ” He always said it was best to tell the truth, no matter how disagreeable, and not to be afraid. If you tell him I am sure he won’t be angry; and you will not have to worry any more." Mrs. March smiled again. “ My dear Lucy,” she said, not unkindly, " do you really suppose I need advice as to my conduct towmds my husband? If I keep any harmless secrets from George, it is for his sake. you may be sure. I must tell him" â€"1aughing lightlyâ€"“how enthusiastic you you were on he behalf." VLuoy did not answer; she was thinking with 7311 he; might what would be best to do. Lucy was silent. but the hot color rushed to her face as she left the room. From the window on the great square landing she saw the nurse walking up and down the sheltered gardens of the square with the baby in her arms. She stood for a moment to watch them both ; and just then she saw the Doctor coming towards the house. He was walking and he caught sight of the baby’s white cloak through the trees, and crossed over to the iron gate to call the nurse. He looked warm and dusty and walked as if he were tired. Lucy watched him as he stooped down to look at the little fellow’s face and to kiss it ; and then she turned away, and the old bitter pain was in her aching throat as she went upstairs. She knew afterwards that some of the bills, at least had been pald. George took no holiday at. all that year ; he smiled and said he could not find time. He had made arrangements to send 1118 wife, with the baby and the nurse, to Salnsea for a few weeks, leaving Lucy with Mrs. Ludlow, who was not equal to the exertion of the journey. But Ada. declined to go. “ While dear George has such heavy burdens on him. the least we can do is to stay and share them,” she said to her cousin. Lucy blushed at this implied reproach, and the word or two which Ada had let fall about George’s expenses haunted the girl like a pain. She cOJld hardly sleep at night for thinking of them and regretting the money she had spent during the past year. It had not been spent on herself ; she had wanted nn new clothes. and had felt free to lay it out an poorer girls than herself, and to indulge herself in the new delight of giving ; but naw it was evident that she must spend no morel except what was absolutely necessary. She even determined to give up her reading and practising, and to devote her spare time to writing a successor to “ Ethel Delamere‘s Atonement." She laughed at herself and at what she wrote, but she persevered ; and often old Batters, coming in to tuck her in bed and put out her light. would find the girl scribbling at her writting table. with flushed cheeks and bright wakeful eyes. “ You must not sit up so late, my denrie," the good woman would say, as she brushed out Miss Lucy’s bright hair and braided it up for the night. “ You’ll be losing your roses â€"a.nd that would be a pity.” But the story was finished and ready to send away before 10_ng. One morning, when Lucy began to dust the Doctor's study, she noticed a. drawer in hlfl writing-table which had been left wide open all night, and George’s keys hanging from the lock. She was about to shut the drawer and put the keys in her pocket to return to him at breakfast when something caugh‘ her eye. It was her own handwriting on aroll of paper. She recognised it in an instant. It was the manuscript of “ Ethel Delnmere‘e Atonement." Of course she knew then that George had been her editor, and that the five-pound note of which she had been so proud had come out of his kind pocket. Lucy shut the drawer and locked it. and went on arranging the table quietly, though great heavy tears were falling all the while on the open German book which the Doctor had been reading when he was called away. And after breakfast she went up stairs and burned her story Summer was drawing to a close. Nearly every one was away. The town was at its very dreariest, as Mrs. March declared to her‘ mother and Lucy. Even Croome was shuti up, and the Ackruyde were ofi to the Con- tinent, to some bathe which had been recom mended for Mr. Ackroyd’e rheumatism. Ada used to yawn until the tears ran down her cheeks as she lay on the sofa in her shady drawing room. too listless even to work at her embroidery. Bee had tried very hard .to carry Lucy off to Saltsea