Papurau Newydd Cymru
Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru
7 erthygl ar y dudalen hon
[No title]
The baby believes in the motto, A place for everything and everything in its place," and her place for everything is her mouth. A society journal informs us that "when a gentle- man and lady' are walking up the 8tre)t the lady should walk inside the gentleman." Para.doxical as it m »y-appear, it is nevertheless a fact that, however dangerous the profession of a bank burglar may be, he is, unquestionably, a safe man. You must grin and bear it," said the surgeon to his subject. "We.n compromise the matter," said the subject. I'll bear it, but I vow I won't grin." Waiter, take away this beer; it's muddy." The waitT, without stirring: "You are deceived, sir. It is the glass which is dirty; the beer is excellent. Taste it." One of the teachers in the school at Hampton, Virginia, recently asked one of the Indian pupils what Ibs." stood for. Elbows, I guess," was the unexpected reply. Old party, to New York bookseller's clerk: "1 should like a Chaucer." Clerk, altogether new to the business but very polite: Really, sir, I'm very sorry, but I haven't a bit of tobacco about me! Civilisation has not progressed so much that a dog fight fails to draw all the men in the neigh- bourhood to it; but we have the consolation of knowing that all the women turn pale and go the Ollie-ir way. Jones (making his maiden effort as a canoelst)-: Would you like to come along, Miss Dash ? There is plenty of room for two, :F, know. Miss Dash: Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Jones. It is a little early in the season for bathing, and I'm afraid the water is too cold.
NO EXTRA CHARGE.
NO EXTRA CHARGE. A New York dudine, accompanied by a pug, applied at the ticket-office of a country railroad station. Am I required to purchase a dog ticket ?" she asked. 0 no, you can travel as an ordinary passenger." And we are in another fix exclaimed the president of a South Carolina short-line railroad a9 he entered the office of the secretary. What now?" "We've killed a yoke of oxen on the track!" No ?" It's true as you live. If we pay damagfs we must skip the next dividend. If we give the owner of the cattle an annual pass io settlement, the inter-3tate commission will bring u3 to ruin. Oh I why didn't we stick to the canal business!" HE WASN'T SURPRISED. Has yer heard what happened last week to Jabe Snodgrass ?" I haisn't heerd nuffin about him sence he left Austin, last week." Two trains run togedder, and Gabe's head waS cut clean off." He's dead, I s'pose ?" Of course he's dead, and he has been dead ever sence.1 Well, I ain't s'prised a bit. De las' time I seed him he was lookin' poorly, an' was complainin' of misery in his chest, and he had a mighty 'apichou3 lookin' gumboil on his neck." MALARIA AT THE SOUTH. REV. MR. JOHNSINQ: Mawnial, Biudder Smill How's all de fokes wid you ? MR. SMITH: Dey is all well, bress Moses! One ob de chilluns was ailiwyesterday, but hit died jurin! de night. TOO LATE. My mind is made up. No power can stop me. Life is a torment. lcan stand this no longer;" and Clarence de Limberger rushed wildly to a cupboard in the room, and seized a boti le on which was a label with the inscription Toison." "For my sake, Clarence," cried his wife, in piteous tones; for my sake, desist. Oh, Clarence, remember the love I have always borne you. Think of my agony, darling, and pity me." No," said Clarence, in a determined voice; "I cannot-I dare not, stop. Life is made a mockery to me. Through all the long watches of the night [ lie in despair, trying in vain to sleep. If you had I oeen guided by me, it would not have been so; but v-ou heeded not my suffering. I will not reproach you; but I knew the end would come some time, and now it has arrived. My tortured soul can ^tand no more." And Clarence de LimbergJF noved quickly towards the open casement through which the pale moon peered in upon this once united household with looks of sadness and pity. Ah, how tranquil and beautiful appeared the sky How calm and serene the moon which so oon was to gaze upon the face of death Wringing her hand" in anguish, Flora de Lim- berger made one more appeal to her husband. Oh, Clarence, I beseech you, be not rash. Trrn not from me and leave me in bitterness and gall. iiave pity, Clarence, oh, have pity," and the renzied woman seized his arm and clung to it in an agony of dspair, while a shower of tears chased each other down her checks. Too late," he cried, in cold, stern tones, as he saturated a large-sized piece of cake which he had procured from the cupboard with the con- ents of the bottle. A moment later he turned almly away from the window, and said, in chill- ones- There, 'tis done." And Flora de Li In berger, with a wild scream, tell fainting at his feet. It was morning. The strong orb of day was -hming brightly in the east, when two persons -tepped from the rear door of the de Limberger nansion. Casting his eye around, while a diabolical grin of 0 ;atisfaction illuminated his countenance, one of hem spoke- There, John, remove the carcase. I expect my vife's pet cat won't hold any more opera festivaf3 n our backyard," and then Clarence de Limberger -for it was he—slipped out of the back gate and went down to business. THE POET'S DREUI POET (reading a newspaper) U11 llW \1, of the house where Shakspeare lived a tablet has been phced. FRIEND: O, yes, it frequently happens that a tablet marks the room where a great poet lived. POKT (sighing): I hope that somebody will do as much for me when I am dead and gone. FEIESD: I've no doubt of it. PORT Do you really think so ? FRIKND: Indeed I do. POKT And what inscription do you suppose there will be o a t lie ta biet ? FRIEND Room to rent. ONLY ONE. An old man had improvised a stand on a side- walk, comprising two barrels and a board. On this there were half a dozen bunches of cresses, a ftw smoked herrings, a dozen heads of cabbage* and a basket of eggs. Are these eggs fresh ?" asked a buyer. Them's as good eggs as ever you-" Are they fresh ?" Now see here. Some folks think they can't eat an egg unless it's just out of the nest. Them eggs is as good eggs Are they fresh ?" Do you want hens laying for you every minute ? Do you think an egg no good after it gits cool ? You don't expect eggs by lightning express from the nest to the table, do you "Are they fresh?" 1.9'P °se y°u "waat to hev rae go round and git the hen s affidavy that they was laid yist'day, don't you ? I told you they was good eggs. I aintt. politician, a.nd when I tell you them eggs is good e?Ss you can believe me, can't you ? I go fo* giving the poor man a show and doin' what I agree to do. I Are those eggs fresh ?" "I hain't got nothing to make alyin' about my goods. I ain't a book agent nor a life insurance man, and I'm willing to stand up lor iny property and- Are those eggs fresh?" "Yes." I'll take-one.* "One?" One." one.egg?" "Qnfefigg."
Brrst: Original antiI'
Brrst: Original anti I' FALUNG LEAVES I ait >t my window gazing At the lull trees- _■» ry crcwnW With suooenuas, slowly dropping Their ruitlin les"es iround. And my tancy weaves A web of thougtw, Lorn memory wrought Aa 1 gaze at the falliog leaves. In the frsl--oik brightly gleaming Shine h pe—aghtter.ngr thread, Witicil snapa-) e I 'e?en in the wea^mf^ Falling it lustreless shred. And ny bosom heaves Wth unshed tears, and untold fears, As i gaze at the falling leaves. Faith smiles, through mi thoughts entwining Her threads of unsullied light.; Blackened, trey iad through my weaving, All blu 'd by siKoicion's blight. And tny heart still cle-ve* To the shadowy wraith of my ruined faitb As I gaze at the falling leaves. Theil Love witnits bright links shining, Winds the iair t'ubric around Ala<! » knot in the jo Ding, And the wabwork lies spoiled on the ground. And my spirit grieves, And sad tratro start, for a sorrowing heart Is mine-as 1 gaze at the leaves. Yet I still sit lazily gazing At the tall trees, wondering why All that makes life worth r.tie living Seems doomed, like the dry leaves, to die. And fancy still weaves Its web of thought, troui memory wrought, As I :Ze at the falling leaves. Maik ABFON.
