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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED^ LADY DELMAR: A NOVEL OF TO-DAY. .& I By THOMAS TERRELL AND T. L. WHITE-1 SYNOPSIS. A waif named Jess, about whose parentage there is great mystery, is adopted by a Socialist leader, Alman Sirange, and nn old lapidary named Boron, who Las escaped from Siberia, and is now await- ing the return of his son and wife from that place. Strange falls in love with his ward, but Je-s comes across Lord Delmar, a nobleman of loose character, during an election contest, who wins her affections. Strange neglects to tell Jess of his lovo, and DclmRr tries to persuade her to elope. He intends to lull her scruples by a false Scotch marriage and then de3ert her. It is whilst mak- ing arrangements for this villainy that Jess rejects Strange'a offar of love. CHAPTER XII. The VOICE OF the Tempteii. PHIL a bright, early, spring nioi-n- ing. Every face looked beaming in the sun- shine, from the baker's man, who whistled as he walked jauntily by with his basket slung across his shoulder, and the servant maid who hung far out from the top window, to call out slyly as he passed, to the lady of fashion who drove by, with a placid expression on her sleek counten- ance, whilst her thonghts dwelt on the probability of her lord and master returning home from the City later than usual this fine day. It seemed impossible for one to look gloomy for long in the snnlight; just as im- possible as it is to appear cheerful with the mud bespattering your new patents, and your trousers turned well over your ankles, and the rain dripping from the points of your um- brella, forming a small stream which trickles down your back. On the Heath, at Hampstead, two persons, a man and girl, were sauntering along. They ohose their path among the trees, and their conversation appeared earnest. Now they stopped a moment; he smiled; she shook her head; he pulled his moustache with a nervous irritable gesture, then they walked on again, "Explain yourself more clearly, Jess; I fail to see exactly what you mean." Of course you cannot understand me, Lord Delmar-" "Edward," he interrupted. She smiled. "Edward, then; but oh, if you could only see things with my eyell-" I should be looking in the glass all day." "You are laughing; but pray be serious for a few moments. What would they think of me if I left them as you suggest ? What would my gratitude fur all their devotion seem like then ? Oh, I cannot. Indeed, in- deed I cannot." "Jess, look at me. I am grave enough now; as grave as if life were in the balance; and what is life devoid of happiness? With- out that, life of itself is a monstrous heavy cloak; with it, the mantle is light as the gauze of pleasure. Don't raise those sweet eyes full of shocked surprise, child I am not good, like you. I never pretend to be. If I had been good, I should have let you sleeping in that little room beyond the shop, where I first saw you to love you. 1 should leave you now, Jess, to go home to the humdrum exis- tence of proverbs and morals, and I should return to the intellectual companionship of my interesting friends, but I cannot. You have become part of my existence; you are necessary to my happiness; and you tell me you love me. 1 believe you; your eyes speak with jour lips; but now, when we can be together for life now, when in constant com- panionship, we can learn what true love really is; when the days will fly by all too quickly, so great will be our content, you bring forward every worthless argument under the sun, to frustrate the plans that both our hearts are set upon." iN, o, no, it is not that; it is only because I shall stand in such a false light before Alman and Daddy; even Paulette will think badly of me. If I might only say that-that 'I You must say nothing. If you mention my name I am lost; remember that." They were both silent for a few moments; she thinking how miserable Alman had been lately in her presence; he wondering what new inducement he could bring to bear. They had come to the end of their walk, so they turned and commenced retracing their steps slowly. Jess, let's sit here." He pointed to a seat under a tree near them. "Now," he continued, leaning forward and tracing hierog yphics with his stiok on the ground, I want to tell you a story. It will interest you, because the events took place but a short time ago, comparatively speaking, in our family. It is a story that was told to me by my uncle, the former Earl Eustanoe. I was but a boy when I heard it, but young as I was it made a painful impression on me. A distant cousin of my mother's, a young fellow with a brilliant