A daughter of Bohemia
page: Illustration (TitlePage) [View Page Illustration (TitlePage) ]A .~ '~ Ii ~ 1-" ~1' I I it~\ DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. A NOV EL. BY SH RI pSTrI i y E I 1pse4.4 AUTHOR OP "VALERIE AYLMER, "MORTON HOUSEE,~ "NINA'S ATONEMENT," ETC. -WITH ILL USTRA TIONS. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON{ AND COMPANY, 549 & 551 BROADWAy. 18'74. page: 0[View Page 0] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ENmEED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, By 0. APPLETON & CO., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Wasblngtofl. CHAPTER I. "Ah, wsstelbl woman, she who may On her sweet self set her own price, Knowing he cannot choose but pay, How has she cheapened paradise; How given for naught her priceless gift; How spoiled the bread and spilled the wine, Which, spent with due respective thrift, Had made brutes men, and men divine I,' ON one of the most quiet and deeply- shaded of the.shaded streets which are the boast of the pleasant Southern city of Alton, stands a handsome double house with a por' tico in front, and wide piazzas on' the side, running the whole length of the building, and overlooking a flower-garden of consider- able extent and great beauty. Opening by French windows upon the lower of these piazzas is the breakfast-room, into which, on a certain bright morning of May-the 5Th of the month, if any one likes to be particular-roses of 'almost countless number and variety were sending their fra- grance, together with the buoyant air and golden sunshine. The breakfast-table, spread with delicate china and bright silver, occupied the centre of the floor; but, as 'yet no mem- jer of the household had made an appear- ance on the scene. Despite 'the fao~ that the sun had been abouL the business of lighting and warming the earth lQn~ euou~h, it seeme~l, to rouse all ~luggards from repose; despite the impatience of 'the cook, whose mtz~n~ were hopelessly falling, or the gF~omy face of the footman, who held pminctualUy to be a cardinal virtue in masters and mistresses, the clock chimed half-past nine beforee the first step.±~.a leisurely, creaking, somewhat important step--was heard descending the broad, shallow staircase. "I'm blest Ii' there isn't master at last I" said Robert; sardonically. "A nice tisn~ for a man what' calls 'himself a busbies -~~sn to be comm' down to breakfast? N~ t~as the cook expressed her an4ety an~w~vit~i re- gard to the ira~ifflns-J~ I ain't a-~oiz' to take up the' things till they riuig1, for 'em~ He won't want h~s breakfast till som~.liody tomes down to keep him company; 'ba's on~ of the sociable kind whal don'tliko ~o eat by hisself."' The gentleman thus characterized mean- while entered the breakfast-~oQm, newspaper in hand and eye-glass on nose.' "Afii~e4ook- ing, portly gentleman?" was tl~e us~ial' popn. lar verdict on Mr. Middletou; and, for once, the popular verdict was an eintz~uItl~ 4list one., He stood six feet in the' ela~xi~tely- worked slippers which lie were, and, which were innocent of hee1s~ while I~ig size ws~ iii proportion to 'his height. He b~d a fresE, ruddy complexion, ivell-cut features of the nondescript kind, which we se~ on n~nety- nine American faces ~ut of a hunxWedand keen, brown eyes, with a fia~h ~f huniov liz them. Add to this his br9wn'hs~trt~nlng gray, and 1his brown whiskers, worn ~ ~daiee, and you have a pf&ur~ of the man as he sat down' by one of the open wis~do4~, and began to glance over the wsjaperwhlle he w~t~d for the appearance ef"iorne:fea~1ixlne b~4y who could pous~ out his edfee'an~ijgWo a friendly countenance to the' em~t~ table, T4+44 page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] 4 A UAU~.tL1±J~An 'I Robert having been right in saying that he was a sociable man, who did not like to take r his breakfast alone. lie had not long to wait. Before the a clock over the mantel had chimed another h quarter, a lighter, step was heard descending e the staircase, and the sweep of a feminine dress sounded across the hall. A minute c later a Blender, graceful woman of middle age entered the room-a woman who had ~ probably never been pretty, but who had a plainly always been distinguished-looking, and under whose manner of well.brcd repose a great deal of nervous force was latent. She I wore a becoming trifle of a morning-cap on her glossy, dark hair, and was dressed in that sheer, crisp lawn which inspires such refresh- I ing thoughts of coolness on a warm summer morning, so that, despite the fact of his hay- ing been kept waiting for at least ten min- utes, Mr. Middleton smiled as he looked at her. "We are all rather late this morning," said he. "I am afraid an engagement in the house does not agree with us." "Do you think the engagement has any thing to do with our being late?" asked Mrs. Middleton, as she moved across the room and touched a bell, which announced that break- fast might b~ brought up. "I am late be- cause I scarcely slept at all last night; and, after unusual wakefulness, one is apt to fall asleep rather heavily in the morning." "And what was the reason of the unusual wakefulness?" asked her husband. "Rave you never heard of such a thing as cause and effect? I think it probable that you would have slept quite as well as usual if I.~eslie had not come back from her ride yesterday even- ing and informed us that she was engaged to Mr. Tyndale." "Of course, I thought of Leslie," said the lady, deprecatingly. "Row could I help think- ing of her when we are obliged to face-so unexpectedly, too-the necessity of giving her up?" "It ought not to have been unexpected to you. Women generally see such things even before they exist." "They must be very clever women, then," said Mrs. Middleton, with a~ laugh. "I am not a very clever woman, you know, and I am usually content with seeing them when they do exist. I cannot understand my blindness in this instance," she went on, shAking her head as if in rebuke of her own stupidity, MISS GRARAME'S ENGAGEMENT. . unless my state of false security was the action from the nervous suspicion with rhich. I viewed all of Leslie's admirers when he first entered society. I thought every imb a wolf then; and, when the wolf really* ame, I thought him a lamb." "You might have known that this would ome to pass some time, however." "or course I knew it; but I hoped-well, ~ou know wbat I hoped. That is all over iow," said she, sitting down, with a sigh; 'and I suppose there is nothing for it but to LIlOW her to marry the man with whom she ma fallen in love." "If1you are laying that down as a general n4nciplc," said Mr. Middleton, "I must say ~hat I disagree with you. Because Leslie falls in love with a man is no reason whatever for allowing her to marry him - if he should chance to be an undesirable person." "But Arthur Tyndale is not an undesir- able person," said Mrs. Middleton, in a dis- tinctly aggrieved tone. "I did not say that he was," replied her husband. "It was only the general principle to which I objected. Girls are not exactly famous for wisdom of matrimonial choice." "Foolish girls make foolish choices," said the lady, sententiously. "But not girls like our Leslie." "Do you think our Leslie has made a very wise one?" asked Mr. Middleton, sig- nificantly. "I am as sorry as possible that she has made any at all," was the quick reply; "but, as far as the choice itself is concerned, I do not think that it is possible to call it an un. wise one. At least it would be difficult to find an objection to Arthur Tyndale. I know nothing whatever to be said against him." (This in a tone which left a decided impres- sion that the speaker would have been glad if there kad been something to say against him.) "Nor for him!" added her husband, dry. ly. "It is a very great mistake to suppose that a character is admirable when it is mere- ly made up of negatives," he went on, after a short pause. "There are positive virtues, as well as positive vices. Because young Tyn- dale has none of the last, is no earthly reason for taking for granted that of necessity he has all of the first. I don't like him!" he ended, shortly.. "There's not the stuff in him I hoped to find in Leslie's husband." "I think you underrate him," said Mrs. Middleton, in that tone of painful candor with which we bear unwilling testimony to the good name of a person whom privately we have strong reasons for disapproving. "lie is young, well-born, and wealthy-peo- pIe might well think us very unreasonable not to be satisfied; and yet I had so set my heart on Carl-" "Confound Carl I" interrupted Mr. Mid- dieton, irritably. It was not often that he was betrayed into so much heat of expres- sion; but, as he flung his paper aside impa- tiently, it was impossible not to think that he would have liked to fling it at the head of the absent Carl. "What the fellow is doing I can't tell I" he went on, walking to the table and sitting down. "Re certainly pays very little attention to my wishes or requests for his return." "The loss is his!" said Mrs. Middleton- and, as she drew herself up, her color rose. "But the annoyance is ours!" returned her husband, shortly. "I shall have all the vexation of making a will, of dividing and de- ciding about my property-pahaw! Give me a cup of coffee, and let me get down to the bank and drive all this worry out of my head!" The coffee, which had made its appearance by this time, was poured out, and, while Mr. Middleton received his cup, a door opened and closed in the upper regions of the house, a fresh young voice was heard singing several bars of a song, a pair of high French heels came with a quick patter down the staircase, the rustle of soft drapery swept across the hall, and into the breakfast-room entered a slender, graceful girl, with one of those fair, high -bred faces, which instinctively remind one of a white rose. "Good - morning, uncle," she said, drop- ping a light kiss on the top of Mr. Middleton's head-where there was a considerable bald spot-as she passed on her way to her own seat. "Row nice and cool you look!" she went on, scanning him with critical approval as she sat down. "I certainly do like to see men wear linen in summer.-Thanks, yes, auntie-coffee, if you please. I have seen yeas before this morning, have I not?" "I was in your room an hour ago," said Mrs. Middleton; "but I scarcely fancied that you saw me. You seemed fast asleep just then." K "There you were mistaken," said Leslie. "I heard you ask Maria how I had slept-as if Maria knew 1" "I was afraid you might have been fever. ish from having been naught in the rain yes. terday afternoon." "There was scarcely rain enough to wet a pocket-handkerchief," said the young lady, "and Mr. Tyndale insisted on our riding so fast that wedid not have time to get wet. It was delightful, but rather breathless !-I began to feel as if I might emulate the accomplished Dazzle, who could ride any thing, from a broomstick to a flash of lightning, you know." "I suppose it ~did not occur to Mr. Tyn- dale that your horse might have taken fright and broken your neck," said Mr. Middleton, dryly. "Perhaps he looked upon it in the light of a neck which he had a right to break," answered Leslie, composedly. "At least I had told him a short time before that he might have it if he chose." "I don't think he need have been in quite such a haste for all that," retorted 'her uncle. "Time enough for murder after matrimony." Leslie laughed - it is easy to laugh at even the poorest jest when one is young and happy, and the world seems absolutely over. flowing with snnshine-and when she laughed, she looked, if possible, prettier than before. Animation was especially becoming to her face, for it waked all manner of entrancing dimples around her mouth, deepened the deli- cate flush on her cheeks, and kindled a bright gleam in her soft gray eyes. She was a charm- ingly harmonious creature, with an aroma of unconscious refinement about her. Not a line-and-measure beauty, by any means. Not a woman who could defy criticism, or serve under any circumstance as a model for a sculptor. Many a painter, however, might have been glad of such a study as she made, sitting there in the fresh glory of her youth, with a ray of sunlight brightening the silken meshes of her brown hair, and touching with a pencil of light her pure white brow, over which a few light soft tresses wandered free. "A born child of prosperity," almost any one would have said, looking at her, and yet -although life had from her early childhood been a very fair and picasant thing to Leslie Grahame-ahe had not, strictly speaking, been born to the gifts of fortune which she had page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 A 'VAUIJfl1~d~ enjoyed. Her eyes had first opened upon a very different - prospect indeed - the more common prospect of those thorny by-ways and toilsome paths of poverty which are in- tensified in bitterness by memories of gentle rearing and the consciousness of gentle birth. Her father-Mrs. Middleton's only brother- had been a cavalry-officer, who lost his life in a fight with the Comanehes in Texas, Her mother was a weak and foolish woman, who, being little more than a girl at the time of thisevent, cried herself sick in the first two weeks of her "bereavement," then wiped away her tears with the facility of a child, and very soon married again in a manner cal- culatedto draw down upon herself the condem- nation of society and the indignant reprehen. sion of all her friends. These friends, who had objected to her first husband on the score of that impecuniosity which seems to attend the profession of arms in all countries and at all times, felt themselves deeply outraged by this second choice, which quite dwarfed the foolish romance that had made a silly school- girl elope with a penniless soldier. Their re. monstrances, however, were heeded as re- monstrances usually are when those who utter them have only power to-remonstrate. The young widow persisted in bestowing her heart and band upon a plausible, handsome adventurer, of whose antecedents no one knew any thing, and whose habits of life were notoriously disreputable. That he was an Irishman, a slight accent-it could scarce- ly have been called a brogue-betrayed to Anglo - Saxon ears. But, further than that, even gossip was unable to penetrate, for he was only temporarily living in America when he met Mrs. Grahame. Why he married her is one of the mysteries which are beyond the ken of men or angels to fathom; but it is likely that, with an interesting widow in deep crape, he associated some substantial expec- tations-destined, if so, to vanish into the thinnest of thin air. Why she married kim, requires no explanation, for she was one of those women who seem born t~o do fodlish things from their cradles to their graves, and was, besides, of the large class to whom a husband is a sin~ple necessity of life. Im- mediately after their marriage, Mr. Desmond (such was the gentleman's well sounding name) took his wife abroad-the continent of Europ~being then, as now; the grand resort of all Bohemians of his. class-insisting, how~ A TROUBLESOME REQUEST. 7 A Tr~rfm1~1. f~i~ ntATT1~~fY A DVflJ~ilLL~ ever, that she should leave behind the child of her first marriage. She made little demur to this peremptory demand. Mrs. Middle. ton, who had been married several years, was very glad to adopt the little waif~ and, with a tempest of weak tears, the mother parted from her child-as it chanced, forever. For, of course, she never returned. Two children were born abroad, and then, worn out by the vicissitudes of a wandering, shift. ing life, all prettiness gone from her face, all health from her body, all strength (if such a thing had ever existed) from her mind, the poor, faded wreck bowed her head and died. She had kept up a sort of straggling corre- spondence with little Leslie-to whom, in her bright, luxurious home, "mamma" was the dimmest of dim memories-but her other re. nations had long since dropped all communi- cation with her, and there was no one to care particularly when a foreign letter sealed with black came to Mr. Middleton, in which Mr. Desmond informed him that Mrs. Desmond had died on a certain day of a certain month at Coblentz.on-the.Rhine. Mr. Middleton ac- knowledged the receipt of this information by a business-like letter, remarkable only for its brevity; and the result on Leslie's life con- sisted in the fact that, for several months, she was reluctantly compelled to wear black sashes with her white frocks. By the time this young lady grew up, everybody had quite forgotten the poor, fool- ish woman safely laid to rest in her foreign grave. Miss Grahame was a beauty-accord~ ing to the not very high popular standard of beauty-an heiress, and a very bright~ pleas- ant girl besides, so it was ~ot wonderful that she made quite a success at her first appear- ance in society. It was not a success which diminished, either-as successes often do- when season after season rolled away, and the pretty belle remained certainly not unsought, yet assuredly unwon. Perhaps there was safety of heart and fancy in the multitude of her admirers; or perhaps she felt an obliga- tion to brighten, for a few years of her youth, the kind home that had sheltered her child' hood. It is to her credit that Leslie laid much stress on the latter consideration; yet it is likely enough that, if she had ever been seriously "interested," as old-fashioned peo- ple saythis obligation would have shared the fate that such obligations mostly do when opposed to the master-passion of mankind. However this might be, the fact remained the same. Suitors came and suitors went, but Leslie shook her head and said them nay, until one came to whom the girl's. heart sur- rendered with all the more abandon that it had held out stoutly for so long. Why this desirable person, against whom nothing could be said, was not so fortunate as to secure the approval of the guardians as well as the heart of the lady, may be ex- plained in the fact that his wooing and suc- cess had knocked over, like a house of cards, a very pretty little plan which the Middletons had erected for their own present and future satisfaction. Seeing Leslie remain fancy free so long, these good people had been tempted to think what a pleasant thing for them it would be if they could only keep her with them altogether, and, as the best means of attailiing this desired end, they thought of one Carl Middleton-a nephew of the banker -who had been educated abroad, but was shortly expected home-who should, indeed, have been at home considerably before this time. Of course, he could not but fall in love with Leslie-so Mrs. Middleton argued, in the partial fondness of her heart-and, being a frank, pleasant young fellow, with his due share of the Middleton good looks, it was likely enough that Leslie might fall in love with him, in which ease it was a long and happy vista that opened before the astute match-maker's eyes. It ~vill be seen what a bomb-shell to the foundations of this castle in Spain Arthur Tyadale had proved; and also why Mr. and Mrs. Middleton. were not properly grateful to Providence for the many worldly advantages that surrounded Miss Grahame's fortunate suitor. After Mr. Middleton's last remark, there was silence round the breakfast - table for some time. They tried to look and seem as usual, but there was an uncomfortable sense of constraint about them. They each felt, in a different way, that the golden charm of home had been broken-how much or how little no one could tell-that a jarring ele- ment had entered their life, and that, what- ever the future might hold for them, the fair, serene past had ended yesterday. There never were people who, in their domestic life, were more at ease with each other, and it was strange to see how they hesitated just now-each seeming in doubt what to say. Finally, Mr. Middleton spoke again: "I suppose, Leslie, that I shall see Tyn. dale some time this morning?" "He said he would certainly see you," Leslie answered, coloring a little, but other. wise preserving that composure which she had been taught to observe as one of the chief duties of life. "And what am I to tell him?" asked her uncle half jestingly, yet with a certain amount of tenderness in his keen, brown eyes. "Just what you please, I am' sure," an- swered Miss Grahame, quietly. "I told him yesterday all that mattered very much." "So he merely comes to me as a matter of complimentary form?" "Not exactly tlmt. Of course, he knows that. my consent is worth nothing without yours; but then he must also know that ob- jection is out of the question as far as ho is concerned. There is not a flaw to be found in Arthur," added the young lady, proudly. "Well, that is going rather far," said her uncle. "Objection may be out of the ques- tion," he added, reluctantly, "but I would not advise you to make a demi-god of him on that account, my dear. Be content that he is a very clever young fellow, as men go-but with plenty of flaws, you may he sure, when you come to know him. And so" (his voice changing a little), "you are really going to leave us ?-we are really to lose our little girl!" "0 uncle, don't-don't make me cry I" pleaded Leslie, with something like a gasp in her throat, and a tremulous, beseeching glance in her eyes. "I made up my mind this morning that I would not be sentimental or foolish, and that I would look at things from a practical, common-sense point of view. There is nothing whatever to be melancholy about. People are married every day." "That is very true," said Mr. Middleton, "and, according to the same argument, a good many of them die, too; but somehow we don't get used to It." "0 George!" cried his wife, "what a com- parison!" "I am trying to teach Leslie logic, my dear," said George. "You know I never succeeded in teaching it to you. it seems that it is a settled thing, then, that we are to kill the fatted calf," he went on rather hastily -perhaps to do away with the impression of his last remark. "Ihope; however, Tyndale doesn't mean to take possession ofyon at once, VE DVIIGELLA. page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 A DAUGHTER OF ~OHEMIA. ARTHUR TYNDALE. 9 Leslie. He'll spare you to us for some time tocomeeh?" * "I have not asked him any thing about it," answered Leslie; "but I shall not think of being married before the autumn. I "- here she hesitated a minute-.." I have been thinking of something that I should like to ask you, uncle-and you, aunt." "We are all attention," said Mr. Middle- ton, elevating his eyebrows as he glanced up, for such a grave preface was very unlike Leslie. "You may think it very foolish, and you may even think it very unreasonable," said Leslie, looking first at one and then at the other, "but, indeed, I have considered it seriously, and I should like it very mueji, if you have no objection." "My dear," said Mrs. Middleton, "you know that you could scarcely ask any thing which we would not be glad to grant. But, of course, we cannot know what you want unless you tell us." "No-of course not~" said Leslie, laugh. ing nervously. "The fact is," she continued, "I am afraid you will disapprove of my re. quest; but, indeed, I have set my beart on it. How stupid I am I" she went on with a burst of impatience. "I have made you think all sorts of things, when all that I want is to ask you if I may invite one of my sisters to come and see me." It certainly sounded like a~ moderate re. quest, yet one more astonishing, and, in fact, more dismaying, could scarcely have been made. Mr. and Mrs. Middleton looked at each other silently, while. Leslie- after a pause-continued: "You see I have thought so often of poor mamma and of the girls-my sisters---whom I have never known. Only the other day I was reading over mamma's letters, and my heart smote me to think what my life is and what theirs has doubtless been. Of course, I could do nothing for them while I had no home of my own; but-but I shall soon have that, and I should like to know something of them, so as to see how best to benefit them." "No home of your own, Leslie!', repeated Mrs. Middleton. "It seems to me that is a hard thing to say to us." "Dearest aunt, don't you understand I"' said the girl, earnestly. "What I mean is, that I could not ask you to take them as you 'took me. You would have thought it only kindness to me to refuse. But, you see, my engagement seems such a good reason to offer for asking one of them to come, that I thought you would not mind it for a little while. We could see what she is like, you know, and- and if she is nice, I am sure it would be very pleasant for her to live with me until she married, or something of that kind." Again Mr. and Mrs. Middleton looked at each other-this time despairingly. They both saw plainly the nature of the plan which this foolish girl had been building, and they both saw, also, the hopelessness of opposing it. Still, in their different ways, each of them tried a little argument. "The idea is very natural, and does you ~redit, my deat," said Mr. Middleton, "but I think you ought to consider that you may be preparing a great deal of trouble for yourself, by opening any closer communication with such-such people as those." "What kind of trouble?" asked Leslie. Mr. Middleton looked annoyed, and pushed his cup rather sharply away. "I thought you knew that your mother's second husband was an adventurer," he said. "Neither he nor his daughters are fit asso- ciate~ for you." "But I don't want to associate with him," answered Leslie, simply; "and, as for his daughters, they are my sisters. I can't alter that fact, however much I neglect them., And their father's character makes me all the more anxious to do something for' them." "But you may do yourself great injury," urged Mrs. Middleton. "People who remem. ber your mother's second marriage will talk very disagreeably; and Mr. Tyndale may very naturally object to such a connection." Leslie drew herself up like a queen-her fair skin flushing with a tide of blood, which well deserved the poetic epithet of "gener. ous." "You are very kind to think of me as you always have done, auntie," she said; "but I care nothing for what other people may say; and, as for Arthur-he will not be likely to marry me unless he is willing to receive -my sisters into his house." Mrs. Middleton moved uneasily. Nothing could have been more trying to her than to see such an idea as this take possession of Leslie's mind. "My dear," she said, gravely, "can you nottrust your uncle and myself when we as- sure you that these are not people with whom you should burden your life? You have no idea what manner of man your mother's sec. ond husband was; and these girls are not only his daughters, but they have been his associates, and the associat~sof Ins associates, * for years. Leslie! promise me to give up such a foolish scheme." "J3ut," repeated Leslie, "they are my sisters. If I can save them from such a life, oughtlnotto do it?" "Not to the injury of your own life," an- swered her aunt, quickly. "My life is made," the girl returned, with the rash confidence of youth. "They might a noy, but they could not injure me; and an. ~4 oyance I am ready to risk." I "But, my dear child-" "There! there!" broke in Mr. Middle. ton, impatiently, "don't you see that she has set her heart on it, and that no words are go. ing to do any good ?-You've spoiled her, Mil- dred~ now take the consequences, and write and ask the girl to come.-I suppose you don't want both of them?" (looking inter- rogatively at Leslie). "No," she answered; "I have thought it over, and decided that I should prefer the elder-the one who writes to me occasion. ally, and is nearest my age. Her name iS Norah-the other is Kate." "And it is Norah you want?" asked Mr. Middleton, in exactly the tone he might have employed if he had said, "And it is the bay horse you want?" "Yes, Norab, if she will come." "There is very little doubt of that," he said, grimly. "I only hope you may not wish the thing undone after it is irrevocably done," he went on, as he rose to leave the room. "But you can write for her, and your aunt will write, too, no doubt. Meanwhile, I will go and read my paper till Tyndale comes. I hope he won't prove a laggard in his woo. I ing, for I have an appointment at the bank in an hour." -4-.. CHAPTER II. "This is her picture as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when.my~eif am gone." Mn, TY1~DALE did not prove a laggard in ~ his wooing. Before Mr. Middleton had fin- ished his paper-in fact, before he had sue. needed in dismissing Leslie's troublesome re- quest from his mind, so as to satisfactorily master the rates of exchange and the politi- cal intelligencc-..the library-door opened, and a gentleman was ushered in by Robert, who knew the gentleman's business quite as well as he knew it himself. He was a handsome young man of six. or seven-and.twenty, fair- haired, and silken.mustached, with' a com- plexion like a girl's, violet eyes, and a slen- der, elegant figure, which he carried with re- markable grace~ Mr. Middleton met him cordially. Be. cause Arthur Tyn4ale was not the husband whom he would have chosen for his pretty Leslie was no reason why the fortunate suitor should not receive at his hands all the consider. ation which was his due-and a good deal of consideration was esteemed in society Mr. Tyn- dale's due. He not only represented one of the oldest names in the State, but he had come into a large property at his majority, which, as yet, had been very moderately con- verted into ducks and drakes. Tempted, as few men are tempted, by the union of perfect liberty, wealth, and good looks, he had pre. served a very clear record-the record of a thorough-bred gentleman and an unexception- ably "good fellow"-in the face of the world; and, altogether, as Mr. Middleton had already admitted, with some degree of reluctance, there was nothing with which the most carp- ing guardian could possibly have found fault. No one was better aware of these facts than the gentleman himself, in consequence of which his manner was perhaps a little too well assured in preferring his suit. Not that he exhibited any offensive self-confidence-he had too much high-breeding for that-but he was not entirely successful in wholly banish. ing a certain consciousness of safety~ which was a trifle irritating to his companion. All objection being out of the question, however, bhe matter was soon settled, due congratula- ~ions were uttered, hands were shaken, and .hen Mr. Tyndale was at liberty to betake *dmself to the drawing room, where Leslie. vas awaiting him. She was standing when he entered by ~n open window, looking absently out over a ~rcen square, in the tall trees of which a mul- itude of birds were singing, while children )layed and nurses gossiped along the shaded vaiks, and a stream of pedestrians passed page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] THE PHOTOGRAPH. 11 10 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. continually through the wide iron gates.- Hearing his step, she turned, with something even brighter than the May sunshine on her face. "Is it all settled?" she asked, smiling, as he approached; for she knew perfectly well what his answer would be. "It is all settled," he answered, taking her into his arms and kissing her. "You are mine, Leslie!" "AmI?" asked Leslie, drawing back, as if half inclined to dispute the assertion. But then she laughed and yielded to his eager em- brace. "I believe I am," she said, answer- ing her own question with a slight sigh. "Are you sorry for it?" he asked, quickly. "Ah, Leslie, surely not! ~Surely you believe that nobody has ever loved you half so well as I! Wait until I have proved it to you; wait until I have put it tothe test and made you believe it by other signs than mere words; and then tell me, if you dare, that you are sorry for having come to me l" "Did I say I was sorry?" demanded Les- lie. "You should not take things so much for 'granted. If I sighed a little it was only because my freedom is the best thing I have ever possessed; and I don't like the thought of giving it up." "Do you think you will be giving it up to me?" he asked, smiling. "I think time will prove that you have only gained another slave." But, like a true daughter of Eve, Leslie shook her head. "Suppose I don't want another?" she said. "I have had slaves enough. By way of variety, I think I should like to be domi. needed over a little. Just a little, Arthur; not enough to be disagreeable." "I can safely promise that it will be ex~ ceedinglylittle," said Tyndalelaughing. "You were born qucen-regnant, my Leslie, and so I think you will die. At least "-shrugging hii shoulders-" I am sure I have not the where withal to make a tyrant even of the mildesi type. My constitutional indolence rather in dines me to prefer being henpecked. Ii would be a pleasure to be put in leading strings by such fingers as these." He lifted her small, white, lissome hand~ as he spoke, but before he could carry then to'his lips Leslie took them into her own pos session, and, placing one on each of his shoul ders, repeated, with a very gracious sweetness the charming words in which Portia makes her self-surrender: the full sum of me Is sum of something; which, to term in gross, Is an uniessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised: Happy In this, she Is not yet so old lint she may learn; and happier than this, She Is not bred so duilbut she can learn; Happiest of allis, that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king." What Tyndale's answer was, it is not diffi- cult to imagine. The lips which had uttered these words were very near his own, and he was' very much in love. In truth, it was a new side of her character which 'Leslie was showing him just now - a more charming side, he thought, than he had seen yet. She had not been won without difficulty-this fair, proud maiden-she was not a woman to drop like a ripe cherry into any man's hand; but he felt more than repaid for all that she had cost him as the fair, graceful head went down on his shoulder. But it is scarcely worth while to dwell on this part of the interview. Everybody agrees *in considering "engaged" people very tire- some. To the general mind there seems some- thing especially stupid in felicity which is ac- complished and secure. It is likely that we might even weary of Romeo and Juliet, of .3fax and Thekia, if the course of true love had, in either case, run smooth. The reader can afford to be patient, however, with the bit of tame happiness-undisturbed by doubt, untortured by agony-which has just been sketched. As far as one, at least, was con- cerned, it was very nearly the last of cloud- less sunshine. For, before long, Leslie began to bestow confidence and claim sympathy from her lover, on the score of her late discussion with her uncle and aunt. The matter was laid in all its bearings before him, and then she asked I pathetically if he thought she had been un- reasonable or unkind in pressing her point. Mr. Tyndale's reply was prompt and antis- - factory. He agreed with her in everything- though his sympathy partook largely of the - nature of a blind faith, since he evidently had ~nceived only the vaguest possible idea of whole question. Step-sisters, were they? 1 -no, half-sisters. Well, at all events, she - was perfectly right to do all she could for - them. As for their father being an adven- turer-what did that have to do with the matter!' A great many very good people had disreputable fathers; and, indeed, adventurers were sometimes amazingly pleasant fellows- Mr. Tyndale could certify to that from per- sonal knowledge. Besides, were not their friends the Middletons just a trifle narrow- minded and old - fashioned in their ideas? Perhaps the gentleman in question only lived rather a fast life, as gentlemen often did abroad - and at home, too, for that mat. ter. Leslie was much comforted by these lib- eral opinions; but over the latter theory she shook her head. "I am afraid the father is certainly a very dreadful person," she said; "but still, his daughters are my sisters, and I am so glad- so very glad-.-that you agree with me about them." "Of course I agree with you," said Mr. Tyndale, secretly a good deal bored, for he had not come to talk over disagreeable family questions with his pretty lady-love. "It is never good style to cut one's relations unless they are absolutely disgraceful. Now, these may be very charming girls, despite the fact of their father being a chevalier d'industrie-.-.. for, I take it, from what you say, that is just about what he is. Fortunately, he is not re- lated to you, so it will be easy enough to drop him." "Oh, 'certainly," answered Leslie, hastily -having 'never had the least intention of tak- ing him up in the first instance. "It is such 'a relief to find that you are not prejudiced, as some men would have been, Arthur," she went on. "Aunt Mildred really made me quite uneasy. She said you would be sure to object to such a connection." "My ilarling, a man who has seen as much of the world as I have has no prejudices," said Mr. Tyndale, superbly. "And as to ob- jecting to the connection-I am afraid I should not be sufficiently orthodox to object to Old Nick, if I had to take him along with you.~~ "I am very much obliged to you for the association of ideas." "I only wanted to put it as forcibly as possible. It would be hard lines if any of us were accountable for our relations-much less for anybody whom our relations may take it into their heads to marry! There never was .a man more cursed with disagreeable rela- tions than I have been," he pursued, frank- ly. "Except Max, I really don't'think there's a decent one among the whole rank and file." "But none of them are chevatier.s d'iadus- trie?" "No-they rather go in for the heavy, respectable line. But I have seen a good many ehevaliers d'industrie whom I would take, ten to one, so far as agreeable quali- ties go." "What a pity your friends could not hear you I" said Leslie, laughing. "Disagreeable relations must be exceedingly unpleasant, however. Fortunately, I have never been tried by them. I often wonder what my sis- ters are like," she we1nt on, musingly. "They may be nice-mamma came of very nice peo- pIe, you know. Then Norah's photograph is certainly very pretty. Don't you feel prepos- sessed toward pretty people? I always do. A pr~pos, I must showyou her photograph, and see what you think of it." "Never mind just now," said Tyndale, who, being comfortable, felt indolent. "I don't mean to be ungrateful-but you can show it to me any time, you know; and I care little for the photograph of any woman under the sun, while I have you beside me." "That is very complimentary," said Les- lie; "but still I want you to see Norah's likeness. You are one of the few people whose judgment I can trust with regard to beauty; and I think she is beautiful." "Is she?" asked he, carelessly. "Well, if it must bc-where is the picture?" "It is hanging in my room. Ring the bell, and I will send for it." Tyndale rang the bell; but, after a mes- sage had been dispatched by Robert to Miss Grahame's maid, he entered a feeling protest against the proceeding. "Cannot this wait?" he asked. "It is not often that Fate gives us such a happy hour as this-why should we bring the every-day things of life to jar upon it? Why can't we fancy ourselves in paradise or Arcadia, where sisters and step-fathers never come?" Some women would have been offended by the frankness of this speech; but Leslie only laughed-laughed and extended her'hand to Maria, who entered at that moment with a photograph mounted and framed in velvet and gilt. "I think the truth is, that you are terribly bored," she said, after the maid was gone. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] LESLIE'S SISTER. 13 12 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. "Still, if you desire it, we will not talk of the matter any more. But you must look at Norah's picture for all that." She held up the picture as she spoke, and bending slightly -for he was rather near- sighted-Arthur Tyndale saw the face stamped thereon with what Mr. Collins calls "the stern justice of photography." It was not a very stern justice in this in. stance; nor was it a face which, having seen once, any man would be likely to forget-and Tyndale, as it chanced, had cause to know it well. He was a man of. the world, and, ac- cording to the fashion of his class, had him- self pretty well in hand against awkward sur- prises; but the awkwardness-the terrible uneipectedness-of this, threw 'him complete- ly off his guard. "Good Heaven!" he said, before he knew what he was about. "Why, it is Norah Des- mond!" "What !-do you know her?" cried Les- lie, in uncontrollable amazement. "Of course, it is Norah-who else should it be? But do you know her, Arthur?" "Is siw your ~ asked Tyndale, hur- riedly-his fair skin several shades fairer than it had been the minute before. "She- this girl?" "Of course, she is my sister," repeated Leslie, more and more astonished. "Do you know her ?-have you seen her? You must have seen her to recognize her picture. But where was it? How strange it seems that you should know her!" "Yes-very strange!" said he, with lips' that slightly quivered. "But coincidences happen very often, you know, and-and you are sure there is no mistake, Leslie?" he cried, again. "You are sure this is the like- ness of your sister?" "What possible mistake could there be?" asked Leslie. "Norah sent mc the picture as her likeness. I have never seen her, however. 'If you have, you ought to know whether or not it is she." "Yes, it is she," he answered-looking at the pictured face before him, and, hating its brilliant fairness with all his heart, he still could not deny that it was she. "But you have not told me yet how you met her--or when-or where!" said Leslie, eagerly. "Of course, it must have been abroad; but tell me all about it. How strange it seems that you should have seen her and not know that she was my sister! Tell me all about it, Arthur!" "Don't be impatient," said 'he. "I-I will tell you." Then he stopped a second, as if to clear his throat, and reviewed the situa- tion in his mind. It was rather a desperate one; and, seeing only'a single avenue of es- cape, he determined to lie, with a readiness of resource which would have done credit to the hero of a French play. "It does not fol- low that I know Miss Desmond because I recognize her likeness," he went on. "Any man who has been to Baden-Baden, or to Homburg, might do that. She is somewhat of a celebrity at all those places." The significance of his tone was more marked than his words. The bright blood sprang into Leslie's face, and her eyes opened on him with a look for which he was not prepared-a look that almost made him sorry for having implied so much. "What do you mean?" asked she, some- what haughtily. "I confess I do not under- stand." "Don't look that way, my darling," he answered, hurriedly. "I only mean that- that Miss Desmond is a very fast woman. And that I was-that I am-exceedingly sur- prised to find that she is your sister." "Norah 1- are you sure it is Norah?" cried Leslie. And then-as she, too, felt that the face before her was not one to be mis- taken -" 0 Arthur, how sorry, how very sorry I am! But think what a training the poor girl has had!" the eager, loyal voice went on. "No mother, and such a fa- ther! Is it any wonder that she should be fast?" "I do not think that I have expressed any' wonder at the fact," said Mr. Tyndale, quite dryly. "I am so sorry!" Leslie repeated. For a minute she could say nothing more. Then she went on quickly-too much preoccupied to notice his face very closely - "I am so sorry, too, that you did not know her! You could have told me so much about her; and I feel as it' I should like to know something before she comes." "Before she comes!" Tyndale could do no more than utter just that. "Before she comes, Leslie Do you mean that you are still thinking of bringing that girl here-after what I have told you?" His tone took Leslie by surprise, and did not please her. She had a spirit of her own, and Arthur Tyndale saw a flash of it then. "Why do you suppose that I should not be thinking of it?" she asked. "I have told you that Norah is my sister, and that I mean to ask her to come and visit me. You have told me nothing concerning her which need alter that intention." "I have told you that she has a very fast reputation," he said, quickly-almost sharp- ly. "And when dd a fast reputation become such a crime in your eyes?" she inquired. He colored a little. Only a few weeks before, he had been flirting desperately - in the vain hope of making Leslie jealous-with a pretty widow, whose escapades were so many and so flagrant that she required all the bolstering of wealth and family position to maintain a foothold in society. A ready reply rose to his lips, however-.a true enough reply, too, since of the many men who like to flirt with fast women, only a small proportion like to marry them. "It was always a crime when it came in contact with you," he said. "If there is one thing I desire on earth, it is to keep such women at arm's length from you, Leslie. But it will be impossible to do that if you persist in asking this sister of yours here. Leslie, my darling, trust me in the matter, and promise not to do it!" If Leslie had been a shade less stanch in her resolve, he would probably have suc- ceeded then, for his handsome eyes pleaded even more powerfully tlsn his words. But the girl was true as steel to her generous pur- pose, and she did not yield. "Arthur, dear, don't tempt me," she said. "Somehow I feel as if I must do this-as if I must give Norah at least one chance in life. You can't tell how much I want to do it-if only for poor mamma's sake." "You owe a vast deal to the mother who left you behind her without a regret," he said, bitterly. "I do not think she left me without a re. gret," answered Leslie, flushing. "But, even if it were so, it would not alter my duty." "That is to say, your inclination." "I am sorry you think so," she replied, half proudly; "but you are mistaken. If I consulted my inclination, I should do exactly what. you wish. Even now" then she stopped and hesitated a minute -"tell me frankly, Arthur," she went on, "you are a man and should know best. The charge you have brought against my sister is a very in- definite one. Is there any reason why she should not be invited to my uncle's house?" She faced him with her clear, candid eyes, and seemed to demand an answer as straight- forward as her question. It is humiliating to confess, but, with every inclination to con- tinue the course which he had so gallantly opened, Mr. Tyndale found himself compelled to speak the truth. "There is no reason," he said, "unless you consider what I have already mentioned as a reason." But Leslie, as if~reIieved, shook her head and laughed. "How terribly strait-laced you have be- come all at once!" she said. "It is such a sudden thing that I think it must be an acute attack, and I can trust Norah to cure you. Poor Norah! Why is that so terrible in her, which is so charming in Mrs. Sandford?" Tyndale muttered something not very complimentary to Mrs. Sanford under his breath. Then he made one final effort. "Leslie," he said, gravely, "do you mean to say that you are going to disregard the first-the very first-request which I have ever made to you?" Leslie looked at him with a sudden keen- ness in her soft gray eyes which he did not quite fancy. She was not by, any means a fond, foolish girl to be hoodwinked at a man's pleasure, but a clever woman, who had not lived twenty-two years in the world for noth- ing. It struck her just now that there was an undue amount of eagerness and interest In Tyndale's manner. "You force me to believe that there is something more in this than you have told me, Arthur," she said. "You have not here- tofore counted fastness so terrible' a crime 'that it alone should influence you so strongly against my sister. Again I ask-in fact, I demand - why you object so much to her coming?" "I have told you why," he answered. "You need not fear that I am concealing any thing from you. If you do not trust me-" "It is not that I do not trust you-trust you fully and entirely," she interrupted, with a sincerity which made him wince. But ybu think of me, Arthur, while I think of Norah page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] CAPTAIN TYNDALE AND 1115 COUSIN. 15 14 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. -poor Norah, who has never had a chance out of that wild Bohemia where she was born. I cannot give up the hope of doing her some good, even "-she paused just here-" even if the iss'e involved giving up you." "You could face that alternative with due philosophy, perhaps," said he, bitterly. Then he added suddenly and passionately: "But it ~vill never involve that, Leslie-never, so help me God, so far as I am concerned!" It was a strange, vehement oath to take in such a connection, and sounded almost as if be wished to bind himself by something which even himself could not break. -.4-- CHAPTER III. "Ay, there are some good things in life that fall not away with the rest, And, of all best things upon earth, I hold that a faithftil friend is the best. For woman, Will, is a thorny flower: It breaks, * and we bleed and smart; The blossom falls at the fairest, atid the thorn * 6runs into the Iheart. And woman's love is a bitter fruit; and, however he bite it, or sip, There's many a man has lived to curse the taste of that fruit on his lip. But never was any man yet, as I ween, he he whosoever he may, That has known what a true friend is, Will, and wished that knowledge away." ON the evening of the same day, Mr. Tyn- dale dined at his club. This was not a suffi. ciently remarkable occurrence to be worthy of note, if it had not chanced that he had been invited to dine with the Middletons, and had declined, on the score of a previous en- gagement. Yet, at seven o'clock he was sit- ting down to dinner quite alone-facing rather moodily a deserted dining-room and a solitary servant; for most diners at the club had van- ished before this time. Although he was alone-and had finished his dinner, too-the table where he sat bore another cover, at which he new and then glanced with an ex- pression half vexed, half ezpectant. Plainly he had anticipated a eompan~bn, and quite as plainly this companion had not arrived. "Is there no sign of Captain Tyndale yet?" he asked impatiently of the servant, who, hearing a carriage stop at the door, made a short excursion of curiosity to the window. "Captain Tyndale has just arrived, and is Coming in, sir," was the somewhat unexpected reply; and, as Arthur glanced up quickly, the person thus indicated entered the room. A tall, handsome man, with clear, bold feat- ures, mustache so long that they looked as if they ought to be very much in his way, dark eyes more keen than brilliant, a close crop of dark hair, and the weatherbeaten look of one on whom many suns had shone and many rains fallen. He came forward, and, sitting down in the vacant chair opposite Tyndale, laughed good-humoredly. "I am amazingly punctual, am I not?" he said. "Is that what you are looking so glum about ?-or is it the heat? By Jove 1 it is infernally warm! I never felt any thing like it out of Algiers." "When one asks a man to dine at seven o'clock," said Tyndale, "one does not usually expect him at half-past that hour." "I am very sorry," said the other, apolo- getically. "I really meant to be on time- but what can one do against Fate? I met Mrs. Sandford in her pony-phacton an hour ago, and she insisted on taking me round the park. I whipped up famously, I can tell you, when I found what the hour was; but it hasn't been two minutes since she dropped me at the door." "Oh, if it was a ease of is tells inure, I can readily excuse you," said Tyndale, with a laugh. "She is one in a thousand for mak- ing a man forget time.-Have claret, Max ?- Handsome, isn't she?" "Thanks-yes," said Max, alluding to the claret. "Well, no-I don't think I should call her particularly handsome," he said, al- luding to Mrs. Sanaford. "Her complexion is good, and she ha~ a great deal of style- not much else, that I can perceive. V - "That is half the battle." "Of course-with a certain class of men. Not with you and me, Hal." Max Tyndale had called his cousin "Hal" ever since they were boys, for no earthly rca- son that any one could discover, except that it was not his name. He looked up now and laughed, raising his glass of iced claret to his lips. "Not with me, certainly," said Tyndale. "Still, she is a pretty woman, and very good company, as the phrase goes." I' Charmingly free and easy company, at any rate," said Max, dryly. "We advanced toward intimacy with seven-league boots this evening. It is convenient, at least, to meet a woman who takes all the trouble of making acquaintance off one's hands. She told me all about herself with engaging frankness; and asked so much about my affairs, that I really anticipated her inquiring how much a year I spend on cigars." "Probably she did not take sufficient in- terest in that subject." "So I supposed, from the fact that she did not ask. She made up for the emission, however, by inquiries sufficiently minute con- cerning you.~~ "That was kind of her," said Tyndale, in a tone of only half-veiled contempt. "So I thought-considering all things! She was particularly anxious to know if you are engaged to Miss Grahame." "And you told her-?" "That I knew absolutely nothing of your affairs." "She didn't believe you, Max." "No, I don't suppose she did," said Max, philosophically. "Women rarely do believe the truth. That was good advice Satan gave Festus-you remember it, don't you?" "I can't say that I do," answered the other, carelessly. "If I had been able to catch a glimpse of you any time last night or to-day," he went on, "you might have grati- fied Mrs. Sandford's curiosity by letting her know that I am engaged to Miss Grahame." Max Tyndale started, changed color - a fact which was apparent even through his bronzed skin - and looked keenly at his cousin. "Is that a fact, Hal?" he said. "Yes, it is a fact," Arthur answered. "Do you remember that I had an engagement to ride with her yesterday afternoon? Well, we went, and before we got back the matter was settled." "I knew, of course, that it was coming," said Max, looking at his claret. "But some- howl did not expect it quite so soon. Things always come unexpectedly, though, don't they? By Jove! "(with a slight laugh), "how Mrs. Sandford would have been astonished if I had been able to give her the news!" "You take it coolly," said Arthur, a little piqued. "Parbleu I my dear fellow, how else should I take it-especially when you set me such a good example?" said the other, open- ing~his dark eyes quickly. "Rhapsodize a little, and then I shall know how to he a lit- tie more effusive." " Nonsense!" said Arthur, shortly~ "Whatever a man feels, you know that, if he has again of sense, he never rhapsodizes. I don't care a fig for your effusion; but you might acknowledge that the man whom Les- lie Grahame accepts is somewhat luckier than the most of his fellows." "That is easily acknowledged," said the other, heartily. "I congratulate you hon- estly on your luck! In all my wanderings about the world, I have never seen a more charming woman than Leslie Grahame." "I think she is charming," said Arthur. "My opinion just no* is not worth very much -being that of a man in love-but I remem- ber how mut~h her grace and refinement struck me when I met her first. I could sooner cut my throat than marry a fast wom- an or a flirt 1" he added, suddenly, and, as it seemed, savagely. Max shrugged his shoulders. He sup. posed his cousin was thinking of Mrs. Sand. ford. "They serve very well to pass the time," he said. "One would not think of comparing them with such a woman as Miss Grahame, though." "Leslie suits me exactly," said Tyndale. "I really never expected to find a woman who would suit me half so well. Without being beautiful, she is exceedingly pretty. Without being intellectual, she is clever. Without being an angel, she is amiable; and without being a vixen, she is high-spirited.- What are you laughing at, Max?" "Excuse me," said Max. *"It only struck me, my good fellow that if you had said at once, 'She is perfection,' it would have shortened the matter." "But she is not perfection, nor, thank God, likely to he!" said Arthur, irritably. "Why do you misunderstand me? I am not rhapsodizing like a fool-I am telling you sanely and sensibly why Leslie Grahame suits me better than any other woman could. Even you-who are not in love with her-can't say that I exaggerate." "I don't say it," answered the other, slightly blushing. "I think you are perfect- ly right. I think Leslie Grahame is all that you have said-and more besides!" "Thank you!" said Tyndale, gratefully. "Well, acknowledging all this, ask yourself N page: 16 (Illustration) [View Page 16 (Illustration) ] 16 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ii ''I if it Is not the devil's own luck which puts my possession of it in such jeopardy that a day - an hour may part me from Leslie Grahame forever!" Captain Tyndale was in the act of filling his glass, but he put it down to look at his cousin. Had the wine mounted to his head? The suspicion crossed Max's mind, but the eyes which met his own, though rather gloomy, were perfectly sober. "You think I am jesting," Arthur said, as he met his glance. "You are mistaken. I am in earnest-so earnest that I mean to make a clean breast of every thing, and ask your advice concerning the cursed predica- mentin which I find myself." "All right," said Captain Tyndale, falling into the familiar phrase half mechanically- for he was strangely puzzled by Arthur's tone and manner. "Will you fill your glass? No? Tlet~ let us go out on the balcony and smoke a cigar. We can talk at our leisure there; and I confess I am stifling here." "It is hot," said the other, loosening his cravat with a jerk. "I never felt such weath- er in May before. At least, there's darkness and fresh air here," he went on, stepping out on the balcony of which his cousin had spoken. "Bring a chair out, Max, and let us be comfortable. Have you any engage- meat?" "None of any importance," answered ~tax, coming out laden wit~ a chair. "I think my lionhood-.is that ~xpresRion cor- rect ? - we say bellehood, y~l know must be over. I have only recefred about half a dozen invitations this week.' "It is the season which is over," said Tyndale, striking a match and lighting his cigar. "People are getting languid with the warm weather-even too languid to lionize a captain of chasseurs who won the cross of the Legion in Algeria and a broken head at Gravelotte." "Stuff!" said the captain of ehasseurs, lighting his cigar in turn. It ifiny have been stuff; but it was true, nevertheless. Max Tyndale-who had served for several years in the French army-~de. served a great deal of credit that his head had not been wholly turned by the amount of lionizing which society had showered on him during the season now closing. Of course it was not qnly because he had received the Cross of the Legion in Algiers, or that he had distinguished himself by so much personal gallantry during the Franco- Prussian War, that he had won his grade where a soldier likes best to win it-on the field of battle. These things make a man respected among men, and, in a degree, admired among wom- en, but they do not of themselves win for him that capricious homage of society which may be despised by the wise, but the subtle flattery of which even the wisest are not al- ways able to withstand. There must be other gifts-personal gifts-to make the hero of battle-fields also a hero in drawing-rooms. These gifts Max Tyndale possessed-at least, in a measure. He was handsome, sufficiently accomplished, and unmistakably thorough- bred, besides which he had that graceful ease of manner-especially with women - which some men bear like a seal of distinction ; and yet there was nothing of the carpet-knight about him. In truth, the principal reason why he had been little spoiled by the flattery and attention so freely paid him, rested in the fact that he cared absolutely nothing for any triumph which society could give. His heart was in sterner conflicts, and bent on more tangible rewards. Ambition was his mistress at present, and she left him little leisure or thought for any other. With regard to worldly circumstances, there was a great difference between the two cousins. Arthur Tyndale had inherited, as sole heir, the accumulated wealth of several generations. Max had his pay, and perhaps a few hundreds besides-certainly nothing more. It is doubtful, however, if this dif. ference weighed for a moment in the thoughts of either. Thoy were not men to think or care for such a barrier. The same blood beat in their veins, and, apart from kindred ties, they liked each other sincerely, so it mattered very little that one was a million- aire and the other a mere soldier of fortune. Whatever their other faults, wealth in their eyes had none of the glamour with which more vulgar natures regard it. "Every thing is as it should be," Max told his cousin once. "You are the head of the house-I am only a cadet.' Don't think that I envy you an acre of your land, or a centime of your for- tune. On the contrary, I am heartily glad that there is somebody to keep up the old name in due state. We're both Tyndales- that is enough for us." It had been enough to draw them togeth. 16 page: -17[View Page -17] A SERIOUS DIFFICULTY. 17 er very warmly when they had met a few years before-it had been enough, also, to bring Max on a furlough to America, when he was sick in body, mind, and heart, after the failure of the French cause. Arthur's almost aflhctionate kindness, the petting of women, and the liking of men, had, however, gone very far toward enabling him to recover his old tone. As he sat opposite Tyndale at the dinner-table, which they had just quitted, he had not looked as if his hopes or thoughts had in any sense gone into exile at Chisel. hurst; or kept anxious watch with M. Thiers over the ofttimes-born republic. Considering that they were in the heart of a busy city, the street which the two youug men overlooked from their balcony was rather a quiet one. Few pedestrians passed, only now and then a carriage; gas. lamps shone through the heavy foliage of green trees, and the serene starlight was able to assert itself quite well. The club-house was blazing with gas, but somewhat empty. Now and then came the clink of billiard-balls, or the sound of voices; but there was little to remind them of the neighborhood of others. "1 am all attention," Max at last sug- gested, when he found that his cousin kept silence after some time had passed. Even then, Tyndale did not speak imme- diately. lie took his cigar from his lips, and knocked oil' the ashes before he said: "Of course it is a woman U' "So I supposed," said the other, coolly. Then, after a pause, "Has it any thing to (10 with the pretty avidow?" "If you mean Mrs. Sandford," said Tyn. dale, contemptuously, "I should think you could tell for yourself that she is not the kind of woman a man ever gets into serious trouble about." "There is still another, then!" said Max. "Upon my word, you would make a good Turk, Hal! Suppose you emigrate to Con. stantinople - or perhaps Salt Lake might serve your purpose, since it is nearer home I" ~'This is no jesting matter," said Tyn. dale, half vexed. "If you can keep serious, Max, for ten minutes, I wish you would. Do you remember when I was in Paris two years ago-hearing me speak of a girl I had met at Baden? An Irish girl. Norah Des. mond was her name." "Really, my dear fellow, you spoke of so many girls,"' said Max, in a puzzled tone, 2 am not sure that I remember this special one. What about her?" "You must remember her," said the er, pettishly. ~' You never heard me speak of any other as I spoke of her, for I was a confounded fool about her just then. She was certainly the prettiest woman 1 saw abroad, as well as the most fascinating." "I think I do remember something about an Irish girl," said Captain Tyndale, after a pause. "Her father Was a sort of Robert Macaire, wasn't he?" "Exactly! A more disreputable person you can't conceive; but you might have thought him a crown prince, from the way his daughter carried herself. She had the pride of an archduchess, and the temper of the devil!" "An interesting combination !" said the captain of chasseurs, dryly. "By Jove, you might have said so if you had seen her I" answered the other, with sudden enthusiasm. "I would match her against any woman on the Continent for turn- ing a man's head in the shortest possible time-if she had a mind to do it." "She seems to have had a mind to turn 'yours.~, "I think she-had," said he, coolly, "and she succeeded-after a fashion. We had a fine flirtation for a month or two, and, when at last I was obliged to come home, I should be afraid to say to how much or how little I bound myself." "That's unlucky!" said Max, still speak- ing very dryly. "It's the devil's own luck!" repeated his cousin, fiercely - for, it is astonishing how people anathematize luck, or the devil, or any other comrt'enient abstraction, when the consequences of their own deeds begin to be unpleasantly felt. "She is not likely to trouble you, though -is she?" said Max. "A woman like that would be very a~t to keep her distance-even if the Atlantic was not between you." "But the trouble exactly is, that the At- lantic will not be between us very long," said Authur, gloomily. "Max, imagine if you can, what I felt to-day when I heard that Norak Desmond is Leslie Graham's sister!" "What!" "There is no possible doubt about it; and she L~shie - has written for her to come here!" 17 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] PROPOSED VISIT TO ROSLAND. 19 1$ A DAUGhTER OF BOHEMIA. "The devil!" said Captain Tyndale. - "I think it must be the devil - and all his fiends to boot!" responded the other, grimly. There was a minute's silence before Max recoveredd himself enough to apeak. "You are sure this is not a jest, Arthur?" he said, then. "I confess I scarcely under- stand it. How could Miss Grahame have a sister of whom you never heard?" "That i~ easily explained," Tyndale an- swered-and he explained it in a few words -after which he added: "On my soul, Max, I have not an idea what to do. The whole af- fair looks to me desperate. Turning it over in my mind, as I have been doing all day, I see not the least clew out of the difficulty." "Stop a minute," said Max, "and let mc make It clear in my own mind. I had not a thought it was so serious as this, or I should have paid more attention. In the first place, are yon engaged to the girl ?" "To Norah? I suppose I was engaged to her when I left Europe." "And you have never broken it off?" "Well-no." Then, after a pause, "You see it was this way: I came home in the au- tumn of '69, with an understanding that I was to go back for her the next spring. I was very much in love, of course, and kept up a correspondence for some months-con- found it, Max, no doubt she has every one of ~hose letters yet!" "She must be a fool if she has not. Never ~nind the letters-go on." "That winter I met Leslie Gmahame-I had not been here for years before, you know -and, from the very first, I saw she suited me as no woman ever had suited me before. I had been a mad fool about Norah Desmond, but I knew all the time she was no wife for me-setting aside the unpleasant fact of her disgraceful father." "A very unpleasant fact, I should think!" conimented Max, in whose conception family pride was second only to professional honor. "In a short time I recognized the folly of the whole thing, and made up my mind to end it. But that was not very easily done. I stopped writing, but I could not resolve to take any more decisive step. People talk of boarding lions, but, by Jove! I would rather beard a dozen lions than Norab Desmond, when her Celtic pride and temper are fairly in arms. Sothe spring of "70 came on. She wrote once or twice to ask if I was ill, or why I had not written. I did not answer the letters1 and they stopped." "Well?" said Max, as the voice stopped also. "Well, the war came on in the summer, and cut off communication, you know. I can't say that I was sorry for* it; and, from that time, I heard nothing of Norah-until to-day. Then Leslie fired the whole thing upon me like a mine of gunpowde~." "It is certainly an awkward state of af. fairs," said Captain Tyndale, after a pause of some duration, during which be had smoked like a furnace, and, it is to be supposed, re- flected like a sage. His cousin had not a very sensitive ear, or he might have detected an accent of contempt in the tones of his voice, despite its studied modulation. In truth, it had been a sorry story, and this cool, clear - headed soldier was the Inst man in the world to sympathize with its mingled weakness and cowardice. "It is worse than awkward," said Tyndale. "There is no telling what will be the upshot of it, for a prouder woman than Leslie Gra. hame does not live; and I could see plainly enough this morning that her uncle was not by any means anxious for my alliance. If I had only known this yesterday-" "You would not have asked Miss Gm- hame to marry you?" "I should have deferred doing so, at all events, until I could have had some under. standing with that "-a gulp-" that girl in Europe." "She will certainly come, I suppose?" "You may count on that" (savagely). "She will come, if only for the pleasure of discomfiting me." Captain Tyndale took his cigar from his lips, and rolled a whole cloud of smoke from under his mustache before lie spoke. Then lie said "It is an* ugly business, and you are in for it emphatically. Frankly, I see hut one course for you-though I am not at all sure you will adopt it." "Aid that-" "Is to go to Miss Grahame and make a candid statement of the whole affair. If I know any thing of women, you may save your- self by that move, and by that only." "YoU may know something of women," said his cousin, coldly, "but you don't know any thing of Leslie Grahame~ She would never forgive such a wound to her pride." "Is the wound likely to be less severe when she finds that you have been playing the r4le of accepted suitor to her, while you were engaged to her sister?" "Suppose she never knows it?" "I have only judged by what you told me, but I should not think such a woman as you lave described could readily be induced to forego so good an opportunity of revenge." "We shall see," answered Tyndale. "I-I think that I may induce her to see that her best policy is silence." "Cynics tell us that every woman has her price," said Max, carelessly. "Of course, you know best whether or not Miss Desmond has hers. Only, I warn you, it is a perilous game you are going to play." "At all events, it is better than throwing up my hand, as you advise." " I didn't advise that, exactly; but I do advise you to avoi(l a course of temporizing which can only end by placing you in a more hopelessly false position than you occupy at present." "XVe shall see," said Tyndale, sullenly. "When the whole thing comes out, as it sooner or later must, it will lay you open ~o a very serious charge of dishonor," said his cousin, a little sternly, as it seemed. "It is not likely to come to that, I trust," said Tyndale. "Anyhow, there is nothing to do but to let things drift. When tle tug of war comes, I can rely on you for aid-eh, old fellow?" "You know that," said the other. But in his heart he wished the aid had been demanded in a better cause. ChAPTER IV. "So, woukist thou 'seape the coming ill, Implore the dread Invisible Thy sweets themselves to sour! ~Ve1l ends his life, believe me, never On whom with hands thus full forever, The gods their bounty shower." IT is doubtful whether the self-constituted jury of society was ever more unanimous in rendering a verdict of approval than when Leslie Grahame's engagement to Arthur Tyn- dale became publicly known.. "What an ex- cellent match!" people said with one accord. How very suitable in every particular!" Even the young ladies who had cast~ their nets unsuccessfully for the fish who had landed himself at Leslie's feet, acknowledged that, if matches arc ever made in heaven, this special match bore every mark of celestial appointment. Both the parties concerned were so young, so handsome, so charming, and so wealthy, that it was like the ending of a novel or a fairy.talc, where everybody is paired off with such a delightful balance of personal and worldly gifts. A few days after the engagement became an accomplished fact, and while people were still talking of it in the few informal gather- ings which they pei'mitted themselves during the languid heat which had come upon them, the Middletons held a family council to de- cide where their summer should be spent. Somewhat to the surprise of her uncle and aunt, Leslie cast her vote for the neglected shades of Rosland-a pleasant country-scat, conveniently near the city, which they had not seen for several years. "I am tired of watering-places, and sum- mer traveling, and summer sight-seeing," the young lady said. "No, uncle, I ddn't think that the mountains, or the sea, or Canada, or the lakes, will tempt me. I have a fancy to go back to dear old Rosland and spend the summer in the luxurious dokefar niente which, after all, one can only enjoy under one's own vine and fig-tree. Besides, I know that you and Aunt Mildred are tired of dissipation, and would like a little quiet once in a way. "We are anxious to consult your wishes, my dear," said Mrs. Middleton. "Of course it would be pleasant to go to Rosland; but I am afraid you will find it very dull, Leslie. You know you have not been there since you were grown." "It is for that very reason I want to go," said Leslie. "I used to be so happy there; and, as for being dull, I want to be dull. I am tired of dissipation. And, if Norah comes, we must have some settled habitation in which to receive her." "That does not follow. She will proba- bly not arrive until July; and she could join us if we were at a watering-place, or accom- pany us if we were traveling." "She might not like to do either." "No-she might not like it," said Mrs. Middleton, slowly. She had not thought of Miss Desmond in connection with their sum- page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] MRS. SANDFORD. 21 20 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. mer plans before; but, thinking of her now, she began to agree with Leslie that Rosland would, after all, be the best place for them. Them wa~ no telling what sort of a creature this Bohemian girl might prove to be, and, in view of possible contingencies, a quiet coun- try-house was the safest and most desirable retreat. "If she is what she may be, it would do incalculable harm to Leslie to introduce her into society !" thought the most refined and fastidious of ek~ie1eines, with an uncon- scious shudder at her own share in such an affliction. "But what will Mr. Tyndale think of your burying yourself at Rosland?" she asked, at length. "Of course we shall be very glad to see him there; but no doubt he expected to join o~ir party at some gayer place." Sh~spoke this very innocently, when, glancing up, she saw a gleam in Leslie's eyes, and a smile on her lip which threw a sudden ray of light on the young lady's unexpected pastoral fancy. "Have you forgotten who is our next neighbor there?" she asked, with a laugh. "No, I don't mean the Covingtons "-as Mrs. Middletonts lips unclosed-" I mean on tiw otiser side. Have you forgotten that our grounds adjoin those of the Tyndale place? Arthur and I have talked it' all over. We are both tired of the gossip and flirtation that make ~tip watering-place life, and he has not been down, to look at his old home since he was a boy. So we are going to enjoy our summer in a sane1 sensible, Arcadian fashion for once." "I don't see why you could not have said as much without all this discussion, then!" remarked Mr. Middleton. "It seems, Mil- dred, that you and I may resign ourselves to the mie of puppets, Mr. Tyndale being gra- ciously pleased to pull our strings through this young lady, who, like all the rest of bKer sex, must needs double fifty times about her point when she might save trouble by making straight for it." "I was no~ doubling," answered Leslie, indignantly. "I said from the first I wanted to go to Rosland-didn't I, Aunt Mildred ?-I was not obliged to remind you that the Tyn- dale place was next ours. You might have rememberodAhat without my aid. If you are anxious for* a watering-place, uncle, you may go by yourself, I am sure. Neither Aunt Mil- dred nor I will interfere." "I have no doubt that the new lover has quite banished any need of the old uncle," he replied, with a Timon-like accent, which was not a striking success. But Timon himself could scarcely have resisted the glance with which Leslie returned this thrust. The soft, gray eyes looked so pretty and reproachful that it was no wonder the matter ended by a kiss on the spot, and a letter written an hour later to the house-keeper at Rosland, announcing the intended arrival of the family. "flow delightful it will be!" said Leslie, on the same afternoon, to her lover. "I don't think you appreciate half how delightful, Ar- thur; but then you have not b~en down in that lovely country for so long~ You have no idea what a beautiful old place Stratford is. And, taking a short path through the woods, it is not more than a mile from Ros- land!" "It really seems providential altogether," Tyndale said, reflecting the brightness of her face, as, indeed, few men could have helped doing. "Strafford has passed so entirely out of ray life these latter years, that if it had not been an old family place 1 should have put it in the market long ago. It has served to sink money on as far back as I can remember," he added, with a laugh; "and if you like it, Les- lie, the odds are that still more will be sunk on it before long." "I do like it," said Leslie, "more than I can tell you. I have never been in the house since I was a very small child; but the grounds, with their deep glades and old mossy oaks, are beautiful. Whenever I read of fauns, and dryads, and ~ylvan fairies, I always think of Strafford. They all find, a home there, I am sure." "Do they?" said he, smiling. "Did you use to know them? To think of your pretty, childish feet wandering alone about the woods of Strafford! Ab, my Leslie, what a lucky fellow I am to have met you-in tiniii!" "In time!" she repeated. "Why do you say that?" "Why should I not say it, when some- body who deserved you better might have won you if I had been a little later in coming back to America?" he answered, quickly. "That is not very likely," said she. "Fate was saving me up for you. I know that now! Whenever I used to feel the least inclination to fall in love with anybody, something in my heart would draw back and say, 'Not yet.' You see, it was waiting for you, and did not,~ mean that my life should contain any thing which you or I need regret." "My Leslie!" he said, with a sort of pas- sionate fondness; but none the less a flush came over his face, which Leslie, if she had seen it, would not have understood. It was a flush of reproachful shame to compare the heart given him with the heart he had to give. Men of the world do not often feel such twinges as this; but, despite his worldly training, Tyn- dale felt it now-felt it because lie was con- scious that he possessed this heart only on sufferance, and because he knew that a pos- sible conviction awaited him, which would make every fond word Leslie now uttered turn to gall in her memory. "Tell me about Stratford," he went on, after a moment, anx- ious, perhaps, to change the subject. "I have only the vaguest recollection of it. Isn't there a pond somewhere about the grounds? It seems to me I remember catch- ing trout out of a pond." "Yes," said Leslie, "but you should not call it a pond-it is a lake, and such a lovely one! Don't you remember how still, an~l clear, and deep the water is? how the grounds slope down to it on one side, and what dark, solemn pines are on the other? Then, the water-lihies-O Arthur, how could you forget the water-lilies?" "I had not much of a soul for water-lilies in those days," said he. "I have a much more vivid remembrance of the trout. The river is near at hand, too; isn't it?" "Nearer to Rosland than to Strafford, but near enough to both. We always keep a boat on it." "And we will put one on the pond-I beg pardon, the lake. Then we can row, and fish, and talk, and read 'The Earthly Paradise,' and, in short, make an earthly paradise of our own." "I don't like the comparison," said Les- lie. "Paradise had a serpent, you know; and every paradise, since that time, has been furnished, with the same drawback. Now, ours will not have any; so we will not call it *by the fairbut fatal name." "No, we will not," said Tyndale; but again a wave of color swept into his face, for he was thinking what a serpent in this earthly paradise Norah Desmond 'might prove, if she chose. "Max has promised to go down with me," he went on, after a pause. "I don't think lie will find it dull, for there will be plenty of shooting and fishing for him." "What a nice pertie carr~e we shall make when Norah comes!" said Leslie, gayly. "Perhaps Captain Tyndahe will even be obliging enough to fall in love with her." "I don't think that at all likely," said Arthur, grimly. "Max has no fancy for that kind of, woman, and Miss Desmond flies at higher game than a soldier of fortune." "How do you know that?" asked Leslie, a little curiously. "Oh, anybody could tell so much by look- ing at her? I never saw her that she was not surrounded by'what the English call 'tip. top swells.' She is amazingly beautiful, you see, and has a way with her that is positively fascinatiwr" "It must have been striking to impress yow so much merely at sight," said Leslie. She said it with the utmost innocence 01' intention and manner, but Tyndale shot a keen and slightly uneasy glance at her. We all know the 'proverb about a guilty con- science; and it was never better exemplified than by this young fellow, who had already woven about himself' the tangled web of a very embarrassing deception. He was spared reply, however; for just then a carriage drew up at the door, and Leslie, bending forward to glance through the open window at its oc- cupant, uttered an exclamation. "Here is Mrs. Sandford!" she said. "What is it the Italians say when they mean 'well sent?' "I would rather inquire what they say when they mean 'ill sent,"' Tyndale answered, frowning and flushing impatiently-for his fair skin flushed at the least provocation. "That woman, Leslie, if you will excuse me-" "But I won't excuse you," interrupted Leslie, laughing. "You must stay and bear your share of the infliction, if you look at her visit in that light. I' am sure that a month ago you would have considered it in any other. how does a man dare to talk of a woman~s inconstancy, I wonder?~' "I never did," said Tyndale, shrugging his shoulders. The gesture was significant, and implied that he had rather been obliged to find the contrary fault with women-that, as a rule, they had been inconveniently con- stant to him. "By Jove!" he went on, 9 page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. A PRETTY PICTURE. walking to the window, "Max has been nice- ly caught. He was passing along the street, when Mrs. Sandford stopped him; and now she is bringing him in, whether he will or no." "I am glad of that," said Leslie, in her fresh, cordial voice. "I like your cousin so much, and he comes so seldom of late! Aunt Mildred and I were regretting it only yester- day." "Max has very little fancy for society," said Tyndale, feeling an obligation to apolo- gize. "He has still less fancy for Mrs. Sandford," he added, "but she seems to be making a dead set at him." "That must be very awkward." "Amazingly so to a man like Max, who' likes to place women on a pedestal, and keep them there. I think he dislikes fast women even more than I do," the speaker pursued, reflectively. * "Do you dislike fast women?" said Les- lie, arching her brows. "How necessary it always is to state our opinions if we wish them known!" To this shaft of gentle satire Tyndale had no opportunity to reply, for at that moment Mrs. Sandford' entered the room, followed by the tall, soldierly figure of Captain Tyndale. The first impression which she made on the mind was style-the second, complexion. She was dressed in black, not that which is sacred to mourning, but a light and becoming mix-, ture of grenadine and lace, brightened by delicate mauve ribbons, which set off a com- plexion that might have moved the envy of a girl of sixteen. Color was her strong point, together with a pair of large blue eyes, which she had an artless and infantile way of open- ing to their fullest extent. She opened them now, as she came forward. "What a lucky creature I am to find you at home!" she said, meeting Leslie with an effusion which sometimes tried Miss Gra- hame's courtesy severely. "I came to beg* you to go to drive with me-the afternoon is so charming !-bnt, since you are engaged, I shall not press the point; and, indeed, this cool drawing - room is pleasanter than the dusty avenue. You see I have brought Cap- tain Tyndale in with me. I told him that, if we were very good, perhaps you would give us some iced tea and bread-and-butter." "You shall have as much as you please of both," said Leslie, turning with a smile to greet Max; and then Mrs. Sandford, weakening to a consciousness of Arthur'a existence, put out a delicate, gloved hand to him. "I thought that I was not to have any recognition at all," he said, taking it with a very effective air of reproach. "I am not sure that you deserve any," auswerei she, opening the blue eyes, if pos- sible, still wider. "When one neglects his old friends, as you have done, he deserves nothing better than to be neglected in turn. Even an engagement is not an excuse for every thing I'~ "It ought to be, then," said he. "Come, you must let me make my peace! I really cannot affortl to quarrel with you-we have been friends too long." "Perhaps some day I may like you as well as ever again," said she, nonchalantly, but at present you are hopelessly out of my good graces. It is not only on account of your atrocious neglect; but I forswear en- gaged men on principle. They are always stupid." "I am sure nobody could be stupid with you4" said Tyndale, falling into his old habit of flattery. Men always flattered Mrs. Sand- ford. It was not only the easiest way of en- tertaining her, but it was an incense with which~she soon made it patent that she could' not dispense. "Oh, what a mistake!" cried she, laugh- ing - Tyndale, who had of late grown very fastidious, thought what an empty laugh it was, and how wide she opened her mouth- "any amount of people are stupid with me. I wish I did know how to keep them from being so-I should not be boredto death 'half of my time, then! It would be better than an invisible cap, or a wishing-carpet, or any thing of that kind. Oh, dear, what a charm- ing place this is!" she went on, sinking down on a sofa, and looking about her. "No won- der you find it dililcult to tear yourself away. -Leslie, dear, will it inconvenience you to order some tea? This warm, dusty weather makes one feel horribly in need of refresh- ment." Mrs. Sanford's manners were certainly very free and easy, but Leslie was accus- tomed to them; so, she rang the bell and ordered the tea - of which it may be said that a large amount was always made in the morning, and set away in ice to cool in the most thorough manner by evening. It was soon served, together with the bread-and- butter which Mrs. Sandford had promised Captain Tyndale. "If you don't like this, you shall have some iced claret," said Leslie, turning, with a smile, to Max. "Why should you think I don't like it?" said he. "I am a Frenchman, it is true, but I can drink son~iething besides cafi noir and absinthe. Those are what Americans take to be a Frenchman's favorite beverages - are they not?" "I don't think we do you so much injus. tice," said Mrs. Sandford. "I, for one, always associate the idea of a Frenchman with cham- pagne. Something light and sparkling, and altogether charming, you know." " There, Max!" cried Arthur, laughing. "Never say again that nobody compliments you, my good fellow." "I should not think of appropriating such a compliment," said Max. "In the first place, I am only half a Frenchman, and, in the second place, even that fund of vanity, which always stands a man in such g~od stead, fails to countenance the idea that I am either light, sparkling, or al- together charming." "Perhaps you are not the best judge of that," said Leslie, smiling. * In this way they laughed and talked, while they drank the liquid amber, which was called tea, and ate the light wafers that passed under the name of bread. Mrs. Mid- dieton, who entered the room soon after this, thought what a pretty picture they made, gathered, in the neighborhood of a large bay- window, through which a flood of golden sun- light was streaming into the room, gleaming about the tea-equipage, touching the mirrors and pictures with a glow of crimson bright- ness, and outli~iing~Leslie's graceful head like a figure in a pre-Raphaclite picture. Outside the window, the roses were climbing and clustering, and loading the air with summer sweetness. In the street, above the roll of carriages, and the fast-trotting tramp of horses' feet, sounded the sweet strains of a German band, playing a Strauss waltz; Mrs. ~andford looked up, and gave one of her effu- sive exClamations: "0 my dear, dear Mrs. Middleton, think how charming!" she cried. "You are all going into the country to spend the summer, Leslie tells me, and I am obliged to go down to that very county, to visit some relations who think that I have neglected them shame- fully. I thought that I was going to be terri- bly bored; and it is an intense relief to know that I shall have such delightful neighbors. But you must not be surprised if you see me at Rosland perpetually." "We shall be very glad to see you as often as you can come," said Mrs. Middleton, hQspitably. She had no particular fancy for Mrs. Sanford, but everybody received and she was, as Tyndale had once said, "good company" - that is, she was always in a good - humor, and always to be relied upon in any social emergency. "Ohhow delightful!" repeated that en- thusiastic lady. Then she turned to Tyndale. "I shall be so glad to see your place," she said. "My cousins, who live in the neigh- borhood, tell me that it is beautiful. Don't you mean to give a ball or something of the sort when you go down-as a house-warming, you know?" "I really had not thought of it," said he. "Oh, but you ought-if only to show peo- ple how charmingly you mean to live l I must speak to Leslie, and make her persuade you to do it. Mrs. Middleton, don't you think he ought? People who have pretty, old places, and don't use them, should be obliged to give them to people who would. I agree with the socialists that far!" "Suppose you take Strafford off my hands, then?" said he, laughing, but scarcely conceal- ing the fact that he was exceedingly bored. He looked round for Leslie, but, when Mrs. Middleton's appearance had relieved Miss Gri~hame from the duties of hostess, she had taken Captain Tyndale out into the gar- den. "I think I have heard you say that you like roses," she said to him. "Come and look at ours. They are in their glory." He assented willingly-as, indeed, he would have been apt to assent to any thing which she proposed. Leslie was not at all aware of the, peculiar regard which this somewhat im- passive soldier entertained for her. She might have been flattered if she had known that she embodied to him more of tho gentleness and refinement, the sweetness ,and grace of womanhood, than he had ever met b~f'ore in the whole courSe of his life. Like most tn~n of his elass-.-men of active pursuits and re- fined tastes -~ he had little fancy for the order of women technically called "loud." 22 S 23 page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. ARRIVAL OF NORAH DESMOND. He had flirted with them, talked of them, toasted them, perhaps-but, all the ,pame, he had his ideal, with which not one of these modern heroines had a single attribute in common. This ideal was one that in the masculine mind has no doubt existed since the days of Adam-a gentle, graceful, femi- nine abstraction, hedged about with a divine atmosphere of high - breeding and heavenly virtues. To this ideal Miss Grahame ap- proached very closely, and she had conse- quently proved very attractive to him - so attractive, indeed, that if Arthur Tyndale's suit had not been very far advanced before his cousin came on the scene, there is no telling how soon Max might have laid his lau- rels of Algiers and Gravelotte at Leslie's feet. Neither is it possible to tell what success he might havewon. The mind grows dizzy in considering what toys of circumstance we are -how absolutely and entirely the whole course and meaning of our lives seem to hinge on the idlest turns of chance. Thinking of these things, we feel like children in the dark, fearing to take a step in any direction lest we should encounter some unforeseen disaster, or avoid some great good. If Max Tyndale had come into Leslie's life before his cousin, and had gained, perhaps - for many unlikelier things have happened-his cousin's place in her heart, one thing at least might have been predicted, that, although society would have been more chary of its compliments, and Mr. and Mrs. Middleton probably less suave in their consent, Leslie herself would never have had to fear the dissimulation which Ar- thur Tyndale had already displayed, nor the treachery which he might yet display. Such thoughts as these were very far from her mind, however, as she walked down the garden-paths, pointing out her favorite roses to Ma~x, and laughing over his lamentable ig- norance of rose-nomenclature. "I confess that I don't know much about the names of flowers," he said, at last, with unnecessary candor. "It always seemed to me a matter of very small importance. They are meant to be sources of enjoyment-not occasions of study, or weary exercise of the ,memory." "But it is not weary to people who love roses to remember that this is a Malmaison, and that a Noisette," said Leslie, smiling. "When will those who don't like certain things comprehend that others may like them? Now, I should think there was nothing in the world half so tiresome as military tactics!" "But that has use in it," said he. "And do you think there is no use in flowers because one does not often 'brain a tyrant with a rose?'" "There is use in them, as there is use in music and poetry," said Max, who, it must be confessed, was rather utilitarian than aesthetic in his bias. "The world would be a much darker and narrower place without them." "While with them~ what a bright and happy place it is!" said Leslie, lifting her fair face to the sunset glow. "Do you know)" she went on, suddenly, speaking almost wist- fully, "that I sometimes think I have too many of the gooi things of life for one per- son? Sometimes it strikes me that I must surely hitve some one else's share of prosperi- ty besides my own. I have never had a trou- ble-nor the least shade of a trouble-in my life; and now I am so very happy! "-she spoke with the simplicity of a child-" surely it is not right-I mean, surely it is more than I deserve." "1 think it is quite right," said Max. '"Nobody ever deserved the good gifts of For- tune more than you do, and hereafter I shall think better of the jade for having shown so much discrimination for once." "You are jesting, while I am in earnest," said she, looking at him with her soft gray eyes. "You cannot tell how often I have thought of this, lately. Every thing about my life is so bright-surely too bright to last! 1~ cannot dismiss the idea that some trouble ijiust be in store to counterbalance it all." "You are wrong to indulge such thoughts," said Max, seriously. "You are darkening the present sunshine by forebodings of clouds that come sooa enough in every life." "I never had such forebodings before," said she. He was on the point of answering, "Be- cause you never before put your happiness into the keeping of another," but he re- strained the words in time. It was true enough; but why should he say it? Why should he put the fact-which might yet be a grim one-plainly before Leslie? He could not, however, help wondering if any subtle distrust of Arthur caused the foreboding to which she alluded; and, strangely enough, Leslie - with a woman s quick instinct - turned to answer the suspicion. "I don't think any woman ever had better assurances of happiness than I have,'Z she said. "And it is because I am so particular- ly-so d~xceptionally-fortunate, that I feel in this way." "I understand," said Captain Tyndale. "It is natural enough. And yet, if I might venture to advise, I would beg you, to enjoy the present and let the future take care of it- self; since you cannot-like the Greek king in one of Schiller's ballads-throw a ring into the sea as a propitiation to the gods." "Perhaps my propitiation might be re- jected, as that of poor Polycrates was," said Leslie, smiling. Then she added more grave- ly: "We are both talking~ like heathens. Of course, I know who give~ both good and ill fortune; and, while I am grateful for the first, I trust I should neither dcspaii nor rebel under the last." "I am sure you would not," said Max. "If I put my heel on that lily," he said, pointing to one in a bed near by, "it would be none the less sweet after it was crushed. Such is the nature of lilies." Leslie laughed a little. "You are very kind," she said. Then, feeling thu t the con- versation was becoming too personal, she changed it with her graceful tact. "I am old-fashioned enough to love these pure white lilies"' she said, stooping to pull one. "Our neighbor, Mrs. Moncure, who has a great many varieties of new - fashioned Japanese lilies, quite scorns them." "As I should probably scorn the Japanese lilies, if I saw them," said Max. "Who cares for those gaudy, striped things? One might as well have a tulip or a peony. But the lily of tradition and of poetry-the flower of the Annunciation-thefleur de us of France -the emblem of purity and fragrance-the symbol of the saints-one cazmnot love that too well." "So I think," said Leslie. "And I am glad that there is one flower about which you know how to be enthusiastic," she added, "though I famicy it is not so much the flower as its associations that please you. Now, shall we go back to the drawing-room? Per- haps Arthur has finished his flirtation with Mrs. Sandford by this time. It is a good thing that I am not jealous, is it not?" "A very good thing," he answered. But, as they turned their steps toward the draW- inn-room, he could not help wondering wheth- er a real cause for jealousy would not shatter this sweet, placid calm. us heart misgave him-or, to speak more correctly, his judg- ment warned him-concerning the probable result of Arthur's meeting with Norah Des- mond. "Unstable as water," seemed in Max's mind a text specially suited to his cousin; and, like most men of cool, determined char- acter, he felt something closely akin to con- tempt for the other's shifting vacillation. "If I have any influence over him, he'll keep straight with regard to 1/mis!" he thought. Much as she liked him, Leslie had little idea whpt a champion had buckled on armor in her behalf. CHAPTER V. "A woman in whom majesty and wetnesss Blend to such issues of serene completeness, That to gaze on her were a prince's boon! The calm ot evening, the large pomp of noon, Are hers; soft May moms, melting June Hold not such tender languishments as those Which steep her in that dew-light of repose, That floats a dreamy balm around the full-blown rose." MAY and June passed - burdening the earth with their wealth of fragrant bloom- 'and it was on one of the earlier days of July that Miss Grahame's pony-carriage drove up to the station of Wexford, distant seventeen miles from Alton, just before the down ex- press was due at 5.40 in'. ii. The Middleton household, with all its belongings, had been domesticated, for a month or more, at Ros- land; but the day before this, Mr. Middleton had gone up to* the city to meet Miss Dc~- mond, who telegraphed an announcement of her safe arrival on American shores. "Jump down and go round to their heads, Guy," Leslie said to the groom, as she checked her horses. "I hear the train coming, and Romulus is always foolish. S-oh-steady, sir!" She pulled in the reins sharply-it was surprising how much vigor was in those slen- der wrists-as one of the ponies threw up his head nervously; but Guy-a lithe, half-grown boy-was on the ground and at their bits when the engine, with its long train of vibrat- ing cars, came shrieking and whistling, like a lunatic fiend, around a curve. As it drew up with one short, defiant snort before the station-, not a few dusty women e 24 25 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ON THE WAY TO ROSLAND. 27 and linen-coated men looked out, with that interest which any passing event always arouses in the traveling mind, at the pretty, low-swung phaeton, the white ponies hand- somely set off by blue reins, and the graceful girl, whose fresh, summer costume was not concealed by the carriage-wrap drawn partly over it. "Oh, how charming I Shouldn't you like to have it?" said one or 'two enthusiastic young ladies, referring, in a lucid way, to the phaeton and ponies. "Very neat turnout!" said one or two men, approvingly. "Amazingly pretty girl, by George!" added several others, staring at the delicate face, which was half turned away from them. - For, unconscious of the admiration which her equipage and herself were exciting, Leslie was gazing eagerly along the platform for the appearance of her uncle and his companion. She could with difficulty realize that she was about to meet the sister whom she had never seen, and her heart was beating nervously. What would she be like? Had she (Leslie) done well or ill? Another minute would de- cide something at least. "Do you see any signs of them, Guy?" she asked of the groom, who was in a better' position for observation than hcr~elf. "Yes'm-yonder comes master," lie an- swered. Leslie's heart gave a leap-into her throat, it seemed-as Mr. Middleton, with a lady on his arm, emerged from the fluctuating crowd around the cars, and advanced towiird her. She stepped from the phaeton, and, even at that moment-so quick is the feminine eye- she saw that her sister was tall, and walked with remarkable grace. "Well, Leslie, here she is!" said Mr. Mid- dkton, as they met.' "I suppose there's no need to introduce' you to each other." "I should think not, indeed!" said Leslie, with her sweut smile. "0 Noruh, how glad I am to see 'you, dear!" She put' out both hands as she spoke: her whole heart seemed quivering on the lips that touched the fair ~'ace slightly bent toward her. Absorbed in herown 'enlotion, she did not feel-what Mr. Middleton obsnrved-.