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Aa Old Sweetheart of Mine. At ona who ooqb at evening o'er an album all PtSBd alone, Aud luueeti on tbefacoB of frleuda that be haa known, 60 I turn the lobTos of fancy till in aliadowy 1 tb«B I.flnd tb« smiling foftturee of tax old sweetiioart of mine. ThelampUfthtBuoniB to slimmer with a tlickor of Burpriiie As I turn it luv to rest mo of the dazzle in uiy uyee, And I light my pipo in ailence. save a b gh that Boeme to yoke Ita fate with my tobacco, and to vanish in the urn oka. 'Tifl a fravraut rotrorpoction, for the loviDg thougbui that start Into being are liku pcrfumos from Uie bloasoma of ihu heart ; And to dream the old dream over is a luxury divine, When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweetheart of mine. Though I hear, bouoath my study, like a natter- ing oX wiagB, The vuiuos of my ohildron and the mother as bho •ings. I feel no twinge of couscienco to deny me iiuy thuine When care has caiit hor anchor in the harbor of a dream. * In (act. to spoak iu earnest, 1 believe it adds a charm To spice the good a trifle with a little dait of harm ; l-'or I find an extra flavor in memory's uiellow winu That makes me driuk the deeper to that old sweethuart u( intnu. (ace of lily beauty and a form of airy grace Float out from my tobuocu an the goniui from the vase ; And I thrill beuoath the glauoes of a fair of axurueyiiu As glowing as ttiu ssmmor and as tender as tbu BkieH. I loe the pink sunbonuet and the little oheck ered drona Bbo wore whbQ fitnt I klMSed her and bbe an- sworui tbfj cureHH With the unwritten dfclaration that " asBurely as the vme Grew round the stump. Rhd loved me," tliat old Hweethuartuf mine. And a^ain I fm-1 tlje pi'^ssure of her slender little b&nd, As we used to talk to^tothur of tlie futare wn had planiiod , When I hUuuM bu a pot't, aud with nothing elsu to do Hut to wrlta the tundor verHos that sheBet^thu music to. When we should live tognthur in a cosy little cot, Hid 111 a iietit of rt>h<-ri, witli a liny garden Hi>ot, Where ttie vines wt-ru t-Tor fruitful and tbu weather ever fUio. And the hinlh Miiro tvor singing for that old sweethusrt ut mine. Wh^nl Hhould btt li4r liivnr forever aud a day. And she luy (aitbful swuuthuart till the gulden hair waHgriiy : Aud wo hhouid btt so happy that when either's lips wfiru dumb They shuulil nut suillo in Heaven till the other's kiss bad cume. Hut, ah I luv dream In broken by a ^top ui>ou the aUix, And ti< (I r 1-4 softly u]iuned, and my wife id •tanding there.) Yet witi> â-  t(;ornuBrt »ud rapture all my visions I resign Tomeeluio living proseuco of that old 8woe^ htiart of niine. -JaMKS WniTCOMll lllLCV. ESTELltS INFATUATION: A NOVEL. •â-  Yoa Dali|{bt !" ho Mid, softly. "More kDgol thtn woman t what have you done to mo .' Havo you come to redeem me. or to makn mil despioable in my own eyes?" " I havu oomo to help her and to {irovool a niiutakii," she replied, lier voice faltering Bbu made a movement tu free hemeir, but lie held her Htill presaed to him. Tlio voioes of the Hmythe SmitliB, dominating the othura, came iu from the garden. The ({D«uta were reliiruin){ from the orohidu and the vinfrifH. " Wo muat tin back to them," said Lady Eli/.«b«tb, whuMj embarracHment wau be coming painful. Woman-like, she waa the nrHt to romombor appoaranoea aud to think of dftailN. " VcB," Ktid Anthony, with sudden cold- ne»H, ruloaain); her and turnioK away. " Til id world hai to be coniidered. 'J hey miiHt not remombor that lie pauaed; ho waa ^oinK to add â€" " that I am married and you are not my wife," but stopped himself in time. There was a snxgeative- noHH in it that would perhaps offend her; and harsh and even brutal as ho had bonn only so Hhurt a tiino ago, he would not now wound htir fur thu wealth of (ho world or for the whole glory of life. "Then goud by," said Lady Eli/.abelh. "I shall loavH IlplandK tomorrow morning, and Hhall not aoe yoa again." " Wn shall meet," ho answered, oponing the door for ht>r to pass out ; but ho liim Bulf wont liauk into the room, an<l tlui roatraint of her prosenuo now taken away, lin oat down by the table and sobbed like a woman or a child. And his guests, who fannd Lady Klizabeth sitting alone in tho drawing room, had to leave without formal adieiii (o their host, whom they amused Ihomselves in vilifying for most part ef the way to thoir ruspootive homes. " Knob aboori" thu woirion