ORIGINAL STORIES. 40.
ORIGINAL STORIES. 40. HERBERT OF GLASLYN. A STORY OF THE EISTEDDFOD, THE CHAPEL, AND THE COAL MINE. CHAPTER XV. THE OLD FAITH AND THE NEW. Waiter mentally admitted over and over again that it was by no means clear what of truth lie had been the gainer by the renunciation of one fonn of religious worship for another. As far as he had been able to make out, the Archdruid's philosophy was a purely material one. "Do I believe in God?" Urien 10 him one day Weil, that depends upon what you mean by die term. if you meu n the personal God of the Jews-the I being who helped them in their infernal wars and thievery, whose silly wrath wis appeased by bloodshed and the smeil of burnt beef, wiio pre- destined millions of his children to hell-fire torment everlastingly because ore, and not the minded, of them tasted an apple which he himself bad predestined her to taste; who debauched a Jewish maiden betrothed to a carpenter fool enough afterwards to marry her; who worried and killed his sinless son in order that millions of sc()un,Jrels ti)ight esi-ape just punishment-if you uiear a cruel. vindictive, capricious, hideous, anthropomorphic monstrosity oi that sort, I say fit once 1 do not believe in God. But if by God y)U mean a power in nature which I cannot comprehend, then am I a believer. To assert my unbelief :a that case would be to set up a claim to omniscience; in other word", to declare my own ignorance, to show myself as pretentious an ass is any priest in Christendom." These dreadful sentiments cannot possibly shock the reader to a greater degree than they did the young man to whom they were directiy addressed. After making every allowance for him, Walter considered the Arclidruid a good deal too emphatic, and had repeatedly remonstrated with him on the failing. o should not," he declared, •* use words of that son in speaking of those who differ from you In mere matters of speculation." "Speculation' fl m." Yes, speculation. There are among the Christian priesthood men who hold their belief as honestly as you do yours." I question it." Hut you shouldn't. By doing that you refuse m opponent the right you claim for yoursell. There is not an hor.jst in in among them," per- sisted Urien dj,,r_e ily. "They stick to the :hing because it pays." "I deny it," sail Walter warmly. t. Ev-p" if here and th"re you found a man who preached the ;lIln: he knew were mere iisjaient* of the brain, :I¡itra., the ¡m'1.inin; of disordered dreams, or what not, jeor»»», liuadve-.ls, thousands of DtUers who sincerely believe in an they say. Ind(> I m ,1' know", great many are ;0 fully ocMupit-d in carrying out the practical teaching;¡ "Î Christiani'y that they have no time, iven if they had 1 he wish, to bo; her their heads ibout points of doctrine or the fundamentals of their fail h, "They ought, to time then," was the t'tort. "There is nothing in i lie.,e practical teach- ings, AS vou cilli them, that is not to be found in jvery fum of religion world ever knew." IT y°ur priests were ¡"1Il! thev wnuld examine and inquire is to whether that which they believed in was true. If thev found it was not. they should come out fr^m the ui'ni-itry. Ir would not iieer- fere in the slightest with th ir charitable and edu- I, cational work but would help it. rather. Easier aid 1 h tit done, my gn"<.lCrien," rcplid I the practical if poetieal!r-»nin<led Walter. "To So back, however, t" our original poinf, let me beg (U 0 dal a Hf t 1e more tenderly, 1 w. going to say r-spec! fully, I i- it j our opponents in con- troversy. JLu-d words may liuz t. but they seldom convince. 1 have known t alienate where they might. have converted." The lesson, alt hough he ri;d not show it at tile time, 'R'4 not without jt efTv on the elder man. There is nothing iiiot- e galliog iium a rebuke from a disciple, hut, Urien, the heat of debate <>nce over, was the first to acknowledge an error and to make atonement for it. tie views of which in this and other of cur miriative the reader is given a pretty fair idea, lieai-u tl;e Arclidruid more titan once ex- pound nnd expand at a solemn service he insti- tuted h ur ti:;ies in ¡:'e year at the of the 1 quinoxes, the temple wherein it was con- ducted bei r g a series cf upright stones disposed serpent-w, ov^r a goodly stretch of ground, the centre fold enclosing a massive Logan, or rocking stoi.e, which he used nil ;k pulpii for the delivery of the truth as it is in Druidism. I have great, hope of thee, Walter/' said Crien to liiin t)llt. hast an inquiring mind, and a splendidly endowed intellect. 1 am growing old and shall die, as the Irutii must not. Who titter th*n tiiou to minlst-r in her sacred Temple when I ani gone ? ;1,:> more compe- tent to reveal her glorious pre-ecce and to make heard her pure. sweet voice amid the bowlings of a fanatical super-ititiori. I have received ordina- tion at the hands of a poet-teaeh,jr, the represen- tative in succession oF ;i priesthood compared to which Aaron's is a product of the lowest barbarism and a thing of yesterday. Take thou ordination at ray hands, arui fight, the battle of the gods when i am gone—when I shall have entered, as I hope I shaii be found worthy of doing, ilie White Circle of the aliased in t 11 E ennl Heroaftev." CHAPTER XVI. IS THE TKMP1.ES OF A FORGOTTSN PRTESTIIOOD. To instruct him still further in the mysteries, Urien took the acolyte on a pilgrimage to Ave- hury, aud from thence to Stoneherge, the cradle, [ so lie said, of all the religions, not only of England but of Kuropc and tha world. f They visited those places on two separate J occasions, and by two separate routes. The first !» time possing through Bristol, Trowbridge, and Oevizes on to Marlborough, where, tired, cold, hungry, and not a little out of temper at the slow- | ness of Clirlstmastide trains, they arrived late on the evening of Kriday, December 21. < The next d.y, according to Diren, wu the "dark little Saturday of the Druidic calendar, when the j Sun God entered upon the las-, stage of his terrible I battle wi* h the pt vers of Darkness and Cold, | to emerge after temporary -clipse-a three days tojourn in the Death Kingdom did the Arcndruid call it-into.. new birth, conquericg and to conquer. t Putting up at one of the only two decent ■ boatelries which the pLce can boast of, they duly ralrtahed theioaeivea, and after, a loag talk, went t f, ¡, to bed for the night, where they each slept the sleep of the wearj. There was not much sun, but, luckily also, rvrt much wind, when our pilgrims set off next morn" leg, in a vraveyancj they had hired at the hotel, for their destination at Avebury. The drive Walter considered for the most par* to be dreadfully dul: and uninteresting His thoughts taking colour from the landscapewere gloomy and sorrowful to a depressing extent. Who, he asked himself, in no little bitterness of heart, was this man by his side, and whither was he leading him? Was he teacher urging him towards the light, or devil temptic j him to dee- truction? Could it be that the faith he had sucked in with his mother's milk, that had been drilled into him by his master at school and in- sisted upon by the pastors of Church, with reward of Heaven and pain of Hell as the conse- quence of ita acceptance "l" rejection—could it be that all this was wrong, was a d sent upou ten thousand times stronger men th-n he, that they might believe a lie ? In some points he felt the faith that was in him was erroneous his God-given reason, that faculty which distinguished hit- above the brutes that perUh, had told him so. But rejecting the accre- tions of fabl", making allowances fo. the manipu- lations of the Fathers and for the colouring which the inordinate vanity and preposterous pretensions of the Jewish nationality had given to <ne Sacred Word, was his belief wrong in its fundamtals also? The thought that it might be so filled him with a great fear which made his heart sick. He was very human, after all; he had grown to love his captivity, and had laarced to hug the Error-chain, if Errrr-chain it were, which bound him. Led out into light, his eyes aclie- and his limbs were so numb and painful that he more than once felt in- clined to wish himself back again in darkness and fetters. dilently careered the carriage between long hedge lines, broken at tedious intervals by a duck pool, a muddy lane, or the entrance to some country house sometimes gawkilv hidden