-that the eager warmth of her greethig was 'rather received than resumed~' "Thanks-you are very kind," said the stranger, in a voice which, though musical, was slightly cold. "I hope we shall like each other' "I am sure of it," said Leslie, quickly. "You must not 'hope' such a thing, because to hope implies a little doubt.-Come, put her in the phaeton, uncle. I brought it because I wanted her all to myself. The barouche is here for you." "That is a good thing," said Mr. Middle- ten, as he assisted Miss Uesmcind into the luxurious little carriage. "Things always happen, and people turn up, just when they are not expected," he went on, philosophical- ly. "To my surprise, I met Carl in the city. He came down with us, and is looking after the trunks just now." "Carl!" repeated Leslie, astonished at this off-hand announcement. "But I thought Carl was iii Germany?" "So did I, until I met him in Alton," an- swered Mr. Middleton. Then, as the train moved ofl he glanced round. "Here he comes," he said, carelessly. This indifference was his way of showing the vexation he felt at the neglect which had so long delayed that coming. Leslie turned also. A young man in a gray traveling-suit aud cap was advancing down the platform, with the light and pecul- iarly springy step that few men retain after twenty-three or four-a good-looking young fellow, with a rich dash of auburn in his brown hair and eyes and brows that might have been painted to match. lie wore no beard, and his flexible tips curled upward at the corners, as those of a laughter-loving na- ture always do, while there was a gleam of fun in his eyes' Which often tried the patience of soberly - disposed people very severely. This was the lighter side of Carl Middleton's character, however. That there was another, those who knew him well were thoroughly aware. The dash of red in his haii-~ together with one Or two straight lines betwecit the brows, were sufficient indicationH of the pas- sionate though somewhat volatilee vehemence that always accumnpal1ie~ the mercurial tem- * perament, in feeling' arid action; "You are surprised to ~ee me, are 'you not ?"' he said, after the fir~t' gveetin~ be- tween Leslie and himself was over. ''~ You didn't imagine' that' J~ 'had been 'Miss l~cs. mond's traveling companion? Uncle ~4e'drge's face' was a study when' he met us in Alton this moruaing!" "Did you come over with Norab?" said Leslie, with surprise. "You are certainly the most incomprehensible person! Why did you not write to say that you were. coming, or why did you not telegraph when you ar- rived ?" "Why should I have done either?" asked he. "Here I am all right, and I did not ex- pect anybody to meet me. I made up my mind to sail at an hour's notice. By Jove, Leslie! -may I say how much you are improved? I should have come home a year ago if I had known you were as pretty as this!" "Should you? "said Leslie. "It is a good thing you did not know it, then; I am sure you must have enjoyed the year much more in Europe than you would have done here. You have improved, too, since you were a red-haired boy, and the 'torment of my life," she added, smiling. "I am very glad to see it, and very glad to see you, too; but I must really go now, for I cannot keep Norah wait- ing while we exchange complimeiils. That can be done at our leisure when we reach Rosland." "And how am I to reach Rosland?" he asked, as lie assisted her into the phaeton, where Miss Desmond was seated, leaning back on the low seat, and looking meditatively at the ponies. "You are to go in the barouche with uncle," answered Leslie, gathering up her reins.-" Come, Guy!" "~iIay not I play tiger fqr once? "asked Carl,' holding Guy back at arili's-length, much to that bebuttoned individual's surprise. "No, you may not," answered Miss Gra- hame, decidedly. "You are to go with uncle; and I have no doubt that the freedom to smoke a cigar will amply console you for the loss of our society." "You think so because you don't know how much I should enjoy your society," said he. But he released Guy, who was in his seat in a moment. "We'll be along, Leslie, as soon as the servants have managed to dispose of Miss Desmond's trunks," said Mr. Middleton, who was standing by the barouche. Leslie nodded, and, flicking Romulus and Remus lightly with the whip, the phaeton bowled easily down a green country lane, leav- ing Carl standing with his cap off watching them as they drove away. Then it was that Miss Grahame began to be conscious that her companion had not spoken since their first greeting; and, anx- ious to avoid any thing like awkwardness, she plunged at once into conversation-fall- ing, of course, upon an undeniable common- place: "I am afraid you have had such a warm, dusty day' for traveling." "It has not been agreeable," answered her companion, in the same musical voice which had struck her in its first utterance-.- a voice that spoke English with a slightly foreign accent-" but summer traveling never is agreeable, I fancy One must always ex- pect heat and dust." "But at least I hope your ocean-voyage was pleasant ?" "Yes-very. I always enjoy the ocean. There is nothing like it in tIme world, I think." "So do I-though I have never seen very much of it. And it was pleasant that Carl should have crossed with you! I hope he found you out soon-I mean, found out who you were?" "He did not need to find me out," was the quiet but very unexpected reply. "We knew each other before. It came in his way to do papa some slight favor in Paris last spring; and so I had already met him." " Met him!" exclaimed Leslie - "met Carl !" She was so taken aback by this third surprise, that for a minute she could say nothing more. Then she added, on the first impulse of astonishment: "How very extraordinary I - I mean how very singular that he should never have mentioned it~" "I am not sure that it was singular," said Miss Desmond, indifferently- though an in- crease of color rose into her face - "the fact may have escaped his mind as one of alight importance, or he may not have considered us in the light of very desirable acquaint- ances.- Certainly we are not people of whose social countenance any one is likely tob~ast." "Norah !" said Leslie, almost indignantly. A tide of blood came into ker face, a thrill of reproach into her voice. "How can you speak so!" she went on quickly. "It would be unjust to Carl if you meant it in earnest. Even in jest, it i~ unjust to yourself." h ~ beg your pardon," said the other. "I forgot that you did n~t understand how We Bohemians feel. I forgot,~ also, that Kate's !ast injunction was to beg me not to shook 27 26 page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 A DAUGll ~ER OF BOHEMIA. MRS. MIDDLETON'S SUSPICIONS. 29 you. 'Remember that you arc going among respectable people,' she said, and 'try to be respectable too.'" "Try to be respectable!" repeated Les- lie, smiling-it was impossible not to smile at the humor in Norah's eyes, as she uttered the last words-" but are you not respectable already? If you are not, pray tell me what coastitutes respectability." "A gig, does it not ?" asked Miss Des- mond, qui~e innocently. "You know Carlyle says so. I suppose your ph~ieton-how pretty it is, by-the-by ! - might come under that head." "Let us hope so, at least," was the reply. "Then we shall be able to esteem ourselves safely respectable for the time being. Not but that respectability is a very good thing in its way," Miss Grahanie pursued, reflectively- thinking, perhaps, that it would be as well to give a slight admonition to her companion- "and women ia especial are apt to fare very badly if they venture to disregard its codes. You look as if you' t ought that a very stale commonplace. So it is; but many stale things are true things none the less. Now, I am not easily shocked, dear, but I hope you will for- give me when I say that many other people are." There was so much of gentle wistfulness in this last sentence that it would have been impossible for the most irascible person to be provoked by it; and Norah Desmond only 'smiled. "I suppose you are thinking of your own people," she said. "Well, I shall try not to shock them. Bohemian though I am, I can play qrande dame then I like." "I think Nature intended that you should play it all the time," said Leslie, with a glance of involuntary admiration at the beautiful face, which was also a proud face. "No," was the careless reply. "Noth- ing cramps and wearies me more. I am like my father, who seems to have something of the gypsy in him-something which always has made him unable to endure the pressure of conventional respectability very long." "I hope she will not say any thing like that to Aunt Mildred," thought Leslie, half amused and half dismayed to imagine the manner in which Mrs. Midclleton would re- gard such a declaration, as realizing her worst fears of what Mr. Desinond's daughter might be. A slight sensation of foreboding beganto come over Mtss Grahame as she ap- preciated more clearly than she had done be- fore the nature of the jarring elements sh~ was about to bring together. What would be the end of it? Would Norah gracefully conciliate the prejudices which were already in arms against her, or would she openly brave and defy them?. With all her anxiety that the former course should be adopted, Leslie could not bring herself to. ofrer a stronger hint than she had already utte,~cd. And so it was that, for a little time, silence fell. The ponies trotted along a level strete~i of well-shaded road, with the slanting gold of the sunlight streaming in serene glory through the brown trunks of the trees, and on the green depths of the foliage, while Guy, sitting bolt upright in his tiny seat, absorbed in the contemplation of his buttons, took a short nap, and nearly fell ofT before Miss Desmond spoke again: "I ~ no idea you lived in the country. I thought your uncle had a house in the city -4lton, isn't it ?-wherc he met me to-day." ''We do not live in the country,'' Leslie answered. "We have only come down to Roslaud for the summer. Our home is in Alton." "Ah, I see !-you are at your country- honac 4 la grand seigneur. But have you much of a neighborhood? Pastoral seclusion may be exceedingly elegant, but it is also ~-ery apt to be dull, I think." "There is something of a neighborhood- enough, I hope, to keep you from being disH." "I was not thinking of myself~" was the quiet reply. "All modes of life come alike to me. I fancy I have run the gamut of them, from highest to lowest. Consequently, I have learned a very useful philosophy, which enables mc to be resigned to any thing and surprised at nothing." Then, as they drove by the palings of a green park, full of massive old trees, through which the chim- neys and gables of a house were visible, she added, "That looks as if it might be a pretty place." ~ "It is a pretty place," said Leslie, with the guelder - rose color deepening on her cheek, "the prettiest in the country, I think, though there are several ~iore hand- some, hind many better kept up." "Who is the owner?" asked Miss Des- mond, lifting her veil for the first time and leaning forward. "A person of whom you have heard," an- swered Leslie. "This is the Tyndale place, and belongs to Arthur-the Arthur of whom I have written you." It was a quick interjection, uttered more to herself than to her companion, but Leslie thought that it denoted interest, and went on: "The house is picturesque, as you see, and quite old-that is, for any thing Ameri- can. No doubt you would think it very mod- ern, It has been in the family for several generations, and came to Arthur when he was a mere boy. He had not seen it for years until this summer; but lie has been so much surprised and delighted by its beauty that I think it will be' his principal home hereafter." Miss Desinond made no reply. It would have been only courteous, it seemed, if she had evinced a little interest in the subject thus introduced; but she gave no response by word or look to Leslie's speech. All her admiration of the Tyndale place suddenly ap- ped~rcd to vanish. She leaned back without another glance toward it, but she did not draw down her veil, and so it was that, for the first time, Leslie saw what she looked like. Now, as a general rule, it would be doping a woman gross injustice to judge of her looks when she has just ended a long and fatiguing journey; but there are particular cases, as 'well as general rules, and it will be readily admitted that, if a woman is found to bear such a severe test with even moderate suc- cess, it may be safely predicated of her, as of Olivia, that her beauty "is in the grain, and will endure wind and weather." This test Norah Desmond stood triumphantly. Even Leslie, with that greatest medium for flattery of our day-a painted photograph- in her mind, could not think that she had ever seen a more beautiful face than the one beside her. Ij~ was not only the regular, clearly-cut features, the skin white as milk and smooth as marble, the scarlet lips so proudly curved and firmly closed, the rich masses of hair, chestnut in the shade, spun gold in the sun, nor the large, full eyes, also chestnut in tint -as the old chronicles tell us that Mary Stuart's were-which fascinated her so much. It was something deeper and more subtle than the mere loveliness of flesh and blood. Listless as the face looked, it was not cold; quiet as it seemed, it was not tame. On the contrary, it was easy to tell that it possessed, in superlative degree, that mobility of feature which distinguishes the Irish physiognomy; that a magnetism not to be put into words might dwell in the smile of the lips, a something almost akin to majes- ty shine out of ,the magnificent depths of the eyes. "I think I shall certainly like her!" Leslie thought, and at that moment the eyes in question turned and met her own. "Well," said their possessor, quietly, "what do you think of me? Am I as pretty as my likeness?" / "I beg your pardon," said Leslie, quick- ly. "I did not mean to be rude. But you must be accustomed to staring by this time, I should think." "You were not rude," said the other. "It was very natural you should look at me. I only wanted to know if you are disappoint- ed in my appearance. Kate said that the photograph I sent you was flattered." "Tell Kate that she was never more mis- taken," said Miss Grahame, warmly. "I thought the photograph lovely, hut you-you arc far more beautiful than it is." "Thanks!" said Norah. But she must have been well used to compliments, for her color did not deepen in the least even at those enthusiastic words. A few minutes later they 'entered the gates of Rosland, and were bowling rapidly around the carriage-drive to the front of the house. "It is not much of a place," Leslie said, half apologetically. "At least it looks very pretty," Norah truthfully answered. It did look pretty, undoubtedly. There were no pretensions to architectural effect, but home-like grace and lightness everywhere. A green lawn sloped away into 'a flowex~-gar- den on one side, and into shrubbery on the other; a veranda, with arches overrun by creepers, had chairs, books, and work, set out on it, and lace-draped windows behind. The wide hall, with its open doors, looked spacious and aii'y, there was a fragrance of- flowers in the atmosphere, and the sinking sun sent a flood of golden light across the close-shaven lawn ~o the thick-set hedge be- yond. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMiA. A FAMILY GATHERING. 31 Leslie reined up Romulus and Remus be. fore the, door, and, giving the reins to Guy, turned to her sister: "Welcome to Rosland, Norali 1" she said, eagerly. "I hope we may make you happy, dear! I am sure it makes me very happy to know that you are with us. And here is Aunt Mildred to bid you welcome, too." This Mrs. Middleton did with a very charmii~g grace and cordiality. Certainly the young stranger who had come so entirely unknowing and unknown among them could not complain that any thing was lacking in her welcome which the most carping spirit of exaction might have required. After many kind greetings had been uttered, and every possible want of tired Nature anticipated, she was left alone in the chamber to which she had been conducted; and theh Leslie came back and stood in a triumphant glow before her aunt. "Well, Aunt Mildred; what do you think of her?" she cried. "Is she not superbly beautiful?" "She is very handsome," said Mrs. Mid- dleton. She spoke readily and not at all as if the admission irked her, which it certainly did. "But she is not in the least like your mother, Leslie. I cannot trace the faintest resemblance between the two faces." "I wish she were like mamma," said Lea. lie; "and yet she is so lovely that it would be wrong to desire any change in her. Did you ever see such a complexion, or such eyes, QS such hair?" "It certainly is a very striking kind of beauty," said Mrs. Middleton. "As a mat- ter of individual taste, I like something quieter and more refined; but, of course, no.. body can deny that she is very fine.looking." "Fine-looking! She is much more than that," said Leslie, aggrieved at hearing the beauty to which she had done generous hom- age, damned by such faint praise. "She is perfectly lovely! Wait until you 4e her better dressed and less dusty." "I never knew you so enthusiastic be- fore," said Mrs. Middleton, with a smile that was rather deprecating. "You never knew me before when I had just met a sister whom I am sure I'can ad- mire, and whom I hope I can love," answered Leslie, warmly. "My dear!" said Mrs.' Middleton, in an expostulatory tone. She looked at the eager face before her, while a shade of the intense prejudice she felt against the new-coiner fell over her own. But ~he was too wise as well as too high-bred to say any thing which would be "sharp," or likely to wound Leslie. So she smiled again, but, more faintly. "Don't be in too much haste to give more than ad- miration," she said. "Wait until you know something of what lies under that handsome face before you bestow the love of which you speak." "I think I know something of it already," answered Leslie-in whose excuse it may be said that she was not prone often to the folly of such rash judgment-" I am sure she has a noble character, though it has been warped by circumstalwes. Please remember that, Aunt Mildred," the eager voice went on. "Please, in judging her, remember how dif- ferent her life has been from ours." "But that is the worst thing against her," said Mrs. Middleton, who felt her heart hard- ening momently. "Do you not see that, though it may be an excuse, it is also a ground for distrust? 0 Leslie, I am so sorry that you have taken a fancy to the girl! Such impulses are always unwise, but in this in- stance you may be preparing more of annoy- ance and suffering for yourself than you can imagine." "I trust not," said Leslie, in her frank, loyal voice. "But, even if it were so, it was of Norah, and not of myself, I thought, in sending for her. That for which I was and am most amixious is to help her life, to do her good; and if this can be compassed, even at the cost of a little annoyance and suffering to myself, I shall not regret it. I confess, how- ever, that I can eec no cause to fear any thing of the kind." "I hope with nil my heart that you may be right," said Mrs. Middleton, with a sigh which was imbued with the strongest possi- ble skepticism. "It is certainly too late now .to undo what has been done. But where is your uncle? Surely the barouche ought to have been here before this." "I left him at Wexford with Carl" re- plied Leslie. "By-the-by, I have been so en- grossed with Norah tfaat I have forgotten to tell you Carl has arrived." "Carl !" echoed Mrs. Mi'ldleron, in a tone of incredulous amazement. "Why, Carl is in Europe!" "Just what I said to uncle," answered Leslie, composedly. "But, of course, that argument fell to the ground when Carl ap- peared in person. You will be glad to hear that he has grown amazingly, and is really very good-looking." "Carl!" repeated Mrs. Middleton again, as if she could not credit her own ears. "But what is the meaning of it? Why did he not let us know when he left Europe? how long has he been in America?" "He caine over in tIme same steamer with Norah, he says. I asked him why he had not written, but he only laughed, and said that he made up his mind at an hour's notice, or something of that kind. Men can do sue!' things, you know. Yonder comes the ba- rouche now, so you can question him at your leisure. As for me, I nmust go and dress for dinner." She left the room-Mrs. Middleton offer- ing no opposition-and went up-stairs just as the barouche drove to the door. Pausing a moment to glance over the balustrade, there was a sparkle of amusement on her face which might have puzzled the lady below. It arose from the reflection that she would leave Carl himself to announce the singular and (from a Middleton point of view) unpalatable fact of his acquaintance with the Desmond fam- ily, and his incomprehensible concealment thereof. ChAPTER VI. "Go, lovely rose I Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be." Ax hour later, it was a very pleasant and sociable party that gathered around the Ros- land dinner-table. There were no guests in the h~use-for Mrs. Middleton had been care- ful that none should be invited at the time when Miss Desmond was expected-but there was nothing of the heavy atmosphere which usually pervades a strictly family gathering. Both host and hostess were too well-bred to suffer any of the annoyance which they felt to betray itself in their manner, and Leslie brought all her reserve of graceful tact and social knowledge into action. She had felt a little uneasiness as she dressed for dinner; but a sense of pleasant reassurance came to her as she entered the drawing - room just after the bell rang, and found her aunt and uncle laughing over one of Carl's anecdotes. The frank atmosphere of unclouded good- humor showed her at once how foolish she had been to fear any uncomfortable con- straint in people who held the slightest de- viation from the strict rule of courtesy equal to a breach of the Decalogue. "Under-bred people always show at once whatever they are thinking and feeling," Mrs. Middleton often said. ". Really well-bred people never~ do, unless for some good reason. Believe me, my dear, that is, after all, the great dis- tinction between the two classes." "Well, Leslie, h~w did you get on with your new sister?" asked Mr. Middleton, turn- ing round as she entered. "I thought as I saw you driving off that the first advances toward acquaintanceship might be a little awkward-eh?" "I did not find them so," replied Leslie. "I think we got on very well indeed--better than you would fancy, perhaps. But, what did you think of her, uncle?" "I think she is one of the handsomest women I have ever ~ answered he, frank- ly. "Beyond this fact I can scarcely say that I have formed an opinion, except that her manner is decidedly cold, and rather calcu- lated to repulse one." "I am inclined to think that is a form of the antagonism which people who arc not quite sure of their social position often dis- play," remarked Carl. "You' must blame the circumstances of her life for it. Her manner loses all that haufeur, and is exqui- sitely charming when she is once thoroughly at ease." "You seem to know a great deal about her," said Mrs. Middleton, with a slight accent of suspicion in her tone. "I have seen a good deal of her," said the young man, quietly; "and I have noticed the peculiarity to which I allude. She is too refined to be defiant or se~1i'-asserting, so she meets patronage and slights with this proud coldness." "But we have no intention of either pa- tronizing or slighting her," said Mr. Middleton. "Granted, my dear sir; but remember, in the first place, that she had no assurance of that fact; and, in the second, that the habit of years cannot be laid aside in a mo- ment. I will wager any thing you please, page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 A DAUGHTER however, that her manner will be changed entirely whcn she comes down to dinner. There never was a woman quicker to take a tone from others." "But is she coming down to dinner?" said Mrs. Middleton, who just then felt more interest in the soup than in Miss Desmond's manner. "Perhaps she may be too much fa- tigued to appear this evening.-Leslie, do you not think it would be well to send and ask if she would not like to dine in her own room?" "I scarcely think-" Leslie began, but before she could finish her sentence the door opened, and Miss Desmond entered. Entered and walked dpwn the long room toward the waiting group with an case and grace that would not have misbecome a prin- cess-if princesses were always as princess- like as they are generally supposed to be. The repose of her manner was so perfect, and her beauty was so brilliant, that she absolutely dazzled them as she advanced. Even Mr. Mid- dleton put up his eye -glass in amazement. If he had thought her "the handsomest wom- an he had ever seen," in a dusty traveling- dress, he could almost (save that his age for hyperbole was past) have likened her to a goddess in the filmy draperies and becom- ing adornment which she wore now. Tired, as she mightnaturally have bpen supposed to be, Miss Desmond had evidently been mindful of the fact that first impressions last long, and are very important; hence she had ex- erted herself to make a toilet in which con- summate knowledge of effect was veiled to all, save the most critical eye, by a simplicity that was in itself full of distinction. "Am I late?" she asked, as she reached the group. "I am really very sorry. I hope I have not kept you waiting long." "You have not kept us waiting at all," said Mrs. Middleton, courteously. "I am only afraid that we have been selfish in ex- pecting you to appear this evening. You must feel exceedingly fatigued." "On the contrary, I am not conscious of any weariness at all," answered she simply. "Fatigue-absolute and real fatigue-is some- thing which I have never felt half a 'dozen times in my life. I hope I do not look broken down?" she added, with a smile. "Don't ask us to tell you how you look," said Leslie. "We might fall into extrava- gance, and say that you look like Juno dressed by Worth." OF BOHEMIA. "In a manner you would he near the truth, then," said Norah, with her rare laugh. "I cannot flatter myself that I look at all like Juno, but my dress is modeled on one of Worth's designs, though I have been dar- ing enough to make several alterations. Do you know I have an idea of setting up as his rival? They tell me-everybody who knows -flint in audacity and fertility of conception I almost equal him.-One should not praise one's self, should one, Mrs. Middleton? But then, you know, such assurances as those might intoxicate the soberest brain." "Who is Worth-a painter?" asked Mr. Middleton, regarding the young lady through his glass as if she had been a lay-figure or a picture. There was a general laugh at this, which the appearance of Robert and the announce- ment of dinner somewhat shortened. "Take Norah in at ~nce, uncle, before you disgrace yourself by any further display of ig- norance," said Leslie.-" No, thanks, Carl-I dislike to sandwich a man, even from the drawing-room to the dining-room. Aunt Mil- dred is enough of a charge for you." "Yourftanc~ ought to be on duty," said Carl. "Where is he? I give you warning that, if he is not a wonderfully good fellow, I mean to refuse my consent to this little mat- rimonial arrangement which you have all got up without consulting me." "Arthur said he would not come over this evening, since it is Norah's first among us," Leslie answered, when they were seated at table. "I thought it very, considerate of him; but if I had known how well she could look even after such an exhausting journey, I think I should have told him that his con- sideration was unnecessary." Norab, who was seated in tIme full light of the dying summer day, looked up at this, her already brilliant color deepening, perhaps, by a shade. "I wonder if I have not met Mr. Tyn. dale," she said, quietly. "has he ever been abroad?" "lie was abroad two or three years ago," Leslie answered. "But, although it is likely enough that you may have seen, it is not like- ly that you knew him, for he told me some time ago that, although he had seen you once or twice, ha had never had the pleasure of knowing you." "Indeed!" Something like a glow came NORAH'S FORME into the eyes, and the scarlet lips curved as if in faint scorn. "Did he chance to men- tion where he had seen me?" she asked after a moment. "I think he said it was at Baden or Hom- burg," Leslie answered, vexed with herself that she could not avoid coloring, as she re- membered in what manner Arthur had spoken of the regal-looking creature before her. "Strangely enough, my idea was that I had met him at one of those places," Norah said, coolly, noting with keen eyes the flush that dyed the face of the other. "Or per- haps it is not strange, after all. Perhaps my memory is better than his want of memory, and I am right in thinking that I knew him, or some other Mr. Tyndale, at one of those spas. "It could not have been Arthur!" said Leslie, with a positive air. "He certainly could not have known you and forgotten it- especially since he remembered your appear- ance perfectly, and recognized your likeness at a glance.~~ "Mr. Tyndale has a cousin~" said Mrs. Middleton. "Perhaps it is Ac whom Miss Desmond knew." "I am not absolutely positive that I knew any one of the name," said Miss Desmond, abruptly. "One meets so many people-at least, I do-that I often confound names, and sometimes mistake identities. Perhaps the Tyndale whom I remember was an English- man, or perhaps "-she lifted her glass of wine to her lips just here-" he may be dead long ago." "I am inclined to think that it was Cap- tain Tyndale," said Leslie, meditatively. "He is Arthur's cousin, but he is half a French- man, and has lived in France almost all his life. Nothing is more likely than that you should have known him." "He is well worth knowing," said Mr. Middleton, chiming in just here. "I like that young fellow-he is sensible, straight- forward, and a thorough gentleman, without a particle of nonsense about him." "He is an officer of the French army," added Mrs. Middlet~n, "and is said to have acted very gallantly at-what was the name of the battle, Leslie? Of course, that is a thing which we must take on trust; but he is certainly very pleasant." "Wbat is that?" said Carl, who had ricked up his ears at the last announcement. R ACQUAINTANCE. 33 "Have you a fragment of the great wreck over here? I hope you have not been lion- izing him, Leslie? I'll send for a Uhlan or two, if you want subjects for that kind of amusement." "You are very kind," said Leslie, "but we generally md them to suit ourselves. Following the example of the people who, in advertising for servants, add, 'No Irish need apply!' we generally make it understood that, in securing subjects for lionizing, no Germans need apply - nor German sympathizers, ei- ther!" "I see that I shall find very little appre- ciation for my devotion to the Fatherland," mid he, shrugging ihis shoulders; "that is, unless I can persuade Miss Desmond to sing 'Die Wavht am Rhein' with me." "I have not learned any thing since the 'Marseillaise,"' said Norah, dryly. "That is better than 'Partant pour in Sync,' at all events," muttered he. "Ii has a history." "Of the sans-culottes and the Place do Ia Grave," said Leslie. 'lAdd Belleville, Montmartre, and La Ho- quette. We must not be personal, however. Miss Desmond was in Paris during the reign of the Commune, and she may have been a p~troleuse." "0 Norah, were you, indeed? Tell us about it!" cried Leslie, eagerly. "About being a pilroleuse? "asked Norah, smiling. "How absurd! About being in Paris, of course, I mean." "There is not much to tell. Since we were unfortunate enough to be women, papa thought that the best place for Kate and my. self was in a convent-your chivalrous Pins- sians had battered down one of the walls, Mr. Mid4leton-and I shall never forget the days I we spent there. Wa thought them horrible -especially as we lived in hourly expectation of being driven out-but, after all, many peo- pie fared much worse." "But yonmust see that it was not reason- able to blame the Prussians about the wall of your convent "-Middleton was beginning, * when his uncle interposed. "We won't discuss the question, Carl. I fancy most of us have made up our minds in a general way, on one side or the other, and unprofitable excitement is bad for digestion. -..My sympathies are all with the walls of your page: 34 (Illustration) [View Page 34 (Illustration) ] 34 A DAUGPLTEII OF BOHEMIA. convent, Miss Desmond, and, if Carl becomes unpleasantly Teutonic, I'll shut him up with a cask of lager in a Dutch summer-house we have, to evolve any thing he pleases from his inner consciousness, so that be keeps quiet." "Oh, I have really no great objection to the Germans," said Miss Desxnond, in a tone of magnanimity. "They do very 'Well for some things. I have lived among them so mlcb. that; of course, I know them very welL" "She told me that she liked Vienna bet- ter than any capital itt Thirope," said Carl, addressii~g the Company "And do you call Vienna Ucrmaz?" she asked, indignantly. "Where do you find any leaven of Teutonic heaviness in that brill- iant capital? Is there any suggestion 9f Un- ter den Linden on the Prater? I do not call any thing German which is enriched by the warm blood of the Slavic races." "There is no telling what she will say next," said Carl, with an air of resignation. "But, for all that, she sings German ballads like a thrush." "We will hear her after dinner," said Mrs Middleton; smiling. Before very long, however, that lady's eyes began to open to the alarming degree of interest which Carl manifested in the young stranger. The. femi- nine mind is proverbially quick in perceiving or foreseeing the faintest suspicion of a love- affair, and, although Mrs. Middleton had not yet heard of that previous acquaintance which had so astonished Leslie, she saw many sig- nificant signs that disturbed the serene at- mosphere of comfort in which ~hc usually existed. A new vista of possible annoyance, of horribly possible misfortune, appeared to open before her. Carl! In summing up all that might occur from the visit of this Bo- hemian girl, ahe' had not. once thought of CarL Yet, what if he should marry her! It seemed a wide~ leap to take even in im- agination, but Mrs. Middleton had lived too long in the world uiot~ to be thoroughly aware how often suck leap~ ave taken in reality, and a bitter sense nf auger rose up in her heart as she thought that~ this mi~lit be the end of all her hopes. Leslie's engagement to ~Ar- thur Tyndale had been unpalatable enough but ('or Carl to fall in love with Norah Des- mond would fill the cup of disappointment to its brim. "Good Heavens, how things turn out in this world!" she thought, with a terri- ble sense of her own inability to stem their cur- rent, "and who can tell what dreadful results may follow from one false step! If Leslie had only listened to me-" But then it was an unalterable fact that Leslie had not lis- tened, as 'unalterable asMiss Desmond's pres- ence at Roslanci, concerning which Mrs. Mid- dieton called her own weakness sternly to account, and wasted much time in vain regret that she had not opposed such a step more strenuously and with greater authority. It was after dinner when she made these cheerful reflections. Mr. Middleton was smok- ing a cigar and reading a newspaper in the the dining - room, the decanters still on the table, and a glass of wine near his hand. Carl, having smoked out two or three cigar- ettes, at last sauuitered into the drawing- room, where he found his aunt alone. She was in her favorite nook - a recess large enough to contain her writing-table, her couch, her easy-chair, and all her luxurious parapher- nalia of special comforts-and he saw at once that he had no alternative but to join her. At another time, this necessity would not have presented itself in an unpleasant light; but just now he was particularly anxious to see Norah Desmnond, and he could not re- press a slight feeling of impatience at the prospect of one of those unlimited gossips which women love. He faced it, however, with a sufficiently good grace, though his pre- occupation of manner was so great that Mrs. Middleton soon detected the utter want of interest with which he received the various items of social and domestic news that she exerted herself to bestow upon him. She saw his eyes wander across the room, in which shaded lamp-light and summer twilight were mingled, to the veranda and lawn be- yond. Watching him closely, she caught a sudden quickening expressionn which flashed across his face, atid was very significant, as a pair' of white - clad figures caine slowly into sight, visible through the lace-draped window and green arch beyond. "Leslie took Miss Desmond out to enjoy the twilight," said she, changing her topic of 'conversation quite abruptly-a fact which it is probable Carl did not discover. "By-the- by, you have not told me yet what you think of her. Is she not lovely?" "Lovely!" repeated he, starting~ suddenly out of abstraction. "Yes, of course-only N ~'J r 0 0 A a $ / 4 ~ ~A~' -----7 / ~7 ~ p 34 page: -35[View Page -35] CARL MIDDLETON. 3 that is too weak a word! She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw!" Then-brought up short, as it were, by Mrs. Middleton's look of surprise-he blushed and laughed. "By Jove!" he said, "I thought you were talking of Miss Desmond. Is it Leslie you mean? Certainly she is very lovely - so graceful and refined-but she does not show to the best advantage by such a woman as her sister." "There is no comparison between them!" said Mrs. Middletori, sharply-for the cool- ness of this depreciation was more than even her patience could endure-" they belong to entirely different social types. Leslie bears every mark of exquisite refinement and high- breeding, while Miss esmond is a mere man's ~ieaut~~ / ~' "Is she?" said Carl, good . humoredly. "Then it is no wonder men rave over her as they do. You should have heard them on board the Russia ! Why, there were one or two fellows who were absolutely crazy about her! Now, y~u know, a woman must be remark. able to make a sensation like that on ship- board, for men are thinking of other things just then-their stomachs principally." "It is never in good taste to make a sensa- tion anywhere!" said Mrs. Middleton, in an ex-catkedi-a tone, which, to do her justice, she did not often employ. "No thorough-bred lady ever desires to do so!" " But a woman can't help being beautiful, you know," said Carl. "Of course it has its drawbacks sometimes; I have heard Miss iPesmond talk about them quite feelimgly. But I can assure you she did nothing to draw attention on herself. She is enough of a thor- ough-bred woman to avoid that, at any rate." "Is, she?" said Mrs. Middleton. With. out being a philosopher, she knew human nature well enough to avoid any argument on the score of Miss Desmond's breeding, or Miss Desmond's charms; she was perfectly aware that depreciation would only fan Carl's admiration to fever-heat; so, with a wisdom that many women lack, she allowed the sub- ject to drop, and soon after this sent him away. "Go and make your bird-of-paradise sing," slme~ said. "But ~he is not my bird-of- paradise," answered he. "And she sings only when she has a mind to--I give you warning of that!" He went willingly enough, however, and found the bird-of-paradise still on the lawn with Leslie. "Do you think this is quite prudent?" asked he, coming up to them as they sat under a large catalpa-tree, making a pretty picture in the soft twilight. "There is a very heavy dew on the grass. Look !" - and he pointed to his evening boots, all covered with clinging moisture. "It msy not be prudent, but it is very pleasant," said Leslie. "Every thing is so fragrant and exquisite! I have been making Norah listezi to the mocking-birds. She nev- er heard them before, you know." "And what a delicious note they have!" said Norah. "I cannot imagine any thing more sweet. Listen! is not that one, now?" "They sing in this grove all night tong," said Carl, "or at least they used to do so. I have often lain awake for hours listening to them. That fellow who is singing now is a perfect Mario!" "He is in the rose-hedge yonder," said Miss Desmond. "I think 1 shall go nearer, for the sake of listening to him." "Take cara, Norah, the grass is very wet," said Leslie. "I was just about to propose a return to the house, where we can hear yo~e sing, instead of the mocking-bird." "What an exchange!" said Norab; and~ as she spoke, she walked toward the hedge. "Go with her, Carl," said Miss Grahame, appealingly. "My shoes are too thin for me to venture into that high grass; and pray bring her back as soon as possible!" "All right," said Carl, hastening away. His heart gave a triumphant throb. Here was his opportunity sooner than he could have dared to hope. It is to be feared that he did not think much just then of the dew. laden grass clinging round Norah's delicate ankles The power of speaking to her alone was a boon worth purchasing at any cost. "Why did you come?" asked she, turn- ing round abruptly as he gained her side. "You should have stayed with Leslie. I am very well able to take care of myself, and I do not want to talk to you, but to listen to the mocking-bird." "I never doubted that," said he; "but it was Leslie who sent me. Not that I needed to be sent-you know that; but it was she who bade sac come. Pray excuse me if I ought to have stayed." 35 page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] MISS DESMOND'S MUSICAL TALENT. 37 86 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. "It is not a matter of the least impor- tance," answered she; "but of course Leslie will think that I came away to flirt." "I think you anticipate many harsh judg- ments which are never passed," said he, col- oring. "I will answer for Leslie that such a thought has not entered her mind. When you know her better, you will find that she is one of the most amiable and most unsuspect- ing people in the world." "I think I perceive that already," said Miss Desmond, thoughtfully. "And, in con- sequence, I feel like one who is at sea with- out a compass. I have been so much sur- prised to find Leslie what she is, that I scarce- ly realize my position, or-or what I am to do. I fsncied -1 confidently expected- something so different." "~ And so much more disagreeable, I am sure." "Yes, I confess that." "And why is it that you persist in always expecting the worst and thinking the worst of people?" "Because, in the course of my nineteen years, I have found that people always think the worst and expect the worst of me." "Stop a minute," said he, smiling. "I bind you on your honor to answer if you have found that eve~-~ibod~q, even in the course of your mature nineteen years, has thought or expected the worst of you?" "Men in lc~ve don't count," answered she. "A few of them have thought much better of me than 1 deserved." "I should count them worth all the rest," said he, coloring again. "Should you?" asked she, a little mock- ingly. "I cannot agree with you. If a man tells me that I am a goddess, for instance, I can only laugh at him, you know. Certainly, I could not be expected to respect an opinion so palpably absurd. But, when a woman says that I am a fast flirt, the words sting a little, because they have a modicum of truth in them. I have not been reared to regard con- ventionality overmuch, and I generally ac- Lept admiration when it is offered me." "I have never yet seen a woman who did not," said he. "But, without any high-flown folly, a man might hold you far above all oth- er women, and be worthy of credit if he told you so." "That is a kind of homage which has never been offered to me," said she, with a look of quick pain-which the twilight hid-' crossing her face. "Men, as a general rule, have fallen in love and made fools of them. selves about me, against their better judg- ment. I am afraid I should not believe in any thing else if it were given to me now. But this is a tiresome subject, ond we came -at least Icame-to listen to the mocking- bird. I think our voices must have startled him, for he has ceased to sing." "Ceased, in a paroxysm of envy, to listen to you, I am sure." "Don't credit him with the meanest of our poor passions," said she. "That was a very neat compliment, however. Such things are like an inspiration, are they not? Now, I am sure you could not do as well again." "Do you mean that as a challenge for me to try?" "Not by any means, since a prepared compliment is about as excellent as twice- cooked meat. In fact, I do not like compli- ments, under any circumstances," added she, frankly. "Then I shall employ more fragrant lips to utter mine for me," said he, pausing to break a rose-for they were now among the shrubbery-which even in the gloaming he could perceive to be one of the most royal and beautiful of its kind. Having done this, he turned to his companion. "I know noth- ing about the language of flowers," he said; "but this rose seems to me ~o typify you bet- ter than any other flower possibly could, and -it raiJcs far above aU others, yo~e know I" Then, after a pause, in a lower tone: "Will you take it?" She hesitated a moment-during which Middleton would have given any thing he possessed for a light in which to see her face -but, as he began to gather courage from her hesitation, she extended her hand with a laugh that made his courage sink to zero again. "Thanks; you are very kind," she said. "I think my challenge must have put you on your mettle, for your second effort is better than your first. What a lovely rose! Ilow good of you to say that it typifies me! I only wish I were half so glowing and per- fect!" "If you were any other woman, I should ~ay that wish was an egregious affectation,~~ said Carl, provoked by her nonchalance. "But, as it is, you are kind enough to give me credit for sincerity," she said-and he heard her laugh again. "How very com- plimentary you are to-night! Is it your un- cle's excellent champagne which has inspired you? It would be pleasant to remain and hear you go from better to best; but I am becoming aware that the grass is damp, and, since Mario will not give us another rouade, it might be as well to return to the house. A piOJJQS of your pretty speeches, I have a shrewd suspicion that, if Leslie does not think that I am flirting, your aunt will not be so charitable!" "We don't think quite so much of leather and prunella here as in the countries to which you arc accustomed," said he, as he tui~ne'1 and walked by her side. "Where do you draw the line between what is de riqucur, and what is not?" she asked. "I should really like to know. Per- haps on this side of the water I may find my- self a very conventional and respectable per. ~son, indeed." "You must ask some one better up in the proprieties than I am," he answered. "When they present themselves to mc, it is generally in the light of such particularly un-. pleasant bores that I have never given them the attention which they doubtless deserve." To cross a lawn cannot possibly take a very long time under any circumstances, so they soon found themselves in the drawing. room, where Miss Desmond went at once to the piano, without any troublesome solicita- tion. Notes she had none, but her command of the instrument was perfect, and her knowl- edge of harmony very good. After a well- modulated prelude, she began to sing. De- scriptions of singing are mostly unsatisfac- tory, and very unmeaning to all save the technical, musical mind; so it is sufficient to say that a voice like this, which rose now and floated out on the midsummer night, had nev- er sounded before within the walls of lbs. land. A contralto so rich, so sweet, so pow- erful, would have been likely to command attention and admiration anywhere; hut here it was greeted with an enthusiasm that might have gratified the most exacting prima-donna on the lyric stage. It was a voice strangely familiar, and strangely fraught with association to one who did not form part of the group in the draw- ing-room. A solitary man, standing on a bridge that crossed a small stream not far from the house, heard the clear, full notes rising as he moodily smoked his cigar, and their cadence seemed suddenly to stir into life the wild thrill of an old passion which be had thought dead forever. -4--- CHAPTER VII. '~The branches cross above our eyes, The skies are in a net; And what's the thing beneath the skies We two would most forget? Not birth, my love, no, no- Not death, my love, no, no- The love once ours, but ours long hours ago." "I SUPPOSE there is nothing for it but to face the music, Max!" It was Arthur Tyndale who spoke thus, not interrogatively, but with a sort of gloomy decision, as he leaned back in his chair, stroked the silken ears of his favorite setter, and regarded his cousin, who, having come down late, was eating his breakfast with the appetite of a man who is neither dyspeptic, bankrupt, nor yet in love. "I confess I am not able to perceive any very clear alternative," Captain Tyndale an- swered, frankly. "It is an awkward position; but you have had a month or two in which to prepare yourself for it, so I really don't see why you should take it an tragique at the Inst minute." "Oh, you don't!" said Arthur, sardon- ically. "No-I suppose riot, I believe we rarely ever do see any reason for the troubles and annoyances of other people! All the same-if you were in my place-" "Which I am not, thank Heaven!" "-You might be conscious of a strong temptation to order your horse and take the earliest train from Wexford in any direction, sooner than walk over to Rosland and face Norah Desmond." "Face her! '~ repeated the other, impatient- ly. "But what do you think she will do? If she is half the woman you have described her to be, she is not likely to assert her claim to you in the face of the assembled family." "The assembled family would be matter of the least possible importance compared to leer 1', "Or to upbraid you with your desertion, after the fashion of a melodramatic heroine?" "Don't be a fool, Max!" page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. AN AWKWA "Then, in the name of common-sense, what are you afraid of?" "I am afraid of nothing," said Tyndale, coloring. "But you might understand that it is confoundedly awkward-to use the mild- est possible phrase-to meet a woman who has good reason for thinking you are engaged to her, in the presence of another woman to whom you are engaged." "fim!" said Max, carving a chicken. "I can imagine that it might be slightly un- pleasant. But you should have thought of that in time." "Thought of it! But how the deuce could I think of' it when, up to the first of May, I had no more reason for imagining that Norah Desmond was connected with Leslie Grahame, than I have for imagining that she is connected with you!" He spoke so much in the tone of one who has been aggrieved by some supreme injury of Fate, that Max Tyndale absolutely opened his dark eyes andstared at him. "By Jove!" he said, half' aloud. Then he stroked his mustache and went on, devoting his attention to the chicken. Arthur had been something of a study to him during the last two months, and this phase of his character was no new revelation. "Are you going to walk over to Rosland this morning?" lie asked, after a while. "I suppose I ought to do so," Arthur an- swer~d, hesitatingly. "You'll come too, woii' iou?" "I think not. Most likely I'll spend the day lo~.inging in the ~housc. It is too hot for any thing else." "They are always glad to see you at los- land," "II know that; but, all the same, I won't trouble them this snorning2' Tyndale made a slightly-impatient move- ment and turned away. It would have been a satisfaction to him to have had Max at his o as a sort of moral support, and lie felt vexed that his cousin should not have been aware of this fact. He was ashamed to make his request more particular or pressing, how- ever, and so it came to pass that, in the course of the next hour, he set off alone- taking a footpath through the woods to Ros- land. The morning was indeed very warm, but he was scarcely conscious of' the heat. With every step his nervousunsa increased. Clearer and clearer came the remembrance of how he had parted with Norah Desmond last, and the realization of how he was about to meet her now! More and more perfectly lie ap. preciated how entirely he was in her power. He began to ask himself if he had been mad to let things go on thus far in the vague hope or chance of influencing her to silence. "Why did I not tell Leslie any thing?" he muttered, thinking of the day when she had asked him whether there was any reason why her sister should not be invited to her uncle's house, and he had felt constrained to answer that there was none. Now lie looked back upon this answer as a piece of pusillanimous folly, seeing clearly that he had "owed it to him- self" to put the girl's character in such a light that Leslie would never have been in- clined to take any step toward nearer ac- quaintanceship. It must not b~ supposed that this opinion was a reckless impulse born of an hour or a day; it was rather the slow result of two months spent in halting between honor and dishonor, in counting the chances for and against detection, in persuading him- self' that they were very strongly in his favor, and in cultivating an habitually injured frame of mind, which he found to he a very solid and permanent comfort. Just now it was less of a comfort thaii it had ever been before. Things which he had striven to ignore-memories from which he shrank-came back and stared him grimly in the face. He could not rid himself of the consciousness that already-if Miss Desmond had chosen to speak-he might find the doors of Rosland closed to him; already he might be east out indignantly from Leslie's heart. Standing on the bridge where Norali's voice had floated down to him the night before, he forgot himself far enough to curse her in his heart-her and "his luck." No man was ever in such a position before, he thought; and, so thinking, turned on his heel. Even liere-~--in sight of the very walls of' Roslaud-' he could not resolve to face her. But, as he turned - filled with the one vague idea of escaping from the embarrass- ment which awaited him --voices suddenly smote on his esr-gay tones and light laugh ter floated to him. The next moment, around a turn of the path, two ladies and a gentleman came slowly sauntering toivard the bridge. It was too late for retreat-even if lie had still desired to make it. Fate had come to* his assistance, and cut with sharp decision the Gordian knot of his vacillation. "There is Arthur!" he heard Leslie say; and after that he could only advance to meet them. The meeting was, of course, less terrible than he had pictured it. Conventionalities are good things to keep troublesome emotions in check~; and there are few of us who could dispense with the beneficent aid of common- places at those critical moments when the heart seems beating in the throat, and the lip quivers over every thing save the baldest platitudes. Afterward Tyndalo could recall little besides a sudden great wave of recollec- tion, which came over him with the force of an absolute shock, as Leslie said, "Norah, let me introduce Mr. Tyndale: this is my sister, Arthur;" and, looking up, he met No- rah's brilliant eyes fastened on him. It was almost unconsciously that he bowed and said something-he did not know what-about her journey. The past rushed hack upon him with a power which he could hardly ivithstand. Her face, her figure, the very or- naments she wore, the very fragrance that hung like a faint incense about her, seemed to conjure before him the green lindens of Baden-seemed to bring back, with a sense of overwhelming reality, scenes and words which-being more weak than willful in dis- honor-he would have given any thing to ef- face by some spell of oblivion. But such a spell was difficult to find with the "haunting fairness" of her face before him, and the splendor of her eyes thrilling his very soul. lIe was forced to give himself a sort of men- tal shake in order to remember where he really was when she spoke to him-spoke as she might have spoken to the most indiffer- ent stranger who crossed her path. "Thanks; yes-I had a very pleasant voyage," she said-but he seemed to catch the echo of other words in every tone; he seemed to hear again tfle sweet thrill of ten- derness which had filled that voice when they parted two 'years before! Leslie did not observe his agitation; but there was some one else who did. When he greeted Carl Middleton, the latter noticed that the hand offered him was cold, and shook nervously. Instinctively he glanced at Leslie, but her bright smile forbade the idea that she was, in any way, connected with such an agi- tation. Then he looked at Norah. She was holding her dress lightly aside from the grass AN AWKWA ~RD POSITION. 39 -as supremely calm and coolly nonchalant as it was possible for a woman to appear. Carl felt a little puzzled, and glanced back at Tyndale. The latter had turned to speak to Miss Graharne, but the first tone of his voice betrayed to a finely-strung ear the nervous tension in which he was holding himself'. "I was on my way to the house," he said. "I had no idea of finding you out. Is it not rather warm to be walking ~ 9" a. "I brought Norah out to show her the grounds," Leslie answered, "but perhaps it is too warm for exercise.-If you think so" (turning to her sister), "we will go back," "Not on my account," said Norab, quick. ly. "Our path ba~ been so shaded that the sun has not been able to do more than glance at us, and there is a breeze which we do not feel in the house. Besides, I like to be in the open air. I think it is where we should live in summer,,~ "It is an ascertained fact that the people of America spend less time in the open air than any other people in the world," said Carl, meditatively. "Do you mean that as a thing to be ad- mired or decried?" asked Miss Desmond. "For my part, I think it very extraordinary. How can they resist the invitation which every gleam of sunshine seems to give ?-Now, what a charming place this is just before us! How clear the stream looks under the over- hanging shade! How prettily the shadows flicker-how softly the water murmurs I Such a scene is enough in itself to tempt one to idleness! - Have you ever outgrown your childish fancy for wading, Mr. Middleton? I confess that I never have." She moved forward-passing Tyndale so closely that her dress touched him-followed by Carl. On the bridge they paused. "Do you feel inclined to try a little wad- ing?" he asked, leaning over the railing, but looking up in her face. "You did not give me time to answer your question; but I never have outgrown my fa~icy for it." She laughed, and glanced down at her daintily-clad feet. "I am afraid the golden age for that pas- toral pleasure is over for me," she said. "My recollee~ion of it is somewhat like a mali's sentimental yearning over the memory of his first love. How much aghast he would be if sentenced to pass his lif'e with the wom- an lie loved at twenty I-and I am afraid I page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. FIRST IMPRESSIONS. could scarcely go back into Arcadia suffi- ciently to enjoy the ripple of even that cool, clear water around my feet. This is a de- lightful place, however, even to those who have left Arcadia behind. It would be pleas- ant, would it not, to come down here some day and fish?" "It would be pleasant to fish anywhere with you," her companion answered, quite truthfully. "But it would be foolish to cast our nets or our lines here, with the river near at hand full of capital fish." "Is the river near at hand? How near?" "Something like half a mile, I think.-I say, Leslie" - as Miss Grahame advanced toward them-" how far are we from the river?" "A quarter of a mile, perhaps," said Les- lie, "but why do you ask? It is too warm to go on the water at this time of day." "Do you go on the water?" asked Norah. "Have you a boat? We were talking of fish- ing, but boating is my idea of beatitude." "I think you are more than half mer- maid," said Carl. "I wish I were," said she, sighing. "it would be pleasant to live three hundred years, and then be dissolved into sea-foam-even so much better than the prospect of being hag- gard and toothless at threescore 1-Don't you think so, Leslie?" "It is only the exceptional people who live to threescore," said Leslie. "We need not flatter ourselves with the idea of such good luck." "Such bad luck, you mean," answered the other. Then she turned to Carl. "Did you not promise to show me the Dutch sum. mer-liouse where you mean to retire when you feel particularly Teutonic?" she asked. "Is it near here?" "It is not very far of!'. I shall be de- lighted to cicerone you, if you feel inclined to come with me." "Of course I feel inclined," said she. "Should I have spoken of it if I had not? -Leslie, you will excuse us, will you not? -Thanks, Mr. Tyndale" (as Arthur disentan- gled her parasol from the low branch of a tree), "fringe and lace are trQublesome things. -Is it this way, Mr. Middleton?" Graceful and self-possessed as ever, she walked away with Carl, and Leslie would have turned to follow if Tyndale had not inter- fered. "Need we go and look at the summer- house?" he asked. "We know all about it, and the sun is horrihly warm. Let us go back to the house.~~ "But I want you to see Norah," said Les- lie. "You have scarcely spoken to her as yet. I w~nt you to know her. You were so right in telling me that she is fascinating! There never was any thing more true. She has fascinated all of us already." "I see that she has fascinated your cous- in," said he, bitterly. "But that is not re- markable I She is the most thorough-paced and unscrupulous coquette I have ever seen 1" "I think you do her injustice!" said Miss Grahame. "She is so beautiful - would it not be strange if she did not like the admi- ration which is offered her? And then, how much of it must have been offered I Enough to spoil the characters and turn the heads of half a dozen ordinary women, you may be sure." "Of course she has been admired," said Tyndale, gloomily. "Nobody could look at her and doubt that. I think she is handsomer than ever 1" he added, in a disgusted tone, for, unconsciously to himself, he had rather cherished the expectation that Norak's brill- iant beauty would have "gone off" in watch- ing for him. "I do not think anybody could be more beautiful!" said Leslie; "and this reminds me to ask if you are quite sure you never knew her when you were abroad?" "Am I quite sure I" repeated Tyndale. His heart seemed to stand still for a minute, his blond complexion changed its color vio- lently two or three times. "Good Heavens, Leslie, what do you mean? Why should I not be sure?" "I thought it was scarcely likely you could be mistaken," said Leslie, with a com- posure that proved how far any thing like suspicion was from 'hee mind, "but Norah seemed to think that she had met you-at least, she spoke of having known some one who was named Tyndale, abroad." "Did she?" said he, with a short gasp. "And you-what did you tell her?" "I told her that it could not have been yourself, for you had distinctly told me that, although you had seen her, you had not known her." "And then?" "Well, then, of course, she said that it must have been another person; but I thought afterward that perhaps you might have been introduced to her-at a ball or some place of that kind-and forgotten it." "Am I likely to have forgotten it?" asked he, breaking into bitterness again. "Is any man likely to forget such a woman? For good or for evil, one would have no al- ternative but to remember her." "I see that you are very much prejudiced against her," said Leslie, looking at him in surprise. "Why do you speak so harshly? Has she ever done any harm to any one whom you know? Aunt Mildred thinks that it must have been your cousin who was the Tyndale she knew abroad. Is it so? and did she break his heart, or otherwise injure him?" "No," said Tyndale, almost savagely. "Max is a lucky fellow-he has too much cool, h~d common-sense to fall into the toils of such a woman as that. Forgive me, Les- lie "-as he caught her pained and half-in- dignant look-" but you know I gave you warning beforehand what manner of person she was." "But I have seen nothing to justify your warning," said Leslie. "I think you must have been listening to the accounts given of her by the enemies whom every beautiful woman is unfortunate enough to possess. Come!" she added, smiling, "come and give her an opportunity to fascinate you. I insist upon it." Despite the smile, he saw that she was in earnest, and, too guiltily conscious of lila mo- tives to make further demur, he went with her along the path where the others had dis- appeared. "After all, perhaps it is best!" he thought. "I must, if possible, see Norah alone for ten minutes. I must know what she intends to do. What did ,she mean by that allusion to me last night? This suspense is more than any man could bear." Meanwhile, Norah and Carl had reached the summer-house, which looked as if it had been imported from Am~terdam, as it crowned a softly-rising knoll in the midst of the shrub- bery. The door stood qpen, and, mounting a flight of steps, they went in. The tiled floor, the quaint roof, the windows latticed with green vines, all seemed like a bit, of still-life from one of Teniers's pictures. "Surely a Hollander or a Fleming must have designed this," said Norah. "It is in the purest style of Dutch architecture. 41 I have seen a hundred like it in the Low Countries. One almost expects to look out of the window at canals and 'dikes." "The last owner of Rosland was a Dutch- man," said Carl. "I don't think my uncle has owned the place more than twenty years." Then he walked to one of the casements. "The view does not command any canals or dikes," he said, "but it is really beautiful, Miss Desmond. Come and look!" Thus bidden, Norah went and looked. It was certainly a fair, pastoral scene. All around were the green nooks and dells of the shrubbery, while beyond were shadowy woods, rich with midsummer foliage, and ringing with a soft echo of; midsummer mirth, level fields stretching to where a dense growth of willows marked the winding course of the river, and blue hills softly melting into dis- tance far away. From another window they could see the path which led to Strafford, and catch a glimpse of the gabled house rising above its noble oaks. "That is a charming old place, as well as I remember," said Carl. "I should not won- der if it had been instrumental in tempting Leslie. When she was a child, she had the greatest possible fancy for it. By-the-by, what do you think of herjfand? He is good. looking, certainly; but somehow he struck me just a little unpleasantly." "There are few things more unwise than to judge people at first sight," said Miss Des- mond, with the air of one who delivers a grave moral truth. "I have laid it down as a rule of life to distrust first impressions al- ways and most emphatically." "Still, I should like to hear what your first impression of Mr. Tyndale has been," said he, looking at her. "I have an idea that it is not very different from mine. Am I impertinent?" he added, half laughing, as he saw her change color slightly. "No, you are not impertinent," she an- swered, coolly. "If you were, I should not hesitate to tell you so. But you are inquisi- tive, and that is not usually esteemed the height of civility." "Is it not? Well, I was never much at civility-Leslie will tell you that. But, seri- ously, now, what do you think of the fel- low?" "Seriously, I have not taken the trouble to think of him at all." "Then it must follow that you don't eon- 4 41) page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 A DAUGHTER OF BOIIIIMIA. sider him worth the trouble of thinking about." "Whatever ~follows is fortunately not a matter of any importance to him or to you." "He is decidedly a beauty-man-don't you think so?" "Very likely; but I have juever noticed that fortunate class sufficiently to recognize their peculiar traits at sight." "Don't you like them?" "I scarcely know. I am such an amiable person that I like everybody, except trouble- some people who ask foolish questions." "I should never think of describing you as an amiable person," said he, coloring un- der this rebuke. "Ah! What then-n termagant?" "God only knows-a witch, more likely." "Thanks for the compliment. Witches are always so particularly handsome that I appreciate the full force of it." "A siren, then. A-anything that turns men's heads." "Really, it iS hard to make one answer- able for the vagaries of men's heads. The most of them have so little ballast that they are easily turned." "Your tongue is like a two-edged sword," said he. "N.o matter whut I say, I am sure to get the worst of it." "And yet you are one of my particular favorites," said she. "There are few people whom I treat with the consideration that I have always shown you." "Heaven help those whom you treat with less, then I" "You say that with great unction; do you fancy them in danger of a scratched face?" "It does not matter what I fancy; but I am sure that any man in his sane senses would rather have his face scratched by you than caressed by any other woman." "Speak for yourself," said she, coldly. And he saw that he had offended her. "It is 'not necessary to make your accusation of bad taste so general." "I did not mean-" he began, contritely, but ~uis excuses were out short, for at that moment Leslie and Tyndale appeared at the open door. A~ What a pretty tableau you make!" the former said. "They look like a picture-do they not, Arthur? I should say a Dutch picture, only Norah's Paris dress does not agree very well with our ideas of Dutch art." "She is more like a figure out of a Wat- teau," said Tyndale, with a desperate attempt to appear at ease. "And little enough like that," said Carl. "Her dress, perhaps, may be-but Watteau never painted such a face! The colors have never been mixed, save on the palettes of Titian or Rubens, to do Miss Desmond jus- tice." "Norab, how do you like to be Qiseussed in such cool fashion, as if you were really a picture?" asked Leslie, smiling. "I sup. pose you grow used to it, however; and, to a beautiful woman, all flattery must be tame after that of her mirror. What have you two been talking about?" she went on, ad- vancing into the summer - house. "As we came up you looked not only comfortable, but confidential." "Every thing relating to the nature of man comes under the head of philosophy,~~ said Carl, gravely; "therefore, we have been talking philosophy." "After the fashion of Punch," said Norab. "What is mind? No ma12ter. What is mat- ter? Never mind. What is the nature of the soul? It is immaterial." "That is capital 1" said Carl. "I shall send it to a friend of mine in Germany. It will do him good." "Are you sure you don't need it your. self?" suggested ~he. "It is never well to be too generous. Yen remind me of the pee. pie who, whenever a particularly telling point is made in a sermon, think how well that suits their, brother, or their sister, or their neighbor over the way." "But Punch's sarcasm does not affect me at all," said he, sincerely, "for no man ever troubled himself less than I do about such questions. I would not give one day of gold- en idleness like this for the whole of Kant and Jean Paul." "It is pleasant!" said Leslie. "Norah is right: even at the expense of becoming a little tanned, one ought to live in the open air in summer. It is a pity that I must go to the house and write some tiresome letters for the wail, is it not ?-No, I won't be selfish enough to take you" (as Tyndale started forward with alacrity). "I believe I would rather have Carl. I can make him write one or two of them for me." "Heavens and earth, Leslie!" said Carl. * "You can't be in earnest 1 - you don't se- riously think that I wil ters on such a day as tI "I seriously think Leslie, with an air of your cousins, the Brani six weeks ago, asking f~ have never answered do it to-day." "I am very sorry to he, "but the proposal never could bear those ing to them-" "Whether you can 1 you cannot, you must C ter!" interrupted Lesli~ a reason for being so pt made up her mind tha should know each other is generally esteemed t dancing personal know mined that they should and also determined nc Carl's idleness and obst "Pray do not com said, turning to Norab. here for an hour or tw bring you to the house come." "I am quite ready n rising. But Leslie had alre luctant and protesting- as Miss Desmond mov Tyndale took his eoura~ stepped before her. "One moment!" he I must speak to you." lie thought he had 12 emergency-that he co by any thing she might she lifted her eyes, full to his face, he was cons lution ebbed from hin hopelessly as if she had to whom Middleton had "Excuse me," she suited the glance. *" Au can desire to say which to hear, I prefer to folio "But I must speak I the hoarseness still ap the color coming and his face. "You canno few minutes-you eann me! I shall not detain ARTHUR'S INTERVIEW ~ITH NORAH. 1 go in and write let. "I decline absolutely to give you one nun- ute," he answered, haughtily. "I refuse ab- you will," answered solutel to listen to one word that you have determination; "for to say." ley girls, wrote to me "I this generous-is this just, Norab?" ~r news of you, and I " ow do you dare to address me in that he letter. You shall unanne ?" she asked - a sudden flash of lightni g-like anger breaking up the coldness disappoint you," said of her face. is really absurd. I " ardon me," he answered. "But it is girls, and as for writ- hard o see you, and not to remember the days hen you were Norab to me." Lear them, or whether " ill you stand aside and let me pass 2 nine and write the let- was h r only reply. ~, decidedly She had " o!" he rejoined, sharply. "how can remptory, for she had you as it? How cap you think that I should t Norah and Tyndale meet ou like this and let you go? You must and since a tt~te-d-t6te see for yourself that it is absolutely necessary he best means of ad- for us o understand each other!" ledge, she was deter- "I is never well to take things too much have this advantage, for gr nted, Mr. Tyndale," she said. "So t to be thwarted by far fro seeing it, I am unable to recognize inacy. the least necessity why we should understand e because I do," she each o her." "It will be pleasant " on can say that to 9ne-Norah !" yet, and Arthur will Sh drew herself up superbly. Always of rhen you are ready to quceni stature and more than queenly bear- ing, she looked just then as if her form had ow," answered Norah, come own to her from the heroic days. on forget yourself strangely!" she ady drawn Carl - re- said. ~' Once more, will you move aside and -down the steps, and, let me pass, or must I understand that you ed forward to follow, intend to keep me here that you may insult ge in both hands and me at our leisure?" "I the truth an insult? " asked he, flush- said, hoarsely. "I- ing de ply. "If so, it. is no fault of mine. Norah, we have no time to waste in idle fen- ~raced himself for any cing. Say what you please-and I remember- uld not be unnerved of old how bitter your tongue can be 1-all do or say-but, when the sa e, I am determined not to stir from of astonished ltauteur, this s ot until definitely and finally we under- ~ious that all his reso-. -stand ach other." as completely and "I is impossible to rate your chivalry too been indeed the witch high, r. Tyndale," she said, with a glance likened her, of sco n. "Since I am a prisoner at your said, in a tene that please e, however, and since it seems to you there is nothing you a mat er of so much importance that~ we I can possibly desire should understand each other, it may be worth w my sister." while o say that I understand you perfectly." ~o you!" he repeated, He might have answered truly enough parent in his voice, ~hat this was ~ot what he desired-that the going in patches on vitally important point with him was the ne- *t refuse to give me a cessity of understanding her - but, instead at refuse to listen to of this, her open contempt roused him to a you long." different rejoinder. I page: 44 (Illustration) [View Page 44 (Illustration) ] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. "I doubt if you understand me at all," he said. "For the matter of that~ I doubt if you ever did understand me." "Did I not?" said she, with indifference. "It mutt have been owing to my own want of attention, then -certainly not to any thing particularly abstruse in the nature of the sub- ject. I cannot say that I have acquired any new degree of interest since I had the pleas- nrc of seeing you last," she went on, calmly. "I can imagine," he said, quickly, "that you may have learned to feel very bitterly toward me. But, if you will only suffer me to explain-" She interrupted him by a~ gesture, which be never forgot. "You mistake my meaning entirely," she said. "Feel bitterly toward you I Why should I? Explain? What is there to ex- plain?" Her eyes faced him with such steady lus. tre that his own lids fell. He realized then how unequal he was to ~the encounter he had provoked. What could he say to such a woman as this? He had never been a match for her-he knew that well-she had always been a perverse and tantalizing enigma to him; but he had never felt so hopelessly be- wildered as now. The cool disdain with which it pleased her to treat the past was so different from the passionate resentment he had expected, that he felt wholly unable to cope with it. Catching' desperately at the first idea which presented itself, he uttered the very last thing which should have found expression on his lips. "Norah," he said, passionately, "it is im- possible for you to have forgotten that you loved me once I" Instantly he read his mistake in the glow which came into' her eyes, in the haughty curve of her clear-cut, resolute mouth. "How entirely you are pleased to justify my opinion of your character, Mr. Tyndale!" she said, in a tone so full of contemptuous meaning that it cut like a whip. "But you must pardon me if I say that you flatter your- self too much. If all the men with whom I have chanced to amuse myself were kind enough to say that I 'loved them once,' I should be credited with a most facile and im~ pressionable heart, indeed." Looking at the beautiful, proud face, at the brilliant, scornful eyes, a sudden, 'horri- ble fear that she might be speaking truth came over him. I havc written the word hor- rible advisedly; for, to a man of Arthur Tyn. dale's stamp, there was something inexpres- sibly humiliating in the mere suspicion that 1w-so magnificent in worldly gifts, so full of worldly knowledge-should have blindly served as the plaything of a coquette. The thought of his own broken faith lie could face with due philosophy, but the idea of having been entwined in such a net as that which an- noyed and cramped him at present, for the mere amusement of a "Bohemian adventu- ress," was more than he could endure. "You know that you are insinuating what is not true!" he said, forgetting courtesy, chivalry, every thing, in the sharp stab under which his pride was writhing. "You know that, whatever else I may or may not have been, I was something more than material for amusement to you!" "Were you? " she said, quietly; but there was that in her eyes which might have warned him that this calm boded no good. "You must excuse my forgetfulness of the fact. I rarely trouble myself to remember any thing of the past-except my debts." The significance of the last words were not lost on him; but, feeling that the con- versation had taken a wrong turn-conscious that he was doing himself infinitely more harm than good-he caught eagerly at this the first opportunity she had given him to learn what she really meant to do. "You have-or you may think that your have-a debt against me," he said, quickly. "How do you mean to pay that, Norah?" "Have I a debt against you, Mr. Tyn. dale?" said she, with a kind of mocking sur- prise. "I am afraid I must ask you to re- fresh my memory with regard to it. Past follies are the things of all others which I most readily forget." - "You are trying my patience!" he said, setting his teeth savagely. "But you would do well to remember that you may try it a little too far." "And what of mine?" she asked, with the well-remembered Celtic passion suddenly blazing out upon him from every eloquent feature. "Do you think that, because I have chosen to ignore your insults, I have not felt and shall not remember them? Your knowledge of me might have helped you to judge better than that. We have met to-day as strangers," she ~vent on, after a I :1 - ~- -~ _______________ 44 4 a a S U C 0 S ~0 0 a a S. 0 & .2' a 0 0 'I a.' e 0 page: -45[View Page -45] I moment ; " as strangers ever hereafter we shall meet. Remember this ; and remember, also, that, if you ever presume to address me again as you have addressed me here, the means of remedy are in my hands, and I shall not hesitate to use them unsparingly." " If you are attempting to threaten me-" he began, with the air of a Bayard. But she interrupted him with cool de- cision.- " Pardon me, I am merely placing a plain alternative before you. Having done so, there is nothing more to add. The past of my life in which you have played a short and most unworthy part, is dead forever, and God is my witness "-extending her white arm with sudden, passionate energy-" that, if I could drain my blood to wash out its last lingering memory, I would gladly do so ! With my fu.- ture you have no connection. It is not neces- sary to remind me that you wish none "-as his lips unclosed. "L I will take that for grant- ed all the more readily, because any associa- tion with you would be the last, worst evil which Fate could send to me. Now, will you be kind enough to go ? I can readily find my way to the house alone." , Couched in the form of a request, these words were, in truth, little more than an im- perious command; but, conscious in what bungling fashion he had gone to work-con- scious that he had learned literally nothing of that which he most desired to know- Tyndale made one last effort. -" For God's sake, Norah, don't send me away like this !" he said, eagerly. " How can I tell when I may be able to speak to you again; and I-I must know what you mean to do ! Any certainty is better than-" He stopped short. Though he was stand- ing with his back to the door, something in Norah's eyes suddenly warned him of anoth- er presence in the summer-house besides their own. Turning sharply, he faced Carl Mid- dieton. - CHAPTER VIII.- " To-morrow we meet the same, then, dearest ? May I take your hand in mine ? Mere friends are we-well, friends the merest Keep much that I'll resign." THERE was a second's awkward pause. Then Middleton had sufficient presence of mind to come forward, as if he saw no thing 45 unusual in the faces or the attitudes before him. " Am I not lucky to get off duty so soon ?" he said. " When we reached the house, Les- lie found some visitors, and I at once slipped away -grateful enough to them for having come, you may be sure." " You are lucky," said Norah, smiling- she had well - trained muscles, for no one could have told from that smile how her pulses were beating, with a rush which made itself felt in one vibrating thrill through her whole body -" I congratulate you on your escape, and I am glad to see you back-very glad !" she added, with an unmistakable ac- .cent of sincerity. / - The young man flushed a little-evidently with pleasure. "You are very kind to say so," he answered. " I am glad to find you still here. I thought you might have wan- dered away somewhere-only it is scorching out in the sun." " Too scorching for wandering, I should think," said she, and she sat down almost wea- rily as she spoke-having, in truth, good cause to be weary after the battle she had fought. " Do you feel tired ?" asked Carl, quick- ly. "Absolutely, for once in a way, you look pale." "Do I? That is strange-heat ought to flush, ought it not ? Suppose you come and play the part of Zephyr," she added, holding out her fan. " You don't object, do you ?" Object ! No one could have. suspected him of such a sentiment who saw the eager- ness with which he advanced, and, taking the pretty toy, began to -play the part rather'of Bloreas than of Zephyr. * " There !-that will do !" said she. " I don't want to be blown away entirely. Are you going, Mr. Tyndale ? Pray tell Leslie that I will follow as soon as I can summon sufficient resolution for the effort. If you could only order up a cloud or two for; our benefit, it would be a great relief." " I am sorry that I cannot-do even that much in your service," said Tyndale, with more bitterness than it was wise to have dis- played; but he could not entirely repress the exasperation which he felt in seeing another man enjoy before hbis very eyes tlie place he had lost or resigned-it did not, at that mo- ment, matter which. " Tell Leslie to send an umbrella, won't you?" said Carl, in his offhand fashion. "It AN INOPPORTUNE APPEARANCE. I page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] 46 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. CARL MIDDLETON'S PROPOSAL. 47 was awfully thoughtless of me not to have brought one." Thus, burdened with a double message, Mr. Tyndale took his departure-descending the steps of the pavilion, and walking away down an arcade which led to the house. As Norah looked after him, the scene made a picture which she never forgot-the vivid sunlight quivering on the deep-green foliage, the flickering net - work of. shadows falling softly over the ~mooth turf, the blue sky flecked here and there with fleecy clouds, and the slender, graceful figure, thrown into re- lief by the summer landscape and the golden light. When she glanced back at Carl Middleton, however, and saw by the look in his eyes that lie had been watching her, a suddeii blush rose to her face. "It is very ill-bred to stare at people!" she said, sharply. "I have told you so be- fore, and you know that I dislike it particu- larly." "Is it ill-bred?" asked lie. "This is the second time to-day that you have convicted inc of a solecism of good manners. But, if it is ill-hi-ed, why were you stai-ing at Mr. Tyn. dale?" "I was not staring at him," she answered, with a flash in her eye which showed the ig- nited spark of a quick temper. "You are very impertinent to venture to say so! There is a very great difference between staring and -and looking at a person." I was only looking at you," lie said, quietly. "One stares, does one *not, when one means to be impertinent? Now, I cer- tainly did not mean that, for I was engaged in wondering why you looked at Tyndale in just that way!" " In just what way?" asked she, carelessly. "lie has a good figure and carries it well. I like both things in a man-and, liking them, I like also to watch them." "Yet the expression of your face did not look much as if you were thinking of his fig- ure, or of his walk," said Middleton. "It - looked rather as if you were thinking of him." "Your impertinence appears to be ascend- ing in the scale of comparison," said she, "but, * for the novelty of' the thing, I am rather in- ehin~id to humor it. So, granting that I was thinking of him-what then?" "I have already been impertinent in the positive and comparative degrees, have I not?" he asked, in return. "Then I might as well be impertinent in the superlative, and ask u/wi you were thinking of him." She laughed. She was recovering herself, and any thing like a tilt of Words and wit always pleased her. "Do you chance to remember what hot- spur answered when Owen Glendower boasted that he could call spirits from the vasty deep ?" she inquired. "'So can I; but will they come?' Now it strikes me that is rather apphicihble to your question. It is asked, but will it be an- swered?" "I am more resigned than you imagine, perhaps," he said; "for I have a suspicion that the answer would not be likely to please me if it were given." "Are you, then, so deeply interested in Mr. Tyndale that an unfavorable opinion of him might distress you? "I am not interested in 1/i-. 2)~udale at all," he answered, dryly. "Oh, in Leslie's Jianci? Iliad really for- gotten for a moment that he filled that posi- tion." "Nor in Leslie'sfiaaci," said he. "I had forgotten, too, for a minute, that he filled that position. It would be a little strange, would it not, if he should prove to have been afflicted with the same lapse of memory regarding the same fact?" She glanced at him keenly. The signifi- cance of his tone made her sure that he had overheard more than she supposed of her con- versation with Tyndale. "It is not likely that lie could have for- gotten such a fact," she answered, coldly. "But it does not concern either you or me if he had." "It concerns mc I" said he, quickly. "You may rest assured of that, Miss Desmond." "As Leslie's cousin, I suppose," said she, composedly. "But do cousins usually take quite so -much upon themselves in Amer- ica?" "I am not Leslie's cousin, save by eour- tesy," lie replied; "and I should never dream of taking any thing upon myself in her behalf. She has defenders enough, if defenders were needed. But, on your behalf, I might he tempted to take a good deal." "On my behalf!" said Norah-and she started in spite of her consummate self-con- trol. "What need have I of a dcfend~r, or- if I needed a hundred-what right have you to assume the duties of the position?" "T have two rights," answered he. "One is your need of me; the other is my love for you "Indeed!" said Norah. She felt at her ease now. When a man began to make love, she knew exactly what to do and what to say. It was as much her native heath as Rob Roy's famous -heather was to him. "Oh, this was all !" she thought, with a curious mixture of relief and disappointment. It was a relief to find that his innuendoes with regard to Tyii- dale had only this meaning; yet there was disappointment in the quick fall from the ex- citement of combat to the blank sameness of love-making. "But that is all nonsenm, you know," she added, after a short pause. "I deny both your rights in tote! I have not the slightest need of you; in fact, I should not have an idea what to do with you if Iliad you; while that which you arc pleased to term your love for me is only a penchant for pretty faces and flirtation in general applied to a particular person." "Mock at me, if you please," said he, pal- ing, but speaking steadily. "I expected nothing else. You never give any thing else to me. All the same, the day may come when you will need me, and then I shall not ask your leave to be your defender. I have said more than I should have done, perhaps, about the man who left us a few minutes ago," he went on. "I have probably made you believe that I overheard more than I really did of your conversation. In truth, I overheard only his last speech. But this speech was not necessary to prove to me that he had spoken falsely when he said lie never met you abroad. Your face told me that last night. His face told m~ so this morning." She was looking at him intently while he spoke. When he finished she made no at- tempt at evasion. - I was feeling my way last night," she said. "I wanted to learn how much he had de- nied. It is strange that my face should have betrayed me," she added, with a dispassionate air of surprise. "It never did such a thing before." "I am sure that it did not betray you to any one besides myself," he answered. "Leslie suspects nothing. You must see that" "Yes, I see that," she assented. "But, in saying that she suspects nothing, I do not mean to imply that it might not be well for her to know something," he added, quickly. "Do you mean that you intend to inform her of what you know?" she asked, looking at him again with the peculiarly keen glance which her eyes sometimes possessed. "You cannQt seriously suspect me of such an intention," said he, almost angrily; "even if I knew any thing-which I do not." "You know enough to make mischief," said she. "There are many people who do not need to know more than that." "If you think me one of' them, it proves that you have honored me with very little attention during the pime that we have been acquaintances." "Now you are angry with me," said she, smiling; "else you would not speak of our being 'acquaintances' in such a frigid tone -that, too, after offering yourself to me as a defender in the most lavish and generous manner! Will it put you in a good-humor to say that I never fancied for a moment that you would interfere in a matter which has only accidentally come to your knowledge, and which does not concern you in the least? " "You are quite right," said he. "I shall not think of interfering, as far as Leslie is concerned; but I bind myself with no pledge that will keep me from interfering as far as you are concerned." "I think you must be mad," said she, candidly. "In the name of common-sense and common reason (if you know any thing about those things !), what have you to do with mc?" "I have already told you what I have to do ~vith you," answered lie. She leaned back, and looked at him with a laugh in her eye, which for once his glance did not return. "It is really a comfort to have one ludi- crous element in an affair which promises to be rather tiresome and troublesome on the whole," she said; "but, despite your absurd- ity, you must be aware that no claim of the kin~l holds good unless sanctioned by the per- son in whose behalf you make it." "Permit me to say that you totally misin- terpret the nature of the claim I make," an- swered he, with a face more pale and firm than any one had ever seen Carl Middleton wear be- fore. The straight lines between his brows 46 page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 A DAUGhTER OF BOHEMIA. A DISCOURAGED SUITOR. had deepened; the volatile, laughter-loving expression had left his mouth. Just then he looked like a iuan with whom not even a beau- tiful woman might care to trifle. "It is you who mistake," he said. "I have made no claim that needs your sanction. I love you- I have told you that before, have I not?- and, loving you, I hold my.life subject to your service. I shall defend you frokn in- sult, and guard you from contempt, as much as if you had extended your hand and chosen me before the world." "I believe I said, a moment ago, that I thought you were crazy," returned Norab, coldly. "Now I think that you are melo- dramatic. Of the two, I prefer the latter phase of character least." "You do not think that I am in earnest?" cried he, passionately. "You do not believe that I mean every word I utter. Ilow little your boasted knowledge of human nature has taught you, then, after all 1" "It has taught me more than you thin1~, perhaps," said she, rising to her feet. "It has taught me when to end such folly as this. Good-morning, Mr. Middleton, and allow me to hope that you will be a little more sane and reasonable when I sec you again.~~ "I shall not detain you after the manner of that cur whom I found standing between you ~nd the door," said he; "but if you will listen to me for a moment, I should like to ask if love is such a common thing with you that you can afford to throw it away like this?" "The fitful admiration and school - boy passion which you choose to dignify with the name of love, has certainly been sufficiently common in my experience," answered she, haughtily. "You are not the first man who has thought that love - making might be a pleasant variation to flirtation with a Bohe- mian like myself-nor the first who has dis- covered his mistake, let me add." "How little you know what I feel for you when you can do me such injustice!" said he, quickly. "Flirtation!" - he uttered a short laugh-" Good Heavens! As if I were mad enough to dream of flirting with you! As if I should not be the happiest man on all God'searth if you would only put your hand in mine and promise to marry me!" "And how long would you be happy?" asked she. "Not to speak of your friends, who would be scarcely likely to be happy at all." "My friends have nothing to do with me," he answered. "My life and my fortune are my own. Being my own, I ask nothing bet- ter than to dedicate them to your service." "You are very kind," said she, with the same provoking and impassive composure; "but t really have not the least use for them." "Not even the use of convenience?" asked he, a little bitterly. "Stop, Miss Des- mond, and think! It is not often that a man puts himself so unreservedly in your hands as I hav~e dQne. Say but one word, and the man who insulted you here a little while ago shall answer for it as he never dreamed of answering when lie was coward enough to de- tain you!" ~' And do you think that I need your hot blood, or your clumsy, masculine hand to espouse my cause?" asked she, with a smile of scorn rippling over her face. "Do you think I am not able to pay with interest- much more than interest, indeed-every frac- tion of debt I owe Arthur Tyndale? Do you fancy that I have come here for any other purpose than that I may pay it, in the time and in the manner that seem best to me?" "I know that you are much too clever to need any assistance from me," he said, in rather a crestfallen tone; "but there are some things that only a mt~n's hand can do- clumsy as you think it." "It requires a man's hand to take anotli- er man by the throat, I'll admit," said she. "But I have studied in the school of Machi- avelli, and that is not my mode of dealing with those who wish or intend to do me wrong." "After all, it is the best and shortest mode," said he, doggedly. "Fine words and fine actions are lost on curs." "I have not the faintest idea of bestow. ing any fine words or fine actions on any- body," said she, coolly. "You seem to have no intention of be- sto~ving any words at all on me," said he, looking at her with a certain passionate re- proach in his eyes. "Is it because you do not think me worth them? Yet, certainly, no man ever loved you better than I do, and, having offered you all that is mine to give, I ask for an answer-even though it is only likely to be a rejection." "You are right-it is only likely to be that," said she, holding out her hand to him with a sudden softening expression of her face. "But still I must thank you for hav- ing spoken as you have done - for having treated me as if I were as much your equal in all things as in blood. When a woman has lived the life I have, she learns how to appreciate courtesy and chivalry better than those who have known them from their cra- dles. Of all the many men who have loved or fancied that they loved me, you are one of the few who have had the courage to pro- nounce the word marriage. Now, although I do not intend to take advantage of your generosity, I cannot fail to like you the better for it." "And is there no hope that this liking may grow into love?" asked he, clasping eagerly in both his own the hand she had given. "If you can only say so, I-I shall be so patient to wait!" "But I am not sure that it would be right for me to say so," answered she, her eyes fastened as calmly on his face as if he had been a sexagenarian, the clear, rose-brilliance of her cheek undeepened by a shade-" I do not think it is in the least probable that I shall ever like you better than I do at pres- ent. Not but that you are more agreeable to me than the majority of men," she added, candidly. "Then promise to marry me!" said he, impetuously. "Take me as a convenience, as a means of 'establishment,' as any thing under heaven, so that you do take me, and that you like no other man better than you like me. At least, if you marry me,, you will be done with Bohemia," said he, wistfully. "You will be moderately rich, perfectly free, and passionately loved. Norah, are not these things worth a sacrifice?" "No!" answered Norah-and the clear, sharp monosyllable seemed to cut the air as Saladin's sword cleaved its way through the silken cushion-" no!" she repeated, "good as these things are, and naturally attractive to a waif and stray like myself, they are dis- tinctly not worth the sacrifice of self-respect and independence. You look surprised? I believe a woman in your world is not sup- posed to suffer any loss of self-respect when she barters herself away for a good establish- ment-but we think differently in Bohemia. I should hold that I had done you a great wrong if I married you for any one of the 4 reasons you have mentioned; and I should certainly feel that I had justified the opinion~ of all those who are good enough to consider me an adventuress!" "But if you loved me, Norah?" "If I loved you I should marry you, let; the whole world say what it would," answered she, with a smile so bright and so defiant that it thrilled him to the heart. "I do not love you, however, and I have not the least; desire to marry anybody; so you see we h e wasted a great deal of time in talking a ut; something which is not likely to eo e to~ pass. By-the-by, don't you think it is time for you to let my hand go? You are really hurting it." She took it from him before he could car- ry it to his lips, as he plainly intended to d~, adding, with a nonchalance which was not par- ticularly encouraging to a crestfallen suitor "I won't say let us try and forget what has passed, because that is all nonsense - few are able to forget disagreeable things just when they please-but I do say let us try to avoid any constraint or awkwardness. It is so inconvenient and so absurd! We like each other as well as we did before, and, after all, it is a good thing to have had a. clear explanation, and settled matters." "It may be a good thing," said he, a little doubtfully, "but it has not settled as much as you think. If I do not exactly make the boast of Philip of Spain, and say, 'Time and I against any two!' I know that time some- times works wonders for any one who loves as well as I do-and then I am your defender and champion if you had rejected me a hun- dred times!" "When will you understand that I am my own defender, and that I need no champion?" asked she, impatiently. "What folly you talk! But then you are young-something must be allowed for that, I suppose. Now, let usgo back to the house, for I see that we are likely to continue talking in a circle as long as we stay here, and really the weather is too warm for such excessive loquacity." Back to the house they went accordingly - in more amicable companionship than might perhaps be imagined, for Norah Des- mond was not ~ woman to allow a man to be ill at ease in her society. It was a point of pride with her, indeed, that she had a very effective way of dissipating any thing like constraint when she chose to do so. With page: 50[View Page 50] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. Middleton she did choose, and, before they reached the house, she had so tantalized, amused, and charmed him, that he was more hopelessly and desperately in love than ever. If she had been asked why she did this, she woidd probably have answered that she liked the pleasant young fellow in his way, and that, since it was certain that they would in- habit the same house for some time to come, it would be exceedingly disagreeable to be on stiff or formal terms with him. In truth, being a wo~nan accustomed to exercise pow- er, and fond of receiving admiration, she did not fancy the idea of surrendering the only homage which was available just then, and, consequently, she exerted herself to make Carl understand that there need be no change in their relation to each other. "You really ought to be obliged to inc for not leaving ac- cepted you," she said to him. "If Iliad, whom would youfiirt with? You would be in as bad a condition as the French- man, who asked where he should spend his evenings when advised to marry the Jady with whom he had spent them for twenty years.