with her, but Lucy had declared that she must remain at home. “ Saltaea 1 Good Heavens !” Mrs. March cried, wlnh a. shudder. " Why should one go to such a place ? In Barlaston at least one can yawn unobaerved. Do you suppose Bee plays on the beach wiuh a. spade and a bucket. Lucy ? There is nothing else to do there, I am sure.” Doctor March came in one evening and told his wife that Jack Throgmorlzon was gomg to India. He had just met William I‘hrogmorton. who had told him the news. " The firm has ofiered him 9. capital chance, owing to the sudden illness of a. fellow clerk, who was about to sail. He will have a good berth in their brunch at Bom- bay. It will be a. very good thing for the boy ; and his people are glad that he should go for a. time." “ Poor Jack I” said Lucy, heartily. “ Shall we see him before he sails ‘2" asked Ada. carelessly. ” No," the Doctor answered. He was rum- maging for a book, and speaking in an absent staccato fashion. “ It is quite sudden. I believe he will start within a week." A day or two later Lucy, on going into the drawing room to join her cousin, saw that. she was not alone. Some one was bold ing but by both her hands and talking very rapidly as he stood with his back ‘0 the door. Mrs. March broke into a. little laugh and drew away 1191' hands. " Here is Lucy," she said gaily. “ Lucy, have you forgotten Jack ‘2" The young fellow turned round. “ Oh, have you come down after all, Mr. Jack ?” cried Lucy, cordially. “ I am so glad! Now you can see the baby before you go to India." The lad looked broader,older, more at ease. His gray garments were well made and be coming. his dark moustache had arrived at maturity. Jack laughed, but he reddeued too. as shook hands with Miss Thrale. “ Of course I must see the baby," said. “ I will go and bring him down,” Lucy said. “ He has just come in from his walk. He is such a splendid little fellow. Mr. Jack ; and his name is George Robert Victor.” “ There 15 no hurry?" put in baby’s mam- ma. smiling at the gi:l’s enthusiasm. “ And men don’t; care for babies, I am afraid.” “ Geordie is not likev other babies,“ ex‘ claimed Lucy proudly. “ Suppose you give us some tea, dear Lucy," Mrs. March suggested. as she wheeled forward a low chair for her visitor. “ Jack can see baby toâ€"morrow. he is not going away after all, it seems." “ Not going away ? You are nut going to India?” asked Lucy in amazement. “ No,” returned Jiwk, reddening again ; have changed my mind." Mrs. Throgmorton was secretly relieved by her son’s decision. She had dreaded the thought of the voyage and the long separa tion. It was not for that, she told her has band, that she had nursed the boy through the diphtheria. But Tom Throgmorton looked grim. and gave it as his opinion that Jack would be safer at sea. or in India. than idling his time away in a place like Barlaston. Another of the clerks in the Minoing Lane office went to Bombay in Jack Throgmorton’r place. and the young fellow received an in- timation from the head of the firm that his services would thenoeforth be dispensed with altogether. “ Indeed it would have been wiser," 115- sented the Doctor’s wife gently. “ I have been scolding Jack for his last freak ; but he does not seem very penilent. He declares that he wants to see a little more of the world before undergoing banishment to India." Doctor March too declared that it was high time the boy settled to something or other, and that, if he had gone to Cambridge only to get into debt for Horses and wine-parties. he had better have stuck soberly to his desk, like his brother William. ton “ Oh, but he speaks of returning to London shortly.” “ How much better ofi will he be there, idling away the best years of his life. picking up a little sham philosophy and fashionable slang, and a host of bad habits, and fanoying himself a man of the world before he is able to earn his own living? No, Ada. You talk to the buy. if you have any influence over him, and send him about his business. J rush is a good lad enough, but he lacks ballast ; and, if I were you, I would not encourage him in dawdling about your drawing room.” Ada. raised her calm eyes from the anti~ maoassar on which she was embroidering an artistic bunch of bla‘ckberrles in crewels, and watched her husband’s face as