career before him, fell in love with his sister's governess. They were engaged secretly, but she refused to marry him unless the announcement were publicly made for a long time he hesitated, but love gained the day, and he acceded to her conditions. "Jess, it's a wonder to me why some women should be so entirely selfish; but to continue." Young Glyn had a stormy interview with his parents, and at last left the room with a thousand pounds in his pocket, a father's curse, and the request never to look upon his face again. With his bride upon his arm, he I left the house of his forefatters-" He went, then P" Yes, and they made their home some- where in France, and for a long while nothing was heard of them then it .transpired that, some months after Glyn had committed suioide, leaving a wife and child in penury ?" But surely he could work or she, could she not have done something for him, if she loved him ?" My darling! Men in our position are not brought up with a desire to work. We have our ambitions, but they are not often calcu- lated to bring grist to the mill. We follow our own inclinations, not that of others. Believe me, Jess, I could no more be content to toil for my living than I could—cease to love you." yes, you could. If," and she blushed, you had been in Glyn's place, and I had been the poor governess, you would have worked, and if you hftq failed I could have worked for lOU," "Never, Jess. What! Do you think I would live on my wife's earnings ? Tore God, I would rather die," Jess looked up with a bright smile. "Who can say that these little speeches do not endear a man to the girl—woman who loves him, and believes in him P No, indeed," continued Lord Delmar; "but don't you see the true moral of the story ? If she had listened to Glyn's en- treaties and agreed to a private marriage, he could have got over his father's anger when the die was cast, and to retract—impossible. Poor fellow! be would have been alive and happy now." What has become of her ? Jess inquired after a moment's pause. Oh, she's in London somewhere. She came over shortly after her husbaud's death, and is allowed some small allowance by the family." Poor thing P" murmured the girl. Yes, indeed, whatever her fault was, her punishment has been very bitter." There was silence for some moments; Jesa was looking on the ground. All at once the stillness was broken by a thrush on a neigh- bouring bush. Listen," said Jess tell me, why dops he sing P" Ii Why, Jess Why, because ho, poor soul, is seeking a mate to build a nest. It is a song of love." It is very beautiful. It always is new and beautiful and yet it is the same that thrush is but a bird, it knows no other." Is love always the same P" Yes, the same in past centuries, when that self-same bird (for he and his fore- fathers are but one) sang to the Adams and Eves of the past that self-same song the same to-day when he sings it here to us the same in years to come, when he will sing it to those who shall come after us. Yes, love is ever the same like a flame it is lighted, it scorches, and burns, and consumes, then fades and dies away, and is no more and he, poor bird, is doomed to sing the song of love year by year, to witness its birth, its blossoming, and its end for ever." For a moment Delmar had forgotten him- self. And does love always die ?" asked Jess, sadly. Who knows P There is the grave." And after that Delmat- started. "Come," he said after a moment, "we are getting foolish; love lives to-day for us that is enough. Do you love me, Jess ?" tenderly. Do you not know ?".very reproachfully, God bless you. Yes, I am sure you do. Oh, child, why do you hesitate ? If you only knew how precious these moments are! They will never return; the hours are flying, not orawling, Jess; everything sweet and beauti- ful in the future, that might be so fair, you are refasingl These meetings will be found out, and they will keep you from me." She shivered as if with cold, but she made no reply. The bird still sang above; it brought to her remembrance the canary, and that reminded her of Alman. How be shunned her sooiety, and how often be sought the solitude of his own room; how kind and gentle he was, and yet how sad since that miserable day If she went in time he would think of her as one he had loved and mourned, who had passed from him never to return. The old light would live again in his eyes; the old laughter ring from his lips. Was not her very presence a reminder of the past? They would say hard words of her at first- Daddy and Paulette would, but not Alman. 