~~ "I have nothing of the Frenchman~in my composition," said he, "but, if it were abso- lutely necessary for mc to flirt with some- body, I might find Mrs. Sandford useful in an emergency. Leslie tails me that she will be here in a day or two," "And who is Mrs. Sandford?" "A person of note in a small way. She was a fast young lady when I left home; afterward I heard that she was a fast married woman; now she is a fast widow." "She has run the gamut, then, of fastness in all conditions of life. What a study she will be for me! I have not an idea what constitutes a fast woman on this side of the Atlantic, though I know very well what con- stitutes it on the other." The house looked cool and airy when they entered it. In the wide halt there was a pleasant green light from the closed blinds at each door, which kept out the fierce noon- day glare. Chairs and lounges were placed there; books, newspapers, and work, were scattered about-every thing showed that it was a favorite and informal gathering-place of the family. Mrs. Middleton, who was seated alone, looked up as they entered. "Did you not find it very warm?" she asked. "Leslie reported the heat to be in- tense, and Mr. Tyndale seemed almost over- powered by it. I was opposed to his walking back to Strafford; but he insisted upor~ going -young people are always so obstinate Z" "So Tyndale went back, did he?" said Cail. "If the heat was so overpowering, I wonder he walked over simply for the sake of spending hall an hour or so with Leslie." "He came as an act of courtesy to Miss Desmond, I think," answered Mrs Middleton, in her stately way. "Otherwise, he would have been kept at home by a business en- gagement all the morning, he said. Tie has promised to dine with us this evening, how- ever-and his cousin," she added, turning to Norah; "so you will be able to see more of him." Miss Desmond bowed with the air of one profoundly grateful for such a privilege. "Is the cousin at all like Mr. Tyndale?" she asked, by way of a diversion that would not be too far away from the subject to excite attention. "Not in the least," answered Leslie's gay voice behind her. "Fancy Arthur's opposite in every thing-that is Captain Tyndale!" "You don't like him, then, I suppose?" said tjarh "And pray, why should that follow?" asked she. "If he is the exact opposite of your Prince Charming, I don't see how you could con- veniently manage to like both of them." "There are things which 'differ, in order to correspond,' Mr. Philosopher," said she, smiling. "Want of similarity is not always want of harmony. I should be very ungrate- ful if I did not like Captain Tyndale, for he certainly is very fond of Arthur." "Did you not say that he is half a French- man?" asked Miss Desmond. "How does that happen?" "His father was attached to the American legation in Paris," said Mrs. Middleton, who had one of those memories of the old school, that never forget a genealogical point. "He married a Frenchwoman, and, after that, lived principally in France. So it came to pass that Captain Tyndale is half French in blood, and almost wholly French in training." "I suppose he cannot be reasonably blamed for either %hct," said Carl; "but really it is very hard on the poor fellow! Why couldn't his father have stayed at home, or else gone to Germany?" page: Illustration-51[View Page Illustration-51] ARTIItTR'S ELAN OF DECEPTION. "I am afraid we shall have another France- Prussian War when Captain Tyndale and your- self meet," sai~d Leslie. "Come, Norab, luncheon is ready-after that we will take our siesta; and, after that, you shall make yourself as lovely as possible for dinner." -4--- CUAI'TER IX. "Said I not so? 0 my prophetic heart! He has not betrayed me-he could not betray me. I never doubted it." WuEN that obstinate young man, Arthur Tyndale, reached Strafl'ord, after a ve~y warm and exceedingly disagreeable walk, he found his cousin established in the shady library, with a novel and a cigar. "Confound the fellow, how comfortable he looks 1', was the first thought of the over-heated pedestrian, as he enteredd this cool retreat-green shade rustling without the open windows, mellow depths of oak wainscot and book-lined walls within-and observed, with a sense of ex- asperation, the air of repose which pervaded every line of the figure extended at full length on a couch at the farther end of the room. "You are back rather soon," said Max, looking up lazily. "Didn't you find it very warm?" "Warm!" repeated Arthur, in a tone of impatience. He flung himself into a chair, and pushed back the rings of' damp hair that clung moistly to his brow. "Go out int6 the sun and try it a little, won't you? I think you'll be snore likely to call it infernally hot!" "I thought you would be apt to find it so," said Max, philosophically. "Order some iced sherbet, my dear fellow. It is the most refreshing thing you can--" "Deuce take refreshment!" interrupted the other, irritably. "I haven't time to think about iced sherbet just now. Max, you can't imagine what cursed ill-luck I have had this morning!" "Indeed!,' said Max. He raised himself on his elbow, with a quick look of interest in his dark eyes. "How was it?" he asked. "Does Miss Grahame khow or suspect any thing?" "Not the least thing, as yet; but there is no tellixig how soon she may know every thing. Norah opened the ball, last night, with a vengeance, by informing the assembled family that she had met me abroad." "The devil!" "Or, if not me-it seems she did not stand to that point-sonse one bearing the name of Tyndale." "Well, that's rather more vsgue.~~ "So they have decided-Mrs. Middleton and Leslie-that it must have been you." "Mel "Mid Captain Tyndale. He opened his eyes still wider for a moment, ~sen burst into a laugh. "Pas-bteu, but that is a good joke! What did you tell them?" "I told Leslie, at first, that it was absurd; hut, when Mrs. Middleton spoke of it, I thought I would le&ve the matter for you to contradict. After all, I am not supposed to be aware of all the women Whom you may have met in your life." "That is very true; but still you know that I have never met Miss Desmond" "Yes, I know it; but there is no earthly reason why you should not have met her; and -and, if you had, it would make matters a good deal easier for me." "Granted, with all my heart; but the fact remains the same, that I have not had that pleasure." "But, hang It, Max! it would do no harm to let them think so-for a little time, you know." "Let them think so!" repeated Max. He shot a keen glance at lAis companion. "Do you mean that I should tell a downright lie?" he asked. "I don't know how else I could 'let them think so.' And it would not only be a lie, as far as I am concerned, but a most unwas-rantable liberty, as far as Miss Desmond is concerned." "I am not asking you to tell any thing at all," answered Arthur, impatiently. "Con- found it, you are amazingly straitlaced all at once! Can't you see that all I ask you to do is to let the thing pass, and not to deny that you were the man whom Miss Desmond met abroad?" "Bitt don't you see that, if I were inclined to oblige you a hundred times, it would do no good? Miss Desmond herself can certainly tell sokom she met abroad, and she is not like- ly to mistake my mahogany face for your red and white one?' "Of course, the whole thing hangs on her; but, if she allows it to be tacitly accepted that you were the man-and, somehow, I 51 page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] TIlE CAPTAIN'S OPINION. 53 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. have an idea that she may-all I ask of you is, that you will take the advantage thus af- forded you to do me another and still greater favor." "So there's another, is there?" said Max. Tie rose as he spoke, and walked across the floor~ "See here, Hal," he said, stopping after a while, "this will not do! You know pei'.fectly well that, in any thing which is open and fair, I would serve you heartily; but I cannot consent to take either a passive or an active part in such a gross deception as that which you are practisiag on a woman w1io deserves better things at your hands I" "Am I asking you to take any part in it?" demanded Arthur, angrily, but conscious that he could not afford, just then to quarrel with Max. "This deception, as you call it, is a thing which I detest as much as you do; but it is also a thing in which I became entangled without my 'knowledge, and from which I must free myself as best I can. All that I ask from you is your assistance in doing this. If you refuse it, well and good: I can get along without you, no doubt. But don't make a pretext of refusing it on Leslie's account, for the best way to serve her would be to end all question of deception at once." "What is it you want me to do?" ask~d the other, reluctantly. "I don't promise that I will do it, mind you! but still there's no harm in hearing what it is!" "It is simply this: to find out from Norah what she menus to do-whether she intends to hold her tongue or to make mischief-and, if possible, to obtain my letters from her." "Great Heaven 1" said Max, aghast. "Are you mad? How on earth could I ap- proach a woman, of whom I know nothing, with such demands as those?" "Simply by understanding, in the first place, that any thing like chivalrous delicacy would be quite out of place with such a wom- an as Nor~h Desmond," said Arthur, with a bitter sneci'. "And, in the second place, by going about the business like a diplomatist, and not with point-blank 'demands."' "I have been bred in camps, and not in drawing-rooms," returned Max, dryly. "If you want diplomacy, I am afraid you must go elsewhere for it." "I only propose such a plan," -said the other, with fresh irritation, "because you are not fettered as I am-nobody will think it remarkable if you walk or talk with Norah -while I could ~nly see her by stealth if I saw her at all; for, besides the Middletons, who look on me with any thing but eyes of love, there's a young sprig of a nephew there who is head over ears in love with her, and already suspicious of me." "How have you managed to find that out?" "Easily enough-as you shall hear." Then he told the story of the scene in the summer-house-of his own discomfiture when he attempted to sound Miss Desmond, and of Carl's inopportune appearance just when he could not have failed to overhear that last significant appeaL It need not be imagined, however, that, in relating these occurrences, Mr. Tyndale was of necessity obliged to give them exactly the coloring of reality. He was too much a man of the world to represent himself in a contemptible or badly-worsted light; and, although he gave Max a sub- stantially correct outline of what had taken place, he was careful to say nothing of his own blunders or of Norah's scorn. On her passionate defiance, however, he dwelt em- phatically. "She absolutely went so far as to threaten rue with immediate exposure if I spoke to her again," he said. "So, you see, my only hope is in you." "And she gave you no hint as to what she meant ro do?" "Not the least. Now, you know this un- certainty-this soi~t of sword - of- Damocles business-is more than a man can be ex- pected to endure. As far as I personally am concerned, I should not mind it in the least. I should simply let Miss Desmond do or say her worst. I am not the first man who has flirted with a fast coquette. But there is Leslie. It would be hard on ker." "Yes," said Max. He turned on his heel and walked to the window as he spoke. Standing there, looking out over the green landscape and the bosky depths of summer shade, his mind went back to the May even- ing when he had loitered by Leslie's side among the roses, and when she had spoken with almost wistful sadness of her great hap- piness. He had seen then that this happi- ness, whether for good or ill, was irrevocably bound up in Arthur Tyndale, and, with this knowledge, had come the resolution that Ar- thur should "keep straight," if he had any power to make him do so. ' It was too late to think of his worthiness or unworthiness for the great gift that had fallen into his life.- too late to ask whether that loyal and tender heart might not have been better bestowed- what was done was done with such distinct completeness that Max plainly perceived that any event which proved his cousin unworthy would stab Leslie's life all the more deeply for Leslie's pride. Feeling this by an in- stinct which is not often given to men, and feeling, also, with the sort of despair common to us all, that she must take things (and peo- pie) as they are, witho~it hoping or expect- ing to make them what they should be, he recognized that his best way of serving Leslie was to help Arthur as far as possible out of Miss Desmond's net. 'Of Miss Desmond her- self, it may be said, in passing, that he had the lowest possible opinion. A woman who was a celebrity at Baden and Homburg, who had an adventurer for a father, and who was plainly determined to make Arthur pay a heavy price for freedom from entanglement, offended every one of his most cherished ideas and opinions. If he had consulted his own taste, he would have preferred to have nothing to do with her; but, since that was impossible, he made up his mind to further his cousin's cause with as much earnest ef- fort as he could exert. So it came to pass that Arthur-still lean- ing back in the depths of his chair, and con- templating a bust of Dante with a frown of petulant discontent and ill-humor-was rath- er surprised when the tall figure at the win- dow turned with its quick, military swing, and Max's voice said: "Don't think me churlish for having taken some time to consider matters, Hal. I doubt if I shall be a very valuable auxiliary, but, nevertheless, I'll do my best for you as far as I can!" "I was sure you'd never leave me to get out of the scrape by myself, old fellow," an- swered Arthur, gratefully. And in those few words the compact was made and the matter ended. Six or seven hours later-the heat of the day being over, and the long, cool shadows of late evening lying over green turf and dusty, sun-baked road-the two cousins drove up to the door of Rosland in Mr. Tyndale's dog-cart. The disk of the sun was just touch- ing the horizon when they entered the' draw- ing room, and his level rays were pouring through the western windows in a stream of light which made so dazzling an illumination that, for a few seconds, the young men were absolutely unable to tell who was before them. The transcendent glory was short. lived, however. Even while they hesitated, the great orb sank, and they saw that three ladies and two gentlemen made up the group gathered in the centre of the large apartment. Greetings having been exchanged, and Cap- tain Tyndale having been presented to Miss Desmond, such commonplaces as people in the country usually talk, ensued. "Found it very dusty, didn't you?" said Mr. Middleton to Arthur., "I never knew rain needed Worse than it is just now." ~ Every thing is so dreadfully parched ~ said Mrs. Middleton, in a confiding aside to Max. "It really makes one sad to go into the garden. Don't you feel as sorry for flow- ers, when they droop, as for people, when they are sick? I always do." "The Andersons, who were here this morning, report the drought still worse with them," said Leslie. "They say their garden is literally burned up. By-the-by, Arthur, Lizzie Anderson is to marry Frank Tabor, after all. Are you not surprised to hear it? She rejected him half a dozen' times, people said. Fancy accepting a man; at last, whom you had rejected half a dozen times!" "There is always luck in odd numbers, you know," said Tyndale, with a smile of 'tolerably well simulated interest, "and seven is an odd number, if my arithmetic serves me." "There is encouragement for me I" said Carl, in a discreet aside to Norah. "If Frank Tabor-whom I remember as a black-eyed young rascal at school-persevered after six rejections, I certainly should not despair, after one! But imagine, if you can, the moral pluck, or the mental despair, of a man who could screw his courage to the sticking- point of a seventh proposal!" * "It proves that he was exceedingly fool- ish, as well as rather obstinate," said Norab -and, as a lull had just then fallen in the general conversation, her words were audible to all the group. "No woman in the world is worth half so much trouble! I never see a man desperately bent upon such a chase that I.do not feel inclined to remind him of the fact that there is any number of other wom- en in the world, multitudes of whom are pret- page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. NORAR'S SURPRISE AND INDIGNATION. 56 tier, and cleverer, and more desirable in every way, than the one of whom he is so madly "But what are other women to a man who loves one?" asked I~esJie. "And, then, con- etanoy, Norab-suvely you admire constancy even when it is misplaced?" "I au~ not at all sure that I do," answered Nomh. "~ inn inclined to think that con- stancy, in such caseesnnply means weal~ncsa and want of self-respect. A spaniel is eon- stant to the hand that repulses bun, but we don't exactly admire. the trait: and I have ltixown many women, and some men, who were spaniels. After all," pursued she, "why should we emit constancy intQ such a virtue? It certainly is not according to the law of Na- ture. In Nature, all things change. Nonnan's body is the same at twenty-live and forty-.- neither is any man's character. Therefore, why should we expect his heart alone to he unchanged?" "I had no idea that y~n were such a here- tic I" said Leslie, laughing but she felt, in the silence SrQW1d, that the careless, ~lellant words had shocked most of the audience~ "You. forget one thing," she, added, after a moment; "if constancy is not according to the law of Na.turc~-wbkh I freely grant-At is because it is o~ovc Nature,. as many other virtues are. I ant sure you will not deny that." "It would require a person more fond of theory and argument than I am to deny you sny thing," said Norab. "Per peace' sake, and to be obliging, I would surrender the utoat cherished ~pinioatbat I have. Apropos, I saw, not long ago, a definition of an agree!. Jile person, which rather struck me. 'He was very am.laliln in temper,' it said, ~and had no strong opinlens."' "I would not give a fig f~r a zuan who had no strong opinionn,~' saId Mr. Mlddleton. "Re might as well. be without a "Oh, a man, of course~ should have them l'~ said Norab, "But a woman, you see, is dif- ferent,. Opiniena only make us disagreeable, We should he, as nearly as possible, graceful, receptive nonentIties, blindly adoring the nia~. eulino intellect,. sn& ready' t~ believe, on an emergency,, that the meon. in made of green "I assure yea that yen quite mistake my meaning," said Mr. MiddJQtQn, gravely. But, since dinner was anneuneed just then, his apology was brought to an end, together .with the young philosopher's somewhat cyni- cal satire. As they left the drawing-room,, Captain Tyndale thought that Miss Desmond was quite as disagreeable as he had expected to find her. In fact, during these few mimi- utes, she had shown her character in even a worse light than he had anticipated. Her tone of mingled levity and skeptivism.-with a certain bright, bard cleverness showing through-jarred on and disgusted hIm more than the most free and easy "fastness" c~uld have done. "Arthur is right; she is a Belie. mian adventuress," be thought, "more out- spoken than the most of her class, but with nothing of a true woman in her." Like a great many other people, Captain Tyndalc for- got to ask himself by what authentic standard he had measured his ideal "true woman;" or whether, after all, his abstract idea of what the sex should be~ in general, was quite a fair rule for judging Miss Desmond in particular. He could not but acknowledge, however, that her beauty was something extraordinary, as, he sat opposite her at dinner, and studied the perfect face, line by line, and feature by feature. Even with her beauty, however, he found fault. It was too brilliant for his taste. He agreed with Mrs. Middleton that a thor- ough-bred woman should never make a "sen- sation;" and it was undeniable that Norah Desniond could riot have walked through the quietest village in. Christendom without draw- ing eager glances of admiration to herself. Looking from her to Leslie, be thought how much more of attraction there was in the delicate face of the latter, with its silken soft brown hair, and loveliness which rather lay In light than color;" and it chanced that, while he was so thinking, Leslie turned and spoke to him. "I have been telling Norab, Captain Tytr~ dale, that I am sure she must have known you abroad. She thinks that she remembers having met some one named Tyndale at Ba- den or Homburg; and, since it, was not Ar- tkur~ I think it must have been yourself. Tell me, am I not right? Have you not seen her before?" "What a horribly direct question I" Ar- thur tho~e~ht, consoleus that. his complexion was changing color just, then in its meet try- ing wanner. "1 will never venture to answer it in the affirmative. Why on earth should Leslie bring up the subject just now I Confound all women and their toagnes, I say I" But Max, meanwhile-with no change of color on his weather-beaten visage-had cool. ly lifted his eyes and met Miss Desmond's glance. There was a defiance in it which he was sufficiently quick to read artght. "Take your cousin's identity upon yourself, i1 you dare !"it said to him; and he smiled a little as he answered: "It is probable enough that Miss Des.' mend does not remember me; but I have certainly had the pleasure of seeing her be- fore." It amused him a little, as he uttered these words, to observe that, instead of any thing like surprise, an expression of scarcely-veiled contempt came over Norab's face. "You have spoken falsely!" her eyes said to him, but her lips onhy parted in the smile of scorn peculiar to them. "Captain Tyndale's memory is so much better than my own that I do not like to run the risk of telling him that he is mistaken," she said, very coldly; and Arthur gave a sigh of relief as he saw that she did not mean to make a "scene." "But I suppose that I may at least iie per~nitted to say that I have not the faintest recollection of himself or his face." "My face is not an uncommon one," said Max, carelessly. "It has its disadvantages, especially in the fact of looking like a mill- ion or two other faces; but, then, it has its advantages, also, some of which are very sol- id ones. If I wanted to escape from a detec- tive or a woman,, for instance, how much bet- ter my chance would be than Arthur's here!" "Yes, if Norali had seen Arthur, she cer- tainly could not have forgotten him," said Leslie, innocently. "You are mistaken about one thing, how- ever," said Norab, looking at Max. "A wom- an's eyes, when sharpened by love or hate, pierce through alL disguises; and, although your face is in general like a good many other ihees, especially fains in France, it has a great deal of individuality besides." "Thanks," said he, quietly. "I am glad to hear that it has individuality, even though it lessens somewhat my problematical chance of escape if I should ever kill a man or be- tray a woman." "If you intend to do one or the other," said ~he~"take my advice, and kill a man. It is the safer experiment of the two." The dilating glow of her ey~s, as she ut- tered the last words, was eert~rinly superb; but it was also full of unpleasant significance to one person at least. Arthur Tyndale in. voluntarily lifted his glass of wine to his lips and drained it. He felt that he stood in need of support, and this was the most convenient form in which it presented itself to him. "What does she mean to do?" he thought. The devil seems to possess her! I hare half a mind to make a clean breast of it all to Leslie, and so block her game." But that such a resolution nas utterly impracticable, Mr. Tyndale wus thoroughly conscious, even while he gave mental utterance to it He was at Miss Desmond~s mercy. He felt that fact to the bottom of his boots-felt it with a responding sense that even the mellow glow of the wine he had so liberally quaffed could not dispel. Just then, to his great relief, Carl Middle. ton changed the dangerous course of conver- sation. Instinct warned him to do this im. mediately after Norali's last speech, and he plunged at once into the first convenient~ sub- I jeet, which chanced to be the existing state of government in Franca "By-the-way, what do you think of M. Thiers?" he asked Max, with a degree of relevance that was rather startling. "How long do you think he will be able to hold his own over there in Paris?" "Probably till the Prussians are safely oil' the soil 6f France," answered the other, who rarely betrayed surprise, however much he might feel it. "And who do you think will be most likely to succeed him-to profit by the pres- sent state of affairs, you know?" proceeded Carl, in a aispassionate tone of inquiry. Max shrugged his shoulders with a rath- er amused expretsionof face. "How can I tell?" he said. "I am no prophet. Per- haps there are no better words in which to answer you than those which have lately fall- en from royal lips 'La parole est7el in France "I remember that sentence," said Carl. "I was struck by its epigrammatic force when I saw it first. Poetically it does very well indeed." "Young Germany, you see, quite excludes page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 A DAUGHTER the idea of God (save in poetry) from the af- fairs of nations," said Leslie. "Mr. Middleton is one of the people who only believe in the existence of their own senses," said Norah; "and1 since metaphys- ics have proved conclusively to him that he has no senses, he is in rather a bad condition -that is, theoretically. Practically, he sup. jorts the inconvenience of being a blank ne- gation verjv well indeed." "He certainly does not look at all like one," said'Mr. Middleton, senior, dryly. In this manner, although Carl's zeal drew the conversation upon himself, it accom- plished what he desired in the way of effect- ing a diversion. Ranging here and there- through fields political; literary, and social- the stream of talk did not again approach the dangerous question of what Tyndale Miss Des- mond had known abroad. Only when the ladies were alone in the drawing-room did Leslie recur to the sub- ject. "You see I was right, Norah I" she said, triumphantly. "It was Captain Tyndale, af- t~r all, whom you knew abroad." "You are so often right that I should not think it would be a very novel sensation to you," said Miss Desmond, smiling. "Now, as for me, I am so often wrong, that I really feel scarcely inclined to trust my own judgment on any point whatever. Perhaps I ought to add my memory also, for Icertainly have not the faintest recollection of Captain Tyndale's face. Yet I don't think it is as much like every other man's as he fancies. If you had not told me that he belonged t~o the French army, I should have known it. There is some- thing strikingly suggestive of the Chasseur d'Afrique in his appearance." "I hope you mean to like him. He is worth liking, we think." "Do you!' But why not say 'Ithink?' Surely you do not think, as the army of Flan- ders reasoned, in platoons?" "Not by any means. But the opinion of many is worth more than the opinion of one, is it not P "That depends so much upon who are the many and who is the one, that I don't feel equal to giving a general opinion." "You are a perfect Talleyrand in petti- coats," said Leslie, laughing. "One would certainly imagine that you believed words to have been invented for tl~ purpose ~f con- OF BOHEMIA. ceiling thoughts. But you must learn to like Captain Tyndale. He is a special favorite of mine.~~ "And an old acquaintaicc of mine-pray don't forget that." There was such a gleam of mockery in her eyes as she uttered the last words, that Les- lie said, quickly: "I believe that you half suspect Captain Tyndale of having claimed your acquaintance without any right to do so. Now, if you knew him at all, you would know that he is incapable of taking such a liberty-a liberty which would be a gross presumption 1" she added, indignantly. "You are right," said Norah, quietly. "It would certainly be 'a gross presump- tion.' " "Not by men like Max Tyndale, I am sure." "Hm-I am not sure. Are you acquainted with any man irho carries his character on his face for women to read? Not that I se- riously impugn the veracity of your mirror of truth and honesty. It is a law of logic that a crime presupposes a motive for the crime, is it not? Well, I am not an impor- tant person, nor a particularly agreeable per- son; therefore, it stands to reason that Cap. tam Tyndale could have had no interested motive in claiming my acquaintance." "Yet I thought you allowed the claim very coldly." "Did I? Set the fact down, then, to sur- prise. I had not an idea that the man wQuld venture to say 'Yes' to your question." "Was there any reason why he should not have ventured to say it if he had really known you?" asked Leslie, looking keenly into the beautiful, unruffled face. "None at all," answered Miss Desmond, indifferently. They had been standing by an open win- dow while they talked-one, of those which overlooked the veranda-and, as she uttered those last words, Norah stepped through and stood for a minute outside. "I think I shall go in search of our Mario of last night," she said, half turning to Les- lie. "Don't come !-Mr. Tyndale will be in before long, and you look so lovely where you are I You may send the cousin - the old acquaintance of mine-after me, if you choose. Of course, we shall naturally have a great deal to say to each other." CHAPTER X. "The weakest woman is pitiless to weakness in a man, and the gentlest of a gentle sex has no miti- gation of scorn for the man that has betrayed the gentlest quality of her nature-implicit trust. "There is no pardon for desecrated ideals." THE soft summer twilight was exquisitely mingled with the faint lustre of a new moon -a pretty, baby crescent hanging in the still, tinted sky-when Norah strolled across the lawn toward the rose-hedge, where the mock- ing-bird had piped so sweet a lay the evening before. But mocking-birds can be fickle as well as men. From the leafy depths came no delicious trill or full-throated note to-night. Save for a few irrepressible katydids, all was stillness and silence in this part of the ground's. The fresh fragrance of grass and flowers, the great oaks, with their brown trunks and mighty depths of shade, the state- ly magnolias, and tropical shrubs, all seemed full of that supreme magic of repose which dwells in midsummer gloaming. Athwart the grass, and against the hedges, fire-flies were beginning to gleam in* their fitful way; but other sign of life there was none. Perhaps the dewy freshness, the perfect quiet, the shadowy loveliness of the scene, served Miss Desmond's purpose as well as the mocking- bird could have done. At all events, she did not retrace her steps toward the house; but, finding a convenient garden-chair, she sat down, looking like a fair dream-lady, outlined by the dark shrubbery behind. In this place and attitude Max Tyndale found her when he crossed the lawn and en- tered the shrubbery ten minutes later, having been sent by Miss Grahame in search of the wanderer, somewhat to his own discomfiture, and greatly to Carl's disgust. "flow well s~ie has arranged herself for effect I" was his first thought. "What an actress she is!" T~ien, pausing, he lifted his hat. "I have the honor to obey your summons, Miss Desmond," he said, coldly. "You arc very kind," answered Miss Des. mond, more coldly still. She did not rise, but only looked at him, with a certain proud steadfastness, as he stood before her, erect and tall, in the soft dusk. "You are ver; kind," she repeated, after a second's pausd~; "but I am sure you are aware that I should not have troubled you with any 'summons' if I had not desired to learn what end your MAX TYNDALE'$ EXPLANATION. 57 cousin or yourself hope to serve by the ac- quaintance which you did me the honor to claim at dinner?" The challenge came more quickly and more peremptorily than he had expected. Despite his large fund of imperturbable cool- ness, Max felt the blood rushing warmly to his face. After all, it wa.s an awkward posi- tion; and, Bohemian though she might be, the girl looked just then like an archduchess. Somewhat to his own surprise, he found him- self a little confused in his reply. "If you will allow me to explain," he said, "I do not think that you will find that Ar- that any one beside m-yself is accountable for the act of presumption of which I acknowl- edge that I was guilty at dinner." "I have found that men are rarely guilty, even of an act of presumption, without some motive for it," said she, haughtily. "Yours is not difficult to find. Your cousin was in an awkward position, and you were kind enough to rescue him at the slight expense of truth. I am not so dull but that I can read clearly enough that far. What puzzles me is to im- agine what good end he proposes to serve by such a stratagem. Does he think that, if I choose to open my lips, he will be likely to gain any thing by the desperate policy of de. nying that he ever knew me? If so, he must be prepared to deny also the evidence of his own letters. Or perhaps you, sir, will affirm that you were also the Tyndale who wrote those?" "I shall certainly not affirm any thing which is untrue, mademoiselle," answered Max. "And you must pardon me if I repeat that you are entirely wrong in supposing that I claimed your acquaintance falsely, in order to serve any interest that 'my cousin may have." "With or without an interest, the fact re- mains that you spoke falsely!" said she, im- periously. "You cannot deny it." "Pardon me again; but I must have ex- pressed myself very badly, or you must have understood me very ill, if you have not yet comprehended that I do deny it most omphat- ically." "You deny it--to mc!" Great as was her natural fluency and command of language, her power of expression seemed for a moment to go no further than that. "You are play- ing a bolder game than I thought, monsieur," she said, then, contemptuously. "You will page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] A HOPELESS EMISSION 68 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN~ tell me, next, that we arc indeed old acquaint- ances - that I have danced with you at Baden, and flirted at Homburg.. Grdce d .Dieu I I should have remembered that de- nial is, after all, only a matter of words; and how little words count with any of your sex, I learned long ago." "Mademoiselle," said Max, who began to feel as if it were within the range of possible events that he might lose his temper, "I re- peat, again, that you are charging me with falseliood iu the most causeless and unpro. yoked manner. I have no connection what. ever with my cousin's affairs; and, in saying at dinner that I had seen you abroad, I said nothing more than was strictly true." "In that case," said she, throwing back her head with an air of defiance, "you can certainly tell when and where you met me, and how it is that such a fact should have es. eaped my memory altogethei-." "It is not remarkable that your memory should not bear testimony to a fact which never had a place in it," he said, coolly. "If you will dome the justice to remember, I did not. venture to say at dinner that I had Arnown you abroad, but simply that I had ~reerz you. This was perfectly true. I saw you, two years ago, at the opera, in Paris." Even through the twilight - momently growing deeper-he caught the scornful and incredulous curl of her lip.. "I congratulate you on your inventive powers, monsieur," she said. "Such a very definite place and date certainly put your as- sertion beyond all dispute." "You may believe me or not, as you choose," answered he, beginning to grew a little haughty in turn; "but I speak on my honor as a gentleman when I say that £ re- membered your face the moment I saw it in the drawing-room before dinner. Up te that time, I had not entertained the faintest idea that I had er-cr seen you; but the instant the sun sank-you remember how it dar.ziedour eyes ?-.-I said to myself 'Here is the face I ~aw at the opera, in Ptris, two years ago 1"' "What lucky coincidences there are in this world!" said she, dryly. "How foittu.' nate that, you should, have made this discov- ery just when it would benefit your cousin s~ much I" "I see that you doubt me still," lie said. 4~As far as I am. concerned, that Is net a. matter Qf any importance; lint,, for .&rthu~"s sake, I should like you to believe that I am speaking the truth. It is not likely that you remember one special night in June two years ago; hut I do-partly because of other events, partly because one does not often see such a face as yours. I remember the pee- plc who were with you, and, if necessary, I could tell even' the color of the dresa you wore." She looked at him quickly and keenly; baffled, however~ by the growing obscurity which veiled his face as it veiled the trees and shrubs aud distant uplands. "If this is true," she said, at last, "Ibeg your pardon. instead of accusing you of falsehood, it seems that £ should only have accused you of equivocation, which is as bad l" "To that charge I must plead guilty," answered he. "But two things teml)ted me: one was to assist Arthur; the other (if yan will pardon me), to mystify you." "Mystify me, you did not," said she, cold- ly. "-You only made me believe that you were assisting your cousin at the expense of your own honor~-ifindeeda man ever counts his honor forfeited by a lie.?' "I am afraid your experience among men bus been very unfortunate." "It has been very extensive, at least." "There are many classes of men, how. ever." "I have known many of all classes-your cousin among the rest."' "Will you glyc me leave to inquire," said he, abruptly, "how it is that you take it so entirely for granted that I am aware of Ar- thur's connection with yourself?" She laughed slightly-the faint cadence, though with little of mirth in it, ringing out sweetly etiougir on the still, evening air. "I learned to read faces early," she an. twered. "It cost me no effort to road in your face, the m~men11 your eyes fell on me: 'So this is theBohemian girl over whom Ar- thur once made &fool of himself l'" "I must endeavor to keep ray face in bet- ter order," said he, smiling a little.' "You are right, however.. I have heard Arthur's story, and,, without seeking to excuse his fault, I should like to ask whether the woin~ an whom he once loved can find no leniency for him in her heart?" "Has ho requcated you~ to ask such a question?" demanded she. "If se, you may tell him that, in a woman's eyes-I speak of women who are not spaniels-nothing can ex- cuse falsity and cowardice." "You speak strongly, mademoiselle." "I might speak more strongly if I added s1~rnder to falsity and cowardice." "In doing so I am sure that you would wng him deeply." "Are you? Be good enough to tell me, en, in what manner and what character he Ii a spoken of me to you." "As a woman to whom he was once deep. ly attached," answered Max, thankful for this lo p-hole of evasion, and full of devout hope t at she might not press her ~wkws.rd ques. ti n any further. But, in indulging 'such a h pe, he certainly di~l not know any thing of N rah Desmond.. "Y6u spoke a moment ago of your honor as a gentleman," said she. "If you realty possess any thing so foreign to my experi~ e~cc of the Tyndale name, I beg that you will te~l me whether or not your cousin has spoken of' me as a woman worthy of faith and re- spect, or as a fast flirt, with whom men only Desmond, is it fair-..." make you testify against the man yqu call your friend?" interrupted she. "Per. h4pa not. I will spare you an answer, there.. fore, especially since your hesitation auth- ciently answers me. And yet, you wonder that I have no inclination to spare such a man!" she added, with a ring of vibrating contempt in her voice. "You wonder that I -the woman he once professed to love, the woman to whom he was solemnly engaged, the woman whom he not only deserted and betrayed, but whom he has slandered and d~famed-should think him a coward and a dt~stard!" "Still, if you could apprecinte his anxiety -4f you could know how much he desires some assurance of what you mean to do-.-." "That assurance he will not obtain, either in his own person or through his agents," said she, decidedly. "Let him understand this once for all." "lie has empowered me to say for him that he is willing to make any concession, any arrangement-" "Spare your diplomacy, Captain Tyadale," sh~ interrupted, more coldly and haughtily than ever. "What. possible concession does Arthur Tyndale imagine' that I require at his I hands? In my own time, I will name my own terms, and, whatever they are, you may be sure that be will accede to them." The tone of confident power which filled the last words, and the glance which accom- panied them, told Max, more plainly than many assurances could have done, the hope. lessness of his mission. "I see, indeed, that I waste time and ef- fort," said he. ~A But I had hoped that, for your sister's sake, at least-" "For my sister's sake I should certainly he inclined to sacrifice a great deal," said she, quietly, as he paused. "We have known each other' so long and so well, have been so closely associated together and grown in sisterly affection as we grew in years, that you are right to calculate upon such a bond.. Your cousin, too, may safely shelter himself behind it.." Now, it must not be supposed that there was any vulgar banter in this speech. Save for the faintest possible accent of mockery- an accent so natural to her that her voice was scarcely ever free from it-Max might have supposed that she was speaking in per- fect seriousness and good faith. As it wa~, he felt a little puzzled how to answer her, and his thoughts left Arthur and Leslie for a moment to consider how thoroughly disa- greeable this woman was. lie made a men- tat comparison of her changing moods, her passion, her mockery, her cynicism, with Miss Grahame's graceful and gracious sweet- ness. "0ood Heavens, to think that such wom- en should he even l~alf-sisters 1" he thought. Just then he felt more inclined to excuse Arthur than he had even felt before. Miss Desmond, with a quickness of per- ception which often startled people into a belief that she had some dealing with the black art, answered these thoughts as if ho had spoken them aloud. "You feel more inclined to pity than to blame your cousin just now, do you not?" she said. "You think that such a woman as I am is hardly worth keeping faithwith, after a112" "Have I hinted such a thing for a mo. ment, Miss Desmond?" askedhequiteiadig. nantly~ "You have not hinted it, but you have thought it." "Pardon me, I have done nothing of the page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. NORAH ON HER BEST BEHAVIOR 61 kind. On the contrary, I think there is no justification whatever for Arthur's conduct." "And yet you make yourself his agent and advocate!" "Not exactly the first, nor at all the last," answered he "It is simply as his friend that I have endeavored - though very un- availingly-to serve his cause." "It is a poor cause, and scarcely worth being served," said she. "As for your fail- ure, it would be strange if you had not failed. Your cousin has every thing to fear from me, while I have absolutely nothing to fear from him." "I begin to appreciate that," said Max, a little grimly. "I have nothing to gain from him, and nothing to lose by him," she repeated, after a minute. "Therefore he-who professes to know the world so well-can judge whether or not he is wise in appealing tome." "But it is impossible that you can refuse absolutely to give him a clew to your inten- tions in a matter that concerns him so vital. ly I "said Max, beginning to perceive that this woman was indeed a very cool and subtle adversary. "I refuse absolutely," she answered. "It seems that I must repeat this very often. Are you so accustomed to finding women like wax in your hands, that you cannot under- stand a woman's resolution when you meet it?" "I beg your pardon," replied he, hastily. "I should not have forced you to repeat what you have already said." "And now I believe that we have finished all that we have to say," she went on, rising and gathering up her light dress from the dewy grass. "In going back to the drawing- room, you must not forget that you have the part of an 'old acquaintance' to play. It is one of the disadvantages of equivocation that it generally places you in a false position even when you have adhered to the rigid letter of the truth." But the3f found, when they emerged from the shrubbery, that it was not necessary to return to the drawing-room. Even across the lawn, it was evident that the rest of the party were assembled on the veranda, whence their light tones and laughter floated out on the still night-air. As the two ab- sentees approached, they heard Carl hum- ming one of Miss Desmond's songs, from which he managed to extract all the melody, while Leslie's voice said: * "Norah and Captain Tyndale must have discovered that they possess a great many reminiscences in common to tempt them to extend their walk so far and their talk so long. I am selfish enough to wish they would come back; I want Arthur to hear No. rah sing." "Here I am, Leslie!" said Norab, ad. dancing out of the shadowy darkness, "but I am afraid you must excuse me from singing to.night. I am like our friend the mocking- bird-out of sorts and out of voice, though not, like him, absent in body as well as in mind." "Was he absent? Did you not find him, after all? I am sorry." "So was I-really disgusted! But, like most great singers, he is capricious, and Mr. Middleton offended him by talking, all through jhis most beautiful song last night." "I object to being held accountable for the caprices of the mocking-bird," said Carl's voice from out the demi-obseure in which it was scarcely possible to tell who was who. "But there are half a hundred singing in the copse at the back of the house, Miss Des. mond, if you care to hear them." "One in the rose-hedge would have been better," said Norah' "It is a very disagree- able trait in human nature that we do not care for any thing which we can have in abundance and with little trouble." "I never knew a woman who contradicted herself as often as you do," said Carl. "Be- fore dinner you told me you cared for noth- ing which cost trouble!" "Ab, but that was my trouble!" said she, laughing. "And the trouble which is necessary as a zest is somebody else's, I suppose?" "He that runs might read that much, I should think," said his uncle. "Miss Des- mond's taste is like that of the rest of her sex, but her frankness is her own." "You are quite right, sir, my frankness is my own," said she. "It is Quo thing to which I can lay fair claim." "You must allow the rest of us to think that there are other things to which you can lay quite as fair claim," said Mr. Middleton, who occasionally made puns of such a brill- iant nature, that nobody but himself was aware of them until they were elaborately cx- plained~ "If you really want to flatter me," said she, "say that tl~pre is something Irish in my tongue. There is no hing of which I am half so proud of as belonging to the most ready- witted people on the face of the earth." "We'll say any thing you please, if you'll only go and sing for us," said Leslie. "I suppose I must be more obliging than the mocking - bird," said she, with a sigh. "But I shall sing execrably, I give you warn- ing of that. I always do, when I don't feel like it." "Your worst must be better than many other people's best, I am sure." "After such flattery as that, how can I refuse?" said she, turning to Max. "Stay where you all are, then, and I will go an4' sing fqr you." She moved across the veranda as she spoke, and entered the drawing-room; but one member of the group did not obey her last injunction. When she reached the piano, she found Carl Middleton at her side. "Did you not hear me tell you to stay outside ?" she asked, impatiently. "What do you mean by following me like this? Don't you know that it is the thing of all others whieh I most detest?" "I can never enjoy music unless I see the singer," said he, coolly. "Besides, can't you give me credit for a little curiosity? I am anxious to hear bow that fellow out~ yonder managed to defend his audacious assertion at dinner." "Is it so incredible that a man who has lived in France all his life should have seen me, who have lived there the greater part of mine ?"' she asked, indifferently. "Not incredible, nor even remarkable as an abstract fact. As a particular fact, how- ever, I would be willing to wager my next good horse that it is a pure invention of his own impudence and his cousin s necessity." "Perhaps so," said she, lightly running her hand over the keys, "but there are some things which it is less trouble and better pol- icy to believe than to disbelieve: This is one of them." CHAPTER XI. "For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and infirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, Than women's are." Axoxo all the pleasant rooms at Rosland, the dining-room in the morning was perhaps the pleasantest. On one side the windows opened down to the green turf, on the other upon a vine-latticed alcove-half piazza, half room-which, being delightfully cool, served as an after-dinner smoking-room to Mr; Mid- dieton and his masculine guests. "What a pleasant place!" Norah said, strolling into it on the morning after th9 Tyn- dales had dined at Rosland. She had come down rather early, and, entering the break- fast - room, found only Carl in occupation. "How charmingly airy, and what a fragrant odor of good tobacco seems to pervade every thing! Do you know," she added, laughing, that, although I would 'not for any considera- tion betray the fact to our friends here, I am very fond of a cigarette, and I should like nothing better than to take one after dinner in this pretty nook." "Why not do it, then ?" asked he. "You cannot really think that my aunt or Leslie would' be so narrow-minded or so ill-bred as to object?" "Object! Oh no, they would not dream of doing that; but they would give me over to utter reprbbation as fast, as Bohemian, and every thing else that good society con- demns. Now, you may not think so, perhaps, but I am on my best behavior at present, and I' don't want to shock them more than I can help. This is my first introduction into re- spectable life, and I must try and learn to be as much like respectable people as I can." "You'll never succeed. There's the stamp of another life and another rearing on you." "That is encouraging, at any rate. But you have yet to learn that I generally succeed in whatever I undertake." "I wish you would undertake to like me, then," said he, with a tone of only half jest in his voice. "That would be quite unnecessary, since I like you already," answered she. "I informed you of that fact yesterday, and you may be sure that I should not have done so if it had not been true. Polite fiction is a branchof page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] A DAUGBTBR OF BOHEMIA. AT BREAKFAST. social accomplishment which I have never cultivated. Have you looked at the morning papers. What is the news from France?" She turned carelessly back into the break- fast - room as she spoke, and, walking to a side-table, began turning over the mail that lay there. Provoked by her nonchalance, Carl remained where he was, and in this so- ciable attitude Leslie found them when she entered a few minutes later. It was one of the little things which sometimes occur, as if with strange perversity, to justify an erro- neous opinion. "I think you are wrong about Carl," Miss Grahame had said the evening before to her aunt. "I do not believe he is in love with Norah. He admires her, of course; but I am sure he has not an idea of any thing more." It must be said that con- ecience pricked Leslie a little as she made these comforting remarks; but, as she came in now, she thought how right she had been. No man in love could have resisted such an opportunity for a fi~te-d4~te, she felt sure; therefore it followed, 'with a logic irresistible to the feminine mind, that Carl was not in love. * "how early you are!" she said to Norah. "Are you looking to see if you have any let- ters? It is too soon yet, is it not?" "To hear from Kate, do you mean? Yes; she would scarcely have written immediately after I left, especially since she started at the same time for Ireland with papa. But there is an attraction in turning over letters, even when they are not for ourselves; and here are a great many." "Let us see whom they arc for," said Les- lie. She took and began sorting them. "Half a dozen for uncle, three for Aunt Mildred, and more than it will be pleasant to answer for znyself.-Carl, there are none for you." "I have mine already - thanks," said Carl, emerging from the alcove. "But here is one which may interest you. It is from Mrs. Sandford, I think." She opened a pale-gray envelope, stamped with monogram~ and crest, and inclosing a sheet of paper filled with writing- ---- - as when a field of corn BoWs all its ears before the roaring cast "- as fashionable, illegible, and full of long tails, as such calligraphy usually is. "Yes, it is from Mrs. Sandford," she add- ed, after a minute. "She says she will be here to-day. Think of that, Carl 1" "I am thinking of it as hard as possible," said he; "but I don't know whether I am expected to be overpowered with ecstasy or with disgust." "You will not ask when you are in full tide of flirtation to-morrow." "I have sworn off from flirtation," he an- swered, walking to the window. "Champagne * is a very good thing for holidays, but it is not wholesome when taken as the staple of a man's life." "What is not wholesome when taken as the staple of a man's life?" asked Mr. Mid- dieton, coming in just then, with his feet ar- rayed in the gorgeously-worked slippers which were always such a conspicuous feature of his morning toilet. "Champagne," answered Leslie. "Did you know that it was not goo~l when taken in any way? But Carl, having become philo- sophical, has begun to talk in metaphors and illustrations, like a sage." "I am afraid you are cultivating satire, Leslie," said Carl, strolling back to the table. "Take my advice, and don't-even in its mildest form it makes a woman~so exceeding- ly disagreeable!" "And how does it make a man?" "It is not pleasant in any case, but pleasant things, as a rule, are not expected from a man." "Are they not? This is the first time I ever heard that freedom to be unpleasant is 1 one of the many monopolies which your sex are kind enough to claim." "There's nothing like living and learn- I ing," said he, sitting down. "Now, pray, leave your correspondence for the present1 and give me a cup of coffee, like a good girl. I have eaten a dozen apricots and three pears already; but one needs something a little more substantial, even in July." Since Mrs. Middleton seldom appeared at breakfast, Leslie took the seat of honor (and trouble) at the head of the - table; and her pretty, deft hands were soon busy among the cups and saucers. It was an anomalous but attractive-looking breakfast over which she presided. Besides the standard dishes-the crisply-broiled "spring-chickens," the flaky rolls and waffles which are the pride of every Southern cook-therewere fruit-stands heaped with peaches, apricots, pears, and plums, beau- tiful enough in color and variety to have tempted any artist alive to make a study of them. am not sure that in midsummer one needs any thing 'more sabstantial than this," said i~iorah, holding up a peach -with cheeks as gkraring as her own. "You remember the old proverb which says that fruit is golden in the morning, silver at noon, and lead at night?'" "Whatever it may be," said Mr. Middle- ton, "1 cannot say that I like it at breakfast. Of course, there is no accounting for partien- Jar tastes; but give me a beefsteak and a cup of coffee, all the year round." "Give it to me also, if a positive choice must be made," said Norab. "I have nothing whatever ethereal about me-appetite least of all." In this way they were taking their break- fast lei~urely, and talking lightly, as people do who have nothing in particular before them aU day, when a man's figure suddenly appeared on the turf outside the window, and a familiar voice said: "May I come in?" It was Arthur Tyndile, who, being bidden cordially to enter, came in and took the empty seat by Leslie's tray. "I thought I would walk over before it became so very warm," lie said, by way of explanation "Will you take me on your hands for the day? It is really insufferably dull over there at Stratford. I thought yes. terday that I would not attempt to pull through another long warm day with no bet. ter amusement than a novel and Max." "I was under the impression that men were never bored by each other's society," said Leslie, with that light, rippling laugh which is so significant of happiness on a woman's lips. "Norah and I, now, might be supposed to find each other dull; but Captain Tyndale and yourself-the idea never occurred to sue for a moment! "- "It occurred to us, however, very strong- ly-at least, it occurred to me." "Why did you not bring Captain Fyndale' over with you?" asked Mr. Middleton, hos- pitably. "Simply because the unsociable rascal would not come. lie intends to spend the day tying in the shade on the verge of the lake, and fancying that he is fishing." "There are worse occupations for such a day as this," said Carl-" that is, unless the fish are too much demoralized by the heat to bite. I have half a mind to go out for the same amusement myself.-What do you say, Miss Desmond" (turning quickly), "will you come, also?" "If you will guarantee that it shall be cool and pleasant all the time, that we shall catch as many fish as we desire, and that I shall be neither sunburnt nor freckled." "Let us all goP' said Tyndale, eagerly. "If we drive over to the lake, where Max is, we shall find it very cool and pleasant; Straf- ford is near at hand for luncheon, and we can come back in thecool of the evening to dinner" "There is only one objection," said Les- lie. "Mrs. Sandford is coming to-day." "Mrs. Sandford! Is siw coming to-day?" said Tyndale. An expression of deep disgust fell over his face. It was evident at a glance that this was any thing but a pleasant item of news to him. "Mr. Tyndale seems inclined to furnish you with the ecstasies which I was unable to niford, Leslie," said Carl. "Mrs. Sandford is no favorite of mine," answered Tyndale; "I confess I am not ~lad to hear that she is coming. "It cannot be helped now, however," said Leslie, "and so-don't you think the fishing might be a good plan for to-morrow? I should like Norah to see Strafford and its grounds." "Yes, let us go to-morrow, by all means," said Carl. And, since Norah did not say any thing, the matter seemed to be settled that they were to go. After breakfast that general aimlessness and want of purpose which always charac- terize a set of idle people in the country, took full possession of this group. Somebody threw out a suggestion about walking, which somebody else negative by saying it was too warm; Leslie talked of ordering the carriage to pay a visit in the neighborhood, but was readily dissuaded on the score of dust; Carl, being questioned as to why he did not carry out his intention of going fishing, replied that the house could not furnish any good tackle -and so they all sat on the lawn, under a large tulip-tree, and did nothing, until the sun invaded their retreat, and, Mr. Middle- ton coming up just then, carried the two young men off to the stable to look at a horse he had bought, Or was thinking of ouying- nobody besideshimself understood veryclearly which. I / 62 63 page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] 04 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. A. TROPICAL STORM. 65 Then, as the two girls returned to the house, Norah said: "You must excuse me, dear, if I leave you for the rest of the morning. I have all my letters yet to write, and you know that epis. tolary effort is not the easiest thing in the world such weather as this." "I am very sorry that you have to go," said Leslie, in her cordial, sincere voice; "but, of course, letters cannot be put off, and I hope you feel that you are at home-that you can do exactly as you please. Give my dearest love to Kate, anti tell her that if she were here it would be the only thing which could add to my happiness just now." "You are certainly very kind!" said No. rah, with a quick thrill in her voice. "I'll tell Kate with pleasure; and I'll tell her, also, that you deserve all, and more than all, of the happiness of which you speak." So it came to pass that when the two gen- tlemen returned from inspecting Mr. Middle- ton's equine purchase, they found Leslie alone in the hall. "Norah has gone to write let- ters," she said; and Carl felt immediately that human endurance of heat, eiznui, and gossip, had reached its utmost limit. The withdrawal of the sun behind a cloud typifies but poorly the blank cheerlessness which No- rah's withdrawal brought over his world. "I've. got a letter or two to write myself," he said, and so went off-not to the library, or to his own chamber; but to the little smoking-den by the dining-room, where his letter-writing consisted in lying on a lounge and consuming many more cigars than were good for him. He entertained no doubt, how- ever, but that his epistolary labors were quite as genuine as Miss Desmond's. The idea that she had really gone to her room to write let- ters never for a moment occurred to him. She had gone to avoid Tyndale, he felt sure- so sure that if, indeed, "curses, like young chickens, always come home to roost," Carl certainly provided himself with a liberal brood that morning. "D-n the fellow!" he found himself saying again and again, even while trying to read two orthree alternate newspa- pers and a magazine. "How does he dare to thrust himself into her presence like this? I wish to Heaven she would let me teach him better?" That Mr. Tyndale had a right to be at Rosland irrespective of Norah's pres- ence there, or that Leslie might possess some slight claim upon his consideration, never for an instant occurred to this zealous champion. Neither did it occur to him that he knew ex- ceedingly little of Miss Desmond's "cause," and that little only by inference. With re- gard to this cause, there was justification enough for all possible ardor in the one grand, simple, and wholly satisfactory reason that it was her own. Meanwhile Arthur Tyndale began to dis- cover that time might hang heavily at Ros- land as well as at Strafford. Fond as he was of Leslie, and charming and bright as she al- ways made herself to him, he felt this morn- ing a certain lack of zest in her society, a certain vague want of the pungent flavor of au excitement which he had specially come to seek. It was so vague-this sense of flatness and tameness - that he was scarcely more than conscious of it, and yet he could not banish it. "I believe you are bored, after all," Leslie said to him, smiling, and, although he quickly denied the assertion, he could not so readily shake off the fact. Yet, in truth, he was something more than merely "bored" -which is a passive state of suffering at least. He was actively conscious of a subtle excite- ment which made the shaded room, with its perfect quiet and whiff of roses on the air, al- most intolerable to him. Leslie herself, for the first time in her life, jarred on his mood through her very unconsciousness of it, through her utter ignorance of the restless craving which possessed him, and to which he would have found it difficult to give a name, being a man little addicted to self- analysis. In fact, he was not a man who ever troubled himself very much about his motives, or who could have been said to own a particularly high standard for any thing, though it can fairly be added for him that he was not in any sense a bad man. He was only one of a large class whose impulses are stronger than their principle; whose courage is not great in the moral order, and who are in all respects born epicureans and seekers of pleasure. Just now he was in a state of transition, which puzzled and annoyed him not a little. He felt that he was outraged- that he had good cause for being outraged -with Norah Desmond: she had defied, in- sulted, scorned, and mocked him, until he could almost have lifted %his hand and struck her down in the proud insolence of her beauty -yet she had so stung and roused him, that he could not banish her from his thoughts let him do what he would. All other things seemed tame after the supreme excitement of her presence, the varying spell of her face, the haunting music of her voice. Leslie, sit- ting in the green shade of the Venetian blinds, with the dainty needle-work of which she was foad in her slender white hands, had little idea of the feverish restlessness which filled her companion. Yet, even to Leslie, it was a relief when their t~te-d-t~te was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Middleton with a ba- rometer in his hand. "Just as I thought!" he said, with an air of gratification. "We are going to have a storm at last. I was sure this sultry heat meant something of the kind." "Are we going to have a storm?" asked Leslie.~ "If so, I. hope it will clear both the physical and moral atmosphere. Somehow I think we are all more or less affected by the weather this morning-at least, I know we arc all more or less out of sorts." "That might be caused by something be- sides the weather," said her uncle; "but I am pretty sure we shall have a storm, and the usual result of a storm is to clear the physical atmosphere, at least." "I think the day is growing more sul- try," she went on, after a minute, letting her work drop and beginning to apply her fan. -.-" Arthur, will you open the blinds? After all, one must have air, even if one is obliged to take heat with it." * The blinds being opened, it was found that the vertical heat was untempered even by the faintest breeze. The blazing noon seemed beating with fie1~ce power upon the parched earth which lay helpless ~mder its scorching glare. Sound there was none. Through all the wide domain of Nature a stillness reigned, compared to which mid- night is vocal with noise. Not a leaf rustled, not a single bird found courage to chirp; only a locust now and then lifted up its solitary voice in the burning land. The sky above was cloudless and intensely blue; but along the verge of the horizon, especially in the southwest, white, fleecy clouds were lying piled in great masses, which dazzled the eye as it fell on them. "If the rain is coming at all, the sooner it comes the better," said Mr. Middleton, walking to and fro, with the barometer in one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the oth- er. "This is unendurable-or would be un- endurable-if there was any way to remedy it!" Way thero was none, however, save to wait for the storm, which really seemed at last as if i~ meant to come; for, while they panted and gasped for air in the stillness of the burning~ noon, the first distant rumble of thunder smote suddenly like welcome music on their ears. Then, by slow degrees, the dazzling white cloud moved higher up the sky, the rolling sounds grew more frequent, though stilt very distant; the leaves began to rustle a little, as if in thirsty expectation, though the sun still shone with the same pitiless glare on the dusty ground and dried. up herbage. "It really seems impossible that we shall have any rain!" said Leslie, skepti- cally; and, considering how long it had been since they had last seen a cloud, her skepti- cism was excusable. This cloud, however, plainly meant business. It gradually changed from fleecy whiteness to a dark, blue-gray, lurid mass, in the depths of which vivid flashes of lightning leaped and played among Alpine peaks and crags. As it marched steadily up the sky, overspreading and taking possession of the whole heavens, like an army with banners, it was a sight well worth wit- nessing. When it finally reached and en- shrouded the sun, the darkness which fell over the land was like an eclipse. In the house it was scarcely possible to see any thing. The party, who were just then sitting down to luncheon, looked at each other in dismay. It is too much to expect of human nature that it will eat by faith and not by sight in summer weather. There was a mo- ment's pause; then, while Mr. Middleton, with his eye-glass, was closely examining the dish before him, preparatory to announcing its name and nature to the company, Mrs. Middleton ordered Robert to light the gas. "The storm must be near at hand," she said. When the gas was lighted, Leslie uttered a slight exclamation. "WhyNorah is not here!" she said. "It was so dark that I really did not notice her absence before." "I suppose she did not hear the bell," said Mrs. Middleton.-" Robert, send up and let Miss Desmond know that luncheon is ready." "Perhaps she is asic-" It was Miss Grahame who began this sen- tence, but it was never finished. At that in- stant a flash of lightning, like a solid sheet p page: 66 (Illustration) [View Page 66 (Illustration) ] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. of flame, seemed to fill the room, paling into insignificance the glow of the gas, and light- ing up every thing with a lurid and terrible glare itapossible to describe. Following so closely that it seemed almost simultaneous, a volleying crash ofthunder shook the house to its very foundation. With this magnificent though rather~ startling prelude, the storm burst. Before the last mighty reverberation had died away, the rush of pouring rain sounded on the roof and down the dry water. spouts. "Are our heads still on our shoulders?" asked Leslie, as soon as it was possible to speak at all. "Did anybody ever see the like of such a flash? What a mercy that none of us were killed?" "As soon as Robert comes back he must close the shutters," said Mrs. Middletos, who had laid down her knife and fork ana turned very pale. "It will not do to run such a risk." "What nil uproar!" said Carl, laying down his knife and fork to listen. "By Jove! wouldn't you think there was a tremendous artillery -duel going on in the celestial re- gions?" "It is more like a pitched battle," said Tyndale. "Listen You cannot only hear the boom of heavy guns, but the rattling vol. leys of musketry." "I thought we should have a deluge when it came," said Mr. Middleton, helping himself complacently to cold mutton, and thinking what a good thing it was for the corn, which needed rain terribly~ In the xnidet of the din, which was truly deafening, Robert came back, and said a few words to his miStress, the effect of which was to make that lady look very much astonished. ~'Not in the house!" she repeated. "Are you sure? Why, where on earth cam shebe?" "Where can who be?" asked Leslie, quickly. "sot Norah-you can't mean that Norah is not in the house?" "So Robert says," answered Mrs. Middle. ton, "though I scarcely think it can be po~- sible." "Me and Maria's looked everywhere fur her, ma'am, but she can't he found," said Robert, speaking to Miss Grahame; "and Ellen says she saw her going toward the woods 'bout an hour ago, with a book under her arm." "Toward the woods!" two or three simultaneous voices made this exclamation. "Good Heavens!" "You must be mista- ken!" "It can't be pos'dblc!" "Miss Desmond is not crazy, is she?" said Mr. Middleton, when these disjointed ex- clamations were for the moment exhausted. "If not, it stands to reason that she could not have done any thing so foolish as to go to the woods in the burning heat of an hour ago, with a storm plainly coming up." "But where is she, then?" asked Leslie. "She must be somewhere, you know.-Carl, what are you going to do?" "I am going after her," said Carl, rising, and pushing back his chair with a quick jerk -"if you are sure she is not in the house, Robert." "I am perfectly sure, sir," answered Rob- ert. "Me and Maria looked everywhere." "You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Mid- dieton," said Tyndale, also rating abruptly; "Jam going in search of Miss Desmond." "Arc you?" said Carl, haughtily. Their glances met and crossed like two swords. "But, if you will pardon me, I think I had better take that liberty, since I am an old acquaintance of Miss Desmond's, and you are not.'1 He turned and was leaving the room, when Mr. Middleton interfered. "Don't be a fool, Carl !" he said, irrita- I bly. "What is the sense of talking about I going out in such a hurricane as this, espe~ cially since you have not the faintest idea where Miss Desmond is?" "You don't expect me to sit still with the consciousileSs that ~Ae is out in the hurricane, do you, sir?" answered Carl.-" Leslie, will you send somebody to get mc a water-proof and a shawl or two ?-~-Robert, tell Ellen I want to speak to her in the hall." CIIAVrEU XII. "Some ladles love the jewels in Love's zone, And geld-tipped darts he bath for painless play In idle, scorafal hours he flings away; And some that listen to his lute's soft tone Do love to deem th~ silver praise their own; Some prize his blindfold sight; and there be they Who hissed his wings which brought him yes- terday, And thank his wings to-day that he is flown." WisaN Miss Desmond went to her own room, and began writing her letters-of which, 66 0 'a 0 C ~0 C C; 0. 'a 0 a' U. V C 0~ 'V -o 0 C 'a S 'a page: -67[View Page -67] NORAH'S LETTER TO KATE. 07 notwithstanding Carl's incredulity, she had a goodly number on hand-she naturally found that it was very warm work. There are warmer things, perhaps-making hay may be one of them-but certainly it is a -sufficiently warm thing to sit down in the exhausting heat of a July day to write two or three letters to that class of people who expect to hear " every thing about every thing " in detail. Now, ready as Norah was with her tongue, she was not particularly ready with hey pen, and she found that her ideas and energy were forsak- ing her in the most disheartening manner. "It is the' intolerable heat," she said, at last, throwing down her pen after an hour~'s fruitless labor. " Horace Walpole himself could not have written any thing more than a string of commonplaces under such circum- stances. 'If I could only get out into the open air! It never is as warm in the open air as it is in-doors, let people say what they will." Fired with this desire, she rose, drew back her blind, and, finding the coast apparently clear on the side of the house next the shrub- bery, proceeded to tie on a garden-hat ,to take a portfolio under her arm, and to cautiously sally forth down the back staircase. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case might have been esteemed, Carl was taking a short nap over his novel just then, and so he missed the light footstep which crossed the dining-room, and the light finter of a dress which passed through one of the open win- dows to the lawn. Rejoicing in her escape, Miss Desmond unfurled her parasol, and took a short cut across the sunlit turf to the green depths of the shrubbery beyond. " There are at least a dozen pleasant places there where I can sit and scribble without being suffocated," she thought. "Have I really any gypsy blood, I wonder ? No Zin- gali ever hated the confinement of four walls worse thanlIdo!" But even in the shrubbery she discovered that, at high noon, pleasant places, which should be also shady places, were hard to find. The shadows of the largest trees seemed in- finitesimally small, and proved wholly unsat-. isfactory. Strolling on from point to point, she scarcely knew where dhe was going until she found herself in the neighborhood of the. summer.house where her interview with Ar- thur Tyndale had taken place the day before,. It seemed so full of the recollection of this scene that she turned away impatiently E I I". for- a moment. But then-as.if remembering herself-she turned back again and took her way toward it with atn air of resolution. " This will not do! !' she said, half aloud ; "I cannot afford to indulge myself in matters of sentiment, even in little things ; It is a bad precedent. One must do whatever is the best thing to do and just now it is the best thing to find shelter from the sun." The door of the summer-house was stand. ing open, as it had been the day before; the chairs were sitting exactly as they ha'd been left; and on the small table in the centre of the floor was a faded rose which Norah re- membered to have laid there when she at- tempted tofolow Leslie. "Wazs it only yesterday ?" she thought, taking up the flower and looking at it. "Some- how it seems to me a much longer time !" -Then she laid her portfolio on the table, opened both easements to secure as much of a thorough draught as possible, and, taking a fresh sheet of paper, resumed the letter on which she had last been engaged. "You would scarcely credit, Kate," she wrote, "for I scarcely credit it myself until I had fairly tested it, how entirely my old love --was it love, or- only fancy, as you warned me once ?-for this man is dead!i Looking at him as ho stood before mieyesterday--here, ini this very summer-house where I am writing now-I scorned myself, with a scorn that tin. gled to the very ends of my fingers, that I had ever loved him for an hour, and, above all and over all, that I had ever been mad enough to tell him so. For, Kate, he taunted me with it! Think of that-imagine that-if you can! Whether you can or cannot, the fact remains the same-he taunted me with it 1 Re asked me-me, whom he was insulting and defying-if I dared to deiiy that I had loved him once! Are you acquainted with any epithet strong enough to express your opinion of such a man ? If so, oblige me by bestowing it upon him, for lam not. "Ah, Kate, he is so pitiful in his cowrard- ice and fear of me! Re has not even the courage necessary for being wholly false. lie alternately blusters and cringes, in order to learn what I 'mean to do.' Baffled in this endeavor, he has set his cousin on the trek of discovery. This cousin is al very trans- parent diplomatist, however, and I do not think will be likely to discover very much. In a small way, he is something of a puzzle page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE. 09 to me. Yesterday evening I changed my opinion of him several times-which is rather unusual for me, wh~ have had such good cause to know men well, and to read them easily. He possesses the unusual combine. tion of a certain direct frankness (either real or assumed), together with a great deal of im- perturbable self-possession; but what chiefly puzzles me is his motive for espousing his cousins cause, since you are probably as well aware as I am that men do not readily under- take delicate and difficult negotiations (es- pecially with a woman) out of pure friendship for another man. What Captain Tyndale cx-' pects to gain by obtaining from me certain concessions for~ his cousin, which he never soW obtain, I cannot as yet imagine. You will say, with that peculiarly deep knowledge of lwman nature which distinguishes you, that probably the cousin has promised to pay his debts, or to afford hin~ substantial aid in some other form, if he succeeds. I do not know. perhaps it is because the martial diplomate bears the name of my old hero in 'Wallen- stein,' that I do not think he looks like a man to whom it would be exactly safe to make such a proposal. A gentleman, I should say, a man of better moral fibre than his cousin, as well as of higher 'tone '-he proved that last night when he approached with courtesy and respect a woman whom he had evidently been taught to think worthy of neither. "For he-the coward whose name just now I cannot force myself to write - has added, to the passive insult of treating mc as if I were an adventuress, the active insult of saying that I am one. What he, has said, and what left unsaid, what insinuated, and what openly avowed, I can scarcely tell you, foz~ it has been merely hinted to mc. Carl Middleton-hi~lf in honest warning, half with the jealous instinct of a man in love-told me yesterday that Mr. Tyndale had been kind enough to warn Leslie against sending for me, assuring her that I was a woman "with a notoriously fast reputation,' and one with whom 'it would not be well for her to associ- ate.' You kpow these men of the world, as they love to call themselves; you know how, with an accent, an arch of the eyebrow, a shrug of the shoulders, they can put more force and meaning into one simple sentence, than all the eloquence of all the advocates who have ever lived since the beginning of the world could disprove. I can see, I can hear, Arthur Tyndale, as he delivered that warning against me. "And perhaps you womIer how I felt when I heard it repeated by other lips. In truth, my Kate, not much more scorn than I had felt before-scorn so great, so overpow- ering, that, for a time, it literally swallowed up all other feeling. Then, after a while, in. dignatron came over me. I thought, my poor Kate, of our friendless, unprotected girlhood; of our careless, wandering, vagrant life; of how hard we have striven-against odds that none but ourselves can even guess-to keep our names above reproach. I thought-for, in the still hours of the night, I added up my debt against Arthur Tyndale item on item-- how well he knew these things, how thor.- oughly he had appreciated our position, how entirely he was aware that the hand which Leslie held out might have been to both of us scarcely less than a hand from heaven. Then I thought of his passionate and persistent de- votion when we knew him first; of his reso- lute determination that I-who had already learned to put scant faith in men's admiration or men's love-should learn to love him; of his success, at last; of his departure; of his silence; of the manner in which he flung this love, which he had won at such great cost and from so proud a heart, into the dust, like a worthless thing. I recalled the manner in which he had denied to my face that he ever knew me; the insult which he had added to treachery, the slander to scorn; I burned it into my comprehension and memory that, not content with having broken his faith, and thrown his honor to the winds, he had opened his false lips-than which falser never spake since the birth of time-to take away that good name which, of great value to all wom- en, is simply priceless to us. "And, when the debt was all added up, it w~is so great that I thought to myself, 'What reprisal can ever equal it?"' The passionate excitement of the writer had waxed so great over the last paragraph that, as her pen dashed, rapidly across the paper, covering it with a heavy, black chirog- raphy, very unlike a woman's usual hand, she had failed to notice the steadily advancing cloud, or the muttering thunder overhead. At the last words, however, that sudden dark. ness fell which amazed the party assembled round the luncheon-table at Rosland; andy wondering what strange eclipse had overtaken the noonday, she looked up with a start. Then she saw the cloud, of whose approach she had before been merely vaguely conscious, and saw, also, how near at hand it was. Through the open door she commanded an excellent view of the lurid blackness which had over- spread the whole western heavens, against which the green depths of summer foliage stood out in vivid relief. As yet every thing was very still-but, as she gazed, a low, sigh- ing wind swept by, and two or three birds flew up out of a neighboring copse, uttering shrill, discordant cries. "There is going to be a storm!" she thought-a conclusion in which a child of two yearS old might have ac- quiesced-" shall I have tinfe to reach the hous~ before it bursts?" Since there was no weather-seer at hand to answer this question, she paused irreso- lutely and looked at the cloud. As she looked, it gave its terrible and majestic an- swer back. Her very eyeballs seemed scorched by the blinding glare that suddenly lit up the whole face of Nature, and she felt as if the house in which she stood was tum- bling over her head in the pealing crash which followed. Immediately after this, her breath was literally swept away by a storm of wind which rushed into the summer-house like an incarnate fiend; and, when she recovered it, she found herself seated again in the chair from which she had risen, clutching the table by a blind instinct, while her portfolio and papers were already gone from sight, dancing a demoniac dance on the wings of the wind, thanks to the convenient and delightful thorough draught which she had arranged. Her first idea was that she had been struck by that awful and vivid flash of light- ning; but, finding this to be an erroneous im- pression, she then decided that it would be well to close the windows against the storm which was rushing in. It cost her a struggle to accomplish this feat, especially on the southern side, for the hurricane beat her back again and again with fierce violence. Succeeding at last, however, she then' turned her attention to the door. It proved, how- ever, even more unmanageable thanthe win- dows had done. The bolt being defective, as fast as it was closed the wind burst it open again with a 'triumphant blast~ Dis- mayed at the third repetition of such a per- formance, Norah tried the effect of placing a chair against it. The effect was simply that of seeing a chair knocked over in the floor, and the door burst wide open for the fourth time. Then she tried the table, which, being a little more substantial, held its own for several minutes. During these minutes, Miss Desmond had time to consider how very warm it was, now that she was safely shut up in a box, to think that she had much better have stayed in the house after all, to wish that she had noticed the approach of the storm a lit- tle earlier, to wonder how long it would last, and to discover that the roof of the sum- mer-house was leaking-when the door was burst open for the fifth time, and the drenched figure of a man appeared on the thresh- old. "Carl !" she said, involuntarily, but a pair of long, dark mustache had not apper- tamed to Carl's personal appearance when she saw him last, and, a very battered hat being pushed back at that moment, she rec- ognized Max Tyndale. The astonishment on both sides was very great, and without any real or simulated ad- mixture of pleasure. "Miss Desmond!" said Max. Then he took off his hat and laughed-shaking him- self like a Newfoundland dog. "I suppose you were caught in the rain as well as my- self," he said. "I had no alternative but to seek the nearest shelter. It is a regular tropical storm!" "I have not been in the rain, but I was caught here," answered Norah. "Pray shut the door if you are coming in," she added, anxiously. "I was sure the wind had burst it open again." "I suppose I ought to have asked if I might come in," said he, proceeding to obey her directions. "But I had no idea of find- ing any one, and then-" "And then you know that you have quite as much , right to be here as I have. Don't make foolish apologies, Captain Tyndale; but push the table as hard as you can against the door, else it will not stay shut." "Is that the way?" asked he, pushing very hard indeed. "Yes, that is the way, but I am afraid it will be open agaha in a few minutes-the storm seems really increasing in violence. Oh! I have an idea! You intend 'to sit down, I imagine. Well, suppose you sit on tkal? It will help to.keep it firm." page: 70[View Page 70] ~70 A DATJOHTER OF BOHEMIA. "On the table, do you mean?" "Yes, on the table, of course." "Very well," said he, and immediately sat down, without exhibiting any sign of cur. prise, or making any objection. "You must be invaluable as a 'soldier," said Miss Desmond, after a short pause, dur. ing which she had regarded him as he sat with his arms crossed and his back against the door~ "You are very kind," he answered, "but it would not become me to say that you are right." "Prompt, unquestioning obedience is the greatest virtue of a soldier, is it not?" "It is one of the most necessary, at least." "You certainly seem to possess it in more than ordinary degree." "I have generally found it less trouble to obey than to question; therefore, you see that my obedience would scarcely come under the head of a virtue." "It might come under the head of a rec. ommeudation though." "It has done that once or twice in my life." "As when-?" "Oh," said he, smiling, "I hope you don't think me so fodlish or so egotistical as to entertain a woman with accounts of military events." "And pray why not?" asked she, a lit. tle piqued. "Do you think a woman inca- pable of understanding them?" "Not necessarily; but' the chances are, in the 'first place, that 'she would be very~ much bored; and, in the second place, that the relator would be tempted to embroider, or at least to dwell upon his own achieve. raents-.-two things which no man of sense ever does." "You should not snake such sweeping as. sectionss about men of sense; you condemn the majority of mankind altogether." "Being in the majority, tl~ey can afford to support the fact with philosophy, since majorities govern most things in this fine world of ours," "Yes-unfortunately. Would it not be a singular, and, from some points of view, rather a pleasant thing, if we were able to reverse matters and give the power to ml. ~noritles for a time? I belong to so many minorities myself that I should like it cx. tremely." "And I should not object. Matters could not be much worse than they are' at present." "I am surprised that fishing has not in- duced you to look at the affairs of the world more cheerfully~ People who like that amuse. went say that one views every thing so phil. osophically from an angling point of view." "Not when the fish refuse to bite, when one breaks a good line, and when a storm comes up and wets one to the skin." "I am afraid you must be very wet," said she, as if the idea had occurred to her for the first time. "Don't you think you will take cold?" "It is not impossible, but scarcely prob- able." "How did 'you chance to come here?" she went on, after a minute. "' I thought your cousin said that you were fishing in some lake which cannot be very near at hand?" "I was fishing there, but I grew tired of an amusement which came to nothing, and I was on my way to Rosland for luncheon when the storm came up." "It must have come i~p very quickly, for I was writing, and did not notice it until there was not time to reach the house." "Writing !-'were you writing I~er.e 9 That accounts for various waifs and strays of paper that I saw tossing about. One of them came as straight to me as if it had been directed und sent by post. I was hurrying along, when it blew intG my hand so oCten and so persistently that I caught arA crammed it into lay pocket.-By.the-by, I suppose it is there yet." He put his hand into one of his pockets as he spoke, and drew forth a crumpled mass of blotted paper, which he proceeded to smooth out on the table. "The rain has made the ink run to such an extent that I fear it is almost illegible," he said. "But, still, I think it must be yours, Miss Desmond." "Why do you think so?" asked she. He looked up with a quick glance in his dark eyes. "Becanse, if you will excuse me, I see a sentence here which no one else could have written," he answered. "What is it?" she asked, as coolly as he. fore. "Shall I bring the letter and show it to von?" "No; read it aloud." I 1- page: Illustration-71[View Page Illustration-71] MAX TYNDALE'S MOTIVES. .1 , 'I 71 a'. a -I .5 a' '4 "Miss Desmond I" "Well, did you not hear me? The thun- der does make a great noise. I said, 'Ilead it ~ "Are you in earnest?" "Am I likely to be in jest?" demanded she, haughtily. "It is your own affair, of course," said he, with the momentary. surprise vanishing from his face. "I only beg you to believe that my eye fell on the passage accidentally, and that I have seen nothing else. This is it"-he bent over the letter and read aloud 'the fol- lowing, with the utmost san~rfroid: "'Looking at him as he stood before me yesterday-here, in this very summer-house where I am writing now--I scorned myself, with a scorn that tingled to the very ends, of my lingers, that I had ever loved him for an hour, and, above all and over all,~that I had ever been mad enough to tell him so 1"' "And you think lam the only person who could have written that?" asked she, in a quick voice, as he stopped. He looked up again, and, as he did so, womler seized him that she should have forced him to read aloud any thing which had power to bring such a blush to her face- such a look of pain to her eyes. "Forgive me," he said, almost humbly. "I was guilty of gross presumption in tliink~ lug or saying any thing about it." "You were guilty of nothing of the kind," answered she, imperiously. "How could a man possibly be guilty of gross presumption toward a woman. whom he holds as you hold me?" "Miss Desmond, I must protest-" "I~rotest nothing," interrupted she, quick- ly, "or you will force me to hold your word as lightly as that of any other man. 'No doubt you are like all the rest of your sex; but, as yet, I have not found it out. For novelty's, sake, therefore, let me believe that you sometimes' tp~ak truth-even to a wotn- an!" "Believe me, I was not going to speak any thing else when you interrupted me2' "Were you going to protest that you do not take me to be the woman whom' Arthur Tyndale has descrIbed?" "No; I was ~nly going to protest against your interpretation of my thoughts, and your idea of my opinions." "Well, you are candid so far, at any rate," said she, smiling a little. "Do you know," she added, after a minute, "that I am half inclined to ask you to read that blotted letter which has come so singularly into your hands? You cannot Mieve that I bad any intention of the kind when I wrote it. There. fore, you may take it as a truthful statement of certain facts which you have no doubt heard differently rendered-froan your cous- in's point of view." lie looked at her keenly. "Will you pardon me if I ask again wheth- er you are in earnest?" he said, gravely. "I am perfectly in earnest," she answered, " unless you consider the matter of too little importance to be worth the trouble of deci- phering such a scrawl!" * lie replied by taking up the letter and be- ginning to read. For some minutes after this, silence reigned-that is to say, n~ words were spoken; but the pouring rahi and the rolling thunder made any thing but silence in the literal sense oF tb~ tertn~ Norah watched Max oiosely,~ as his eye traveled down 'the pages of the letter, but she was&ble to make very little of his face0 in truth, he knew that he was being watched, and so put on his niost thoroughly impassive and non-committal look. This look he carried through to the ~rcry end of the letter; but, when he lifted his eyes at last, the keen glance of the woman before him read in tl&em that she had won his belief and respect. When he spoke, his words were very, simple and characteristic: "' I am glad you did me the honor to show me this, Miss De~niopd. Without holding any such opinion of you as you have imagined that I did, I certainly was not aware of the truth asit is here told." "I did not suppose it possible that you were," she answered, "sad: I.~s.~well, I do not usually care what peop'1~ think of me, but this opportunity seemed to come without my seeking, and I took advantage of it on an im. pulse which I may possibly regret." "I hope you wilI~ not do so!" he said, quickly. "I hope you do not think so poorly of sue as to imagine that I misunderstand in the least, or could make any use w1~ieh you would disapprove of the contents of this letter,." "No," said she, slowly. "I think you may be honest-and honorable. The two things are not the same, you knew, and many men who arethe ~rst are not the last." "Thanks," said he, sailing "I consider page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. MRS. SANDEORD'S ADMiRATION OF NORAH. 73 that as an aniende honorable for being called 'a transparent diplomatist."' "I am not sure that you are such a very transparent diplomatist," said she, looking at him, and smiling also. "As you may have noticed, I confessed to Kate that your motive for espousing your cousin's cause-a cause which you could not have failed to suspect to be a poor one-puzzled me." "I noticed that you spoke of me in much better terms than I deserved," said he, flush. ing suddenly, "for I-I did not think very highly of ~you when I approached you last night, Miss Desmond." "I was aware of that at the time," said she, ." and therefore I appreciated your cour- tesy Rnd respect all the more." "You did not resent what lay behind those things?" "No. Why should I have resented that which was perfectly natural I"' "Most women would not stop to reason on a question of that kind." "So mntich the worse for most women, then. But 'let us return to our sheeps,' as t~e Frenchman said. Were we not talking of your motive for advocating your cousin's cause?" " You were talking of it." "Which means that you do not wish to do so?" "No," said he, "it does not mean that, for really I have no objection to telling you what my motive is and has been." "Well," said she, with frank curiosity, "wkat is it, then? You must' forgive me if I am inquisitive, but I cannot bear to be puz.~ zled." "There is no reason why you should be puzzled "-he ~eg~n, when, just at that mo. ment, they beeitme conscious that somebody outside was knocking violently on the door, and shouting in an unintelligible manner be. sides. "Another unfortunate has been caught in the storm and wants shelter, I suppose," said Norah. "We have no alternative but to let him in, have we? Really, this begins to put one in mind of an inn in a play." "Don't break down the door-.I'll open it in a minute!" shouted Max to the outsider, who certainly seemed in violent haste. He descended from the table as he spoke, and, drawing it aside, the door swung quickly back - revealing the water. proof- enveloped figure of Carl Middleton, with a broken um- brella in one hand and a bundle of wraps under the other arm. "How glad I am to find you! ~ he said, stalking breathlessly forward to Norab. "I was terribly afraid you would not be here, although the gardener swore he saw you as he passed the door an hour ago. You've no idea how anxious they all are about you at the house!' "Did you come out in all this storm to look for me?" she said. "How could you be so foolish! It is so kind of you, and so provoking of you, both at once! You will take your death in the way of a cold, and then what shall I do for a champion?" "I will never die while you need me, you may be sure. But are you confident you are not wet? Have you not been caught in the rain ~t all?" "Not at all. Not any more than if I had been sitting in my own room, where it would have been wiser to have stayed. But there is Captain Tyndale, who was even more wet than yourself when he first sought refuge here." Thus recalled to a sense of propriety, Carl turned and shook hands with Max. "I beg pardon for not speaking before," he said, "but I was so anxious about Miss Desmond-I left Leslie, firmly persuaded that she had been struck by a bolt of lightning, or knocked over by a falling tree." "I am sorry to have caused so much un. easiness," said Norah, "but it is a very good rule in life to expect the best until the worst happens. It spares one so much unnecessary annoyance." "I suggested something of that kind to Leslie," said Carl, "but she paid no,~tention to it." "We are none of us likely to be philos- ophers in an emergency," said Max. Then he walked to the door, which still remained open, and stood there, drinking in the fresh, rain-laden air. "I think your imprisonment will be at an end very ~oon, Miss Desmond," he went on. "The storm will be likely to pass as quickly as it came. Already the clouds are breaking in the west, and the worst is plainly over." His prediction was amply verified. Fifteen minutes later, Norah decidedthat it was quite possible for her to attempt to return ~o the house. Trues the ground was a literal lake, and the clouds were yet sending quick show- ers upbn it, but Carl had brought a pair of overshoes, besides a water-proof and two shawls, so she felt able to defy moisture ei- ther above or below. When she was equipped for departure, when the overshoes had been fitted on, and she had drawn the dark hood of the water-proof over her graceful head, she turned and looked at Max. "Of course you are coming too, are you not?" she said. "I believe not," he answered. "My ward- robe is at Strafford, and therefore I must turn my steps in that direction. After all, it is not very much farther to go. Good-day, Miss Desmond, and let me hope sincerely that you will not suffer any ill effects from your exposure." "That is a very stiff, disagreeable fellow," said flarl, as, having parted, they went their different ways. "L cannot understand how all those people at Rosland like him so much." "And perhaps he cannot understand why they like you so much," said Norah. "Lik. ing and disliking are arbitrary and inscrutable things at best. By~the way," said she, start- ing suddenly and speaking half to herself, "he carried my letter with him!" "Your letter!" repeated Carl, surprise and jealousy instantly appearing in mixed quantities on his face. "What the deuce, is he doing with a letter of yours? You must have takem amazing strides toward intimacy~ while you were shut up there together!" "You forget that we are old friends," said she, maliciously. "And, after all, the letter does not matter, being of little or no importance.