among its own trees, sometimes standing on the road side, brazen in uoarchitectural ugliness, staring the passer-by out of countenance, or filling hica.witb utter disgust. Overstone and its church, upon which the restorer had not yet laid hands, stood to left ot' them, and Urien was trying to add to his stock of local knowledge by a. running fire of ques- tions skilfully directed upon the driver, but he, descendant of some tiaxon swineherd or other' knew nothing, and probably cared less, about the subjects of inquiry. He had driven old Dr. Shovelhat, the bishop— him us came one day to give the prizes at Mawbro School—to stay at Overstone Rectory for the night, and he remembered vurry well as 'ow tha old Rector 'lowed 'im to go back to Mawbro without as much as askin' if he'd a mouth on 'im. And that was all the intelligent native had to communicate. Had Urien told him what he knew of the history of the place the poor man would, doubtless, either have laughed or caught his death from surprise. Herbert was startled a.t length from his reverie by his companion exclaiming "See them! The graves of our forefathers, Walter-chiefs and elders of a people who gave light and learning to the old- time world The Arclidruid was standing erect in the carriage pointing "WIÎth outstretched arm in the direction of th o r'zin, his hat off, and the winJ tumbiing tilu long black elf locks about his square, massive brow in picturesque confusion. And there, sure enough, was a sight which first made Walter feel as if the journey had been really worth the taking. Mound after mound. with graceful sweep and curve, showed forth against the sky line, some like great urns planted amid weeping willows, beautiful in a greenery which gave them an appea-ance of warmth and rest even at that disturbed season. Do you not asked the old man, his enthusiasm fairly on fire, as if those who are lying there were already in communion with you Though dead, do they not speak unto you? Through their monuments, surviving fresh as ever, whilst the brass and marble of their great ones have crumbled into dusr, do thev not seem to sav to you, 'Here are we laid to rest. The spot wherein we sleep, each with his fa.ce to the roots of the daisies, is so chosen and laid out, the mounds above us so designed, so fashioned and formed, that you can by thesa many outward visible signs read the thoughts and aims of us who have lain buried here through thd Walter sat silent, observing his companion with a smiie, in which a good deal of admiration was blended with incredulity. A minute later and their chariot had passed the gateway of the grand avenue of Avebury Temple. We are in the jaws of the Great Rarth Serpent," j remarked the Archdruid. in a low, almost awe- struck voice. "See here, and here and here." as mass after mass of rock and sandstone, upright some of it, some supin", w is passed in spexdy flghr. Grand pillars these," in went on, "of a grand aisle guiltless of chisel-touch, but more marvel- lous by far than the work of either Gothic or Grecian builder. Solomon himself never built anything like this." Still was Walter silent. His thoughts were too many and too deep for utterance. He seemed, j suddenly to have been hurled back into a past so. remote as to have completely lost all touch with the existing age and its way. You do well not to speak, my son," s-tid Urien tenderly. "Your first sojourn in Shadow- L", d is having its right effect upon you. It is Deep calling unto Deep and Deep responding— a communion of your uwn soul with the souls uf the>e great ones, and ye speak not in language either understanded of or heard by the worldly multitude. In thy picture of the grand past, when the isle of Britain was the Home, the Mecca, and the lienares all, in one of the civilised world. thou see the vast concourse of worsnipp-rs trooping down with thee to the h of Holies yonder, where Gwyjdon and Qlydd, ArchdruiJ and Ovate, are conducting with splendour and ceremony the mystic i-iies of the Temple? It is Christmas with ye moderns; with theui of the old faith it is Aiban Aitha.) and Hu the Mighty dies upon the hill yonder, dies for m inltiud dies ini is Juried but only for a time-only for three days—when he fhaH rise again, renewing his youth and trium" iu a glorious resurrection. Wjuidst thou see the tragedy/ Heboid! Calvary once more uat this time without the cross Walter, with a cry of astonishment, sprang to his feet electrified. There to the left of them was a great weird-looking mound, s'anding a solitary giant 111,011 Ii level plain, with a dark fringe of trees in the mid-distance and the sun overhead emitting lI. taint, sick gleam, a pale opalescent giobe swimming in a sea of wrinkled, uuli grey cloudlets. The mass of the hill itself loomed out heavily irom its surroundings, und presented to the young man's star lied imagination, in weird, awe-inspiring reality, all he had dreamt that the place of the Crucifixion must have been. The leaden-looking firmament, the sickly sun, the positively troubled aspect of the hill constituted an ensemble trom which nothing seemed omitted that could have made the ptesent- uaent of a terrible tragedy complete. I I said teiihoitt the cross, Walter," repeated the old man presently. That and the other acces- soiies of cruelty were of Jewish invention entirely, the outcome of a gross imagination ever revel- ling in blood. Their'* is but a revolting travesty ot the trutti as it was delivered unWul. And filtering back from them aain-froul the east to the west—see what incrustations of error have taken place. Their very talk of a hill shows i whence they got their notion, It was from us— from here. There is the hill right before you. Out- side Jerusalem where the huuaaa Saviour is said to have been crucified, is no hill at.. all. Outside our holy city, our Avebury, there ia. Calvary is as much an evolution ot somebody's ulÍnd-coffing Jew or pious father of the early Church it were hard to tell which-as is the camel of the Germau philosopher." With this and much other talk did the Arch- druid beguile, no. to say improve, the time. Walter being at once amazed by his preceptor's knowledge of the place and its associations, and allocked at the free handling of subjects which the young man had been taught from his childhood should be held inviolably sacred. CHAPTER XVII. TALK AHCHisoLoatCAL AND OTHBB. Putting up their conveyance at the Red Lton at Avebury, and ordering something warm for Gurth, or whatever else may have been the name of the born thrall who had driven them thither, Urien aDd Walter started on foot to explore the ruins of the old-time Temple. The Arclidruid appeared to know every inch of the ground &Ld every WI): d that had eeir D written cr-ncerning it. The disagreement of the doctors with "egard to the origin and uses of the place W\o8 a theme of much amusement to him. See, he.o," he said to Walter, after explaining that the monoliths L,tey had just visited originally formed part of two circles enclosed within another gigantle one. which was the central fold of the ser- pent, wh, oq head they had pa"ed on Hackpen Hill. and whose tail, symmetrical as Hogarth's beauty line, waved away to a point fanner down to the west than was visible from whoro they stood "See, here are some nctes I have made of tliece Philistian guesses at the truth," and as he spoke he took out a pocket-book and read Ferpiason Full-sized plan of battle fought by Arthur alraiii-t the Salons, and lithographed for ever on the field where it took place. Stukei'/ beared .ibout, the time of Abraham. Rev. Lisle BOIL Us Serpent Temple 01 the time of the Phoenician*. liev. A. Duke Part of a vast planetarium or astro- nonrcnl circle founded by the Druids. Herbert Hullc fter the Bonians had quitted Britain. Local Handbook May have been done by a people who had iiiilrruteti Irom the East, similar remains having been found in lnuia. Of all the stupid theories ever put forward" he when on those of Fergussoin and Herbert ere about the stupidest. I Built after the Romans quitted Britain,' forsooth Couldn't the dunce see that the Via Juli,. there, the Roman road between Bath and London, goes round the base of Silbury Hill on its southern side. If the hill had not blocked the way for him, wouldn't the Roman enginee- have carried his road right through, and so have got his straight line ? Out upon the blockheads I" It were tedious, perhaps, to follow the