he paced up and down the room with his hands in his pockets. “ Dear George,” she said softly, “ if you haveAqqy quecligg to his gaming Abateâ€"«4’7 “ Objection ? None in the world," declared George, staring a little in his turn. “ Idon’c see that his coming here can make much difference â€"â€"I mean that he ought not to be in Berlaaton at all, sponging bu his fahher, and making that sweet mother of his un» happy. He has cost them both enough already.”r Even Lucy could not accuse Jack of being stupid. He talked with great eagerness and animation. and repeated all the gossip of the London season with quite an air of authority; he gave an elaborate description of the reignâ€" ing beauty, whom he professed to find less beautiful than was asserted, and brought Mrs. March a heap of the latest photographs of this lady and o( her rivals for the golden apple. After that. being convinced apparently that her husband did not object to Jack's pres ence. Mrs. March began to see even more of the boy, and seemed to have admitted him to the post, left vacant since the days of Edgar Bryer. 'it was evident he had not neglected his opportunities. How he had found time to become so well acquainted with so many high sounding names, with the famous pictures of the year. and with the various comedies that had been produced at the themera he did not explain, nor did Mrs. March inquire. “ Nonsense 1" Ads cried, with a smile and a sigh as she pushed away the photo graphs which she had been eagerly scmtinis ing. “ I am an old married woman nowâ€"I shall never go back I But you will of course. It is right that you should. And then I shall be very lonely again, but very glad that you are domg what will please your mother best." Jack did not seem in any hurry to go. He contrived to upend his time very agreeably. It. was enough for her that she could again talk with some one who was fresh from London. and be assured that not at Good~ wood, or at Covers, or in the Park, had he seen any woman with whom she need feet to compete when her time came to return to the world she haq left three years before. find he begins by coming back to Burlas‘ CHAPTER LI “I He rode a good deal, and fished, and read a great many novels, over which he smoked a. great many excellent cigars. Sometimes be me: Mrs. March’s pony carriage on the leafy made outside the town, where Lucy. who We» once more her cousin’s companion, had begged Ada. to drive; and very often he joined the famlly group in the old house in the square. dining there sometimes. sometimes coming in there later for a stroll in the dusky garden under the elm trees. or a little music, or to read aloud to Mrs. Maruh and Lucy while they worked, after the lamp had been lit. and George was shut up in his study. There werétimes whenâ€"he sat with' Mrs. Match alone, and the conversation seemed to flow more treadilyr th_en Lugy was {Jot by: Sometimes he walked with her to the park, and they spent the afternoon strolling about together under the trees. Janet Bryer met them once or twice as she trudged along the outlying streets of the town in her thick boots, and with her basket on her arm, and she mentioned the circumstances to her mother and to one or two friends. It was very dull at home just then, Jack complained. Bee’s piano was hardly ever to be heard; his mother’s time was altogether taken up in adoring and ministering to her only daughter. Jack professed himself unable to undezstnnd the change that had come over his sister, who used to be quite the jolliest girl iu tine worlsi.‘ v “ If she cared for Ted Aokroyd, why did she send him away .9" he said to Mrs. March one evening, when they had come in from their drive and Lucy was up stairs in the invalid’s room. The drawing room windows were open to the old square gardens. Ade, in a. pretty toilette of some blue clear stufi, was sitting near one of them at work in 9. low chair, and Jack had perched himself on the broad Window sill just above her flaxen head, where he sat with one hand in his pocket and the other thoughtfully stroking Nim’ohe’s fat sleek back. “ And if she didn't, you know, Mrs. March why shoal}! ghe_lgol_x go miserapr about_ it if" “ Why indeed I” Ada answered, smothering a. sigh. “ Why do any of us make mistakes, Jack, and repent them when it