~~ CHAPTER XIII. "Let the world roll blindly on! Give me shadow, give me sun, And a perfumed day as this is: Let me lie, Dreamfully, When the last quick sunbeams shiver Spears of light across the river, And a breeze which seems the sigh Of a fairy floating by, Voyly kisses Tender leaf and feathered grasses; Yet so soft its breathing passes, These tall fernejust glimmering o'er me, Blending goldenly before me, Hardly quIver!" "How beautiful your sister is, my dear I "' said Mrs. Sandford, enthusiastically. "You I can't imagine how much I am charmed with her!" "Yes, Norah is certainly very beautiful !" said Leslie. "I am glad you like her. She is very attractive, too, I think, although her manner may strike you at first as a little cold-" "Oh, no, no-only dignified, and reserved, and delightful." "-But, after a while, you will see that it is only manner. I do not think that she is cold herself." "Well, now, do you know I rather like cold people," said Mrs. Sandt'ord, opening her blue eyes very wide indeed. "I am so warm - hearted, so outspoken, so impulsive myself, that I admire and really envy people like Miss Desmond, who are always self-con- tuined, always say and do the right thing, and never possibly commit themselves to any thing wrong." I hope Norah does not deserve quite such high praise as that," said Leslie. "So great an amount of perfection would be unin- teresting." "She is charming," repeated Mrs. Sand- ford-" really charming! I assure you that I have fallen quite in love with her!" This assurance wars given on the morning after the volatile lady's arrival at Rosland. Breakfast being over, she found herself for a few minutes alone with Miss Orahame in the drawing-room, and it was impossible to allow these few minutes to pass without going into raptures over such a convenient and tempting subject for raptures as Miss Desmond. Les- lie, who understood her guest very well, was not at all surprised. "Norah would be flattered if she knew how well she had impressed you," she said, moving back a few paces, to see if some flow- ers she had been arranging stood well in the vase. "She is not exactly the kind of woman whom other women usually like." "Because she is so beautiful, I suppose," said Mrs. Sandford. "But, then, I never was jealous in my Iife.-never! My greatest friends have always been among beautiful women." "You have never had any need for jeal- ousy," said Leslie: it was impossible in com. mon courtesy to say less. But then she changed the subject-paying and receiving compliments being very little to her taste. "Come and tell me if you do not think this page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 A DAUC~HTER OF~ BOHEMIA. THE TYNDALES' HOME. vase iS well arranged," she said, "and look what lovely sofrano-buds these are 1" While Mrs, Sandford was going into rap- tures over the vane and over the sofrano-buds, Uarl entered the room, looking rather out of humor. "Have you given up the fishing expedi- tion, Leslie?" he inquired. "I heard you promise Tyndale last night that we would be over there early this morning, but I don't see any movement that way, and the sun is get. ting higher and hotter every minute." "I ordered the carriage when we left the bk'eakfast-table," Leslie answered, "and I was only waiting until it came round, to propose that we should put on our hats." "The carriage!" repeated he, in a tone of disgust. "Why did you not order thq phaeton for Mrs. Sandford and yourself, and let Miss Desmond go with me on horse- back?" "Because Norah declined such an arrange- mont, saying that her habit would be too much in the way at Stratford." "Mrs. Middleton is not going with us, then?" said Mrs. Saudford, turning round from the roses. "No; she is not fond of damp grass, and she thinks that you will be chaperone enough for the party," answered Leslie, smiling. "How absurd it seems to talk of m~i being a chaperone at all," said the pretty widow, with a silvery laugh-so even that ill-natured people averred it had been practiced at the key-board. "I never can repress ray amuse- inent at the idea !-..One feti.s so young, Mr. Middleton, even after one has ceased to be ex- actly young." "If feeling follows appearance, I can well' imagine that you might fancy yourself six- teen," Said Carl, paying with only tolerable grace the tribute which was plainly expected from him. "The French say that, in the matter ~f age, a woman is what she looks," said Leslie, coming to his reliaf.-" Carl, what do you think of going to inquire if the carriage is not coming to the door to-day?" Ten minutes later, the carriage drove to the door, and the ladies in linen dresses- dresses not likely to be injured by mud or water-and becoming sailor-hats were assem- bled on the veranda. Mrs. Middleton, pro- vided with a fan and a novel, and established in a comfortable wicker-chair, looked at them with compassionate surprise. It was a dis- pensation of Providence, she thought, that young people required amusement-but what amusement was to be found in driving two or three miles for the purpose of spending the day on damp grass and in wet boats, with a scorching sun overhead, when they might have staid in a cool house or on a shaded lawn, and taken life ,easily, she was unable to im- agine. "You think you will not be back to luncheon?" she asked, in a tone which plain. ly said, "If you are wise, you will be." "Oh, no," Leslie answered, turning on the steps, while Carl assisted Mrs. Sandford and Miss Desmond into the carriage. "I prom. ised Arthur that we would certainly take luncheon at Stratford. We shall be back in time for dinner, but not before." "Very well," said Mrs~Middleton. "I am sure I hope you will have a pleasant day, but I do not think the rain has tempered the heat at all, and in shady places you will be likely to find it very damp, indeed." "Aunt Mildred is evidently of the opinion that our prospects of enjoyment are not very brilliant," said Leslie, after they had driven off. "'As a general rule, I agree with her in thinking that al-fresco parties are mostly fail- ures-but occasionally they are pleasant." "Chiefly when they are impromptu," said Carl. "Rarely ever when they have been talked over and arranged." "This one is impromptu, is it not?" asked Mrs. Sandford. "Partly so; enough, perhaps, 'to i'~sure its being moderately pleasant,"' answered he. "Plans of the kind, however, ought to be car- ried out when they are perfectly fresh. To defer their execution is like waiting five min- utes to drink a glass of soda-water." "You ought.to be very glad that it was not carried out yesterday," said Norah. "Fancy having been caught without shelter in that storm of wind and rain l" "I am glad you waited till to-day on my account," said Mrs. Sandford. "I shall be so glad to see Strafford! I have heard so much of it from my cousins! And then there is Captain Tyndale. I shall really be very glad to see Aim, though Ithink 'he might have been civil enough to come over to Rosland and see me last night." ~'IIe did not know that you 'were expee't- ed" said Leslie. "Oh, that accounts for it, then "said she, with the air of one who accepts a satisfactory explanation. "He was at my house so eon- stsntl~~ before he left the city, and we made so many plans for seeing a great deal of each other down here, that I thought his absence very strange last night. It is certainly very pleasant," she added, with a laugh. "Do you know, Leslie, that it is town.tnlk in Alton that I am engaged to him?" "Is it, indeed?" said Leslie. "No, I should never have suspected such a thing." "I tell my friends that they are really quite absurd," said Mrs. Sandford, shrugging her shoulders. "They engage me 'to a new man every m6nth, though I have said again and again that I have not the faintest idea of marrying cmy~ody for at least five years to come! One can do as one pleases when one is a widow, which is considerably more than one can do as a wife; and, therefore, I find it a great deal pleasanter than having a jealous husband to worry one." "But husbands are not necessarily jeal- ous," suggested Carl. "Indeed, I don't trust any of them not to be," said she, and it was evident that she meant it; "I don't trust any of them not to be jealous of me! '~' "Of course I bow to your superior kuowi. edge," said he. "It is certainly based on a much more extended experience than I can boast." In such instructive and entertaining con- versation the drive passed. It was a greater distance to Strafford by the high~road than by the short cut across the fields whioh Arthur and Max chiefly affected, but before long they saw the tall chimneys and brown gables of the house showing through the green foliage of the park. The nooks and dells of the latter were full of more than usual beauty as the early sunlight slanted across the wet grass and through the mighty branches of the great oaks, throwing entrancing shadows on the turf. It was not oaks alone, however, which filled the park. There was scarcely one of the magnificent variety of Southern shade- trees which was not represented, with bosky depths of copse-like shrubbery intermixed. Every thing was as green und still as an enchanted forest, every thing was glitter- ing yet with the rain of the day be.foro, and every thing, even to the moss - grown palings, bore eloquent witness that this home of the Tyndales was not a place of yester- day~ That it wasa beautiful place no one could deny. They all said so with one accord as they entered the wide gates mid drove to the front of the house, where Arthur and Max were standing in the shade of the stone por- tico waiting for them. When the carriage stopped, the former stepped forward, looking iwen more hands~ine and 'high-bred than usual. Perhaps it was the consciousness of standing on his own threshold which helped him to a new dignity and courtesy of manner. Cer- tainly it is a consciousness which cannot fail to have its effect upon any man who is not hopelessly parvenu in blood and sentiment. Next the door, which he opened, sat Mrs.. Sandford and Leslie, who naturally descended first, and, while they were being assisted to the ground, Torah said, in her quick, izape~ rious way, to Carl: "Open the other door, and let me out. It is not necessary to wait on them, is it?" "Not in the least," he answered; and, im. mediately wrenching the door open, he sprang out and extended his hand to her. As she was about to take it, Tyndale spoke' quickly, having deposited Leslie on the ground, and turning his back on Mrs. Sandford, who was greeting Max with an enthusiastic ripple of words and laughter. "Take care, Miss Desmoud, there is a great deal of mud on that side. Let me as- sist you out here." But Norah had already given her hand to Carl, and, before he finished speaking, she was on the ground, with the slight .m~sadven- ture of brushing her dress against a muddy wheel, and stepping deep with one kid boot in the soft loam. "Look I" she said, holding out her foot t~ Carl. "Is it not a pity?" "Let me 'take it off," said he, and, stoop- ing, he drew out an immaculate white.eambrie handkerchief for the purpose. "Don't be absurd, Sir Walter Raleigh," said she, drawing back the foot with a laugh. "Mud is more appropriate to shoes than to handkerchiefs, if it must be on one ~r the other. It is a small penalty to ;pa~ for es- caping the necessity of having my baud touched by Aim I" she added, in a lower tone. After this they passed into the house, where Mrs. Sandford went into a rapture of b page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] A FISHING EXCURSION . 76 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. admiration over the fine Qid hall, with it~ carved oaken staircase, its paneled walls, its family portraits, and antlered stag - heads which had gazed serenely down for many a long day since that by-gone time when they had looked their last on the fair greenwood, with its dewy coverts, its tangled depths, and gleams of summer shade and sheen. They lingered for a little while in the pleasant, old - fashioned drawing - room - so lofty, spacious, and softly toned, that it did not look as if heat could ever invade it. On the green terrace without, deep, cool shadows were lying. It seemed impossible to imaging a scene more suggestive of repose. "One might almost forget that there was such a thing as time in a place like this 1" said Carl, following Norah, who, after a while, walked to the end of the room~to look at a statue. "There seems -a sort of dreamy stillness in the very atmosphere. I should call it- stagnation, but some people - Mr. Tennyson's lotos.eaters, for example-might like it extremely, I dare say." "It is more a melancholy than a dreamy stillness," answered she. "One feels that life has lohg been absent from these rooms. Do you know that I am enough of a barba- rian to prefer a new house to an old one?" sdded she, suddenly. "An old house al. ways seems to me peopled with ghosts. I am sure that lady, for example "-turning her back on the marble Psyche, and pointing to a faded beauty in the costume of fifty or sixty years before-" comes1down and walks the floor at night in her satifi and pearls." "You, don't mean that you believe~ in ghosts?" "One believes in what one has seen gen. orally. I saw a ghost once." "Indeed!" - laughing and arching his brows. "Pray when and where was it?" "Ask in a tone of faith, and perhaps I may tell you." "But I thought faith was to come after. ward "-he began, when at that moment Ar- * thur Tyndale advanced down the room tow. ard them. "Leslie says that she thinks we had bet- ter go to the lake now," he said, address. ing Norah, with rather a deprecating look in his violet eyes. "That is - if you are ready." - "I am quite ready," she answered, with careless coldness. Then she turned to Carl. "If you will promise to be quite credulous, I will tell you all about it," she said. What the "it" was, Tyndale, of course, did not know; but he did know that she wished to show him in this way, as in every other, that his intercourse with her was to be restricted to the narrowest possible limits. Turning, she walked down the room with Middleton, and he had no alternative but to follow at some distance behind them. They found Leslie, Mrs. Sandford, and Max, waiting on the terrace outside-a ser- vant in attendance laden with fishing-gear. "If we are to go at all, I think we had better go at once," the former said; and so they set forth. Their way lay across the park, under its green shade, across its fresh, fragrant grass. The earth and air seemed asked clean by the late rain; the former exhaling a sweet, moist odor, the latter clear and bright as crystal, with a buoyancy in it different indeed from the sultry heat of the days that had gone be- fore. The air was full of soft, woodland sounds-a ringing echo of the rejoicing mirth of every bird and insect. The sky was the tenderest sapphire, crossed by a few fleecy clouds, and the distant, violet hills gtood out clearly, unrelieved by the faintest drapery of haze. Before long they came to the lake a transparent, winding sheet of water, on the farther side of which rose the slender stems of pines, with delicate, spear-like crests, out- lined like pencil tracery against the clear, blue heavens. On -the side where they stood were many nooks and inlets, shadowed over by drooping trees, and made more beautiful by the broad green leaves and pure white blossoms of the water-lily. "Is it not pretty?" said Leslie, turning to Norah. "Of course, it is only an artificial sheet of water, but it has been seventy years since it was made-has it not, Arthur ?-nnd so we may fairly suppose that- it has forgot. ten by this time that it is not quite uatn- ral." - "Nobody would ever suspect that it was artificial," said Norah, "It is very pretty indeed."' But in this as in every thing else, she seemed to avoid saying very much about the beauties of Strafford, thinking, perhaps, that from her lips such praise might sound like regret. Then each lady's line was arranged by her attendant cavalier, and, having estab- lished themselves-two-and-two-at different points along th~ shore, they proceeded to fish. As might reasonably and safely have been predicted, however, the fishing came to very little. Patience and silence are, as a general rule, two absolute requisites for success in this sport, and neither of these virtues is likely to be displayed in eminent degree by a pair of young people, i~ho, being more or less in love, or more or less inclined to flirt with each other, aresitting side by side in a green nook, with limpid water at their feet, a blue sky overhead, and the whole glory of a mid- summer day around. Max, ~ho was the best angler of the party, contrived to catch a fish or two, despite his companion's unceasing chatter but Norah was the only one of the feminine trio who had any success. Instead of displaying exultation, however, it must be recorded of her that she was sufficiently weak-minded to insist that Carl should throw the gasping trout back into its native ele- ment. "It is mine! I will do as I please with it I" she said, authoritatively, when he de- murred. "If you will not- throw it back, I can call Albert" (this was the servant) "to do it. I shall never again impale a poor creature upon a hook and draw it out of the water to die." So the trout was thrown back, to Albert's great disgust, and Miss Desmond pronounced her fishing over for the day. "It is too beau- tiful to do any thing more than be merely idle 1" she' said, 'leaning back against the great brown trunk of a water-oak, and tilting her hat over her brow, low enough to keep the sun out of her eyes, but not low enough to shut out a view of the level expanse of water, the curving shore, and the dark, sol- emn pines,' whence now and then the breeze brought whiffs of that spicy, aromatic odor familiar' to the nostrils of all those who have ever lived in a pine-region. After a while, however, she grew weary of quiescence, and, rising, sauntered away, re- fusing absolutely to allow Carl to accompany her, "Stay where you are, and catch my fish again~If you can," she-said, a little mock- ingly. "As for me, I am tired of society just now, and I want a little solitude." "Tired of your society," would have been the true rendition of that sentence, if poor Carl had only known it; but the 8tars will fall indeed when it begins - to enter the re-- motest conception of a man in love that his so~ ciety can possibly ever bore the woman with whom he is in love. So Miss Desmond wandered away into solitude, farther and farther from the group she had left behind, front the sound of Mrs. Sandford's theatrical little scream every time Captain Tyndale drew forth a fish, from Les- lie's pleasant, ringing laugh, from Arthur- talking to Oarl and Carl talking back to Ar- thur, each out of his own leafy covert-wan- dered aimlessly on and on, plucking absently at a water-lily which Carl had procured for her at the imminent risk of a plunge-bath..-- thinking, meanwhile, thoughts neither very sweet nor very bitter, but simply grave, if it were possible to judge by the expression of her face. - After a while she came to a nook so pret- ty that it involuntarily tempted her to pause. The shore rounded just here into a mimic bay, the green turf sloped softly down to the water's edge, and, under the silvery branches of a willow that bent until it touched the lake, a little skiff was lying, with the oars across it. At this Norah looked, with desire in her eyes; but it had been many a long day since she l~iad handled an oar, and she had a great dis- like to trouble, added to a still greater dis~ like of making herself ridiculous. "Better never do a thing at all than not do it well,"' was her motto-a motto which she faithfully observed, for she never did attempt to do any thing at all unless 'she was sure of being able- to do it well. Hence, in the present instance, she contented herself with sitting down on the grass and throwing a longing glance at the boat lying ~so restfully under the willow. She was almost sorry now that she had not allowed Carl to come with her-" except that I am so horribly tired of him," she said, aloud, throwing' a tiny pebble into the water with a plash. " So' horribly tired of whom?" asked a voice over her head; and then, as she start- ed and looked up, Max Tyndale added "I beg' pardon, Miss Desmond. should not have answered your remark, only the tempta- tion wtt~ great." - "The temptation to play eavesdropper?" - asked she, haughtily. "But, then, people- who soliloquize in the open air must expect eavesdroppers, I suppose. It seems to me, page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] A DAUGHTIIIR O1~' BOHEMIA. ON THE LAKE. 79 Captaitt Tyndale," she added, in a different tone, "thai you are always begging my par- don about something or other." "Yott mean, perhaps, that I am always doing something for which I need to beg your pardon.? "' "Perhaps that is it. For example, what are you doing here now? I came away to en- joy ssydelce far nisnte; and I did not imagine that th~ whole party would soon be following 'I Sue. "Am I the whole party? It has really struck me that I am only one, and an insig- niflca~stmemhe!of it" "It ~.s easier to fancy that the whole party are cowing' than that you have come alone, unless, like myself~ you are in search of the twin reads, silence and solitude." "I am afraid that you are the only 9read whom I can honestly plead guilty of being in search of," "And, may I ask, why are you in search of me?" "I answer in the words of Katharine to Petruehio,,' I am scat to bid you come in to dinner '----or rather to luncheon." "It is a pity to leave out any thing so ap- propriate as the first part of that sentence. Why arc you not honest enough to quote in full~ and say, 'Against my will, I am sent to bW yen come in to dinner?"' '~ ~imply because it was not against my wl~"ftuswered he. "I not only Insisted upon C9IISing, ~but I bore off the palm from Middle- teti, who was anxious to be sent on the same errand."' "Hose very tired you must have grown of Mi's. Sa.udford 12' said she; then, as he flushed, she laughed. "Confess that being bored was the secret of your anxiety to corae-if, in- deed, you were anxious." "Well, yes, I confess that was it," said hs, laughing in turn, but emulating her frank. ness with remarkable ease. "Mrs. Sandford is a very pleasant person, and one who dces rae the honor of professing to be a friend of mine; 'but still, a whole morning spent in her society is--.is-.---" Here he paused. "...-Is rather exhausting, I should think," said Mis.s Desniond. "I found an hour of it a great deal too much for me last night." "Yet she speaks west enthusiastically of you." "Does she? Tlrst in very good of her, especially since I em unable to return any of the compliments she way have paid me.~ ." I confess that I like, to hear a woman speak pleasantly of other women," said Cap- tain Tyndale He was leaning back against a tree, and looking meditatively at the charm- ing picture which the beautiful woman, be. fore him wade. "It shows amiability, at least." "Do you think so? Knowledge of wom- en is your special Ar~e, is it not, Captain Tyndale?" * "Very far fr-em it," answered he. "I sm old-fashioned enough to credit women with a great many wore virtues than they-than many of them, that is-seem to care to be credited with at present." "I don't \think any woman of sense likes' to be set up on a pedestal, with a label of conventional virtues attached," said she. "We are what God has wade us-a subtle mixture of good and bad, of sense and folly. But we are nothing if we are not sincere. Now, a woman like Mrs. Sand.ford, with only honey on her lips, is not sincere.~~ "You mean, I suppose, that 'who dare not censure, scarce can praise?"' "I mean that praise which is given indis~ criminately is worth nothing.-~--execpt to show the weakness or falsity of the speaker. You look shocked! See how you men are shocked if you hear a woman speak truth once in a way2' "I cannot think that it is truth, Miss Des- wend- I cannot believe that amiability al- ways means weakness or falsity." "And I never said or implied any thing of the kind. But you are one of the urea who will live and die worshiping an ideal, un- less, indeed, you have the misfortune to mar- ry it2' "And then?" "Oh, well, thenyon will find that gall is occasionally mixed with the honey." "Shall I?" said he, a little dreamily. It is likely that he was not thinking of Mrs. Sandferd, as he passed his hand half absently acroSs the red mark wbieh the straw hat in his hand had' left on his forehead. "But there are some women who have no gall in their nature," said he, "When you find such a woman, you may reasonably hope that a century hence her name will take its place in the calendar of the Church." - "How can you be so incredulous of good in your own sex I" said he, almost sharply. "I am not ia~rcdulous of good, hut of perfection. Besides, you sh~uId remember that my experience of life has not been fa- vorable to seeing much of the qualities which you laud in my own sex~ Few women have honey on their lips for a beautiful Bohemian like myself. Such fr-lends as I have made in my life-and they are few enough, God knows! -have all been men." "All, Miss Desmond?" "All except the nuns of a convent in which I once spent a few months, and ac- quired all the education and all the religion that I possess." She spoke half defiantly, as if to say, "See and know the worst of me!" but Max' made no reply. He was not at all shocked- for few things are able to shock a. man who has seen much of the world-but he thought how. different this woman was from any wom- an whom he could possibly admire or love. Beautiful though she was-beautiful with a glory of flesh aud blood rarely equaled-her Bohemian defiance and recklessness con. damned her utterly in his eyes. Again he compared her with Leslie-thereby ignoring the different circumstances that had made the different women what they were - and tried to fancy that graceful embodiment of all wom- anly gentleness denying the good in her own sex, and openly proclaiming the fact that all her friends were men! While he was trying to do this, and failing utterly, Norab's voice roused him-a 'toice, with that tone of mock- ery in it, which, of all her tones, was most distasteful to his ear. "Now that I have thoroughly shocked you, Captain Tyndale, and showed you how entirely I belong t~ the life in which Iwas born and reared, I will let you go to luncheon. Don't trouble about we. I will come after a while when I feel like it. Just now, I don't feel like it in the least. 'I am comfortable and lazy.~~ "So am I," said he, "and therefore, if you will be good enough to let use stay-" "Let you stay! But are you not hungry? Men always are hungry." "I don't think they always are-at least, tam sure 'that I am not, just at present." "I see that you are afraid of Mrs. Sand- ford," said sire. "Honey clogs after a time, even on the palates of' those who like it. But you may stay on one condition-.-.-that you will take rue out on the water in that charming little boat under the willow there." "I will take you with pleasure, if you care to go, but are you not afraid of the sun? Arthur decided not to propose boating until this afternoon." "The sun can do nothing but tan me a littIe~ and that I am not afraid of'. But, if you object to the exertion-.--" "I object to the exertion? I'll have the boat out in a minute, and take you round the lake, if you care to go." -4--- CHAPTER XIV. "The day so mild Is Heaven's own child, With Eartlrpnd Ocean reconciled; The airs I feel Around me steal Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. "Over the rail My hand I trail Within the shadow of the sail, Ajoy Intense, The cooling sense Glides down my drowsy Indolence." "An, how delightful! "said Norab. "Could any thing possibly be more pleasant?" It was the first genuine expression of pleasure which she had uttered at Strafford, and seemed drawn from her involuntarily, as she found herself floating on the still bosom of the lake, with the golden noonday lying all around her, and a breeze, which had just then sprung up, bringing spicy wafts of pine. land fragrance over them. "It is pleasant," said Max-." pleasanter then I thought it would be! If we coast along in the shade, we shall not suffer from heat at all, and we can go to the bead of the lake if you like." "If I like!" repeated she. "If you leave the question of how far we shall go to we, I warn you that I shall be likely to have no mercy on your arms. I can imagine nothing more delightful than the lulling charm of this gliding motion." "You ~poke of doles far rriente a little while ago," said he, pullin~ along with the easy skill ofa practiced. oarsman. "This is' the perfection of ib-.---to float dreamily along us a boat is even more suggestive of repose on such a day and under such a sky as this, page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. A MANY-SIDED CHARACTER. 81 than to lie on the grass under the shadow of a tree." "So I think; and yet you did not want to come!', "Pardon me-I only wanted to warn* you that you would be likely to find the sun very warm." "I am not afraid of the sun. I have lived mostof my life in the south of Europe, where people love and enjoy it." "But where they also understand how and when to keep out of it. For stillness and repose, commend me to a high-noon in Italy or Spain." "And yet how you see the fishermen and lazzaroni basking ia that very high-noon! I have seen it often, and wished that I were one of them." "What a lucky thing that our wishes are not always gratified, isn't it?" "I am not sure of that. With regard to my wish, for instance, I envied the lazzaroni, because they are so entirely contented with life, and all that life has given them. I know no other class of people who are half so well satisfied. I have never, to my knowledge, envied a duke or duchess, but I have often envied the beggar curled up in a palace door- way. We Bohemians are next to them in devil-may-care recklessness, and indifference to all save the passing hour; but we lack the sublime philosophy and trust of our poor re- lation on a Neapolitan door-step." "Your poor relation may have a sublime trust, but he has also a keen eye to the chance of a penny.~~ "So have we - a keen eye to whatever may advantage us, a keen sense of all the lib- e~ty, pleasure, and respect, that flows from money. I know, for instance, exactly how much it would take to live like a gs-and~e dame in Paris; and I confess I should like as well to try the experiment as our poor relation likes macaroni on a fete day." "I should think your life in Paris would not be difficult to compass," said he, looking at the beautiful face before him. "Women, with fewer advantages than yours, have often made brilliant marriages." "Women, with less beauty and less clev- erness, perhaps ±ou mean," answered he, coolly. "Those are trump cards, and sure to win when one's position in life s~port~them -otherwise they only secure for tlt~ir pos- sessor attention and admiration little removed from insult. The beauty and wit of a vagrant are of small account in the respectable world, Captain Tyndale. I learned that by the time I was fifteen." "You seem to have learned a great many hard lessons for one so young." "A street Arab generally learns a little more of life than a mother's darling in his nursery at home." "And you-?" "I have been one of the Arabs of civiliza- tion ever since I was born. You would laugh if you knew how strange the life in which I find myself here seems to me. Its ease, its luxury, its comfort, are literally incredible. I find myself expecting all the time some jar of the wheels, some proof of sordid care, of debt and trouble and want of money, behind the scenes." "What a life you must have lived!" "And yet it has been a freer and happier one than many you would hold enviable by the side of it. We know how to enjoy our. selves iii Bohemia; in the worst weather we know how to keep. 'on the windy side of care;' and, when we do have any money, we know how to spend it royally!" - "I am aware of that," said lie, laughing. "And, although I have sometimes felt as if I would give any thing to hold some definite position in lire," said she, trailing Carl's lily slowly through the water," as if I would like to stand no longer in an attitude of defiance to society, yet I know that I could not endure the bondage and stagnation of ordinary re- spectable existence-of your ideal woman's existence, for example - for an hour! I should pine as the lion which Girard brought from the desert, pined in his cage, in the Jar. din des Plantes." "Then you mean to live and die a Bohe- mian?" "I mean to do nothing save take life as it comes-as I am taking it to-day. Look up at that sky, Captain Tyndale-it is beautiful enough for Italy! And see how the green boughs go across it! Ah, i~s something to be alive on such a day as this-just to be alive! One need not wish or ask for any thing more!', She threw her head back and looked up- ward, the flickering shadows falling lovingly across the white arch of her throat and the rounded outlines of her form. The attitude was as free from affectation or self-conscious. ness as that of a child, and yet graceful as that of the most thoroughly-trained actress. She seemed reveling, as she had said, in the simple ~ensuousness of existence-a nature full of vitality and keenly alive to beauty, thrilling with the full pulse of life, ~ steeped to the lips in the golden charm the summer day. Max looked at her criti- cally. After all, he could not wonder that Arthur had loved this woman with a passion greater than any which he had given to Les- lie Grahame. She was eminently the kind of woman to fascinate a man of Arthur's stamp, Captain Tyndale decided - a woman with moods like a chameleon, a woman who could be simple as a child one moment, and impe- rious as a queen the next-yet who might, perhaps, fascinate even while she puzzled, annoyed, and repulsed. "But it would fare ill with any man who tied his heart-strings to he~- rudder!" he thought, going back in imagi- nation to that "serpent of old Nile" whose infinite variety age could not wither nor cus- tom stale. In truth, even Captain Tyndale's cool judgment began to find itself a little at fault with this "beautiful Bohemian," us she called herself. She had already shown him so many different sides of her character, that he began to wonder which was the real one- or if, indeed, there were a real one! As fast as he felt an inclination to like or admire her, she shocked and disconcerted him; as soon as he detected a trace of womanly gentleness, it turned into haut~ar or mockery. "What the deuce am I to do?" thought be, medi- tatively. It may be imagined, perhaps, that there was no very incumbent necessity upon him to do any thing, as far as Miss Pesmond and her peculiarities of manner and character were concerned; but the "martial diplo- mate," as she called him, thought otherwise. He could not forget that he had solemnly promised to obtain, if possible, some assur- ance of what she meant to do, and he could not forget, either, that this assurance was as yet entirely unobtained. In the morning Arthur had reminded him of this fact. "You will have an opportunity to see Norah alone to-day, Max," he said. "For Heaven's sake, try and draw something definite from her!" iThw, with Mrs. Sandford and Carl Middleton in the background, Max knew perfectly well that the present was the only opportunity for seeing Norah alone, and therefore he was 6 naturally anxious to make the most of it, and open his important negotiation at once. But how to do it? That was the question. It was a question which dwelt on his mind not a little, as he rowed along in the perfect stillness of the noonday, under the drooping shadow of the trees that lined the shore, past the tiny, curving bays and inlets, and finally around a point which opened to them a different part of the lake altogether- a part more beautiful than any they had seen before, Norah thought, as she looked at the crystal water stretching away, until it seemed to vanish in the depths of a green, shadowy forest which fringed it at the upper end, such a forest as those who have never seen South- ern forest-growth, especially in the vicinity of water, cannot even imagine. - "The tropics must be like this, I ima- gine l" said she, pointing to the broad-leaved water-plants around, and the indescribable blending of color in the foliage and under- growth beyond. "How much more beauti- ful than the park, for we are past the park now, are we not?" "Entirely past it" "And does tizis"-iadicating with a mo- tion of her hand the magnificent verdure be- fore them-" does tide belong to Arthur Tyn- dale, also?" "Every rod of ground around us belongs to him." "I am sorry!" said she. "Oh, not ~orry that he is rich!" she added, quickly, as she met Max's glance. "That is not a matter of the least importance. I only meant that I am sorry there is no breathing-place for me even in those beautiful woods, for I cannot breathe freely on Arthur Tyndale's ground." "Do you hate him so much, Miss Des- mond?" "Hate him!" She turned her full, brill- iant glance on him. "No, Captain Tyndale, I do not 'hate him' in the icast." "Why, then-" he began, but seemed to think better of the question, and paused. She finished it for him with the impetu- osity to which he had by this time become a little accustomed. "Why, then, do I feel that I cannot breathe in his house or on his lafids? Simply because I scorn the man, with a scorn which I cannot express to you, and because I scorn myself not a little for being here to-day, for playing, or seeming to play, a part which degrades me!" p. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 4 82 A DAUGHTER Max saw his oppoTtunity and seized it at once-despite the quick passion that lit up her mobile features at the last words. "Will you allow me to ask why you do play it, then?" he said. "Because I choose to do so," she an- swered, curtly. After this there was naturally nothing more to be said. Captain Tyndale devoted himself in silence to his oars; Miss Desmond still trailed Carl's lily through the ~ater, and was silent also. They had proceeded some distance, and were floating rather than row- ing past a shore along which tangled vines, with starry leaves and brilliant crimson flow- ers, were running i~i many trailing loops and graceful festoons, when Norah spoke again -abruptly: "That was ver.j rude-that last speech of mine! I might have told you civilly, at least, that I choose to keep my affairs to my- self~ might I not?" "I have no right to quarrel with the in- civility of your reply, Miss Desmond; my question drew it on myself." "You always contrive to blame yourself, Captain Tyndale. Are you very amiable or very hypocritical?" "Neither, I think-I never take blame to myself when I do not honestly believe that I deserve it." She laughed; and, throwing the lily care- IessI~' away, plunged her white, gleaming hand into the water instead. "How pleasant. I" she said. "Who would not be a naiad, if she could!" Then, abruptly: "But you have taken blame to yourself once or twice when it wss 1 who de- served it." "Was it? I think you must be mistaken. I am not enough of a preux chevalier to be ever gallant for the mere sake of gallantry." "You puzzle me a little," said she, look- ing at him with inquisitive eyes. "I never met a man exactly like you before-and that is something unusual in my experience. Most men are alike on all general points." "In what particular have I struck you as unlike other men?" asked he, looking in- tently at the beautiful face, on which the. broad light of noonday fell, showing every delicate tint and perfect curve. "Well, for one thing," said she, candidly, "most men lose their heads in talking to me. You have not done so." OF BOHEMIA. "I prefer to keep my head under all cir- cumstances," said he, coolly. "It is more convenient. Men who lose their heads lose every advantage that skill or chance can give them. I prefer to take all of mine." "Soshouldl; ifiwereaman!" "And, although you ar~ a very beautiful woman, Miss Desmond, you are' not a wom- an-" "Finish your sentence," said she, quietly, as he paused. "Say that I am not a woman whom you admire.~~ "You credit me with more impertinence and less taste than I deserve," answered he. "Should I have been likely to have remem- bered your face, as I saw it in Paris two years ago, if I had not admired it? No; if I had finished my sentence, I should have said that you are not a woman whom a wise man would allow to deprive him of his head or of his heart." "Wise men sometimes do very foolish ~things," said she, looking at her hand as it lay idly under the water. "They sometimes put their heads and their hearts into the hands of a fool, and that is worse than put- ting them into the hands of-you may char- acterize me, if you choose, Captain Tyn- dale." "Shall I say, then-of a beautiful woman who is trying to believe that she has no heart?" A "You a~i~perti~ent!" said she, sud- denly turning h~r face round, and flashing an eloquent glance of anger upon him. "I beg your pardon. I see that one is never safe, under any circumstances, in tnk- ing a woman at her word." "You might have called me a Bohemian adventuress, or a fast flirt, and I should not have cared." "As far as I can venture to judge, how- ever, you are neither of those things." "But to say that I-lam 'trying to be- lieve' that I have no heart!" "It would have been wiser not to say it, perhaps." "What should I do with a heart, if I had it?" asked she, with a low, scornful laugh. "Let another man amuse himself with it as long as he likes, and then throw it away to harden or break as it pleases ? ~' "Before you could ask such a question, Miss Desmond, you must have forgotten that there are men of honor in the World." EXPLANATORY CONVERSATION~ "Men of honor to women of assured position in life, very likely," said she, dryly. "Men who would hold themselves bound by their plighted word if it were given to one of the lazzaroni of whom you spoke a little while ago," said he, almost sternly. She shrugged her shoulders. "We need not discuss the subject. You believe in the general honeyed nature of women - Bohemian women excepted - from your experience. I believe in the general lax ideas of honor in men from my experience. We all look at the world from a one-sided point of view. It is a thing which cannot be helped, I suppose." "In our cynical moments most of us are apt to look very gloomily on human nature,?' said he; "but sometimes human nature pro~1es itself better than we expected-more generous, more faithful, more worthy of trust. Miss Desmond, that is a riddle. Will you read it?" "I never read a riddle in my life, Captain Tyndale." "Then, in plain words," said he, quickly, "I should like to think that you will prove more generous than any one-than Arthur Tyndale, least of all-has a right to expect that you will be!" "Ah~ said she, looking at him with a sudden keen glance, "you have taken u~ your r6le of devil's advocate again, have you? By-the-by, this reminds me thatr when we were interrupted yesterday afternoon, you were about to tell me what was your motive for espousing your cousins cause and giving him the invaluable aid of your diplomatic talent. We are not likely to be interrupted here, so you can tell me now." "I have no objection to doing so," said he. "My motive for desiring to serve Ar- thur is partly on account of my friendship ?or him, but more particularly and principally on account of your sister." "On account ~f my sister!" "Yes," said he, steadily, although he felt with vexation that the keen eyes bent upon him were noting a sudden flush which showed itself through his bronzed skin. "I saw long age-I mean months ago-that her happiness is wholly bound up in Arthur, and that, if her trust in him is once broken, it-~it will be a terrible blow to her." Captain Tyndale felt that he had fallen into the depths of abject commonplace in this speech; but he would have been a brave man and a fluent man who could have held his thoughts and his tongue under propercon- trol with the lustrous challenge of Norali Des- mond's glance bent upon him. Max felt his ideas and his words alike forsaking him when he suddenly remembered that the "terrible blow" which he deprecated for Leslie had al- ready fallen on her. "So you think that Leslie's happiness is 'bound up' in Mr. Tyndale 1" she said, as he paused-an incisive coolness in her voice striking unpleasantly on his ear. "I should have given her credit for being more of a woman of the world, and looking at things from a more worldly and philosophical point of view." "Then you must pardon me if I say that you understand her very little," said he, bend- ing with sudden energy to his oars. "I have imagined that her engagement to Mr. Tyndale is much such'an engagement as is often made in society-convenience amply consulted on both sides," she added, 'after a short pause. "It is impossible, Miss Desmond!" he said, indignantly. "You could not have known your sister for an hour, and done her *so much injustice." "Injustice! Is that injustice? I know so little of your world that you must for- give* me. I really thought it was high praise." "You arc m6cking both her and me," he said, after a minute. "Since I have brought it on myself, I suppose~ I have no right to com- plain; but, if you will allow me to apologize for having opened the subject, I can safely promise never to do so again. My r6le of ad- vocate is over." "Is it?" said she, quietly-..-the mocking light vanishing from her eyes, the mocking tone from her voice. "I am glad to hear it, Captain Tyndale, for it is not a r6le that be- fits an honest man. As far as Leslie is con- cerned, however, you are right. She is as diftbrent from me as day is from night-so different that, if we lived together for fifty years, we should be no nearer any real sym- pathy for each other than we are to-day-but I see and recognize all the sweetness ftnd strength that make up her character. I see that she is engaged to Arthur Tyndale simply because she loves him; and I, who came here ,with a heart as hard against her as the nether page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. MRS. SANDFORD'S INDIGNATION. 85 millstone, have learned already to hesitate in my reprisal on iwr account." - ~' Why should your heart have been hard against her?" asked he, with point-blank di- rectness. "Why is a socialist's heart hard against the rich? Is it not because they have that which he lacks-'-.that for which he is starv- ing? So it was with me.. I had never envied Leslie the love and wealth which surrounded her-in fact, I had scarcely ever thought of her-but, when she wrote and told me that to her had fallen, also, that which had been the one bitter-sweet gift of my life-when she said that the man who had treated me in so cruel and cowardly a manner was her ac- cepted lover-well, then it would have taken some one more reasonable and more Christian than I, not to desire to make her feel a little of the bitterness which fihlcd my heart." "And so it was~that you came?" "Yes, so it was that I came-came pre- pared for any amount of patronage and con- descension, but not for one iota of the affec- tion and kindness which met me in her honest eyes." "And for her sake-for her sake alone, Miss Desmond-can you not spare Arthur Tyndale the exposure which I freely own he deserves?" "Even for her sake~ Captain Tyndale, would you advise mc to do so?" "Why should I not advise you to do so?" "Simply because you might put yourself in Leslie's place, and see whether you would thank the mistaken kindness which sent you through life holding a lie for truth, dishonor for honor, a coward for a brave man I" "But you do not look at the matter as I do," said he, earnestly. . "A4hur Tyndale is no worse than many other men who go through life safe in the loving esteem of faith- ful hearts.' He has fallen into dishonor more through weakness than intent. But this dis- honor does not touch his loyalty to your sis- ter. I~e loves her unquestionably. You think, perhaps "-as her lip curled-" that this is a consideration of little importance. lInt it is of great importance if we look at the matter as it regards her, and we are looking at it simply as it regards her, are we not? Hence we cannot afford to ignore the fact that Arthur's dishonoxi, as I said before, has not affected his loyalty to her. For the rest, I I am sure that you do not need for me to tell you that she loves him. Neither can you need for me to tell you what it would be to her to discover the position which lie holds to you. You see in all this," said he, break- ing off abruptly, "I am taking for granted that you have no feeling of-of the sort that some women would have, left for him." "I have no idea what sort of feeling some women would have left for him," said she, carelessly, "but I have none save contempt. If it were possible to cut away with a sharp knife and at any expense qf pain all that part of my life into which he entered, I would do it-simply that I might not include myself ia this contempt. Beyond that, I have no feel- ing of any kind for your cousin, Captain Tya- dale." "You can realize, however, that, to your sister, such contemptuous renunciation of what was once love, might not be so easy. 11cr pride would hold her aloof from him, but I scarcely think that her scorn would enable her to fling all need of him out of her life as you have done." "Would it not?" said Norah. Again she turned a quick, intent glance on the speaker. "I am inclined to disagree with you," she added, after a minute. "I think that if an- other man-more worthy, and loving her as well, perhaps better than Arthur Tyndale- came into her life, she would soon learn to love 1dm." "I am presumptuous enough to say that I think you are mistaken. I am sure that Miss Grahame is one of those women who are faithful by a divine instinct of Nature-faith- ful often to unworthy objects and in their own despite. Therefore it might be better fo,~ her to go through life 'holding a lie for truth' than to be overtaken by utter ship- wreck at its very beginning." "Certainly in the former case she would not fare worse than other women have before her," said Norah, cynically. "Was Satan right, after all, I wonder? Ia it 'folly to tell women truth?' Would they 'rather live on lies, so they be sweet?' One might think so from the universal practice of men. But, for mc "-she turned on him with a sudden, pas- sionate energy for which he was unprepared -" I would rather a thousand-fold be miser- able than deceived! Let any fool's paradise into which I have entered be shattered forev- er, so that the clear light of truth comes in!" "Still, can you not see that there may be eases-" "Yes, I can see that there may be cases in which your conventional ideal woman would rather be left to worship her clay idol in ignorance. But, despite your opinion' of Leslie, I think there may be better stuff in her than that, She may be brave enough to face the truth, and, if so, Captain Tyndale, on myhonor as a Christian woman, she shall have it! The choice shall rest with her- self, however, I promise you that; and here is my hand upon it!" With a sudden, graceful motion, she drew her hand, nil wet and gleaming, from the wa- ter, and held it out to him. Dripping though it was, the man would have been made of strange material who hesitated to take it; and, as Max bent forward to do so, he thought that the first sweet smile he had ever seen on the lovely lips before him was faintly curving them just then. "Thu are more generous than I ventured to hope," he said. "But promise me that in any case you will incline more to mercy than to justice." "I think you ought to be content with what you have gained, Mr. Devil's Advocate,". answered she, with the smile deepening a lit- tle. "I cannot make any rash promises, even though the hand on which ~t would be rati- fied is rather slippery!" CHAPTER XV. "How many years since she and I Walked that old terrace, hand-in-hand! Just one star in the rosy sky, And silence on the summer land. And she?... I think I hear her sing That song-the last of all our songs. How all comes back! thing after thing, The old life o'er me throngs 1" "I noN'T know what anybody else may think," said Mrs. Sandford, "but I call such conduct very fast, indeed!" The irately virtuous tone of this remark would have suited the chiefest of social Phari- sees, instead of a lady famous for willful dis- regard of all the laws and canons of proprie- ty; but, when we are angry, very few of us are strikingly consistent or logical, and Mrs. Sand. ford was as angry just then as a pretty wom- an who is fond of admiration ever becomes in the presence of a man to whom' she is not related. "I don't know exactly what constitutes fast conduct in a Chasseur d'Afrique," said Carl, who was lying at full length o~i the grass by her side, "but I think 'it is amazing- ly inconsiderate conduct in your friend Cap- tain Max," "You may be sure it is not Captain Tyz- dale's fault !-" said she, with marked emphasis on that gentleman~ s name. "He is not so great an admirer of Miss Desmond's that he would be likely to go off of ida own accord and spend the whole day in her company." "Whose accord 'could he have gone of, then, I wonder?" said Carl. "Certainly not on mine, for, as you may remember, I was quite as anxious to go in search of her as he was." "I did not observe that he was anxious at all." "Didn't you? 'You must have been very busy just then counting all the fish you had caught." "He does not admire Miss Desmond in the least" (returning to that point with a positive and somewhat triumphant air). "He would scarcely acknowledge that she was beautiful when I asked him if he thought so, and, therefore, it is impossible that he' is in fault for all this long absence." "No man with any worldly knowledge, or with tact above a grasshopp9r, ever tells one woman that another woman is beautiful," said Middleton, placidly; "but, if Tyndale is not in fault for all this long absence, it natu- rally follows that Miss Desmond must be. Yet I don't think she has any particular fancy for Aim." "Miss Desmond is the sort of woman who" has a fancy for the society of any man. Is is only that of women which she dislikes." "I am not sure that you are wrong there," said he, laughing. "She may not fancy the society of any man-to alter your emphasis a little-but I think that, as a general rule, she prefers men to women.~~ "Those Bohemian adventuresses always do," said the pretty widow, provoked, until she scarcely knew what she was saying. "They know that women can see through them I" "And they probably know,' also, how much amiability and kind judgment they can expect from women!" said Carl, with a flash, net of page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. CARL IN A JEALOUS HUMOR. 87 laughter, in his eyes) while his brow knitted into its quick frown. "No woman was ever more disposed fo~ kind judgment than I am," said Mrs. Sand- ford, quickly-conscious, perhaps, that she ha4 gone a little too far. "I am foolishly, ab- snrdly lenient in my opinions, but, when every- body who knows any thing about the family, knows what Miss Desmond's rearing has been, she ought really, out of consideration for herself; to be more careful in her conduct." "I think I shall go in search of her," said Carl, rising lazily to his feet, and leaving a crushed outline of himself on the grass. "This becomes interesting and mysterious. One, two, three hours since Tyndale disap- peared, and no sign of either of them yet. If there were panthers in this wood, one would know what to think; but, as it is, I'll give Miss Desmond your hint, Mrs. Sandford, for which, no doubt, she will be properly grateful, and send Tyndale as soon as I find him." With this cavalier adieu, he sauntered away, leaving Mrs. Sandford-a desperate being in ~cris linen~ and blue ribbons-alone on the margin of the lake. She did not throw herself in, however, but was found, in a pictu- resque, musing attitude, by Miss Grahame and Mr. Tyndale when they came up a little while after. "What, all alone?" said Leslie. "Has Carl vanished too?" "Oh, Mr. Middleton is so bewitched by Miss Desmond, and so inconsolable at her absence, that I really could not keep him any longer on my hands!" answered this in- genuous lady. "I i~gsted upon his going in search of her, and he left. only a minute ago." "I cannot imagine what has become of Norak and Captain Tyndale," said Miss Gra- hame, "unless Arthur is right in thinking that they ha~e probably taken the boat and gone to~the head of the lake." "I am sure they have done that," said Arthur. "I noticed a short while ago that the boat has vanished from the place where Max usually leaves it." "But it was very selfish of them to go off alone," said Mrs. Sandford, in a tone of th~ most genuine vexation. "I should have liked to see the head of the lake, too I" "Some accident must have occurred to detain them," said Leslie, "else I am sure Morah would have been back before this." "I think I hear the sound of oars now," said Tyndale, walking nearer to the shore. This proved to be the case. The sound of oars and of voices was heard, together with a light laugh, which the listener had cause to know well. The next moment, around a curve of the shore, the two delinquents came into sightMax pulling so lazily on his oars that it was scarcely wonderful they had not arrived before; Norah, with her lap full of wild-flowers, trailing one long, leafy spray in the water, as she had trailed Carl's liardly- won and lightly-thrown-away lily before it. "Have you wondered what had become of us? ~ she asked, as Max ran the boat up to the bank and she stepped ashore, being forced to accept, in doing so, a slight assist- ance from the hand which to avoid she had soiled her boot in the morning. "fr~is all my fault. I carried Captain Tyndale off whether he would or no, and we f~und a fairy-land in those beautiful woods at the head of the lake. See! are not these beauti- ful ?" She held up her flowery spoils. "Does anybody know enough of botany to tell me what they are?" While Leslie was admiring the flowers, and naming the most familiar varieties, Mrs. Sandford turned to -Captain Tyndale, who, having, also stepped ashore, was making his craft fast to a convenient tree. "Unless I should have been entirely de Irop, I think y~u might have been kind enough to come back and invite me to accom1 pany you on your expedition," she said, open- ing a perfect battery of reproachful glances on him. "I should have liked nothing bet- ter than to have gone. I adore boating!" "Do you?" said he, lifting his head after having fastened the boat. ~'But you adore croquettes and Heidsick, also, don't you? If you remember, you were all going to luncheon when Miss Desmond and I started on our 'ex- pedition.'." "And, pray, are you and Miss Desmond so ethereal that you are able to dispense with food altogether? or did you find luncheon a~ well as flowers at the head of the lake?" "We found a few well-baked blackberries, the very last of the season." "You must have\left the boat to find those I" "Of course we left the boat. I suppose we spent an hour wandering about in search of the flowers Miss Desmond has." "Indeed!" said Mrs. Sandford. She gave a glance at Norah, as she stood with flushed, lovely face and torn dress-for her encoun- ters with bushes and briers had not been few -farther in the shadc~ Then she laughed her rippling laugh, which sounded like a piano-forte scale. "It is really refreshing to see a-woman who knows so well how to make men of use as Miss Desmond does!" she said. "As for me, I am so afraid of being troublesome that I scarcely ever venture to make such downright demands on their time and patience." "You should not be so modest," said Max, with a tone of irony in his voice. "Men are nothing if not useful." "I don't think one gains any thing but boredom by modesty, after all," said she; "so, 4f you are sure you are not tired, you may take me out on the lake for a little while, please." "Delighted to do so, I nsa sure," said he, with one of thos~ ready falsehoods which we all tell so glibly, and solace our consciences by thinking it merely "conventional," So, complying weakly with a feminine in- vitation, for the second time that day, Cap- tain Tyndale found himself again afloat, row- ing across the lake with tired arms, and lis- tening to his companion's emphasized conver- sation with a somewhat tired mind. Carl, meanwhile, made his appearance, having caught a glimpse of the homeward- bound boat as he sauntered along the shore, more bent on escaping Mrs. Sandford than on finding Norah. Although he had carried off matters so lightly with the former, he had in truth been sorely offended by Miss Des- mend's desertion and long absence. Hope- less as he was, or might have been, for him- self, he was ready to be jealous of anybody in the world on whom the light of her eyes should chance to fall, and he anathematized Max Tyndale almost as warmly as he had before anathematized Arthur, while the long hours which the former was spending at her side wore away. "She can no more help flirting than she can help breathing," he thought. "Of course she is making a fool of him!" Now, although the after-effects of being made a fool of are not pleasant, it is nevertheless (with a woman who thoroughly understands her business) a very delightful amusement at the time, aJ3d of this Carl was fully nware. Hence, he indulged in savage thoughts of [ Captain Tyndale, who was just then, no doubt, enjoying this delight. Hence, also, he looked remarkably grave and a trifle de- pressed when he came up to where Norab, Leslie, and Arthur, were standing on the bank, watching Max as he pulled the little boat vigorously along in the full blaze of the afternoon sun. "Captain Tyndale must surely be in training," said Carl. "Does he do this sort of thing often? He has been rowing steadily on a stretch-for how znany hours?" "He did very little rowing when I was in the boat," said Norah. "We floated most of the time. You have no idea how pleasant it is if one keeps in the shade." "Very pleasant, I dare say" (a little grimly). "But is he trying to disgust Mrs. Sandford, that he is keeping so broadly in the sun just now?" "The shadow is on the other side of the lake at present," said Miss Desmond. "In the morning it was on this side. That makes the difference." Then she turned to Leslie. "Have you had much sport since I left?" she asked. "Have you caught many fish? You know Mr. Middleton promised to eat all of your catching." "He will not be troubled or gratified, as the case may be," answered Leslie. "I have ca~ight literally nothing. In fact, a more harm- less set of people never amused themselves by dropping baits in water, I am sure." "It has been so profitless,'.' said Tyndale, "that I am afraid you must be tired. Sup- pose we go to the house? Max and Mrs. Sandford can follow at their leisure." To the house, therefore, they took their way-along the path which they had followed in the morning-rather subdued in appear- anke and manner-as people are apt to be af~er a day of "pleasure." Certainly it is or4y when we have set ourselves deliberately to ~work to capture enjoyment, that we begin to realize what a very elusive thing it is-al- most as elusive as the love which- "....will fly away from an emperor's match- To dance at a penny wedding." A very elusive thing it certainly seemed to have proved to Carl, who at last broke si- lence, with a frank expression of his senti- ments: "I knew the whole thing would be a fail- ure," he said, "but really I was not prepared 87 page: 88[View Page 88] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. for such an unmitigated bore as it has "Now, that life always had the greatest pea. been!" I sible attraction for me. I am anre I should "What a pity, Mr. Tyndale could not hear you!" said Norali. "It would serve as a warn- ing to him not to invite such an exi1qcant gen. ileman on another fishing-party." "Do you mean to say, that you have not been bored ? " demanded he, turning suddenly upon her. "Not particularly," answered she, indif- ferently. "I did not expect any thing very exhilarating in the way of amusement, and, when one's expectations are moderate, one's disappointment cannot be very severe." "Yet you certainly must have been amused after a fashion," said he, quickly and suspi. ciously, "else you would not have remained away with Tyndale so long." "I cannot say that I was specially amused, but it was better than sitting on a rug; hold- ing a line in the water, and waiting for a fish to impale itself on a hook." "I should think it would have been worse than any or all of those things to have that heavy fellow on your hands for such a length of time." "My experience among 'heavy fellows' h~s been so great that I have grown thor. roughly accustomed to them. I am afraid I should scarcely know what to do with a brill- iant one if I were to meet such a s-era avis." "Indeed!" said Carl, flushing, and real- izing afresh that in any word - encounter he was always sure to get the worst of Norah's keen tongue. After this, very little more was said. Miss Desmond evidently meant to keep her own counsel on the score of her long t~te-d-t~te with Max-as, indeed, those who knew her were soon forced to learn that she kept it on all subjects. , It may have been that she owed to the peculiar circumstances of her hap-hazard, vagrant lif~,~ knowledge of the great worldly wisdom wjaich lies in habitual reticence. At all events, she possessed it in remarkable de- gree for one so young. When they reached the house, its cool rooms looked doubly inviting after their green- wood experience of five or six hours, as they all agreed, sitting at ease in the pleasant * , drawing-room. "I am sure I should not have liked to be Maid Marian," said Leslie. "I scarcely think Robin Hood himself could have tempted me." "sow different people are!" said Norah. have 'fled to the forest' with Allen-a-Dale without compunction - and probably been an unrepentant victim of chronic rheumatism six months afterward." "What an inducement you give one for becoming an outlaw!" said Carl, with a tone of only half jest in his voice. But she turned from him impatiently- addressing Arthur for the first time volunta- rily: "I have noticed but one thing lacking in your beautiful grounds," she said. "Have you no flower-garden "' "There is one," he answered, as if taken by surprise, "but it is old- fashioned and greatly neglected. Flowers soon run into weeds, you know. Such as it is, however, will you "-he paused, hesitated a moment, then went on deprecatingly-" will you come and look at it?" "No, thanks," she was beginning, when Leslie interposed: "Yes, Norab, pray go! I want you to see every thing at Strafford, and I think the garden will be beautiful when it is put in or- der again.-Take her, Arth\ur-and don't for- get to show her what a lovely view there is from the terrace just above." "Will you come?" said Arthur again, more deprecatingly than before. He looked at her eagerly, so did Carl. Both were uncertain what she would do. To the surprise of both, she smiled suddenly-a queer, puzzling smile-and, rising, bent her head in assent. "Yes, I will go," she said. Five minutes later, Tyndale and herself w~re walking round the terrace-alone. The long shadows of afternoon were stretching across the greensward of the park; the gold- en sunshine, slanting through the brown trunks of the trees, had a mellow glory in it - that serene, pathetic glory which ever dwells in the close of a summer day. Some- thing of this look seemed to rest on Norah's face and in Norah's eyes when she turned at last to her companion. "Why did you ask me to come with you?" she said, coldly, but more gently than she had spoken to him yet. "Did I not tell you that we were to be as strangers to each other?" "And has not even a stranger the right to ask you to walk around a terrace, to look at - a flower-garden?" said he, with a thrill of 88 page: Illustration-89[View Page Illustration-89] A PRIVATE INTERVIEW. K ~Li4 I - N N z2~Cjj. N7~X NNNNN( \ K / N L / N V' N 89 passion in his voice. "Stranger though I may be to you, Norah..-exiled forever from your heart, infinitely less to yo~i than these men whom I have hated for. being at your side all day-can I not even venture to do that?" "No," answered she, with quick kauleur. "You cannot even venture to do that, and so I would have showed you, without an instant's hesitation, if I had not desired to speak to you -to say a few words which mu~t be uttered in private." "I am ready to hear them," said he, quict- ly, "more than ready to hear any thing-the worst thing-you can have to say to me! Even the worst is better than not to hear your voice or meet your eyes at tNll I" "You will not be likely to intoxicate my N brain, or to disarm wy judgment, by such com~ monpl~ce flattery as that, Mi Tyndale," said she, contemptuously. "Instead, you may in- jure your cause more than you know by words £ which are gratuitous insults to me." "They are truth, Nora , if the truth is an insult," said he, ely.' Then he stopped suddenly and looked fnto her face. "My God, what a mad fool I have been!" he said. "Do you think I do not rdtl~e that now? Do you think I can look at you-that I can catch a glimpse of your face, that I can hear a tone of your yoke-without remembering the old, happy days at Baden? As you stand there now-the terrace, the trees, your attitude-all recall that evening when, coming down from the castle, we paused on one of the terraces of the mountain, and I told you how I had learned to love you. Norah, have you for. gotten?" "I remembermany things which you might be pardoned for wishing that Ishould forget," answered she. "But you must have forgotten very much before you could dare to talk like this to me-Norah Desmond I" The tone in which she uttered her own name, the manner in which she drew herself up, in all the stateliness of her superb stat- ure, would have befitted a princess rather than a young person of very questionable Bohemian descent; but Arthur Tyndale remembered this haughty pride of old; and he'remembered, also, that it would have fared ill with any man who ventured to disregard it. In those days of which he had spoken be had known more than enough of the bitter school in which Norah had gained her armor; and he knew, likewise, how well it had served her in the scenes and associations among which her life had been spent. "Forgive me!" he said, humbly. "I meant to do any thing sooner than insult or ofi'end you. I am too gkd to have oven a miii- ute, in which to speak to you alone, to be will. ing to shortefi it by a second. But I cannot -Norab, it is impossible-I cannot forget the past." "Is it necessary for you to forget the past, Mr. Tyndale?" asked she, with the mockery, which had so greatly exasperated him in their first interview, in her eyes, and on her tongue. "When one is able to ignore a thing as completely as you have done-when one is emancipated from all trammels of honor or faith-when one is free from all embarrass. ment attending a plighted word-why should it be necessary to forget the past?" "Norab," he said, turning pale, and speak. ing with lips which fairly quivered, "for God's sake, spare me! I am not fit to cope with you-I never was, for that.matter~-but now I can only feel that I have ruined all the happi. ness of my life, and that I-I have no one to blame for it but myself!" "No one to blame but yourself!" repeated Norab, the merciless. "Do you blame your. self~ Mr. Tyndale? I should never have fan. e.ed such a thing for a moment. I was Sure, on the contrary, that you praised and glorified yourself for having displayed a great deal of worldly acumen. Will you telime," said she, changing her tone suddenly, "what you mean by all these innuendoes? Why do you blame yourself, and for what? It is too late to think of your honor, I should imagine, and I scarce* ly suppose that even your vanity could make you fancy that my happiness is in jeopardy." "Your happiness 1 "repeated he. "No. I see plainly that your happiness has passed be. yond my reach forever. I am selfish, as I have been from the first, Norah-I think only of myself. It is of tn~y happiness that I have made utter shipwreck." There was a minute's silence-a minute in which he felt that Norah's unflinching eyes were reading him through and through. It chanced that they had paused immediately in front of the library; and, if either of them had noticed, just then, a slight rustle would have been heard in one of the windows be- hind them-if they had glanced around, they might have seen a shadow which advanced, hesitated, then quickly retreated page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ARTHUR'S UNHAPPY POSITION. 91 "Again I say that you must tell me ex- plicitly what you mean, Mr. Tyndale," said Norab, imperiously. "More may depend on it than you imagine. Do you wish me to un- derstand that you do not love Leslie, and that you are pleased to imagine again that you do love me?" "I mean," said he, recklessly, "that I have made a desperate and a terrible mistake -that I do not love Leslie; and that, with all the power of' my soul, I do love you!" After this declaration, there was another minute's silence-a minute in* which Norah looked at him with a scorn, impossible to de- scribe, kindling on her face." "And these are the creatures to whom we give our hearth" she said, at length-the passionate cadence of her voice thrilling like music on the still air. "We let such men as this take our love and make a plaything of it! Have you as honor?" cl4ed she, turning upon him with sudden, scorching passion. "Are you true to nothing-to nobody? Arc you more unstable than water, more shifting than sand? Or do you think that you will find in me the weak and contemptible material of the woman who allows herself to serve for amuse- ment twice?" "I only think-" he began, as passionate- ly as herself. But, at this moment, there came a sudden crash in the window behind, which.made them both start and turn-the blood rushing guilt- ily to their faces, their pulses throbbing with a quick alarm. If Leslie- But, instead of Leslie, it was Mrs. Sandford, who appeared in the window, holding up her white hands, in playful deprecation, to Arthur. "0 Mr. Tyndale," she cried, "are you t~sere ?-ean you ever forgive me? I-oh, I are so sorry-so very sorry I In looking over your book-shelves, I have been so miserably unfortunate as to throw down this beautiful pedestal, and break the bust of Dante." CHAPTER XVI. "Oh, hadet thou always better thought of men, Thou hadst then acted better. Carat suspicion! Unholy, miserable-doubt t To him Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm Who has no faith." AT eleven o'clock at night-the night of' the day which had witnessed, among a million or so other social transactions, the excursion of Miss Grahame and her guests to Strafford -Arthur Tyndale was walking from Rosland across the starlit fields in the direction of his own domain. Strongly against his inclina- tion, he had been obliged to return with the party to dinner. Max had unequivocally de- dined this pleasure; but Max was a free man and could do as he liked, despite Mrs. Sand- ford's appealing glances. Arthur, on the oth- er hand, was bound in the chains of one of the most oppressive forms of bondage on this earth of curs-that of an "engaged" man. ilowevor unexacting hisfianc~ie may be-and singularly unexacting Leslie was-society de- mands certain observances and attentions from the man who has entered into an en. gagement of marriage, which not seldom weigh with a most irksome weight on his spirit. "You are coming with us, Arthur, are you not?" Miss Grahame had said when they took their departure; and Arthur-who would have given any thing to answer "No "-stood literally devoid of a decent excuse for doing so. He could not say that the day had been so oppressively wearisome that it had ren- dered him uiifit for any other social duty; still less could he say that, to be in Nornh's society without any opportunity of obtaining a word or even a glance from her, had grown intolerable to him. The memory of other days was with him all the time-of days when no one in the world had a right to come be- tween them, when she was his, his only, his forever, as he had thought, according to the poor jargon in which we dress up our brief fever-fits of fancy. Now all this was changed. She was Carl's, Max's, anybody's, rather than his - and he was engaged to Leslie Grahame. These were two facts which stared him relentlessly in the face, as he walked through the quiet, dewy fields, watching the sinking, crescent moon, while he smoked his cigar and pondered va- rious things, profitable and otherwise. Chief among the latter class were many thoughts of Norah Desmond. He could nut forget that this woman, who stood as far from him now as one of the planets journeying tranquilly over his head, might, a year before, been his wife at a word. It was in vain that he told himself that things were much better as they were; that Leslie suited him incomparably better than her brilliant Bohemian sister ever could have done - his heart, his fancy, his passion, whatever was most concerned, said "Nay" to it all. He felt in every fibre that he was Norah's slave again-that he had been her slave ever since the mouaent she first looked at him with her imperious eyes. Yet this folly-this sudden, reckless revi- val of a passion which, for eighteen months, had lain dormant and made no sign-did not blind his eyes to the position in which he stood. Norah'5 cynicism was founded on truth in one respect at least-men arc not likely to play fast-and-loose with their plighted word when it is passed to one of their own order, to a woman supported by all that wealth and position can give, however lightly they may hold it where the daughter of a Macaire is concerned. To disregard an engagement with Norah Desmond was one thing, to break an engagement with Leslie Grahame quite another. Mr. Tyndale fully recognized the distinction .which made this difference. So it was that his reflections went much in a circle, like a vicious syllogism. Norah and Leslie, Leslie and Norah; the terrace at Baden and the terrace at Strafford made a strange medley in his mind, as he walked slowly through wood and field; and when, after having smoked half a dozen cigars, he found himself at last at the door of Strafford, he was still unable to perceive any ray of light illuminating the predicament in which he found himself. "I'll see Max, anyhow l" he thought. Max had come to fill very much the position of a moral bolster to Mr. Tyn- dale's wavering desires and resolutions. But when he paounted to Max's room- from which a light was streaming out on the summer night-he found it deserted. A fresh breeze was blowing through the open win- dows, and tossing over a number of loose papers on a table in the centre of the floor, but the deep leather chair beside the table, in which Max had evidently been lounging, was empty. Into this chair Arthur flung him- self-resting his head against the back, and closing his eyes wearily. lie would wait for his cousin, he thought, feeling literally inca- pable of any further exertion in the way of sear~l, just then. To employ his own phrase, he was "dead beat" by the listless wander- ings and various emotions of the day. It had been, from first to last, not only a bore, but something much worse than a bore to him. lie had been full of intense weariness' and passionate jealousy both at once, combined with the absolute necessity of showing nei- ther; and the overwrought strain consequent upon this state of affairs, had caused his in- sane outbreak of the afternoon. What harm he had done himself by this outbreak he could not as yet determine. Though he could not drive the memory of Norah's last words or Norah's last looks from his memory, he felt that it was impossible to pause and weigh them in their practical bearing. His head was not cool enough for such work. Max, now, might very readily be capable of it, but the very last thing in the world which Arthur thought of doing, was of telling the story of his folly to Max. He knew his cousin's par- tisanship for Leslie Grahame, and his cousin's stern ideas of honor, too well to v~ture upoii such a recital. It may be imagined, perhaps, that the thought of having been overheard by Mrs. Sandford -~-- who had so unexpectedly an- nounced her presence in the library-window -was a trifle the reverse of pleasant, and added another complication to those already thickening around him. But there- are some fortunate people in the world who, with re- gard to all matters not absolutely certain, are able to believe just what they wish to belieite. Probability is for them tinged entirely with the color of their own needs and desires. Conscience itself readily becomes their ad- vocate. To this class, Arthur Tyndale be. longed. It was not convenient to him to in- troduce another element of annoyance into the troublesome imbroglio in which he found himself - therefore he chose to ignore the probability that Mrs. Sandford had overheard any thing of what passed on the terrace. Her presence in the library was, as she had explained, a mere accident. She had just come in-she could have heard nothing-she had evidently been entirely unaware -of the near neighborhood of any one else. All this he believed, because it suited him to believe it. There arc many people in the world whe are unable to give any better reason for much more important creeds. So, going over the same tread-mlfl of ex- asperating thought, he yawned and waited, and waited &nd yawned, half' an hour for Max. But, even at the end of' half au hour, Max ba4 not appeared. "What the deuce keeps the fellow?" Arthur thought, impatiently. Just then a fresher breeze than 4ny which, page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. THE CAPTAIN'S REPORT. 93 had gone before swept into the room, waving back the curtains, making the flame of 'the lamp flicker, and scattering broadcast over the floor the already fluttering papers on the table. "He'll find his things in fine confusion when he does come!" thought the visitor, lazily. But it did not occur to him to remedy this confusion by recapturing any of the odds and ends which were wafted past him. On the contrary, he watched them with indolent interest as they were blown to and fro into the. nooks and corners-some into the fire- place, some under the bed-until, glancing back to the table, his eye suddenly lighted upon a letter which lay there idly fluttering as if uncertain whether or not to follow its companions. As his glance fell on it, he started vio- lently. His complexion flushed, and then paled again; he caught his breath audibly. Blotted and blurred though it was, he recog- nized in an instant Norah Desmond's writing. For a minute amazement held him literally motionless. As he satgazing stupidly at the familiar characters-for to mistake that bold, black chirography for the writing of any other woman would have been as impossible as to mistake Norah herself for a fashionable * nonentity from a boarding-school-a dozen wild thoughts and conjectures rushed into his mind. What was the meaning of it? How did such a letter come to he here? Had it been addressed to Max? Were they either, or both of them, playing idm(Tyndale) false? Was it a flirtation? Was it a negotiation? his brain felt in a whirl. One thing only was certain: whatever it was, it concerned him vitally, and he must know what it meant. There was no time for scruples or wiredrawn notions of honor when he was being ~deceived and tricked like this! Had not Max, that very morning, assured him that his inter- course with Norah had been entirely unsatis- factory, as well as very slight; and now, here on Max's table, lay a letter which in itself went far to prtve such a statement utterly un- true! "I could not have believed it of him!" Arthur thought, aghast at the gulf of perfidy which yawned before him. His indignation amounted, indeed, to a sense of absolute out- rage-a curious fact, which those will readily credit who have observed what a different. standard in love, friendship, faith, or general morality, we have for our friends and for our- selves. We gracefully stretch the truth to meet the pressure of any necessity which may arise; we govern our conduct by the strictest rule of expediency; we allow our- selves the widest latitude in every possible respect, and demand that no evil' shall be thought-but, if we have the slightest reason to suspect that others are doing unto us as we have done unto them; disgust and misan- thropy are very sure to follow. "This is hu- man nature!" we cry, when we detect in one falsehood the agreeable friend to whom we have probably told a dozen. "This is affec- tion, this is friendship! Oh, who would put faith in either?" So it was with Tyndalc. He had felt toward Max as toward a brother; he had trusted Max with every thing; and now for Max to deceive him on such a vital point as this! But he must read the letter. He must know how far he had been deceived, how far betrayed. No doubt it contained some definite assurance of what Norah meant to do. It was imperative that he should gain this as- surance at any cost. He repeated again that it was no time for scruples or hesitation. He was being deceived, and in self-defense he must know in what manner and in what de- gree. So, serving himself to an act from which every instinct even of conventional honor shrank, he at last extended his hand and took up the letter-a letter which seemed destined to be the plaything alike of chance and of the winds of heaven-and opened it. The first line told him that it was not ad- dressed to Max. Before he had time to read a second, he heard Max's quick, ringing step in the hall below. It was the work of an instant to fold the sheet of paper and slip it into the breast- pocket of his coat. There was no time for thought or deliberation. Impulse said, "It is as much yours as his-take it!" and he followed the dictate of impulse. Before Cap. tam Tyndale had mounted the stairs and reached the door, he had thrown himself back, and was shading his eyes from the light, as if half asleep. "What! you here?" said the former, in a tone of surprise, as he entered "When did you get back from Rosland?" "At least half an hour ago," answered Arthur, starting as if abruptly roused. "I have been waiting for you until I had almost given you up. Where the deuce have you been all this time?" "Taking a turn in the park to cool my head," answered Max. "I suppose it is our unusual gayety which has upset it; but I found myself amazingly warm and restless in the house." "It is warm again; but I should think you would have rowed off all inclination to restlessness to.day." "I did very little rowing, except when I took Mrs. Sandford out; then I was anxious to bring her back as soon as possible." "You did bring her ba~ck very quickly," said Arthur, in rather an injured tone. "It could not have been an hour after I left her on the1lake when, to my surprise, she was smashing Dante in the library." "Yes, I made short work of it," said the other, complacently. "Rather shorter work than she took to be civil, I fancy; for, while I was fastening the boat, she started off to the house by herself and, since I was not particularly anxious to overtake her, we did not meet again till after tbe Dante calamity. I suppose when she came in she thought she would do a little exploring on her own ac- count." "Confound her!" sai4 Arthur, wit!) the most sincere emphasis. Then - conscious that he was verging on dangerous ground- be went on hurriedly, lest this subject might lead to some inquiry with regard to~ Norah and himself: "You see I have been taking life easily while ~ waited for you," he said, "though you needn't think it is I who have been playing the mischief with your papers. The wind served you that trick, and I was too lazy to set things to rights." "It is not a matter of any importance," said Max, casting a careless glance at his scattered effects. "Yo.u have returned soon," he added, leaning back in his chair, and cov- ering a yawn by pulling his long mustache. "Soon, do you call it? It can't be less than twelve o'clock." "And isn't that soon for a summer night, with stars, and bright eyes, and all that sort of thing to keep you awake?" "The bright eyes were looking rather sleepy when I left Rosland. I don't think we can flatter ourselves that our fishing-party was very much of a success, Max." "I never flattered myself for a moment that it would be, my dear fellow," answered Max, cheerfully. "And yet," said Arthur, quickly, "it ought to have been a success in one respect at least. You certainly had a sufficient op- portunity to-day for finding out something about Norah's intentions." "To possess an opportunity and to use it are two very different things. I am sure you are aware of that." "You mean, then, that you did not dis- cover any thing?" "I mean that my attempt to do so was rewarded with very little success. Miss Des- mond was as reticent as ever, and I was un- able to extract any thing at all definite from hei'." "That was unfortunate!" said Arthur. The other did not notice, the sudden jarring tone in his voice, nor the suspicious look in his eyes. "You know nothing, then, of what her intentions are?" he added, after a minute, endeavoring with only tolerable suc- cess to keep all significance out of the inquiry. "Nothing," answered Max, slowly, "ex- cept-" He paused just there and hesitated. "If your exception does not rest under the seal of confidence, pray don't hesitate on my account," said Arthur. "I can credit ~Miss Desmond with any degree of resentful feeling and resentful determination to avenge her wrongs." "You will credit her with something, then, of which I have seen no sign," answered Max, glancing with some surprise at him. "I was about to say-though I beg you to understand that I have received no pledge to such an effect-that I think it likely Miss Desmond may be more generous than you anticipate." "Generous I" - a flush came over the handsome, blond face. "That i& an indefi- nite expression at best. What does it stand for? That she will bind herself to say noth- ing of the past, and that she will deliver up the letters?" "No. She binds herself to nothing. You must be as well aware as I am that you are in no position to demand that she should do so." "The upshot of the matter then is that site is to be bound to nothing, and that lam to remain entirelrat her mercy?" "I am afraid it is not ~pfuch more than that," said Captain Tyndale, gravely. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] j~4 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. SUSPICIONS OF TREACHERY. 95 "By Heaven, I will not endure it 1" said the other, vehemently. "Max, do you mean to tell me that this is all that you have been able to obtain from her?" "It is all," answered Max, a little coldly. "But, unless you deliberately go to work to injure your own cause, I do not think that you have very much to fear. She is a proud woman, and a generous woman, this Norah Desmond." "Do you imagine that you know her bet- ter than I do?" asked Arthur, sneeringly. "It is true you spent three hours alone in tier society to-day; but the character that Norah Desmond shows you when she meanf to make a fool of you, and the character she shows you after she has made a fool of you, are twQ very different things." "Miss Desmond is not likely to waste her ammunition on me," was the dry response. "You may set your mind at rest on that point. As for the three hours which I spent in her society, they were chiefly spent in your service. As far as I was concerned, I should have preferred a cigar under a pine-tree." "And yet you accomplished nothing?" "If you call it nothing to have gained a moral certainty that she will give you no trouble; that you may marry Miss Grahame to-morrow without any fear of what she may do-or say." Arthur winced a little at this assurance. Max would have been still more surprised if he could have seen how very little inclina- tion he felt just then to marry Leslie Gm- hame, with all her sweetness and all her grace, on the next day, or any other day~ for that matter. "Moral certainties don't count for much," he said, after a minute. "I'd rather have one proof that she means it." "I am sorry to say I have no proof to offer. An ambassador's word should be worth some- thing, however, shouldn't it? I have no rea- son for deceiving you." "For deceiving me-no! But you may be mistaken." "True enough. I advance no claim to in- fallibility-especially with regard. Zo women." "Still, you think that she means to let the matter rest?" "I think so, undoubtedly," answered Max, impatiently. He ditl not understand the drift of these reiterated questions. It was growing late, he was growing tired, and when he felt like yawning again he did so, without any pretense of pulling his mustache. Arthur took the hint, and rose. "I see you feel as thoroughly used up as I do," said he; "therefore I'll leave you to turn in. In fact, I owe you an apology for having kept you up so long. But this cursed busi- ness dwells on my mind! I don't believe there ever was a man in such a position be- fore! You've done your best for me, how. ever, Max-I see that plainly-and shall not forget it. I am more grateful than you can tell-especially for your assurance-but, if I fail to give exactly your degree of credit to it, it is because I have the advantage of knowing Norah Desmond better than you do." "I make no pretensions whatever to know. ing Miss Desmond very well," Max answered. And so they parted. When Arthur went to his own room, .his first act was to lock the door-although the danger of interruption was infinitesimally small-his second, to take the letter from his pocket and read it eagerly through, from be- ginning to end.' As he did so, his face would have been a study for any observer of human nature and human physiognomy-of whom, however, there was unfortunately none at hand. The color came and went in vivid al- ternations of red and white; his lips quivered, and now and then he gnawed the under one nervously. +11 these were significant signs with him. Once he caught his breath with the quick gasp of a man to whom a startling surprise has come. This was when he found that Norah had learned in what manner he had endeavored to deter Leslie from making any attempt to know her. "She'll never for- give that!" he mutZered. ~" It's certain to be a duel to the death now!" Then he went on, his eye traveling down line after line of the paragraph in which she summed up the various items of her debt against him. Even the written words seemed instinct with the passion which had dictated them. He seemed to hear her voice, to meet her eyes, in every sentence. And, when he reached the climax, in which her fiery energy spent itself-when he read the significant words, dashed out broad and black upon the white paper, in which she declared that, after having added up the debt, she felt constrained to ask what reprisal could ever equal it, his eyes remained fastened on the page for a full minute, a~ if fascinated. Then suddenly he flung the letter on the table, by which he had been stan(ling, and, turning away, walked across the room. He felt stunned-as if he had been thrown down suddenly by an unexpected hand. Such vin- dictive passion, such scornful renunciation, was worse than he had expected-iv~rse even than he had feared-but, what surprised him even more than the spirit here displayed, than all of Norah'5 anger, or Norah's resentment, was the apparently causeless duplicity of Max. With this letter in his possession, he had not hesitated to say that he had a "moral certain- ty" of Miss Desmond's intention to ignore the past! With the assertion before his eyes that there was no reprisal great enough to repay her debt, he had talked of her generosity, and given hopes-nay, positive assurances-that she had' relinquished all idea of using the pow- er which rested in her hands! "What a lesson against trusting any- body!" Tyndale thought, coming back to the table, and looking at the letter, which lay be- fore him. "No doubt she has turned his head, and won him completely over to her side. I might have expected that. I might have known that would be her first move. And yet Max-I did not think there was the woman in the world who could have made Max act like this! But treachery is a thing which must be expected from everybody who is not tied fast by interest to one's cause," he went on, after a minute's pause. "Good Heavens! how wise I was to take this letter! -how entirely, hereafter, I must rely on my- self alone! She had plainly determined to throw me off my guard by insinuating such vague assurances as I received to-night, and then to fire the whole thing upon me when I am least expecting it. Well "-folding up tle letter with a defiant air, and placing it in his pocket-book-" we shall see! The battle is opened in earnest now~ and it will go hard with me if I cannot even yet outwit this shrewd schemer and her new ally!" CHAPTER XVII. "A lie which Is all a lie may he met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part of a truth is a harder mat- ter to fight." Tus morning after the fishing-party at Strafford, Captain Tynda!e walked over to Rosland. It was such a rare thing for him to make his appearance so early in the day-the morning being usually esteemed sacred to Arthur-that Mrs. Middleton could not re- strain an involuntary expression of surprise when he w~s shown into the drawing-room, where she chanced to be sitting alone. "I hope I do not intrude upon you at a barbarous hour," he said, apologetically, as he crossed the floor to her favorite alcove, where, with a desk open, she was inviting a letter, with a gold pen, on the palest sea-green paper. "I came over to inquire how the ladies are after their fatigue of yesterday. Better, I hope, than Arthur, who really seems considerably the worse for his dissipation, this morning." "Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it," said Mrs. Middleton, in the highly-sympathetic tone in which people usually say such things. "But I thought the excursion a very impru- dent one for everybody concerned. The sun this time of year is exceedingly injurious, and then the dampness-but I am glad to say that nobody seems the worse for it here. They were fatigued last night, but this morn- ing they are all much as usual. I hope Mr. Tyndale's indisposition is not serious?" "Oh, not at all. Lie complains of a head- ache, and of having been a little feverish last ~night. It is no thing much, I fancy, but I recommended him to keep out of the sun." Yes, that is the great point," said Mrs. Middleton, earnestly-everybody has a hob- by, and her hobby was, that an ounce of pre- vention is worth many pounds of cure, with regard to sickness. "People talk of the night air being unwholesome on account of malaria, but I always think that whoever is careful to keep out of the sun is sure to do very well. I sleep with my windows open every night, but I never go out in the sun, and I have not had an attack of fever in fifteen years. If you don't take care, Captain Tyn- dale, you will be ill," she went on, as if moved by a sudden impulse to utter a word of seasonable warning. "You are not used to our climate, and I think the manner in which Mr. Tyndale and yourself walk over here in the broiling sun, without even an um- brella-" "But you forget, madame," said Max, laughing-~-.he showed his French breeding in always saying "madame," instead of our curt English '~ madam" ~"that a soldier page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. THE LOST BRACELET. 