11 And his kind thoughts would move theirs into a gentler channel. You know, darling," Delmar remarked, when we are married we must return to England, and live in some sweet retired spot, away from all society, until I tell my father. Then we shall be safe." She pressed her hands together—a pitiful little gesture that caused a stern expression to gather on his face. Jess, do you still mistrust me ? I never have-it is not that. Ob, if you would but understand that they are my world. It would kill me to know that they thought badly of me." "They need not. Directly you are my wife you may write and explain things fully, saying you are married; but you must not even then say who I am, Jess." "That will not matter if I may write, just to ask their forgiveness and tell them I am happy." You may. Did you think I should deny you these things? Little one, you must think I am a perfect ogre. Bu I, Jess, I thought I was your world." You are now; but before you came I loved them only. I cannot forget that." You do not want to be" a second Ada Glyn, do you ? it Oh, no Did I not tell you from the very first that I would not listen to your iove, be- cause I feared it would bring unhappiness upon you ? You did, with your sweet generosity, but now, after I have explained everyihing to you 10 fully, you know that my heart can never have peace till it is wedded to yours. Do you consent to become my wife ? There was a pause. The bird had flown to another tree. Its song sounded fainter to the lovers. « Yes My darling." A rush of wind drove past them, the trees swayed to and fro. The bird flew away its song was over. They conversed in whispers, telling again the old story that wise men sneer at, and old maids sigh for-the story that is never too old to be told that will be whispered again and again, when all present humanity is dusf, and other men have been born to carry on the sneer of the departed ones. Jess was transformed into an almoststartling loveliness while listening to her lover's vows on that bright March day. And be, intoxi- cated with her sweetness, promised again, anything, everything she demanded, forget- ting for the moment how soon the rash vows would be forgotten. "My own little darlin, he repeated thi twentieth time, you shall never regret this sacrifice, never." She smiled, watching his face with a look of ineffable tenderness on her own. His eyes sank, abashed, scared, before the noble utiselfi h love of this trusting woman. What a hateful return he made for the monument of gold she had raised for him in the pure depths of her innocent heart For a moment his soul quailed at his own deceit. Lord Delmar had not yet lost all voioe of conscience. That thoughtful monitor did not fail to sting him at odd times when he least expected it. A little incident re-called him to himself. A bit of prickly gorse, plucked by some idle hand, had caught in the girl's flowing skirt. lie stooped and extricated the thorny bramble. May it always be in my power to remove every thorn from your path, darling." But not at the risk of paining you, pointing to a scratch on his hand. Slowly they sauntered on, all the world, with its sordid unimaginative creations for- gotten-at least, by her and while they walked he told her of those plans which he thought, on mature reflection, the wisest to pursue. Remember," he said, before he left her, for they were both afraid lest Paulette should come upon them unawares. And till then say good-bye. Jess, you will not play truant at the last moment ?" "1 never break my word," she answered, smiling through her tears, for they had sud- denly clouded her eyes. Keep that letter, for all the directions are in it. I shall meet you at your journey's end. Courage, sweetheart The. clouds are but small ones; everlasting sunshine lives beyond." And when he bad gone she stood silently for a few moments looking around her, al- most vacantly. She roused herself, and slowly wended her way towards the house, where she knew she shou d find Paulette, # » # » Ii All, petite, you have come for me to-day A re you tired of waiting; have kept I you too long ?" Paulette asked, leaving the gate just as Jess arrived, and speaking in broken Eng- lish. Yes, Paulette. I have a headache as well, and want to return home early to-day." A headache, ma foi, and on such a day ? See these flowers, enfant, they will soon take away your headache," She held up a bunch of wallflowers. Thank you, Paulette, they are lovely." Lucettes picked them for cett.e jolie de- gnoiselle," she said. I told her how fond you are of flowers, pet ite." Jess smiled gratefully, but nude no reply. Her heart was beating guiltily against the letter that she had thrust into the bosom of her dress when she caught sight of Paulette'e portly figure. For