pilgrims through the mazes of their discussion. Suffice it to say that the Archdruid maintained Avebury to have been put up and Silbury to have been raised bach in the stone age. The positions of both Temple and Mount, he pointed out, bore a well- defined relation to those of the auu at Easten Whitsun, and Christmas respectively, so that to ascertam their age all one had to do was to make a careful note of their and the sun's relative positions at present, and make the necessary astronomical allowance for the solar declination, when it would be found that fifty thousand years would no more than cover the period during which Uill and Temple must have been in existence. Descending Silbury, on whose summit this dis- quisition had been fcr the mostpir., made, they obtained a very picturesque view of the grand old mound from the Avebury side, and then, striking another path than the one by whLh they had come, they v.sited in succession the remains of two stone circles, which Urien designated the Citcla of t' 3 Cromlech and the Circle of the Obelisk or lii-,r respectively. The secret signification of both these mystic symbols in the Druidic cosmogony was made plain to the novice in multitudinous detail, which, for the most part, none but the initiated can ever know, but of which the g:st is that Temple and Elill were intended to represent the course of the sun in the ecliptic, and the operations of those mysterious forces of Nature by which she has existed and will exist from eternity to eternity. A second visit to the Red Lion in Quest of their charioteer having been paid, the pilgrims were soon afterwiirds toiling back to Marlborough by way of Beckhampton, around the southern side of Silbury Hill, a good glimpse being obtained be- tween these two points of the tail of the great Earth Serpent, or as much of it as then remained' This, Urien explained, was the Place of Departure from the Temple. Here criminals were passed out for judgment, and it was the notion of their being cast into outer darkness, or, to speak more accurately, t hrust forth from the Temple (which was Light) at its western end into the region of Sunset and Night, that, a Inter theology had seized hold of and con- vened into a materia! Hell, with all it!i n,melosq terrors. As the carriage rolled without the sacred pre- cincts of Avevni:y the pilgrims, by a common impulse, i .nu I r i;Cousiv stoi.U upand took off their hits. Their last lingering look at the place was obtained as the ¡¡;,d"ws were gathering round it in iiiewr'.Ueof a >un which appeared proclaiming that its own as w.li all tha grand old Temple's glory had departed. (To be continued)
A TELEPHONE DIFFICULTY.I
A TELEPHONE DIFFICULTY. ••neilo." :—: -Bello, Hell,)! "Be-I L-ow!" •' Eh ? Wassar ? J W-h-a-t d-i-d y-o-u s-a-y". "O! Hell-o!"
[No title]
Estefte And are you going to leave me so soon, Augustus ? Augustus My love, I would willingly give ten years of my life if I could stay longer. But if I cfon't go I shall be fined 6d for being late at our debating society." No, Bobby," said his mother, one piece of pie is quite enough for you It's funny," responded Hobby, with an injured air, "you say you are anxious that I should learn to eat properly, and yet you won't give me a chance t.) practise! THB CALLER'S HYPROCIUSY.—Mistress: What did you tell those ladies who just called? Bridget. Oi told tliem that vez was not in, mum. Mistress: And what did they say ? Bridget: How fori init." mum. Youag man (to magistrate): 1 want a marriage licence. Magistrate: What's the young lady's ?aTe.' v Xoun £ InaiJ: Lula Smith. Magis- trate loure too slow, my boy. 1 wrote that uauie in a licence this r urdng for young Brown. 14 Ah. my friends," said a good Irish priest to some o his t>eople who had been mixed up in a fight, you should have more toleration !'• Yis, your nverence," replied the ringleader; "we looked for some, but there WIA none to be found, aad so we used stones."
THE DUCHESS.
[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] THE DUCHESS. By the Author of PHYLLIS," H MOLL* BAWW," MRS. GBorFRST," "LADY BrAmuMsi;V &c. [TU BIOHT or TRANSLATION IS REnsviD.1, CHAPTER XIV. tfCE again that soft. low, trained laughter falls on Norah'j ears; the perfume of many flowers stirs the air; the rooms seems wrapt in a rich subdued glow, out of which one face alone looks clearly. His face I Denis! After one rapid glance the crusl pain at her heart grows easier, as instinct tells her it is not Katherine to whom he is speaking in that calm smiling fashion. Meantime, madam has led her up to a couch, drawn somewhat apart, on which a pretty, aristo- cratic-looking young woman is sitting, with two or three men hovering round her. Her face is the most innocent thing imaginable, immobile almost, but for the eyes, which are specially brilliant when you can see them—which is not often. Long lashes falling from her upper lids, and lying on th. clucks, are educated to be a cover for these charming tell-tales. Sophie, this is my niece," savs madam, stand- ing before her. Norah, let me make you known to Lady Glendore." Ah says the pretty young woman. She sits up quite straight, and lets those bashful eyes of hers study the Duchess just for a second or two. Then she holds out her hand with a wonderfully friendly smile. We have been expecting you," she says in a peculiarly slow, sweet voice; "but—we did not quite expect all this." Then she drugs her eyes away from the girls fresh loveliness, and looks at madam with a sense of reproach in her manner Oli madam, this is very hard on us," she says. plaintively. Madam laughs, and leads the Duchess a step or two farther, to where a lively looking brunette is engaged in a seemingly warm argument with n young man who is laughing a good deal. With n quick knowledge that she is glad of his presence, Norah sees that it is Kilgart-iff. He is a slight man above five feet ten in height, with a pale face, ex- tremely dark eyes, and a black moustache, rather Italian in appearance, but with something homely about him that forbids the idea of foreign parent- age. The pretty brunette had given way in the lively discussion, and had centered her attention on the approaching madam and her companion. She now makes a step forward. It is ?" she says, hesitating, and smiling at the Duchess. "Norah," replies madam, smiling too. Thei. looking at her niece, 11 North, tlii.,5 is Nancy Blake, I hope you and she will be good friends." M Madam's hopes are our laws," says the Hon Nancy, smiling still at Norah, who responds to the smile and then looks past her to where Kilgarriff it. standing behind her. That young man has had time to gain a very brilliant colour and lose it ■■.Cain, in a rather remarkable degree, whilst the Duchess has been making her way up the room, --he herself grows faintly pink now as she speaks to him. "How d'ye do, Otho?" says she, rather de- murely. Lord Kilg-ardff accepts the hand she holds out' rather nervously. "This is an unexpected meeting," he stammer" > somewhat boldly. An unexpected pleasure, you might have said," suggests Miss Blake, with mischievous reproach in her tone. How is it you are here ?" asks Norah, who is very little embarrassed. You never told me thai you knew my aunt." "I think It arose more from the fact of my know, ing her," says Miss Blake, with at little stiru, "I met Lord Kiigarriff on the Riviera some, weeks ago, and," calmly, took quite a fancy t' him," Kiigarriff laughed. I happened to men t ion his name to Madam Delaney, on my return, and she instantly remembered that his father, or great gi endsire, or somebody belonging to him, had once been the bosom friend of some of her peopie so she risked him here, and our of tie goodness of his heart lie accepted the invitation Via lout." Kiigarriff makes some rather rambling return 'o this half-mocking speech, and the Duchess, slipping into a chair near Mis Blake, begins to look with curiosity around her. Shs passes ove; oiost of the women pr,serit, until her eyes fai upon a lounging chair of saffron-velvet, in which, ShH feel. sits the one for whom she lIa" Oesn unconsciously seeking ever 9ince her ent i-af;(- into the room. It is beyond dnubt a very handsome picture OP which she is now gazing. Miss Cazilet is lyim. hack in the low chair, trifling indolently with tiny black and tan terrier that lies crouching in her lap, her eyes turned lightly upwards to th; man who is leaning over the back of her lounge Tho-ettyes are large and lustrous, of a rather ligi. blue, swept by lashes that are extremely daikiii, curl dnintly upwards. Her nose is pure üreei. iu-r mouth perfect. The rippling hair, that i drawn back so sofily from her broad low brow is of a pure and verv rare gold colour. One ciii -ee that she is tall and slender, and r hat she i- :iossertsed of an et-4a and elegance,not to be rivalled Her voice, as it comes faintly to Norah, who i- watching her, spell-bouud and sick ut heart. rounds soft and low as distant music. It wuui. oe indeed a most degenerate man, one lost to all .