97 never carries an umbrella. He would rather a thousand times endure death by a coup do aoleil than be guilty of any thing so opposed to the spirit of military discipline. I flatter myself I know something about your climate. If it means to kill me, it ought t~ have done so while I was marching some years ago in your army. It will not have such another opportunity soon." "Things never come when we are expect- ing them," said Mrs. Middleton, shaking her head. And, as if to point this oracular remark, a vision arrayed in purple and white-the first below, the latter above, according to the present fashion of piebald costume-whom they were neither of them expecting, ap. peaked just then in the open door. "0 Captain Tyndale!" cried Mrs. Sand- ford, with a start, "is it possible this is yea? I had no idea that you were here I "-Robert had only informed her of the fact five minutes before-" I came down-stairs in search of a book. I found" (appealing with infantine blue eyes to Mrs. Middleton) "that I really could not force myself to write my letters. Why can we not telegraph to our friends?" (this to Max). "If we say 'I am well-how are you?' it would be all that is neces- sary." "Not quite all, I am afraid," answered he, advancing and taking the hand she offered him with bewitching frankness. "If I were fortunate enough to receive one of your tele- grams, I could scarcely content myself with an equally terse reply. I~ should be con- strained to add that I kissed your hands, at least." "But what would be the sease of doing by telegraph what you never did in fact?" asked she, with admirable naivete'. "Then, in view of future telegraphing contingencies, we had better make it fact at once," said he, raising the hand-a very pretty one, which he still held-to his lips. Mrs. Sandford did what a foolish woman does on all possible occasions-she laughed; Mrs. Middleton looked as if she was not ex- actly certain what she thought of such con- duct; but Max was so thoroughly at his ease, and so evidently meant his act of gallantry to be regarded in the light of something entirely conventional and free from tender signifi- cance, that after a moment she laughed, too. "Captain Tyndale is initiating you into foreign modes of salutation," she said to Mrs.. Sandford. "What an original you are!" said that lady, surveying Captain Tyndale with a glance of manifest approval. "A thing that most men do in a corner, and look foolish and sentimental over, you do in broad daylight and before anybody, with the utmost 8aflh1-froid." "lt is because we regard the matter from different points of view," said he. "One kisses a lady's hand in France as one shakes it here." "I confess that this universal habit of shaking hands strikes me very unpleasantly," said Mrs. Middleton. "It proves more con-~ elusively than' any thing else the free-and- easy tone which has come over society. The idea of a young lady and a young gentleman greeting each other like a pair of school- boys I Inmy day people knew how to bow-a thing which they seem to have entirely for- gotten now-and a lady never shook hands with any but her most intimate acquaint- ances." "I am heartily glad that was not my day!" said Mrs. Sandford, enthroning her- self on a sofa, and looking up with blue-china eyes at Max. "Fancy living like a set of pokers! I know how to bow, too-in the lancers-but I would rather shake hands any day!" "So should I," said he, sitting down be- side her-as she invited him to do by draw- ing her drapery jiside-" provided I might choose the hands to shake." "But under any circumstance~ you would rather kiss them, I suppose." "Infinitely rather, if they are like yours." "What a flatterer you are!" cried she, fluttering her fan with delight. "A flatterer because I have eyes to see that your hands are beautiful? You have eyes yourself, and you can't possibly think that." In this key the conversation proceeded for ten minutes. Mrs. Middleton went back to her letter philosophically. She had seen enough of modern society to lie little sur- prised by any thing which could be said or done by the most advanced thinkers. As for Max, let that man who has never yielded to the demands for admiration and the invitation to folly held out by a pretty, vain woman, throw the first stone at him. Partly to please his companion, partly to amuse himself, he went on heaping Pelion upon Ossa in the way of compliments, until at last-having ex- hausted his invention-it occurred to him to ask where Miss Grahame and Miss Desmond were. "Leslie drove, after breakfast, to Wexford, to do some shopping," Mrs. Sandford answered, "and Miss Desmond went with her. I really could not think of going! It is too horribly warm!" "Mr. Carl Middleton went with them, ~ suppose? "No" (with a quick glance to see why he had asked the question). "I have no doubt he would have liked to do so-for it is really quite absurd to see how he is infatu- ated with Miss Desmond-but. his uncle in- sisted on his going with him to pay a visit to some i/elation in the neighborhood. What a bore relations are, are they not?" "Sometimes," answered Max, absently. He looked down on the hideous figures that covered a Japanese fan in his hand. He was thinking that he was glad Norah and Leslie were for once alone. It would give them an opportunity to know each other better; it would give the former, in especial, an oc- casion to test her sister's feelings with re- gard to Arthur Tyndale, to judge whether or not he had been right in the opinion which he had expressed, and the course he had urged. Mrs. Sandford caught the preoccupied tone in his voicr, and immediately set it down to the fact that he had just heard of Miss Des- mond's absence. Had he, then, come to see her? Instinctively the lady's mind went back to that three hours' absence on the lake yesterday-the absence which had been no more satisfactorily explained by Max than by Norah, Now, it may be said, once for all, that the pretty widow had no lendresse, likely to lead to tragedy or despair, for Captain Tyndale; but she was a woman insatiably fond of admiration, a woman who grasped at all opportunities for obtaining it, and relin- quished none. In Alton society Max had been something of a lion; in Alton society, also, he had been credited to her, if not ex- actly as a serious conquest, still as one of the admirers whom she always liked to keep fluttering around her-1men whom she did not wish or intend to marry, but with whom it was very good pastime to flirt. She had found it such very gooil pastime to flirt with a French chasseur-albeit the advances were mostly on her own side-that she had come down to Rosland simply to pursue that amuse- ment, and, if possible, to "break the poor man's heart" in the course of a few idle, summer weeks. It was a disappointment, therefore, that the poor man evinced very little desire to have his heart broken, even in the most scientific manner. This she saw sufficiently soon, and with sufficient plain. ness; ~but it is not in feminine nature-even of the most dove-like kind-to relinquish a possible, probable, or positive admirer with. out a struggle. Mrs. Sandford perceived, or thought she perceived, that Max had serious intentions of deserting her standard for that of the beautiful Bohemian, who had already secured the only other eligible admirer in the field, so she made up her mind to show him at once what kind of a game this beautiful Bohemian was playing. Max, still absorbed in the contempla- tion of his fan, and still thinking of what might be going on at that moment in Miss Grahame's phaeton, was a little surprised when a golden head-a head indebted to the chemist rather than to Nature for its gold- was bent toward him, and a sweet voice said, in a mysterious whisper: "4ake an excuse, please, for our going out. I have something very important which I must ask your advice about."' Then aloud, extending two wrists, slender and white enough to match the hands already compli- mented: "See how unlucky I have been! I lost one of my gold bands last night in the shrubbery, and no one has been able to find it yet. I am afraid no one will find it, though I have offered fabulous rewards to all the servants of the establishment. You don't know how I should dislike to lose one of these bands. They were poor Mr. Sandford's lastpresenttomeandthereforelwearthem all the time." Max thought that if he had any intention of succeeding poor Mr. Sandford, he should hope devoutly that the band might remain lost, and its fellow speedily follow it; but, since he had not the least aspiration that way, he cheerfully proposed-what its dis- consolate owner plainly desired-that they should go in search of it. "I always have wonderful luck," he said. "I don't think I ever looked for any thing that I did not find it; I am sure that I never laid a wager0 that I did not win it, nor sat page: 98 (Illustration) [View Page 98 (Illustration) ] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. down to a gaming-table without rising suc- cessful." " Oh, you are just the person to find my bracelet then!i" cried she, clapping her hands in an artless fashion. " Let us go at once 1 I shall not mind .the sun at all, if you will only wait until I get my hat and parasol." - As Max acceded to-this moderate request, she ranufrom the room in a tumult of enthu- siasma which would have done credit to the affectation of sixteen. , "How very excitable Mrs. Sandford is !" said Mrs. Middleton, ar hing her brows in a manner inore significant~ than many words, as she looked up from the~letter she had finished aund was folding. "Very excitable, indeed !" answered Max, dryly.a Then he laughed, and added: " It is constitutionalwith some people, I suppose." The lady with whom excitement was con.- stitutional met him~ presently in the hall, ar- rayed in a hat which seemed fashioned for the especial purpose of affording no shade whatever to the face, and. armed with a club-. handled parasol, provided with fringe enough to leave a little on the branches of every tree and shrub in the grounds, add still have some to spare. - T : eaving athe house, they took their way directly to the shrubbery, where she proposed tod'show him dudctly the spot at which the hidelethad been lost. *"If you know exactly the spot, we may expect .to find it 'lying on the ground," he said. " Oh, I fear I am not so Exact ,as that," answei-ed she,.shaking her head. "I looked for it, and Mr. Middleton looked for it, and my maid has spent the morning doing little eisc, so I fear even ydurn luck will scarcely be equal toiding it. I should not have brought you iutinto the sun simply on that account," she added, " but you know I told you that I wanted to ask 'your advice about something yery important" "I reieniber, and I am all attention." "Let ua sit down here, thenn" pointing to a garden-scat in a sufficiently shaded position --" I never can :talk about any thing of par-' ticular interest-when I am walking." Max resigned himself to the situation with as much grace as most men manage to display in similar circumstances. He brushed off the seat with hia handkerchief', and they sat down; Mrs. Sandford arranged herself in a picturesque attitude, unfurled her fan, and lifted her eyes to his face. " If you could only know what I feel 1" she began, with a deprecation calculated to -disarm any thing like harsh judgment or crit- icism. " Is it absolutely necessary that I should know ?" asked Max. lie felt inclined to laugh, only he knew that such an offense would never be forgiven. There are some natures to whom ridicule is the unpardon- able sin. Already Mrs. Sandford looked at him a little suspiciously. The tone of his question did 'not please her. " It is not necessary," she answered, with a serious gravity, calculated to check all lev- ity-her eyes so wide open that hie began to amuse himself with a speculation as to wheth- er they could possibly expand any wider- 'But if you could know you would under- stand the great reluctance I feel to saying any thing even to you ;' yet I am so uncertain about what I ought to do, and I am so anx- ious to do what is right--" .:(" What on earth does the woman mean ?" thought Mar. " Is she going to consult me about her will or her marriage ?") " It was so purely accidental," pursued she, dropping her eyes to her fan. "I had so little idea-not the least in the world, in fact--of any thing of the kind when I went into the library, or no earthly consideration would have induced me to go l " " Can it be the Dante she is talking about ?" thought Max, becoming. more thor- oughly puzzled every minute. Then aloud: " Really, Mrs. Sandfoird, I fearyou will think me very stupid,.bnt I have not as yet grasped your meaning at allt What was it that you had not the least idea of when you entered the library ?" " That Mr. 'Tyndale and Miss Desmond were on the terrace outside," answered she, lifting'-her eyes again, and looking directly at him, And, whether it was on account of the glance, or of the tone, or whethei- it was the significance of 'the words themselves, it is at least- certain that Captain. Tyndale started with a 'quick, nervous motion, foreign to his usual manner. Arthur and Miss Desmond on the terrace outside ! What had this fool- ish, fluttering widow overheard ? " Well," he said, trying to speak lightly, and not achieving a very striking success, 4' 98 A K \~ I' ,\ ) W'"~.. A I 0' 54 C-. 0' 0~ 0 0 0 "3 I - page: -99[View Page -99] I 99 " there was nothing remarkable in that fact, was there ? Mr. Tyndale and Miss Desmond had certainly a right to he on the terrace, had they not ?" , ." There was something very remarkable, I think," answered she, with marked empha- sis. " You would, have thought so, too, if you had overheard the declaration which I -in the most accidental manner in the world -overheard Mr. Tyndale make before I had been in the library five minutes." " A declaration !" repeated Max. He put up his hand to his mustache, which was a very real and present help to him in times of embarrassment. " There are a great many different kinds of declarations," he added, after a minute-a very lame, and certainly not a very brilliantly diplomatic conclusion. " Certainlyy" said Mrs. Sandford, in a tone of petulant satire, "I am perfectly well aware of that. There are declarations of war and declarations of peace, and declarations of love. Mr. Tyndale's declaration, as it chanced, belonged to the latter class." " To declarations of love !" repeated Max, starting again.. "You-pardon me, but you must be mistaken ! It is impossible !" " Unfortunately, it is so !" said she, em- phatically. " Never, in all my life, have I heard a declaration made more plainly. He said, as clearly as possible, that he had made a great and terrible mistake, that he did not love Leslie, and that he did love Miss Des-. mond passionately. That was his expression -passionately!/" " Indeed !" said Max. He was so taken by storm, as it were, that for .a minute he forgot that he had any part to play, or any secret to guard. His bronzed skin changed color quickly, and the expanding flash of his eye fairly startled her. " Arg you in ear- nest ? ' he asked, after a minute, and his voice seemed to lower and quiet strangely. " Did you hear Arthur say that ?" " Yes, I heard him say that -- exactly that !" answered she, gratified, according to a curious instinct of human nature, at the sensation she had caused. " But, indeed "-- mindful of the special object she had in view -" I do not think one ought to blame Mr. Tyndale very much. You men are so foolish ! --you will saiy any thing when a certain kind of woman leads you on ! Now, although I did not overhear very much "-she did not add that this was not her fault or her merit I -"I heard enough to tell me that Miss Des- mond had led him on." "Are yout sure of that ? ' asked Max. lie looked at her keenly. Much as he distrusted Norah, he just then distrusted this fair, im- pulsive, silvery - tongued being still more. " Did Miss Desmond exhibit no indignation at such a declaration from a man who is .en- gaged to her sister " he added, after a mo- ment. Still wider opened the blue eyes, and the carefully - darkened eyebrows arched them- selves. " Indignation ! I do not think Miss Des- mond dreamed of such a thing, I am sure she did not show it. I did not hear much more than Mr. Tyndale's declaration; however, for just then I unfortunately threw down the Dante, and that ended the love-scene." ." The love-scene 1" repeated Max, sternly, and his brows knit themselves into a quick frown. "Do you mean that you can apply such a term as that to any thing which took place ?" " I scarcely know what other term it would be possible to apply. Romeo was not more passionate than Mr. Tyndale, though Miss Desmond seemed less demonstrative, and struck me rather in the light of a person ,who was playing a cool, steady game of some kind."- " So she is !" he muttered. Those last words went further toward re- moving his doubts of the story thatn any thing else had done. They at least were true. Norah was playing a cool, steady game, of which not even he could flatter himself that he saw the end. He could fancy just/ how she had listened to Arthur's madness- the madness which had put every thing which he most wished to keep secret into the hands of a "prying eavesdropper," as Captain Tyn- dale did not hesitate to call his fair coinpan- ion in the sacred recesses of his thoughts. ." It is very evident that Miss Desmond is one of 'those women who cannot live without the admiration and adulation of every man they meet," said Mrs. i~andford, after a while, in a virtuous tone. " But it is very strange and ver'y dreadf'ul-something I cannot under- stand--that she should desire to obtain the affections and attentions of the man to whom her sister is engaged !" "Such wavering affections are worth very little !" said Max, bitterly. 3 EAVESDROPPING. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 A DAUGhTER OF BOHEMIAN. A CROQUET-PARTY: 101 "But, of course, Leslie world not feel that way," answered she, eagerly. "And do you know it is about tAct I wanted to consult you-shall I tell Leslie? Of course, it would be a ~very painful thing to do; but still, if it were right-" "Good Heavens, no!" cried he, fairly aghast. "It would be a terrible blow to come upon her without any preparation. Let me beg you most earnestly not to think of such a thing!" "I will not-indeed I will not!" said she, hastily. "I determined when I was consid- ering the matter last night-I really could not sleep on account of it-that I would ask you what to do, and take your advice. I promise you that I will not say a word to Leslie.'' "Thank you," said he, cordially. Then, after a second's pause, he added: "I agree with you that it is hard for any one like Miss Grahame to be deceived in this manner -a manner which I cannot trust myself to characterize either as regards her lover or her sister-but our first duty is to think of her, and I-if you will allow me, I should like to examine this matter further before I decide to let her hear the truth." "Oh! I shall be so glad if you zeill take all responsibility off my hands," cried she, eagerly. "It was what I hoped you would do! I know how much you admire Leslie; and then you are such a friend of Mr. Tyn- dale's that I am sure you will endeavor to show him what Miss Desmond's true charac- ter must be. I confess I shudder when I think of her "-the shudder came in play in the most striking and artistic manner-" her conduct shows such an utter want of the commonest sentiments of honor. But, then, what else was to be expected from her rear- ing? Oh, what a pity that Leslie should ever, ever have brought her here!" IfCaptain Tyndale did not echo these sen- timents entirely, he at least agreed with them in a measure. Norah had most gratuitously played him false, he thought. With her as- sumption of frankness, her outspoken scorn and contempt for Arthur Tyndale, she had made him believe in her thoroughly; and all the time she was ready to listen to passionate protestations of devotion from the man she affected to despise, the man who was engaged to her sister! It may be said for Max that he would not have been likely to give implicit credence to Mrs. Sandford's narrative, if other proofs had not confirmed it. But something in the expression of Arthur's face and Arthur's tone when he had spoken the night before of her presence in the library-that presence which the broken bust of Dante attested- came back to him like a ray of light. This was what it meant: There had been a "love- scene" on the terrace with Norah-with No- rnh, who an hour before had uttered such bit- ter words of Arthur and Arthur's love! Well, there could be no doubt Mrs. Sandford was right-that she was integrally false. After all, was it remarkable? Could any thing else be expected from a girl whose life had been spent among the adventurers and adven- turesses of Bohemia? Perhaps she was bent on a bolder stroke than he had even fancied -perhaps she meant to lead Arthur back into the chains og the old infatuation, and then make him marry her! How easily this might be accomplished, Max scarcely ven- tured to acknowledge to himself. lie felt that there was nothing in Arthui~s character on which, in any emergency, it was possible to rely. What could be predicated with safe- ty of a man who, in open disregard of his plighted faith, averred that he loved "pas- sionately" a woman whom he had only men- tioned in tones of contemptuous repugnance a month before? Thinking of him, Max felt that hopelessness which we have many of us known in similar cases. With a person, how- ever bad, who possesses any thing like sta- bility, it may be possible to Isnow, after a fashion, what to do; but, with one whose opinions, feelings, and resolves, are like the yielding sand, he must be a sage, indeed, who can resolve upon any fixed course of action. Pondering such thoughts as these, Cap- tainTyndale walked by Mrs. Sandford's side to the house-the sun having at last forced them to abandon their position-and it was like an echo of, or a commentary upon, his train of reflection when the first person whom he saw on entering the drawing.room was Norah Des. mond. Leslie was there, also, and Mrs. Mid. dieton, but it was in the nature of things that the eye should fall first on Miss Desmond. If two or two hundred other women were in the room, she attracted the gaze as naturally and involuntarily as a ray of sunlight or a brilliant flower. Yet it must not be supposed that there was any thing brilliant or flower-like in her costume, which was singularly simple as a general rule, avoiding all bizarre effects, even such as are sanctioned in this heyday of bizarre modes. She was evidently determined that nobody should say there was any thing " Bohemian" in her taste. And it was sur- prising-it was like a revelation to eyes only accustomed to overloaded women - to see how this simplicity of attire enhanced her really extraordinary beauty. Indeed, Mrs. Sandford confided to her maid, in the deep injury of her soul, that it was on this account Miss Desmond dressed so plainly-that she wore few flounces, and still fewer ornaments. "She wants to show that she ecu do it!" the acute lady said. "Poverty may havc something to say in the matter, but affecta- tion has still more!" Whatever were Norah's reasons, there certainly was no question of her success in an aesthetic point of view. Just now Mrs. Sandford looked like an overdressed doll, in all her purple and white glories, by the side of the other's plain morning-dress, unrelieved by any thing more than a bit of black velvet tied rouiid her throat. No pendant, no ear- rin"s, no sash, no "any thing," Mrs. Sand- ford would have said, except exquisite fresh- ness and artistic simplicity. Max looked up- on her, and his eye was so well satisfied with seeing that, by a masculine result of mascu~- line logic, he began to ask himself if it were possible that this beautiful, stately creature was, indeed, the consummate actress and scheming adventuress which circumstances seemed to indicate. He certainly would have been something more or less than man if he could have resisted the sunlight of the smile with which she presently turned to him. "We have beefs talking of you, Captain Tyndale-Leslie and I," she said. "Have your ears been burning at all' this morning?" "They have been too much engaged in listening," he answered, walking over to where she sat. "I have been in the shrubbery with Mrs. Sandford, and-have your ears given you warning that you were a topic of conversation, Miss Desmond?" "No," she answered, quietly; but she looked up at him as he stood, tall and straight, before her, with a sudden flash of intelligence in her eye, which shoved him that she under- stood at once what he meant. It was' not likely that she had forgotten Mrs. Sandford's presence in the library the evening before, and she possessed none of Mr. Tyndale's fa- cility for believing just that which was the least trouble and the most agreeable to be- lieve. "We have been talking of you-Mrs. Sandford and I," repeated Max, impressed al- most against his will by the clear frankness of her glance, the utter want of any shade of detected guilt on her face. "And, if you do not object, I should like to ask some expla- nation of a story which she has been good enough to tell ~ She looked at him steadily for a minute before she answered; then another quick, bright smile came over her face. "You go to your point very directly," she said. "I like that. It answers better, with some people, than the diplomacy of a Talley- rand. Yes, Captain Tyndale, I will give you a full explanation of whatever story you may have heard, because you have thought well enough of me to come and ask for it like a man of honor." Captain Tyndale winced, a little at this. Half an hour before he certainly had not "thought well" of her; but there was some- thing magnetic about this woman. Let him doubt or distrust her as he might out of her presence, he could not do so in it; he could not bear the clear ring of her voice, or meet the frank glance of her eye, and say, "This is falsehood!" "Will you tell me now?" he asked, eager- ly. "Shall we go~out on the veranda? I do not think we are likely to be disturbed." But, even as lie spoke, Mr. Middleton and Carl entered the room, and the latter at once came over to Norah. A few minutes later they went to luncheon, and all hope of an im- mediate explanation was at an end. At luncheon Captain Tyndale found that there was a social engagement on hand for the afternoon. "We have to go over to the Covingtons to play croquet," Leslie told him. "It is very tiresome, but they made such a point of it I scarcely like to disappoint them. What a barbarous idea it is to have afternoon amusements in summer, is it not? I think the afternoon should always be sacred to one's sie2ta." "A croquet-party will at least have the merit of novelty to me," said Carl. "1 have heard of the game very often, but I have never seen it." page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 A IPAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. MISCHIEF-MAKING. 103 "Never seen it!" A note of admiration poorly expresses the tone in which those three words were echoed round the table. "Never seen it! We could not have im- agined such depth of ignorance, even in Ger- many," said Mrs. Sandford. Max laughed, and raised a glass of wine to his lips. "Happy man I" ho said. "We drink to your continued ignorance." "I am not sure that I desire it to con- tinue," said Carl. "A man might as well know a little of every thing. Something like billiards, isn't it?" This remark was addressed to the company in general. "Like billiards!" repeated Leslie. "'As moonlight is to sunlight, or as water unto wine,' or as the weakest tea you can imagine to good champagne." "A more tiresome thing never was in- vented," said Mrs. Sandford, with unction. "Why do you all play it, then?" asked Norah, also addressing the company. "When one has to submit to being bored in a case of necessity or duty, I can stand it as well as any other woman or man, but, when it is bor- ing, pure and simple, and you call it amuse- ment, I cannot see the sense of it." "Nor I," said Carl. "I never could." "Unfortunately, we cannot help our- selves," said Mrs. Middleton "There are certain social amusements which are social duties. If one shirks them, one must give up society altogether." "But do you really find no pleasure in your social gatherings?" asked the young Bo- hemiari, curiously. "How strange that you should continue to call them 'amusements,' then! I should be honest, and say 'bores' at once." "How very evident it is that Miss Des- mo~d has never been in society!" said Mrs. Sandfdrd, with her rippling laugh. "What would she think if she had gone through the exhaustion of two or tikree seasons, I won- "I should probably think that I was much the worse for wear in every particular," an- swered Miss Desmond, quietly. This was such a keen home-thrust-since evei~ybody who had known Mrs. Sandford in her first youth was so thoroughly conscious that eke was the worse for wear-that Leslie turned the course of conversation at once by addressing Max. "Can you not come with us this after- noon?" she asked. "You know that the Covingtons would be very glad to see you." "I hope you have not forgotten that you have an engagement to drive with me this afternoon," said Carl, speaking quickly to Norah. "The croquet-party need not inter. fere with it, for I can drive you over to the Covington place." "No, thanks," said Max to Leslie. "You are very kind, and so would the Covingtons be, but I really cannot agree with Mr. Mid. dieton in thinking that croquet is either worth knowing, or-if one has the misfortune to know it after a fashiontworth playing. I shall go back to Strafford~and see how Ar. thur is coming on."* He had not gone back to Strafford, how. ever, when the carriages-c0nsisting of Les- lie's phaeton and Carl's new dog-cart-drove to the door, and the three ladies, in their pretty croquet costumes, came down-stairs. "How neatly I settled that fellow!" said Carl, looking at Captain Tyndale as they drove off~ "Did you notice how he paused and glanced at you when Leslie asked him if he would not come with us? He would have said 'yes' in a minute if I had not showed him that I had a prior claim upon your time and attention." "How exceedingly foolish you are!" said Norali, with delightful candor. "It is really astonishing to see how completely you disre- gard such trifles as fact at~d reason. If Cap- tain Tyndale looked at me when Leslie spoke to him, it was doubtless in much the same way that you look at your horse when I speak to you." "It is impossible but that you must see that the man is ready to make a complete fool of himself about you!" said Carl, with jealous and not particularly lucid energy. "It is perfectly possible that I see noth- ing of the kind," she an~wcred. "Neither would you, if your eyes ha~ not a glamour of absurdity over them. If ~~ou must know the truth," she added, impatiently, "you might have seen it for yourself~-.-by-the-way, Cap- tain Tyndale is in love with Leslie." "In love with Lesli~l" repeated he, in a tone of incredulity, turning to look into her face. "You-you are not in earnest?" "I am entirely in earnest," she answered. "He is certainly in love with Leslie; and I think" (this very deliberately) "that he would suit her infinitely better than his ac- complished cousin will ever do." "Do you?" said Carl. "But that is for Leslie to judge, is it not? Unless, indeed-" Here he broke off abruptly. A sudden strain of new suspicion darted into his mind. There is something really inexhaustible in the versatility of jealousy-something that can freshly amaze every day and every hour even those who have had most cause to know and best opportunity to study that remarkable passion. It may be said that this was just now the master-passion of Carl Middleton's life. Feeding his love for Norah day by day on the magic of her presence, he had fed his tormentor also on the words and smiles which she g~ve so freely to others, until he was ready to believe any thing, to see any thing, to fancy any thing, that might tend to add to his discomfort, however improbable it might intrinsically be. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sandford was doing a little mischief-making on a small scale with Leslie. She was too mindful of her promise to Max, to attempt any thing of the kind on a great scale; but the desire to meddle and to talk, to advise wisely or to hint what she was not allowed to confide, was too much for her-as it has been too much for many an- other woman since the days of Eve. If she did not venture to disregard entirely the em- bargo which had been laid upon her tongue, it was not because she attached any particu- lar binding significance to a promise, but rather because ~he was not prepared to brave the anger which she knew Max would feel, or to sacrifice the advantage she had gained by discreet confidence and appeal. She began, therefore, on the outskirts of the subject, be- gan discursively to talk of Miss Desmond, expressing herself with all the moderation and good sense which usually characterized her conversation: "So charming, so beautiful, with such a peculiar gift of fascination !" she said. "I never knew before what a real enchantress a woman can be - an enchantress such as one reads of, you know. Miss Desmond seems to possess such a peculiar attraction for men! I have never seen any thing like it." "I am afraid Carl is more in love with her than is good for him," said Leslie, flick- ing Romulus and Remus lightly with the whip. "But I am not aware that she has displayed her conquering talent with regard to any one else as yet." "That is because you have not observed," said Mrs. Sandford, with a shako of the head. "If you had- But I think there is nothing more beautiful than that perfect and implicit trust which you scene to feel in every one you love." "I certainly could not love any one whom I was forced to suspect," answered Leslie, flushing. "If you are speaking of Norab "My dear, I am not speaking of anybody -that is, of anybody in particular," inter- rupted the other, quickly, "Of course, it is no affair of mine. I am, unfortunately, too observant-I see and know too much. I of- ten feel as if I would give any thing to have your delightful repose and confidence." "You are right in saying that I trust im- plicitly those whom I love," said Miss Gra- hame, with some lzasetczer-for it is slightly trying to be politely accused of obtuse stu- pidity-" but, with regard to other people, I am not conscious of wearing a bandage over my eyes. I make no very great claim ~to worldly acumen, but I think I can ~see as clearly as most of my fellows." "I never implied or meant to imply for a moment that you wore a bandage over your eyes," said Mrs. Sandford, with the sweetest conciliation. "I only meant that you are blind-quite blind-where your affections are concerned. You acknowledge that yourself." "Not that I am blind, but that I do not suspect readily. There is a distinction be- tween the two things." "Is there? I suppose I am very stupid, but I really eanuot see it. It seems to me that one is blind if one does not suspect when one is deceived, for instance." "When one is deceived!" Something in the tone which uttered those words-a scarce- ly-veiled significance and meaning - ~truek with a cold chill to Leslie's heart. She felt suddenly that Mrs. Sandford was not talking at random, that she had a particular object in view, and that her words pointed like ar- rows directly toward that object. If Miss Grahame had followed her impulse, she would have turned authoritatively and said, "What do you mean? For Heaven's sake, speak plainly!" But she was a woman of sufficient worldly experience to know that such an im- pulse was not a wise one. To bid some pee- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 A DAI~TGHTER ple speak plainly is simply to offer them a premium for further innuendo and mystery. "Of course if one is deceived, one may desire and should endeavor to know it," she said, after a minute. "Self-respect-which is often, however, merely another name for selfishness-teaches that much, at least." "But if one does not suspect - if one does not open one's eyes and look, how can one know?" asked Mrs. Sandford, more meaningly than ever. Just then she felt so much sincere compassion for Miss Grahame, that it required her strongest thoughts ~f Captain Tyndale to refrain from telling the whole truth, as she conceived it. Leslie looked at her with a half-pathetic keenness in her soft gray eyes. "I would not turn away from any proof of deception which came to me," she said, gravely, "but I would never lower myself sufficiently to go in search of it." "Oh, my dear, lam sure you never would!" cried the other, who began to think she had gone far enough. She had put Leslie on her guard, and she had not broken faith with Max. While congratulating herself on the diplomacy which had secured both these ends, she felt that this was the golden moment in which to retreat. Enough (for her purpose) had been said, and not too much: another word might involve her in the necessity of an explanation, and spoil all. "I am sure you never would I" she i-epeated. "I al- ways thought you had the keenest sense of honor I have ever known in any one. How 1 strange it is to consider how unlike the near- eat relations may be!" (This hint was so tempting,.that she could not resist throwing it in.) "By-the~.by, do tell me if there is no talk of any of these Oovington girls being married? Do they mean to grow into a whole houeeful of old maids?" The conversation was easily turned in this way-for Leslie was too proud to make any effort to continue a subject which the other evidently wished to drop-but Mrs. Sandford was safe in thinking that she had sowed a seed which was destined to ripen int9 fruit, and worked mischief not likely to pass harm- lessly away. OF BOHEMIA. CHAPTER XVIII. "A woman is a foreign land, Of which, though there he settle young, A man will ne'er quite understand The customs, politics, and tongue. The foolish hie them poet-haste through, See fashions odd, and prospects fair, Learn of the language, 'how d'ye do?' And go and brag that they've been there." ON the evening of the same day, dinner was over at Rosland, the lights were turned low in the drawing-room, and the party- somewhat tired and languid after their cro- quet-were assembled on the veranda, when Arthur Tyndale came across the lawn in the shadowy moonlight and joined them. They were a little surprised to see him, and he had to run a gantlet of inquiries about his indispositionn," all of which he answered with remarkable brevity, and then dropped into a seat under the shadow of the vines by Leslie's side. "I am sorry to hear you have been un- well," she said, in her tender voice-a voice which sounded like a C minor chord in mu- sic-" has it really been serious? Do you think the fishing yesterday had any thing to do with it?" "It has not been in the least serious," he answered, in a tone of subdued irritation. "A little headache-nothing of any impor- tance. I cannot imagine what induced Max to say that I was ill." "He did not say that you were ill-only unwell." "But I was not even unwell-lazy would have been much nearer the truth. This weath- er pulls one down horribly," he added, impa- tiently. "I have almost made up my mind not to leave the house again while the sun is above the horizon. "Have you?" said Leslie. She did not say any thing more, for, like a flash, it oc- curred to her that, if Arthur discontinued the morning visits which he had paid ever since her arrival, at Rosland, it would effectually put an end to all their private interviews. She was too fastidious in taste and breeding to withdraw from the circle of the evening in any marked manner, and there are few of us who have not learned that the intercourse of two people, in which half a dozen others more or less participate, is rarely satisfacto- ry. She did not suggest this fact to him, for A LIVELY IMAGINATION. it also occurred to her that he might be as began to stir within her. Something' was well aware of it as herself. A new sense of going on! Her newly-sharpened fac~ties of distrust had come over Leslie since Mrs. observation told her that much at lea t. 0th- Sandford had uttered her enigmatical warn- ers knew or suspected something, bout Ar- ing. It was very vague, as yet-for she did thur or about Norah, which must of necessity not know whom or what she had been advised concern her. She had a strange, puzzled feel. to suspect-but it existed, and this was more ing, as of a child newly waked-what did it than could have been said twelve or even six mean? As yet the faintest conception of the hours earlier. Tyndale's woids - which in truth had not come to her. truth were little more than the random ut- "Why did not Captain Tyndalc come over terances of a man impatient with circum- with you 2" said Mrs. Sandford to Arthur, by stances and with himself-jarred on her as way of breaking the awkward pause which they would n~t have done had they been of followed Carl's remark. She was good-na- much stronger~ import a little while before. tureci in the main, and, although she meant She was not woman to display any thing to know all that was to be known about this like petulant ction, however, and so she mystery which pique~ and puzzled her, she made answer very~)~uietly: had no objection to soothingg matters so- "I think it would be a very prudent res- cially, meanwhile. "lie might have felt a olution. Aunt Mildred would certainly ap- little interest in learning whether or not we plaud it, for she blames the sun for every ill survived the croquet." that flesh is heir to in our climate, and fan- "He might have come if he had been cies that, if we only stay under shelter from aware that I intended to do so," Arthur an- sunrise to sunset, we can sleep out in the dew swerved, carelessly. "But I sti-olled off with- all night if we have a mind to." out letting him know." "There might be a more unpleasant ne- "And pray why dad,,~you stroll off without cessity on such a night as this," he said, letting him know?" asked she, petulantly. throwing back his bead and looking up, so "Because I thought him quite as well ac- that the soft moonlight fell on his fair, deli- quainted with the path as I am," returned he, cate face and silken blond hair. Then he coolly. turned abruptly to Norah. "Miss D~smond, Then there was another pause. Every- do you remember- I me&n, does not this body felt instinctively that something had moonlight make you think of moonlight "happened" between these tw~ men, who, in nights in Germany? Something just now re- an undemonstrative masculine fashion, had minds me of one night which I cannot forget represented "Damon and Pythias"in mod. -of a moon in her first quarter hanging over era costume a short time before. Nobody Coblentz, of the Rhine murmuring below~and fancied for a moment that any thing overt or of Ehrenbreitst~in, with its towers showing violent, or even tangible, had taken place, dark and massive against the purple sky but that something had come between them-.- above!" some coolness, some barrier, some change in "Your imagination must be very lively, the' old, affectionate intimacy-was evident, Mr. Tyndale," answered Carl's. voice out of for it is astonishing how much theXlnere sig. the shadowy half - light - for Norah said not nificanee of accent can convey to ears which a word-" I confess I cannot possibly see any are on the alert. After Arthur's last speech, thing to suggest* the Rhine or Ehrenbreit. Norab, Leslie, Mrs. Sandford, and Carl, were stein in the present scene. The moon is a all as well aware as himself of his altered very slender link of association-if it is the feeling toward Max. Mrs. Middleton was the only one." only person onwhom the' subtle inflection of His slight pause before the last words his tone fell unperceived. As for Mr. Mid. made them very significant, and other ears dleton, he was taking a comfortable doze in a besides those of Tyndale and Norah caught shaded corner of the drawing-room, having the meaning which filled them. To Mrs. outlived his fancy for moonlight, and incline~ Sandford they brought a sudden illumination ing to the opinion that the night-air had ma- that absolutely startled her, and made her lana in it. cry "Eureka!" to herself. With Lealie-they "How stupid we are!" said Mrs. Sand. deepened the vague sense of suspicion which ford after a while, with a candid yawn. "Can't page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] AN UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT. 107 106 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. somebody do something for the general amuse- ment ?-Miss Desmond, won't yougo and sing forus?" "Pray do, Miss Desmond," said Mrs. Mid- dleton, courteously~ It was the best thing this lady knew of Norab, that she could sing. Miss Desmond yielded without demur- she was unusually quiet this evening, more than one Qf the party remarked-and, as she rose to enter the drawing-room, Tyndale rose also, somewhat to Leslie's surprise, greatly to Carl's indignation, and followed her. Being in advance, Norali was not aware of his presence until she reached the piano. Then, turning to say, "What shall I sing?" she found herself facing hi'm instead of Carl, as she expected. - She started a little, a flush which he knew to be one of anger rose to her face, and her lips enclosed impetuously. But sometimes it is possible to pause in the very act of utter- ance, and so Norah paused now. The reason of this was not far to seek. She had caught a glimpse of the bald top of Mr. Middleton's head, and, although several audible sounds indicative of slumber were proceeding from his nose, she was too cautious a woman to utter aloud the haughty words of impatience trembling on her tongue. "I thought you were Mr. Middleton," she said, with a quietness that amazed Tyndale; for he did nctsee the bald head or hear the sounds which it would have been an insult to call snoring. "I thought that I might venture to conic instead of Mr. Middleton," he answered, un- certain whether to augur good or ill from her sudden change of manner. "You asked what you should sing," he went on, quickly. "May I answer that question? May I say that I should like of all things to hear once again that little German song which you sang-do you remember?-that night at Coblents to which I alluded a little while ago?" "I remember," said Norah. She looked at him intently, almost curi- ously, as she spoke. Of what was this man made, that he ventured to brave her like this? Was he mad that he, who had every reason to conciliate her (if such a thing could be done), instead brought& forward memories which might have hardened the heart and strength- ened the resolution of a far less proud and passionate woman? It is impossible to say whether she felt most contempt or puzzled indignation as she stood looking at him with her keen, brilliant glance, but it is at least certain that she understood him far better than he understood her when she answered at last. "You mean the little German ballad called 'The Pledge?'" she asked. "Yes, I wiU sing it for you-that is, if I can remember it. I do not think I have sung it since that night at Coblentz, when I sat on the balcony with one who was to leave the next day, and watched the moon go down behind the vine- clad hills, with the voice of the Rhine in our ears." "My God! how I remember it all!" he said, passionately; but, as he spoke, a warn- ing glance in her eye made him stop short. "Will you go yonder, across the room, and look for my fan on one of those tables?" she said, quickly. While he obeyed, she sat down to the piano, and, when he came back, a single glance at his face showed her that lie had seen Mr. Middleton. She smiled, and, secure from any further allusion to the past, it may be that she was not averse to showing him her indifference to it. "This is the song yen mean, is it not?" she asked, striking a few chords, and then beginning to sing. It was a very beautiful ballad, though sufil- ciently simple in subject and execution-only a pledge of faith which a maiden gave her lover when they parted-but the theme was treated as only the Germans know how to treat such a theme, lifting, it out of the region of commonplace into the realm of pure artistic simplicity. Norah sang it exquisitely, with a pathos and sweetness which thrilled even those who were gathered on the veranda in the moon- light. "How charming!" cried Mrs. Sandford, "and with how much expression Miss Desmond is singing !-You understand German" (this to Carl); "tell us what it is about." "It is the promise of a girl to be faithful through all things to her lover," he answered -a coldness and constraint in his voice which it was impossible for him to disguise. "Oh I" said Mrs. Sandford~ To do her justice, she uttered that long-drawn exclama- tion involuntarily. It was little more than a thought spoken aloud. "How pretty such promises always are-in poetry and music," she added, after a minute, "and how pretty Miss flesmond looks while she sings it! ' "When does not Miss Desmond look pretty?" asked Carl, in a sharp, quick tone, full of mingled tenderness and jealousy, which was any thing but soothing to the ears or the feelings of Mrs. Middleton. He rose, as he spoke, from his own scat, and crossed over to where Mrs. Sandford was sitting, just outside one of the open windows. It was like looking at a picture to stand there in the fragrant darkness, and gaze down the the long room, with its mirrors, and paintings, and polished floor, to where Norah sat at the piano in her filmy white des~, with one scar- let flower glowing on her breast, another in the rich masses of her hair-only Carl was not cxaptly in that calm, msthetic frame of mind necessary for the appreciation of a work of art. He did not take in the general effect of the scene; his eyes were fastened on the face which just then wore its most lustrous beauty. How could he imagine what bitter memories of the past, what overpowering scorn of the present, had made that face blossom into such vivid loveliness of light and color? Even Tyndale thought that he had never seen it more beautiful; even he thought that it was the spell of the song-that subtle as- sociation which dwells in music as in odor- which had brought such glowing light to No- rah's eyes, such brilliant carmine to her cheeks. If the first cadence made him re- member that September night on the Rhine until his pulses throbbed, how must it be with her in whose mind the brief romance which ended then had dwelt more deeply and more constantly? It must not be supposed that he forgot, meanwhile, the letter resting safely in his pocket-book-that letter in which Norah said that her love for him had died so utter a death-but it was easier to believe that she had deceived herself, or that she meant to de- ceive her sister, than tbat such an assertion could possibly rest on fact. Beyond a certain point, credulity cannot go. This point in the general masculine mind is reached when it becomes necessary to believe that a woman has learned to forget, to ignore, or to despise, as the case may be, the ~aan whom she once loved. Let this man have good cause, or sometimes no cause, to imagine that any thing like a passion or a tender sentiment has been ~ntertained for him, and, in the face of rea- son, fact, and probability, he will retain a firm belief in his power to the last. So it was with Tyndale. He knew that Norah had loved him once, and consequently he no more believed that this love was dead than ho be- lieved that he was a fool, or any other patent absurdity. "I wonder what Leslie thinks of this pretty scene!" said Mrs. Sandford, in a dis- erect aside to Carl. "Upon my word, it is quite lover-like, is it not? What is Mr. Tyn- dale doing now? Looking over the music? But I thought it was one of Miss Desmond's affeeta-peculiarities, never to sing by note~" "So it is one of her peculiarities," said CarL "That is Leslie's music he is turning over. What he means by setting it up before Miss Desmond, I don't know. She does uot sing any of those mezzo-soprano songs." "He has a reason for it, you may be sure," said Mrs. Sandford, philosophically. A minute later this reason became appar- ent-much more apparent than Mr. Tyndale intended or desired. The piece of sheet-mu- sic which had been set up as a screen un- fortunately fell down just as he was in the act of offering a folded paper-apparently a note ---to Norah, which Norab, on her part, seemed hesitating whether or not to receive. The tableau only lasted a second. As the music fell forward on the key-board, her hesitation ended-she quietly accepted and slipped it unread into her girdle. Then she turned back to the piano and began singing again. Mrs. Saudford and Carl Middleton in- stinctively looked at each other. Both had seen so plainly and palpably what passed, that there was no room for evasion, no need for silence. "What a mysterious and dramatic bit of by-play 1" said the former, with her light, empty laugh. "Why cannot people say all that they want to while they are together, I wonder?" "Perhaps they lack opportunity to do so, and desire to make one," said Carl, bitterly. But the words were scarcely uttered be- fore he repented himself, and would have given much to recall them. This was be- cause he appreciated the feliX of having spo- ken so plainly to a woman like Mrs. Sand- ford. His repentance would have been still deeper if he had known that Leslie was stand- ing at his elbow when he uttered them. page: 108[View Page 108] 108 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. Let no one condemn Carl for absolute want of sense when it is recorded of him that he did not close his eyes in slumber during the short hours which remained of that moonlit summer nigh~t. There are two or three facts which may be pleaded in part extenuation of this act of folly. First, as Norah had once said in magnanimous excuse for him, he was young-and when one is young, one cannot only be guilty of a great deal of nonsense, but one can also dispense with a great deal of sleep with impunity. Secondly, he was in love-desperately, hopelessly in love, accord- ing to the impetuo~is though ofttimes short- lived fervor of the mercurial disposition. Thirdly, he was jealous-savagely jealous of the man who, he felt sure, was Norak's lover, oven while he was Leslie's fiane~. Fourthly, he was puzzled, more puzzled than can readi- ly be expressed, by Miss Desmond's inex- plicable conduct. Fifthly, the night was very warm - one of those breathless Southern nights when one's bed, instead of being that "heaven of rest" which Hood calls it, is strikingly suggestive of St. Lawrence's grid- iron; and, sixthly, he had just received a new box of very excellent cigars. All of these causes, combined and operat- ing together, were not conducive to somno- lence. With a ~nind irritatingly wide awake and bent onf thoughts of love and jealousy, he could see no reason for leaving the bal- cony, where he sat at ease, smoking cigar aft~r cigar, and obtaining the benefit of any breeze which chanced to be stirring, for rest- less tossing on a mattress within. There are some fortunate people who, in the face of* any trouble or annoyance, can take their usual quantum of rest-and of these we may confidently predicate that they will safely weather any storm which Fate may send upon them-but Carl was not one of them. It was also necessary to look at his face to read the sign - token of that high - strung, nervous organization which consumes itself with its own fire, and tears itself with its own strength. It would be as wise to bid such natures stop breathing as to bid them "take things easily," as we too often do. Stronger than any thing else in this strange world of ours-stronger than circumstances, resolution, love, or hate - is the resistless and mysterious strength of that which we have agreed to call temperament. Concerning the thoughts which occupied Carl's mind during the hours-first moonlit, and then starlit-that elapsed between the last good-nights down-stairs and the first lightening glow in the east, which told of breaking day, it is not necessary to enter into detail. His suspicions were, as yet, un- formed, his gathering wrath somewhat vague, not in itself, but as regarded the object against whom it was directed. At this time, a trifle might have made it waver again as it had wavered before. Afterward it was too late for this. Afterward not all the elo- quence of men or angels c6uld have turned him from his fixed belief; or his fixed pur- pose. Weary at last from his night's vigil, and conscious of being a little sleepy, he threw his last cigar away, as the glow of the east brightened and deepened into roseate splen- dor, and, leaning back with a yawn, made up his mind that he would "turn in." To make up one's mind to do a thing, however, and to do it, are occasionally very different things. Just now they proved very different indeed with CarL He had scarcely taken his reso- lution, and he certainly had not as yet moved an inch toward carrying it into execution, when the sound of an opening blind near at hand made him start. This. start was not because there was any thing remarkable in the fact of a blind being opened at daylight on a summer morning-.though people sleep- ing on the eastern side of the house would have been more likely to close theirs-as be- cause sleeplessness and tobacco had together produced their natural effect of nervousness, together with the fact that the sound ap- peared to proceed from Miss Desmond's room, which chanced to be in the neighborhood of his own. A minute later it was repeated, and then he knew that it proceeded from her room. Immediately Suspicion sprang up, ready~ armed and on the alert. What was ~orah doing awake at that hour? It was impossible to fancy it could be a servant, for the servants at Rosland had far too much re- gard for their own comfort, and knew the habits of their master and mistress too well, to rouse themselves at such a time. For ten minutes Carl sat listening intently, with strained attentIon, for any further proof of matutinal rising on Miss Desmnond's part. All night he had spent in going over and over accordingg to the distracting fashion of night meditation) that little scene at the piano-all 108 page: Illustration-109[View Page Illustration-109] EARLY RISING. night he had taken an active part, as counsel for the defense, in an exhaustive mental ar- gument to prove that there could have been nothing of importance in that folded paper which looked so suspiciously like a note. Now, he found, in the most discouraging man- ner, that his trouble had all been for naught. At the first sound from Norah'5 room, his thoughts flew back to the suspicion-point of the night before. What was in that note? What was the meaning of this early rising? Reason said it did not follow of necessity that there was any connection between the two facts. Instinct said, "You may be sure that there is a connection of the closest kind." Between the two, Carl felt not a little puz- zled; but he inclined toward instinct, as, in little or in great, we all more or less do in- cline. Besides, there was reason on that sidetoo. He had known Miss Desmond well enough and long enoughto be aware that she had nothing of the lark in her composition. Only the day before he had heard her say that there was nothing she detested*so much as early rising; and now- Well, he thought, the man would be fit for a lunatic asylum, indeed, who expected consistency in a woman; and, after all, the fact of the open blind did not prove that she had risen. She might have wanted a little air (of which there was not the least stirring), or she might have wanted to admire the sun- rise. This last idea was so improbable that he caught himself smiling over it; and, as he did so, the sun, which had been reddening the tree-tops for some time, rose in full ma- jesty; the first idvel, golden lines of light came slanting across the green, dewy earth, and in the crystal cnp of day Lay melted the pe4rl of dawn." The marvelous stillness, freshness, and beauty of the scene arrested ev~i Carl's un- observant gaze. For a tainute he forgot his passionate, jealous thoughts, in admiration of the picture outspread before him-the shadows, long and deep as those of afternoon, the sunlight full of still glory, the sparkling freshness of grass and foliage, the purple mist clinging softly to the. distant hills, the lucid clearness and brightness of the air. As he looked and listened-for, from copse ~snd tree rose the matin song of many feathered char- isters-another sound made him start, and diverted his attention in a moment from all the glory of Nature. This sound was the soft enclosing of a door immediately beneath his balcony. Instantly he leaned forward and looked over the railing. As he did so, a light-gray dress fluttered below, a figure wearing a straw hat stepped into full view, and the next mo- ment he recognized Norah Desmnond as she walked with her quick, stately tread across the dewy grass. Careless- whether or not she should turn and see him, Carl sat motionless, staring after her as she crossed the lawn and disap- peared along a winding path of the shrub- bery. What did it mean? This was what he asked himself-ignoring the fact that Miss Desmond was at liberty to take as many walks at sunrise as she felt inclined to, with- out any one possessing the right (he, least of all) to inquire why she did so. "She has gone to meet that scoundrel!" he said, after a while, striking his clinched hand violently on the railing against which he leaned, hurt- ing it severely, by-the-by- only people do not mind such trifles as this when they are excited. Having decided that she had gone to meet~ the scoundrel in question, Carl felt himself fired with the spirit of one. of Mr Wilkie Collins's detectives. There was only a single. objection to following her and settling, the point at once: this was an inconvenient sen- ~Iment of honor, a~ inconvenient feeling that, as a gentleman, he had no right and little en-. cuse for prying into Miss Desmond's affairs, and sitting in judgment on her conduct. But' then, if he meant to serve her-as he did mean to serve her, by showing Arthur~ Tyn- dale that he could not, with impufmity, play- such a part between herself and Leslie-was it not necessary for him to know the truth? This view of the case struck l~im forcibly, and seemed unanswerable. Certainly it was neces- sary that he should know the truth; certain- ly, also, there was no other means for learn- ing it than this which seemed to him in a measure dishonorable, Yet, after all, was he not regam~ding the matter in rather an exag- gerated light? Was it dishonorable to sat- isfy himself-by sight, merely-of a matter concerning which it was vitally important that he should possess satisfaction? The strictest of moral casuiste might have been excused for answering "No." At least, this was Carl's view of the ease. 169 V KU I' page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] 110 A DAUCLITER OF BOHEMIA. A BUSINESS APPOINTMENT. 111 Just then, probably, he was a particularly strict moral casuist. Few of us are when our own desires and interests are at stake. Unquestionably the matter ended as might have been expected. He entered his room, dressed quickly, and, going down-stairs as quietly as possible, passed out of the door which Norah had left ajar, and followed the path which she had taken into the shrub- bery. Ten minutes later, he came in sight of the Dutch summer-house-toward which the in- stinet, that occasionally serves as a mariner a compass on dry land, led his feet. It was there that Norah had gone, he felt sure; it was there that he would learn the best or worst of that which he desired to know. Full of this conviction-a conviction ap- proaching to a positive certainty-he paused in the shrubbery at some distance from the summer-house, contenting himself with com- manding a good view of the door. All he desired was to see; no casuistry could have convinced him for a moment that it was hon- orable to hear. He waited for some time without any thing occurring which justified the suspicion that had brought him there. "I am a fool!" he thought, and was about to turn away and to resume his search in another direction, when suddenly his heart gave a great throb that almost suffocated him. Framed in the summer - house window at. that moment he saw Norah's beautiful, grave face gazing out over the bright landscape which he had showed her first; and, almost simultaneously with this picture, his eye caught a glimpse of Arthur Tyndale's graceful figure advancing rapidly from the opposite direction. CHAPTER XIX. "Woman, and will you east, For a word, quite off, at last, Me, your own, your you- Since, as Truth is true, I was you all, the hippy past- Me do you leave aghast With the memories we amassed?" NonAn was standing, with her hack to the door, gazing half abs~ently out of the open window, when the sound of Tyndale's step, as he entered the summer-house, made her start and turn around. By the quick lighting-up of his eye, the quick flush of pleasure which rose to his face, it was evident that he had not been at all certain of finding her; but the expression of her face did not change in the least as she walked slowly forward and paused at the table in the centre of the floor. Evi- dently she was there for a purpose, and evi- dently, also, it was one with which pleasure had little to do. "You are late," she said, quietly, before he could utter any salutation. "I have been waiting for some time." "Have you? I am sorry, very sorry!" he answered, with the flush deepening on his face. It is always awkward to be late in keeping an appointment which one has made one's self; but Tyndale was a man who piqued himself on the observance of the little things in which high-breeding consists, and he knew that for a gentleman to be late in keeping an appointment with a lady is an unpardonable social offense. "How can I ask you to par- don me?" he said. "I had no idea you would be~able to leave the hous&so early-it is very early, you know." "Is it?" said she, carelessly. "But, after all, early is a relative term. If one had been awake all night, for instance, one might eall it late." "Fins have not been awake all night, I trust?" (rather tenderly). "No" (very indifferently). "But I slept brokenly, and the heat was intense. What i~ it Hood says?- 'They must be wretched who cannot sleep When God himself draws the curtain!' Well, I was not particularly wretched-n~t wretched at~ all, in fact-but still I did not sleep. I had bad dreams and bad dreams al- ways upset me for the day. I dreamed about you!" (with startling directness). ~ hopeyou don't mean to imply that your dreams were bad because they were of "Yes, I mean to imply just that-they were bad because they were of you! But I dreamed of other disagreeable things, also, and therefore I was glad when day dawned, and the night was over. I did not come to talk of my dreams, however," said she, sitting down. "Suppose we proceed at once to busi- ness? Early or late, I cannot spend much time here." "I have not yet told you how glad, how 110 happy I am to find you!" he began, eagerly; but she interrupted him. "There is not the slightest reason why you should be either glad or happy. I am here simply because your note seemed to in- dicate that there was an urgent necessity for you to see me. The more briefly you tell nie what this necessity is, the more indebted to you I shall be." "You will not even allow me to thank you- "Have I not explained that there is noth- ing for which to thank me?" she interrupted, again. "I have not come on your account, or because you desired it. Pray understand this at once. It will save time and words- neither of which I like to waste." "Then, if you did not come on my ac- count, or because I desired it, may I venture to inquire to what I am indebted for your presence?" asked he, irritated, against his will, by the seW-possession of her manner, the contemptuous indifference of her tone. "I have already told you," said she, "that you are indebted to the assurance of your note-an assurance given on your honor-if such a trifling form of asseveration has any weight with you-that there Was an impera- tive need for you to see me. I credited this," she added, "not so much because you asserted it as because I was myself able to imagine what the need in question might be." "Were you, indeed?" said he. The ever- changing flush on his face deepened again. He could not be with her five minutes without being galled to the quick, and yet he was so far gone in madness that he would not have exchan~cd this bitterness for all the honey that ever dropped from lips of coral. "In that case, it may save time and words if you will be kind enough to tell me what you have imagined this need to be." "Is that necessary?" asked she. "Is there more than one thing which I could have imagined it to be?" "There is certainly more than one tfiing which you could have imagined," answered he, with more coolness than he had displayed before, "since there is more than one thing of which I desire urgently to speak to you." "A desire is one thino-- a need is quite another. You said nothing of the first, but a great deal of the last; in your note2' "I fancied that the latter would have more weight with you than the former." "You were quite right," she rejoined. "The former would have had no weight at all." Then she added, impatiently: "The purpose for which I am here has nothing to do with listening to idle speeches, how- ever; and any thing more idle than a discus- sion of your desires it would be impossible to imagine. Since the interview is of your seeking, I might insist that all necessary ex- planation should come from you ; but perhaps it may shorten matters to say at once that, when I read your note, I felt little doubt but that the 'urgent need,' upon which you laid so much stress, was the need of telling me a fact of which I am already well aware-that Leslie is on the eve of knowing, if she does not already know, the whole story of that folly in which you were overheard at Straf- ford the other day." "Leslie on the eve of knowing the folly in which I was overheard at Strafford the other day!" repeated he, too thoroughly as- tonished to do otherwise than echo her words. "I do not understand. What do you mean?" "What do I mean?" repeated she, losing patience altogether. "Are you crazy or stu- pid that you do not know what I mean? Is it possible you have forgotten that there was a spy ambushed in the library - window at Strafford, who overheard all that you were foolish enough to say on the terrace that day?" "I trust that I am neither crazy nor stu- pid," answered he. "I remember now. You are speaking of Mrs. Sandfor& But I do not think there is any thing to fear from her. In the first place, it is not at all probable that she overheard any thing. In the second place, even if she had done so, I have no idea that she would think of interfering to make mischief!" "Have you not?" said Norah. She looked at him with a glance which he had often before encountered, and felt to be of an uncomfortably keen nature. With all her hardly-earnea worldly wisdom, one thing, which this daughter of Bohemia had not learned, or disdained to practise, was the im- portant art of never appearing to see too much or read too clearly. Especially in a woman is this art essential. Last of all ~things which a man can forgive, is the con- sciousness that the companion of his hours of relaxation, the smoother of his pillow of 111 page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] 112 A DAUGHTJIR OF BOHEMIAN. ARTHUR'S INCONSTANCY. 113 cares, has regarded him with steady, level gaze, has sounded the depths of that ofttimes shallow well which he calls his mind, has ventured to sit in criticism on his errors of judgment, and learned to know his weak points as well or better than he knows them himself. Thoroughly aware of this fact, many women keep their lids drooped on sys- tern, only lifting them to look up in that meek attitude of adoration fit for th~ weaker yes- sel and humbler creature. "I have known Mrs. Sandford a long time," he said, in answer to the incredulity of her glance, "and I have never seen any trace of malice in her. She is foolish and vain, but I do not think she would act in a dishonorable manner." "But Mrs. SandCord may not think that she is acting in a dishonorable manner in putting Leslie on her guard against two such grass deceivers as you and I," said Norab, with a sudden gleam of laughter, which Tyn- dale felt to be very ma? cl propo~, indeed, coming into her eyes-that devil-may-care gleam of Irish humor which there is not trouble enough. on all this round earth of trouble to quell. "No doubt she defends the step-or would defend it if it were as- sailed-on very high moral grounds. Can you not imagine what they might be, Mr. Tyndale?" "I cannot imagine hi the least," answered lie, coldly, suspicious of the satire lurking under her words. "My imagination is nei- ther so ready nor sa brilliant as your own. I am only confident that you do her injus- tice." "It is bad policy to be 'confident' of any thing or of anybody," said Norab. "That is article first of my worldly creed. Let me recommend you to make it an article of yours. If you had done so a little earlier, you would not be astonished when I tell you that Mrs. Sandford has already made one confidant, and may soon make another." "One confidant!" repeated he, aghast. "Good Heavens! are you in earnest? Who? -what ?-when?" "Your cousin, Captain Tyndale, was the 'who;'the 'what,' I have no doubt, was all that she knew, together with as much as she could invent; the 'when' was yesterday morning in the shrubbery." "Afar! has she told Max? Are you sure ?-is there no mistake?" "I scarcely think there can be any mis- take. He implied as much ve~y plainly when speaking to me yesterday; but, before he could enter into any explanation, we were interrupted." "Max!" repeated Arthur. lie did not say so, but he felt that he would almost as soon it had been teslie. "The meddling, prying eavesdropper!" he said, alluding to Mrs. Sandford. "To think that she should take advantage of a mere accident to inter- fere in a matter which does not concern her in the least! In the name of"-a pause- "Heaven, what can be her motive?~~ "Have you generally found that it is at all worth while to trouble one's self with re- gard to people's motives?" asked Norah, calmly. "When one finds them, they are generally so very small and so very shabby that one hardly feels repaid for the search." "What did Max say?" asked he, eagerly. "How did he take it?" "I have~ already mentioned that we were interrupted before he had time to say any thing." "And Leslie; do you think she knows? Do you think that-that woman has told her any thing?" "I cannot tell; but she was alone with that woman for two or three hours yesterday afternoon." "Was there ever a man so deceived and betrayed as I have been!" said Tyndale, in a Hamlet-like tone. "You think that I have acted badly," he added, turning irripetuously to Norah, "but, if you could only know how others have treated me! There's Max, for instance; I would have trusted Max, if all tl~e women in the world had proved false, and yet even he has failed me!" "I should scarcely have fancied that," said Norab. She wondered a little what had come be- tween these two men, one of whom had so warmly advocated the other's cause two days before, but she did not choose to ask. Max Tyndale was nothing to her save the hopeless and deserving lover who might probably, at the end of the (drama, marry Leslie Gra- hame. "None of this is of any importance," she went on, in her decided fashion. "The ques- tion is not 'Who has deceived or who be- trayed you?' but 'What is to be done?' Will you tell Leslie the truth, or shall I?" "Tell Leslie-the truth!" he stammered Such a downright and uncompromising d mand almost took away his breath. Wa she mad-this beautiful, imperious creature of whom his fear was even more lively thai his admiration? "Yes, the truth!" repeated Miss Des mond, looking at him steadily. '~Does th word frighten you? Well, it is sometimes hard thing-this truth-but, at its worst, is never so hard as the consequences of tha other thing called falsehood. You migh' have learned this fragment of wisdom som time since." "You are plainly determined to teach ii to me," said he, with paling lips. "God knows it would have been better if I hac told Leslie the truth at ~lrst, but now-it h too lat0!" "Too late for what?" asked Norah'E trenchant voice. "Is it ever too late to stef out of the mire on to dry land? Po you mean too late on account of Mrs. Sandford? If you speak bravely and openly, even Mrs. Sandford's story will weigh little with Leslie. But I warn you frankly that it is only by speaking openly that you can save yourself. Sooner or later, Leslie must know the truth. If you and I are silent, sh&will learn it from others." "Apparently you do not m to be si- lent," said he, catching at her last words. "You are mistaken," she answered. "I decided yesterday that Leslie should not hear the truth from me; I made up my mind that I would go back to the old vagabond life at the first excuse, and leave her unmo- lested in her fools' paradise. But you see that the matter has been taken out of my hands. Your own folly has betrayed your secret to a person who will not hesitate to use it unscrupulously. Hence I-who have no interest in the matter save the interest of honestly desiring to scare Leslie, who has honestly attcmp~ed to serve me-I tell you - that your only hope of saving yourself in her eyes is to go and speak the truth, as a more honorable man would have spoken it long ago." "You are hard on me,'~ he said, changing color from white to red and red to white again. "You have been hard on me from the first! Can you not comprehend that a man may be ted into things without meaning to act falsely or dishonorably? If you could 8 only understand how little I meant to act ~- toward you as I have done-!" a "Your conduct toward me requires no ~, apology," said she. "You have greatly mis- a understood all that I have said if you think it necessary to offer one." "I have not misunderstood a single word e that you have uttered," answered he, quickly. i "I am not offering an apology. It is the t last thing I should think of offering to you. t I only hope you will grant as much credence and attention to what I am about to say as I have given you." "I am afraid I must ask you to be kind enough to 'speak briefly," answered she, I glancing at her watch. "I have already I spent more time than I intended." "Can you not even spare me a few min- utes?" demanded he, half angrily - " you who give long hours to Max, and that Mid. dleton puppy, whom I suppose you intend to I marry!" "Do you?" said she, indifferently; but she did not add, "lamor am no~ going to do so." Plainly Mr. Tyndale must under- stand his position was that of a mere ac- quaintance-of one to whom she allowed no part or interest in her life. "But thia~ is wandering from the subject of which you in- tend to speak," she added. "I hope you ~mean to explain that 'urgent need' for my presence which you have not explained yet- since it seems that I was wrong in my idea concerning it." "How can I explain any thing when you treat me like this, when you remove me to such an infinite distance from you?" said he, with a sudden vibration of passion in his voice which startled her, for she was not expecting any thing of the kind just then. "You must know, you must feel, what it is that I wish to say! That 'folly' of which you talk, at Strafford the other day, was nearer wisdom than folly.. You urge me to tell Leslie the trnth. Do you know what it would be if I did tell her? It could only be that I love you, Norah-you only, you forever, you so far dbove all other women, that I would rath- er be miserable with you than find myself condemned to live without you!" "That is unfortunate!" said Norah-her clear, cold voice making an indescribable contrast to the passionate eagerness of his- "since you are not likely to possess the option of being miserable with me! I fear, page: 114[View Page 114] A DAUGHTER 01? BOHEMIA. on the contrary, that yon will find yourself reduced to the necessity of heing happy with. out me-only, for your consolation, I can honestly say that I do not think a gentleman who changes his mind and his fancy so often, will be likely to find an exceeding amount of happiness in any position of life." "For God's sake, spare me your mock- ery!" said he, hoarsely. "If you could know what I have suffered during the last few days, you would pity me. I never knew what the hell of jealousy was until I have endured it in seeing you surrounded by other men, each of whom has had a better right to yQUF time and attention than I! At last I could bear it no longer, and I determined to make one effort to gai~i an opportunity-this opportunity-to tell you all that is impera- tive you should know-" She interrupted him here. ." Imperative to whom 1'" she-asked. "To me principally; to you, I hope, in a measure," he answered, Then he leaned across the table which divided them, and would have taken her hands if she had not drawn back haughtily. "Norah," he said -and the supreme excitement of his voice seemed to clash on the still air-," I swear to you that I love you more passionately, more intensely, than I did when we were so happy two years ago, at Baden! You are infinitely dearer, infinitely mere necessary, to me than on the night we parted in Coblents. Norab, have you in love left for me? Is it all dead? Can I bring none of it to life again by the de- votion of a lifetime? 0 lqve! love !-they say that women never forget. Oh, if I could only hope that you would come to me again as you caine to me once before!" He stopped abruptly, partly because he was out of breath, and partly because there was something exceedingly discouraging to any prolonged effort of eloquence in the steady brilliance of Norab's eyes. Not for a moment had this gaze wavered from his face; not once bad the long lashes drooped in becoming maidenly shyness, or the flush on her cheeks deepened. Her self-possession was simply imperturbable, unruffled by any sign of cpu. fusion or trace of indignation. When he ceased speaking, she answered him as. quietly as if he had made the most commonplace proposal in the world: "And if I came to you, Mr. Tyndale, pray what would you do with me? We do not live in Asia, and I believe you are engaged to marry Leslie." "But 1 was en~qaged to you first 1" an- swered he, with a sudden flash of hope light.. ing up his face. Surely, this girl, with her passionate Irish blood, her reckless Bohemian rearing, would never have taken his declara- tion so coolly as this, unless she meant to grant all that he desired. "Norab, have you forgotten that? I can never forget it. I was engaged to you first, and I love you-hence my first duty is to you," "In other words," said she, leaning on the table, and looking more intently than ever into his face, "you are kind enough to offer to break your engagement with Leslie for me. Is that it? I always like things put into plain English." "I offer to put the engagement aside, and act as if it 4id not exist, which, in truthit does not," he answered, with a ring of de- fiance in his voice. "A man cannot be bound to two women, and I gave my faith and my heart to you two years ago. Do you remem- ber the pledge we exchanged when we parted in Coblentz? What I desire, above all things, now is, to redeem that pledge." "How?" demanded she, laconically. "Is there more than one way ~" asked he, thinking that surely no man, in making a proposal, was ever assailed by such point- blank questions before. "We promised to marry each other, Norah; and I-I am more than willing to fulfill that promise now." Men seldom talk well when they are mak- ing love-unnumbered novelists and poets to the contrary notwithstanding-.--but, if Tyn. dale talked uii~esually badly, it can at least be said for him that he talked at a remarkable disadvantage. Very few men, at such a time, have the misfortune to address an attention critically on the alert, much less to feel a pair of steady eyes gazing through and through them. Into those eyes there came a sudden gleam at h~s last words; but, as it came quickly, so, also, i~ vanished. "now kind og you!" said she, but so quietly that only the words themselves be- trayed their irony. "Have you made any arrangement by which this generous inten- tion can be converted into an accomplished fact?" He looked at her doubtfully. Never had he felt more thoroughly puzzled how to 114 page: Illustration-115[View Page Illustration-115] A PROPOSED ELOPEMENT. 115 ~' take" her. Was she in earnest, or was she only amusing herself with him? She had been so little in the habit of amusing herself with.him of late, however, and it was so exceedingly improbable that she would se- lect such a subject as this on which to begin, that he finally' decided she must he in ear- nest. "Arrangernento are easily made," he an. swerved. ~' I have thought of one plan which seems to me feasible. It is, that to-day-to- night-to-morrow-any time you choose, but the sooner the better-you should meet me at some appointed rendezvous, from which we can drive to Wexford, and take the train for Alton. As soon as we reach the latter place, we will be married; and then, if you desire it, we can sail at once for Europe." - "Ak-c you in earnest?" asked she, chan- ging color for the first time. "Do you really mean this?" "Try me I ". said he, passionately. "That is all I ask. Appoint the hour, and let inc show you whether or not I am in earnest." She was silent for a minute, which seemed an hour to him. Then she said, abruptly, with the air of one who has definitely made up her'niind: "There is a train which passes' Wexford at ten o'clock at night for Altoi,, is there not? How would that answer for your pnr- pose? I should say our purpose, should I not? You -know there will be some ~eoplc here for dinner this evening, and Leslie talks of a moonlight croquet-party. It will afford aim ~xeellent opportunity for leaving unob- served2' "It will be an excellent opportunity," said he, eager still, but certainly amazed. He had not flattered himself with any antici- ration of such quick success as this, end- and it rather tslonished him. He attributed it, however, to. the resistless passion which, despite all her asseverations to the contrary, Norah still felt for him; and, being somewhat beside himself with passion~ for her, he bad little disposition to find fault with it. "To- night, then!" he said, quickly. "And now, 0 my darling, how can I-" Do what, waS never detes-mnined; for at that moment she rose to her feet, looking at her watch again as she did so. "I %lndthat I have considerably exceeded the time which I allowed for your explana- tion," she said, coolly. "Its novel and en- grossing nature must bemy excuse. I have never before been invited to elope-much less to be actively instrumental in the jilting of m.y own sister. Let me thank you for a new sensation, Mr. Tyndale, as well as for half an bour'~ excellent entertainment. And now, gOQd.n3orning I" She bent her head-the mockery which, of all her moods, he hated most, quivering about her lips and shining in her eyes-and would have swept past him to the door, if he had not stepped quickly forward and barred her path, as he had done once- before in that very spot. "By-" he said, forgetting himself far enough to utter a deep, bitter oath under his breath, "you shall not go like this? Yog shall tell me the truth at least, before you do go! flave you deliberately been making ~ fool of me? Have you been lying to me with your eyes and with your tongue all thin time? Do you not mean to marry me, after all?" "Marry you!" repeated she, turning upon him with a scorn in her face and in her voice which was fairly majestic-" marry you, Ar. thur Tyndale-yan! Not if there was never another man on all God's earth! And when you talk of my eyes or of my tongue lying to you," she went on, indignantly,. "it is you who lie I-you whose lips the truth seems lit. rally incapable of crossing! I have only questioned you, and gauged, or tried to gauge, the depths ~f your deceit. Iu doing this, I have not only found you false jn thought, word, au4 deed, ready at a moment's notice to act toward Leslie as you have already aote* toward me; but I have also foundyou devei4 of ope sentiment of~ generosity~ or one;idea of honor. Well as I knew you, I eamne here to offer you my best services and mybest ad- vice for Leslie's sake. Now, I am hear~ly glad that yo~i accepted neither. II~leaire~s me free to act a~ I think best; Let sue pass~ sir! I dare ~'ou, at your peril) to detain me, one half.second.loager!" - A man of thrlceArthur Tyndale's mQral courage would ~mave fallen back, at that mi- periou~ comn~aad, and before the look of-dc. fiance which accompanied her last words. As he fell back, she passed out, and he- thus left alone-sat down like one half- stunned, and, flinging his arms across the table, buried his face upon them. When Norah reached the house, she found that even yet no one was stirring. The ser- f I, 5- I, C' S I- 115 page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. vants had arisen in the interval of her ab- sence and done their work, so that all the lower apartments stood open, fair, and cool, and fresh, to the early summer morning; but an enchanted palace could not have been more still. She glanced at the large, old- fashioned clock-Mr. Middleton's special pet, for it had been brought over from England by his grandfather-which faced her as she entered the hall. It pointed to seven o'clock, and she knew that breakfast was never ready before nine. "What am I to do with myself all this time?" she thought, with a slight feeling of dismay. Somehow one feels an odd, incumbent ne- cessity to do something with one's self- something useful or virtuous-when, by an extraordinary chance, one is astir very much In advance of one's usual time of rising. Then Norah's pulses were still thrilling with an excitement which even yet had not quieted down. The first thing which occurred to her was that she must change her dress, her dew- draggled skirts bearing significant witness to the wet grass which she had crossed, the damp paths she had followed; but, with two unoceu~ied hours stretching before her, she feltthat there need be no hurry about this. If she went up-stairs at eight o'clock, there would be quite time enough for a much more elaborate toilet than any she was likely to make. Meanwhile the sitting-room looked temptingly cool and delightful, with its half- closed Venetian blinds, through which the long, golden sunbeams of early morning were stealing. She crossed the hall and went in. After all, she must take time for reflection; she must consider at once what she meant to do; and there could be no better opportunity for such consideration than the present. As she entered the room, with her hat still on her bead, she was thinking of this so deeply, and expecting so little to see any one, that she had more than half-crossed the floor before she became aware of the presence of a gentleman, who rose from the depths of Mrs. Middleton's favorite chair with an open news- paper in his hand. "Good-morning, Miss Desmond," he said. And then, looking up with a start, Norah found that she was advancing directly upon Max Tyndale. CHAPTER XX., "For a chance to make your little much, To gain a lover hnd lose a friend, Venture the tree and a myriad such, When nothing you mar, but the year can mend But a last leaf-fear to touch. "GOOD-MORNING, Miss Desmond." "Good - morning, Captain Tyndale," an- swered she. "Excuse my inattention, but I was not expecting to see any one." "You could not have been expecting it less than I was," said he, smiling. "I know the habits of the household so well that I had resigned myself to at least two hours of prospective solitude." "Your resignation was apparently ac~ companies with philosophy,"' said she, glan- cing from the newspaper to the arm-chair. "Don't be alarmed, and imagine that I have come to disturb you! I am on my way up. stairs to change my dress before breakfast; but I felt a little tired, and this room looked cool and inviting." "You seem to have been walking," said he, glancing in turn from her hat to her dew- stained boots and skirt. "Pray sit down" ~ -he drew a chair forward. "You are not disturbing me in the least." " Thanks~" said she, sinking almost in- voluntarily into the ~oft depths. As she did so, he saw that she was evidently more than "a little tired." Indeed, she looked so ex- hausted that for a second he was absolutely startled. "Shouldn't you like a fan?" he asked, glancing round vaguely in search of onc~ "Or water? I can ring and have some brought, if you say so." She shook her head. "I shall do very well, thank you, without any thing. I am only tired because I am not accustomed to .such matutinal exertion." "If you are not accustomed to it, I scarcely think you are wise to begin in this climate, and at this time of year. Do you not know that it is a maxim of health with all Southern people to stay in-doors until the dew is dried?" "If it is a maxim of health, it is one which you seem to disregard with impunity," said she, looking at kis boots. "Oh, a soldier should not mind trifles, you know," said he. (Max always fell back on his profession when a question of health 116 came up.) "Besides, I was restless last night, I could not sleep-something in the atmosphere, I suppose-and there was noth- ing for it but to turn out early this morning. Arthur left the house before I did, and, fancy- ing that he was coming over here to break- fast, I followed. But it seems I was mista- ken. If he is coming, he has not yet arrived." He looked at Norah very steadily as he uttered the last words, and Norah returned his glance unflinchingly. "I do not think Mr. Tyndale is coming," she said. "At least, he did not mention such an intention when I left him ten minutes ago." "You have seen him, then l" said. Max. He could not help starting, though he added -almost involuntarily, as it seemed-" I sus- pectesl as much." "I hav6 had the pleasure of seeing him by appointment," she proceeded, with a cool- ness so unruffled that it amused even while it perplexed him. "You suspected t1~at, also, perhaps." "No," answered he, sitting down again in the chair from which he had risen, and looking at her very doubtfully-much as he might have looked at a spot where he had reason to suspect the existence of masked batteries-" no, I did not suspect that." "Yet what could have been more natu-~ ral? Think how ruthlessly your friend Mrs. Sandford interrupted the most tender point ~of our interview at Strafford the other day, ~nd then wonder, if you can, that we should 'have been anxious to resume it as soon as possible." * "I have ceased to wonder at any thing which a woman may say or do," answered 'he, dryly. "Whether you are in earnest or. whether you are in jest, Heaven only knows -but, in either case, your conduct is quite inexplicable to me." "Is your cousin's conduct any more ex- plicable to you?" asked she. "Or have you ceased, also, to wonder at any thing which a man may do? Of the two, that would be the more useful frame of mind." "My cousin's conduct is sufficiently ex- plicable;" said he, with his whole face dark. ening. "He is not the first man whom I have known to forget where his honor and faith are due!" "It would be rather difficult to decide to urhom your cousin's honor anti faith are due, NORAR'S ARRANGEMENTS. 117 would it not?" said she, carelessly. "A little while ago, he thought that they were due tQ Leslie. Now he decides that they are due to me." "Does he?" said Max, his face darkening still more; "and I suppose you agree with. him?" "4Jould I do 'other than agree with him? Captain Tyndale-you who have been prejudiced against me from the begin. ning-whether his honor and faith (as much as he has of either) do not belong to me by a better right than they do to Leslie?" "If you mean that he was bound to you first, I grant that" (a little reluctantly). " But still-" "But still," her lip curling proudly, "a Bohemian like myself-a bit of vagabond, flirting material-should know better than to take an pied de is retire all that a fine gentle- man may chance to say in the course of a summer idling!" "Iwas not going to say that, Miss Des- mond. You know I was not going to say that!" "What does it matter whether you were going ~o say it or not? ' You meant it. And you are not far wrong. Of course, it would be nonsense to talk of Mr. Tyndale's being bound to me if he was not good enough to allow the fact himself." If she had not taken pleasure just them in mocking herself in the bitterness of her spirit, she might have laughed outright at the expression of Max's eyes, as he regarded her-it was so grave and so thoroughly puz- zled. What to make of her he certainly did not know. She had been an enigma to him from the first. One while he thoroughly dis- trusted, and again as thoroughly trusted her. l{ow he did neither; he simply wondered what she meant. "Captain Tyndale," she said, suddenly, with impetuous decision, "why should we not speak plainly and understand each other? We have nothing to lose; we may have some- thing to gain by it. lam a waif and a stray, who n~ay naturally be supposed to want a home, who may naturally be excused for taking one, even under slightly unfavorable circumstances, if it were offered. You are in love with Leslie~ Nay "-holding up her hand imperatively, as he attempted to speak -" hear me out. We may serve each other's interests better than you think-at least I page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] 118 A DAUGIITEIl may serve your interests. What wilJ you give i~e, for example, to accept an offer of marriage which Mr. Tyndale has generously made to me this morning-the fulfillment, you know, of our two years' engagement- dnd in this way leave the coast clear for you?" "Miss Desmond I" It was fairly a gasp. Never had Max Tyndale beOn sothoroughly astonished.-never had his breath been so completely taken away by any creature born of woman as by this audacious girl. She had pushed her hat back from her flushed, beautiful face; her defiant eyes faced hltn fully. If she was not in earnest, it was at least certain that no one ever appeared more thoroughly so. "Well," she said, after a minute, quite impatiently, "lam waiting for your answer. You cannot def~y that you are in love with Leslie. I have been that from the first, and my eyes never deceive me. Now, if I elope with Arthur, as he is kind enoug~i to pro- pose that I shoi4d do, you will be able, with the least possible exercise of discretion and judgment, to step Into his vacated place." "Do you mean to tell me,'~ said Max, de- liberately, "that you are in carnest.-that Arthur has seriously asked you to elope with him?" "I am so entirely in earnest that the af- fair is ~ll arranged. We are to take ]'rench leave of Leslie's croquet.party to-night, to drive to Wexford, and take the ten-o'clock train for Alton. Arrived in the latter place, we can be~married at once) and sail for Eu- rope immediately thereafter. V~i14 foul?". "Arthur proposed this!" said Max, his breath coming short and hard, "anl you-- may I venture~ to ask what you said to such an arrangement?" "Can you doubt that I dropped a cour- tesy, and thanked very humbly the gentleman who was kind enough to reward my long con- stanc~ by ~u~h a gratifying offer?" "I can imagine any thing in the world sooner than that you accepted it," said he, bluntly. "And pray why not?" asked she. "Is it nOt more than good en~iugh for me? Bah! Captain Tyndale, a truce to nonsense. Tell me, instead, whether you are prepared to take advantage of the golden opportunity which Arthur and I.-liberally aided and abetted by Mrs. Sandford'-...'mcan to give you?" "If you will excuse me," said Max, "it is you who are talking nonsense. I no more believe that you have agreed to elope with Arthur-well, than I believe that you have agreed to elope with me I" Then, after a short pause: "If you will only meet me frankly, as you did once before, and tell me what he has really said, and what you really mean to do, I shall be infinitely indebted to you." "That is exactly what I don't know. I have no idea what I mean to do, or what I ought to do," answered she, suddenly drop- ping her tone of defiant mockery, and looking at him wi~h grave, anxious eyes. "What shdll I do? Shall I pack my trunk, and tell Leslie the truth, or shall I simply leave her to learn, suspect, or guess it, as best she can?" "God knows ! "answered he. "The mat- ter has grown so complicated that it is far beyond my diplomatic abilities, which, as you are aware, were never of the best. It seems impossible to leave Miss Grahame in ignorance of Arthur's conduct, and yet it will be a terrible thing to tell her the truth." "But if we leave it untold, there is Mrs. Sandford ready to enlighten her," said Norah. lIe glanced at her quickly and keenly. "You know, then, that Mrs. Sandford was in the library at Strafford when-" "When our p'eux ~e1aeva1ier offered inc his hand and heart-or I believe it was only his heart on that occasion?" she said, as he paused. "Yes, I know it. So Leslie may hear the truth-or at least a garbled version of it-any day." "There, I think, you are mistaken," said he. "Mrs. Sandford promised me yesterday that she would, on no consideration, mention the matter to Miss Grahame." "Mrs. Sandford promised I" repeated No- rah. She leaned her head against the back of her chair and laughed. It was impossible to avoid it she had beard something like this so very recently. "how you men do believe in wounen-..&ometimes!" she said. "In pretty, innocent widows especially! I have discovered the 'open sesame' to your afihetions and trust, and, when I am thirty, I shall act as if Iwere six. Then I may be able to play eavesdropper in a library~window, and yet be credited with the most high-minded and honorable sentiments imaginable." "It is sca ~cely fair to call Mrs. Sandford or BoBEMIA. an eavesdropper," said Max, who liked Miss Desmond's caustic tone with regard to her own sex least of any thing about her. "It was purely accidental her being in the library, and she regretted it exceedingly." "Indeed!" (very dryly). "I confess my credulity is not as great as your own~ perhaps because my appreciation of infantile blue eyes is less lively. It seems to hue that if Mrs. Sandford had regretted the accident which revealed to her a matter in which she had no possible concern, ~he would-have held her tongue." "I think she will hold it as far as Miss Grahame is concerned." "That is to say, you have faith in your influence over her. Well, you can best judge of the extent of that." "F see that you have very little faith in it." "You are mistaken. I only think that she does not love Ciesar less, but Rome more -in other words, her devotion to you is~great, but her devotion to mischief-waking is even greater." "We shall see." ~Yes, we shall see. Meanwhile, have we decided upon any course of action? I must determine what to do." "It is a hard matter to tell,~~ said he, having recourse to the ends of his long mus- tache, and beginning to twist them cry hard indeed. After a short time spent in this way, he looked up with a deprecation which sat oddly on his face. "Don't think me very weak-minded, Miss Desmond, if I beg you to defer any definite action for-say twenty-four hours! Give me this time in which to sound Arthur, and find what he really desires and means to do. I- you can't tell how hard it is for inc to make up my mind to the necessity that Miss Gm- hame must hear the truth." "And yet how eagerly many men in your position would grasp such an opportunity!" said she, looking at him meditatively. He flushed-a very unusual thing with him. "Permit tue to say that your imagina- tion has led you entirely astray with regard to the feeling which I entertain for Miss Gra- hame," he said. "I will not deny thttt she charms ray taste more than any other woman I have ever known, and no doubt, if she had been free, I should very easily have fallen in love with her; but she was nof free-even in OF BOHEMIA. THE CAPTAIN ADMONISHED. 