the first time in her life she feared to meet the kindly woman's honest gaze. She expected a lot of curious question- ing, as to the pallor of her face, the pain in her head that rendered her almost giddy. She hated dissimulation, and yet she must act it for her lover's sake as well as for h r own. While he was near her, when in the pro- tection of his society, she felt that she could brave the whole worid, so strong and happy did she then know herself to be but the instant he left her, the moment she was deprived of his beloved presence no one could feel more alone. She started from her reverie to find Paulette speaking. and I always say to myself that the change in him could only lie at your door, dearie." "The change in whom? What change, Paulette ?" Mon Diezi.1 I am already hoarse with so much speaking, and you have been thinking of other things all the while. How often have I told you of the folly of such a bad habit ? Bad at all times, but unnatural in the young. Well, I remember when a child my- self, just after my dear mother s death (Heaven rest her soul), and we had all moved to the village of Fufont, that I got into that habit of thinking, always thinking; nothing seemed to rouse me from these day-dreams. I would take my dinner of bread and pears under the trees by the river, so that I might still be undisturbed, and one day the good priest, Perc Guillott, passed me there, and he spoke kindly to me and patted my head, and told me it was a sinful act to waste my life in dreaming, that it was for the young to be working and laughing, while the old should sit by and dream of the past." Paulette paused when she got thus far in her narrative to take breath. But you were saying somebody was changed." 1 was telling you what Tere Guillott said to me." Paulette spoke severely, and, despite the girl's impatient sigh, continued her story. Child,' said the good man, do not cry, I speak only for your good; look yonder,' and I looked, and I saw my young sister Julie dancing towards us, and pulling our father by the hand. 'She,' he said, 'is the true picture of youth, and she can brighten the life of the sad,.and make merry the broken- hearted. I don't know how it was, but I never gave mysulf up to brooding after thaf; the good man's words I always remembered." I am sorry," Jessed, humbly. "P.uI8tte, you were married once P" Yes, petite, long ago. My husband dii'd of a dangerous fever, and my little ohild fol- lowed him a few days later; but do not talk of these things all have sad stories to recol- lect, it is better to keep them out of sight." It was the first time sbe bad spoken of her past; no one had thought to question her about her husband. It was known she had been married, by the gold ring which she wore, and by her name—Madame Gaudet-but beyond that she had ever been silent. Jeis pondered over the sad little history till thLy reached home. Lae that night, when all the house was at ret, Jeis crept out of bed and lit her candle; by its light she found the letter Delmar had given her. She gently turned the key in the door of the communicating room where Paulette slf-pt. Then she seated herself at the table and, opened the envelope. The notes feil out; she picked them up and looked at them. A feeling of intense anger took possession of her as she did so, and a flush of shamo rose to her face. Money to her, from him. How could he ? How dare he ? She pushed them from her in disgust; tears of mortification and wounded pride gathered slowly in her eyes. Then she read the letter "My Darling,—I shall not give y <u this unless y >u have consented to the dearest nope of my life. This is to tell you what to do, and how we shall inef-t, and how we shall be m;¡lr;ed-ble,g,'d lay when I c-n call you my own for ever. You must go to King's Cross Station on Monday evening; there is a train leaving at nine o'clock for the North, Take a first-class ticket for Eilinbur^h; j st bring such few things witti you as you will ne ni for tiie jour- ney, for to take a way a box cr nnything of tlut sort would ar juse suspicion. You can get into a sle ping cairiage. The train arrives in Edinburgh in the morning about six I will meet you at the stition. It would be »a well that we should not travel together, ai we m:ght be followed. I take the l berty ( f enclosing a littl,3 money as you will want, it. You must forgive this, my darling, as you know tlmt in two or three days all that's mine will bo yours, and so it may its well be youta now. When I think that in a few days' time you wiil be my wife I hardiy know how to contain mrs; lf f r the gr. at joy thnt is in my heart. D 'n't fa 1 me, dear .