-race, w ho could date to ifn J a fault in that fault- less form. The man conversing with hlr now does not, 8.' all events, come under tins lie;td, as his devotior L-. sufficiently marked to be seen by all who will He is a gentleman; stout, and some- wllat ilcant ot breath, with the commencement 01 a very respectable tonsule on the top of his heud. He is, howiver, bending over Mi,.s Cazaiet iu 11 temi-loveriike attitude, and is apparently address- ing her with all the ardour of youth. "Sir Urandrum lluileau," gays Miss Blake, seeine where NorAiis eyes aie riveted. "You know Katherine CazaU-t, of course. She is considered the handsomest blonde in the kingdom. Sticky, 1 cell he.; but then I'm a heretic and I don't love t'.ose beaux i/eiur of hers, in spite of their saintli- /less.' Last season she was staying with tha t. Lawrence's in Park-lune, and went about a good deal with them, .nd after a bit she became known as the • Virgin Mary: She is so seraphic. But if she is an in!I, I confess I like the other sort best, the demons—I'm a demon concludes she, pouuc- ing, as it were, upon KilgariflF, with quite a tragic note in her voice. Oh! no! says he with a violent start, and in a deprecatory tone. She laughs. :iow, $['all I te'l you about the others?" she say to Noran. They are not of the least conse. quence, taking them as a whole i but I suppose I had better put you up about them. That little wizened looking man over there is an isutiior; lie is all brain, no body. They s..y he sold himself to the devil half a century ago, consenting to let his body go if his brain might live for ever, and he litis been calmly dwindlingevers ince." "Half a century He does it with care," says the Duchess. Miss Make looks at her with appre- ciation. I egin to have quite a respect for you," she says to Kiigarriff, ollo voce, and as that young man of course fails to understand her, she gives him a gentle but scornful push, and tells him to bring Lady Glandoie to her aid, as Miss Delaney Is prov- ing too much for her. He is such a muff!" says she, when he, obedient, has departed. After all, I dare say you were right." Right, how ? In refusing him If Qh ? But how do ypu know th»t?" says the Duchess, a little shocked. Why, IN t-,Id M?, of course," says Miss Blake. with charming unconcern. "Shlnow; here he comes. Ah! Bless me, what an awkward creature it is." For Kiigarriff, in his eager haste to return, stumbles helDlessly over a little milkjng-stool in the way, and all but measures his length on the ground. What's the good of your steaming up the room at twenty knots an hour?" demands the Hon. Nancy, half laughing. "Where does the hurry come in ? The day is always unconscionably long, spread it out as much as you can." Lady Glandore, who has come up to them, sinks laughing into her seat. Those little stools are the most treacherous things imaginable," she says, "specially when they're black. One can hardly see them; and really of whitt wonderful use are they after all, that we 8hrvld keep them at the risk of endangering life and limb." Well, I don't know: they have their use, you know," says Kilgarriff, regarding with a nobly for- giving glance the black and perfidious stool in question, They give you the free use of both your hands. It was awful, long ago, having to hold your cup and your cake, both. Now you can put your cup down and eat your cake, or you can put your cake down and eat your cup—or—er—ah! —that is-" Oh! Never mind! says Miss Blake. "IsNancy letting you into a few of the mys- teries? "asks Lady Glandore, in her soft, low, rather drawling voice, turning to Norah. "She is very good at that sort of thing; but I think Mr. Wylding is even better. He is the absurd-looking person, with sandy hair, at the end of the room; and that little tub of a woman on our right is his wife, but she doesn't count. At least he won't let her." No, poor little soul! I often wonder why she married him," says a man with a dark, clean shaven face, who has just sauntered up-Sir Philip Glandore, as the Duchess afterwards discovers. I rather like her, in spite of her many defects." Why, yes." says Miss Blake. "She is better than some. I suppose he had money. By-the-bye, who is he? It doesn't matter in the least, my poor child, who anybody is now-a-days it is what he has. He may be a button man or a vendor of bricks, so long as he can pay his bills and entertain the world at large. Talking of that, what has Wyld- ing? "Fifteen hundred a year, and an infernal tem- per," says Sir Philip, placidly. "That's his whole stock-in-trade." Bad for his wife, and not much for anyone else. It it be true whnt you say, what a fraud the man is. He seems so specially sociable and good- tempered, so exceedingly light in hand. Ah there is Denis. How severe he looks." Well, I always think I should like Denis better if I weren't the least bit afraid of him," says Miss Blake, who never yet saw living thing she feared. How did you get on with him?" turning suddenly to Norah. Thus addressed, the blood seems to fly to Norah's heart. She makes a little faint attempt as if to answer, but no words come. Miss Blake, after a sharp glance at her, steps to the rescue. I see. He kept you in order as he does the rest of us, and you don't like to say sc. A cousin, like a brother, is a true tonic; unpleasant but wholesome. Correctives, you know, are always nasty. Dear Denis, it is a shame for me to say a word against him. It is a sin against my conscience, as I know no one I so sincerely like." The Duchess involuntarily lifts her eyes to hers— a world of sad gratitude in their depths. If Ulake had wanted confirmation of her suspicions, she has it now in full. A touch of genuine regret darkens her piquante face for a moment, and in that moment is born a very honest friendliness towards the slender creature by her side. In- stinctively she lift her gaze and turns it on Delaney, who is standing partly within the recess of a window. Thus situated he is rittlipr hidden from the general eye, and Miss Blake's direct glance falls upon him without disturbing the direction of his own. Was ever despair more keenly expressed than in I hose dark eyes that are fixed with such a mourn- ful yet impassion ate intensity upon the Duchess? They tell their tale to the atlentive watcher— there is no need for further speculation. That Denis loves this little dark new comer its he has aever loved the handsome blonde-as he has never yet loved anyone as he will never love again-is as plain to Miss Blake as if his own lips had said it. And now he starts. His melancholy day dream broken in upon by the approach of his mother who comes up to him with radiant smile. "She is charming. Quite a picture. Not one word too much did you say," declares she with "oft enthusiasm. "Was there ever such a mouth, -ticii eyefi, and her pretty little hands! 1 must manage somehow to take her to town next season md have her presented. She will be quite the fashion at once, her colouring is so very original, and hermannersso fresh. In fact, I predict all ,orts of good things for her. She ought in my ,t)inion to make a very excellent uiarriaae. Delaney bites his lips. How you run away with things," he says, in a 'ne iiiore impatient than he ever uses with his idolized mother Here to-day—and—already married! Let her breathe a moment or two, poor .