is too late ? What can a women do when she begins to realise that her life is over before it has well begun, and not only her own perhaps, but She paused abruptly. “ But some one else’s 1’" suggested Jack, hls voice dropping almost to 9. whisper. “ Women do not care for that, I think. They are all cruel, Mrs. Marchâ€"every one.” The Dootdr’a wife lifted her eZyes from her embroidery and looked with gentle reproach at thie boy‘s agitgted (fee, 7 r Jack’s veins were thrilling Wi‘h excitement. This was a. man’s life indeed that he was entering upon. Boys had nothing to do with such scenes as this ; he felt that he had done well not to go to India. “ Do ybu as} that. Jack ?" she added. “ I thought that you at least could judge us better.” " I must believe what I see." Jack returned in the same constrained low voice. “ Women take a. fellow’s love and play with it and cast it aside. What is that but cruelty ?" “Sometimes suoh cruelty is the best kindness a. poor woman has to bestow. Wouid you have her harm the man she loves, Jack. by estrauging him from his friends and bringing poverty to his hearth? Ah. no! Not if she cares for him. She will rather go on suffering and enduring herself. A little pain more or less to a. woman in this worldâ€"whm does it mat~ tar?" It was like a scene from a modern comedy â€"-the artistic drawingâ€"room, the open win dows giving a. pretty glimpse of evening skies and waving trees ; the young man in his well-cm London clothes, the graceful women at her work-basket, withe her skirts skilfully arranged, and speaking her silvery little speeches. “ Whm ii; that but cruelty t?" be repeated fixing his dark young gaze on his com- panigm’s} downcast face: Alitcle tremor passed over it, than the soft lines hardened wnh an evident effort after self-control. She answered him with gentle coldness. “ One finds it hard to behave in the devo tion that takes such strange shapes,” the boy returned, shrugging his shoulders, but speak~ ing in spite of himself with suppressed agita- tion. “ The grief that consoles Itself by marrymg another man, for instance -»- you can hardly except the â€"the fellow who has been refused to appreciate so great a sacrifice I i’ “Yes,” Mrs. March deelared â€"snd in her earnestness she let her work fall into her lap, and sat looking up at him with clasped hands ~â€"“ If he remembers that only on the other side perhaps of such a gulf as marriage does the women feel safe from her own weakness. What can she do? I ask you again. When friendsâ€"parents â€"are urging her, when she knows that the desire of her bean can never be fulfilled, why should‘not. she seek oblivion in the calm round of home-duties which swsit her by that other man’s fireside ‘2 It will not be happiness, but as least she may find eon- tentment there in time.” Mrs. March was silent, but she half turned away and began with quiekened breathing to examine the pattern 01 her embroidery as it lay upon her knee. “ 0: say she finds it," hazarded the boy in a vyispgy, flushing to the roots, of big hair. A 7‘ ids,” Jack went on feverishlyâ€"and for an instant he touched the slander hand that. was nearest himâ€"" Ada, Iâ€"â€"«â€"-” But the next moment he started back hastily, resuming an upright position ; for the door was flung open and Doctor March came in, carrying his little son. and followed by Lucy and a servant with tea. â€" The little fellow had his tiny fists tangled in George’s brown beard. and was tuggmg at. it with all his mighn and main. Lucy’s blue eyes were laughing at hlm over his father’s broad shoulders. " Geordie has some to see mamma. ” said the Doctor. holding the baby with mam culine olumsiness in his strong and tender arms. Jack started up, looking considerably an‘ noyed. ” What. are all these new idms," she asked lightlyâ€"” slippers and babies in my druwA ing room? I think I must fine you, dear George A!" " So thoughtful of you. dear Lucy !" murv mured Mrs. March, prettily. as she guided her husband‘s arm into the arm hgle 01 his jackgt. '4 7‘ I must be going,” he said, taking out his watohnhe shook hands as he ‘spoke whh Gag-go; “ I had no ideg 1p wag so late.:’ The dreamy repose of the hour and the scene had been dispelled with a breath. The room was full of nothing now but baby talk and laughter