-si you will have promised by iiiil. If you break that promise vou wi 1 absokrely destroy me; every hope, every lovp, every joy will be eone from me for ever. C 11' 11 we meei, adieu. R mem- ber your promise. Yo irs for ever, D.' So the letter concluded. With a happy sigh Jess raised it to her lips and kissed it. .\1 ine for ever for ever and ever!" she murmured, as if the repetition of the words rendered them more delightful. All the momentary angisr had melted. Whatever latent fear still remained in her heart it was surmounted, hidden from sight as it were, by the one determination to keep her promise. Whatever it should cost her, whatever pain she would bear when her eyes looked their last on the old home, still she would suffer all to keep her promise. If this was to be the test of her love, she would prove her fidelity by her strength. After all, the suffering would be over in a few short days. She would be happy then; with his arms to shelter her she would be safe for ever from every storm that might threaten her peace. Then she gave herself up to musing, until, bit by bit, the old feeling of fear crept over her. How lonely she would feel, and how terrified among strange faces then the remembrance of her childhood returned. She had never been afraid then, in all the .crowded thoroughfares; she had mixed fearlessly with a child's bold spirit, glad in the del'ght of freedom. In a short while she looked up. How quiet the house was how lonely the coloured prints looked that Alman had nailed up to make the room look pretty for her, shortly after be had adopted her How dainty were the dimity curtains round her bed, and how Paulette's careful pride was visible in every corner! Monday at this time-it had long since struck twelve—she would be, where? She would have said good-bye to home, for ever! not for a week, a month, a year, but for ever; for she knew quite well that Delmar would not let her stay in the little house again. How familiar and dear was each trivial object to her-the little china monsters on the mantel- piece, and the wonderful clock that never. went for long The very mantelpiece itself. Alman had fashioned it, and put it up when the old one was found too small to hold the ornaments. She had grown up in this house, had been first taught the sanctity of the word home when she entered it; and now she would leave it secretly and let them think what they would of her. Have all your lessons been given in vain, Alexis Boron ? Has all your earnest care brought these fruits for your reward ? Let us hope not. Jess thought of him, but she knew that the keen edge of his sorrow would be blunted by resentment. Paulette would also think her ungrateful and good for nothing. It was Alman who would hear and forgive at the same time; Alman who would blame himself for too little care, the omission of the duties he had always fulfilled; Alman who would come into the very room she now sat in, perhaps to the very chair, and remember all that bad been, all that might have been. Did he not love her, not as a brother or father-the sweet surety of those titles were denied her for ever- but as lover, husband P And he would mourn her, even as she would Delmar, should he desert her. As the thought forced itself upon her, as the recollections of the love and kindness she bad always received from him came crowding into her memory, a cry of remorse broke from her lips. She stifled back her tears, the sound or her voice alarmed her, A door opened above, then closed again. She blew out the candle, and crept into bed. But presently heavy footsteps descended the stairs. It was Alman; he stopped outside the duor. Jess." Yes, Alman." II Are you ill, dear r No." II I thought I heard you cry out just now.' II J was dreaming, I think." "Good-night." "Good night. Alman." She heal d his footsteps creak on the stairs again, then all wa3 still. CHAPTER XIII. LOST. It was ale on Monday evening. The raia had been pouring in torrents all day, and towards evening a monotonous drizzle-So description of Scotch mist-set in, threaten- ing a wet night. Tea was over, and Alman bad left Jess alone. This was a habit he had recently fallen into. The pleasant evenings of music and conversations were already thought of as a bygone time, It would be insufferable agony for him to take up the broken thread of the old life again—those little toils and pleasures of every day that makJ, up the long sum of existence. -1'1. And, indeed, Jess^dfd not wish it- ^er thoughts formed her llfe, and when, spoken to, she answered in monosyllables, relapqido" into apathetic indifference immediately after- wards. The hours that were formerly so full of joyous merriment