said, or " Huoh a boar I " Hut tlio niim said, mora fiercely, " What a cad that follow is I " CUAl'TKR IX. TOO i'UniC TO riEAR. Kvnn tho Hmythe Hmiths followed suit, and fell foul of their neglectful host with more acrimony than was usual to tlioni. In general tliey were goodnatared enough, aa folks are who have anything still to get from khe world, and who prefer to uoax rather than to oompol. Uut now that their son was about tu make a marriage widoh would ally them with the real aristonrauy â€" albeit will) ita elbows cooling in the air - they wore diupoaed to stand a little more flrmly on thoir rights, and to resent the Hiaokness of any rope that should be taut. " It waa moat discourteous moat unusual I " said Mrs. Hmythe Sjnith, severely, " I wiindur where he went what beo«me of him? Where were yon, l.ady Klizabeth '.' 1 miaaud you when we wimt to aee the orchids " " I saw him for a short time after then," laid Lady I'Uizaboth, angel aa she waa, fibbing a lltdu by iinplioation- by the luggftiii fii\»i aa wcdl aa the tupprfitio vni. " lie went into tho library when I left him, and 1 heard him look the door." " Uood hnaveiis I is the man mad I" said Mrs. Hmvthn Hmith, irritably. " He is really very ill bml. I assnro yon I feel quite insulte<l, it w*h so abominably rude." Hhe waa serinnaly annoyed. To be sure, she had no daii)(htor far whom to lliid a likely hiiHband ; but alio nono (he bias desired the frIendHhip, intimate and .(amllutr, of Mr. Uarford, and had rather ooantod on showing off today before (he rest the good terms on which they, the new-oomers at Uplands, stood with (be old house of Thrift. " Ue was in great trouble," said Lady Elizabeth. " He has bad news of his poor wife ; so have I," she continued. " Good gracious me ! " cried Mrs. Symthe Kmilh, startled into the vernaotilar of her youth. " Where is she, my dear? What has he heard ? Why has she kept him 8} long in doubt whether she was alive or dead ? My ! what an extraordinary thing ! Wherever can she be ? And what on earth has she done '.' " " She is ill," said Lady Klizabeth. "But where?" asked Mrs. Scaythe Bmi(h. " At Men(one," said Lady Elizabeth, with a reluotance she tried to conceal and did not. *' Then she did rua away with some one ! " cried the other. " And it was her old lover, that young Uaborne, of whom I thought better things ! " Shrewd woman aa she wae. she ooold pat her (wo and two together as aoourately as moat. Lady Kliztbeth was silent. Her love and pity for Kstelle went as far aa silence, but not ro far as falsehood. ' la it not so. Lady Klizabeth ? Did she not go off with Mr. Oabonie .' " repeated the young artist's former hostess and qnaai-maternal friend. ' What I know I mast not repeat," said Lady Klizabeth, very gently. " My friend's secrets are not mine." ' Dot I am going to-morrow to Mentone to see her," added Lady Klizabeth. " She wsK always one of my dearest friends, aud I cannot bear to think of her oat there alone, without one belonging to her near her." "Is she alone.'" asked Mr. Bmythe Smith. " Yes ; one friend only is with her." " Mr. UsborneV" Mrs. Bmythe Smith's onrioaity was irrepressible. " No," said Lady Klizabeth. " He ia dead." Husband and wife looked at each other. Thia admiasion was a little rent in the veil of mystery in which the whole affair was Hhroudod. "And ahe ia following?" asked Mrs. Bmythe Smith. " She ia ill, " said Lady Elizabeth, mak- ing a line distinction not lost on her huarera. "How very sad!" said Mrs. Bmythe Smith, with genuine sympathy, not stop- ping (o consider (hat fracture of the wed ding-ring which waa all too certain, and thinking only of (he suffering hnman being. " Yes," euid Lady Klizabeth, whose eyes were, as so often before to-day, tilling op with tears. " And yoa are going, my dear? '' asked Mrs. Smyths Smith, a faint little accent of surprise, that miijht mean almost dis- pleasure, in her voice. " To-morrow," was the answer. " How will your iieople like that 7 Will your mother aud Lord Kiiigxhoaso approve of it ? " " Surely," said the oarl'i daughter, emphatically ; " they know how much 1 loved poor Kstelle. They will think me (luite right in going to Hse her now, in her time of trouble." " Bat if she went off with that yoang man ? " abkod Mrs. Smythu Smith. " That dooa not make her suOerings leas painful nor his death loss pitiable." said Lady Kli/abeth. " No, not for liorsiilf â- , bat for yon 7 Thosb who touoli