and the most commonplace jokes and kisses. “ Is that boy going to idle all his life away ?" cried the Doctor, wi‘h lazy scorn as the door closed behind him. “ Ada. why don't you send him to the rightabout ‘2" “ You must not be too hard on poor Jack.” Ada said, smiling ; and than Lucy came back. bringing George's gray shooting jacket and his slippers, in which it rested him to lounge about for a while before going m dress for dinner. His wife stood up to help him on with his coat. “ IV thought George looked tired," said Lucy, hurriedly. “ It was to save him going downstairsâ€"” “ Don’t let baby frighten you away, Jack." said Mrs. March, smiling. and laying aside her work. “ This is quite against the rules, and he is going back to the nursery. Naughty papa X You know the drawing room is for hidden ground for this young gentleman. We must keep one place in the house Bate against you two baby worshipers. Please, dear Lucy, ring for nurse.” Bu: Lucy had baby in her arms already. ‘- Geordie will come with me." she said, mortified. "' I did not know Mr. Jack was here." The little talk in the window was efl‘eotu- any silenced. George looked so moody as Lucy carried off the child and dropped so wearin into a chair thm voung Trogmorton took the hint and said “ Good-bye.” “ Look out for the lining !" cried George smiling. " My old friend is wearing out at lash.1 am afraid. I pu“ my arm inbo the wrong place last night. Oh, I see, you have mended 25, Ada ! Thanks, dear, for minkâ€" ing of it. I have a Weakness for this old coat?!" " No doubt it was dear Lucy who did you that charitable office," said his wife. after a. momentary pause. “ I had no 1dea of course that it needed- mending. But Lucy has a wonderful eye fortumnelv for your comforts.” “For eveIZy oue's comfort But hpr own,‘ said George loyally. “ What should we do without Lucy ?" After that evening Jack Throgmorton came less often to Baaudesert Gardens per- haps ; but Janet Bryer met the pony carriage again two or three times on its way to the park. Miss Bryer was not the only person who began to talk about the young fellow’s devoi tion to the Doctor’s family. His mother had a. serious talk with him one day, which re sulted in her driving over to lunch with Miss. March, when she confided to her, under a. promise of the strictest secrecy, the news that her second son had hinted at a budding fancy for Miss Thrale, There was nothing like marriage for stendying a young man, the anxmus mother declared ; and even she was obliged to admit at last that. Lucy s behavior 511106 her cousin’s marriage had been abso- lutely without reproach. Adva. repeated this conversatlon £0 her hus- band the same evening, who received it. with every mark Aof diggpprobgtiou. _ “It would be like his impudence to think of Lucy." he growled from his dressing room door. “ A young scamp that. cannot keep himself, let alone a ‘,wife." “ Well, you can Judge for yourself this evening." returned Mrs. March carelesslyâ€" she was standing before the glass fastening" on her bracelets and putting some roses in bar belt. “ J sck is coming to dinner. I asked dear Mrs. Thregmortou to send him m us on purpose." 1 Georgie looked ratfier white and savage,aud inclined to fling tbmgepboufi. George made some inarticulats reply, and Ada turned to go down stairs. The candles on her dressing-table shone upon her charming white dress and smoothly-braided hair, and on the collet necklace of dead gold and large turquoisys which she wore round her slender throat. “ What a pretty necklace I” said the Doc- tor, wishing to recover himself and to atone for his little outburst of temper. “ I don’t remember seeing it before." “ Not really?” returned his wife, putting up a White hand to touch it. “ Why, it; is one of my few relics of old London” days ! Oh. you must have seen It a. hundred times ! Will you have one of my rosebuds for your coat, dear, George?" J Mk brought with him the intelligence that Ted Aukroyd had come home that afternoon quite unexpectedly and to his mother’s un- speakable rejoicing. “Bee in sfuyinngihh Mrs. Ackroyd,” said. “ No doubt there is fatted calf dinner toinjghy at Qtoqme.’