•hi Id." "All, well, we shall see," says madam, vaguely. The impatience, the touch of pain in his forced -mile, liava not gone unnoticed by her. "As you -ay,she is but a child." Then she passes 011 quickiy ogreet another guest who has just arrived, and Delaney goes back to his unhappy contemplation ,f tier lie loves. He has made a slight movement as his mother went by, and through it, his position has become 1_- A !u l. _1- :L:- =- --=- inure Known "lnose immeuiaieiy wiunn itisview. Two cold blue eyes, upliiting themselves from the "¡,Ick and tan terrier, grow very earnest, in their xpression, and watch him with a studied scrutiny hat denies the power to cheat them. When she ous witnessed his absorption for quite a. minute, tine cold smile parts Mis Cilz:tlet's lips. Lifting he tiny creature on her lap, she drops him leliberately, and rather cruelly, with a certain I' ,rCe upon the ground. A squeal is the result of his manceuvre, and Denis, startling, looks in its iirection, and straight into Miss Cazalet's eyes. Something in them chills him, but ho has hardly ime to decide what it is, when she rises and moves dowly to where the Duchess is sitting, close to Nancy Blake, and talking to a young man, rather stout and very closely cropped, who rejoices in an eyeglass and the shortest coat that decency will .lermit, and who seems gifted with quite a fund liglit and iiii-y converse. Miss Cazaiet having demanded very prettily, and obtained an introduction to the Duchess, stands by listeiiinc, to the idle shafts of talk that every now and then reac^i her ear. I've run d6wn for a week," the stout young man with an inch or two of coat is saying, with a i)e;xming smi!e. "Madam wroto me word there was a garden patty on for next week, so I knew I was safe to meet Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, and as she is at present the light of my eyes and all the rest of it, I thought I'd come." What a name! says Miss Cazaiet. Fine old Irish name, I give you my word. There's a good deal of it, I allow, but you can't have two much of a good thing. She says she is descended from a king, or a queen—or several kings or quens-l really forget. At all events, she is the one woman upon whom mv affections are at present set." Don't be cruel! What on earth will become of the others? says Sir Philip. well, tilitt Is it you see! What is a fellow to do? "says the stout young man-Mr. Greene. h I hate garden parties—paltry things," snvs Miss Blake. I have fixed my fondest hopes upon the fancy dress ball to come off later on. Which would you prefer ? turning with a little friendly atr to Norah. ball, I titink," s,ivs site, half sliyly. It is an adorable shyness, that brings Mr. Greene to her feet in no time. "Trust the Duchess for that, says Kiigarriff, with a lingering glance at his old friend and play. i feow. The Duchess repeats Mis'! Cnzalet in her clear sweet voice. I- li iiii-, how they call you ? Dad does," says Norah with a rather painful blush,—her voice about a whisper. "The Duchess A rather—er—pronounced sort of sobriquet, don't, you think ? But of course very appropriate," with a polite smile, but in a tone that says plainly that the Duchess in question is in her opinion of very inferior quality indeed. And a right good Duchess too," says Kiigarriff, resentful of this tone. "No doubt," says Miss Cazaiet with a steady smile. Has your Grace any vacant place in your re- tinue that you might Offer to a deserving vnrlet P" demands Mr. Greene, humbly. 44 If so, here he stands. Any post, however low, would be gladly accepted. Scullion-turnspit-anything to serve you!" "But that your rank precludes the idea, you should feel honoured," says Miss Cazalet, fixing the girl's nervous shrinking eyes with her own cold mocking gaze. There is a sense of keen pleasure to her in the agony of shyness that has overtaken the poor little Duchess at thus finding herself the central object of this unknown circle. Do you know," Misd4Mzalet is just beginning afresh, some subtle cruelty upon her lips, when there is a little stir behind her, and Denis, pale and stern, presents himself. He looks alone at Norah. My mother wants you," he says, curtly, and drawing his hand within his arm, carries her away. 'i' CHAPTER XV. The human heart, at whatever age, opens only to the heart that opens in return." However, the end of the week, brings too the end of Norah's shyness; several things helped her to conquer this very natural mauvaise honte that had overtaken her on finding herself brought so sud. denly in contact with such a number of strangers; Miss Cazalet's subdued but perfectly unmistak- able hostility for one thing—expressed by small impertinences and smiling sneers-and for another, Delaney's evident determination to protect her from it. This last touched her pride most nearly. His protection she would not have—she would accept no help from him of any kind; therefore it behoved her to rouse herself, and win a way for herself out of her troubles. Very small, very silly troubles no doubt, but often very cruel. She had plenty of spirit to bring to her own aid, and'a stout little heart, and very soon, too, she made to herself friends of Lady Glandore, who was amused by her, and of Nancy Blake, who honestly liked her. These two friendships greatly strengthened her hands— especially in the matter of Miss Blake, who was always only too eager to scent battle in the breeze where Katherine Cazaiet was concerned. A word with you, Duchess, says this young lady, seating herself in the deep window recess of the room where Norah is scribbling a letter to her dad. We've sworn a friendship, you and I-and if I'm nothing else, I am at least faithful to my bonds. Now, as to Kiigarriff: have you quite done with him ?" "What?" colouring furiously. "I—I don't think I understand." Then why are you growing so dreadfully red usks Miss Blake, with a practicability that does her honour. However if you want an ex- plana-" "No, no," interrupts the Duchess, in horrified haste. Only—how did you know ?" Why, he told me himself. Last summer-a month or two ago, when I met him abroad. If," laughing, you could only know how I once exe- crated your name. It used to ring in my wretched ears morning, noon, and night. Young men in that stage ought to be locked up urtil the pr 'oxysm is over, or else given over to the tormentors. I did my little best in that last role. But-er-if you are sure you have quite finished with that little affair-" It was never an affair of that sort—never. I have known him all my life. I'm fond of him as a sister might be, but-" I know. That sisterly touch is always fatal. To his hopes, however; not. Mine. Well, I'm going to be fond of him, too," she leans back in her chair and laughs softly but heartily, "Infant in all but years though he be. Was there ever so absurd a boy? It is a defect in my nature no doubt, but I know this, I couldn't endure a master. They;say women like to be domineered over-kept down that thev find their real happiness in being governed by a spirit stronger than their own. If it be so, behold in me the glorious exception to that rule ?" "Yes. But about Oiho" slightly puzzled.' What is it you mean to do about him ?" "Marry him," promptly. As you assure me, you, my friend, have no tendrtsse in that quarter." And now haste thee, haste thee, good maiden. Have you forgotten it is the day of madam's garden party, and that already the county arriveth. Come, let mo put you into your gown." It is a day ns beautiful as though it wtre betpoke," to quote the peasants round about here. Queen's weather of a verity, with a gleam- ing yeliow sunshine that scorns to think of autumn, though already one begins to talk of golden September as thongh it was indeed here so short a shrift has August now, before it drops into the greedy past. The Duchess, very lovely in a soft white Indian siik, one of madam's gifts, glides into the long drawing-room in her pretty girlish way, though with her charming head well up and becoming at once conscious that some strangers are present, grows faintly pink and hesitates, until madam calls to her in the tone she has learned to love. Come here, darling, just for one moment. The I others are for the most part outside, but I want to introduce you to a very old friend of your father's -of mine." Sitting near her is an old lady whom Norah had not until now seen-a stout old lady with the orthodox corkscrew rillglts and a large, fat, most benevolent face. She seems, indeed, beaming with good nature, and, as the Duchess draws near, l'ieR, and laying both her hands on her shoulders kisses her warmly. "So this is the little niece," she says. "A veritable and a very charming breath from the old days. You are like your mother my dear—a little, and she was a lovely woman but your ej es, your mouth Ah! my dear," turning to madam, "Have you noticed it? She is so very like your husband." Yes, I see it," says madam in a low constrained tone. Even now after all these years that have pas-eel, that one unapproachable grief does not bear taking about. "I suppose your father, Niel Delaney-I suppose he never lold you about me," says the old I.id), still holding Norah's hand very kindly, and smil- ing at. her as though pleased by what she sees. It is years ago of course. One may well be for- gotten. 