pitch, you know ; and Lady I'ili/«b«tb is lou pure to bo dehlod." "If I am good for anything at till, I need not fuar iletiloment ! " she anawurod. â- luiokly. ' Aud dutUement from Kstelle ! I>ear Irieml ! you do not know her as I do. She ia thu piirrat of thu pureâ€" the sweetest and best of all ilio ^irln 1 havu over known." " And Itfl hur liuaband and gone off with another man ? " said Mra. Smythe Smith her eyebrows uplifted. " Whatt'Vor hlio may have done she cannot be corrnpto^" said Lady Klizabeth warmly. " Mistaken, yes ; but uui corrupted." " It does not do to palter with sin or to give soft worda to wiukcdneiis," said .Mrs. Siiiytho Hniitli. gravely. lietween her deaire not to nff.ind La.ly Klizabeth, and that curiously strict propriety belonging to tho socially iuseoure, she was in a cleft Htiok ; but on tho whole she inclined to propriety as tho more lasting oondition and the iiioru btablu foundation. "If you knew hur as well as I do you would think aH I do," said Ludy Klizabeth. ' It would bo iiiipoauible for Hatello Olau- rioarde to be evil in heart." "Only in doed ? " iiueried Mr. Sinytlie Smith, making a nitat point. " I do not diifuiid all she has done, but corrupt ill heart hlio oertainly ia not," answered Lady Kli/.tbath. " 1 know her HO woll I I have known her ever since we were quilo children together, and she can- not have aiidilenly uhanged her nature." " Still, I do not think I woald go to lior nndi r all oiroumstances, if I were you,, until vou had your parenta' sanction," said Mrs. Siiiytho Smith, aensibly enough. " 1 know they woald not object," she anawrred. " Then, my dear young la.ly, let me advine you, wait till you are conllrnied in your assurance," said lior host, in his heart enjoying tho now attitude he had Huddonly assumed of half neiisuting mentor (o the earl's daiightor, hiH social superior. " Torhapa it would bo best," she said, sweetly. " Without iiuoation," was tho rejoinder. " Do nothing rash, and then you will have uothiuK tu rvpciit. Your actions, remember. Lady Kli/.abetli, while you are unmarried, belong to your faintlyyouroontrol. Your orodit mil your nanio »ro thoira, not your own. Wait, and lot my lord decide. ' " I oaii telegraph to night, but I am sure of their coiiaoiit," she aaid. "Ill which c»Bo you can start, as \ou propose, to-morrow, with a olean way bill," 110 answered, with a straiigo Hinile. Hut Lady Klizabeth waa right. My lords curt answer was aimplo and diriuit. " Do aa you wish," it said dictated partly by real kindneua toward thia dnsolatod, misguided young oreature thia I'latelle, whom they had known in the daya of her innooenoe, and loved In the heyday of her beauty -and partly by the innate firido of (ha Hritish nobleman, holding limself and hia too high for any kind of danger by contact with any kind of inferior. Iliid Kdtelle been ona of thsmnolves ho might havo hesitated ; being Oeorge Olau- rioards'a child, his dear Delight might throw over her the mantle of charity, and her Hnow-white parity woald get never a stain in oonseqaenoe. Bo that little hitch was overcome. And Lady Elizabeth made ready to start to- morrow for the Riviera, where she was to take the comfort of her presence to that poor faithful heart half aistraught with its self-imposed charge â€" the soothing of her speech to that guilty soal, beaten down to worse than death by woe, yet too fall of her life-loDg love to have the sense of either repentance or contrition. And now, on the joarney. Lady Elizabeth had loisaro to think, lot the last twenty- four hoars all bad been excitement and tarmoil and a confusion of feelings in which desire to help Estelle had been the only clear and simple line. Bbe knew that she loved and admired, and, in spite of bis late defection from the nobler way, respected Anthony Harford. She did not quite know how passionately she loved him. Girls do not anderstand themsalvea as do women of experience when (he well-known fires are rekindled, and the familiar eyes of re- awakened love shine oat afresh and that which baa been ia again, ander other forms and different names. Still, she felt that she bore ssmething in her heart she neither wikhed to look at too closely nor to let others see at all. She was conscious of a sense of blesst Inesa in feeling that she could serve him, intlaenoe him to good, be of living aae to him in any way. She was remembered bow he had held her in bis arms and she had