_’ Miss Throgmortou was coming in from one of these excursions on the sfternoOn that yeung Ackroyd came home. She had her homespun dress turned up over a crimson skirt, and was carryinginto the house a. round flat basket filled with new laid eggs and another of ripe plums. It was a mercy, she subsequently declared. that she did not drop all the eggs when she lifted up her eyes and beheld a great sunburnt giant standing in the doorway and holding out both his hands. Bee had felt it to be her duty to spend a few days whenever called upon with the lonely mother whose patient face always seemed 9. silent reproach to her for send» lug her boy away. They used to talk a great deal about Ted as they set by the wood fires of an evening : and Bee went every morning to see the young man’s favorite horses and feed them with apples from the pockets of her apron. And, wherever she went, Rip followed jealously. having transferred his fidelity during his master‘s absence. " You are just in time to take the basket,” she said, with theleast bit of a. trembie in her bright contralto voice; and she popped them into the young man's arms; while Rip did his best to upset them again by leaping up, rapturously in Van) efforts to lick his master’s hands and face, and by grovelling blindly at his feet and barking in furious excitement. “ So you have come back ‘I” she said at last, with a happy little laugh that was half a sob. “ Oh, Ted, how could you stop away so long? Did not you know how we all wanted you ‘2” " Did you ‘2” Ted answered. He was still standing, a burly bronzed shape, with his arms full of eggs, and Bee was looking at him and rejoicing in him and laughing at him as of old. “ Of course I” “ I would have come back sooner if I had known that, Bee,” “ That '2 what? ” she demanded. blushing carnation red, but drawing herself up to her fullest height. " Come ; let us go to your mother. I want. to see her smile again~- really smile. She has often tried for my sake while you were away ; but nowâ€"" Young Aokroyd could not see the dog or the baskets or anymiug for gazing at; Bee’s dark sweet face which was lit up and quivering as he had never in all their long friendship seen it. before. The tall proud beauty suddenly dropped and melted, bursting into a. passionate fit of sobbing, in the middle of Whloh fed, having miraculously rid himself of the eggs. took her into his great gentle arms and held her head against. his breast Without speaking iword. Bee sobbed and sobbed in that fai‘hful refuge to her heart's content. The courtyard was quite emptyâ€"there was no one to see. Mr. Ackroyd had no immediate desire to dry his tyrant’s tears. The tall beautiful figure was not very heavy to hold, and now and then he stroked with a, lingering hand the dark abandoned head upon his shoulder. “ Champion? Nonsense I” cried Jack. angrily reddening. “ March is too busy naturally to look after his Wife’s enjoyments, and I hate all that provincial rot ? Why must. a. woman bury herself alive because she is marriedâ€"the very time in London when she begins to enjoy herself 7" The lad was knocking the balls about savage] LA. he spoke ; he looked as if he “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” the girl cried at last, tearing herself away and flaming round at hlm superbly. “ How dare you hold me, Ted?” “ I was afraid you would break the eggs,” he said tranquilly. “ I was only crying because your mother will be so glad I ” she asserted defiantly. “ I understand, dear.” “ Andâ€"and you won‘t throw it in my teeth to-morrow? ”â€"â€"“ No.” “ Mrs. March has a. husband, Jack,” he observed coolly. “ Why do you constitute yourself her champion ?" She looked at him again out of her joyful tear-stained eyes and burst into a. delicious pea] 9f lathter thy _did hip ggpd to hear. Young Aekreyd’s return did much to re~ vive the dormant vivaeity of the little town. It was as more worth Mrs. March’s while to study her little journal of modes. There was to be a ball at Croome on Ted’s birth- day, and meanwhile he had organized a series of parties for lawn tennis. at which Mi'ss Throgmorton reigned supreme. All the pretty girls in Barlaston and Green Knows gathered in their eoquettish costumes and aprons in the beautiful quaint old gardens and made the house merry once more. Doctor March insisted on Lucy’s going with the rest of the young beauties. Mrs. Throg- morton was always very