119 fancy-.when I met her first. Therefore, that which might have been love stopped short at sincere friendship." "Indeed l" said Norah again. It flutist be confessed that she arched her eyebrows a little incredulously. The young Bohemian had learned to look with very much the eye of a cynic upon any thing verging on pla~ tonics. "Well," she said, after a short pause, "I am quite willing to give you twdhty -four hours in which to decide what 'sincere friendship' may dictate with regard to tell- ing Leslie the truth. But I should not advise you to be influenced by any thing which your cousin may promise or affirm. Captain Tyn- dale," she said, with sudden energy, "there is no truth in that man! If you do not re- alize and remember this, you will regret it." "I realize it fully," answered he, some- what sternly, "and I do not think there is the least danger of my forgetting it." At this point the conversation ended. The clock struck eight, and, like another Cin- derella, Numb rose. "I must go," she said. "I have my breakfast toilet yet to make, and if I stay longer, some one may come down and find us tifte4.I~te, which would be awkward-for you!" "Pray don't trouble yourself on my ac- count," said he. "I am not particularly afraid of Mrs. Griindy." But, as he spoke, she left the room. At breakfast everybody seemed languid- a very usual result of the exhausting heat of a Southern summer-night. As they came in one after another, the gentlemen in cool linen, the ladies in their lawns, significant signs of lassitude show~id in their faces and movements. Mrs. Middleton did not appear at all, and Leslie looked unusually pale as she sat at the head of the table pouring out cof- fee, which was as clear as brandy and "strong enough to knock a man down," the cook had said. Mrs. Sandford seemed to have fared better than any of the party, though she was most voluble in her complaints of enervation and heat. When Norah came in, she found her describing graphically her attempts to sleep during the r~ight. "What between the mosquitoes and the heat, one was in a regu- lar quandary," she said. "One could not put up one's bars, on account of the mosqultoies, nor keep them down on account of the heat. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 A DAU~IHTER OF BOHEMIA. I confess I spent the night doing first one thing and then another." "And I spent it in smoking," said Carl, dropping a lump of sugar into his coffee-cup and motioning the cream -jug disdainfully away. "What a pity you had not thought ,t~ tILaU It would have enabled you to defy both mosquitoes and heat.". "I will take a supply of paper and to- bacco up-stairs with me to-night, and amuse myself making cigarettes," said she.-" Miss Desmond, will you join me ?-Or, better still, can't we all sleep to-day, and spend the night on the lawn?" "Some of us might be very well disposed to sleep to-day, without any ultimate design of spending the night on the lawn," said Mr. Middleton. Then to Carl: "Will you tell me what possessed you to get up and knock the chairs about over my head at daylight this morning?" "I had really forgotten that your head was below me," answered Carl, "but I cannot remember that I did any particular knock- ing about of chairs. I chanced to be up at daylight simply because I had been up all night." "It was you, then, whom I heard going down-stairs somewhere about five o'clock?" "It may have been I~ I did go down- stairs shortly after that hour." - He looked across the table at Norah as he uttered the last words-it was a look com- pounded strangely of misery and triumph-a look which said as plainly as words could have done, that he was aware of her inter- view with Tyndale; and unfortunately others besides Norah were able to read its jealous significance. These others were Mre. Sand- ford and Leslie-Max might be added, only Max understood the full meaning of the glance, which they did not. A sharp pang seized L~slic's heart. At that moment she* thought only of Norah. What was Norab doing? - what was going On between Carl and hereelf?-what did that glance mean? It was too plainly, too desperately in earnest, not to mean something. In truth, Caji had forgotten himself and shot a veritable thun- der-bolt of war out of those brown, laughter- loving eyes of his. Norah received the thun- der-bolt composedly, but Mrs. Sandford gave a little dramatic start and looked at Max. She remembered the note of the night before, and it suddenly occurred to her, as it had oc- cured to Carl, that it might have meant-an appointment. Nothing more was said on the subject, however, and breakfast passed rather more silently than this sociable meal usually did at Rosland. After breakfast Max pleaded "busi- ness" as an excuse, and ~vent back to Straf- ford, much to Mrs. Sandford's disgust. She had flattered herself that her presence was the magnetic attraction which had drawn him forth at such an early hour, and she had in- tended to take him into the shrubbery again for the benevolent purpose of confiding to him the whole history of the note at night, and the appointment of the morning. But Max was deaf to her hints, and blind to the implor- ing glances of her eyes. Back to Strafford he went, and the pretty mischief-maker was left disconsolate. Carl, meanwhile, had met No- rah in the hall after breakfast, and spoken in the most open and decided manner. "I must see you ~ he said. "Will you come and take a walk with me?" "Is there any necessity why you should see me alone?" she asked. "It is very warm for walking." "We can go to the summer-house," he an- swered. "It will not be much warmer there now than it was at five o'clock~ this morn- ing." In making this remark, he was not aware that Mrs. Middleton was coming down the staircase just behind him, else he might not have spoken either so loudly or so significant- ly. Norah, who was aware of the fact, saw at once that she could not provoke any further allusion to her five-o'clock appointment. She extended her hand, therefore, and, lifting her hat from the table near bysaid, coldly: "We can take a short walk, if you desire it." He had no cause to congratulate himself, however, for no sooner were they safely out of the house than she turned upon him haugh- tily. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "What right have you to demand an interview with me in such a manner as this?" "As much right as Mr. Tyndale had to ap- point one, I suppose," answered he, losing all control of himself. But he saw in a moment that he had made a mistake. There was nothing of tameness in the lightning that flashed upon him from Norah's eyes. "You forget yourself!" she said. "The distinction which makes a difference between Mr. Tyndale aud yourself is the distinction of my choice. I chose to meet him this morn- ing: I do not choose to walk with you now. Therefore, I shall return to the house. She turned majestically; but, as she did so, he turned also, and, keeping close to her side, spoke with imploring haste. - "Pray forgive me!" he said. "I have offended you. I should not have said that. But, if you could know how wretched, how miserable,*1 am!-" It was almost identically the same thing which Tyndale had said before him. At this repetition, Norah's patience-never, as we are aware, of particularly long tether-altogether gave way. "4nd, pray, why should I desire to know?" she asked. "It cannot be particu- larly interesting to learn exactly how wretched and miserable you may chance to fancy your- self. On the contrary, you must excuse me if I say that a spy deserves to be miser- able!" "And you think I am a spy!" he said, a deep, burning flush overspreading his face. "Can I think otherwise?" she asked, pausing for the better convenience of facing him. "Can you deny that you watched, that you even followed, me this morning? What is that but the conduct of a spy?" "It is the conduct of a man who loves you too well to think of any thing but that love!" he answered. But the-manner in which her short upper lip curled was not particularly encouraging to this plea: "A man of honor loves like a man of honor," she said. "He may forget every thing else, but he never forgets his hon. or." Carl's brow knitted, and his hands invol- untarily clinched themselves. It was hard work to keep down the excitement within him, hftrd work to allow no expression to the overmastering force of his jealous and resent- ful passion: "I do not think that I have quite forgotten my honor," he said, with a sort of forced calmness that sat strangely on him, and did not promise exceedingly well for fair weather ahead in the way of temper. "At least I have never made love to one woman while I was engaged to another." "What extraordinary self-control!" said CARL M A SPY. 121 Norab. "But, if a man has never robbed a henroost, is that any reason why he should feel particularly virtuous in stealing a hare?" It was now Carl's turn to draw himself up haughtily: the homeliness of the comparison made it doubly odious. "You misunderstand me entirely if you think that I acted as a spy-upon your move- ments this morning," lie said. "I spoke the honest truth at breakfast when I said that I had been up all night, and I was just thinking of turning in when I saw you leave the house and cross the lawn. I was very much sur-' prised-you can credit that, I am sure-and, suspecting that you had gone to meet Tyn- dale, I-I simply wished to set my suspicions at rest one way or another. So I followed you, and, as soon as I saw that you kad gone to meet him, I came away." "Naturally-after having gained all that you wanted," said she. "And now," said he, ignoring the con- temptuous indifference of her tone, "I want to ask if this is to continue? How has this man so much influence over you, that you- you whom he has denied and insulted-will accord him private interviews, and keep ap- pointments which he has made?" Then, waxing more passionate: "flow does he dare to trifle with you like this? Is it because he knows, or thinks, that you have no defender? 0 Norah-Miss Desmond-only say one word, and I will show him how far you are from being defenseless!" All this, which might have been very ab- surd and melodramatic, was, in truth, so deep. ly, tr~igically earnest, that even Norah felt no inclination to laugh. Young as she was, she had seen much of the mischief which the passions of men sometimes work even in this eminently practical age of ours, and there- fore she felt a little uneasy as she faced the desperate, passionate eyes of the man before her. She certainly did not want another complication of trouble on her hands. Per- haps it was on this account that her voice was softer when she spoke again. "flow often must I tell you that I need no defender? I am able to take care of my- self if a dozen Arthur Tyndales were matched against me, instead of one!" "Are you sure of that?" he asked. He did not say, as he had done once before, that he knew she was. Besides being desperate and passionate, his eyes were just then full page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. of painful doubt. Like Max, he too was puzzled what to think of her. "You know how I love yen," he went on, wistfully, after a moment. "You know how, happy I should be if you would only make this love of some account to you l-if you would only let me make it a shield to hold between you and the world! If you would only give me the right which, if you do not give me, I may take for myself, to call this scoundrel to account! I have tried to be pa- tient, but I can bear it no longcr-Norah, is there no hope for me? ". Norah looked at him intently as he stood before her - eager, impassioned, desperately in earnest. The protection that he offered was much, the love that he offered was more, the wealth and position that 'he could give were most of all in the scale of temptation to this girl who had been an outlaw from her birth. But outlaw and Bohemian though she was, the instinct of the woman was strong within her-that divine instinct which, un- warped by social training, recoils even from love, when love in turn does not rise to wel- come it. "Why should I giv'e you hope?" she asked at last, very slowly. "'I suppose I ought to thank you for loving me-though really I should have much preferred you had lot-but I do not love you." "That may be because you still love Ar- thur Tyndale," said he, bitterly. It would have been an ill-advised speech to make to any woman. To Norah Desmond it was a speech which signed ~nd sealed his metaphorical death -warrant at once. She drew herself up to the full height of her stately figure, the eloquent blood flashing into her fair cheeks, her eyes expanding with their superb full-orbed glow. "A few minutes ago I was foolish enough to imagine that the sentiment of love included that of respect," she said. "You are kind enough to show me my mistake. At least, it' is impossible to imagine that you can enter- tain the faintest semblance of such a feeling for the woman whom you insult by declaring that she may be in love with the man who is engaged to her sister! Understand, once for all, that this subject is ended between us!" she went on, with a sharp edge' to her voice. "If you have clung to a single thregd of hope up to this time, I snap it now! Henceforth ~ou have no concern with me or uiy affairs. It does not matter to you what I choose to do, or whom I choose to meet. When you made yourself a spy upon me, you ended at once and forever any regard which I felt, or might have learned to feel, for you!" Pitiless as youth is prone to be, and too angry to care what dangerous strife of pas- sions she might have awakened, she turned and walked away, leaving those stinging words behind her. This time Carl made no effort to follow, lie only felt, as he watched her cross the sliadow.dappled lawn and enter the house, that he had, with rude, impatient hand, shaken down his last leaf of hope. CHAPTER XXI. "Not from the heart beneath- 'Twas a bubble born of breath, Neither sneer nor vaunt Nor reproach nor taunt- See a word how it sever~th! Oh, power of life and ileteth In the tongue, as the preacher saithU' "LEsLIS," said Mrs. Middleton, gravely, "I really do not like the manner in which things seem to be going on between Carl and Miss Desmond." For a wonder, the two ladies of the house were alone. After Max had taken his de. parture, and Norah and Carl had disappeared, Mrs. Sandford had retired to her chamber- in a fit of misanthropy, probably-and Mrs. Middleton, entering the sitting-room, found Leslie quite alone and quite idle, with a strange, preoccupied look on her face. It was so unusual to see Leslie idle; and' so entirely without precedent, to see her wear that intro. spective expression, that her aunt might have been startled into uneasiness if her thoughts at that time had not been full of Carl's infat- uation and its probable consequences. As it was, the significant attitude, and more sig. nificant expression, only made a mon~ntary impression upon her. "What has happened, auntie?" asked Miss Grahame, looking up. "What is going on between Carl and Norah that you do not like?" "You might see what is going on," an- swered the elder lady, in a vexed tone. "Of course, you may say that flirtation does not generally mean any thing; but when it is flirtation between a man as headstrong as Carl, and a girl who is naturally auxiobs to establish herself in life, like Miss Desmond, it may come to mean a great deal." "I am afraid Carl is very much in love with Norah," said Leslie, in the tone of one who makes a reluctant admission. "But I really do not think she is in the least in love with him." "In love!" repeated Mrs Middleton, im- patiently. "Who talked of her being in love? Do you suppose that a woman like Miss Desihoud is likely to marry foa- love?" "I don't know," answered Leslie, doubt- fully. Somehow the question brought a slight cloud over her face. Was she only just be- "inning to realize how little she knew of this strange sister of hers? "The mere idea is absurd!" said her aunt, with decision. "Women of Miss Des- mond's stamp-.-I put the unfortunate circum- stances of her life entirely out of considera- tion-are the last women in the world to in- troduce a matter of sentiment into the im- portant business of their establishment. If Carl is mad enough to offer l4mself, you may be sure that she will accept him without any hesitation on the score of what she may or may not feel for him!" "Carl has been in love very often before," said Leslie, by way of consolation. "That makes it all the wor~e," promptly rejoined Mrs. Middleton. "He has now passed the age for boyish fancies, and this is likely to be a serious matter. You know his tem- ~erament-.-~you know' how impulsive he is about every thing. 0 Leslie, I am sorry to reproach you, but if you had only listened to the advice of your uncle and myself, none of this trouble would have come to pass." "Yet I did not think of myself-I meant to act for the best," said Leslie. She spoke more to herself'than to her aunt. She seemed to be answering some inward appeal. She had not thought of herself, she had meant to act for the best-for Norah and for Kate- why, then, should this strange, new suspicion, this complicating trouble of more than one kind, have sprung from what she had done? "~Jy darling, who knows that better thai1 I?" said Mrs. Middleton, coming over an~ kissing her. "Don't think that I am blam- ing you-I would not do that for the world- I only mean, if you had listened, Leslie!" "Yes, I know it is all my fault," said Leslie. "You may blame inc as much as MRS. MIDDLET( )N AND LESLIE. 12S you like, and I am very sorry that I have brought anxiety to Uncle George and your- self; but still I have a conviction -it is borne in upon me, as the Quakers say-that Norah will never marry Carl." Mrs. Middleton shook her head. Just then she stood as the personification of worldly wisdom, and worldly wisdom de- clined to credit the idea of a girl, without a shilling, refusing to marry a man who was young, sufficiently good-looking, of fair for- tune, and unexceptionable social position. "There is no question but that she will marry him if he is foolish enough to offer himself," said the worldly-wise woman. "If you could have heard what I did a few min- utes ago! I was coming down-stairs, and they were in the hail. Carl asked Miss Des- mend to go to walk, and she answered that it was too warm. Then he said, in the most significant tone-a tone which plainly meant something which they beth understood-that they could go to the summer-house, where it would not be warmer than at five o'clock this 1~1orning. Miss t~esmond was apparently about to refuse, but, looking up at that mo- ment and seeing me, she took her hat and went. Ko~v, Leslie, I would not say any thing in the world to hurt your feelings, but you can ask yourself whether any but a very fast girl would be likely to act in such a man- ner as that." "In such a manner as what? It does not follow that Norah was at the summer- house at five o'clock, because Carl said that it is no warmer there now than it was then," answered Leslie, though her heart sank. She remembered the glance at the breakfast.table -a glance which did not look much as if Carl had becu the companion of Miss Des- mend's walk, or the person with ~vhem she kept an appointment. "The tone was more significant than the words," said Mrs. Middleton, whose eyes and ears were beth more than ordinarily quick. "My dear, there was something connected with the summer-house at five o'clock, you may be sure. When Miss Desmond saw me she changed color, and you may judge wheth. er she was likely or net to have done that without cause." Leslie, answered nothing. She knew No- rah's supreme self-possession too well to deny this telling point. "Besides," said Mrs. Middleton, "I page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124: A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. THE TWO SISTERS. 125 asked Robert, whom I met a moment later, if he knew whether any one had left the house very early this morning. He said that the glass door at the end of the side-passage was ajar when he first opened the house, and that about seven o'clock Miss Desmond came in from the shrubbery." "But this only shows that she took a walk," said Leslie. Her heart was growing sorer every moment with a soreness of which Mrs. Middleton did not even faintly guess; but she fought loyally for Norah all the same. "Surely, dear Aunt Mildred, there is no harm in that. I don't think the strtitest.laced per- son in the world could call it improper to take a walk in the shrubbery and come back at seven o'clock. As for an appointment with Carl-why should she make an appoint. ment with him when they can see each other at any and every hour of the day?" Mrs. Middleton only shook her head again. rroof she had none; but her conviction was as a mountain. "There was something more than a mere walk in question," she said. "Carl would never have spoken, Miss Desmond would never have looked, as they did, if there had not been! Leslie, what did I tell you the day that she came? Did I not tell you that I distrusted her? This distrust has grown with every hour since that time until now- now I feel confident that she is playing some underhand game which will shock us dread- fully when it comes to light 1" "How can you say such a thing~" said Leslie. She grew suddenly pale. That feel- ing which the French call a ses'rement du ewur seized her in its terrible constriction. For a minute she could not utter another word. The scene of the preceding night rose before her with startling vividness; she seemed to be looking again out of the shadowy dark- ness down the long, lighted room to where Norah sat in all her brilliant beauty at the piano, with Arthur Tyndale's fair, handsome face bending over her. She saw the slip of folded paper pass from one to the other; she heard again Carl's bitter, jealous speech, the memory of which came back to her like a ~fiash of illuminating light~ "Perhaps they lack an opportunity, and desire to make one." Was that what five o'clock in thea summer- house meant? But she had a brave, proud heart, and she refused to be overcome by the dark thoughts and 'darker doubts which rushed upon her. She set her back, as it were, against a wall, crying out to her foes as they came, "I will not yield to you! I will not lower myself, and, it may be, wrong others, by listening to these demons of suspicion and jealousy which I have all my life held in scorn!', And she controlled all outward expression of that which wrung her heart as few women of twice her age could have done. It was strange, but it is nevertheless true, that at this mo- ment of all moments-this moment when, in a lower nature, the iron of suspicion would have entered the soul to poison every gen. erous impulse-a dim, struggling sense of something akin to the grand old noblesse oblige came to Leslie. "This is the hour of trial," an inward voice seemed to. say. "Now prove whether or not you are able to rise above it! Prove whether or not it is of necessity that this pang should debase as well as torture you!" And she rose above it-for the time, at least. There was something almost heroic in the effort which it cost her to turn to her aunt and say quietly, though with slightly. quivering lips: "I think-I hope-that you wrong Norah. I do not believe that she would play an un- derhand game of any kind. As for Carl, I am almost sure that she has no idea of mar. rying him." "I can scarcely believe that," said Mrs. Middleton. "But, if it were possible to find out what she really means to do, I should he in a measure relieved. Leslie, I don't want to ask you to do any thing disagreeable, but she is your sister, after all, and-and if you could find out something definite about her intentions-" "I fear it is impossi-" Leslie was begin- ning, when the sound of a step, the rustle of a dress in the hall, made her start &nd turn. She expected to see Mrs. Sandford, but in- stead it wasNorab, who, having advanced to the door, stood there, framed like a beautiful picture. For a moment that slight, embarrassing pause fell which even the most highly-bred people are sometimes unable to rostraiji when a person of whom they have been talking suddenly appears. Then Mrs. Middleton broke the silence with one of her courteous commonplaces. "I am afraid you found the sun too warm for walking, after all, Miss Desmond." "It is very warm," answered Norah; but she did not say in words, orimply iz~ manner,. that she had returned to the house on ac- count of the heat. "Shall I disturb~you if I come in?" she added, after a moment. "You seemed so much engaged that I hesi- tated:" "There was no need to hesitate; you will not disturb us in the least," answered both ladies. "Indeed, we were just speaking of you," said Mrs. Middleton, taking the bull by the horns with an ease which did her infinite credit. "Perhaps for that very reason I had bet- ter not conic in," said Norah. "You may not have quite exhausted the subject, and, in that case, it would be a pity to interrupt you."j "We were not discussing, but only speak- ing of you," said Leslie, with her sweet, frank smile. "Is there not a difference? But I think you might trust your character in my hands." "I think I might," answered the other, looking at her with a quick glance-a glance compounded strangely of various expressions -as she entered the room nnd crossed the floor. "Did not Carl come in with you?" asked Mrs. Middleton, looking at her in turn with rather keen scrutiny as she sat down and un- tied her hat. "No," was the reply. "I left him in the shrubbery." "You did not go to the summer-house, then "No" (as indifferently as before), "we did not walk so far." "It is too warm fo:- walking," said Leslie, quickly. This identical remark had been made, on an average, at least fifty times a day during the last week; but Miss Grahame was too anxious. to change the conversation to make any effort for novelty at that moment. "It is very warm!" said Mrs. Middleton, with an equal degree of original brilliance. Then she opened her fan, and, rising, walked away. "I had almost forgotten that I must see Betsy," she said.-Betsy was the house- keeper, and quite a character in he~ line. So it was that the two sisters found them- selves alone. Leslie understood perfectly that her aunt had gone, because she was anxious to give her a fair opportunity to sound the depths of Miss Desmond's intentions with re- gard to Carl; but Leslie, who would not have felt a particular aptitude for such a task at any time, was peculiarly conscious just now of her utter inability to cope with Norah's reticence and self- possession. She might have been a little surprised if she had known that Norah was at that moment endeavoring to determine how she could best sound the depths of her character and intentions. A minute of silence passed, which Leslie was the first to break-half timidly: "We have seen~ so little of each other since you have been here, Norah! I wonder if you have-felt it as well as I? It has really pressed upon me with a constant weight of regret. I have been sorry that there should have been so many people to come between us, so many social engagements to separate us. We are not half so well acquainted as I should like for us to be." "Perhaps we are sufficiently well acquaint- ed," said Norah, in her careless way. "Per- haps, if you knew me better, you might not like me at all. I-think that you do like me a little now," she added, witl~ a slight, wistful cadence in her tone. "I like you very much, indeed," said Les- lie, frankly; "and I am sure I should soon grow to love you dearly. How can you think that, under any circumstances, I could possi- bly not like you at all?" "Because we have been reared so differ- ently," was the response. "Because we must, of necessity, possess so little in common. We belong to different worlds; we bear the stamp of different trainings-bear it not only outwardly but inwardly-and hence it maybe better that we should see each other (at least, that you should see me) in the superficial manner which you regret." "I do not believe it," said Leslie. Despite the suspicious tugging at her heart, it was impossible for her to believe it, as she looked at the face before her. "You wrong yourself when you talk so! You do not know what some-some people might imply! They might think that there was a radical defect in your character or your training." "They would not be far wrong," said the other, bitterly. "A radical defect, did you say? There might be a hundred, for all the effort to the contrary any one ever made-ex- cept Kate-Kate, who has been an augel ever since she was born! That is a queer thing page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 A DAUGHTER to say of the daughter of a Bohemian adven- turer, is it Dot? But, then, she comes of Irish blood. And every man and woman and child in Ireland has the blood of saints and martyrs in their veins. You would never guess it from some of us-from papa or from me, for example-.-but it comes out in Kate." "I should like to know Kate," said Les. lie, smiling a little. "But, still, I am glad to know you-very glad! And we are sisters, Norah," she added. "Don't forget that! I feel half envious as I see your eyes light up when you talk of Kate. She has had you, and you have had her-.but I have had no- body!" "You may envy me the possession of Kate as much as you please, and with good cause," said Norah, "but you need not envy Kate the possession of me. I have given her any amount of trouble all my life, or, rather, all her life, for I am the oldest." "If you have gone through the world turning men's heads and breaking men's hearts as you have do~ie in the short time you have been here, I scarcely wonder," said Leslie. She saw her opportunity, and took advantage of it after a fashion; but she could not help feeling mean as she did so. It seemed like making an attempt to surprise Norah's confidence. She might have spared her .com. functions if she had only known how little Norah's confidence was lj~ely to be sur- prised. "Have I turned anybody's head or broken anybody's heart since I have been here?" asked that young lady. "I really think you must be mistaken. One cannot work de- struction-at least, not tha~ kind of destruc- tion-without being aware of it." "Oh! I think one can," said Leslie. "At least, I mean one may learn that one has worked it too late." (" She is thinking of Captain Tyndale!" commented her hearer mentally.) "But I am sure you will not pre- tend to deny that Carl is in love with you!" "Why should I deny it?" asked Norah. "It is no fault of mine, even if it is a dis- credit to him. But I thought you were talk- ing of something which had occurred since I came here." "And had 1l~is occurred before you came here, then?~' cried Leslie, astonished, but somewhat relieved. -" It has not been my fault, after all!" she thought. "Perhaps I ought to refer you to your cousin for an answer to that question," an- swered Norah. "He had never done me the honor to ask me to marry him, before we came here; but, of course, any woman, with a grain of common-sense, knows when a man is in love with her." "And now that he has asked you-for, of course, he has-" said Leslie, eagerly, "do you mean to marry him? 0 Norah, if this is so-,, "But it is not so!" interposed Norah, sharply. "What have you seen-in me-to make you fancy such a thing?" "I have seen nothing whatever to make me fancy that you are in love with Carl," said Leslie, thinking that she would round boldly, since she was sounding at all. "But some women-that is, all women-'do not wait for love in making up their minds to marry." "That is very true, indeed; and it would ill become any one like me to talk high. minded sentiment on such a subject, would it not? But still I may be permitted to say that, if there are other things besides love to be taken into consideration, there are also other things besides carriages and horses-- excellent as they are!" "Nobody can deny that," said Leslie; but she looked a little puzzled-what was coming next? Sympathy is the first of these things," said Norah. "I don't mean romantic sym- pathy-union of heart and soul, and all that absurdity-..-but the rational sympathy of tastes, habits, breeding, and inclinations. This is essential. I would rather share a garret and a crust of bread with a thorough- ly sympathetic person, than li~o in a palace with one whose ideas, tastes, and opinions jarred upon, wearied, and yet controlled me. The next great essential is freedom. I have belonged from my birth to the Bedoulas of civilization. A tread-mill of commonplace do- mestic or social life would prove so utterly unendurable to me that no paraphernalia of wealth-no carriages, diamonds, millinery, or furniture-could reconcile me to it. I should like money very much-as much, I suppose, as anybody else in the world- but money would be to me what it was to Robinson Cru- soe on his~desert island if I could not go into the world--my world-to spend it. And, in speaking of my world, you must not think that I mean Bohemia-I would gladly shake off that tomorrow, if I could-but I mean the OF BOHEMIA. great world, the world in which people live, instead of merely vegetating! So, you see" -smiling faintly and a little scornfully- "that your uncle and aunt may quiet their anxiety. Though your cousin offers me sev- eral very good gifts - himself among the number-they are gifts in a form which would be worse than useless tp me. When the first restlessness of youth is over, he will settle down into the groove in which his fathers and grandfathers have walked before him. Do you think that I could share such a life? Not with the wild blood that is in my veins- not with the wild love of change and excite- ment in my heart." "But do change and excitement make happiness?" asked Leslie. "Does any thing make happiness?" was the cynical rejoinder. "Of happiness as a positive state, I know nothing. I am only able to make my comparison by the greater or lesser degree of' misery and discomfort." "0 Norali!" "You see, I told you that perhaps it is as well that our acquaintance heretofore has been superficial," said Norah. "If we knew each other well, I should only shock you. One who has been tossed about the world as I have been is not likely to look at things as you do, and I have always observed that hnp- py people regard with suspicion and distrust the unfortunate class for whom life has not been painted in rose-color. They look upon it as a striking instance of the depravity of humau taste that anybody should choose to be miserable in such an agreeable world." "Where did you learn such ideas?" asked Leslie, in a tone of absolute pain. "Would you believe rue if I were to say that you are entirely wrong?" "I am not sure how far I might perjure myself if you looked at me with such wistful eyes as those," answered Norah, smiling. "So perhaps I had better go" (she rose as she spoke). "I was awake very early this morning, and I feel like anticipating my siesta by several hours." "Awake very early this morning!'~ Those words brought back the doubts which, for a moment, Leslie had forgotten. Her change of countenance was so great and so entirely beyond her control, that Norah saw it and stopped short. "She suspects or knows part. of the truth !" she thought; "shall I tell her the rest?" The words necessary for doing OF BOHEMIAN. A LOST OPPORTUNITY. 127 127 so rushed to her lips. In another second they would have found utterance, if the recollec- tion of her promise to Max Tyndale had not risen up and checked them. "Give me twen- ty-four hours!" he had said, and she had promised to give them to him. To break that promise was impossible, or seemed im- possible to her. Still she could test Leslie- she eould see if she were ready to meet the truth. That would be something gained. "We spoke a little while ago of marriage," she said, slowly, "and-o~ love. Do you agree with me in thinking that if one had put one's whole freight of happi~ess-you believe in happiness, you know-upon the truth or falsehood of a single person, and that person was false instead of true, it would be better to know it-better to face any bitterness or desolation---than to live a life, however sweet, that was built nipon a lie?" Tli~ earnestness of her voice, the steady glow of her eyes, said evcn more than her words. A great fear suddenly seemed to come over Leslie. She felt as if she were standing on the brink of something terrible, of something that would shatter her whole fabric of existence, of something which she could not bear to know. For the first time in her life, she shrank like a coward. "I I cannot tell," she said. "Why should you say such thinrsS No one whom I know could possibly deceive me. But even if it were so "-with a pale, quivering ghost of a smile-" you know that where ignorance is bliss it is always folly to be wise." "I know it!" said Noruh. "Pardon me -it is the last thing in the world which I know or* desire to learn. Give me the truth always, at all times, and under all circum- stances, even if it crushes my heart and ruins my life! It is entirely a matter of taste, however. Let those live on lies who like them. I have no disposition to force my choice upon any one." She turned away as she spoke; but Les- lie, moving forward quickly, laid hcr hand on her arm. "Stop!" she said shortly, almost sternly. "You must tell me what you mean. I scarcely knew what I said, a minute ago I have no more desire. to live on lies than you can have. If-if you kmiow any thing which I ought to hear, for Heaven's sate tell me what it is!" page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] But Norab had already said more than she intended, and now-bound in the fetters of her promise to Max-she found herself in- volved, greatlyto her disgust, in the absolute necessity for an evasion. "I merely put a case to you," she said. "Every one does not think as I do. I was anxious to know how you felt. I am glad that you are brave enough to be able to face the truth if it should ever be necessary for you to do so. None of us can tell how soon such a need may arise. But you must forgive me if I have startled you. I did not mean to do that.", "Did you not ~"said Leslie, and the faint, quivering smile passed over her face again. "Yet you spoke very much as if you meant to speak with a purpose. Of course it rests with yourself; however, to give an explana- tion or not." But, as she uttered these words, her eyes were less proud than her lips. They asked this explanation so plainly, so imploringly, that Norah's conscience smote her as she turned away. She felt that it would have been bard to tell the truth; yet it was still harder to leave it untold. She could not force her- self to say, "I have nothing to explain;" so, murmuring some half - incoherent words of regret, she passed from the room, conscious that she left behind an aching heart and a lost opportunity. This consciousness was not particularly conducive to amiability, as she mounted the stairs to her own room. She felt that every thing was going wrong in the most exasper- ating manner. Arthur, Leslie, Max, Carl- and Mrs. Sandford in the background-were so many different sources of annoyance and anxiety. "After all, had I not better pack my trunk and take the train to-night alone9" she thought. "This state of affairs cannot continue long-there is too much electricity in the atmosphere. Perhaps it would be well to escape the explosion.~~ Full of these thoughts she passed quickly, and, as it chanced, almost noiselessly, across the matting-covered floor of the upper hall to her own chamber. As she opened the door, she paused on the threshold. Had she mis- taken the room? A quick glance, at the familiar furniture, and her own familiar be- longings, assured her that she had not, yet a graceful figure in a Nansook robe de chambre was standing at the toilet-table, apparently engaged in critically overlooking its miscel- laneous articles. When Mrs. Sandford retired to her own room after breakfast, she felt as much out of sorts as a very pretty widow, with a satis. factory-account at her banker's and a charm- ing wardrobe in her trunk, could possibly feel. Gratifying to .hcr eyes had been the sight of Captain Tyndale at the breakfast- table, and still more gratifying to her feelings the prospect of a demi-flirtation under the convenient guise of confidential disclosures touching the unquestionable guilt of Arthur and Norah. To have a summary end put to~ this prospect, was more than she could bear with equanimity. Outraged by Max's de- parture, she found it necessary to blame some one besides himself. "That creature has been talking to him!" she thought-for it is as- tonishing how vexation will sharpen even dull wits-" she has been making out her case Oh, if I only could speak to him ~or a moment -if I could only tell him about the note last ~night!" Following hard upon this thought came another. "If I only knew what was in that note! I am sure that it was an appointment! I am sure she went out this morning to keep ~lt-~-but if I only knew! He could not refuse to believe such clear proof as that; and it really seems an incumbent duty to expose her duplicity. To think of poor, dear Leslie! And then, there is Max himself; if I don't show him beyond doubt what game she is playing, he may be in her train next. Men are such fools-and I think two strings to her bow are quite enough!" Moved by such high-minded reflections as these, the next step was to consider~ how to obtain a knowledge of what was in the note. Clearly there was but one way of doing this -from the note itself. "If I could only see it!" mused she. "If there was only any way of seeing it!" Then, impatiently, "If I could only think of any way of seeing it!" When any one has gone as far as this, it is not dif- ficult to go farther, it is not difficult to re- solve, "I will find some way of seeing it!" To this point Mrs Sandford soon came. She was not a person who was accustomed to think much of right or wrong, of honorable or dishonorable deeds. What she wished to do was generally her criterion for what she did do. She had never before wshed to in- terfere with any one's private correspondence, 128 128 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. MRS. SANDFORD'S INQUISITIVENESS. 129 129 but, now that the emergency had arisen, she could see no just cause or reason why she should not find, read, and perhaps appro- priate, Mr. Tyndale's note, if Miss Desmond had been obliging enough to leave it within her reach. Of course, in order to institute such a search, it was necessary to enter Miss Des- mend's chamber, but of that Mrs. Sandford thought lightly. It was so easily done that really, as she said to herself, it seemed no more than crossing her own floor. She had only to step through one of her windows to the balcony upon which it opened, and to walk a few steps to find herself at the cor- respo.nding window of Norah's room. If they had been established in their present quarters with a view to possible contingencies of this kind, avery thing could not have been better arranged. To plan a campaign and to exe- cute it, the greatest generals have sometimes found to be very different things; but, in the present instance, there was no more difficulty in the execution than in the plan. This fair general knew that Norah had left the house with Carl; she fancied her safe for at least an hour's flirtation in the shrubbery; hence, she felt no hesitation in leaving her own room, in walking down the balcony, in open- ing the half- closed Venetian blinds of the adjoining chamber, and in boldly stepping within. Every thing was cool and fresh and in per- fect order The housemaid had finished her work and gone. None of the loose odds and ends, the thrown-off dresses and discarded ribbons, of a later hour, were lying about. The wardrobe had engulfed the first, the toi- let-table, drawers, and boxes, had, no doubt, received the last. Mrs. Sandford's glance traveled critically round the room, as she paused for a moment by the window. "It is handsomer than mine!" she thought, resent- fully. "What do they mean by giving it to her!" It made little difference in her resent- ment that, as a matter of fact, any one not accustomed to appraising furniture might have been puzzled to decide which was the most luxurious of the two apartments; those infantine blue eyes knew to a shilling the probable cost of every article on which they rested, and they wandered now from the carved bedstead in an alcove, with its tent- like canopy and draperies of white netting, over the deep chairs and couches, the swing. 9 ing mirrors, the china, and marble, and lace, and upholstery, which made a very pretty "interior." On none of these things did they rest, however. That distinction was reserved for a small table standing. near an end win- dow, on which a large and more substantial writing-desk than ladies generally use was placed. Now, confident as she was that there was no danger of being surprised, Mrs. Sandford had yet no disposition ~to waste time; and, crossing the floor, she at once began examin- ing this desk. To her infinite disappoint. ment and disgust, it was locked. She had by this time so fully entered into the spirit of what she was doing that, on making this vexatious discovery, she at once seized a pen. knife which lay open on the table, and, re- gardless of consequences, tried to force the lock. If it had been the toy which is usually placed on ladies' desks, she could easily have succeeded, but, for a wonder, it-was firm and strongand guarded its trust faithfully. After a minute she relinquished the attempt as hopeless, and threw the knife impatiently down. "Yet this proves that she has some- thing to conceal !" she said, aloud, almost triumphantly. "If I could only open it-if I only could!" Since the gratification of this moderate desire was impossible, save by recourse to more desperate measures than any she felt inclined to adopt, her next step was to look about the room and see if she could find any thing of a criminating nature which Nornh might have neglected to secure under lock and key. Here, however, she found herself baffled at all points. In the course of her life, Miss Desmond had evidently learned that the best of all policies is the policy of caution. With an extended knowledge of young ladies' habits, and of the nooks and corners into which they arc most likely to cram letters or notes, Mrs. Sandford found herself entirely at fault. A moderate num- ber of laces, ribbons, and frills, rewarded her search; but absolutely nothing of more im- portance. The only scrap of any thing bear- ing writing which she found was an envelope that Norah had evidently addressed to her sister, and then thrown aside because a blot of ink bad fallen upon it. This she at once put into her pocket. "It may serve to com- pare with some of her writing," she thought, from which it will be perceived that Mrs. page: 130 (Illustration) [View Page 130 (Illustration) ] 130 A DAUGHTER OF BOH1~ML~~. Sandford was in training for a very excellent detective, indeed. This envelope she found in a side-drawer of the toilet-table. There was a correspond- ing drawer on the other side, which she had not yet examined. Encouraged by her first measure of success-success which a less san- guine nature might have esteemed rery scant -she turned to explore this receptacle. Blank disappointment awaited her-blank disappointment, and a dozen or two long- legged hair-pins. It was while she was sur- veying these with irritation that the doot opened, and Norah stood on the t For at least a minute Mrs. Sa~dford re- mained in ignorance of her presence. She glanced over the whole toilet-table critically, opened the powder-box, sniffed at a bottle of Farina cologne, tried the effect of a mosaic ear-ring against her face, and finally, shrug- ging her shoulders with an air of disgust, turned away, to face the owner of the castle whieh she had so coolly invaded. ~he started violently, blushed crimson, and for a moment was too much disconcerted to find any words with which to acCount for her presence. In truth, Norah's face ~tnd manner were not particularly reassuring. She made no attempt to conceal her indig- nant surprise and anger as, after a second, she advanced into the room, closing the door behind her. - "Ganido any thing for you?" she asked. "Were you looking for any thing which I can furnish?" If Mrs. Sandford had beqn in the palace of truth she would certainly have replied that she soas looking for something which Miss Desmond could furnish; but, as it was, she recovered the use of her tongue to answer with ready, though mther lame apology: "I beg a thousand pardons! I had no idea-I mean I thought you would not mind if I eame in to try the effect of your mirror. Mine is one of the. horrid broadening kind, and it makes such a fright of me that I never know how I look, or how my dresses sit. My maid complains of it all the time, so I thought I would just step over and try yours. I was anre you would not object 1" The last sentence was uttered. with an pealing look, which would have gone straight to the heart of any man in the world. Per- haps it was because Norah was not a man that her heart rather hardened than softened under its influence. She hal an instinct of the business which had brought this beguil- ing creature into her chamber, and she did not feel inclined, to deal very gently with her. "At the risk of seeming rude, I must say that I do object to my room being entered in my absence," she answered, even more cold. ly than she had spoken before. "It strikes me as a little singular, also, that you should never have thought of trying the cffe~t of my mirror until you knew that I was out of the house." "I am sorry that I should have thought of trying it at all!" said Mrs. Sandford, crim- soning again, partly from mortification, part- ly from anger. "I certainly did not expect such a reception as this I But of course one must make allowances," she added, bitterly. "Courtesy is not cultivated in Bohemia, I suppose." "We certainly think it of less importance than honesty," answered Norah, in her clear voice. "You may spare your taunts, Mr~. Sandford! You could not sting me if you were to try all day; and how little you could increase my knowledge of yourself, I may per- haps let you know in the simple fact that I am not at all surprised to find you here in my absence. We are both guests in this house, and, down-stairs, we must of necessity meet on neutral ground; but, in my own room, you are certainly well aware of the rea- sons why I feel no inclination to receive you!" "I am perfectly well aware of a reason why Imight decline to come here," said Mrs. Sandford, thinking that the sooner she car- ried the war into Africa the better. "You cannot help knowing, Miss Desmond, that, if I chose to open my lips and betray your- your conduct to Leslie, your hours as a guest in this house would be numbered." "If I might venture to ask you to do me a favor," said Norab, "it would be to open your lips and betray my conduct to Leslie as soon as possible. But, in truth, you dare not do this; you are not certain enough of the ground on which you stand; you did not learn enough in the library window at Straf- ford. Perhaps it is to a natural desire to in- crease your knowledge that I owe the pleas- ure of finding you here to-day?" 11cr piercing eyes seconded this point- blank interrogation so well that, with a dis- comfited sense of getting the worst of this / -54 0I ~0 C I- 130 page: -131[View Page -131] NORIAH AND THE WIDOW- 13 U 9 131 war of words, Mrs. Sandford had no alterna- firming that it had not been more than an tive but to turn away. ,hour-at which information Max frowned im- " I have already told you why I came," patiently. If he had only been a little ear- she said. "I must repeat, however, tbat I lier, be thought--and yet he was conscious am exceedingly sorry for having yielded to that he was not in fit condition to see Arthur. my impulse. I am so foolish-I always do Though of a cool temperament, and accus- yield to my iinpulses, and then I often regret tomed more than most men to holding him. it. In spite of your great rudeness, I have self well in hand, he was at that time suffer. no intention of betraying to Leslie any thing ing such a revulsion of feeling against his which I learned-by pure accident--in the Ii- cousin, that, if he had found him at once, he brary of that window at Strafford. I may be might not have been able to restrain its ex- weak-I have no doubt that ILam-but I really pression within any thing like reasonable cannot think of inflicting such a blow upon bounds. Not that he was in any sense car. her. How you can reconcile your duplicity ried away by passion, but a stern sense of with your conscience, Miss Desmnond--" wrathful indignation, largely seasoned with " My duplicity is my own affair," inter, contempt, possessed him, and seemed to do- rupted Norah, " and I fear that my conscience mand immediate and strong utterance. is too callous for even your eloquence to This utterance it would certainly have make any impression upon it. Will you ex- found, with doubtful results, ~if Arthur had musc me if I say that I came up-stairs to rest, been within reach. It has been already said and that solitude is always my great essential .tha~t perhaps it was a good thing he was not. for rest'?" The process of relief called " speaking one's "I can excuse any thing that you choose mind," rarely does much good to any one con- to say on the score of your deficiencies of cerned, save to the speaker ; and, in this in- breeding," answered Mrs. Sandford. " The stance, it might have done a great deal of difficult thing to do will be to excuse myself harm. Without any taint of Phariseeism, for having incurred such treatment. I shall Max's sentiments were certainly stronger than not forget it, Miss Desmond-you may be most men of the world would have sanctioned, sure of that !" -since it is the fashion of the world to deal " If your memory is equal to your inven- leniently even with what it disapproves. tion, I can readily credit that," said Norhh, There are men and to spare of conventional coolly. integrity who would have regarded lightly Then, walking to the door, she held it enough such an offense as that of Tyndale's, open, while the other swept angrily out. but Max was not one of them. Perhaps his profession might account for a certain rigid. ity in his manner of viewing things, but un- CHAPER XI.I.doubtedly there seemed to him no excuse for CHAPER XII.Arthur's conduct. A record of such mingled " Look in my face ; my name is Might-have-been ; weakness, perfidy, deception, and cowardice, I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell ; had, in his eyes, nothing to redeem or palli- Unto thine ear I hold the Dead-Sea shell, -ei "fhhaonybntreoayod Cast up thy life's foam-fretted feet between ; ati."Ifhhdonybetreoayoy Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen or any thing !" he muttered, more than once, Which had Life's form and Love's, but by my as he paced the terrace, in sentinel-fashion, spell to and fro. But that was the darkest point Ts now a shaken shadow intolerable, Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen.,, of all ; he had been true to nobody-to noth- ing ! Regarding the matter, as he had of late IT was probably a good thing-it was cer- been in the habit of regarding it, from a dou- tainly not a thing to be regretted-that, when ble point of view, Max felt unable to decide !Iax reached Strafford, he found Arthur ab- whether Norah or Leslie had been most lent. The latter had returned to the house, wronged. " The Bohemian girl has been his reakfasted, ordered his horse, and ridden off, match, however" he thought, with a certain vithout telling any one where he was going grim triumph-and then lie melted into abso- r when he would be back, the servants re- lute tenderness over the recollection of Lea- borted. Questioned respecting the time which lie's wasted love and abused faith. iad elapsed since he left, they agreed in af- The latter consideration brought his mind page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. back to Norah's recommendation of the morn- ing-her assertion that if Arthur were once removed from Leslie's life, he (Max) might, by the exercise of common discretion and judgment, step into the vacated place. Still pacing back and forth, watching the shadows shorten toward noon, and waiting for Arthur's return, he let his reflections turn from the more vexatious view of the subject to dwell on that audacious proposal. "Was she in jest or in earnest ?" he thought-puzzled gs many a straightforward man has been puzzled before him by a woman's chameleon moods. "Did she take me to be a scoundrel or a lover on the melodramatic model, ready to profit on anoth- er man's dishonor? or was she only amusing herself by an attempt to play upon my credul- ity?" This question being rather difficult to answer by one not yersed in the abstruse study of feminine ethics, our chasseur shook his head over it. But, like moths around a candle, his thoughts still fluttered about the memory of Norah's eyes and smile. Not at all a woman in his style-not in the least a woman whom he admired--still, a woman with a charm, he could not but confess. A creature of infinite variety, energy, and resource, to whom he could not deny the grace of fascination, how- ever much he might prefer something gentler and more feminine. Then his thoughts re- ceived a new impetus of indignation in the recollection of how Arthur had distorted every feature of her character in his descrip- tion of it-how he had drawn its noble out- lines rudely, and dashed its fine tints with vulgar coloring. What could be said of a man who thus willfully added slander to de- ception? This was the text of Max's medi- tations, when suddenly a graceful figure which he knew well, but was not at that moment ex- pecting to see, mounted the terrace-steps and advanced toward him. The encounter was a surprise on both sides. Although Arthur had emerged from the large gate which shut in the stable do- main, and followed a path which led to the foot of the terrace, he had not noticed Max, while Max, on his part, had seen nothing of him. Both men, therefore, started, and in- voluntarily drew back a little. "By Jove !-~-are you here?" said Arthur, in no very gracious tone. " So you are back at last!" said Max, rather curt in turn. "Is it remarkable that I should be back?" asked the former, with a touch of defiance in his manner-a manner which a great many people, who ought to know better, assume when they desire to place themselves on the defensive. "Not at all remarkable," was the reply. "I was only surprised to see you so unex- pectedly." "I came up from the stable-I have been over to Wexforil," explained the other, care- lessly. Theii he gave a somewhat forced laugh. "I should rather express surprise at seeing ~iou I" he said. "I supposed you were over at Rosland-you must have gone out very early this morning, for you were not here at breakfast." "I was very little behind yourself in go. ing out," answered Max, thinking, perhaps, that he might save time by plunging into his subject at once. "The only difference was, that you came back to breakfast, and I did not." "Behind me!" Arthur ccho~d. Accord. ing to his usual fashion, he changed color vividly-this time more from anger than con- fusion. "I was not aware," he said, haughti- ly, "that my goings - out or comings - in con- cerned you in the least." "You are quite right," returned Max, de- liberately. "They do not concern me in the least-except in so far as they concern a mat- ter in wliieh you have more than once CXCiI- citly requested my interference." "If I was fool enough to request your in- terference at one time," said Arthur, angrily, "understand that I quite as explicitly request your non-interference now! Whatever I may choose to do, or leave undone, is none of your affair." "You are mistaken about that," said Max. lIe did not lose control over himself, though the manner of the other did not incline him to adopt any great degree of conciliation. "What you are proposing to do or to leave undone may be more my affair than you im- agine.~~ "Indeed!" said Arthur, with an angry sneer, which was not a striking success as a sneer. In truth, angry men should never at- tempt to employ this potent weapon of of- fense, for, in order to be effective, a sneer should always be passionless. perhaps Ar- thur felt this, or perhaps there was something in the keen dark eyes regarding him which made him change his tone. "At all events, he 132 AN ANGRY INTERVIEW. 133 did change it. Don't be a fool, Max!" he said, impatiently. "You know, as well as I do, that this is nonsense-more than non- sense, indeed, if I chose to resent it! I was absurd enough to give you some excuse for your interference, and so I shall let it pass. But I insist upon your dropping the subject at once and finally!" "Suppose I decliuc to do so?" "Then I shall decline to listen to you. I have had enough - more than enough~- of this!" "I scarcely think you will decline to lis- ten to me when you hear that I come from Miss Desmond." "And, pray, why should I not decline to listen to you even then? What is Norah Des. mond to me that I should give any more at- tention to her messenger than to herself?" '1What was she this morning when you asked her to elope with you?" "So!" said Arthur, drawing in his breath with a sharp, quick sound. "You have heard that, have you?" Then, with a short, harsh laugh: "You were fool enough to believe it, were you? How completely she must have drawn you into her net! Bat I should have thought even you knew Norah Desmond bet- ter than that!" "Do you deny it?" demanded Max. There was a tense chord in his voice which the other scarcely understood. Something like a slight quiver passed over him. As yet he held his indignant passion well in leash; but, if the denial came- It did not come. Even Arthur Tyndale shrank from such downright perjury. Not so much because it was a perjury, as because he had a wholesome fear of Norah. It was one thing to insinuate that she had spoken false- ly, another thing openly to declare it. His courage, which was quite equal to the first achievement, failed a little at the last. He turned in wrathful impatience upon his cousin. "I shall say nothing about it, one way or auo'ther!" he cried. "Again, I repeat that it is no affair of yours. Why the devil do you insist upon interfering like this?" "Because I mean to know definitely what you intend to do !"the other answered, stern- ly. "It is too late to take this tone with me. You invited my interference in the first in- stance; there are others who have as good a right as yourself to do so, who have invited it, in the second." 133 "I suppose you mean Norah Desmond?" said Arthur, with the bitter inI~ction of con- tempt which invariably accompanied his ut- terance of her name. "But, by Heaven! there is no interference which I will not tolerate sooner than kers!" "I see that you have lost all sense of reason for the present," said Max, curtly. "It will be useless to attempt to talk to you unless you can listen in a different spirit from any yen have displayed as yet. I shall walk to the end of the terrace," he added. "If you are gone when I come back, or, if you still refuse to listen to me, then Ishall go, and your last chance of obtaining any con- sideration at Miss Desmond's hands will be over." As l~e uttered these words, he turned away without~ giving the other time to speak, and walked slowly around the terrace. When he gained the end, he paused and stood still for a few minutes. rrobably he felt that he, as well as Arthur, needed this little breathing- space. It was the thought of Leslie which had made him exercise so much self-control, and now he was conscious of a necessity to gird himself up, as it were, with that thought afresh - with the memory of her tenderness, her sweetness, her grace, her devoted love for the man behind him, her (he thought) entire unsuspiciousness. If it seemed hard that she should never know of what poor clay her idol was made, that, as Norah had said, she should "go through life holding a lie for truth,' still Max was enough a man of the world to know that she was not singular, either among men or women, in that fate. If it is true in countless instances, that- "We loved ourlost loves forth love wegave them, And not for any thing they gave our love," it is still more true that there could be no sadder revelation on this sad earth of ours than the revelation of the wandering of those hearts which we have fancied truest, tender- est, most our own. This pang Max was de- termined should be spared Leslie. "It is not as if she could make another life for her- self! "he muttered. "It is not as if she had the facile power of forgetting of an ordinary woman; or her sister's pride and courage. It would be a shock which might darken her whole life. Arthur's impressions are so evanescent that, when Miss Desmond goes away, he will most likely return to his alle. page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] I 134 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. glance, and be all that he was before. Not worthy of l~er-never, under any circum- stanOes worthy of her-but one of the neces- sary compromiseS of which life is full!" * Braced by this cheerful view of things, Captain Tyndale turned at last to retrace his steps. The terrace-walk ctwved so that he could not see the spot where he had left Ar- thur, and his mind was naturally full of un- cei-tainty concerning that unmanageable per- eon. Would he still be there? Had he defi- nitely taken leave of his senses, or was it only a temporary aberration which might be over, in a measure, at least, by this time? In aflOth~r second he would turn the corner of the house, and the question would be an- swered. As he turned it, a quick, blank feel- ing of disappointment settled over him in- etantly. ~" He has gone," he thought. The next moment showed him that he was mis- taken. Arthur was pacing up and down the path which he had himself followed an hour before. Seeing his approach, the young man paused abruptly. His handsome face was paler and firmer than Max had ever seen it before; his violet eyes had a steady, angry lustre in them. Plainly, If cooler thoughts had come to him, milder ones had not. "Well," he said, before the other could speak, "you see I have waited for you. But it has not been to listen to any thing which you may have to say either in your own char- acter or in that of envoy. It has only been that I may request an explanation of your extraordinary conduct-that I may learn how it' is that you think yourself at liberty to treat me in such a manner as this?" "I did not come here to discuss my own conduct," answered Max. "Think what you like of it! Just now I am occupied with yours. Just now I must repeat the question which I have already asked: What do you mean to do with regard to your engagement?" "' And I repeat what Ihave already asked: How does any thing connected with it con- cern you 1'" "Granting that it does not concern me at all, you certainly cannot deny that it con- cerns Miss Desmoud. You msjr consider me as her envoy, if you prefer to look on me in that light." "Her dupe and tool, more likely!" was the bitter response. "But 'uhy should .she make such an inquiry?" "Simply because it is necessary with ref- erence to her own conduct," answered Max, who was beginning to lose patience. "Are you aware that you may do yourself infinite harm by this obstinacy?" he asked. "Un- less you desire to break your engagement, Miss Desmond, on her part, is willing to leave the truth untold, if you will pledge yourself to keep faith with her sister." "Miss Desmond is infinitely generous!" "She is certainly more generous than many women would be!" said Max, with growing sternness. "If you reject her offer, however," he added, turning away, "my in- terference is at an end. I have the honor to bid you good-morning!" "Stop!" said Arthur, quickly. "Don't go like this! Are you in earnest ?-does No- nih offer to bind herself to-to tell her sister nothing?" "I think I may safely say that she offers even that, in case ymne bind yourself in turn to keep faith with Miss Grahame, and to suf- fer her to suspect nothing." "By Jove!" said Arthur. For a minute he looked quite astounded. It seemed No. rah's special province to go through life as- tonishing people. "I did not expect this," he said, slowly. "I thought it was all over this morning. She left me like a tigress, and I was sure she had told Leslie every thing before the present time. I was so confident of it that I have made my arrangements to leave!" he added, shrugging his shoulders. "It would be too hot for me here after things came out. My ticket is in my pocket. I meant to go up to Alton to-night, and-and anywhere else that I felt inclined afterward. It wouWl have been rather a relief' to-be rid of the whole infernal business!" he said, with a tone of genuine regret in his voice. "But, if it is to go on, of course this arrange- ment will be best. Only you must under- stand one thing: I shall not trust Norah Desmond's pledge or promise, either given or sent. I must have proof that she does 'not mean to play me false at last." "What kind'of proof?" "My letters-the letters of which I have spoken before. Let her return those, and I will know she is in earnest." "I do not think it likely that she will ac- cede to such a request," said Max. "But I will lay it before her. One thing, however, I know that I am safe in demanding on her part ARTHUR'S FINAL DECISION. -the return of her letters, if you still have them." "Her letters!" repeated Arthur. "Good heavens! do you take me for a woman or a fool, that I should be treasuring up such rel- ies? I have not, to my knowledge, a shred of one of them, else she should certainly have it. God knows I want to keep no recollection of' her, or the part she has played in my life!" he added, with sudden, bitter passion. And, little as Max was inclined to trust him, he saw that he was speaking truth, and he kaew, moreover, that it is the rarest thing in the world when a man does keep such tokens of the past. It is women, preiimi- nently, who love to make packets of old let- ters, over which they weep and sigh, or smile and laugh. Men's lives are too busy, and, as a rule, too practical, for such tender, foolish acts 6f remembrance. "And if Miss Desmond refuses-as, in my opinion, she is very likely to refuse-to re- turn your letters," said Max, "what then?" The other drew the railroad - ticket of which he had spoken trom his pocket and held it up. "This is what then!" he said. Max made one quick step forward-then checked himself and fell back. After all, violence would serve no good purpose. But it was almost a minute before he could com- mand his voice sufficiently to speak. "Do you mean it?" he asked, hoarsely. "Do you mean that you will dare to leave Miss Grahame like that!" "I mean," answered Arthur, "that I will not trust Norah Desmond! If she refuses to return my letters, I shall know that' she has a trap laid for me, and I am not quite fool enough to walk into it with my eyes open. You may tell her that if you like. I will not live such a life as I have been leading lately! It is infamous !-it is too much to expect of any man! If she refuses to return my let- ters, I shall leave the country, and she may take the burden of explanation on her own shoulders! It is all he~- fault from beginning to end! It was a cursed day for me when I first saw her face!" "This is your ultimatum, then," said Max, feeling that he must get away-that he would not be able to restrain himself many minutes longer. "You make the return of your letters an absolute condition for keep- ing faith with Miss Grahame?" 185 "Yes, an absolute condition!" said the other, emphatically.. With this understanding they parted. As Max went across the park to Rosland, be could not restrain the indignation which pos- sessed him; and yet even indignation was subordinated by uneasiness. "Is it doing well? is it a thing which can be excused un- der any circumstances, to put Leslie's hap~ pines into such keeping? " he asked him. self. "Is one so false likely to be more constant or more honorable in the future than in the past?" There was only one an- swer to such a question as this-leslie had put her own happiness into his hands. No outside person had been to blame for that. The sole point to be considered now was whether to leave her in happy ignorance, or to wake her to bitter knowledge; and this point, as we are aware, Max had long before decided. He shook his head many times, however, as he strolled slowly along through the woods and across the fields. He began to realize that it was a dangerous business-. this interfering, even with the best intentions, to make or mar the happiness of others' lives. When he reached Rosland they were at luncheon, and his entrance created a slight Stir of interest in what was else a very lan- guid company. "We did not expect you back so soon !" said Mrs. Sandford, wit!, a subdued flutter, as he sat down by her. She felt, no doubt, that it was on her account he had returned. His heart, or his conscience, or both together most likely, had smitten him after his return to Strafford, and he had come to seek pardon in the depths of her be- guiling eyes. Those eyes looked at him with the faintest shade of reproach imaginable gleaming through their gratification. "You don't deserve to be spoken to!" she confided to him. "Why did you go away this morning and leave me to be so frightfully dull? It was very, very unkind of you!" "I really cannot flatter myself that I should have had any power to keep the dull- ness at bay," he answered, impatient of her- self and her eyes, yet seeing no means of escape. A glance round the table showed him that everybody was dull and somewhat silent, as people are apt to be in the midat of "one of the warmest days of the season." Carl was the only exception to this rule. He looked restless instead of dull, and Max ( page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 ' A 'DAUGHTER encountered more than one glance expressive of any thing but amiability leveled at him- self Jy the brown eyes out of which all laugh- ter seemed, to have died. "Something un.- common is the matter with that fellow!" hie thought, as he seasoned his chicken plen- tifully with Worcestershire sauce, and an- swered Mrs. Sandford's remarks with dis- couraging brevity. Carl, meanwhile, was debating gloomily in his mind whether " that fellow " was in love with Norah himself, or was merely acting as the envoy of his cousin,. The' suggestion that any thing but Norah could have brought him to Rosland, would have been scouted contemptuolisly by this infatuated young man. " He who is giddy thinks the world turns round," and Carl was very giddy indeed at this time. Indeed, he was half mad with love and hopelessness and jealousy, and no more accountable for his thoughts or actions than a lunatic in a strait- jacket. It is a good thing that there is no Asmo- deus to lift the roofs from off our heads, or to open the doors of our hearts and, show what thoughts and feelings possess us. If there had been such an, inconvenient sprite, he might have revealed the fact that it was a very uncomfortable party who talked com- monplaces about the heat; and the coming guests of the evening. Of them all, Norah took things most philosophically. "When the worst comes, I shall simply pack my trunk and leave!" she thought. This reso- hition was possible to her, who had no keen- ly personal share in the annoyances-she was not tortured by doubt, or stung with pain, as some of the others were, Next to Norab, Mr. Middleton took things moat placidly. He was emphatically of the opinion that the whole business (Carl's infatuation, Norah's visit, and Leslie's engagement understood) was a confounded nuisance-it 'may even be that he characterized it still more strongly- but a man cannot excite himself with impu- nity when tbe thermometer is at eighty-five degrees, and Mr. Middleton dismissed his share of anxiety until cooler weather. When they were leaving table, Mrs. Sand- ford said, in a whisper, to Max: "I must speak to you as soon as possible, and alone. I have something of the utmost importance to tell you. Can you make an opportunity, or shall I? " "I-oh-I'll do it!" answered he, cast OF BOHEMIA. down to the very earth by this bold assault. Where was any hope of rescue or escape ? If he allowed himself to he entrapped into a private spot to receive Mrs. Sandford's over- flowing confidence, where would it end ?- when should he be able to see Norah ? Just then he could have echoed most heartily Mr. Weller's well-known sentiments with regard to widows. He felt desperate-and a desper- ate idea entered his mind. "I'll make an op- portunity as soon as possible," lie said. Af- ter this, he hurried away in search of Norah. Instead of Norah, it was Leslie whom he found in the sitting-room, where he had spent so many pleasant hours. It looked as pretty as ever, though he felt instinctively that the charm of repose, which had chiefly made it so delightful, had vanished. The same green still- ness brooded behind the half-closed blinds ; the table was covered with work and hooks- new magazines and novels principally ; the fragrance of roses was heavy ow the air; every thing was outwardly the sgme that it had been ten days before ; but the unseen stir and strife of passion had changed the place-. The air, which before was full of peace and serenity, now seemed full of fears,. doubts, suspicions-Max wondered if it was only his imagination which fancied this-. Leslie was standing by the centre-table, in the middle of the room, when he came in. He thought how pretty she looked, her slen- der figure "gowned in pure white," her grace-. ful brown head drooping like that of a classic statue! But there was something pathetic, as well as classic, in this drooping head, and she seemed fingering, half absently, the flow- ers which filled a large vase in the centre of the table. "See!" she said, turning with a smile- faint, and evidently forced-when Max came in. "Our poor roses !-the heat is too much for them. These are all that the garden af- fords, and see how imperfect they are-really scarce worth gathering!" "Very different from those you showed me in May," said he, coming and standing by her. "Do you remember that evening in Al- ton ?-How lovely the roses were ! and how you laughed at me for not knowing more of their nomenclature !" "I remember," she said. " You mean the evening that Mrs. Sandford came in, and- and Arthur was there ? Yes, they were love-, ly- every thing was lovely- that evening'. U But we cannot have the roses of May in July." ' " No," said he, looking at her face, out of which its delicate roses had fled. " You are not well," he added, abruptly. "I-I am afraid you may be worrying about something." " Why should you think that ?" asked she, looking at him with a quick keenness in her soft gray eyes. "I am perfectly well, and- what should I worry about ? " "Women find a thousand things to worry about, of which a man knows nothing," an- swered he. "I thought perhaps you might have fancied, imagined something-you are not looking well!" he repeated, positively. At that moment he felt a strong and very un- gallant inclination to choke Mrs. Sandford. " Had her tongue done this mischief ?" " I was never a person to fancy or imagine things," said Leslie, lifting her lily-like neck prog1dly. " I have always had a great con- tempt for people of that kind. They not only make their own misery, but the misery of all around them. They are mean, and suspicious, and-and jealous at last, perhaps ! I would die sooner than give way to such .en inclina- tion !" cried she, with a sudden pang-a rush of unshed tears-in her voice, 'which told her listener the whole story of her struggle. And what could that listener say ? Neither reassurance nor comfort was his to give. Besides, what right had he to offer it to Arthur Tyndale's future wife ? His heart was touched as it might have been by the bravely- borne suffering of a child. But Leslie Gra- hame was no child. She was a woman whom he might once have loved, who iight have made his life as different as he would certain- ly have made hers, if the caprice of Fate had not decided otherwise. Now there was no thought of love in his heart-nly pity-akin to tenderness, as he watched the quick flush of pain coming and going in her pale cheeks. " I ,told you once-on that evening of which we were speaking a minute ago," he said, " that, even if one crushed a lily, its I fragrance would remain. If you were crushed by the worst trquble in the world, I am sure l you would still be yourself, and therefore in- capable of an ungenerous thought. But why I should you think of such things ? There is no need for you to do so." ' "Is there no need for me to do so ?" asked 1 she, turning suddenly and facing him with a breathless look in her eyes. "On your hionor,t Captain Tyndale, do yiou know of no need for me to do so? " On his honor ! What could Max say ? Some men have an idea that they can better tell a lie on any thing else than on their "honor." Others, as we are aware, hold that abstraction very lightly indeed. Max was one of theformer class. He hesitated, flushed, looked uncomfortable and awkward, when called upon to perjure himself. Leslie turned away with a little dreary laugh-in which there was a heart-sick sound, if he had been quick enough to catch it. "How foolish I am!", shc said. "How should you know any thing about it ? See what nonsense you have led me into talking Where is Norah, I wonder ? Do you know ? And Mrs. Sandford seems to have vanished, too." " You must not misunderstand my si- lence," he began; but she interrupted him quickly: " Have I not told you that I am the last person in the world to' misunderstand any thing ? Tell me whom you would like to take in to dinner, this evening, and I will try to see that you are gratified. Mrs. Sandford ?" -"Good Heavcns, no!" he answered, in genuine dismay; but, before he could say any thing further to avert such a fate, Mrs. Sand- ford herself appeared in the open door. CHAPTER XXIII. " How often one dead joy appears And, let us own, the sharpetertpe Which human patience may endure Pays light for that which leaves the beart More generous, dignified, and pure." SHE was armed and equipped for conquest. Mfax saw that in a moment, with a sinking of the heart impossible to describe. He was rather hlind to the details and intricacies of feminine costume as a general rule, but a sense of danger sharpens the eyes wonderful- y, and he perceived at a glance that the brief time which Mrs. Sandford had spent up-stairs had sufficed for several important changes of toilet. He was not sufficiently learned in the names of different articles of dress to have been able to specify that she had donned a different polonaise, and added a butterfly-how o the already elaborate arrangement of her LESLIE. AND CAPTAIN TYNDALE. 137 page: 138[View Page 138] r 138 A DAUGHTER OF BOHE~IIA. I hair; but he recognized the fact of some change-and he knew what it meant I "I thought you had retired for your siesta," said Lesli~, turning round from the roses; and then eke saw the change of toilet, and knew, also, what it meant. "I think this is the coolest room in the house," said the pretty widow, with a con- scious air. "Mine is really intolerable just now, though it is so pleasant usually. I think warm weather is apt to make one rest. less. Don't you think so, Captain Tyndale? It must have made ziou restless "-with a little playful arch of the eyebrows-" else yen would not have undertaken so many Walks through the sun to-day." "Might not something besides restless. ~iess account for that?" asked Max. lie was tired to death of the woman-of her af. fectations, and mannerisms, and great wide- open blue eyes; but it is not exactly com- patible with civility in general, nor with the chivalry due to the fair sex in particular, to turn a deaf ear to l~emarks which were spe. cially addressed to him, backed by the eyes aroresaid, and a new French muslin polonaise of the latest and most becoming fashion. "It is not restlessness which draws the ~ieedle to the magnet," said Leslie, smiling, For she knew what Mrs. Sandford thought. "Then, if Captain Tyndale is the needle, somebody else must be the magnet," said that lady.-" Who is it, Captain Tyndale? We insist upon your telling us who it is- "Do you?" said Captain Tyndale. "But, unless you have thumb-scr~ws at hand, I am afraid there is no chance of your wringing a confession from me." In this, species of nonsense several min- utes passed. Max began to feel more and more desperate. Where was Norah? He saw Leslie glance at the clock; he knew that before long she would apologize, retire for her 8~eeta, and leave him to his fate-the hor- rible fate of spending tWo or three hours of a broiling afternoon shut up in a flower-scented room with Mrs. Sandford. If he could only see or hear any thing of Norahl He begali to grow impatient, as well as desperate. She knew-she must have known-that he had come over to Rosland to see her, and yet she had coolly taken herself out of his way. "She might have spared me half an hour from her beauty-sleep; or from her flirtation with Middleton!" he thought. "It was not for myself that I wanted to see her!" Feeling injured and indignant, he began to meditate how he could best make his es- cape, when the sudden tramp of a horse's feet on a carriage-drive beyond the veranda made them all start. "Is any one coming?" asked Leslie, in that tone of horror-stricken deprecation which the approach of a visitor so often calls forth. She opened the blind cautiously and looked out. "No; it is only Carl!" she said, with a sigh of relief "What a strange time of day to be going any- where I" "lie is a strange kind of person," said Mrs. Sandford, languidly. There was no- body she felt less interest in than Carl, for the very good and sufficient reason that he had not paid her the compliment of evincing the lcastinterest in her. "An untimely fancy for exercise seems to have seized more than one member of your household," said Max, starting up, and walk- ing to another window a window which, being on the shady side of the room, stood partly open, and commanded a view of the grounds beyond. "Is not that Miss Des- moud yonder?" "Upon my word, I believe it is!" said Leslie, aghast. "Is she trying to get a sun- stroke or a fever, do you suppose, that she has gone to walk at such an hour?" "Perhaps she has an engagement to meet Mr. Middleton somewhere," said Mrs. Sand- ford, putting up her eye-glass, and scrutiniz- ing the graceful figure which at that moment was thrown into vivid relief by a deep-green hedge. "Miss Desinond has a fancy for that kind of thing, I believe. It gives a spice of -of what you might call Bohemianism to her intercourse with gentlemen." "I think you are mistaken," said Leslie, quickly. "There are many people who have never lived in Bohemia, who are much more fond of that sort of thing, as you call it, thaii Norah is; and," added the loyal advocate, proudly, "her society is sufficiently attractive in itself to dispense with any spice offastness." "My dear," said Mrs. Sandford, with efl~u~ sion, "you must really excuse me.l I am sure I' meant no harm, but my tongue is so heedless, and you certainly are the kindest and most generous person in the world to talkac!" "I really do not see what my appreciation page: Illustration-139[View Page Illustration-139] N 17nrFffl~rllrrn~ ~rrrrrrnrmrn II { d 1111! 11 ft 'I 1ff ft ~i 1 I' Ic -I C' *0 I, '5 I- '5 () I I, a~. #1 A KINDLY WARNING. 139 of Norali has to do with kindness and gener- osity," answered Leslie, still haughtily in arms. "Nobody can appreciate her more than I do!" said Mrs. Sandford-which; in a certain way, was quite true "~obody can deny that she is very beautiful and very attract- Good Heavens I Captain Tyndale, what are you going to do?" she cried, breaking off with a sudden exclamation of alarm. "I don't think Miss Desmond ought to be allowed to take a sunstroke or a fever with- out a warning," answered Max, who had swung himself over the low sill of the open window to the ground outside. "I am going to warn her, therefore. If she does not choose to listen to mc, my conscience will be clear at least' lie stepped ruthlessly across a flower-bed which made a mass of bloom in front of the window, and walked quickly away in the direction Norah had taken-so quickly that a looker-on might have been pardoned for' thinking that he was afraid of being called back. But Mrs. Sandford was speechless. She gazed after him with crinison cheeks and angry eyes; but she had sense enough to say nothi~ig. Leslie, who felt sorry for her, was the first to speak. "Captain Tyndale Will be back in a few minutes, no doubt. He cannot mean to go far-in this sun!" "If he comes back instantly, lie will not find me," answered Mrs. Sandford, in a voice that quivered-~--with anger, not with tears. She rose as she spoke. Leslie could not help thinking how pretty she looked. Ex- citement had, as it were, torn oft' her habitual veil of affectation; the real woman was in arms against the slight which had been passed upon herself and her elaborate toilet. Her cheeks were like carnations, her eyes flashed ire~ It was a tempest in a teapot, but even tempests in teapots may sometimes work mischief. At that moment it was a gratifying thought that she could, at least, break her promise to Max, and in that way cause him a little annoyance. "If Miss Desmond even walks across the lawn,, other women must, of course, expect to be forsaken immediately!" she said, with that faint, scornful laugh which is significant of any thing in the world but amusement. "For a young lady who keeps so many strings to her bow, she manages them all with a great deal of skill!" "It was not Norah's fault that Captain Tyndale went after her," said Leslie. "Par- don mc, Mrs. Sandford, but you must really understand that I cannot listen-" "It is not my affair, of course," said Mrs. Sandford, interrupting her, but without any of the honeyed apology of a little while be- fore in her words or voice. "Miss Des- mond's admirers, or lovers, or whatever they may he, do not concern me. It would be well, perhaps, if everybody could say the same thing; but when a woman has that insatiable love of admiration, there is no tell- ing wAere it will stop!" "Is it Norah whom you mean has an in- satiable love of admiration?" asked Leslie, dully csnscious'that it was even itt this wom- an's powei~ te add to her pain. "I have not.: observed it." "My dear," said the other, soleznsily,~ "what hare you observed? It is beautiful to see your perfect 1ra~at, your generous blind.. ness; but, 'indeed, 'it is not wise, it is not doing jilatice to your-" She stopped short, for' Leslie turned tow-i ard her with a look on her thee such as. no- body had ever seen the fair, serene f&atnrea ~vear before. "What do you mean?" she~asked. "Yen. said something like this yesterday, but I aifr not quick to read innuendoes - indeed, I' should scorn to read almost as much. as I' should scorn to make them. If you have. any thing to any-any thing to tell me-~--speak' plainly, and I will 'listen to you. But if yen only mean to hint and suggest like this, I have heard enough." "It is impossible for inc to speak plainly,"' said Mrs. Saudford, "atlenat, not now. But, o Leslie, if you would only open your eyes and look-" "I have heard enough I"' repeated Leslie, haughtily. She turned decidedly and walked a~y. "I should not be surprised if we had a thunder.storra this' afternoon," she said. "The air is sultry." "I. se~ that I had better go," said Mrs. Sandford, mounting a high horse of injured feeling. "I hat~e driven Captain Tyndale away, and offended you; but it may not be long before you will be sorry for not having listened to me, Leslie!" "I shall never be sorry for not having page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 140 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. MORAL COWARDICE. 141 listened to anybody who dares not, or will not, speak outright!" said Leslie, turning round again ~' I detest insinuation!" she cried, in her proud, passionate, pained voice. "It means something, or it does not. In either case it is the weapon of a-" She stopped abruptly. "Coward," she would have added, if courtesy had not come to her aid in time. "Oh, pray say what you please!" cried Mrs. Sandford. "People who attempt to serve their friends must always expect to be treated like this. I knew it, of course, but my heart is so easily touched-I could not keep silence! As I said before, you will be sorry-when it is too late, perhaps." Then she turned hastily and left the room. It was not only the natural feminine desire for the last wQrd, which made her do this;* it was a measure of precaution lest she should be forced into a (metaphorical) corner, and made to confess oii how little of actual knowledge her insinuations were based. A few broken words on the terrace at Strafford which she had caught, and which might be denied outright by either~or both of the par- ties concerned-it would have been a sore humiliation to be obliged to confess that this was all. No, before she could speak, as she meant to speak, she must have proof, some- thing which could n0( be gainsaid. "I'll stay here until~I find that!" she said to her- s~lf, when she gained the solitude of her own room. It was a magnanimous resolution to take, and showed that she was in earnest in her desire-to serve Leslie! As a rule, she did not stay at. any place where she was not amused, and if Max deserted her standard4 amusement (of the kind she liked) would cer- tainly be hard to find at Rosland. Max, meanwhile, had overtaken, .without very much difficult, the young, lady in a pur- ple muslin dress, which had not been donned for his benefit, since it was the same in which she had appeat~ed at both breakfast and lunch- eon, who was sauntering along under a sun- umbrella. Hearing his step, she had paused and turned round-brightening into wonder- ful beauty, he thought, as she smiled at his approach. "Is that your usual rate of walking?" she asked, as he gained her side. "If so, you mubi get over great dei~1 ~f ground in a very short time." "Is it your usual custom to come out at three r. M. of a July day 1' If so, you must be proof against sunstrokes and fevers." "It is very uncivil to answer a question by asking one." "I only wanted to show you that other things, as well as your present exercise, may be exceptional.~* "My present exercise is for a purpose," said she. "What was the good of attempt- ing to talk to you in the house ?-and I saw you had something to say to me." "You are quite right," he answered. "I have something to say to you-something which brought me over from Strafford-but I really cannot imagine how you could have expected me to follow you, without a word to notify mc of your intention of going out." "Are you so stupid that words are neces- sary for you?" asked she. "I have known some men who might really have dispensed with language. A tone, a glance, was enough for them. One did not need to say, point- blank, 'Monsieur, put on your hat and meet me in the garden.' They knew-they divined -without a word." "What remarkably clcvcr fellows they must have been!" said Max. "But you might have discovered, some time ago, that I do not belong to such a class. I need words -the plainer the better. The proof of it is that it was only by chance I saw you-only by change that I am here now." "You must have been blind if you had not seen me!" said she, impatiently. "What! a woman in a purple dress walk across a green lawn in full view of an open window, and you tell me that it was only 'by chance' you saw her! You ought to have borrowed Mrs. Sand- ford's eye-glasses! She has so little need for them that she might readily have spared them." "That would have been turning her weap- ons against herself with a vengeance.'~ "You mean that she was so anxious for you to remain? You share the proverbial modesty of your sex, I perceive! But, since you are here, suppose we proceed to business? You did not come for pleasure any more than I did, I any sure." "Speak for yourself!" said he, smiling. Her dauntless coolness and self-possession amused, even while it piqued him a little. He wondered if it WQuld not be possible to make her cheeks flush, her eyes droop, her ready tongue falter. Nothing was more un- likely, but he had an odd desire to see such a transformation. Indeed, I have not the least disposition to speak for you," said she, in answer to his last speech. "You have a tongue: you are able to do that for yourself'~ (this in rather a disparaging tone, as if there might be several other things which he was not able to do for himself). "If it amuses you to walk out here in the heat, I am glad of it; but it does not amuse me in the least, and therefore I wish you would say what you are going to say at once." "As a preliminary step, can't we sit down somewhere? Perpetual motion i~not pa~ticu. larly agreeable in cool weather, but in warm weather, it is intolerable." "There is nowhere to sit, unless we sit on the ground. The rustic seats are all on the other side of the lawn. You might have brought a camp-stool along if you had thouglft. Then I might have stood over you with an um- brella and a fan." "The prospect is so entrancing that I have half a mind to ~o back for the camp- stool." "Don't expect to find me when you return -that is all." "Let us try the ground, then," said he, taking out his handkerchief, and spreading it at the foot of a large tree. "Unless you are rheumatic, it is not likely to injure you." "I am afraid that, if I sit down, you will talk for an hour," said she, frankly; but she sat down, nevertheless. "Now, pray be brief t" she said, as he east himself carelessly on the warm grass by her side. "Very well," answered he. "To be as brief as possible, then, I have seen Arthur, and I have found him even more intractable than I expected. His character seems to have undergone the most sudden and wonder- ful change. , sullen and defiant and so He is impatient of the annoyance, which has been his own work, that I absolutely found him ready-prepared-to leave the country." "Indeed!" said she; but she evinced no ~urprise. "Perhaps his character has not changed so much as you imagine," she added; "perhaps it has only developed. Well, he has made up his mind to leave the country, has he? But how about Leslie? She is not exactly a person whom even Mr. Arthur Tyn. dale can afford to jilt with impunity. Awom- an who, baa wealth, and position, and friends, 0 ~ to shield her, is not like a Bohemian waif. He ought to. remember that." "He is not sufficiently cool at present to remember any thing. But, when I-thinking only of Miss Grahame-ventured to offer for- * getfulness, in your name, and silence with re~ gard to the past, he half agreed to keep faith with her." "Half agreed! Is the man mad? He must fancy himself a second King Louis of Bavaria-able, if he feels inclined, to jilt prin- cesses." "He professes himself unable to trust your promise. He insists upon some sub- stantial proof that you mean to allow the past to drop into oblivion. I am half afraid to tell you what this proof is." "Perhaps ~ can guess," said she, calmly. "He wants his letters, does he not?" "Yes, he wants his letters." "Really," said she, with a 1aug11, "his au- dacity is greater than even I had imagined! So he thinks himself able to dictate terms to me / And suppose I decline to return the let- ters-what then?" "I asked him that very question, and he replied by showing me his railroad-ticket.- That is 'what, then!' he answered." "Do you think he means it?" she asked, with a sudden flash in her eye. "Do yoa think he would dare it?" "I am sure he means it. I am inclined to thinI~ he would dare it. Easiest of all things to a moral coward is the thing called running away." "But, suppose I run into the house-this minute-and lay tile matter before Leslie's uncle? Cannot he find a remedy? Will he see her treated like this?" "He would probably insist at once upon her breaking the engagement, and h.