felt the beating of his heart against her own. She was not accustomed to be held iu the arms of men, and yet it had ssmehow seemed natural to be iu bis. She said to herself that it was jast the impulse of a brother conquered by her prayer and yielding to the victor. She knew that she was nothing to him â€"not even bis xiater -while Katelle waa still his all. Yet that silent caress had been more precions than she liked to own or dared to think. Her father's favorite name for her danced in her brain to the music of Anthony's voice, not his: and " You Delight ' ' was hammered out with every beat of the piston, and swung tbroagh the air in every turn of the wheels. She did her best to ge( away from these conscious, too, of a strange sense of happi- ness of which she was half afraid, and of shame for which she blashed, when she thoughts, through which ran an unacknow- ledged thread of disappointment in that Anthony had not come to (be station, as she expected. But, clinging aa they were, they did not make her central feelingâ€" her duty to Kstelle â€" the lesx potent or clear. Btill, though only (his (imalacram of (he woman be had so ardently loved, An- thony would have gone (o her bad he been able. Bat when a man is lying on a heavily mstalied road, with one stordy leg bent and broken under him, he ia not very fit for a twenty-tour hours' joarney by land and sea, let the desire be never so strong, the need never so pressing. Patience, in the form of splints and plaster of Paris, has to be taken instead, and fuU-tlavored Americanisms do not help matters one jot. So thia was (he reason why Lady Kliza- beth was disappointed at the railway station, and the coubtraction she had pat on Anthony's words was not justified by hia deeds. She understood it all when ahe reached Mentone, and a telegram gave her (be bare outline of what bad happened. A letter would follow, said the brief notice ; and with this Lady Klizabeth had to bu content till the letter did arrive which gave 11 the details. The arrival of Lady Elizabeth at the first gave Kstelle a spell of renewed mental vigor. She recovered her intelieotaal tone as a slackened fire blazes op with a fresh supply of fael. It was almost like the shadow of her beloved thrown across the darkness of her day> to have Lady Kliza- beth hereâ€" she who was so bound up with the earlier part of (his grievous history, and who in a manner rejirotlaofl the past and redeemed (he present. And ob. for ingratitude of (he beloved who do no( love ! â€" it was a relief beyond words to have tjme one aboat her other than that faithful slave who did all (hat was necessary for her material well-being, but who supplied no element of personal happiness and no spiritual sustenance. She could bear with his qaeor awkward ways and irritating devotion now that Lady Klizabeth was there to. in a manner, share the harden of bis personality : and she felt altogether freer than she had doneâ€" freer, that is, from the incnbus of her dark depression, and more able to understand herself and her sarroundinga. Thus it waa that Estelle rallied for the lirst days and even weeks of Lady KUzabetb's arrival, and cheated her friends into (he delaiive hope of possible permanent recovery. It was a curioaa psychological fact that she seemed to have entirely forgotten her marriage with Anthony Harford and her motherbooil of his child. Though she Uft off living on his grave, her whole talk was of Charlie. She spoke of him, however, more in relation to her girlish life â€" more as the young lover forbidden by the authorities than as the dying hosband of these later times. Lady Elizabeth did not StiU, (hey distracted and disturbed ber.Lknow if this was a purely mental She tried (o banish them -, to fix her ' pbencinenon or an act of reticence for the thoughts on Ksielle's aafferings. herdespair her loss, her sorrows : but these faded away into a vagae kind of mournfol cloud. while " Vou Delight I " rang out between the iron staves like sweetest musicâ€" that silent, strong embrace repeated itself in her memory â€" and the thread of disap pointed hope in that she had not seen Anthony at tho station as uhe had hoped waxed broader and thicker and deeper in tone. Then, wearied and overcome by all this emotion, she burst into tear.s as she buried bur face in the pillow provided (or the night joarney and with a sadden oonviotion of unspoken sin prayed for pardon, grace, and