glad to take her with Bee, so there was perhaps no necessity for asking Mrs. March to ohnperon her cousin, and Mrs. Aekroyd’s invitations to the Doc Ior’s wife were as few as civility permitted. Jack spoke once rather hotly to Ted, wonder- ing why the deuce people took such a savage delight in hurting that poor little woman’s feelings, and why they did not take more pains to conceal their evident jealousy of her attractions, l‘ed said little. He seemed in- tent on a game of billiards. ’ u 0h, Te}. Ted." she said, giving him her hand‘ “ you are [Es big a 9.0959 as eye! 1” I for he wishedt‘hey had been the heads of the Barlmmn 1* :omliata instead. “ 1: depends on what you call being buried alive,” returned young Ackroyd impermrb- ably. [arming at his friend with steady eyes over the (ma on which he was leaning his chin. “ Mrs March ought to very happy with that good fellow, one would think. She has a charming hornet” “ IEV(Ee§EV;H‘th'0110\v that she is never to show her face outside of it, I suppose," urged the other bot-1y. “ Of course my molher does as she pleases," said Ted. putting away his one and going to stand at the fire with hi5 hands behind his back. " But I confess that I don't see myself what a woman who has a husband and a. baby and a house to look after wants among a. crowd of girls. She has had her turn ; it is mheirs now. I don't profess to be fashionable, Jack, and that seems only fair.” “ The women are all jealous of her,” said Jack, shrugging his shoulders and walking off in 9. buff. And it, seemed as if. eilher om of bravado or out of pity for Mrs. March‘s loneâ€" iiness. 'the young fellow began to devote himself to her more openly from that day. “ The Houses of York and. Lancaster," she had dubbed themâ€"and that Bee Throgmor- ton was her rival. Mrs. March now declined all invitations from the Red Roses, poor Bee’s party, though she still remained on terms of ;smiling civility with the puzzled family in Upper Brunswick Street ; and she took pains. when any entertainment or festivity was organized by the Lanoaetrians, to retort with another. from which all but her faithful White Roses were excluded. Ada. renewed her intimacy to a certain ex». tent with Minnie Bryerâ€"â€"poor Edger had left Barlaston some months before to join a married sister who was settled in Australiaâ€" .vmd made a. vigorous attempt to rally round her the little party of which she had been the queen in the early days of her married life. It pleased the Doctor‘s wife to assert that the town was divided into two feetions 0“ The White and Red Roses" and Bee would have laughed an all this but for the distress it caused poor Lucv, and some one still dearer even than Lucy. For some time past. now a chill of suspicion had been creeping through kind Mary Throgmorton'e heart that Doctor March's marriage had not been productive Hi the unmixed happiness she had hoped from it. Bee could not bear to talk to her mother just yet about; the household in the square. It would have been so much like saying “ I told you so,” and could have done so little good, And it was utterly useless, as he had more than once proved. to remonetrate with her brother. “ It March does not object to my inâ€" timacy with his wife.” the boy would answer with somewhat ins-dent quietness, “ I don’t; see that anyone else need. I like Mrs. March’s societyâ€"she is the only woman worth speaking ‘0 in Barlaston‘she is good enough to like mine. Is there anything irn- preper in our singing together occasionally in her husband’s house, or in out walking a. few yards side by side when we meet each other in the street ‘2" Mrs. March, in her character of Queen of the White Roses, had,oi course, declined Mrs. Ackroyd's invitation to the birthday-ball at Groomsâ€"the invitation which Ted and Bee had had such hard work to obtain : and Lucy remained at home with her cousin in spite of George’s expostulationn. The Doctor’s wife was heard to say afterwards, with a pretty laugh. that she was sorry poor Mrs. Ackroyd’s ball had been such a complete failure. This having been. as she chose to consider, the latest sortie onixhe part of the Red Roses, Ada resolved to"’head a. sally of her own fol- lowers. and to take the town by storm with her appearance at the annual Infirmary ball. which