~m would certainly forbid Arthur ever to enter his house or claim his acquaintance again." "Would he do nothing more than that?" "What else could he do? Gentlemen do not assault each other either with horse- whips or epithets. Dueling is not in Mr. Middleton's line, I imagine; and in any case the man is more than a fool who draws a woman's name into an affair of that kind." "Then the matter stands thus: I must either tell Leslie the truth, in order that she may be able to take the initiative step in breaking the engagement, or I must comply page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. with this coward's demand and return his letters." "That is the light in which it stands, cci- tainly." "The coward!" said she, again, between her clinched teeth. "The false-hearted cow- ard! But do you not see that it would be madness to do this?" she cried, turning sud- denly, almost fiercely, upoti him. "Do you not see that, if I give up these letters, I place myself in Arthur Tyndale's power? My good name lies at his mercy! He could say any thing of me, and I should have no power to refute it! You do not think of me-you think altogether of Leslie, Captain Tyndale; but, when it comes to snob a point as this, I must think of myself." "You are mistaken," said Max. He spoke coolly enough, but, as he raised himself with sudden energy from the grass, there was a look of excitement not common with him on his face. "I do think of you; I have thought of you ever since lie made the proposal, but I wanted to see what you would say. You are quite right. There are no circumstances which would justify you in resigning those letters to a man whom no pledge of honor seems capable of binding." "And yet what remains for me?" "To tell the truth to Miss Grahaine." "You say that?" A look of surprise came into her face. Then she laughed-a faiiit, low laugh, which he did not understand. "You are very generous, Captain Tyndale. I fancied you would have been willing to sacri- fice me, and every thing connected with me, to spare Leslie one pang." "Why should you have fancied such a thing?" said he, almost ir~dignantly. "I know that women are prone to imagination, but still you do not realize as I do, Miss Des- inond, what you would be giving up if you relinquished those letters." "I think I realize perfectly," answered she. "I have seen a great deal of the world, and, as a rule, it does not show its best side to vagabonds. But there are one or two points to be considered," said she, plucking absently at the grass by her side. "In the first place, Arthur Tyndale's life and mine will, after this, lie far apart; it will be out of his power, therefore, to harm me very much. In the second place, he will have no reason to speak ill of me-on the con- ~rary, it will be to his interest to keep all knowledge of our past acquaintance from Leslie." "It is not safe to trust to such contin- gencies as those," said Max, earnestly. "You cannot tell how far your life may yet meet, cross, be affected, by that of Arthur. It is as impossible to thrust people as to thrust memories absolutely away; they come back npon us when we are least expecting them. As for his having no reason to speak ill of you, young as you are, you ought to be enough a woman of the world to know better than that. You have~stung his vanity, and wounded his pride. Is not that reason enough to make you expect any degree of enmity, any falsity of slander?" "I must expect those things of neces- sity," said she. "I have tried them. They are not pleasant, but I can bear them." "You can bear them ! "repeated Max. He stared at her aghast. "You don't know what you are talking about," lie said, impa- tiently. "These things which you talk of 'bearing' are poisoned arrows which have slain many a heart as high and proud as yours. You were right a few minutes ago when you said that you would put your good name absolutely into Arthur Tyndale's power by returning him these letters. Forgive me if I speak plainly, but it is necessary that you ~should understand why such a thing must not ~e done." "Not even for Leslie's sake?" asked she, looking at him intently. "No I" answered he, sharply. "The sac- rifice is too great-far greater than the occa- sion. Not to save your sisters heart from breaking, have you a right to do it!" She looked at him for a little while longer with eyes that softened momently. Some in- ner feeling seemed at work. Her lips quiv- ered slightly~a wave of color swept into her face, and then ebbed away. It was not quite the transformation for which Max had wished a short time before, but it was something like it. "You are very kind," she said, at last, in a voice that struck the ear as being full of more than one emotion. "It is very good of you-you who are Arthur Tyndale's cousin and Leslie's friend-to think of me. I had not expected it. You see I am not used to consideration - admiration, and attention, perhaps, but not consideration. I thought you would think of Leslie and Leslie~s inter- I IHE ONLY ALTERNATIVE. eat alone. Well, since~ you do not think of it, I must," she added. "Captain Tyndale, do you know what Leslie is to me?" "Your sister, is she not?" said he, doubt- fully, wondering what would come next. Sure- ly this was an incomprehensible woman-n woman who made such wild havoc of all his previous opinions concerning her that he be- gan to resign himself to having no opinion at all, but simply accepting whatever view of her varying character she chose to show him. "My sister," repeated she, doubtfully. "Yes, she is that, and I suppose it means something- but not very much! She is more than that, Captain Tyndale. She is the first person who has ever-ever in nil our lives-made a kind advance to us, or held out a helping hand. My mother's relations have ,never taken the slightest notice of us. Papa's relations long ago discarded him. He comes of good people," said she, drawing her- self up with all the pride of her Milesian blood; "but, of course, that did not help us, since the good people had long since-before I was born, I suppose-given him up. But Leslie came forward-without any need to do so, in the face of all the prejudices of her caste-and held out her hand to us. It makes a tie stronger than that of blood!" cried she, with eyes that melted and flashed both at once. "She meant to do u~ good, and shalL my coming work her harm? Not if I can help it, you may be sure!" "But can you help it?" asked lie, look. ing at her, and thinking that he had never seen a more beautiful and majestic creature than she seemed just then. * "I can help it by giving Arthur Tyndale what lie demands-his letters." "You will not!" cried he, quickly-al- most passionately. "You are not in earnest; you will not do such a thing!" "Yes, I am in earnest," answered she. "After all, he may have some faint instinct of honor, and the fact that I am in his power may seal his lips." "I might have thought that yesterday, but not to-day. To-day I know him to be false and treacherous to the very core-to be literally without a single instinct of the man of honor!" "Still," said she, "I must risk it, since you tell me that this is the only alternative; that lie will certainly leave as he threatens if I refuse- 143 "Upon my word, Miss Desmond," inter- rupted he, "you tempt me to go to your sis- ter and tell her the whole truth on my own responsibility." "You would not dare to do such a thing!" cried she. "It is not your secret! You have no right !-it would be infamous!" "I only said you tempted me; but it would be better than this which you propose." "I must make one condition, however," said she, imperiously, sweeping his objections away like cobwebs, as he could not help feel- ing; "my letters, if Arthur Tyndale still re- tains them, they must be returned." "I made that condition in your name, and lie assures me-I am ineliped to think, truly -that he has not a line of one of them." Then, as it to apologize, "Men seldom keep such things, you know." "It does not matter very much whether lie is speaking truly or falsely," said she, care. lessly.. "I am glad to remember that I was not foolish enough to put any thing on record against myself which the whole world might not read. A propose of letters," said she, turning suddenly again, "did you destroy, or have you still, the one I wrote to Kate, and which the wind carried to you?" "Destroy it!" repeated he, starting. "I -I do not think so. Why do you asJ~?" "Simply because I feel a natural curiosity to know what has become of it, and a natural reluctance to its falling into other hands. I wrote more freely in that letter than I often do. Ink and paper are unsafe things to trust, if only for the reason that they often outlast more solid things. Since you have not de- stroyed the letter, I shall be glad if you will return it." "I am very sori'y," said he, looking at her with honest, troubled eyes, "but I am serious- ly in doubt about that letter. * I do not know what has become of it. I may have destroyed or I may have mislaid it; but, at least; I can- not. find it. I know there is no excuse for me, but I have looked for it several times, and I will look again." "How is it possible that you could have~ destroyed it without knowing?" asked No- rab. If she had glanced at him nuspieiou8ly, it might have been forgiven her. That expe- rience of the rougher side of life, on which she dwelt so much, did not incline her to a very childlike faith in men or thei~' asser- tions. 0 page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] 144 A DAUGHTER "I am often very absent - minded," said Max, who saw the suspicion, but had sense enough not to resent it. "I have often de- stroyed a letter, and then wanted it. I may have destroyed this one, or I may have mis- laid it, though .1 can't magicc where!" said he, with a puzzled look. This look somewhat convinced her of his sincerity. She questioned him closely as to when he had seen the letter last, what he had done with it, and where he had put it, until she finally elicited the fact that it had "prob- ably" been left on his table, with other pa. pers, on the evening of the day which they had spent at Strafford. "Is that your last recollection of it?" asked she, looking at him keenly. "That is my last recollection of it. I re- member I walked out for a few minutes that night "-one's memory plays one tricks some- times: Max honestly thought it had only been a few minutes-" and when I came back I found the wind had scattered my papers over the floor." "But when you gathered them up, did you not notice whether this letter was among them?" "I did not gather them up at once, be- cause-" He stopped short. A flash of light seemed to come to him. "By Jove!" he said, under his mustache; "could its have done such a thing?" "Mr. Tyndale, do you mean?" asked No- rah, whose ears were quick. "I have not doubted from the first but that he has the let- ter. If you found him in your room on the night you missed it, that is very good proof. Well, I make the return of it a 'condition also -let him understand that, Captain Tyndale." *"He may deny that he has it-he may affirm that he has destroyed it." "The first you know to be false; the sec- ond is not likely." "I cannot imagine how I shall constrain myself to meet him, to speak to him!" said the young man, bitterly. "He has proved himself so false-he is so utterly unworthy of the name he bears!" "If we never met or spoke to people who are false, our list ~f acquaintances would be a very small one!" said Norah, cynically. "But it has certainly struck me more than once that you have taken a great deal of annoyance and trouble upon yourself from pure friendship- riatonic and otherwise." OF BOHEMIA-. "I am not sure that it has been from pure friendship of any kind," said he. -4-- CHAPTER XXIV. "Caii a man sit mute by a fast-barred door While the night-showers cut through the shiv- ering skin, Yet love in her hardness, love on, love more, That cold-eyed beauty who smiles within? Such a man-he is dead long since-I knew: There was one thatnevercould know him-you!" Ir the events of this particular day have seemed long in narrating-and they are not yet over-they seemed even longer in tran- spiring to me than one member of the house- hold at Rosland. As Norab, having com- pleted her dinner - toilet, stood before her open window for a moment, looking out on the dying beauty of the summer evening, she asked herself if it had really been only one day since she had looked out of the window on the sparkling freshness of early morning. "It has seemed like two or three days melt- ed into one!" she said, wearily. "And it is not yet over-indeed, its most trying period is yet to come!" The sound of carriage-wheels warned her, however, that she could not give any more time to meditation; so, taking her fan and gloves, and with a last glance in the mirror, she went down-stairs. The drawing-room was already full, but the hum of conversation ceased a little as she entered. Many of the guests had not seen her before, others were anxious to see her again-a slight, involun- tary thrill of admiration passed round the r6om. Nobody could deny Norah Desmond's beauty. It was for the comprehension and appreciation alike of prince and peasant. She was so well accustomed to the sensation which her appearance always made, that it brought no added color to her face, no tinge of self - consciousness to her manner. She spoke to one or two people whom she knew, and then crossed the room to Leslie, before she perceived that Arthur Tyndale was stand- ing by her aide. Recognizing him with a start, she bowed, and then turned to her sis- ter. "I fear I am late," she said, more for the sake of saying something than because she really did fear it "Not at all," answered Leslie. "There I A DINNER-PARTY. are several people yet to come-people wh do not understand the necessity of punctu ality at a dinner-party. And there is Mrs. Sandford just entering!" she said, with some thing like a laugh in her voice. "Fancy how some of our old-fashioned friends arc shocked!" Norah turned. Her first thought was that the old - fashioned friends in question might be excused; for certainly a lady so d6. co1let~e as Mrs. Sandford was, is rarely seen in a country drawing-room. Magnificent of train and 6o~~,fante of overskirt was her laven- der silk, with its thread-lace flounces of fabu- Ions value; but the fashionable lowne~s of her corsage, and the fashionable shortness of her sleeves, were a revelation to the country- bred eyes looking on. 'k~id you ever see the like of that?" more than one lady said in a w~iisper to her neighbor, while one un- sophisticated young person turned into a cor- ner to blush. The shoulders and arms thus lavishly displayed had some flesh on them, however - which is more than can always be said-and the diamonds which encircled them soon brought public virtue down to a temperate point of tolerance. Somewhat to Norah's surprise, she found herself assigned to Max Tyndale when dinner was announced. "This is kinder of Mrs. Middleton than I hoped!" she said, frankly, as they moved out of the drawing-room. "I fully expected to be given over to the tender mercies of a oQuntry Philistine-probably that young Coy- ington who took my breath away a few min- utes ago by coolly addressing me as 'Miss Norah~'" "Did you not know that that is the cus- tomary form of address in this country?" asked Max. "It is scarcely likely that he intended to be impertinent." "Do you mean to say that it is the cus- tom of the country among well - bred peo- ple?" asked she. "Do you mean to tell me that it is considered good style? Why, it is atadge of vulgarians abroad." "It is not the custom of the country among the very best-bred people," answered he; "but a great many people who are well bred in every thing else do it, and mean no harm-like our guileless young friend, who never called any woman ~y her surname for more than ten minutes, I suppose~" "He will not be likely to call mc by any 10 145 thing else again," said she, laughing. "I - gave him a stare which petrified him." * "How would you like to be called 'Mi~~ - Nonie?'" asked he, smiling. (They had sat down to table by this time.) "I heard a young lady, who was baptized Leonora, ad- dressed by that euphonious diminutive the other day." "I detest all hut a very few abbrevia- tions," said she, "and with silly ones I have no patience. If I were a queen, I would rig- orously abolish them. Anybody found guilty, for instance, of transforming the queenly name of Margaret into Maggie, should cer- tainly be imprisoned; and I should make it a * capital offense to call a Mary by any of the numerous nicknames of that most holy and beautiful of names.~~ "I am afraid your subjects would rebel. Nothing is so dear to the feminine heart as abbreviations. There is Mrs. Sandford, for instance, who looks like the Queen of Sheba, or Solomon in all his glory, yet who writes little gushing school-girl notes, and signs them Nellie.' " ~' Mrs. Sandford will smack of bread-and- butter as long as she lives," said Norah. "By-the-by, she is looking handsome, is she not? But her dress would suh a ball better than a dinner-with a game of ckquet in prospect." "Do you remember a little poem of Owen Meredith's, called 'Madame Ia Marquise?"' asked Max. "Of course you do-everybody does! It might answer for a portrait, don't you think ?-especially these verses: 'Could we find out her heart through that velvet and lace! Can it beat without ruffling her sumptuous drass? She will show us her shoulder, her bosom, her face; But what the heart's like, we must guess. 'With live women and men to be found in the world- (Live with sorrow and sin-live with pain anil with passion)- Who could live with a doll, though its locks should be curled, And its petticoats trimmed in the fashion?'" "I am sure Mrs. Sandford would be much complimented by the comparison," said No- rah, mischievously. "She told me the other day that she 'adored' Owen Meredith. I took it for granted that she meant his po- etry." page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] .146 A DAUGHTER Qbserving the precept of charity after this admirable fashion, their conversation flowed like a stream of easy, rippling water. Norah's tongue always had the true Milesian Ilt~ency-flobody aver had to "make talk" with her.-and Max was not half a Frenchman for nothing. One topic naturally led to anoth- er, and it was not until a momentary lull camethathe said: " I did~ not see Arthur, after all. He had left Stratford when I got back, and he did not return before coming here. So I have not delivered your message." "Indeed 1-I am sorry!" she answered. That was all she trusted herself to say; there were too many inquisitive ears around According to the English fashion-which was a novelty in M-..- County-the gen- ,tlemen were left over their wine, while the ladies scattered about the drawing-room in knots and groups, talking bits of country gossip, mingled with remarks on the state of the gardens, the st&te of the roads, and the state of the weather. Everybody knew everybody else - for it was a "nice" neighborhood- and general good-fellowship prevailed. Norah was the only person who was outside the charmed circle of sympathy and knowledge. The ladies were shy of her because' they were afraid of her; she was stiff with them because she knew very little of women, and because she had a habit of instinctively arming herself against possible or probable patronage. She was tired, too, and the chatter of many voices wearied her; * so, stepping through an open window' to the veranda beyond, she stood under one of the leafy arches, resting her mind with the soft, fragrant quiet of the outer world, and watch- ing the moon rising in majesty above the tree- tops into the clear eastern heaven. * How beautiful it was! The earth seemed lying in a trance under the silvery lustre which made a brightnesS like that or day without its heat. The sky was a deep hya- cinth - blue, the shadows where they rested were dark without being dense,' but where the moonlight fell in broad, white glory, every leaf and spray was clearly visible, every peb- ble shone like a jeweL It is something for which we should thank ~od afresh every time it comes - this marvelous, matchless beauty of moonlight, this tender, dazzling radiance, which, putting aside all the colors that deck the day, paints the earth in black and white, OF BOHEMIA. and makes it of a something so fair that we are fain to liken it to our earthly imaginings of the "city of the saints of Ood2' Norab was so absorbed in the beauty of the scene, and so rapt in thought, that she did not notice the entrance of the gentlemen into the room behind her; and she was still standing- a statue-like figure in the lustrous light, with the graceful tracery of leaves and starry flowers all around her-.-when some one came to her side and said, "I thought it could only be yod I" She turned abruptly-fancying, for a mo- ment, that the voice was that of Arthur Tyn. dale- but it was Carl Middleton who was looking at her, with something strangely pas- sionate and wistful on his face. She was so much relieved that she smiled. "Is it you?" she said. "I thought it was some one much more disagreeable!" "I am glad to know that there is any one whom you consider more disagreeable," said he. "I fancied that, in your eyes, I had cer- tainly attained the superlative degree in that quality at least." "You know that is nonsense," answered she, impatiently. "I do not consider you disagreeable at all, unless-unless you make yourself so 1" "That is to say, if I chose to talk com- Inonpiaces, like any other man~ to whom you were introduced an hour ago, you w~uld tol- erate me as you tolerate him. Well, it does not matter. Your toleration, or want of tol- eration, will soon be over for me. I came to say good-by." "Good-by !" she echoed. His manner star- tled her even more than his words; there was something in it totally new, something which she did not understand. "But why 'good- by?' Are you going away-now.?" "Yes, I am going away now. I need change of air-I do not think this climate agrees with me. Besides" (fiercely)," I am done with making a fool of myself! I see at last how useless and hopeless it is! I eenze too tate / What can a man do against the spell of old association? I am going- at once!" "It is a very good resolution!" said No- rah, coldly. Nobody can blame her if she was tired of this violent and impracticable suitor of hers. A man who cannot understand a rejection, and who refuses to take it quietly, makes himself worse than a bore in the eyes 'I CARL MIDDLETON'S RESOLUTION. of a woman. However sorry she may have been for him at first, this sorrow inevitably changes into impatience, disgust, and con- tempt, if she is annoyed by undesired per- sistence. Now, Norah had not only been wearied by Carl, but she had been provoked and insulted by him-he had indeed repeated his worst offense in his last words there- fore her voice sounded like ice when she said: "It is a very good resolution." "I was sure you Would think so!" he said, defiantly. ~' I was sure I could not bring you better news. But you do n~t ask roe where I am going-.I thought you might take enough interest in me for that! '~ She looked at him doubtfully. What did he mean 2 More and more it struck her how unlike himself he wan More and more she perceived what a pale, passionate face it was on which the moonlight shone. "If you would let me, I should be glad to know-I should be glad to take interest," she said, hesitatingly. After all, he 'was not accountable, perhaps, for hi~ defiant looks, his significant tones, hi~ reckless words. Men are such fools-that was the result of Norah's experience as well as Mvs. Sandford's -and he was crazy just now, poor 'boy! "I am going down to L-.--..- County to see my relations there. Even ha the short time that I have been here they have given me no peace," he said, after u minute. "That is in the opposite direction from Alton, you know -or perhaps you don't know. I take the down-train which pasaes.--whieh has lately passed-Wexford at 9.40, and meets the Alton train at the station below." "Yes," said Norah. He puzzled her more and more. This information about trains seemed given with a purpose, and yet what could it be? "If your train passes Wenford at 9.40, and you mean to leave to-night, you will have to go very soon, then, will you not?" she asked, more for want of any thing else to say than because she had any dispo- aition to hasten his departure. "Yes, I shall have to go very soon-at once, indeed,'? he said, looking at her quick- ly, with a suspicious, sidelong glance. But, despite this fact, 'he stood beside her for a minute longer. Something seemed to rise to his lips; he hesitated an instant, then did not utter it. Steps were heard appro~tch. ing-voices sounded at the open window. He turned away-.'~then suddenly Itumed bwck and grasped her wrIst. "X don't think you will ever know wI~at yen havethrowu away hi throwing away rite," he said.~.this is soaietliing) by-the-by, whThh a grant many men think, Though most uf them refrain from uttering it t.-..." I would have done any thing to serve you, any thing on God's earths I would have hesitated at aotkiuy, Norah I lint you have showed me that you prefer falsehood, and 'treachery, and deceit, to an honest man's honest love, and I -'what cani do? But if even yet-.-e'vea yet, Norab-." 4'Iiet go my arm!" said Nor ,-4fl purl- ously, and in the moonlight he saw the haughty lightning that ~aahed from her eyes. "I have heard enough. I hope that change of air will restore your senses to 'you; but at present you have certainly lost them alto- gether!" "When it is too Into, remember that it is your own Dtult-~.that I gave you one last op- portunity!" he said, dropping her arm. And even in the midst of her anger, his tone startled her again. It. was so s'ignifi- cant-it so plainly meant something more than met the ear. Had he really gone crazy? What was he talking about? This was what Notah asked herself', puzzled, bewildered, in- dignant, all at once. While she ttillstood hesitati~g.-uncertain whether or not to demand an explanation.--. Mr. Middleton stepped through the open win~ dow behind them, and her opportunity was lost. "What t--.are you here yet, Carl?" he said, in a tone of surprise. "I told your aunt a minute ago that I thought you 'were gone. She doesn't like it at all, I can tell you-leaving a party in the lurch this way~-.' so perhaps, as you are Still here, you had beta ter put off your departure till to - morrow morning." "No," said Carl, in a quick, obstinate voice, "I shall go to-night. I am sorry if Aunt Mildred does not like it-.--but I must go." "You know your own affairs best, of course,' said his uncle, coldly; "but I think you are likely to miss the trahi If you stay here ranch langar." "It Is not quite nine o'clock," said t~arl~ glancing at his watch.. "I can certainly drir. to Wexford in forty minutes." page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] 148 A DAUGItTER OF BOHEMIA. The game of croquet was by this time be- ing organized on the lawn. The hoops were er~eted, and the opposing parties had mar- shalled themselves. Some one caine up to No- rah. Would she play? At first she declined, but, on second thought, consented. The te- dious hours had to be got through in some fashion - perhaps croquet was as good a means as any other. So she walked away, and Carl turned into the house. He had his dinner-dress to change, he muttered, for a traveling-suit. At nine punctually he took his departure. Norah, who was standing, mallet in hand, on the farther side of the croquet-ground, heard a rattle of wheels, and, looking across the lawn, saw the light dog-cart spinning around the drive and out of the gate. "Who is that?" asked her companion, surprised. "Surely, nobody is leaving at this hour of the evening!" "I think it is Mr. Middleton-Mr. Carl Middleton," she answered, stooping to give her ball a very unscientific blow. "He said that he had to go away to-night-to see some friends, I think." "Carl's a queer fellow? isn't he?" said I the other-the same free-and-easy young gen- tleman who had called her "Miss Norab." "We've seen nothing of him in this part of the country since he was grown; but every- body always expected that he would marry Miss Leslie, and there was great astonish- ment on all hands when we heard that she was engaged to Arthur Tyndale. Not but that it's a capital match, you know, but still it was always understood that she was te marry Carl, and so we were astonished." "Was it understood that she was to mar- ry Carl?" asked Norab, starting. "Such things seldom come to pass as parents and guardians wish them to do," she said. Meanwhile Leslie was moving among her guests with a very sore and troubled heart. She had been almost, if not quite, ready to forget all her doubts and suspicions when Tyndide had appeared before dinner- the first sight of his fair, handsome fa~e, the first tone of his voice, had made her heart leap up with a loving, grateful sense that all must be well, that in him, at least, could be no decep- tion nor wrong; but afterward she could not banish the sense that some change had come over him. He was not himself. There was something wrong with him. She felt that in- stinctively. In her society he was constrained -she felt Ikat with a pang which only those who have ever seen this subtle but most im- passable barrier coming between themselves and those they love can imagine. After din)~ ncr she was dully, sorely conscious that he was avoiding her. He sat down by Mrs. Sandford, and began what looked very much like one of the old-time flirtations. *But Lea- lie had never been jealous of the old-time flirtations. Now she was not exactly jealous, but her heart burned within her; the scene of the night before came back again. "Any- body but me!" she thought, "anybody but me!" Once, when he spoke to her, she fan- cied-for she was not blind, as many women are-that there was the glow of champagne on his cheeks, the light of champagne in his eyes. Then her heart grew sorer still. He had never forgotten himself like this be- fore. What did it mean? Mrs. Sauzlford was not playing croquet. That might readily have been predicted from her toilet. In the drawing-room, and, after a while, on the moon-lighted veranda, she sat with a court round her, like the Madame Ia Marquise to whom Max had likened her. She had indulged in more than one innuendo to Arthur T5?ndale, but her courage had not been equal to touching openly the subject of his "flirtation" (so she would mildly have phrased it), with Norah 'Desmond. Opportunity had not been lacking; but she had found it pleas- anter to flirt with him herself, to bend her elaborately coiffed head toward him, to shrug her white shoulders, to open wide her blue eyes, to ripple over with exclamations and adjectives. As for Arthur,~ it was the easiest thing at hand to do-it certainly required no effort either of mind or body-and, remem- bering what Norah had told him, he had an idea that he might win this pretty widow, his "old friend," over to his side again. When others claimed his attention, how- ever, he rose and strolled away. A spirit of restlessness possessed him. He looked inte the drawing-room. Whist and conversation reigned there. He shrank equally from both, so he wended his way across the lawn to the croquet-party. Even that was better: he might see Leslie, plead a headache, and take leave at once. On reaching th~ players, he found that Leslie was not to be seen. She had been looking on for a while; but she had walked I THE LOST I away with a stranger who admired the grounds, and wanted to see more of them. This was what somebody told Arthur. He felt vexed and impatient-just then every thing vexed this unreasonable young man. "Why was she out of the way?" he thought. Standing there in the moonlight, a sudden feeling of isolation came over him; the elink of the balls, the merry peals of laughter, the fragments of speech, jarred upon and irritated him. He felt none of the spell of the dreamy, lustrous night-a sublimated day, it seemed -none of the poetry, which youth and happi- ness always create, in the scene. "Your play, Miss Desmond!" somebody called out. Then he started and frowned. Norah's name was worst of all! At that moment he made up his mind to take French leave of the party, and return to Straffdrd. With regard to Leslie, he felt reckless. He had already neglected her so much, that a little more neglect scarcely mat- tered. He had half turned away, when a young man, who was standing not far off, with a girl, called out: "Tyndale, can you lend me a pencil?" "I suppose so," answered Tyndale, invol- untarily. He did not feel in a particularly obliging mood; but, when we are asked to I ad a thing which we kndw to be reposing in pocket, the impulse is with most of us tl~at we do it. He took out a pocket-book, and, drawing a pencil fror~i it, handed it to the other. "What do you want to do with it?" he asked, carelessly. "I want to write off a capital acrostic for Miss Minnie," the young man answered. "If you'll wait a minute "Oh, the pencil is of no importance," said Tyndale, walking away. He felt a momentary envy for people who could be amused by "capital acrostics," and yet a certain con- tempt, also. "Vapid fools!" he called them, in his own mind, as he closed the pocket- book, and returned it to his pocket. Returned it! That is to say, he tkougkt that he returned it; but the chaippagne must have been in his fingers, as well as in his head, for certainly the book slipped, in some unaccountable way, past the pocket, or out of the pocket, and thence down to the ground, where he, unconsciously, walked away and left it. * There it still lay, a dark object on the moonlit sward, when Mrs. Sandford came 'OCKET-BOOK. 149 across the lawn to look at the game, attended by a brace of cavaliers, with her silken train thrown over her white arm. One of the cava- liers in question struck his foot against this object, and, stooping down, picked it up. "By George!" he said. "Some fellow has lost a pocket-book, and left all his secrets of love and war at the mercy of the public. Who was it, I wonder ?-Armistead, have you lost any thing of the kind?" "Not I," answered the other cavalier. "But it will not be difficult to find the owner. -I say, Cour~enaye" (turning round to ad- dress the writer of the acrostic), "have you lost a pocket-book?" "No," answered Courtenayc; "but Tyn- dale has, very likely. At least he took out his, to lend me a pencil, about ten minutes ago." "Tyndale!"repeated Mrs. Sandford, quick- ly She extended her hand, and seized the pocket-book, before its astonished finder knew what she meant to do. "We can easily set- tIe that point!" she said, opening it. Mr. Courten~ye was right. On the fly-leaf, Arthur Tyndale's name was written. "It is his!" said Mre. Sandford, with a thrill, as of exultation, in her voice. Then, somewhat to the surprise of the lookers-on, she coolly slipped the book into 1~er pocket. "I'll give it back to him, with a lecture on his careless- ness!" she said, with a laugh. Almost at the same moment that this scene was occurring on the lawn, Max met Leslie as she was emerging from the house. "Do you know where Arthur is?" he asked, stopping her. "I want to speak to him a moment." "No," she answered-and, as she turned her face toward him, he saw the look of pain in her eyes-" I have not seen Arthur since -scarcely since dinner." "Indeed!" said Max. He had seen noth- ing of Arthur himself; had known nothing of the mannerin which he was avoiding Les- lie, and he was naturally astonished by this information. Anger-quick, hot, overmaster- ing-rushed into his heart and into his eyes. It coat him a minute's effort before he could control its expression for the sake of the pa- thetic face before him. "He must have gone home," he said, then, with as much careless- ness as he could aSsume. "I don't think he has been exactly-very well to-day." "Has he not?" asked Leslie. Her eyes page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] \jy$ 150~ A DAUGliITER OF BOIJEMIA. wete wistful, yet proud. "He said noth. leg. to. me of beis.g' sick. I do ztQt hu.ow whe~s heI~" she addedi hasti~~ed turned ay~ss if au~iQu8, tO: ~d ~he qonvqrsatien; as if f~srfti~ leuAi~ we4 Q~ 81g14 5~4O might betta~ hersulf~' Ma~ ~t~o& still fo~ a moment,, coramimug with himneelfi au.d. his muMaqbe~ Then h~ descended the steps a~ ~isJl~ed across the lawn to the croqettegslonxsl~ He felt that. this: tIer cOn~ld:n~ot ha ended too soon,, and, ~$ a. ateptowarti eiirb~t~ it,~ he must see ~{o- mali Desmond. He found her,, by aluoky ance,, at some distance from the croquet-ground,. sitting in a. garden-chair,, alone~ Some one else had taken her place in the game;.she told him;, she, was tired, and had been ,ebli~ed IQ re- tire. "I fancy Mr. Covington was glad tQ be mid, of we," she added. "I tins wretched player." "I am afraid this has. keen a trying duy to you,," be said. "Yes,, it has been. very trying-mnore trying than you knew,"' she answered. .~ "And I am going to niakeit stilt mere so ....-that, is, I am. going to show you. that' you. are not done with worry even yet)' Then,. after a short pause, which she did not break~ "I told you. at dinner that Arthur' bed left Strafford bcfor~ I. reached it this s.ftcrnQon., Therefore I was not. able to deliver ycui' mes- se.ge-..-or, rather, your answer to his demand. If you are still determined to surrender th~ letters, however, I will see hire now-he. has probably returned to Strafford.-aud, try to end the matter at once." "I am still determined to surrender them," she answered, '~ou a eondition-~-do not forget that. I demand the letteV ef~ which we spoke, not only because t want it,, but as a proof of his good faitin"' "If he refuses todelivem it-?" "I decline ab8ohttely to deliver the more important ones which I hold)'! "And if he gives' it up~?" "Then come back and I will give you. his letters." "To-night?" asked he, surprised.. 'A Why not tonightt" asked abs, in turn .~.mther wearilyb "I am so tired.-...you can't tell how tired-.-ef all this deception a~nd'plot, ting~ I can see you alone t4~nigbt~ lmanwhat you have to say, and, if necessary, give you. the letters, without exciting half so mu4h oh- servation and remark as I should do if we waited until tQ.morrow. It will not take yQu long to go to Straffosd, will it?" "Not very long." "Then-if you do not mind coming back -4et, us get it ever to-night. A strange ha- patience ban come over me. I feel as if it couid nQt be. ended tQQ ~ These people will not 5Q 1'Afl? an hArnr or twq yet-more's the pity I-and I can easily meet, you in the "There is but one. objection tQ ths.t~' he began. Then be. stopped. lie bad been s.bop.t to invoke the powerful shade of Mrs. (~Irundy, to hint that, ill-natured people. might say ill-natured things of su~h a meeting; but he felt instinctively that such a thought had never entered Norab's mind,. and. that her Bo- hemian indifference might be quite equal. to dealing even Mrs. Gru.ndy. After all, lone- cenee is it~ own best safeguard.. The preu4,, beautiful. face. before bias seemed able t.~ make ~ law of conduct untQ itself ~ and then, as she said,. it would be better to have it ended. CIIAI'TER XXVI 'b No t I this conflict longer will not wage, The conflict Duty claims-the giant task- Thy spells, 0 VIrtue, never can assuage The heart's wildfire-this oflTeringdo not ask?" IlAum an. liQur latet, Max Tyndale mounted' the terrace-steps at Strafford, and found him. self facing a stream of light. which issued from one of the. flower-wreathed windows of the dining-room. Wondering what, Arthur was doing in that particular room at that beur, he' walked wp to the window and looked in. A glance at the open sideboard, and one or tw~ decanters on the table, showed him at once what Arthur was. doii~g, and made him shrug his shoulders as he entered-stooping his tall head t little in order to do so. Hear- ing the step, Arthur turned-bc bad been sitting in a deep chair, with his back to the window-and,, seeing Max, be frowned imps- tiOntly. "Why the deuce cant you. come in. bythe door, and not startle one like this?" he said,. pettishly. "'Yen. are back early!" "Not so early as yourself," answered Max,. advancing and taking a scat on the other shie of the table. He. meant t.o keep his temper, if possible, let Arthur be as trying as he would, but already it felt inclined to give way. "I-oh, I could not stand it any longer I" said the latter, in an aggrieved tone. "It is too much to ask of a man to endure such a mob of stupid people for three or four hours on a stretch." "Some of the people were not stupid, how- ever," said Max. "There was Miss Grahame, for instance. I met her just before I left, and she seemed to feel your neglect. I should advise you to be a little more careful. She is not a woman to endure that kind of thing tamely." "It makes very little difference to me whether she is or not," said Arthur, dogged- ly.' "I am sick of the whole business, and I don't intend to put any further compulsion on myself! D-n it, Max, it isn't you who have had to'play the part of a shuttlecock between these two women!" "It is not I, certainly," said Max, gravely. lie looked at the other with his keen, dark. eyes, understanding perfectly the crimson flush on his cheeks, the bright glitter in his eyes. He saw that he had been drinking deeply, and he hesitated, asking himself it' there was any use in broaching the subject of the letters to him that night. But, like No- rab, he began to feel an impatience of the matter, a conviction that the sooner it was ended the better. Arthur might be sober enough to recognize his own interests, at least. On that hypothesis, he spoke: "I wanted to see you this afternoon," he said, "but you had left before I returned. If you had waited for me, you might have been glad to hear that Miss Desmond agrees to re- turn your letter's." "Does she?" said Arthur, starting. Deep- er color came into his cheeks, brighter light flashed into his, eyes. He had not expected such good news. It would be something, cer- tainly~-it would be a great deal, indeed-to be safely out of Norali Desmond's power. The next moment, however, he looked at his cousin suspiciously. '~ "Miss Elesmond is too shrewd a woman to surrender those letters without expecting something in return," he said. "What is it?" "What any woman in her posit&cir has a right~ to expect and to 'demand," answered Max, growing stern in spil&or lihiis~.li~.: ~'*Ier own letters." MISS DESMOI4D 'A 'S PROPOSITION. 151 "I told you that I bad not one of them-.. that I never dreamed of keeping them." "I told her that;. and, if you assert the fact on your honor, she is willing to accept it,"~said Max, not without a grim sense of the satire involved in his words. "But "-and he leaned forward here to note the effect of what he had to say-" she is not sure, and neither am I, that you have not a letter of hers w1~ic1a was not addressed to you, in your possession.~~ "What the devil do you mean ~" asked Arthur, angrily. He knew perfectly well what the other meant, but this question is every one's first expedient to gain time. "I fancy that you. know very well what I mean," answered Max, quietly. "I'~niean that I think you. have in your possession a letter of Miss Desmond's addressed to her sister, which you found on my table, among various other papers, the night-Thursday night- that you were in my room alone." "In your room alone!" repeated Arthur, wrathfully. "I never heard such insolence! Do you mean to insinuate that I have stolen your letter, or Miss Desmond's letter, or whoever letter it chanced to be?" "I have already told you that it was a let- ter addressed to Miss Desmond's sister, mid written by Miss Desmond herself~," answered Max. "I insinuate nothing; I merely ask if it is not in your possession." "And I reply emphatically that such a question is an insult, and that I decline to answer it." "Then, in that ease, I am en~poWered by Miss Desmond to say that she declines to sur- render your letters." "Declines to surrender my letters because I do not choose to acknowledge the posses- sion of any stray fragment of writing which you may have lost ?-Is Miss Desmond mad, or are you mad, that you bring mc such a message?" "We are neither of us mad, I hope; but the matter stands thus: I am confident, from the circumstances of the case, that this letter must have fallen into your hands, and Miss Desmond (whose property it is) demands Its return as a proof of good faith on your pert. She demands, also, that you pledge your word of honor to keep your engagement with her sister unbroken, and-" "And what' else? '~ asked Arthur, break- ing in suddenly with a derisive langh "Pray, page: 152 (Illustration) [View Page 152 (Illustration) ] 152 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. what power does Miss Desmond imagine that she possesses over my actions, that she can lay down arbitrary conditions after such fash- ion as this?" "She does not imagine that she possesses any power,'but she clainis a right to name the conditions upon which she will surrender the letters you are anxious to obtain." "Not so anxious as you imagine, perhaps," said the other, sneeringly. "I fancy I am safe enough from any use she may be tempted to make of those letters. No woman, with the instincts of a lady- and those, at least, Norah Desmond has-ever likes to proclaim herself jilted." "And how does a man, who ought to have the instincts of a gentleman, like to be branded with dishonor?" asked Max, shortly. A fire, not common to his eyes, gathered in them. The last shreds of his well-worn patience be. gan ti~ give way. "Let us make an end of this," he said, rising to his feet. "Once for all, will you accept ~the offer which Miss Des. mond makes, or will you force upon her the alternative of going to Miss Grahame with these letters in her hand?" "She may go to Miss Grahame or to the devil!" answered Arthur, with a defiance born of champagne and French brandy. "If I choose to make an efl~ort' to hold my own with Leslie, I do not anticipate any difficulty in doing so because a woman like Norab Des. mond brings forward some relics of an old folly. Her character, wherever she is known abroad, is so notorious, that her word will pass for very little when I once make Leslie clearly understand that she is, a mere Bohe. mian adventuress, a mere-" "Stop " said Max. ~n sudden, fiery in. tensity, the word was almost equivalent to a bloW. "I have heard enough of this. You are not defending yourself by slandering Miss Desmond-you are only proving how right I was when~,I told her that it was worse than folly to surrender the letters which prove the utter falsehood of every word you have ut. tered, or are likely to utter, concerning her!" "They may prove it to you," paid thur. "No doubt you have had ample 'opportunity for judging. But'you are right-this has gone fhr enough!" said he, springing suddenly to his feet, and speaking in a voice which was full of passion. "Even now, if you were not standing as a guest under my own roof-" "I shall not be a guest under your roof much longer," interrupted the other. "I ac. cept no obligation-least of all that of hos- pitality-from a man' whom I have ceased to hold in any respect, who has forfeited every characteristic of a man of honor!" "You will answer for this!" said Arthur, through his clinched teeth. "Answer for it ! - what is there to an. swer?" returned Max, contcnptuously. "Is it not true? Have you not been tried in the balance and found wanting in every instinct of honor, every regard for truth? God knows," said lie, with a sudden, passionate vehemence, "I trusted in yQu, believed in you, hoped in you, to the last! But after to. day I should be a fool indeed if I put further faith in you. ThereforO j go now to tell Miss Desmond the failure of my mission, and at daylight I shall leave your house." He moved toward the door as lie spoke, but Arthur made one stride and stood before him - a flame of coloi~ in his fair cheeks, a gleam of menacing light in his 'dolet eyes. "You are altogether wrong if you think you can insult inc like this, even in my own house,' with impunity!" he said. "You shall not leave this room until you have passed your word to give me the satisfaction of a gentleman." "I should as soon think of ghing satis. faction to my own brother - which, thank God! you are not!" was the response. "I have only spoken truths which your own con- science must echo, and I have spoken them because our intimate friendship and near kin- ship gave me a right to do so. It is a iight which I shall not claim again, however. I repeat that, after to-night, I am done with I you-done with you and your affairs utterly and forever! Now stand aside and let .me pass. This is child's play." "We'll make it something else, then!" said Arthur, between his set teeth. He took a 'step forward as he spoke - his purpose plainly to be read in his gleaming eyes, his knitted brows, and tight.set lips-but, though he was quick and lithe as a panther, the man who iuet him was like a rock. He extended his hand, seized the assailant by. the collar, and swung him out of his path, just as the door opened, and the face of a servant-first grave: and decorous as usual, then stricken with amazement-looked in. "I beg pardon, sir," he said, falling back a step or two as Max strode toward the door. 152 A A ~.1 'I 1f I N -l U page: -153[View Page -153] ARTHUR INSULTED. 163 It is likely that he feared summary ejection; at all events, he retreated crab-fashion into the hail, as ~the young man advanced upon him. "What brought you here i"' demanded Captain Tyndale, sharply-pausing at last in the middle of the ball-" An ignorant servant might be excused, but you know better-you know that you have no business to enter a room unless you have been summoned." "I-I beg pardon, sir," repeated the man again-he was a well-trained English servant, whom Arthur had brought with him from abroad, and therefore, as Max said, could not plead ignorance for his shortcomings-" but I saw a light in the dining-room, and, not knowing that either of you gentlemen had come back, I thought I would just come and -and see what it was about." "You might have known that your master or myself must be there," said Max, unmolli- fled. "You ought to be aware that this kind of thing will not answer. A servant must learn to come only when he is bidden, and" (with emphasis) "to hold his tongue." "I think I know how to hold mine, sir," said the man, respectfully. "It will be well for you if you do!" said Captain Tyndale, significantly. Then he turned away and walked toward the hall-door, which stood open to the dreamy beauty of the magi- cal moonlight. Before he reached it, how- ever, a thought seemed to strike him - he wheeled round again, and addressed the ser- vant, who was still lingering where he had been left. "Do you know what time the earliest train passes Wexford to-morrow morning for Alton "' he asked. "About half-past six, sir, I think," was the answer. "Tell Anderson, then, to have something at the door for me and my luggage about half-past five. I find that I am obliged to go up to the city." - "Very well, sir." "Half-past five, mind! I don't want to be leCt."~ "I'll take care of that, sir." After Max passed out, the speaker shook his head solemnly. "There's been no end of a row 1" he said, half aloud. "It's no more than I ex- pected all the time. I never yet seen two gentlemen thicker than brothers but what L says to myself-" "Giles!" cried an irritable voice in the rear. "Giles, don't you hear? Why the devil don't you keep your ears about you, and come when you're called?" "I didn't know you had called before, sir," said Giles, turning round and facing his master, who was standing in the open dining-room door. Even to the servant it was plain, at a glance, how deeply he had been drinking, and it flashed through his mind fhat the "row" might not be so very serious after all. "You were too busy taking Captain Tyn. dale's orders to listen to me, I suppose," said Arthur, more angrily than before. "But I want you to understand that it is I who am master in this house, and not Captain Tyn. dale." "I know that, sir," said Giles. "What was he telling you to do ?-what was that order I heard him giving you?" "He told me to tell Anderson to have something at the door for him and his lug. gage at half-past five to-morrow morning; he wants to leave on the half-past six o'clock "He does, does he?" said Arthur, chang- ing color violently. "We'll see about that." "I'm not to tell Anderson, then, sir?" "D-n Anderson, and you too! Leave the house, this instant! and the next time you come where you are not called and not wanted, you'll leave it for good I" "Very well, sir," said Giles, sullenly. He felt strongly inclined to say, "I'll leave it now for good," but the thought of Ar. thur's usual kind, treatment, the light ser- vice, excellent wages, and more excellent per- quisites of his place, restrained thuis spirit of noble independence. He left the hall by the back-door, and, once out on the moonlit sward, relieved his mind by the use of vari- ous expletives of a forcible nature. Arthur, meanwhile, turned back into the dining - room, poured out half a glass of brandy, and drank it off. "We'll see about th~t!" he repeated, as he set the glass down with a ringing sound. A wild light scelned instantly to flame into his eyes. It was evi- dent that th'e brandy mounted to his brain like lightning. "If he thinks that he can treat me like this, insult me to my face, and then refuse me satisfaction, I will show him that he is mistaken!" he said, nodding with a truculent, drunkeil air to. the tall, flaring 153 page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. ~andlcs and the half-empty decanters. "No- rah must understand that I'll have no more of this," he continued, after a minute. "I'll see her myself and, if she insists, she can have the letter, but I'll have no more carry- ing of messages back and forth by a coward- ly bully who takes advantage of his position to offer insults, and then refuses to stand by the consequences of them 1-Going off to- morrow morning) is he ?-We'll see about that!" It was probably as a means of seeing about it that he went into the library, and, opening a drawer, took out a silver-mounted pistol-one of the small revolvers in such common and deadly use at present - and, having ascertained that it was loaded, slipped it into the breast-pocket of his coat. Thus equipped, with a fiery flush on his cheeks, and a fiery light in his eyes, he seized the first convenient hat which came to hand, stepped out into the moonlight, and, leaving the house all open, the library and dining- room all ablaze with light, behind him, took his way across the park, following the path which Max had followed fifteen or twenty minutes before: CHAPTER XXVI. "We two stood there with never a third, But each by each, as each knew well, The sights we saw and thesounds we heard, The lights and shades made up a spell Till the trouble grew and stirred. "Oh, the little more, and how much It Is! And the little les~. and. what worlds away I how a sound shall quicken content to bliss, Or a breath suspend the blood's best play, And lIfe be a proof of this I" Wnzx Oaptain Tyndale reached the bridge spanning the stream which divided the Straf- ford lands from the Rosland grounds, he hesi- tated a nioment, doubtful whether to turn aside to the sumxner.house, which was situ. ated at some. distance on his right, orto keep straight on to the villa. He was back sooner than he had aaticipated.-considerably In ad- vance, indeed, .of the time he had named to Norab Tht meeting him--and it was likely, therefore, that she had not 'yet come to the place of rendezvous. Therewere somt un- qaeatienablo advantages to he gained by see- iug her an the lawn or in the dra~whxg-rooxn -.~tha advantage, above all, of avoiding an interview which would excite much o~ ill- natured comment if it were suspected or din. covered, and from this comment Max, who knew his world better than Norah did, was anxious to shield her; but then there was the great disadvantage of not being able to speak freely, of not being secure from interruption or distraction. Besides this, if he went to the house and she were not there, it would excite a great deal of attention-in fact, be very "marked," if he left again abruptly in evident search of her. Again, he might not be able to leave abruptly. Max was an old 'bird, who had been caught too often in so- ciety nets, not to be wary of them. He could imagine himself held captive while Mrs. Sand. ford or some other woman talked nonsense to him, and Norab waited alone in the sum- mer.house. Lastly- "View mortal man, none ever will you find, if the gods force him, that can shun his fate;" and Captain Tyndale being emphatically a mortal man, felt very little inclination to shun an interview alone with Korah..-his lust, just then it occurred to him-which the gods seemed determined to force upon him. After meditating duly upon all these con- siderations, he decided to go to the summer- house and wait for her. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter-past eleven. He had told her that he would probably be there at half-past that hour. Again he hesitated. Should he go to the villa? There was still time enough, and a dozen words would be sufficient to tell her the result of his mission. But, then, it must be confessed that he felt strongly inclined for more than a dozen words. She was not in his style at all, and, after to- night, he would probably never see her again -but that was all the more reason for giving. his last looks time to linger on such a beauti- ful face, for letting his ears drink in again the sound of a voice sweet ~as that of the sirens. He turned with an air of decision, put his watch back into bin pocket, and en- tered the shrubbery to the right. Is it worth while to say that, if he had decided differcutly-'4f he had gene to seek Norah in thepresenceof thelarge and respect- able social gathering at Rosland-4he after- events~ which followed would have been very difThvent? Of what actioxi of our life might net this old but ever- new con~monplace be predicated? Yet the consequences whieb follow most actions arc, as a general rule, U A PUNCTUAL MEETiNG. less immediate and less unpleasant than those which followed this apparently trivial deci- sion of Max's-a decision born of the magic of a woman's fair face, as xnauy a man's de- cision has been before. When he reached the summer.housc, he found, as he had expected, that Norah had not yet arrived. This fact did not trouble him very much, however; she had not said, "I will come if possible," but she had said, "I will come!,' and instinct told him that what Norab Desmond premised would as- suredly be performed. Lighting a cigar, therefore, he sat down on the steps to wait for her. The balmy, voluptuous night was all around Ixim like a spell. In its white lustre every object stood out clear and distinct. The distant hills melted away in silvery mist; the woods, in their dark, shadowy beauty, stretched as far as the eye could reach. On the smooth sward around the summer-house, flecked delicately with leafy shadows, every dainty fay and sprite of the greenwood might have danced. A chorus of katydids sounded from the large oaks behind him. From the depths of the shrubbery in front rose sudden- ly the sweet, melodious voice of a tnocking- bird. Save these sounds, every thing was so still that the voice of the stream was distinct- ly audible, as it flowed along it~ hollow, sing- ing to itself iii the silent night. After a while he looked at his watch again. It was thirty minutes past eleven. "She will be here before long now t" he said to himself, and, as he said it, a white figure emerged from the shrubbery in the direction cC the house and advanced toward him. He threw away his cigar, and, rose as she approached, conscious of a strange sensation of pleasure which he did not stop to analyze, lint which was quite apart from the "busi- ness" end that he had in view. "1 am so exactly on time," she said; as she came up, "that I thought it likely I should have to wait for you." "Qa the contrary, I have been Waititig ftn~ yOU for a quarter of an hour." "Is i6 possible? But that was your own fault, Punctuality does not mean being be- fore one's time any more than after one's. time, it means being on it~~4a~ tam." "I did not mean to claim the vittue of punetuality~-..thaa certainly belongs to you; I only meant I was glad anynecessary share of waiting should have fallen to my lot in-. stead or to yours. This would be an uncanny place, as the Scotch say, in which to be eJone at midnight!" "Why? because it is lonely? I should not be afraid of that. Mem are not likely to oome here, I suppose, unless by appointment; and, if the ghost of a Dutchman appeared, I should make the sign of the cross, and ex- pect to see him vanish in blue smoke." " There might be more unpleasant visitors than the ghost of a Dutchman. But will you come into the summer-house, or shall we "Here, by all means. One cannot have too much of such a night as this." "It is beautiful, certainly," said Max, but he was not thinking of the night as he spoke. He was thinking rather of the woman who, gain as the night, sat. down on the steps frorki which hehad risen, and looked up at him with a smile. "Does it not make you think of Loreuzo and Jessica? '~ she asked; and, before he could answer, she began to repeat: "'The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make anolse,-ln such a night Troilus, nmthinka, mounted th~ Trojan walls, And sighed his soul toward the Grecian teats, Where Cressld lay that night. insnclranlgbt Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrlp the dew And saw the lIon's shadow crc himself, And ran dismayed away'-.. as I might have done, perhaps," s~e added, with a laugh, "if I had not been very stout of heart, when I sa~i' you sitting here-a dark, motionless figure in the moonlight- with year cigar glowing likean angry eye." "1 scarcely fancied you would have seen it in such a lustrousatmosphere as this. But i(Ilooked like t Cyclops~ you certainly looked like the incarnate spirit of the moon- light as you came across the sward." "I ant not ethereal enough to look like an incarnate spirit of any thing'," said she, glancing up again, the n~eonIight shining on th(i match1e~s lines of her fkee,. the tran- scendent faIrness of her skin, the liqtxid ,soft~ ness of her eyes --..-Max had never thought them soft befoze-.tbe beautiful curve of her white throat, as the flower-like head was threwxi baeh. A floecir shawl was dza~ed around her shouldeni, but its effect only page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 A DAUGhTER heightened her loveliness. The young man caught his breath, Impassive though he was, he felt his pulses thrilling and his brain whirling a little. Not a woman in his style, not a woman whom he admired, but still a woman whose equal in abstract beauty he could scarcely hope* ever to see again - a woman at whose feet a man might almost~ have been pardoned for falling down in abso- lute worship as she sat there with the silver night about her like a benediction, and all Nature wrapped in stillness. "What fools some men would make of themselves if they were in my position!" Max thought, with an agre~abIe sense of superior wisdom, which he immediately justified by plunging into the business that had brought them there. After all, what was Norah Desmond's beauty to him? A. soldier with little or nothing be- sides his pay could not ttfford to fall in love with the penniless daughter of a Bohemian adventurer, if she were a second Helen. "I have just come from Arthur," he said, abruptly. "I am sorry to say-sorry, at least, on your account, that he refuses absolutely to accede to your demand about the letters." "Indeed!" said she, starting-an expres- skin like a wave of surprise sweeping over her face. "Does he deny, then, that he has theletter which I wish returned?" "No; he professes himself insulted by the charge, and will neither deny nor acknowledge any thing concerning ik" "Do you not think that is equivalent to owning that he has the letter?" "I do not 'think' so; I am sure of it." "And equivalent, alsQ, to refusing it?" "Equivalent to that, also." "I did not expect this in the least," said she, after a minute's pause. "I thought he would have been more than willing to buy his letters back at such a price. What is the meaning of it, Captain Tyndale? He must be anxious to obtain them, while that letter has no value to him It tells him nothing which he did not know before, or which he could by any possibility desire to use." "I must confess," said Max, reluctantly, "that he was not at all sober, which may have had something to do with his foolish obstinacy. But you must forgive me if I say it is a good thing, Miss Desmond. More clearly than before-if that be possible-do I realize how very unwise it would be to sur- OF BOHEMIAN. CAPTAIN'S RESOLUTION. render those letters. For no reason," said 'he, energetically, "have you a right to throw your good name away. Now, you will throw it away, if you once put those letters out of your possession. Believe me, I mean what I say. Arthur Tyndale is not a man to he trusted. Even you do not know how far he has gone in dishonor-how little he would hesitate over any falsity!" "Has he been uttering any fresh slander about me?" demanded she, with eyes that began to glow, and lips apart. "If so, don't hesitate-tell me at once what it was." "He only insinuates slander at present," answered Max, dryly. "He will wait to do more until he has the letters safely in his hands." "But he cannot be anxious to obtain them, since he does not even think them worth a blurred fragment like my letter to Kate." "I have told you that he was not sober; I may add that he worked himself into a violent rage, which ended in his demanding 'satisfaction~ of me, and refusing absolutely to entertain any of your proposals." "How little I expected this!" she re- peated. "I was so sure you would have been successful, that I brought the letters with me. See I "-she drew a package from her pocket and held it in the palm of one hand, looking meditatively at it-" Here they are- so many ounces of passionate devotion, love, trust, faith, etcetera! Is it any wonder I am willing to dispose of them-that is the mer- cantile phrase, isn't it ?-to the original own- er, very cheaply indeed?" "I can imagine that they arc valueless to you; but, nevertheless, you should keep them." "What will you wager, that, when be is sober, he will be willing to give all that I ask, and more besides, to obtain them?" "Very likely; but nothing should induce you to accept any thing which he offers. He will respect no pledge an hour longer than he cares to do so. Remember, that is my last caution to you." She looked up with an inquisitive glance. "What do you mean by that? Why should it be your 'last?"' "Because I am going away to-morrow morning," he answered-not unwilling, per- haps, to note the effect of such a sudden an- nouncement on her. The effect-as much, at least, as he saw of it-was only astonishment, mingled some- what with regret. "You are going away!" she repeated, after a short pause. "And to-morrow morn- ing! How sudden! Will you think that I speak only from interested motives if I say that I am sorry? I really am." "You nrc very kind!" he muttered-dis- appointed byher self-possession, though he had not the faintest reason for expecting any thing else. "I think it is you who have been kind," she said, after another pause - "you who have taken so much trouble and annoyance upon yourself without any hope of reward; and now-" "How do you know that it was without hope of reward?" he said as she broke off abruptly-only hcr eyes supplying the words unsaid-" how do you know that I have not been rewarded already? To be honored by your confidence and your presence would re- pay much more than I have done." "Do you think so?" asked she, laughing -but the laugh, instead of being the little tinkle of gratified vanity which Max knew so well, had a bitter, jarring sound in it. "You surely 'do not know how easily such honor can be obtained-in Bohemia, Captain Tyn- dale." "Why are you so un.fusc to yourself?" said he, angrily. "You know better than that! You know that neither in Bohemia nor out of it is such honor easily obtained from a woman as proud as you are, Miss Des- mond." "And pray," demanded she-flushing so suddenly and deeply that he saw the suffusion even in the white moonlight-" what right have you to suppose that I have given you more than 1 should have given any other man who crossed my path?" "Don't be angry," said he, smiling; "and don't think me presumptuous before I deserve it. I have never for a moment imagined that it was any merit of my own which has won for me the confidence you have given me -the confidence which you certainly would not give 'any man who crossed your path '- but only the singular circumstances which have thrown us together, aud made us know each other very well even in the course of one short week." "A great deal can be done, thought, felt, 157 and said, in a week," said she, half dreamily, looking, not at him, but at the melting line of moonlit hills far away. "But, when you speak of knowing me," she added, with an- other low, bitter laugh, "you are talking ab- solute nonsense. I have a hundred charac- ters: you have seen only one." "But in that one lies the key to all the rest," said he. She shook her head, half sadly. "I am not a book, to be read at sight," she said. "Sometimes I think that I am writ- ten in cipher, even to myself." "You are a book, to make and to repay the study of a man's life!" said Max. He knew that he was a fool when he uttered the words; but, just then, his senses were be- witched. That fair face, with the moonlight shining on it, might have made wild havoc with any man's senses. But Norah only smiled: she was too well used to such speeches and such tones to give them any significance beyond the amusement of the hour. "How good of you to think so!" said she. "But my character is nothing to you," she added, with a sudden flash of impatient anger. "Why are we discussing it? I came here to speak of your cousin and Leslie. Let us talk of them." "How do you know that your character is nothing to me?" demanded Max, in turn- ignoring her last command-and with a curi- ous, vibrating thrill in his voice, born of folly, madness, moonlight, Heaven only knows what. "How can you tell but that " It is impossible for any one to tell what he might have uttered hext, if, at that mo- ment, a pistol-shot had not rung out clearly on the still night-air, making them both start and gaze at each other with amazed, interrog- ative eyes. Norah was the first to break the pause which ensued. ( "What can it mean?" she sar&-" and so Sicar at hand, too!" "I don't understand it at all," s5id Max. He thought of Arthur. But, even if Arthur had left Strafford and followed him-which he did not conceive to be at all likely-at whom could he be firing? "That shot was certainly fired within the grounds;" he said, rising to his feet. "If you will excuse me, Miss Desmond, I will soon see-" "Do you mean that you are going away' OF BOHEMIA. page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMiA. and leave me here?" said Norah, quietly- and her tone stopped him more effectually than a dozen screams could have done-"! should ~not have been afraid to be alone be- Core, but now-." "True," said he, quickly. "I forgot. While I went in one direction, the shooter, or shooters, might come in this. After all, perhaps it may be only one of the negroes, who is amusing himself' with a pistol. It cannot be a nocturnal duel, for there was only one shot, and it does not seem that there is to be another." "From what direction did it seem to you that the sound came?" asked she. He pointed in the direction of the stream and the bridge. "There?" he answered, briefly. "So I thought," she said. Then, after a short pause, she added, in a quick, nervous ~voice: "Do you think it could have been Mr. Tyndale?" "Impossible. At whom, or at what, could he have been firing?" There was silence after this for two or three miau~tes~ They both listened attentive- ly, but no other r~pox't followed-the' katy~ dids, the gra~shoppers, the crickets, and the mocking-birds, had all the night to them- selves. Then Norah laughed a little-a laugh relieved, but somewhat nervous still. "It was queer," she said; "b~$ it could not have been any thing serious, since no other shot has followed." "I suppose not," said Max; but he spoke slowly-somehow, he had an instinct that it karl been something serious,; and 'that he would have done well to have followed his. £1~st impulse, and gone to see about it; but, 'then, how could he leave Norah alone? He might not have hesitated so much on this, score if he had only known how little Norah felt any fear for herself, how entirely her whole assumption of it had been for him, in order that he might not be drawn into a trap and shot down, perhaps-she did not stop to ask herself by'whom. Night breeds fantastic fears even in the bravest heart, and braver breast than that of this Bohemian girl one seldom meets. After another minute, she spoke again: "I believe there is only one thing more to be said: since your cousin refuses my terms, I shall keep these letters; and, since you are going away, I must decide at once whether or not to show them to Leslie. What do you advise me to do? Tell me, and-perhaps----I may do it." "flow encouraging!" said he, with a smile "But, in truth, I scarcely know what to tell you-.-4 have lost all confidence in my own judgment." 'lie did not add that he had lost all interest in the subject under discus- sion. Even his Platonic devotion to Leslie bud faded away like "snow-wreath in thaw." He knew that the interruptio~i of the pistol- shot had only just come in time to save him from making ~ ~onsisznmate 'foOl of himself- and yet the temptation to do so rertsained as great as before the interruption. But it can at least be said for Max that he was a man of honor: he knew that he could not afford to 'marry Norah Desmond, even if she were will- ing to marry him; therefore he knew, also, that he had no right to utter one word of the madness which had suddenly come upon him like a flood. "You have not even confidence enough in your own judgment to advise me whether or n~t to let mattes-s take. theb~ Course, or to tell the truth to Leslie without delay?" asked she, looking at him curiously. "I cannot even tell 'you that," he an- swered, desperately ~ You must judge for yourself. I am done 'with the whole affair. I told Arthur that to-night. My diplomatic career has been little besides a succession of blunders. It is a good thing that it is draw- ing to a close." "And you are going away to - morrow morning?" "Yes, I am going away to-morrow morn- ing, at half-past siZ o'clock. This 'mCst be our good-by, therefore, and-and you must let me thank you, Miss Desmond." "Thank me !-for what?" "For having trusted me as you have done, and for having so kindly overlooked the pre- judice with which I met you first." "I knew whom to credit with that," said she. "~For the rest, you have treated me with a courtesy and respect for which I owe ~ios thanks-'---I believe I have told you that before. And now," said she, turning to him with a smile which dazzled and bewildered him both at once, "when are we to meet again?" "When?" repeated he, catching his breath shortly. "Heaven only knows. Nev~ er, perhaps!" U THE SEPARATION-. 159 "You mean, then, that if you were to see me again across the opera - house, in Paris,- you would not even bow to me?" "I mean that, if I were wise, in such a case I would go my way without recalling myself to the memory of one who will prob- ably by that time have forgotten all about me." "'It is very probable, indeed, that I shall have forgotten all about you," said she, "for I do forget people very soon; but still, you know, you could recall yourself to my mem- ory, and we could shake' hands, say 'How- d'ye~do?' and think of-to-night." "Perhaps the best thing for me to do will be to try and forget to-night," said he, slow- ly. Now, as ever, she puzzled him. He could not tell whether she were trifling with, tempting, or mocking, him. He only felt that tkis was a scene and a time to hold in' remembrance while life should last. The majestic silence of midnight was upon the earth. The moon had reached mid-heaven, end was looking serenely down upon them; the shadows were small as those of noonday, while over plain and hill and river, over the lawn where the croquet hoops and mallets were lying, over the woods full of the sweet tinkle of distant waters and the soft hum of insect - life, the marvelous silver radiance rested. They were all alone-entirely alone -with only the night and the moon to be witness to whatever they might utter-the night and the moon, which have seen and heard so much of human folly as well as of human crime. But Max was resolved that it should wit- ness no further 'folly of his. He suddenly turned and held out his hand, speaking a lit- tie hoarsely. "Good-by!" he said. "~Good-by 1" she echoed, almost coldly, but she laid her slender, white hand in his. It was the first time that their hands had met since the day when he had clasped hers; all wet and gleaming, in the boat. That recol- lection came back to both of them. Their eyes suddenly met. There was a thrill in look as well as in touch. "Remember that I kept my pledge, at least," she said, smiling faintly. "I may be fast, mercenary, Bohe- mian-every thing that y6u most dislike- but don't forget that I kept faith as far as I could!" "I shall never forget it!" said he. And then the mooii saw some of the old, old folly. All of our impassive ckasseur's resolution melted like wax exposed to steady flame. He lifted the hand which he held to his lip~, he murmured words which wisdom would never have sanctioned. It was only the abrupt movement with which Norab drew back that brought him, in a measure, to himself. "Stop, Captain Tyndale," she said, "and listen to me. I am sorry we could not have parted without this. I am sorry that I can- not think that one man holds me in sufficient respect to treat me as he would treat the women of his own class. Do you think I have not seen, for an hour past, that, what with the night, and the moonlight, and my pretty face, I might have fooled you to the top of your bent?" asked she, with a certain scornful indignation. "But I wanted for once to see if some one could not know me and like me, and-and not try to amuse his idle hours by flirting with me! I find, how- ever, that this is too much to expect. I am flirting material or I am nothing. I like you well enough to prefer to be nothing to you- therefore good-night. Perhaps it is as well that you are going to-morrow." "Norah - Miss Desmond- for heaven's sake, listen to me!" he cried. But, snatching her hand from him, she turned with a gesture of almost passionate pride. "You would never have spoken to Leslie like this!" she said. "After all, you are alike-you and your cousin. You both think that I am for one use and she is for another! No doubt you are right enough, too," she added, with a sudden return to calmness. "No doubt, also, I shall grow used to my position in life after a while. I have not learned to do so as yet; but, then1 I am young-at least, I ought to be. Good-night again, Captain Tyndale. I hope you will have a pleasant journey and a safe arrival wherever you are going." "You will not leave me like this!" said he, imploringly. But, before the last words left his lips, she had drawn her shawl closer around her llgureund passed so lightly and swiftly across the mootilit award that he saw in a mo~nent it was hopeless to follow her. page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 100 A DAUGHTER CHAPTER XXVII. "There are sorrows Where of necessity the soul must be I~s own support. A strong heart will rely On its own strength alone." Ar~za the last guest was gone, and the last good-night exchanged, Leslie went to her chamber with a lagging step. It was much more than mere weariness which weighed upon her: it was a terrible soreness of heart, an unutterable sickness of soul, which it is no more possible to grasp and embody in words than it would be possible to paint a death- agony on canvas. All that she had endured during the day seemed but a faint prelude to the anguish which had possessed her, which shehad bravelyborne and as bravely concealed during the long hours of the evening. Such hours it has fallen to the lot of most women to endure once or twice in life; but time dulls the memory of all things, and only those to whom such pangs are fresh can realize what Leslie endured as she went among her guests with a smiling face,, talking, laughing, uttering the light nothings of society, while pala and doubt, suspicion and jealousy, were gnawing, like the traditional fox of the Spar. tan boy, at her heart. But no one-save, in- deed, Max Tyndale-suspected any thing of this from her face or manner. Is it the au- thor of" Guy Livingstone" who says that it is chiefly in the power to endure that good blood shows itself in these later days of ours? Who- ever~ said it, it is true enough-especially of women like Leslie Grahame. She was thor- ough-bred, not only in blood, but in instinct -not so invariably as we fancy, perhaps, do the two things go together-and there was in~ her the stuff of which martyrs are made, as well as the high-bred reserve, the supreme pride which shrinks from displaying an inner feeling, in a manner which a lower nature lit- erally fails to understand. Leslie could have died sooner than made a sign which would betray, even to the aunt who had been a mother to her, all that she was suffering. After the guests left, she still wore her sniil- ing mask until she parted with the last mem- ber of the household. Then she went to her room where her maid was waiting, restrained an inclination to dismiss the latter at once- knowing that such a proceeding would excite great deal of domestic i'emark-went through all the duties of the toilet as usual, and it was only when every thing was finished, and she was at last alone, that she sank into a chair and buried her face on the cold marble of the toilet-table with a low, pathetic moan. Then the dark waters came surging over her, wave on wave. Her pain was all the more bitter for the mystery which seemed to encompass it. Who was to blame? What had happened? Why wa~ she alone ignorant of what every one else seemed to know? Hard questions, these - questions which it was impossible to answer, though they rose again and again in her troubled mind. Of course the doubt and mystery were dwarfed by the terrible certainty-a certainty borne in upon her with a force which even the most foolish of blindly-foolish women could not have disregarded - of Arthur's alienation; but they were too closely connected with this to be banished altogether. The love which she had leaned upon as a stuff which was to last through life, had broken-cruelly broken -under her hand; but, in the blank bewil- derment of pain which ensued, she was still able to remember all the innuendo which had gone before, still able to ask, "What does it mean?" Round and round this treadmill of hopeless thought her brain went, until she al- most felt as if she should go mad if some light were not thrown upon the subject, if some elucidation of the mystery did not come. But it was characteristic of the woman that she never for an instant thought of seek- ing this light or this elucidation. Although aware that there were two people within a stone's-throw of her room who probably pos- sessed the key which she lacked-who, at least, had spoken as if they did-she never stirred or dreamed of stirring to demand it of them. It was not in her nature to do such a thing. If the explanation came to her, she would receive it, provided always that it came openly and honorably; but to solicit it was something which never occurred to her. So she sat motionless, her hot brow on the mar- ble slab, her hot hands clasped in her lep, while the night wore on toward midnight, and the last sound or movement died away in the house. She was still sitting in this fashion, and beginning to wonder if the sick pain which seemed to pervade every faculty of her body, mind, and spirit, would ever merge into the * blessed unconsciousness of sleep, when a knock sounded on her door, a subdued, hesi- tating, insinuating tap. Instantly she raised her head, her nerves strung like tense cords, her heart beating as if it would stifle her. "It has come!" That was what instinct said to her; that was what held her for a moment absolutely speechless; that was what cost her a sharp struggle before she was able to command her voice and say, "Come in," Then the door slowly opened, and, instead of Norah - whom she had hoped and yet dreaded to see-Mrs. Sandford appeared. "I am so glad to find you are not in bed l" that lady said, advancing into the room, and' closing the door with elaborate caution be- hind her. "I should have been so sorry to disturb you-and yet, I could not have made up my mind to wait until to-morrow. "0 my dearest! "-suddenly clasping the passive form of the girl in a gushing embrace-" I hope you have resolution to bear a tesrible, terrible blow,* and I hope you will forgive me for being the bearer of it. I would do any thing in the world to spare you pain; but, to deceive you-to stand by and see you de- ceived-oh, my darling Leslie, ask yourself if I should be indeed your friend if I could do that? "Will you not sit down?" said Leslie, disengaging herself; and drawing a chair for- ward. At that moment pride made her nerves as firm as steel. She even smiled at the self- important, anxious look with which the other was regarding her. "You are very kind to come at such an unseasonable hour," she said, quietly, "if, as I imagine, you are here on my account.' But, if you will say what you have to say at once, it will be better for both of us." "It is impossible for me to tell you what a struggle it has cost me to come l" said Mrs. Sandford, sitting down and putting her hand- kerchief to her eyes. "I simply had to force myself, and nothing but my great friendship and love for you, Leslie-" "Yes," said Leslie, with a cadence of weary impatience in her voice. She felt as if she could not bear these 'false platitudes. If the woman would speak out, if she would only say what she had come to say, that was all she desired. "What terrible blow is it that you are the bearer of?" she asked, standing bythe toilet-table erect and stately, the shadowy glass imaging her slender figure, 11 OF BOHEMIA. AN UNSEASONABLE VISIT. 161 her pale, lovely~ face, her soft, brown hair, hanging loose. Save that there was nothing wan or melancholy in her aspect, she might have stood for Ophelia. "Oh, my dear, I scarcely know how to tell you!" said Mrs. Sandford. This was strictly true. With her story on her tongue, and the proofs of her story in her hand, a sudden, strange embarrassment came over her. For one thing, she had not counted upon being met by so much self~posaession and reticence. She had pictured a passionate, weeping gii-l, whom she could kiss and soothe and lead as she liked. "It does not matter in the least how you tell me," said Leslie-and through her usual- ly gentle voice 'a jarring chord rang-" so that you do tell me. Suspense is worse than any blow. You ought to know that. Come to the point at once! Tell me whom your story-I see that you have a story-concerns besides myself." "It concerns Miss Desmond and Mr. Tyn. dale!" said Mrs. Sandford, sharply. "Leslie, it is impossible !-you must have seen, you must have suspected, something between them!" "Seen !-suspected!" said Leslie-she threw her head back haughtily. "What do you take me for? How could I suspect my sister and-and the man whom I had prom- ised to marry? Take care, Mrs. Sandford I" -no one who had not seen it would have be- lieved what fire could gather in those soft, gray eyes-" unless you are very sure of what you are\saying, this subject had better end here." "But I am sure!" cried Mrs. Sandford. Her blood was up now. She had made the plunge, and the rest was easy enough. "I suspected, from the first,, that Miss Desmond and Mr. Tyndale were not such new acquaint- ances as they professed to be-as you, poor darling I took them to be-and now I find out that I am right," she said, with energy. "Leslie, they knew each other long ago-they had a love-affair with' each other long ago in Europe. You wrote to this girl about your engagement-she came here at once to break it off, and to draw Arthur Tyndale back to herself. This I know. I overheard a love- scene between them on the terrace at Straf- ford the day we were all there, and I should have told 'you then, only I had no proof, and I knew they might deny every thing. Last 161 OF BOHEMIA. page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] w 162 A DAUGHTER night I SSW Mr. Tyndale give Miss Dearnond a note; this morning 1 1~mew that she went Out at daylight to meet him-Leslie, my darling girl, it goes to my heart to tell you all this; but how can I know how much further you might be deceived if I let it go on?" "YelL are quite right to tell me, if it is true," said Leslie, calmly. She was deter- mined the other should not guess what a sense of deadly faintness came over her, how things grew black before her eyes, or how she was fain to lean heavily against the toilet- table in order to support her trembling limbs. "But you must pardon me if I say that all this is merely assertion," she added, after a moment. ~' In a matter of such grave impor. tance-a matter touching not only my own happiness, but the honor of those nearest and dearest to me-'I should do them grievous in- justice if I were convinced by any thing short of proof." "And I l~ave proof!" said Mrs, Sandford, exultantly. Sl~e forgot herself, and let that tone of her voice betray her real feeling-not sympathy, not indignation for Leslie's wrongs, but exultation, pure and simple, in the fact that she held proof, absolute, indisputable proof, in her hand, at last! "What kind of proof?" asked ]~ eslie She had caught the tone, and it hard4~ncd her heart, and braced her nerves, which for a mo- ment had been in danger of failing. lThr answer7 Mrs. Sandford drew from her pocket a letter1 and laid it on the toilet-table, s~ that its calligraphy could be plainly oh. served, and, if necessary, read. "I suppose you know that writing?" she said, with the veiled falseness coming back to her voice. "I am sure the sight of it must go to your heart,~ my dear; for oh, what a stab it gave me when I openeli the, pocket-book and saw it! "' "The pocket-book-what poeket-book?" asked Leslie. She knew the writing in a mo- ment-blurred and defaced though it was, there was no mistaking those bold, black oharaeters-.-.but, even in this supreme me- mont of doubt~ temptation, and the sharp cer- tainty of betrayal, her exquisite instinct of honor remained with the girl. Touch the let- tar' she would Dot, until she knew whether or not she had a right to do so. "Mr. Tyhdale's pocket-book!" answered )irn Saudford, with a tone of triumph, despite all her efforts', ringing again in the words. OF BOHEMIA. "lIe lost it to-night, and Mr. Ransome found it as we were crossing the lawn. I put it into my pocket, and forgot all about it until a lit. tIe while ago, wHen I took off my dress. Then, examining it-to find out to whom it belonged, you know-I f&und this letter. It seemed providential, for I was just debating. whether or not I should come and tell you all that I knew without any proof-but, of course, with thi8, I could not hesitate any longer. I don't clearly understand how it came into Arthur's possession," she continued, with a puzzled look, "for it is not addressed to him, and it tells Miss Desinond's story from her point of view; but still-if you take all that she says with a great deal of allowance-you will see bow they knew each other in Burope, and how-" "Bxcuse me!" said Leslie-she held up her hand with an indignant, silencing motion -" I woul4 rather hear no more! Indeed, I absol~ztely decline to hear any more !-Noth- ing will induce me to read a line of the con- tents of this letter!" she added, with sudden passion. "I should never have listened to you, as I have done, if I had imagined for a moment how your information was obtained. If you have no other proof than this to offer, our conversation is at an end. I will listen to no morel" "That is just as you please, of course'!" said Mrs. Sandiord. Seldom in her life had she been more taken by surprise, seldom in her life had she been more angry. A flush of color came over her face, her blue eyes expanded with something besides their usual infantine artlessness. "If this is your grati- tude for all that I have done for you," she cried, in a voice tremulous with indignation, "of course, it is quite useless to say that I never thought of myself'. Why should I have thought of myself? Neither Miss Des- mond nor Mr. Tyndale is any thing to me! They might elope to-morrow, and Ishould not care! I only thought of you-and this is you~ gratitude!" "Pardon we, if I said more than I should have done!" answered Leslie. "I scarcely knew what I was saying I did hot mean to be ungrateful. No doubt you desire to serve me; but I would rather remain in ignorance forever, than gain knowledge by suchk a means as this,~t she added, firmly. "I consider that absurd-worse than ab. surd!" cried Mrs. Snndf'ord, angrily. "When S ARTHUR TYNDALE'S L~TTBR. one is deceived and betrayed, one has a right to defend one's self." "By deceiving and betraying in turn ~ asked Leslie. "'I cannot agree with you. If I am deceived and betrayed, that is the fault of others; but it is my own fault if I disre~ gard my own sense of honor and integrity." Mrs. Sandford would have liked to dalI these commendable sentiments "melodramat- ic stuff!" but, not having the requisite cour- age, she shrugged her shoulders in a man- ner calculated to -express the same thing without words. "It is just as you please, of course!" she suid ugain, more stiffly than b& fore. "'I am ~sorry that I came but thought you might to know all that Is going on. No~ body else would speak, and circumstances put the proof into say hands."' "It is impossible for me to' use it," said' Leslie. She stood like a rock, with her proud, pathetic face, her wistful eyes with their look of bitter pain. "If I read that letter, I should never respect myself again !" she cried, with a vibrating thrill in her' voice. "' I suppose I had better' take it and put it back into the pocket-book, then," said' M~rs. Sandford', with a tone of contemptuous vex- ation in her voice. Itergrand o-wip had: ended in failure, and at that' moment she was so angry with Leslie that she could' scarcely trust herself to speak. She rose, and, ad- vanc~ng' to' the toilet-table, laid' her hand on the letter; but, to her' surprise, Leslie inter- posed. "If you will excuse' me~"" she said, "I should prefer to keep this. I have the best right to do so, and it will enable me to return it to its owner~" Oh, certainly;" said Mrs~ ~andford, draw- ing back her hand. "I have no right to it, and not the least disposition to' claim one. As' I said before, Miss Desmond's and Mr. T~ndnle's conduct is nothing' to me!" But, as she spoke thus, the pretty widow thought cynically that, after all, Leslie had indulged in a most absurd and unnecessary pretence of pharisaical honor. It was evi- dent at a glance that she meant to keep the letter'to read; why, then; 'could she not have read' it at once, without all this "fuss?" nut; even aw she asked the question, her in- dignant contempt changed oddly enough into something like respect. Leslie', it was evi- dent, knew "what she was about."' She to read the letter, but she did 'not 163 - mean to be detected in doing so. Mrs. saud- ford felt able to appreciate' the shrewdness 01' this manoeuvre. "To think that I should have been foot enough to be deceived for a minute by all her high-flown nonsense!" she said, to herself, as she left the room and walked down the cor- ridor to heroin chamber. "I ought to have known better. Thit~ she Is shrewder than I gave her credit' for' being-oh, much shrewd~ or! What a point she will make now of not having' read it, when she returns It, and all the time she' wilL know every word in It at well or better than' I do r might have pre~ tended the same thing if I had ebesen F" thought the fair widow, ~irtneus'ly. "'But, after all, it it safer to' tell the' truth-..--there"s some comfort in that." Left alone for the second titne, Leslie stood for several. minutes quite' motionless, looking at the letter as it lay before her en the marble where Mrs~ Sandford had' first laid it. During those minutes' she wrestled' with' and overcame as' sharp a temptation as' falls 'to the lot of most of us during this mortal life. In that letter was the truth-the truth unglossed by deceiving words, or looks, or tones-the truth as it was~ and not as it might perhaps be told to her; it had been brought and laid before her by no a'ct of her own; if she put it from bet, could she ever be quite sure that the mystery under whfch sh~ writhed was made plain as this would make it plain? After a while she turned abruptly away, and walked across the room to an open win- dow which overlooked~ the lawn, on which moonlight and shadow were blended, the shrubbery, the woods, the' distant flelde and hills all~'tbc' serene, beautiful, Silver-flooded prospect, with' the marvelous sky arching overhead, and the murmur of the rIver over' its rapids far away makin'g'a weird; mystical music on the summer' night. Here she stood, asking herself, vainly and torturingly, what she should do. They had known each other, loved each other, long ego! That was' the refrain of all her thoughts; the sharpest sting of' all her paint They had deceived her from the first! Although she repeated this again and again, she could not realize it-she coirki not force her comprehension te grasp it atan intelligent fact. ~he'fcund hersSlf goingbaek with vague wonder over Norah's arrival~, No~ rab's meeting with Arthur, Arthur's pretend- i'~6'~ ,~ I page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ed shrinking from her, Norah's pretended ac- quaintance with Max. "And they knew each other then," she would think. "All the time they were deceiving me, and smiling to them- selves, perhaps. It was all false ! false false!" Yes, all false-every thing false! The lover's love, the sister's affection~-i~ll false! She had never really possessed either the ene or the other. For some inscrutable rea- son, they h~d chosen to make a tool and dupe of her, but she had been no more to either of them than that. She thought of all her trust iii Arthur, of all her plans respecting the change she would make in Norah's life. Somehow, these things came back to her as she stood there in the moonlight-alone with ~ier great desolation, her inexpressible pain. And it was while she still stood, gazing blankly, dumbly out on the jewel-like beauty, which she did not see, that her attention was attracted - how, she scarcely knew - by a white-clad figure which emerged from the shrubbery, and, crossing the lawn, came slow- ly, as if careless of observation, toward the house. ~That it wns Norah she knew in a moment. There was no mistaking the lines of the fig- ure, or the stately,, unconscious majesty of the gait. Her head was bent a little, in an attitude not ~sua1~with her; but the free, elastic step was unchanged. Varying the monotony of its dull pain, a throb of bitter anguish seemed to seize and rend Leslie's heart. It was true, then, all that Mrs. Sand- ford had said! There were assignations,- et- ings-this, no doubt, had been one of th Oh, the misery, the bitterness ,of feeling, of knowing, of seeing, how she was betrayed! A great passion of outraged love and 'jealousy swept over the, girl like a flood. She sudden- ly smote her hands together with an unuttered prayer. "0 my God, my, God, teach me how to bear it!" was her inward cry-a cry which He to whom she spoke scarcely left unan- swered.' Meanwhile; she heard Norah enter the veranda, open one, of the Venetian blinds of the sitting-room-the, windows were rarely closed at night-and so ,pass, without diffi. culty, into the, house. ,It is likely that she took offer shoes ,before ascending the stair- case, for, after this, Leslie heard no further aound. ' , ' But, in truth, she ~id not 'listen for it. Her mind was full of something else. A reso- lution came to her like a flash of inspiration. She would go to Norah! That was the best thing to do. Unconsciously to herself-or, at least, unacknowledged by herself-Leslie felt that there was no hope of hearing truth fro~n Arthur Tyndale. But Norah-Norah, with her defiance and recklessness, might tell -it, perhaps, when confronted with the plain proofs of all that had'~been revealed by chance or accident. Leslie did not give her resolution time to change. She was in one of those moods when even the most impassive feel that they must act or die. She turned from the window, crossed the floor, took the letter from the table, where it still lay, and, opening the door noiselessly, passed, in her bare, unslippered feet, down the 'corridor to Norah's room, un- der the door of which a bright stream of light shone. In this room Norah had not been more than five minutes, and she was still lying, where she had thrown herself in utter exhaus- tion, across the foot of the bed, when Leslie's sudden knock startled her. Immediately her alert vitality asserted itself She sprang to her feet, unable to conjecture what such a sound, at such an hour, could possibly mean -and, instead of saying "Come in," walked quickly to the door and opened it. Her amazement when she faced Leslie-Leslie, in her night-dress, and pale as a statue-could scarcely have been exceeded. "Leslie!" she exclaimed. "What is the matter? What has happened? Come in!" "Nothing is the matter-at least, I mean nothing has happened," answered Leslie, coming in. "I want to see you-that is all. I am sorry to have startled you.". "Oh nothing startles me very, much," an- swered i~orah, who had regained all her self- possession. "My nerves are good-Kate often says that she thinks I have none. Pray, sit down-you look pale. Here is a comfortable chair." Leslie sat down-indeed, she was trem- bling from head to foot, and more than ready to do so. The reaction from her tense strain of nervous excitement began to make itself felt. But, as yet, the strong, power of will' bore her up. Her voice was as steady and quiet as usual when she looked at Norab and spoke again. "I ought to beg pardon for disturbing you at such an hour. I should not have done so if I had not seen. you cross the lawn a few minutes ago, and therefore I knew you were still ~ "Yes, I crossed the lawn a few minutes ago," said Norab, quietly-but there was a slight strain of defiance in her voice. Had Leslie come to lecture he~ on propriety? This was the idea which at once occurred to her. But Leslie was thinking of something be- sides propriety. At another ti'~e she would certainly have been shocked at the idea; of a young lady wandering,' either alone or at- tended, about the grounds, at midnight, when all the rest of the household were safely and decorously in bed-but now she had no time to spare for being shocked. She accepted the fact that Norah had been to meet Arthur, and ~passed on at once to the other, the more importautmatter bearing relation to this fact. "Since I saw you last," she said, "a letter has been put into my hands which belongs to you, or, at least, was written by you, and I have thought it best to bring it to you my- self2' As she spoke, she laid the letter down on a table which was near at hand-the same table on which stood the desk that had so tempted and so baffled Mrs. Sandford. The moment that her hand was lifted from it,, No- rah recognized it. A glow of color flashed into her face., She glanced from the letter to Leslie, and from Leslie back to the letter. To imagine where it had come from certainly puzzled her. "Yes, this is mine," she said, taking it up and glancing at the blurred pages. "It is a letter to Kate, which I wrote several days ago, and-lost." "Lost!" repeated Leslie, involuntarily. Ilope assuredly springs eternal in the human breast. At that moment her heart gave a leap; she was almost ready to believe that the whole thing had been a great and terrible misconception. But Norah's glance, and No- rah's tone, the nextmoment, undeceived her. "I suppose, of course, you have read it?" she said, glancing from the letter to the pale face before her with a keenness and coolness which seemed to faIl like ice on Leslie's heart. "No," the latter answered, not indig- nantly, but so quietly that the word sounded almost indifferent. "It was not mine; I had no right to read it." MRS. SANDFORD' S INTERFERENCE. 