light with the whole fervor of her throbbing heart. And then she alept. When she awoke the sun was shining -, Kstelle was near ; and Anthony was banished from her thoughts. She had been through thu Valley, and (he fire had scorched and blistered her overnight. To day she waa in the clear light of heaven, and her pain had passed. CHAPTEU X. lllE SUKKr .KMi TllK iKHl-i. Hard words break do bones. Neither do aii{ry on'js mend them whan broken. Anthony Harford proved this when he waa lying on the road with a snapped ' tibia " - happily the fracture waa simple, not compoundâ€" because his fiery young horse. >ith the hot (emper and highly strung iiurvei>. had tlrst shied at a (ractiou engine, then buliud. and tloally smashed the trap into match wood, and emptied ita contents by the way-side, leaving groom, luggage, aud master in a mass of moving conglom- erate, while he himself ran up a bank and snorted like a demon over the spill below. Had it not been for this uutowaril acoi- ileint, which .Vnthony's fuU-fiavored Ameriuaaisiua in no wi«e helped. Lady Klizabeth would not havo gone to Mentone alone. H* had fully intended to go with her, partly for her own sake, but iu greater part for Estelle's. The fire of his wrath against his faithless wife had died down, and that uonvsrsation with her dear ad- vocate had left ouly infinite compassion for the sutTeriog woman. He had no love for her nowâ€" at laast so he assured himself. Still it was exquisite pain to him to think that Kstelle ihould be in need of aught that he could give her. That girl, whom ho had so paeaionately luved- (hat fair- (acod, bashful and reluctant maid, whom he had held in his arms and called hia own, and who he had mado himself believe was his own in heart and mind as well as persju -her reluotance counting for shyness that she, who bore his name and was the mother of hit son, should take from another what it waa hia dut> to supply what tor ture ! what i egradation I lie longed to be the hand to lift her ubove all forms of want; hut in hia own clear mind he wished that she would die. Ho saw no good for her shouM Hhe live. He would not take her back , and for his son's sake he did not oare to divorce her. Ho did not wish to put her shame on the recoril forever, and so sear the mother of his child with such an ineffaceable brand; and if she wore ill, as Lady Klizabeth had said, he would not harm her, and he did not mean now to Ikill himself beoaueo of her. Hut ho would for- give her. He wantiul to forgive her before she died -to know that she sank into the deep river of eternity with hia blessing, hia pardon, and the sense and glory of his past lovo about her. Then she would he at jwaoe with herself, ami ho would have satisfied his conscience. Mad (Charlie Osborne atill lived he could not have come to (his state of mind. Hut as things wore, with hia rival dead, all the paasians roused by the late hitter tragedy had faded into so many shadows, and the only concrete faot that remained was (he physical distress and necaniary need of this poor simulacrum of her former self. Tho oeseiitial Kstelle had died when she loft Thrift and her child for the ovil ways uf unfalthtulneaa and dishonor. sake of morality she had outraged. She never liisoovered which it was, for she waa too tender to bring the poor sinner to book, and force from her the confession of a sin she did not regret and the expression of a repentance she did not feel. Meanwhile Anthony Harford's broken bone was knitting together as vigoroaaly aa such a man's naturally woald, with his certain advent when be shoald be able to move, supported on crutches and strength- ened by splints. One day the three were sitting on the seat outside (he garden of the hotel where they were staying, basking in the sun aud looking at iha gentain-colored sea before thera. Kstelle was in one corner of the seat and Lady Klizabeth was next to her. Screwed up as far away in the other corner as was pc-iiible, and xitiing awk- wardly, aa beseemed his modesty, Calsb watched each breath of those parted lips. studied each expression of that fiower-hke (aoeâ€" lovely and fiower like yet, for all its comparative dead netsâ€" looking every now and then at Lady Kli/abeth as ndoglooks to its master, a deaf-mute to his instructor. It was one of Katelle's favorable days, when bar brain waa clearer thau usual, and the dulneas of her senses was broken up, aa it wore, by light aud