she knew Mrs. Throgmorton had never attended. Lucy. when she heard of her cou- sin’s determination, begged Mrs. Throgmorton to take Bee too for that once. “ Of course it does not really matter.” the the girl said cheerfully, though the anxiety in her blue eyes belied her Words, “ but it will look so much better if we allgo. Barlaston is not like London ; and Ada does not think Geofie had taken Bee into his confidence and charged her to procure for Lucy tho counterpart of the dress she had worn at Groome two years‘ before. Lucy’s eyes filled with tears when she saw it. Custom had not dulled the sweetness she found in his land- nessâ€"in being considered and cared for and indulged. it seemed to her that he was never too busy to think of what would give her pleasure. ~ The girl looked like a spring morning, or anything else that is fresh and young and sweet, when she came into his study in her white tulle and daisies to show herself With Ada. before they set 01$ for the Town Hall. It nearly broke the poor fellow’s heart to look at herâ€"at her slim young figure, at her blue eyes. with their dark and delicate eyebrows and lashes, at her pretty rough bronze hair and her charming happy smilesâ€"and then at the exquisitely dressed little woman who bore his name and was the mother ofh‘is child. Mrs. March had devised a black costume quite as startling as the memorable whiteone she had worn at Croome on New Year’s Eve. It glitwred w1th jet’like a. starlit night, and defined with startling frankness the grace iul oulmm it was supposed to hide. She had diamond buckles ‘on her tiny black satin shoes ; her flaxen hair was studded with dia- mond stars. These diamonds had been her mother’s in her old days, she explained to George. As a girl she had, of course, been unable to wear them ; but now “ dear mamma" had gladly given them up to her. and she hoped he thought them becoming. â€"â€"In front. of Col. Thomas Mead’s house in Greenwich Conn, stands a sycamore. or ball wood tree, which is 171 years old, having been planted in 1710. It. is about 150 feet high, and fifteen feet from the ground its'civ- cumierence is twenty-eight feet and its diameter nine feet. A hole in the trunk, which is now no bigger than a man’s hand, was not many years ago large enough for a. man to crawl into, and was once used by children as a sort of play house. As the tree has grown of late years the aperture has gradually closed. There is an old anathema ; “ Go to Hades or Halifax." There used to be a stronger word than Hades, but the proverb is modified to suit the Oxford revisers. It will not be safe for the American penhphotogtaphar to revisit Neva. Scotia. A SPICY PHOTOGRAPH OF HALIFAX A traveller from the States photographs the capital of Nova Scotia in the following ungomplimentqry s}er : There are a few long, crooked streets, on either side of which are rows of dingy brick and stone buildings, strangers to paint, now as in the past, and Will forever be. The men, as a rule. wear red, bunch side whiskers, Billycock hats and pepper and salt suits of Scotch or English goods, and in every case their trousers are. too short, and a big New- foundland followsthem as they go bobbing about from place to place. The woman are all afflicted with large feet and wear no bustle or tawdry ornaments whatever. If a man owes another man a dollar the creditor can seize the debtor at any time and cast him into (lurance vile, there to moulder among gray vaults until the dollar is paid. Thick fogs hang about the town, and its legends abound with shipwrecks and other maritime romances. Everybody here in their vernacu- lar drops the h, giving yen ’and for hand and ’ill for hill, inâ€"aharbarous strange custom. They are very loyal to the Queen, but whether the Queen is a woman or a man they can scarcely tell. Very few of them have ever seen England, but they all simulate English manners. The washerwoman charges ten cents a pair for socks, and sends them home to you Wet and muddy, and blue as indigo. The resources of Ha.1fax are lumber, fiish and nasal catarrh. The people talk through their noses. all the way up from Jenkins', the fish-monger.'to the major gencreral of the citadel (McDougal). and that antique specimen of human bric aâ€"brac, his wife. (TO BE aofiTINUED.)