11u did not npeak to you of Mrs. O'Shaugh" nessy." "Oh, yes! Yes, indeed!" says the Duchess e,i.-erly. -i Ofte, I think"—with an adorable blush and a soft shy movement of her evelids-11 Ie uml to call you Bessie." And so he did," says plainly enchanted by this touch. And so he still re- members iiie ? That's nice now amongst old friends, and you must tell him from me—when wi-itin(-, roint.]-" with a soft squeeze of her hand, that I remember him too, as well as when I was Bessie NlacUiiiicuddy. God bless you, my dear; vou are a very sweet child. And now sit here by me for a minute or two, I'd have called on you long ago; but, I'm only just back from Itkily--yes- terdan-. indeed-and- At tliij instant somebody from behind lays his hands ovei Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's eyes and surprises her into silence. The same somebody still further adds to his offence by bostowing a hearty salute upon her plump cheek. Now, Denis And that's yourself, of course- Not another one would have the audacicy. Worse luck!" cried Mrs.O'Shaughnessy, gaily disengag- ing herself. "Pity it is, the Oolonel'ian't here to see Well, and eVtn if I was twenty years younger, I daresay I wouldn't say no to that kiss, even though I might pretend to. Come, tell me every- thing it seems like years since I saw one of you. When is the wedding to be, eh? I'm young enough to danco yet, I can tell you. I'm not betraying secrets, eh?" smiling at Norah, "You know of course of this cousin's" laying her hand on Dene's aim, "engagement?" Yes, I know," says Norah, steadily, who has grown veiy white. Delaney has turned away, to- the window, and is appeirently lost in cont tion of the exquisite view outside. What dreadful things is this kindly old lady going to say next, who would have bitten out her tongue rather than say anything—had she only known. We're getting quite impatient for a wedding, I must tell you." she rattles on merrily. We haven't had so much as a ghost of one in the parish for the last two years. You should come to the rescue, Denis. Come, now, when is it to be ? Is it a time for talking of marrying and giving in marriage," replies he, facing round again, and speaking with really a marvellous nonchalence, with wars and rumours of wars afloat? Why, the very air is thick with the odour of rebellion. Never has Kerry been in such a disaffected state." "Kerry? Say Ireland, and be done with it," says Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. Well, whose fault is it?" says the Duchess suddenly, a little fierily waking into life. Who cares for Ireland whether she swims or—sinks ? Not England. Shots a worry, a nuisance; no more. If, honourably, she could be got rid of there wouldn't, be a second's delay about the dis- posing of her. She is an incubus-a thing at which to shrug the shoulder. But has she ever been shown fair play ? You know," looking at Denis, I have always said that poor Ireland has been slighted—kept ata distance as it were; whilst the rest of Great Britain, Scotland notably, has been petted adnauseum. And yet I am sure a little, a very little love, would have made her loyal to the backbone." There's a rebel for you!" says Delaney, laugh- ing, glad to an absurd degree in that anything has led her to s pontanecusly address him again. I- Faith, there's a deal of sense, though in what she says," declares Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, shaking her ringlets vigorously, A rara good smattering of reason. Only the day's too hot to follow it up. Let us come out and see what our friends in the open air are doing." CHAPTER XVI. Just when I serraed about to learn, Where is t he thread now? £ >ff again The old trick Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn." Not very much, when all is told. The day is too warm for that. A good deal of tennis, a little sauntering amongst the late roses, a tremendous amount of lounging,and flirtation at will. The afternoon flies by almost before one remembers it has begun, and now everybody is lying about, rather exhausted from doing nothing, and drinking tea, and champagne, and divers cups with an un- feigned appreciation of their merits. Colonel O'Shaughnessy, a large, florid, well-bred looking man, with a dictatorial manner and the kindest heart in the world, is telling an old and thrilling Indian tale (born of his years in Hydera- bad) to a select companv. His wife, at a few yards' distance, is giving all the local gossip, collected since her return yesterday, to a pale little woman, who seems rather upset by it. Some of our other frirads are scattered around, and Mr. Greene, who makes no secret of his adoration, is lying prono at the feet of the Duchess. The Colonel, having brought his tale to a pitch that is positively appalling, winds it up suddenly with all the know- ledge of a clever raconteur, and is rewarded by a silence that is half hysterical on the part of his female audience. Suddenly says someone—the Rector's wife, I think-tho little pale woman- Does anyone know how Mrs. Brady is to-day ? I heard she was ill, but-" "Yes. I called there this morning," shouts Colonel O'Shaughnessy—he always shouts more or less. She's far from well. They told me she bad been confined-" Here a most inopportune fit of coughing overtakes him. Confined? What are you talking about, Colonel," cries his wife in condemnation. "Why they have only been mar-" Providentially, at this moment, her cup slips along is saucer in the nasty treacherous way. cups will at time. and Mrs. Ol,lia-uglinesiasy makes a grab at it, forgetful in her fear for the prune silk, of the astonishment and horror that possesses her. "Confined to her bed with a bad cold," roars the Colonel, in a voice suggestive of murder, and with a complexion positively apoplectic. There is a dead pause then somebody whispers something into Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's ear, who appears bewildered, and somebody e!se gives an indignant kick to Mr. Greene's recumbent form, who is plainlyon the verge of hysterics. "A bad cold," persists the Colonel, wildly "Called there-sato her! Nothing worse than that I give you my honour." The nothing worse than that is the last straw, and finishes Mr. Greene, who explodes with laughter, and then rolls over and bites the daiaies in a last vain endeavour to restrain his ungodly enjoyment. But Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, who has at, last mastered the real meaning of the thing, evi- dently sees no reason for restraining anything,anil leaning back in her chair, gives way to mirth. And is that it? says she 50 Bless me what a mistake I made And off she goes into an un- limited number of cackles, until she shakes again. Then Miss Cazaiet is seen to draw gently near, and HS mirth has a trick of dying out in her presence, once more a decorous tranquillity holds sway. Mr. Wylding, the author, is with her. One can see I scribble," he is saying in his delightfully solt voice. "Yet when people look at me they sometimes hesitate (it is a compliment I assure you); I am always charmed with ir, and I can almost hear them ;,ty, I Iie is like it,of course. but he is not so spirituel as I imagined. And yet You can read the rest for yourself. Is it not ? It is all. in my nose I think," with a deli- cious frankness, which is of a goodly length and in my upper lip-have you noticed my upper lip?—which is distinctly en suite." Miss Cnzalet murmers some inanity or other, quite unworthy of I)er, her mind being with her eyes, which are far away across the shaven lawn, where stands Delaney. He is conversing with some- one—she cannot see wlioua-but someone in white. Presently he moves a little, and her pulses grow more even as she sees that the woman in white is not—Norah A voice at her elbow makes her start. 