the free air. She was almost the Kstelle of her former happy and innocent days â€" bad she ever oeased to be intrinsically innocent " and Lady Klizabeth. whose mission visit to heal, not soarityâ€" soothe, not sting- - felt her own heart all the lighter for the temporary sunshine over her friend. Suddenly voices only too well known struck on their ears, and the Medliootts came into view. They had been aa far as Florence, but had turned back on their Hieps and had taken Mentone on their way home. This waa against the wish of tho huaband, but by the will of the wife; aud that willâ€" i]uiet, persistent, uurelaxing, undeviating was beginning to make bead- way against tho other's wish. One of those unaggressive women who are never in opeu opposition, Anne knew bow to have her own way without a quarrel and without defeat. And as she was devoured with curiosity to learn all aboat those dreadful people, aa she called Kstelle and her faith ful slave, she was determined to gratify it. It was the curiosity of ignorance just dashed by prudenoy, with the desire of outraged propriety to have its sa> on the evil litany chante<i between love and sin. She bad heard by now of Lady Klizabetk's last craze, as Mrs. Aspline termed it ; and she felt that she must see with her own eyes how far that madness of sympathy had oommittsd the Lily of Kiugsbouae to complicity with crime. She felt co much stronger and bigger in her perfect apotless- uess than them all, even than Lady Kliza- beth I She, Anne Aspline, the somewhat snubbed daughter of a deoidetlly snubbtMl mother, now holding the ferulo over the heads of those who had formerlv rap(wd her knuckles ! To be sure Latly KlizabL-th in her own person had never rau^wd her kuuekirs, nor any other's, but she belonged to those who had ; and class sjli jarity is a fact like any other. Tho (lersistunoy of Anue's mind iu her eager contemplation of Kstello's fault was a strange study iu human nature. For all hur strong condemnation, she could not forego the an wholesome (asoiuatiou which this naughtiness had for her. It waa the same fascination that a book of Zola's has for his readers. They condemn it, and call it shocking and horrible and monatrous and depraved, but all read to the end. No one shuts the book and puts it iu the lire unfiniahodâ€" that fascination being ovon more absorbing than the uondeinnatiou is strong. Bo with Anne. This fearful cor- ruption, as it seamed to her, of a girl t)»hom < she had uentonally known, and who had been on a higher soaial platform than her- self, was a page of living Zolaism which she must road to the last words, that bad taste iu her mouth notwithstanding. To herself her dealre to atill pursue aud /denounce thia evildoer made her no more cruel than was the Jewish exeontionsr when be tlang the first stone at the sinners against morality, and oBeted them ap u sacrifices to the offended virtue of the raoe and the mutilated majesty of the law. " Ub, bow can Lady Elizabeth do each a thing! " she said, loud enough to be heard, aa she forced her hasband to halt wi(hin ear-thot of the trio. " I wanted so much (o speak (o her, bat bow can I when ahe is sitting familiarly with that infamous woman and (hat awfal man !" "Hash, my dear 1â€" softly, AjQnet(e!" said Mr. Medlicolt, iu a lower voice. He waa not so keen on this testifying of virtus as was hie young wife, and he waa naturally more pitifal to Estelle. " Why should I hash .'" cried Anne, shrilly. " Do yoa think it very pleasant (or me to see Lady Elizabeth- a friend who has dined in oar hooae and we in her* â€" lower herself to such infamoas surroand- inga as a runaway wife and a common miner like that horrid Mr. Btagg?" " Lady Elizabeth is not a child, my dear; she knowe her own affairs best, and what she wiahea to do, and bow to conduct herself," was the reply. "Come on, Annette,' he added, moving away. "I dislike thia pti'olicity so much! It is not ladylike, my dear. It is not Chris sian." "Ills right," said Anne, her month aet close, and her apper lip palled down, aa was her wont wheu recalcitrant and deter- mined. " TbiJi creatare is a shameless sinner, and Lady Elizabeth oaght not to be with her." All this wai heard with crael distinot- ness by the three on the seat. Bach wind aa there was set that way, and brought the sounds sharply lo the senses. Estelle's face first paled as ber ears took in Anne's words and their meaning became clear to