were now avoided, and be and she would each hurry from the other with some excus", and seek solitude as their only welcome companion. Alexis Boron did not always take his meals with them. He Also, of late, had shared the general depression of the household, and kept more to himself, thinking, perhaps, be would have been wiser had he done so all along, On this Monday evening he was sitting before the fire in hia own room. The toil of the day was over, and he bad changed his coat for a dressing-gown, and had put on his black Velvet cap. The bock he had been reading had fallen from his hands, but he was not asleep. In the glowing embers he looked back at the life he bad spent, and the life he might have spent had fate been kinder. It is a thankless task, that re-tracing of steps to follow the fair path, after the dark one had already been traversed, full of hope- less regret which no prayer- can alter, no sigh can avail, and yet the passionate appeal often wings its way to Heaven from many a weary heart, Let me undo v bat has been done I ,et me live my youth again, and be differera But, alas, youth is foolish; only age retains wisdom, bought by experience. The clock upon the mantelpiece struck the half-hour he started from his reverie. Half-past six. and no evening paper. The boy has forgotten me, I suppose." He walked over to the window, and looked down the street. The aspect was i ot calculated to enliven his spirits. The newsboy was not U1 sight. He went back to his chair by the fire, and had scarcely resumed his former position when the door opened, and Jess came in. She carried the paper in5 her hand, and laid it on the table beside him then she drew a stool to his feet and sat there, with her head resting against his knee. For a time they were both silent. > Alexis Boron conld scarcely trust himseli to speak. He was angry with her, and yet an overwhelming amount of tenderness was in his heart when he looked down at the fair head and the slender hands that appeared 80 fragile in the firelight. The position she had taken effectually oon- cealed her face. At last she spoke. "The boy brought your paper just nolv, Daddy. I put it on the table beside you." Yes; I see it." Another pause. He did not take up the paper, or appear at all anxious to do so. It is cold to-night; don't you think so, Daddy ? She shivered a little as she spoke, and clasped her hands together nervously "Nay i it is scarcely cold for this time of year, buethe damp makes one feel chilly perhaps. This is the first wet day we have had this week, in spite of its being April." Yes. Have you had tea yet ? No; I have no appetite to-night." Let me make it for you." Without waiting for a reply, she rose with feverish haste, and set the kettle on the fire; then she prepared his tea, and poured it out. Where is Alman?'' inquired Boron. I do not know." "Have you not seen him?" Not for the last hour." I will call him, then wait here, enfant; I should like him to be with us to night." A curious look passed over her face, as without waiting for an answer the old man left to call his friend. Then she moved slowly round the room, touching first one thing, then another. She stooped beside the old leather chair, and rested her head aganst its worn back. She arranged the pipeS neatly in the rack, and caressed the worn slippers on the hearth. These were Alman II. She drew the curtains, and shuddered as she looked out into the dark night. Then she

He was earning plenty of money, as times were pood he had saved sufficient to pur- chase the necessary household wares, and if she would but be sensible and say H Yes"* they Would be united within a few weeks. I If she said No he would-well, he knew not what he would do. lie thought he might go away, emigrate, or do something else equally foolish and desperate. But he was determined to speak out plainly. Mary must be forced to say either Yes or No." He would not torture himself longer by occupying his present unsatisfactory position. As Mary Farrington came up to the stile Reuben turned round and faced her, leaning with his elbows on the iron bar and fixing his honest brown «yes on her pretty face. Sf I've been waiting for you, Mary," he began. Why, Reuben ?" she asked, in mock sur- prise. I didn't ask you." "But I wanted to see you very much—I wanted to tell you something. And 1 thought I might see you if I waited." y But if I hadn't come, what then ? she cried, saucily, Would you have stayed here all night ? t. ts I should have waited until it got dark and there was no chance of seeing you," he said quietly. p. Well, what is it, Reuben, you want to see me for p" ( To tell you, Mary—do be serious, lass, for once-that I want you to say you will wed me. Say you will, Mary he pleaded, with moisture in his eyes and a lump rising in his throat. I Ob, Reuben she laughed. "You are at it again. Can't you wait a bit longer p., çç I can't wait, lass, and I won't he ex- claimed doggedly. How long have I waited already? 