'I "Can I do anything for you, Duchess?" The voice is Lord Kilgarriff's, and Miss Cazaiet. look- ing abruptly round, finds that Norah is sitting almost exactly behind her. Eh? what?" says the Duchess, with a rather absent air, turning to Kiigarriff. It is plain the tone, not the words, have reached her ears. "Miss Delaney—why this abstraction?" says Mr. Greene, in accents mildly reproachful. "Are ail we nothing td you, I liilt you thus wander into realms of phantasy ? Come b;kclic, come back, I entreat you, to solid earth, and us, and cease to tread in spirit immaterial space." Norah, thus importuned, turns upon him a smiling face. I have been thinking." she says, that I should like to play one set With me ?" Exclaims lie rapturously, scram- bling to his ftat.. Consider it done. Now to find two others on playful thoughts intent." I was just wishing for u came myself," says Miss Cazaiet amiably, 11 What do you say ? You and Miss Delaney against Mr. Wylding nnd me?" "I should be so charmed—so too delighted," says Wylding, but thero is this one trifling obstacle,to my bliss. I don't play." If I might aspire simpers Sir Brandrum, turning a languishing eye upon the blonde beauty. "To what?" asks Greene innocently. To—er—to be Miss Cazalet's partner in this projected game of tennis, replies the Baronet stiflly and then in a lower tone addressed to the tall fair goddess at his side, "Oh that I dared Mpireto more—to all." Miss Cazaiet sweeps her cold byes across his fice( with an insolence indescribable. This man-tlda old man—to yrpsanr# to hope that she will throw over Ventry and Denis for him Well, is it a match ?" says Greene, looking at her with a dry twinkle in his eye "If you will," returns Miss Cazaiet indifferently, ignoring his evident meaning Sir Brandrum, as, you know, is an excellent-indeed- with a. slow glance at the unfortunate Baronet from under her half closed lids, We might safely say an old hand at it, and 1-11 You are indeed an enemy to fear," says Greene with a bow-Mise Cazaiet being the acknowledged head of the women players in the county. II Still if you will deign to give us a beating, I think Miss Delaney nnd I would like to receive it." Norah, catching his eve, laughs a little. As it happens, Katherine and she have never yet played one against the other, and though comments on the excellence of Miss Delaney's performances on the tennis courts have reached Kutherine's ears, she had treated such praise as a pitiful truckling to the beauty that even she confessed to see. When therefore the sets come to an end, leaving the Duchess flushed delicately and undeniably victress, there comes a light into Miss Cazalet's pale blue eyes hardly to be admired. She has been overthrown in public places by this her foe. "You have triumphed today in this matter," she says, in a soft undertone, looking with a smile into Norah's large dark eyes. ,It is a sign, you think, an indication that you will triumph always! But I tell you 710." The delicate flush dies out of Norah's cheeks. She grows very pale. It is impossible to mis- understand what has been said, what has been meant. Has this girl-who towers above her like her evil genius, white and fair though she be-can she have guessed her cruel secret; has she pierced into her soul and read there the love that was reared in pain,nnd yet thrives with a vigour that defies all hope of death. This sudden fear blanches her cheek, but through it all there runs a horror of the coarseness that has permitted such words to be spoken. "Always to triumph? No," she says coldly, and with admirable self-possession. "That is given to few—to none perhaps. And there are days, I con- fess, when my serving is a very lamentable failure." 11 Miss Cazalet, I think Madam Delaney wants you-if I might be permitted ?" says Sir Brandrum at this instant, who generally speaks in half sentences. Katherine moves away with him, that curious light still within her eyes, and Norah, feeling tired, dispirited, heartsick, turns round and walks aim. lessly in the other direction. In the centre of the path she has chosen she sees Denis, and as he moves a little to one side to let her pass he looks full at her with a kindly smile. If she sees it she makes no response to it, and only acknowledges his presence by a little faint bow Then she has passed him. And then a second later she knows he is beside her, bending down a little as if trying to look into her face. May we not be friends, my little cousin ? 'a sks he gently. She can see that he is pale, and that there is a great weariness in his miserable eyes. "Friends! Why that we are, surely," replie- she, her glance upon the ground, after that one swift upward look that is now hurting him so fiercely. 1 think not. I fear not. Everything, sadly, is so changed. At home, there, in Ballyhinch, where first we met, you were so different." Ah, there I was in my father's house," with a desperate effort at serenity. "Then it behoved me to be civil to my father's guest." The words fall from her like stones. Oh, why must they b said; what evil fate has thrust this burden on her. But pride, pride, what is it a woman will not sacrifice for that ? What do you wish me to understand ? asks he growing, if possible, a shade paler. That all those sweet days there were a mere wearying of the flesh to you ? That you suffered me indeed, but that no honest feeling of friendship towards me- that feeling," hotly, to which I would have sworn—ever existed in your breast. Norah! 1.. that the truth ? Is that your meaning ?" "Take it as you will," says fihe icily, although her lips are trembling. "You should not have asked the question." They had stopped in the centre of a grass plot, rather deseitel at the moment, and now she look restlessly past him, and from side to side as h seeking mutely a way of escape. "I trouble you. You would leave me," he says, unutterable despair in his tone. As he speaks In moves a little to one side, as though to let het pass. "No, no. You must not think that," murmur- she faintly. She lifts her gaza to his, and he can see that, all at once as it were, the combative loo! has gone from her eyes. Riven as he is will counter emotions, he can see that. j, Norati he exclaims, in a low piercing tone, catching her hand. And then it is all over, and nothing is left hin: but the remembrance of the frown-the passion- ately contemptuous glance of those grey eyes- the haughty curl of the lips. She is half way acro, the lawn now, moving quickly, as if a littl frightened, to where Kiigarriff is standing. Then is something in her whole air that seems to Delaney —standing there, white, angry, stricken—sugges tive of a desire for help, for protection I To pro tect her from him. In that lies the sting-tl), bitterness of it. And to go to Kilgarriff of a men! What, after all, if that old friendship "a- ripening into something warmer. If-even as si had refused him—the Divine spark that lies i> every heart had broken into flame. How oftei does a foolish child, frightened, puzzled by som strange new experience, answer at random, scare knowing its own mind. And yet-and yet- How could he forget Once again she stands upon the stepping stones- once again, she sways and trembles—and oner again—alas! alas! for tlie mornful sweetness <■! a past moment never to be known again—she I within his arms. Shs lies upon his breast willingly, lie feels and knows; against his heat her heart beats. And then the pretty head throw I back, the eyes-such eyes-looking with tha swift, shy rapture into his. It is a momentar glance indeed-a flash. But, oh! what a world o tender love it holds! Yes, she loves him. That one sweet glance hai betrayed her. Though twenty thousand demon yelled the contrary in his ear, he would not believ it. So fair a building could hold within it no bloi no falsity. A thrill of passionate joyousnes, strikes him, as Memory holds him captive at lie, will; and then all at once she releases him, an. the present stands cold and bleak before him with out hope or chance of escape from the thraldon into which he has sold himself, not knowing. There is Norah, a little way off, smiling into Kii, gat-riff's foce, a touch of positive relief on hei lovely face. He feels stunned, inanimate. Bow can he go on like this ? How livt) out the long lif. before him? He rouses himself nngrily, but fail to shake off the dread depression that lias seized ut,oll him. It is absurd, ridiculous, he knows; yet somehow ho feels frightened at the length of day- stretcbing out before his mental view; day, colourles9, verdureless, void of dew, or any othei gracious visitation. What is it—what has happened to him ? (To be continued.)