ber mind. Then it tlamed with fdver and excitement, aud ber large eyes glistened and shone with dangeroas brilliancy. Caleb stirred in his place like a hoand held in leaah, looking now at Anne, with indig- nation staring iu bis roand red lidded eyes, now at Es.eile with half -terrified com- passioa, and again at Lady Kii^ibeth as if lor direction. " That she ever could ! " he kept on say- ing to himself. " That she ever could â€" and (his queenly lassâ€" is she is col herself, as one might say !" ' That fearful girlâ€" ahe ia like a ghonl ' S(iil Kstelle with a ahadder. " She helped to kill my darUng. He would have lived longer if ahe bad not spoken aa she did. And DOW she has come to kill me. " " Do not miad ber. Estelle." aaid Lady Khzibetfa. soothingly. - She never had much intellect, and what she has is all perverted by false views. Do not care for what she says. ' " No, I do not care for what she says (o me," said Estelle. feverishly, knocking ap (be das( with her parasol. " Bat sbs killed my darling." she added ;" and for that I can never forgive her." " Voa are a clergyman." then came Anne's voice, speaking still more dittinctly to lier retreating husband. " Vou ought to speak to them." " My dear, 1 am a mau and a gentleman as well aa a priest," said Mr. MedliootI, with tirm rebuke. " But the piiest comes first," said Anne, "and you ou^ht to speak both to Lady Eli/>beth and that infamous creatare. She shoald not be allowed to remain here. It is too bad of these hotel-keepersâ€" insnltiug proper people Uke tbia." "'Who maketh His rain to fall on the just and the nojust,' " said Mr. Medlioott, iu his parsonic voice. "We are not (.iod," said Ance ; "and Lady Klizabeth no more than any one elss." " I most put a stop to this, " said Lady Kli.^abeth ; and with the words she rose from her place aud went straight to where the Medliootts stood, ho temporiztDg and ahe testify tog. while Estelle knocked np the dust with tho end of her parasol, and Caleb stood so that ahe sbontd not see the group, whioh by now had moved away oat of bearing. Uut something bad oome into Estelle's face tbat had not been there before, and she h»d a certain look of recoil on herself that might turn to danger. iTo b« Oontlnuedi. !<tik(nr« Epld'opul Kudowmeat FuuU. The Evaugehcid Churchnuin lays : There seems to be a reasonable prospect that the long standing di>pate between the Dioceses of Niagara aud 'loronto, with regard to the Kpiaoopal Endowment Fund of the former, will be amioably settled at an early date. The Synod of Niagara claims that portion of the fund of the original Diocese o( Toronto whioh had beeu raised in the Niagara district of the diocese, and valued at about $10,000. I'pward ot twenty years aito a clause was adjed to the by law on Kpiacopal F.ndowiueut, de- olaiing that when the fund yielded more than ^^1,000 annually the surploa shoald be given to Niagara. Thus far such is practically the statement of the Toronto Synod, the'fund has yielJtd only $ t UOO, and nothing more ; if anything, less. But whatever be the exact state of the case, the question iu reality turns largely upon the relative value of the investnieuta already made. It is understocxl that as a result of correspondence between the two dioceses, the dispute will be settled by the payment to the Niagara Synod of about $5,000. It ia to be hoped that, in the interests o( peace aud goodwill, some such agreement will be arrived at, and arrangements made in order that the bone of contendon may bo removed. UoHERT A. OiSN, M. D.. Dean and Pro- fessor of Surgery of the United States Meiluml I'ollsge, Editor of " Medical Tribune," author of "tiunn's New Im- prove<l Handbook ot Hygiene and Donies- tio Medicine, " says over hia own signature iu addressing the proprietors of Warner's Safe Cure ; " 1 cannot be true to my con- victions iinlefia 1 extend a helping hand and endorse all I know to be good and trustworthy. Your graphic descriptions of diseases of the kidneys and liver have awakcnod the medical profession to the faot of their great increase. I'hysioiana have been ex|ierimeutally treating this disease, aud while casting about (or an authorized remedy, (heir patients have died on their hands." A S)l(lit MIsuiideTStandiiiK. Minister {making out record ot baptism and in doubt about the date) Let me see, (his is the 'i8rd, isn't it? Interested M»m •"♦ -No, air; it's only the fifth, and two ol UlOM »re dead.