1 have loved you all my life. We've been sweethearts for ever so long. I know you like me. Mary. Why cannot you say now what you intend to say some day ?" "Never mind it now, Reuben." I must. I have been working and saving for years for you. Say yes to-night, and our home shall be ready for us in a week or two." wi I cannot consent yet, Reuben," the girl laid, soberly, lowly. Why ?" he demanded. Well, for many reasons I" she cried, with some spirit. Give me one, Mary." "I won't! Why should I?" she replied, petulantly. "If you can't wait for me, Reuben Calvert, you-well, you know." But why should we wait longer P I am a man now, and you are a woman. You must speak, Mary, for God knows I cannot wait ary longer." If I do speak now, I shall say' no.' It is better for you to say it now than to sajr it later on. But you will not say that, Mary dear, will you ?" If j-wfawon't wait—" I won't.Y?i he broke forth. Then it is' no There, Reuben, I have said it, and you have yourself to blame." Do you mean it ?" he asked, in a low breathless way. I do." Well, I'll go row. But, Mary, I shall never ask you again." He turned away without another word, and went towards the wood and Dick Orrell; bis eyes were filling with mist, his teeth c. closed on his lip. Mary stood there watching her lover's re- treating form, and half-expecting him to rush back to her side. She only half compre- hended what had passed, and she never dreamed that Reuben would keep his word. He would be waiting for her as usual to- morrow night-or the night after that—at the style. As the disconsolate lover was about to go down the path into the wood a familiar voice behind called his name. Hullo, Reuben, is that you ? Where are you off to, man, at that rate ?" Calvert paused on the confines of the wood, and, turning round, saw Dick Orrell lying on his elbow on the green bank. les, it's me," the lover of Mary Farring- ton answered, the cloud lifting from bis face as he faced his interlocutor. I' What are you doing there?" I Smoking and resting a bit, Reuben," Orrell replied. But I say, old man, who's that pretty lass you have just left at the stile yonder ? Is she the girl you are going to marry?" As Dick was speaking he had jumped to his feet and was walking towa ds the other. s, No, Dick," Calvert said, his face growing dark again, and his voice showing some of the bitterness in his breast at that moment. "That is the lass I am not going to wed." But you love her, I can see," quoth Diok in a sympathetic tone, "and I don't see why Jrou shoul 'du't. There is only one reason." What is,that P" Well, sfce won't let me!" and the man's Sitter laugh rang out beneath the trees. "Oh I You've been quarrelling. Well, never mind, Reuben, you will soon make it np again, you mustn't take a woman at her word, you know. Their 'no' to-day will change into I yes' to-morrow." It doesn't matter to me Reuben growled. I'll never again give Mary Farrington the chance to say 'no' or 'yes' to me I" "Nonsense! You are vexed now, man, but Will think quite different^ to-morrow," Dick said laughingly. Will I?" [V Of course." e" You don't know me if you think so." I You are like the rest of mankind," re- sponded Orell philosophically, "when you get infatuated with a fair face. I'll wager a crown, Reuben, that you ask the lass again before many months—say Christmas lI If you have five bob to throw away I'll take your bet." fi You daren't!" cried Dick incredulously. » I have said I will. Isn't that enough Calvert demanded. f Then it's settled, Reuben," Orrell ex- blaimed, with a ring of satisfaction in his ieep voice. L There,let's shake hands on it!" f Done!' j The two miners shook bands over their singular wager, and even as he clasped the bther's palm Reuben Calvert suspected that he had done a very foolish thing; Orrell on the contrary felt certain that he had done a very smart thing. The latter was shrewd enough to know that even a small matter such as the wager entered into might prevent a man from doing what he otherwise would have done and it was highly probable that that little bet of a silver crown would keep Reuben Calvert away from Mary Farrington a consideroble period. Then the two men strolled through the dusking dingle together and Orrell was apologising to the other tor not keeping his appointment on the previous night. (To be continued).