165 "And may I ask how it came into your possession?" "You have a right to do so, I suppose. Mrs. Sandford brought it to me; she f~und it in a pocket-book of Ar-of Mr. Tyndale's, which he dropped on the lawn." "Indeed I" said Norab. Expressive as this monosyllable can be made, it has seldom been more expressive than as it fell from her lips.' It meant many things which Leslie did not understand: for one thing, that Max and herself had been right in believing that Arthur had the letter; and, for an other, that it was no wonder he had declined to deliver what had passed out of his possession. She did not know that he had firmly believed himself possessed of the letter at the very time when he refused to acknowledge any thing about it to Max, and that his conduct could only be accounted' for on the, grounds. of general depravity and drunken obttinacy. "This ~,s not th6 first time that Mrs. Sand- ford has interfered in a matter which does not concern her in the least,~' Miss Desmond said, after a little while, very coldly-even at this supreme moment of preoccupation Leslie could not help being struck by the utter ab- sence of any thing like "detected guilt" in her manner or appearance-" I need hardly ask whether or not she has favored you with an account of the various items of inforina- tion with regard to Mr. Tyndale and myself which she has gleaned by eavesdropping' and other honorable means?" "She made some statements which cer- tainly seemed to me very strange," said Leslie. She could scarcely articulate; her lips seemed parched, her tongue was heavy as lead. It was true, then, all true; and this matchless assurance was only the careless insolence of ,one to whom detection was of no importance. "For one thing," she said, gathering courage, "she told me that Mr. Tyndale and yourself had known each other long ago abroad." "She is quite right," said Norah. She was leaning her elbow on' the table as 'she spoke, and her smooth chin in the pink palm of her hand, while her full chestnut eyes met Leslie's own. "Mr. Tyndale and I knew each other very well when he was abroad two years ago." "And yet you told pie," cried Leslie, with passionate indigpation-but here her voice choked and broke down. page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 166 A DA~IGflTEIl After all, some things are too great for speech. Her agony of ruined love and slat- t.ered truSt, was ~ of them "I told you.-.-cr X allowed you to imagine -what was not true," laid ,Norah, in her clear voice. "Yes, ~ acknowledge that. ~ut it was, or I thought it was, a necessity of my position~ The great mistake which I mude was in ever having come here, You were living in a fooVs paradise, it is true~-~a para- dise. built an lies and decepti~n-~-but, if J bad only stayed away, you might have con- tinned to live In it with tolerable comfort to the end." "What do you mean?" asked Leslie, with a gasp Py this time her mind felt as if it was lit. ovally reeling under the continually varying and multiplying impressions which were thrust upon it, She was only aware now of a strange consciOnsness& that. Norah was mis- tress of the situation; that Norah held the key of all this mystery which so puzzled and Wrmentcd her, There was something of su- preme gentleness and pity in those brilliant eyes, and Norab's tone was very dill'erent from that of one arraigned for'her own misdeeds. "Shall I tell you what I mean?" said she, gravely. "Are you strong enough to bear the trsi~h...4he whole truth? If you are, you shall bear it? I said tlzat from the Jirat. If you wished to live on lies, I was willing to let you do so. lint, if you want the truth-"~" "I do want the truth?" interrupted Les- lie, passionately. "What else should I want? for what else am I here? The truth, howev- er bitter and terrible it may be I" she cried, clasping her hauds~ "I have endured the sting, the misery, th. agony of deception, until I am roady..-oh, snore than rea4y~"to hehrthO truth, whatever it may be!" "Then you shall hear it," said ~orah, al- most solemnly, She extended her hands, and, with one of the quick, impetuous mo- tions which characterized her, opened and spread out the letter which lay between them. "If you will read this," she said, "it will tell yen something; the rest I can supply, and these "-~~drawiflg again from her pocket the letters she had shown to ?dax.-w" these shall be my proofs of all I utter. Courage, my poor Leslie! The pang is sharp, but, believe me, there ~re women who have lived through worse-.-~ay, and learned to ~coru as deeply as they ever loved!" VHM'TBR XXVIII. "'Tis a stern and startling thing to think How often mortality stands on the brink 01' its grave without any misgiving; And yet in this slippery world of strife, In the stir of human bustle so rife, There are daily sounds to tell us that Life Is flying, and Deathis living 1" Faox midnight, of a midsummer night, t~ the time when the first rosy flush of day be- gins to break in the east, is not very long, as most of us have, at one time or another of our lives, practically diseov~retl. Max Tyn- dale discovered as much for himself after he parted with Norab, and, returning to Straf- ford, began to prepare for his intended jour- ney. With most men that special terror of the feminine soul, "packing," is a process chiefly remarkable for simplicity and brevity; but Max had been established at Strafford long enough to ilnd a good deal on his hands when it became necessary to prepare for a Ilnal departure in this abrupt fashion. For~ tunately, he had a natural neatness and love of order added to his military training, so that the gathering together and disposing of many odds and ends was not so serious a mat- ter to him as it would have been to the ma- jority of men~ In an hour or two his labors were finished. Thea he sat down and wrote a few lines to Arthur, thanking him for his hospitality, and regretting that they had parted so angrily-dines t,2.uched somewhat by the memory of old kindness, though Max's heart was still hard against his cousin, After this, he threw himself on the bed, and, having a good conscience, and a not particularly damaged heart, was soon sleeping soundly, while the air freshened, the moon sank tow- ard the west, and the cast began to glows Qf course, he dreamed of Koral l~esmond ~.-what ~nan could have failed to do so, with the scene of the snmmcr.house freh in his recollection ?.-but his dreams werex~t by any means as agreeable as the reality. lIe saw her again standing before him in the moon- light, beautiful and proud, with her hand ex- tended in farewell; but, when he was in the act of taking it, the shot which had startled them sounded again', and she bank dead at his feet. Qddly enough, he was distinctly con- scions that it was a nightmare; but he could not waken himself sufficiently to shake it off, and the dream went~ on. She was.taken and T~ borne to the honse-.-he saw the fair face, with the death-agony stamped upon it, in the coffin .-nay, he even heard them nailing down the lid. Did they know ~that they were nailing down his heart with it? life knew it now, too late. He tried to move and cry out.- Suddenly he sprang to his feet, wide awake, conscious that it was broad daylight, and that Giles was knocking at his door. "Come in.-why the deuce don't you come in?" he cried, snappishly-even the best- natured people are sometimes snappish when waked abruptly at five o'clock in the morning. "Door's locked, sir!" responded. Giles, struggling with the handle on the other side. "True enough-I forgot that," said Cap- tain Tyndale. He glanced at his watch: it wa~ just five o'clock. Then he crossed the floor and unlocked the door-which he had absen~ly fastened behind him the iiight before, "What is the matter?" he demanded. "What are you making such a confounded row about? I told you I wanted to get off at kelf.pest five, and it is only five now." "I know that, sir," said Giles. "I didn't come on that account, sir. I come to ask if you know where Mr. Tyndale is?" "Where he is! In bed, I suppose," an- swered Max, opening his eyes. "Where else should he be?" "But he isn't there, sir," said the servant, looking puzzled. "He went out a little after you did, last night, sir, and I don't think he could have come back. At least he isn't in his room, and I've been all over the house, and he isn't anywhere.'? "Isn't anywhere?" repeated Max. He looked, as he felt, considerably astonished. A recollection of the shot of the night before came back to him; and, although he could see no reason for connecting it with Arthur, instinct sometimes connects things in spite of reason. "He may have gone over to los- land, and accepted an invitation to spend the night," he said, after a short pause-though he felt how extremely improbable such a thing was.-" Did he leave the house on foot, and how long after I did?" "Yes, sir, he left it on foot," said Giles, looking a little suspicious, and a~ if he fancied that this information was not exactly neces- sary. "I saw him come out 6f the library- window, and cut across the park-in your very tracks, sir-about ten minutes, or maybe ~ quarter of an hour, after youleft the house." "And you are sure he did noteome back?" "I'm quite sure of that, sir. His bed hasn't been slept in, nor hi~ room set' foot in, last night." "What can have become of him?" said Captain Tyndale, amusingly. Having mentally pooh-poohed his first vague idea about the shot, be felt more curiosity than alarm con- cerning this mysterious disappearance. He knew what Arthur's condition had been the night before, and that he .was ready for any thing, however desperate or absurd. The question was, what desperate or absurd thing had he done? Max's own impression was that he had gone away, as he had threatened to do, the day before; but, of course, he said nothing of this to the servant standing by si. lent, watchful, and expectant. "Your master is able to take care of him- self," he said. "No doubt he'll turn up nil right after a while. Dy-the-by, I suppose you don't know whether any train passes Weiford about midnight, or a little later, do you?" "Anderson's just been telling me that the schedule changed yesterday," answered Giles. "He was over at Wexford and heard it; but he don't know exactly about the hours. He heard the railroad people saying that the ten- o'clock train wouldn't be along tillafter mid- night; but he don't know any thing about the half-past six-" "Tell him to be at the door by a quarter to six, at all events, and we'll drive over and see about it," said Max, curtly-having no fancy for a longer stay at Strafford under any circumstances. "See that there's a cup of coffee in the dining - room for me when I come down," he added; "and what arc you waiting for? That is alL" "Hadn't I better send a messenger over to ask whether Mr. Tyndale's at Mr. Middle- ton's, sir?" "If you want Ma. Tyndale to break your head, you had certainly better do so. He is not a baby, and I don't think he would ex- actly relish being treated as if he were." With this reply Giles took his departure, long-faced and serious. It may be said for him that he was anxious as well as puzzled. It was impossible for any one to be closely associated with Arthur Tyndale without be- coming attached to him. Seen generally and superficially, be was generous, amiable, frank of manner, and open of hand-a debonair young prince'with whom the world went well, 01? BOHEMIA. AN ALARMING SUSPICION. 1~7 OF BOHEMIA- 167 page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 A DAUGHTER and who was willing to throw a little of his sunshine on the lives of those around him. This when the world did go well with him. What he was when it went -ill these pages, which record an exceptional and not a usual phase of his character,-may tell., Meanwhile, half an hour went on, and no sign of him appeared. A general impression that something was wrong had, by this time, diffused itself throughout the Strafford house- hold. Under the stress of these circum- stances Giles's tongue was loosed, and he gave forth hints respecting what he might say con- cerning a serious difficulty between the two cousins the night before. These hints, coupled with Arthur's disappearance and Max's proposed departure, were enough to set the tongues of half a dozen servants at work. The cook shook her turbaned head over the cup of coffee rshe was making for Captain Tyndale ; Anderson shook his head over the horses he was harnessing in the sta- ble ; the housemaidl stood with a broom in her hand talking to Giles on the front portico, and both of them shook their heads at inter- vals. "I wouldn't a' asked Cap'n Tyndale no odds-r'd a'sent to Rosland anyhow," Mary Ann was saying, indignantly, when, greatly to her dismay, Captain Tyndale him- self stepped out of the open hall-door upon them. --- " I am going for a short turn in the park," he said. " Have the coffee ready, and bring my luggage down-I shall not be gone ten minutes." " Very well, sir," said Giles. He turned into the house at once, like the well-trained servant he was, but Mary Ann stood her ground, and, under pretense of sweeping off the portico-steps, watched Captain Tyndale as :he descended the terrace, and struck across the dewy grass, and cool, long shad- ows, straight in the direction of Rosland. In truth, Max was conscious of a queer, uneasy sensation which he could not set at rest-a persistent recollection and connection of Arthur's excited face and the pistol-shot of the night before, which hie found it-impossible to dismiss. He called himself a nervous fool to attach any .serio s significance to his cous- in's absence; but, all the same, he felt that he could not turn his back on Strafford without having satisfied himself by personal observa- tion that nothing tragical had occurred. He certainly thought Arthur's absence singular, though he had not admitted as much to Giles,. It was folly to suppose that he had gone to Rosland, and the idea that he-a sybarite of sybarites-had walked to Wexford in order to take the train, was simply ludicrous. What, then, had become of him ?-where had he spent the night ? Max was aware that the vagaries of a drunken man are often beyond the astutest range of sober intelli- gence, but he wanted to be sure that no harm had come to the young man, and, as a means of ascertaining this, instinct, rather than rea- son, turned his steps in the direction of the bridge, on which or near which the pistol 'must have been fired the night before. If the night had been beautiful, the day was peerless; but, as he walked along, he scarcely heeded its glory or freshness. The shadows stretched serenely beautiful over the sparkling grass ; the air was like crystal in its lucid clearness; the distant violet hills. stood out with exquisite distinctness against the horizon-line ; in the leafy depths off the woods an infinite number of birds were singing, twittering, chirping, ushering in the summer day with a chorus of melody. Every thing was jubilantly joyous-jubilantly full of life-. Half unconsciously Max felt this ; half uncon- sciously it jarred on his mood. He was more nervously, indefinitely uneasy than he eared to acknowledge even to himself. One of those presentiments at which we laugh (when they are not fulfilled), warned him that "some- thing had happened," and this feeling in- creased with evewy minute. It increased as he left the park behind, passed through a belt of outlying forest, and came to a bend of the path which led across a some fields. As he emerged out of the green region of shadow into the full glow of sun- light-already warm, even at this early hour -he caught sight of a dark figure at some distance advancing at a rapid pace toward him. For a second the thought occurred to hima that it might be Arthur. The next instant he saw that, instead of being Arthur, or any- body like Arthur, it ewas a negro, without a hat, running at full speed-a negro who, when he saw him, threw up his arms and shouted something unintelligible. The young man stopped short, stopped as if he had been shot, and stood motionless, rooted to the ground. At that moment an instinctive certainty of what had happened rn came to him as clearly as if it had been ut- tered in plainest language in his ear. A con- stricting hand seemed to seize his heart and hold it still for a minute-a long, horrible minute in which the bright, beautiful, golden prospect lay spread out before him unchanged,. and that dark figure speeding along seemed to advance at a snail's pace. . When the boy-a field-hand, whom he chanced to know by sight and name-reached him, he was panting so that he could scarcely articulate. But, if ever terror and horror were imprinted on a human countenance, they were imprinted on his. No need to ask what presence he had seen. There is but one before which humanity quails in such wild consternation. His eyes were distended so that they looked as if they might start from his head, his lower lip was hanging like that of an idiot, and quivered convulsively. -He stammered forth his news so that Max only caught two words - " Mass Arthur " and " dead." Those two words were enough. They told him all that he had blindly, instinctively felt assured that lie should hear, and, face to face with the certainty, his nerves seemed to quiv- er for a moment, and then grow firm again. Hie had not afterward the faintest recollec- tion of what he said or did; but the boy, who was literally chattering like an idiot, often related, to wondering audiences, how coolly Captain Tyndale looked at him and spoke. " Take time and tell me plainly what is the fratter," he said. " Where is Mr.. Tyn-. dale, and how do you know that he is-" He stopped -i even his self - possession could not enable him to utter that final word. " He's down at the creek ! " was the unex- pected answer, given in a horror-stricken whisper. " I was a-comin' across, sir, an' I seen a man lyin' there, so I went down, an' --an'-an' it was Mass Arthur 1 " said the boy ; and, having been brought up on the Tyndale estate, he ended by bursting into tears. " At the creek ! " repeated Max. He asked no further questions. .That was all he wanted to know-wer-e. He started ,at once at a pace equal to a run, crossed the fields, en- tered another belt of woods, and soon reached the stream, the .small creek which bound- ed the Rosland grounds,. and has been Sev- OF BOHEMIA.DISCOVERY OF ARTHUR'S BODY. 16 eral times mentioned in the course of this story. Approaching from the side next Strafford, he could see nothing until he gained the very edge of the bank, which, just at the bridge, was some ten or twelve feet above the pres- ent level of the water. As he drew near, his pace involuntarily slackened a little ; he gave one quick, heaving breath; for an instant he felt as if it were literally impossible to advance farther. But he shook off this weakness and went on, until, standing at the entrance of the bridge, he laid his hand on the railing and looked over. Instinct, rather than any conscious act of the reasoning faculties, had guided his steps within the railing of the bridge; and it was foi-tunate for him that it had been so, since, prepared though he was for the sight that awaited him, the first glance upon it almost unmanned him. A sudden trembling seized his frame ; his sight grew so dim that, after that first look, he gazed wn on a thick- white mist only. The 'on nerves that had been unshaken when ullets were raining like hail, and men fall ng like leaves, around him, quivered now with a sick faintness he had never known on the bloodiest battle-field. That was in the high carnival of death and carnage, however; what else could have been looked, for then ? But now, amid all this wealth of sylvan beauty and joy, for Arthur -of all human beings, Arthur-to be lying dead, stricken out of life in the glory of his youth, his beauty, his strength, and health, seemed something far too terrible and hideous for belief! Yet it yas so ! The step of the panting negro, as he reached Max's side, roused the latter to something of his usual self-posses- sion. He pressed his hand over his eyes for a minute to clear away their dimness, then he looked down again, and saw a motionless form, a white, rigid face, on which the golden sunbeams fell quiveringly through the green leaves softly rustling overhead.. He stood with his eyes fastened upon the dead man for what seemed a long time to the spectator beside him ; but there was some- thing in the expression of his face which pre- cluded the possibility of the negro's ventur- ing to disturb him. At last he turned and spoke quietly, almost gently: "Go over to -Rosland, Lewis, as fast as' you can, and tell Robert that you want to see . OF BOHEMIA. 169 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 A DAUGHTER OF BOflEMIA. Mr. Middleton-say that you have a message on business for him. Take care, however, and don't mention any thing about-this-or it may get to the ears of the ladies of the family, and, you know-" "Yes, sir," said Lewis-his eyes distend- ing again with a gleam of intelligence-as Captain Tyndale stopped suddenly, with a sort of gasp in his voice, "I'll iiot say a word, sir. "Speak to Mr. Middleton alone,, and ask him to come over to Strafford immediately- say that I want to see him on very particular business, or I should not send for him at such an hour. Come back with him, and, as soon as you are out of hearing of the house, tell him what is the matter." "Yes, sir." Left alone, Max stood still for seine time longer, trying to realize the awful truth that was there before his eyes. Try as he would, however, it was something which he found it impossible to d~. Connect that silent figure with Arthur he could not: and it was only by aii effort he reused himself at last, and, slowly leaving the bridge, walked along the bank of the creek for some twenty or thirty yards toward a spot where th~ ground sloped gradually downward until the greensward was but a few inches above the bed of the stream, which, shrunken now by the summer drought to less than half the width and ye!- time of its winter current, rippled clear and shallow along the middle or deepest part of its channel, leaving a dry, sandy margin on each side. At another time, or under other circumstances, Captain Tyndule might not have been so deliberate in his movements, might not have walked until he could make an easy step from the grassy bank to the creek-bottom. But why should he be in haste now? One glance had told him that all earth- ly effort would be vain-that Death had set his inexorable seal on the victim he had chosen! So he walked lingeringly along the bank, slowly stepped from the soft grass to the barren sand, and, turning, went back toward the bridge, almost immediate- ly beneath which the body of Arthur was lying. For the third time Max paused, when he stood beside the body-for the tbird time a sense of suffocating emotion seized him as he looked on the dead presence that in life had been so familiar to his eye-as he began at last to realize the strange, incomprehensible truth that Arthur was decaL how poor, and petty, and unworthy of remembrance, seemed now the clouds that had come between them of late !-how entirely his thoughts went back to the better days of that~cordial, almost brother-like intercourse and affection which had existed between them for years. A. great pain was at his heart-a great dimness (not of tears, for his eyes were hot and dry) was over his vision, lie bent over and took one of the cold hands in his own. The touch acted like an arousing shock to him. lie shuddered; he let the hand gently fall from his hold; he felt that he must control him- self. "This won't do!" he muttered, as he pushed the hair back from his forehead, throwing off his hat unheedingly in the act. And at that moment an exclamation from a human voice attracted his attention. lie looked up, and saw the pale, horror-stricken face of Mr. Middleton, leaning over the bridge above. "Good God! Tyndale, what is the mean- ing of this?" "God only knows!" Man answered~ with more literal meaning than is often put into those trite words. Truly, and indeed in every sense, God and God alo~ie knew what was the meaning of the scene which the midnight had witnessed here. But that which was merely an exclamation, suggested to him suddenly what he had not thought of before-the ques- tion of lww Arthur had died. "Come down hbre," he said to Mr. Mid- dleton; and the latter, looking a little be- wildered and doubtful as to how he could get down, Max briefly directed him the way he had come himself. Partly the appearance of Mr. Middleton on the scene, and partly the train of thought which his involuntary cry had awakened, at once restored him to his characteristic composure of mind and man- ner, There was something to be done-and the soldier was ready to do it. When Mr. Middleton came to his side, they steeped down beside the body and pro- ceeded to examine it as well as it was pos- sible to do without infringing the law which forbids the touching the body of one found dead until it has been inspected by a jury of inqueSt. Almost'as graceful in death as he. had been in life, Arthur lay in what looked an easy attitude, half on his side, his shoulder supported against a large, flat stone7 his head falling back so that the face was fully ex- posed to view. his right hand the one Max had grasped a few minutes before- rested carelessly beside hini on the saud, palm downward, with loosely.curved fingers, like that of one sleeping; the left arm was bent, and half doubled under the reclining form. The expression of the face-or, more properly speaking, its want of expression- was that of deep, dreamless slumber. Not the slightest shade or contraction marred the beauty of the white f~ehead and pale-tinted but clearly - penciled brows; there was no hollowness under the eyes, where the long lashes swept the cheek, veiling from sight that which "thought shrinks from;" the straight, chiseled nose had no sharpness about it~ lines, and the well-cut lips were closed naturally under the silky waves of the blond mustache. At first they could see no signs of vie. lenee, except that the dress was slightly dis- arranged about the chest and throat, but a moment's scrutiny showed signs of blood on the left side of the head. lEan gently put aside the waves of fair hair, and then they perceived a deep, gaping wound high up on the left temple- the death-wound, as they recognized at a glance. When he saw this, the young man thor~ht again of the shot he had heard the night before, but the shape and general character of the ragged incision forbade even a momentary suspicion that it could have been caused by a pistol-ball. It looked rather as if made by some rough, three-cornered instrument, and convinced the two men at once that the death had not been caused by accident, but was the work of de- liberate desigzm-in plain words, a murder. As the wound looked as if it must have bled profusely, they directed their attention to the ground to See if they could find further traces, and were soon startled by a new dis- covery. A few paces from where the body lay was a spot which had evidently been a pool of blood. .tksd been a pool of blood-it having trickled in a small stream down to the water, no doubt, filtering gradually through the dump sand, also, as it went, leaving only a red stain, which, however, could not be mistaken. But it was not this sanguinary sign which struck theni most. Just beside it was a small, sharp stone, the shape of which seemed to both of them iden- tical with that of the wonu& On examina- tion, they found that it was merely the ex- posed point ot a larger atone embedded im- movably in the sand-a point a good deal like an Indian arrow-bead, and not much larger. In fact, it did not protrude more than an inch above the ground; but it was flint- hard as steel and sharp a~ glass. While they regarded it with mnomently - increasing conviction as to its instrumentality in the death of Arthur, their uncertainty was set at rest by another discovery. Exactly on a line with the stone for about the length of a man's body there was a faint, but perfectly percept tiblo indentation on the sand. They looked at it for an instant, and then Mr. Middleton spoke. "It is plain enough, so far as the mere cir- cumstance of his death is concerned," he said, in that hushed tone to which the voice involuntarily attuned itself in the presence of the great destroyer. "He must have been waylaid and attacked as he went home from my house last night. Them was a struggle, evidently "-he pointed to the loosened c1ravat and other appearances about the upper part of the dress, which could only have resulted from a personal conflict-" and he has been hurled violently down, hishead strikingagainat that stone. But I don't understand why he should be here-how he got here-" He paused, looking vaguely round; and, as by a common impulse, he and Captain Tyndale. rose to their feet, and began to be- stow the same scrutiny on the locale around which they had just given to the body it-- self. It would have been hard to find a lovelice spot than this, which was to be evermore a picture, in the memory of both of them, as a scene of, hoi'ror, a background of mocking beauty to the ghastly central object before them. The bridge, a rustic, picturesque struct- nrc of wood, had been thrown over the creek at the point where the stream was narrowest and the banks highest; and almost imme- diately beneath its span they now stood. The banks rose, perpendicular as the walls of a chamber, to at least ten feet above them on each side, for some distance boTh above and below the bridge; and, as the stream made a sudden horseshoe bend just here, they were literally shut in-to the sight-between walls of most varied and luxuriant verdure-shrubs, A PROBABLE MURDER. 171 171 page: 172 (Illustration) [View Page 172 (Illustration) ] 172 A DAUGHTEI~ OF BOHEMIAN. moss, clinging vines, and even trees that bent their limbs over from above, or shot up their stems from the rich, loamy deposit just at the verge of the water. The blue sky, with a few fleecy clouds floating like pearly mists in its liquid depths, was overhead; the sun. shine flickered down tWrough the spreading boughs that fringed the bank on its eastern side, throwing here a gleam, there a broad sheet, of brightest gold over the clear, shald low winter' that flowed noisily by, and upon the dry creek-bed o~i which was stretched the slender, gracefulfigure of the dead man. The first thing which at the same moment attracked the attention of the two gentlemen was the crushed and broken appearance of the shrubs on the bank, at one point a few paces lower down the stream than the spot where the body lay. Several bushes had been uptown, and now hung to their native earth by thefibres of their roots alone, ~while a larger one-a small tree, in fact, it was-had only suf- fered in the breaking of some of its branches. There were signs, too, on nearinvestigation, of a man's feet having been dug into the soil at intervals, in a slanting direction, along the sheer, perpendicular face of the bank-making it plain that somebody had~clambcred down by clinging to the thick, tough growth with which it was clothed. "Could it have been Arthur himself?" was the thought which occurred to both, and which was expressed in the' glance they ex- changed. Again, as with one 'thought, they turned to ascertain this by examining his boots, which would necessarily retain traces of the moist earth, if it had been he. A glance satisfied them that it was not. Both his boots and trousers were immaculate of earth- stain or speckof any kind, as when he had entered 'Mrs. Middleton's drawing-room the evening before. "Strange!" said Mr. Middleton. "There was.a struggle, unquestionably." "Unquestionably," assented Max; "and it is equally unquestionable that, somebody has scrambled down the bank here, and that it was not-himself." '!Yes. What is most unaccountable to rae, though, is how he got here, what he was doing down he'~e, if the murderer came down after him. And, then, that mark there is certainly the print of his body, to say noth- ing of 'the wound: yet he lies in a position which shows he has been moved since he fell." Then, with a fresh burst of horror: "Great Heavens! to think of it! Arthur Tyndale murdered! One of the last men in the world that I shoul~ have expected to see meet such a fate! And here, right at his own door, almost in sight of my house! I Good Heaven~! I can scarcely believe the evidence of my own sense! What could have been the object of such a murder? Can you imagine? 'Oh! "-as ,a sudden' thought struck him-" it may have been a robbery as well as a murder. No!" (after ascertaining that neither watch n~r purse was missing). "There seems no clew to the mystery. Well "-raising himself with a short but deep and audible sigh-" well, we must see about-" "Stop!" said Max. "We will examine the ground above there.-Stay heic, Lewis," he added, turning to the boy, who had fol- lowed Mr. Middleton closely, and now stood near in open-mouthed wonder, "while we go up on the bridge." He turned and lcd the' way rapidly down the bed of the stream, until he came to a point where he had no difficulty in mounting the bank by the aid of the roots and trunk of a small, gnarled beech-tree; but Mr. Mid- dleton, who was neither so active in move- ment nor so long of leg as himself, kept on to the place they had both passed over in coming, a 'few minutes before, and conse- quently he was considerable behind Max when the latter, after mounting the acclivi- ty, stopped at the entrance of the bridge to wait for him. While be came puffing and blowing up the steep ascent, Max walked upon the bridge, and looked closely at the floor, especially at that part just above the spot where the body lay. As he looked, he shook his head. There were no signs of a struggle having taken place, and, if such a thing had been, the evidences must have appeared, since a thick coating of dust covered the boards, and 'any unusual movement upon it would have left unmistakable traces. The young man turned, and, passing outside the railing, began to direct his scrutiny to the green- sward which stretched along the edge of the bank. He had scarcely turned the corner, so to speak, of the railing-it should be re- marked that this railing, as a matter of pre- caution o& account of the height of the bank, was run out for a considerable distance from '-4 -I C- S C 0 4, A 4, 4, A 0 U page: -173[View Page -173] t A BEARER 0] the edge of the stream upon the land-when a sudden exclamation from him quickened the pace of Mr. Middleton, who was by this time but a few yards oh'. Hastening forward, that gentleman echoed the exclamation with emphasis, as he gazed down up'pn the crushed and trampled turf to which Max's hand point- ed. Here the struggle had been, it was plain, a hand-to-hand struggle, for the grass, which was high and luxuriant, bore the print of trampling feet that had moved in a very small space, and obviously irregular manner, along the very edge of the bank, from which a frag- ment of turf had been broken in one place. Except on this spot, there were no majks of footsteps in any direction. ( "So !-there is no question but that he was waylaid, as I have said," observed Mr. Middleton - "and the body must have been thrown fr9m here, instead of off the bridge, as we supposed." He went close to the mar- gin of the bank, looked cautiously over, and was about to speak, when another exclama- tion-this time it was almost a cry-from his companion, startled him so that he nearly lost his balance, and was for an instant in danger of going head-foremost the way he had just expressed his belief that Arthur Tyn- dale had gone. Recovering his equilibrium, he looked round to see what had excited Max so greatly-looked just in time to see the lat- ter start forward, stoop, and seize some ob- ject that lay half eonce~led beneath the sweeping foliage of a small shrub near by. A gleam of sunshine chanced to fall just upon the place, and lighted the plate of burnished metal which had caught Max's eye by its glit- ter. "What is it?" said Mr. Middleton, eagerly. "A pistol, you see," was the reply; and the young man held it up to view. "His own pistol, as I perceived in an instant - here is his name." He pointed to the silver plate on which the name was engraven, and then went bn in a tone of deep agitation: "Great God! if I had but gone when I started to go, last night-when I heard that shot-I might per- haps have prevented this! But-" He stopped short-remembering why he had not gone, and, even at that moment, conscious that he must be careful what he said lest he should compromise Norah. "Heard a shot!" repeated Mr. Middleton. "Is it possible you heard a shot last night? When?" ? BAD NEWS. 173 "Some time between eleven and twelve o'clock. I was in your grounds-" "Good Heavens!" broke in Mr. Middle- ton, to whose mind, by some association with the word "grounds," the recollection of Les- lie at this instant occurred for the first time since he had come upon the scene of the tragedy-" Good Heavens, Tyndale! 1 had forgotten Leslie! Poor child! "-a sudden moisture came into his eyes, and his voice sounded husky. "I must return home im- mediately "- he went on, hurriedly-" God forbid that sech news should reach her from the tattle of servants, or without preparation! Meanwhile, the body cannot be moved until the jury has ~een it." "Of course not," said Max. "But I will send Lewis to Strafi'ord to have every thing prepared, so that it can be moved as soon as possible. And about the jury "I'll dispatch a messenger to f lie coroner at once-and, as soon as I have told my wife, I will join you again. You remain here, I suppose?" ~ said Max. "Fortunately," said Mr. Middleton, "this is a very cool, shady place - and I hope we may get the inquest over in the course of the morning. Now, I'll go." He held out his hand; the two exchanged that nervous grasp which is often more cx- prdssive of strong feeling than many words could be; and then he turned and strode with the vigor of a young man across' the bridge toward Rosland-while the other once more descended to where he had left the servant, as a watcher beside the dead. CHAPTER XXII "Love and be loved! yet know love's holiest deeps Few sound while living! when the loved one sleeps, That last, strange sleep, beneath the mournful' sod, Then Memory wakes, like some remorseful god, And all the golden past we scarce did prize, Subtly revives, with light of tender eyes." As Mr. Middleton took his way to Ros- land, it would be difficult to describe the tumult in which his mind was plunged. The first impression of the shock having, in a measure, subsided, he was able to face it more clearly, able to understand all that it / / page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 1741: A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. A WEARY NIGHT. 1~5 isrroived~ and all that must. flow from it-es- pecially with regard to Le~lie. flow was it possible to tell her that the lover from whom she had parted a few hours before in the flush of youth and health, was now' lying dead- foully murdered? How would she bear such an overwhelming blow? It was natural, per- haps, that this consideration should have weighed with him even more than pity for the unfortunate young man who had been hurled so abruptly out of a life which every gift of Fortune con4ired to render one of exceptional brightness. The mystery over- hanging his fate made it doubly tragical; but then that fate was accomplished, the worst was over and done, while Leslie-who could foresee what effect such a shock might have upon her future life? ~i~is was what Mr. Mid- dieton thought, as he walked forward, his steps unconsciously growing slower as he ap. pvoaehed the house, his heart quaking as the veriest coward's' who ever aer~ed in military ranks might have quaked whem~ the order to charge a battery was given. A l~attery! Mild- est of civilians though he was, Mr. Mid~dleton would have faced teli batteries just then, in preference to bearing the news which he car'- ned within the walls of Rosland. As he crossed the lawn, he glanced round at the scattered mallets and croquet-hoops. "Great Heavens! he was here latt night!" he said to himself. Here last night, and now-where?. When he entered the hall, the first person' whom he met, much to his aurprfse, was his wife. Disturbed by the message which' had come for him, and vaguely uneasy concerning what it might portend, Mrs. Middleton had risen, early though it was, and weary as she might well have bceii from the dissipation o'f the night before. "Something is the mat- ter!" she thought ;~ and, since she was not one of the women who are ready to think this on nIl occasions, her instinct may have counted for something. It is at least certain that she did not disturb any one elsewith her apprehensions and forebodings. The whole house was wrapped in itS early morning still. ness as she sat in the halT, fresh and cool, and pleasant to look upon as ever, trying to di. vert her mind with a newspaper which she had taken np, but in reality seeing not one of the sentences on which heiv eyes rested, when ber husband,~ with. a face so pale' that it scarcely bore any resemblance to his own; walked in upon her. This face in itself would have been cnongh to frighten anynerveus woman into a scream, but Mrs. MiddIeton, fortunately for the peace of the household, rarely screamed. As she glanced up, holding her gold. rimmed eye- glass still before her eyes, she uttered a faint cry of surprised alarm, but that was all. The eye-glass fell with a click-she rose to her feet: "George 1" she said-" George t-for Heaven's sake, what is the matter?" Then George, seeing that his face had be- trayed him, and, being a sufficiently sensible man to know that bad news is only made worse by any attempt to "break it," took her trembling hands into his own, and answered plainly; "Something so terrible, Mildred, that God only knows how that poor child up-stairs is to bbar it. Arthur Tyndale is dead!" "Arthur Tyndalc-dead l " she repeated, with a gasp-her eyes opening wide and' star- tIed, her face turning so white that he passed hi's arm quickly around her. "Ge6rge, do you know what you are saying? How-how can Arthur Tyndale be dead ~" "He has been murdered, I fear," said! Mr. Mid~flcton, reluctant'1y "He was fomrl dead down inthe ercek'-bottom by his cousin, who sent for me. There are plain signs of violence, and-courage, Mildred! I thought it best to tell y~u the truth at once - you, who are not like other women - hut try to bear up fon poor Leslie's sake 12' The adjuration was necessary, for she ha~ buried her face on his shoulder, shuddering and almost convulsed. Dead ! - murdered! It would have been awful enough if he had been the most ordinary of the guests who had been with her the evening before; but the man who for months had been as intimate in her house as if he had been a son of it, the man whom Leslie was to marry - those who have never passc5i through such a shoek can ill conceive the overmastering horror' of it. At' the sound of Leslie's name, however, she hurst suddenly into passionate tears. "0 my poor teslic 1-0 my poordarling!" she cried. "0 George, George, how will she bear it 12" "It is you who must help her to bear' it," 'said Mr. Middleton, leading' her' into the sit- ting-room and closing the door. The hail was too open and public a place for such a scene as this-for such a story as he had to tell. As he told all that he knew, and all that Max and himself had together conjectured, it was not strange that her sense of the awful nature of the tragedy deepened many fold. It seemed something too appalling for grief, according to the ordinary meaning of that term; it was something which dwarfed all the conventional words in which we speak, all the conventional thoughts we think. Some- times we are tempted to wonder if our power of feeling is as limited as our power of ex- pression. It almost seems so: at least it is certain that a great shock tends as inevitably to deaden the sensations and throw the mind into chaos, as to bewilder the tongue and de- prive us of words. Into something of chaos Mrs. Middleton's mind was thrown now, only dominating all other thoughts was the thought of Leslie, and the necessity - the inexorable, cruel necessity - of telling her the terrible news. From this necessity she shrank, as the weakest woman alive might have done. "I cannot tell her l" she cried. "0 George, I cannot! It will kill her I" "The people whom such things kill are weaker people, mentally and physically, than Leslie," answered Mr. Middleton, who had by this time regained something of his usual manner. "It will be a blow which may leave its mark on her till she. dies, but I do not think it will kill her. God knows I would do any thing on earth to spare her," he said,' walking hurriedly to and fro; "but there is nothing to be done. She must bear it; and what we are oNige~ to endure, DIihlred, we can endure. You know that." "But this is so fearful, so sudden! And, then, the doubt-the horrible doubt-George, what am Ito tell her?" "The truth. Any thing else, in such a case, is gratuitous cruelty, not kindness." "I cannot 12' said she, shuddering. "It is too much to ask of me. Oh, to think that sh~ is unconscious now! My poor darling! God help her!" While the woman who had been a mother to her was thus weeping and unnerved below, Leslie, dry-eyed and full of misery-misery which she was too proud to vent in sigh or sob-had risen, Long before her usual hourj from a sleepless couch. It chanced that, in * her healthy, happy youth, she had never en- dured such a thing before as a sleepless night -a night in which the mind persistently re- fused to allow the body to rest-and the sen- stations which accompany such a vigil were all new to her. She had hitherto entered so little upon the heritage of grief and pain, common to all the children of earth, that she had never before risen with weary lassitude pervading every limb, with a sick heart and an aching head, with a mouth parched as if from fever, with eyes that burned, and lids that felt tense'and strained as they stretched across them. "Was ever sorrow like unto my sorrow? Was ever desolation~ like unto mine?" had been the cry of her soul during all the long hours of that wearynight. Weep? She would have scorned herself if she had felt one tear rise to her eyes. What had she to weep for? For having poured out her love and trust like water on barren ground?~ for having given every thing, and received noth- ing? for having been deceived from first to last? These were not things for which to weep. "'If he had died," she said to herself more than once, with a low moan, "it would have been so different!" Such a thought comes often hand-in-hand with the keen sting of betrayal, and it was not singular, there- fore, that it should have come to Leslie; but if she could have known on what the moon was looking down at that very moment! No instinct came to warn her, however, as she lay' gazing out on the summer night, or the fresh glory of the summer dawn, measur- ing the full height and depth and length and breadth of her desolation, as the hours went by. She was not melodramatic or passionate iii her grief; she d1~I not think that life was, in any sense, over for her. On the contrary, she knew better; she knew that she must rise with the morning to face the necessities of her position, to bear her burden bravely, to let no one even suspect how deep the sting had pierced. A few women-only a few-. are capable of doing this; and Leslie was one of them. There was none of the stuff of a lovesick maiden in her. She could have died sooner than said to the world, in word, look, or tone, "I have been disappointed and be-a traded!" If she had been tried by the or- deal which she anticipated, there is no ques- tion but that her courage would have matched her endurance, no question. but that victory would have come4to her in. the end, as it nl- ways comes to the brave of heart and the strong of purpose. But over this fiery ordeal she had not to pass. As she stood before her mirror, lan- 175 174 page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 17~6 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. gurdly combing out her soft, brown hair, and trying to think when and how she had better tell Arthur that all was known toher, a low, hesitating knock sounded on her door-a knock which seemed to echo the palpitations of the heart behind it. She started, and turned round. Perhaps it was her over- wrought frame of mind which filled her in- stantly with an instinct of ill. At least, it is certain that she felt it. Was it Mrs. Sand- ford again? she wondered. "Come in," she said, coldly; and, When the door opened, it was not Mrs. Sandford, but Mrs. Middleton, who stood on the threshold. Mrs. Middleton, with the news she had come to tell a~ clearly printed on her face as it had been on her husband's when he en- tered the hall! One glance at that face Les- lie gave; then she clutched the back of the nearest chair for a support-the room reeled around, her limbs trembled under her, her tongue seemed paralyzed. She could not speak; she could only wonder what had hap. pened-what could possibly have occurred- to make her aunt look like that. As for Mrs. Middleton, she felt as if all power of language deserted her-all knowl- edge or judgment how to act. What to do, what to say, in presence of that white, im- ploring yet unconscious face, she did not know. For an awful minute she stood silent. Then she did the best as well as the simplest thing; she came forwar~l, and took the girl in her arms. "Leslie! Leslie! 0 my poor darling!" she cried, and then fell to weeping so sorely that Leslie felt at once that only one calamity. out of all the calamities of earth, could have befallen her. "What is it, auntie?" she asked, quiver. ingly, regaining her voice at length~ "Is it about Arthur? Has any thing happened to him? Whatever it is, tell me at oiice! I can bear any thing better than this." But the story was too terrible to be told at once-Mrs. Middleton retained that much judgment, at l6ast-and it was only by de- grees that the horror-stricken girl heard her lover's fate. Only by degrees she learned that there was no need now to think of him bitterly, no need now to consider how to give him back his pledge with sufficient scorn! The passions of earth and the things of time were all over for him to whom the great sanc- tification of death had come. And so it was that the love which life had taken from Leslie, death gave to her. In that bitter hour, pride sank down and died utterly; she did not ask any longer whether he had ever really loved her; she did not re- member the sting or the indignity of his de- ception. The last few troubled days of doubt, the last terrible night of certainty, passed from her recollection as entirely as if they had never been. The majesty of her own love rose and asserted itself. She might have crushed and stifled it, while life and all life's possibilities of happiness were his; but now-in that great agony of remorseful love, of tenderness washing out all stain which death awakens-it came back like a flood upon her soul. The golden hero of her youth, the prince nhose kiss had first waked her heart from its maiden trance, was hers again. No power of earth could take him from her now. Worthy or unworthy? Who could ask such a question? When we enter Death's mighty treasure-house, * it is with bared head and reverent breath. The touch, which is like a sacrament, has been pressed upon our gold, and we do not stop to cavil or to ask how much alloy it may contain. Diverse as the faces and the natures of men, arc the ways in which grief displays it- self. Who has not seen the volatile tempera- ment stunned into strange quietness, or the quiet temperament rise into the madness of passionate excitement? Rarely do people "take things" as we expect them to do. Leslie did not take this great shock as her aunt had feared that she might. When she mastered the truth at last, she slipped out of the arms which encircled her, and, with one cry of agony beyond expression, sank upon her knees. "Dead !" she repeated, again and again-and then she would break into low, shivering moans. That was all. Pas- sion, despair, insensibility - none of these things came. Perhaps, though her aunt knew it not, she had already gone through t~o much for any ~triolcnt excess of emotion. In a measure, at least, she was stunned. Her agony of the night had been so intense that she might well have uttered Thekla's words when the bearer of evil tidings entered: "The worst is said already: I can hear Nothing of deeper tlngnlsh 1" * "Death is the great treasure-house of love."- LORD LYTTON. U I NORAR'S ASTONISHMENT. Meanwhile, the news spread through the household with the subtle rapidity of an elec- tric flash. That something of an unusual na- ture had occurred, all the servants Were very well able to surmise when Mr. Middleton was summoned away by an agitated and mysteri- ous messenger; when Mrs. Middleton rose at. an hour unprecedented in the experience of those who had served her for years; when one servant reported that he had met his master on the lawn with a face "like death," and another thnt she had seen her mistress going up-stairs "crying as if she would break her heart.~' But, with all this, they were unpre- pared for the announcement which the ser- vant whom Mr. Middleton summoned to take his message to the coroner made when lie came forth. "Good Lord, Maria, Mr. Tyn. dale's been murdered I" he said, with a dis- mayed a~id yet an important face, to Leslie's maid, whom he met first. "Master says he's been found a.lyin' dead down in the creek!" Then it was that, like hightnhig, the news dilTused itself through the house. Mrs. Sand- ford's maid flew with the intelligence to her mistress. Maria, aware that Mrs. Middleton was with Leslie, b thought herself of Miss Desmond, and of th immediate necessity of enlightening that yo a y. us it came to pass that, five minutes later, orah was waked from her morning sleep by an excited figure at her bedside-a figure wringing its hands wildly, and announcing, without pref'. ace or preparation, that Arthur Tyndale had been murdered. "What!" she cried, springing up in bed -wide awake, in an instant, startled, incredu- lous, doubting her own ears. "What is it you say? Who has been murdered?" "Mr. Arthur Tyndale, miss!" answered Maria, with something between a sob and a groan in her throat. She was as near hys. teri~cs as it was possible for a young person of the raving-distracted kind to be; but, for all that, it cannot be denied that a certain satisfaction pervaded her breast at this mo- ment. Who could have been insensible to the gratification of being the first to announce such an unexampled item of intelligence? "Arthur Tyadale!" repeated Norab. For a minute she could do nothing but stare at the speaker with distended eyes-amazement, horror, and incredulity, precluding all power of further speech. Then she suddenly sprang to her feet, extended her hands, and, taking 12 177 the maid by the shoulder, gave her a quick shake. "Have you lost your senses, that you come to me with such an absurd story as this?" she cried, sharply. "You know it cannot be true!" The tone and the shake together were re- markably efficacious in dispelling most of the alarming symptoms of hysterics. "It is as true as can be!" said Maria, retreating a step. "I-I thought you'd like to know, miss. Master told Jim himself.-' and Jim tcdd me. Mr. Tyndale's been found murdered down at tIre creek." "Murdered ! - do you mean that he is dead?" cried Norah. It was a very stupid question; but people sk stupid questions at such times as these. he most brilliant of us are not generally brilliant in the face of an overwhelming shock, and to Norah, no more than to the rest of the household, was the immediate realization of such an appalling fact possible. "La, yes, to be sure, miss," answered Ma- na, opening her eyes very wide indeed. "At least, that's what Jim said-murdered? Of course, when a gentleman's murdered, he's dead, miss." "Murdered! My God! Can it be possi- ble?" said Norah. She put tier hands to her head for a moment. Her brain seemed reel- ing. It would be hard to enumerate all that flashed upon her at that instant. Arthur, Max, Leslie, the events of yesterday and of last night-much which she could not con- nect-came to her, as the events of his past life are said to come to a dying man. She was silent scarcely a minute, but Maria thought she had never seen a face so changed as hers was when she looked up. "Does ~1r. MiddleL ton know or suspect who committed the mur- der?" she asked - a sharp, hard4 metallic ring in her usually rich voice. "Not as I knows of, miss," answered Ma- ria, reluctantly. It was hard to be forced to confess ignorance on such an important point as this. "And Leslie-do you know whether she has heard it?" "Mistis' is in her room with her now," said the girl, with bated breath. Even ~he felt what those words implied. "What!" cried Norah, "is it so certain as that? Great Heaven, girl! do you mean to tell me that Ehere is no doubt?" page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 A DAUGHTER "I don't think there's any doubt, miss," answered Maria-awed and almost frightened by the passionate vehemence of the appeal- "master's sent Jim for the kurroner." "For the what?" "The kurroner, miss-the man that always comes and sits on people when they're found dead4" "And, since he has been sent for, you think it is certain that Mr. Tyndale is dead?" "I'm sure of that, anyhow," was the an- swer, delivered with perfect faith, "for master told Jim." "My God! what does it mean?" said No- rah, under her breathe Then she looked up, imperious and haughty as ever "You can go!" she said-adding, impatiently, as the girl stood still, scarcely understanding her, "don't you hear? Your news is told-you can go!" After the indignant Maria had retired, the first thing Norah did was to walk across the room. It was a purely involuntary movement, born of. that impulse to act which was inher-. ent in her' temperament. Any thing to her was better, was more possible, than passive endurance. Any bodily effort'was preferable to sitting still to be rent by thoughts like vultures. ' Who san think of hearing, while there is' any thing to do?" she often said. And, even when there was nothing to do-as in the present case-the instinct and longing of her nature was so much for action, that she rushed into movement and speech as other ' women rush into hysterics and tears. Thrilled to the core, as she was, by the ter- rible news she had heard, the energy of her character asserted itself. "What can I do?" was her first thought. As yet her mind re; fused tocredit the fact which had been forced upon it~' The idea that Arthur could be dead -.Arthur, con~rnin~ whom she had sat, till long past midnight, talking to Leslie-seemed utterly impossible, too wildly improbable to be true But, even as she thought this,, a sudden recollection of the shot which she had heard the night before came back to her, as it had come back to Max. That was grim evidence which could' not be set aside. She stopped short, her head thrown back; her hands inter- laced, her whole 'attitude suggestive of one drawn up short by the curb of 'some unex- pected thought. 'What did it mean I' That was what she qaked herself with quickening OF BOHEMIAN. breath. If the report which she heard-eke, the woman who loved him once-had been Arthur's death-shot, from what hand had it come? What midnight assassin could possi- bly have lain in wait for him? And he-had not Max said that he had left him at Strafford? What, then, was he doing in, or near, the Rosland grounds? Questions, these, which she was unable to answer; but they seemed to fire her with renewed energy, even while she felt an unutterable faint sickness in every fibre. It was 'characteristic of the woman that she turned suddenly, and began to dress with impetuous haste. "I must see Mr. Mid. dleton!" she said to herself. "I must know all that has happened!', But, with all her haste, she found, when she went down, that Mr. Middleton had gone back, as he* had promised, to join Captain Tyndale. Mrs. Middleton was still with Les- lie, and, of course, there was no one else to whom she could apply. "Where is Mr. Carl Middleton?" she asked, before she remem- bered that he had left the night before, and Robert stared a little as he answered to that effect. There was nothing to be done; therefore, but to pace the hall to and fro, and try to realize that which must certainly be true, since a pall seemed to overhang the house, since the very servants' came' and went aim- lessly with terror-stricken, curious faces, and the whole household machinery was plainly in that interesting liouleversement which a domes. tic calamity always causes. Not many min- utes had she been here, however-.-minutes measured off as methodic$ly by the old-fash- ioned English clock as if time had not ceased forever for one soul-when a figure becoming- iy arrayed in a blue dressing-gown, a figure which had not allowed its feelings to run away with it to the extent of forgetting its chignon, swept down the staircase and rushed to her. "Good Heavens, Miss Desmond!" cried Mrs. Sandford, with more alarming signs of hysterics than even Maria had displayed. "Is it true, this awful, 'awfut news?" "I am afraid it is true that Mr. Tyndale is dead," Norah answei~ed-and, feeling the curi- osity of the blue eyes bent on her, pride steadied her voice and hardened her face into an indifference as great as if she had spoken of some chance acquaintance of the day be- fore-" whether or not he has been murdered, I do not know." I MRS. SANDEORD'S CURIOSITY AND MALICE. "But how can he be dead?" cried Mrs. Sandford, "and oh, who could have murdered him? I thought I should faint when Ellen rushed upon me with the news! I told her it cozdd not be true! I can't believe it! Why, he was here last night! Miss Desmond" (with an assurance of tone and manner which Norah felt to be absolutely insolent), "I am confident that ~,'ou know whether or not it is so!" "I know nothing about it!" Norah an- swered. She had. neither time nor inclination to waste words on this woman. She turned from her with impatient. disdain, and began her sentinel walk again. What had happened? What was going on at Strafford? What had been the meaning of that shot? These were the thoughts which filled her mind. Mrs. Sandford's talk, full of nervousness, malice, and distracted curiosity, flowed by her un- heeded, with all its italics and exclamation- poihts. 7igtc-d-te~te in this fashion, Mrs. Mid- dieton found them when she came down. stairs. On her Mrs. Sandford flung herself with a wealth of condolence. " Oh, my dear, dear Mrs. Middleton," she cried, "what a terrible blow to all of us! Oh, how does our poor darling Leslie bear it? And oh, is it true -quite true-that Mr. Tyndaleis dead?" "It is quite true," answered Mrs. Middle. ton, whose pale face and tear-stained cheeks made her look ten years older than she had done the day before. She sat down with an air of utter exhaustion in the nearest chair. "Leslie bears it better than I could have ex- pected," she said; "but it is a fearful blow, to her-fearful! 'My heart bleeds for her; and yet, there is nothing which any one can do. That is the hard part of it." "Oh, it is terrible!" cried Mrs. SandFord again, her eyes expanded, her whole face full of the liveliest interest and curiosity. "Oh, dear Mrs. Middleton,'pray do tell me some- thing about it. I have heard nothing-abso- lutely nothing-but I cannot b'~lieve that Mr. Tyndale is really~--dead!" "Unfortunately, 'it is impossible 'to dis- believe it, unless we close our ears to the truth," said Mrs. Middleton. "Mr. Tyndale is certainly dead-my husband had seen him when he came back to tell me.' "And is it true th~tt he was murdered?" asked Mrs. Sandford, in an awe-struck whis- per. p 179 The elder lady bent her head; for a min- ute she could not speak. Then, in a voice full of tears, she said: "Yea. That is what makes it so hard-so horrible! He has been murdered. Mr. Middleton thinks there is no doubt of it." "flow?" asked Norah, speaking for the first time. She had paused in her walk, and stood leaning against the foot of the stair- case, her arm around a small bronze statuette that made a finish to the end of the balus- trade. As Mrs. Middleton glanced toward her, she thought, with a sense of repulsion, that the girl looked cold and utterly heart. less; even Mrs. Sandford's effusion had more "sympathy" in it than this unmoved calm. "Mr. Middleton could not tell exactly how he had been killed," she answered. "lie seemed to feel uncertain, and I did not press him for any details. The fact itself was enough for me, and I am sure for Les- lie." "Was he shot?" asked Norah. She fully understood the significance of that last sentence, bu$she chose to satisfy one of the many doubts which were harassing her mind. "No," answered Mrs. Nfiddleton. "My husband said they found a pistol,' but it was Mr. Tyndale's own-and he was not shot." "If he had a pistol, why on earth didn't he shoot the murderer?" cried Mrs. Sand- lord, with the air of one who propounds a perfectly new question, or makes a perfectly new suggestIon. "I can't conceive how he could have failed to do that!" "The fact puzzled George and Captain Tyndale very much," said Mrs. Middleton. "Altogether it is a most mysterious as well as a most terrible thing !-My' poor Leslie I" Then she turned to Miss Desmond again. "Leslie told me to ask if you would come to her for a little while," abe said, with some- thing even more c6ld and stately than usual in her niannor; and it must be confessed that, to Miss Desmond, she always displayed a considerable amount of both coldness and statMiness. "Will you go? "- "Assuredly," said Norah. She was sur- prised, but she did not' show it in tone or manner. Mrs. Sandford, 'on her parts could not restrain a glance of the blanket aston- ishment. For Leslie to send for' her sister after all that' she (Mrs. Sandford) had told her the night before, was inexplicable. "Shall I go at once?" Norah added, turning and page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 A DAUGhTER placing one foot on the lower step of the staircase. "At once, if you will be so kind," Mrs. Middleton answered. "Excuse me that I do not accompany you, but I think Leslie wishes to see you alone." -4- (JLTAPTER XXX. "This anguish will be wearied down, I know; What pang is permanent with man? From the highest As from the vilest thing of every day, lie learns to wean himself: for the strong hours Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost In him. The bloom is vanished from my life." LuSLIE was alone when Norah entered her roam. She was lying quietly on the bed where Mrs. Middleton had insisted upon pla- cing her, and the blinds were closed-for what mocks and jars upon grief like sun- shine? But, as her sister approached, she raised herself, and, looking strangely white and eerie in the green half-light, motioned her to come close. This Norah did. She uttered no words-. what could she say ?-but she came, and, kneeling down by the slender, erect figure, pat her arms around it for the first time since they had known each other. There was some. thing magnetic-something strangely, if Si- lently, full of sympathy-in her ~ouch. It seemed to express more of tenderness and pity than many words could have done. It was at once strong and full of infinite gentle. ness-like her face, Leslie thought, as she turned toward it. Perhaps it was the wist. ful look of that face-the wistful compassion of its eyes - which suddenly unlocked the great fountain of tears that had hitherto been sealed in the girl'a heart. It Is certain that her head sank down on the shoulder which was at once that of a sister and a rival, and, with one mighty sob, the great passion of grief burst forth. Not that flow of relieving tears over which sympathizing friends nod their heads and say, "Poor thing! it will do her good!" but a storm of the soul like unto, that which, in the natural world, uproots forests and lashes seas into fury, leaving desolation and ruin in its track. It was a storm which frightened even Norak by the intensity and abando7z of its passion. Never before had she seen a human heart laid bare in such keen agony, such supreme desolation. It may be said, also, that her amazement was almost asgreat as her concern. Were these tears which flowed in torrents, these sobs which seemed as if they might rend the very breast asun- der, for the man who had not only deceived, but who had been willing to forsake, this woman who trusted him? It was something which the sterner nature could with difficulty comprehend-something which touched and almost awed the girl who, though she could be true as steel to truth, was also hard as iron to falsehood or deception. Nature had given her certain grand traits-this Norah Desmond-little as she may have seemed to show them thus far, but among these traits was nothing half so majestic as the great, generous, unselfish love which Leslie flung like a royal mantle over the corpse of her dead love. She felt this herself, and said as much, when Leslie at last regained something of composure-if composure that could be called which was little more than utter exhaustion- and, lifting her heavy lids, said, faintly: "No doubt, you think this strange; but I-I have forgotten every thing, except that I love him, and he is dead." "Strange!" repeated Norah, and out of her own proud eyes a quick, hot shower fell. Then the girl showed what tender impulses came to her sometimes; she bent her head, and kissed the tear-drenched hand which had dropped from Leslie's eyes. "If this is hu- man love, what must that which is divine be?" she said. "Something greater-oh, surely, far great- er-than we can guess!" said Leslie, throw- ing back her head in order to catch the white gleam of an ivory crucifix hanging against the ti,,ted wall above her bed. "Put you loved him too, Norab," she said, turning with sudden passion to her sister. "Do you mean to tell me that your love is dead-that love can ever die?" "Not love like yours, perhaps," said Norah, gently, "but mine-well, mine may net have been love. God knows. At all events, it died long age-so long ago that I have flO tears, save those of pity, to weep for Arthur Tyndale now." - "I thought mine had died last night," said Leslie; "I thought nothing butpsin was left; but, you see, I was mistaken, And now it does not matter. Whatever he may have been, I love him-that is enough. And he is all mine now-mine to remember, mine to love, mine to weep over! If he had lived, I should never have seen his face more than once again; but, since he is dead, he is mine!" "And anger, resentment-all that you felt last night-are they dead, too?" asked Norah. "Forgive me if I speak of what I should not; but you set me the example." "I sent for yon to speak of it," said Les- lie. "I wanted to tell you howl have changed. Last night seems like a hideous dream; I want to put it away like a dream; I want to think of him only as I knew him before you came. I think he loved me before you came," she said, wistfully. "lie loved you all the time!" cried Norah, passio~ately. "Leslie, as God hears me, I speak the truth in saying that. Re never loved me-no, not even in Germany-I know that now. I never suited him. You did. He felt this, and knew it, even when he let mad- ness carry him away." "Do not let us talk of it," said Leslie. "I did not want to do that. I only wanted to tell you that anger and pride are dead within me, and that I love him-I shall al- ways love him! It is as well, perhaps, that I heard the truth; but I am glad that I did not hear it earlier; I am very glad that no cloud of bitterness ever came between us. There is something of comfort in that." "Is there?" said Norab. She looked at the speaker, wonderingly. Was it true, after all, that - love is not love That alters when its alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove." "Regret for that which is past is worse than useless," she said, in a low voice; "but I am sorry, very sorry, that I told you any thing last night." "Sorry!" repeated Leslie. "Why are you sorry? Would it have been better to let me eat out my heart with doubt, suspi- cion, and jealousy-all those passions which come to us even while we scorn them? Would it have been better to let me think that you were-what you were not? There is nothing to regret. You spoke the truth in your own defense, and, as regards yourself, I remember it, but, as regards Aim-ah, it is less than nothing to me now! He is dead, and I love him. All is said in that." All was said, indeed-all of tenderness, of faithfulness, of love supremely beyond the bounds of passion or of self. Yet, at that moment, something like rebellion rose up in Norah's heart. She thought of the man who had so little deserved this, the silken egotist and epicurean, the careless trifler with all that men of honor hold most sacred; and then she thought with a curious pang of the other, the man of whose devotion Leslie guessed so little, the man who had served her so faithfully, the man who would have been so true if Fate had only granted to Aim the great gift of this loving heart. "Is it always so?" she said to herself with a quick shiver of passionate indignation; and, as she asked the question-which many a sick heart has asked before-Leslie turned and spoke, with a sudden tense sound in her voice, a sudden tense eagerness in her face. "Norah," said she, quickly, and, as she uttered the name, she grasped Norah's slender hands until the latter could have cried out with pain-" Norah, promise me that you will not misunderstand, that you will not think I mean any thing more than I say, when I-I ask you a question." "Ask what you please," answered Norah, "and I promise to answer truly, and to mis- understand nothing." "You will forgive me, I am sure," said Leslie, her eyes seeming to quiver and glow with great dilated pupils in her white face. "Norah, you will not misunderstand, you will not think.-It is this, then: you cannot have forgotten that, when I went to your room last night, you had just come in; ten minutes before, I had stood at my window and seen you cross the lawn - Norab, had you not parted from Arthur then?" "Leslie! "-despite the promise which she had given the moment before, Norah wrenched her hands out of those which held them, and drew back, outraged, indignant, aghast - "After all that I told you last night," she cried, her clear voice thrilling on the hushed atmosphere," can you ask me such a question as that? Do you think that I would bave given another interview to Arthur Tyndale, and an interview at such an hour and such a time? If you can think that of me, you must believe me to be utterly false!" "I do not think that you are false," said OF BOHEMIA. AN IMPORTANT QUESTION. 181 OF BOHEMIA. 181 page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. THE VERDICT. 183 Leslie, simply. "I onlythought that, if you had seen him, you might know something- you might be able to throw some light on this horrible mystery. He was so unlike himself last night-he avoided me so strangely-that the awful thought of suicide has not left my mind for an instant since Aunt Mildred first came to me. You know "-her voice sank here, she shuddered in every fibre .4" that means the death of the soul as well as of the body-Norah, I shall go mad if I am forced to think that I" "There is no reason why you should think it for a moment," said Norah. "From what Mr& Middleton~told me a while ago, there is no question but that he was murdered-there is not one singTh indication of suicide. But when you talk of 'my'knowing any thing, of my being able to throw any light, you do not know what you say," she went on, with some- thing like a gasp in her voice. At 'that mo- ment, a sense of her position came to her like a flash of light., If Leslie opened 'her lips to others, if it were known that she had been in the neighborhood of the bridge at midnight, what might not be the result 1' "I did not see Arthur Tyndale last night," she said, '~after I left the dinner-table." "Yet you were in the grounds," said Les- lie, feverishly. "Norah, if you know any thing, for God's sake do not 'keep it from me!" "Why should you think that I know any thhlg?" asked Norah, more and more dis. quieted. "Leslie, for Heaven's sake, be more reasonable! It is true that I was later in re- turning to the house last night than I ought to have been, but I saw nothing, I heard noth- ing of Arthur Tyndale. 'Do you not believe me? Shall I take that crncifix'and swear to my ignorance on it?" "No," answea~ed Leslie. "I do believe you. But was there no one ?-.--Did you see no trace of any one who might-" Norah's lifted hand stayed the words on her lip. The girl's face had grown white as marble. It Was like marble, also, in the 'ri- gidity which came 'to the beautiful features. For a moment, her heart seemed to stand still. Had she seen any one who might-she could not finish the sentence even to her- self. "I saw no one,"she said, after a minute- her voice was~ hoarse, her lips seemed stiff- "no ~ne whom it would be possible to con- neet with such a crime. The only person whom I saw was one who would have given his life to save Arthur Tyndale; but no' one who-O Leslie, do you not comprehend? Do you not see that, if you speak of this, you may plant the seed of an evil to end-God only knows where I On my faith and honor, I know nothing, I saw nothing, I heard noth- ing of Mr. Tyndale's death-for it seems that a shot which I heard had no connection with it. I went thnre simply and solely to serve you. Leslie, will you repay me by throwing you know not what of suspicion on me or on some one as innocent as I am?" "Throw suspicion on ~ou!~~ repeated Les- lie, stricken aghast. "Norab, are' you mad? How can you misunderstand me so utterly- so horribly? How can you think I meant to ask-to imply-" "I do not think you meant to imply any thing," said Norah, who was trembling in every limb; "but, 0 Leslie, promise me that you will give no hint of this. It would be too terrible if any, one were-promise rue you will say nothing! Remember," cried she, clutching eagerly at a plea which at another time she would never have made, "that my good nameis in your hands; and, oh, promise -promise me!" Her eagerness might have defeated its own end, and wakened the suspicior~ of a suspicious nature; but, farthest in the world from a suspicious nature was Leslie Grahame. The charity which "thinketh no evil" was hers in* superlative degree. Suspect I Sus- pect the sister whose arms were round her, whose limpid eyes met her own-there was nothing which she could not sooner have done. She answered, 'therefore, ~out of the fullness of her heart: "I can promise-I do promise, if you wish it, but I never thought of speaking to any one else. I sent for you in order that I mighty ask you, and you alone. I was tormented by the thought that you might knw something which would tell me - a little - how he died. 0 Norah "- she threw here&If on her sister's shoulder, the agony of tears And sobs broke forth afresh-" it is this which is so unutter- ably terrible! It is never to know how he died, never to have another glance, word, or tone, even in farewell! If I had only' known last night-ah, if I had only known! To have one last good-by to remember, would be better' than this awful silence and strange ness. Oh ! "-with a long, shuddering gasp -" why had I not instinct enough to take that last good-by I" And Norah was not able to say, "It is better so!,' though she knew that for such a blow to cut sharp and clean, is far better than a prolonged agony of foreboding suspense. People talk of "preparation," but in reality there is no such thing. It a surgeon were going to amputate your limb, would you like him to hack at it for an hour, iii order to pre- pare you for the final operation? "It will not kill me," Leslie said, after a while, piteously. "Grief is not merciful enough to kill. No doubt I shall live through the agony as others have done before. But oh, the bitterness, the anguish of thinking that I did not even say, 'Good-night!"' -4---- CHAPTER XXXI. "To-morrow is a day too far To trust, whatever the day be. We know, a little, what we are; But who knows what lie may be? 'Tis God made man, no doubt, not Chance: He made us great and small; But, being made, 'tis Circumstance That finishes us all." Seen an event as the death of Mr. Tyn- dale, of Straft'ord, coukl not do other than make an immediate and very great sensation in his native county. That it became known very soon, and very widely, will not surprise those who have seen how quicklynews passes from lip to lip, and plantation to plantation, in country districts. Mr.-M~,,,ddleton's excited messenger galloping full-speed to Wexford for the coroner, took care to communicate his intelligence to every man, woman, and child, whom he met; and from Wexford it- self the news soon spread in a hundred 'dif- ferent channels. In less than an hour after Mr. Middleton and Max parted on the bridge, the nearest neighbors of the dead man 'made their appearance on the scene; and, after that, friends, acquaintances, relations, and connections, poured in by the score. The coroner, coming over at once-for, when a man of wealth and position has been mur- dered at his own thre~old, officials are not likely to delay, as they are sometimes known to do in eases of inferior humanity-the cor- oner, I say, coming over at once, had no ~dif- faculty in obtaining his jury, and the inquest took place imtnediately. No new facts were elicited. The marks of the struggle on the sward at the side of the bridge, the footprints at the extreme edge of the bank, the broken sod showing so dis- tinctly the very spot from which Arthur had apparently been cast over into the chasm, the slight print of the body on the damp sand where he fell, the evident correspondence of the wound with the shape of the stone around which were the traces of blood-all was so obvious at one glance that the most stupid of the jurors found no difficulty in perceiving and understanding, and no excuse for differ. ence of opinion. liven the physician, attend- ing professioiially-a pompous man, who was in the habit of indulging, on such occasions, in long disquisitions~ interlarded with many high-sounding technical terms, upon the va- rious probabilities and possibilities as to the cause of death-was for once reduced to the necessity of expressing a plain fact in plain words. As soon as the inspection of the locale had been made the body was removed to Strafford, the jury accompanying, more for the conven- ience of holding their deliberation in com- fortable quarters than from any necessity for further examination of the remains. Before twelve o'clock they had brought in their ver- ~dict to the effect that "the deceased Arthur Tyndale came to his death from fracture of the skull, caused by having been violently thrown against the sharp point of a stone by some person or persons unknown." Beyond this verdict, neither the jury it- self, nor the large number of attendant friends, was abJe to advance even a conjecture. Who the assailant and murderer had been, no one was able to imagine. There were none of the usual surmises and opinions afloat. Men seemed for once silenced by the mystery en- veloping the whole affair. That they talked a great deal, no one who has ever seen such an assemblage on such an ocCasion will be able to doubt; but out of all their talk no single suggestion of any importance catne- no single opinion worth a moment's attention was-elicited. From his position in the house, Max had to bear the brunt of much of this talk, and to endure, as be~t he could, a great deal of very useless and aimless questioning. In dealing with these questions, he was more curt than was either exactly courteous or ex- 182 THE VERDICT. 183 page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 A DAUGHTER aetly prudent. Iii fact, he was not only wretched-..full of a grief which can scarcely be exaggerated-but he was horribly at a loss what to do or say. If b& acknowledged his presence in the Rosland grounds the night before, how could he account for this pres- ence without bringing Norah's name into a notoriety which would be fatal to it-a noto- riety from which every instinct of the gentle- man shrank ?-and, if he did sot acknowledge it, his silencewould certainly bear a very sin- gular and suspicious seeming, in case the fact was discovered. It was a position which might have sorely pnzr.led any man. Yet it did not puzzle Max in the sense of leaving him in doubt what to do. There was no hesi- tation about that. He must shield Norah at any cost. But the burden of concealment sat uneasily on him, and he chafed under it. Every time that the pistol was mentioned, he felt an almost irresistible impulse to say, "I heard that shot;" and it required an effort to restrain the words. lie did not forget that he had uttered them to Mr. Middleton on an impulse which he afterward regretted; but he was relieved to observe that Mr. Middleton, who had paid little attention at the time, had apparently suffered the fact to escape entirely from his memory. One fact had, also, entirely escaped Max's memory, or, to speak more correctly, had not yet occurred to it. This was the fact that, in ease of Arthur's dying intestate-which thei'e was every reasonable probability to suppose that he had done-he (Max) succeeded to the Tyndale estate aS heir-at-law, If he did not think of it, however, there were plenty of others who did. Next to* the mysterious death itself~ the question of heirship was the great topic on every tongue. This was natu- ral enough. Such things have been since the world began, and will doubtless be as long as the world endures, unless the socialists get the upper hand, and take care that a man has no estate to leave, no probable last will and testament to be canvassed before the breath has fairly left his lips. Solemn and long. faced as Arthur's friends and kinsmen were, their grief was not so absorbing but that they were able to take a very lively interest in won- dering whether he had ever thought of making a will, or whether the young soldier, and half- foreigner, whom none of them particularly liked, was to fall heir to the rich inherit- a~ce. The day-which chanced to be Sunday- seemed of the length of many days, both at Strafford and Rosl,,nd. At the former place, It was more like a hideous nightmare than any thing else-at least, to Max-servants dis- traught, people thronging everywhere-filling with a strange tide of life the quiet old rooms, the halls, the piazzas-and Arthur lying in state apai~t from all, with the majestic calm of death on his fair, handsome face. Mr. Middleton did not go home to lunch- eon, not because he was not hungry, not be- cause he would not have been heartily glad of a little quiet and rest, but because he shrank with all the proverbial and universal cowardice of his sex from the tears which, he was well aware, reigned supreme at Rosland. Instead of luncheon, dinner was served at Strafford for half a hundred people (more or less), unlimited eating and drinking being a recognized consequence of death in the coun- try districts, where old customs and traditions still linger. After dinner, Mr. Middleton es- caped from one or two inveterate talkers who had clung to him all the morning, and took his meerschaum and himself out on the ter- race where Arthur and Norah had stood when Mrs. Sandford overheard their conversation from the library-window. All was quiet and still there. The old - fashioned flower - gar- den, neglected and overgrown, but still beau- tiful, lay immediately below; the shadows were long, the afternoon was. full of golden serenity and bcauty-it seemed impossible to realize that death was so near, that the mas- ter of all these fair acres could now only claim the allotted six feet of earth to which every child of man is entitled. While Mr.. Middleton sighed and smoked, and smoked and sighed-thinking now of Leslie and now of Arthur-a quiet footstep came round the house and advanced toward him. Being slightly deaf, and not listening besides, he did not hear it, and it was not until an unexpected voice at his side said, "Can I speak to you a moment sir?" that he started and turned. Then he saw that it was Arthur's English servant who had addressed him. "Well, Giles," he said-" I believe your name is Giles, isn't it ?-what do you want?" "I should like to speak to you, if you please, sir," repeated Giles, respectfully. "Very well," was the careless reply, speak away I Though you had better have gone to Captain Tyndale if you have any business on hand." "I couldn't 'ave gone to Captain Tyndale, sirbecause I want to speak to you about Captain Tyndale," responded Giles, solemnly. "About Captain Tyndale-indeed 1" said Mr. Middleton. He looked up, at this, with more attention. What did the fellow mean? The fellow in question looked pale and a tri- fle agitated, but also determined, and ani- mated, perhaps, by that "sense of duty" which plays such an important part in the re- solves of his betters. "I 'ave nothing against Captain Tyndale in any way, sir," he said, meeting Mr. Mid- dletou's glance. "lie 'as been a gentleman to me in every way, and I wishes him no ill in the world; but duty i~ duty, sir, and that I'm sure you'll agree to." "Ceitainly," said Mr. Middleton. "I'll agree to it with pleasure. 'Duty is duty, unquestionably, and should always be per. formed, even if it is not particularly agree- able. But what has your duty to do with Captain Tyndale?" "It 'as this, sir: that I'm of the opinion. that it's my duty to let the gentlemen who 'ave been sitting on Mr. Tyndale's body know certain things what came to my knowledge last night, sir-quite accidental, as one may say." "Facts about his death?" said Mr. Mid~ dleton, startled into interest at once. "Of courRe, if you know any thing abo'it that, it is your duty to tell it immediately. The jury of inquest are done with the case; but, if you know any thing about how Mr. Tyndale came to his death-any thing of real importance- you can go to a magistrate and give your evi- dence on oath. Give it to pie first, however, and let me judge of its value. Now, what is it?" Thus energetically brought to the point, Giles-who, to do him justice, evinced no dis- position to fall back-made a plain state. ment of the facts, with which the reader is already acquainted- of the altercation be- tween the two cousins, which, according to his testimony, had reached the point of per. sonal contest when he surprised them; of Captain Tyndale's leaving the house; of Ar. thur's following him; of the return of the former cdone some time after midnight. Told simply, and, as the man averred, honestly, without any ill-feeling toward Max, the story was even more effective that if it had been freely colored by suspicion or partisanship. "It's my duty to my dead master, sir, to tell what I know, and that's what I know," he said, in conclusion. As for Mr. Middleton, he was amazed, startled, aghast, and yet in- credulous. lie attached very little impor- tance to the account of the quarrel-setting most of it down to the exaggeration which seems inherent in the serving nature-and he did not believe for a moment that Max had borne any part in his cousin's death; but he was certainly confounded by the circumstan- tial evidence thus abruptly brought forward against him. "Good Heavens I" he said to himself. Here was a new element of trouble -an element which he must, if possible, nip in the bud. Hence, after a minute's reflec- tion, he turned to Giles: "It is an excellent thing, and shows your discretion, that you came privately to me with this story," he said, gravely. "I do full justice to your motives, which I am sure are good ones; but you are entirely wrong in your conclusions, and might have done great mischief if you had expressed them publicly. It is impossible to connect Captain Tyndale in any way with his cousin's death, and the events which seem so important to you strike me in the light of mere coincidences. They would have no legal valuelam sure; but they might cause a great deal of scandal and gossip. Therefore, if you wish to serve your master as well as Captain Tyndale, you can best do so by holding your tongue." Giles's face fell a little. He looked disap- pointed and-obstinate. Mr. Middleton saw the first expression: the latter escaped his observation. "I am sure you mean well," he said again, with emphasis. "But this story must go no farther. Understand that. It is a family matter, of which nothing must be said." "I can't help thinking that it's my duty, sir, to let the jury know," said Giles, with some of the obstinacy of his face creeping into his tone, and asserting itself very distinct. ly there. "The jury be hanged, sir, and your duty, too I" said Mr. Middleton, angrily. "Do you mea~z to set your judgment up against misc? The jury have brought in their verdict, and their business is done. Yours is done, too, when you have brought your story and told it to rue. The responsibility of acting or not OF BOHEMIA. A SENSE OF DUTY. 185 185 , OF BOBEMIA. page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 A DAUGHTER acting upon it is my affair No one could have better, reason for desiring to discover the murderer of your master than I have; but, as for crediting an absurdity like this- Again I repeat that your motives are no doubt good, but I don't wish to hear any more of the subject." "Very well, sir," said Giles. ." I am sor- ry to have troubled you. I'll take care not to trouble you again." "The trouble is of no importance,~~ said Mr. Middleton. "You were right to come to me. I only wish you to understand that the matter is to go no further." Giles made nn reply. He took his div. missal very quietly and walked away; but, if Mr. Middleton had seen his face and read its expression rightly, he would not have enter- tained any very sanguine expectations of his letting the matter go no furthers In truth, Giles was as deteFinined as a man could be that, since Mr. Middleton de- clined to act for him, he would act for him. self. A sense of duty had something, per- haps, to do with this resolution, and sincere regard for his master had more; but, most of all, was the important sense of possessing a clew to the mysterious murder which no one else possessed. Holding this clew-this posi- tive knowledge-should he make no use of it? "The man what knows of a crime, and conCeals a crime, as good as commits it," said Giles, solemnly. Where he had learned this scrap of legal or other kind of wisdom, it is impossible to say; but he was fnlly resolved to act upon it. Before taking any further steps, however, he waited until Mr. Middleton left Strafford- which that gentleman did in the course of the afternoon. "I'll go home, take a little rest, and be back to-night," he said, as he 'shook hands with Max at parting. "Not bnt tl~at you'll have enough and more than enough people on your hands." "I suppose so," said Max, who looked as thoroughly broken down as a man with strong fibres and strong nerves ever appears. The excitement and "worry" of the day, 1'ollow- ing close upon the terrible shook of the morn- ing, had tried him almost beyond endurance.'~ Mr. Middleton, who had thought of giving him a hint concerning Giles's story, had enough of kindly disereti~n to hold his tongue when he noticed how pale and woi~n he looked. He left without having said any OF BOHEMIA. thing, and Max, not long afterward, went to his own room and locked himself in-I-to rest, he said. In this way, the coast was left clear for Giles, who, from his position in the back- ground, was keeping his eyes and cars very well open indeed. Having failed so utterly with Mr. Middleton, he made up his mind that the next person to whom he applied should be of an entirely different stamp from that worthy gentleman He had sense ~nougli to know that his story would not be likely to receive much more attention from a magis- trate than it had already received from Mr. Middleton, unless he was supported by some gentleman of influence, and, if possible, a connection of the murdered man. There were several connections of the murdered man in the house, and one, in especial, was of marked influence and position~. This was a distant cousin of Arthur's-one of the dis- agreeable relations concerning whom he had once spoken to Leslie, and with irhom his in- tercourse during life had always been as dis- tant as their relationship. The name of this gentleman was Colville, and, though he was an eminently unpleasant man, he was one of the men who seem to mount in life on the score of their very unpleasantness& Nothing, perhaps, in human nature is more marked than the tendency to allow itself to be brow- beaten and bullied by almost any man who possesses sufficient force of character for the purpose. Force of character Mr. Colville cer- tainly possessed, united to aggressively vio- lent opinions on every possible' subject, and an indomitable obstinacy. He was a man who "owned" half the county, people said. They did not mosn its literal acres, but its flesh- and-blood inhabitants. What of such and such a man? somebody would say, and the t~nswcr would be, "Oh, he belongs to Col- ville!', In other words, Mr. Colville had sue- ; ceded in reducing a certain number of his ellow - citizens to the condition of puppets, who moved with exemplary obedience aS he pulled their strings. With this kind of man there are only two courses open-you arc his subject or his opponent. Arthur Tyndalc had never been a subject, therefore Mr. Col- yule at least had always reckoned him an op- ponent. Of Max this gentleman knew little, but that little was, in his opinion, of a dis- paraging character. Since his arrival at Strafford, his harsh voice had been chiefly heard in loud disapproval of every thing which had been done, and protest against every thing which it was proposed to do. This was the man to whom Giles went with a request for a private interview. It is almost unnecessary to say that Mr. Colville at once acceded to this request. Nothing gratified him more than such an ap- peal. He left a group, whom he was instruct- ing in their social, moral, and political duties, to enter the library, seat himself in Arthur's favorite chair, and bid Giles, in his loud, pa. tronizing voice, "speak out." This Giles, whQ was by no means troubled with diffidence, proceeded to do. He told his story as he had told it to Mr. Middleton, sim- ply and without pretense. Again he laid stress upon the fact that he had "nothing against" Captain Tyndale; It was a pure sense of duty )vhich urged him to make this state- ment, he said; and, indeed, to do Giles justice, he was undoubtedly buoyed up by a conscious- ness of disinterested virtue, which was, in a certain sense, its own reward. After the cold water which Mr Middleton had thrown on his story, it was unquestion- ably gratifying to excite such vivid interest and belief as that which made Mr. Colville's grizzly hairs stand on end. No thought of incredulity caine to him. Amazement, cer- tainly-horror, perhaps-disgust at his own obtuseness in a measure; but not incredulity in the least degree. "Good God!" he said, when he found voice to speak at last. "Who would have believed it? Here, under my very eyes, and nobody to suspect such a thing for a minute! Even I-I never tothink of it! You should have spoken to me before," he said, turning sternly upon Giles. "What on earth do you mean by letting the whole day pass, and wait- ing until sunset, before you open your mouth to give such important information as this?" "I did speak before, sir," said Giles, who was deeply offended by such a mode of ad- dress. "I went to Mr. Middleton, but he didn't Seem' to think the story worth any at- tention." "Mr. Middleton!" repeated Mr. Colville, in a tone of inexpressible scorn. "What the devil put it into your head to go to Mr. Mid. dleton? If you had wanted to find an incom- petent person, you couldn't have done better; And pray what did'Mr. Middleton say?" "He said I had better hold my tongue, MR. COLVILL E AND GILES. 187 sir.-.-that the story would only make scandal and gossip-but I had a sense of duty, sir; and I couldn't think but what I ought to state the facts." "hold your tongue! Heaven and earth!" said Mr. Colville, his gray hair bristling more and move on his scantily-covered head -.--" I never heard any thing to equal it!" he said, with indignation rising hotter. "That any man, with the least sense of duty, should en- deavor or desire to conceal such' a crime-it is almostt incredible! To conceal a crime is to connive at it!', said he, bending his bushy. gray eyebrows and small gray eyes in a terrify. ingmanner upon poor Giles. "It isagood thing that you did not take Mr. Middleton's most extraordinary-I may even say, most criminal -advice! It is a good thing that you came to me. But it would have been a better thing if you had not wasted time, if you had come tomcat once!" "I'm sorry I did not, sir," said Giles, over- awed, as Mr. Colville mostly did overawe those with whom he came in contact. "But I knew Mr. Middleton best, and Mr. Tyndale was en- gaged to his niece, and so I thought-" "There is no time to waste in' excuses,' said Mr. Colville, waving his hand. "You should have known my position in the family sufficiently to come to me at once. Now, go and find Mr. Armistead and tell him that I wish to see him-here in the library. Hold yourself in readiness to ride 'to Wexfor~l with him in th~ course of the next hour, and take care that you don't open your lips, so that a word of this comes to Captain Tyndale's ears." "I shall take care, sir," said Giles, meekly. He went in search of Mr. Armistead-an- other connection of the family, and loyal vas- sal to Mr. Colville-whom he found on the front portico, listening to a voluble gentleman, who was proving, to his own entire satisfac- tion, that Arthur's death' had been purely ac- cidental. "Yes," Mr. Armistead was saying, meditatively, "I quite agree with you;" when Giles summoned him away to the presence of his dictatorial chief. He was a pleasant, gentle. manly man, of mild temper and indolent hab- its, who found that it saved trouble tO be gov~ erned by his wife at home and by Mr. Colville abroad - a man whose abilities might have' helped him to a very fair position in the world, if he had not chanced early in life upon the misfortune ofmarrying an heiress. That fact had crushed all active manhood out of, him, page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. THE CAPTAIN'S ARREST. 189 as it has crushed it out of many another man. "I suppose I ma~ be allowed a word about the management of the property, Mr. Artuistead, since Ibrought it into the fami- ly!" his sharp - tongued better - half would say. "As many words as you please, my dear," Mr. Armistead would answer, taking up his gun -hunting and shooting were the only things in which he really felt an interest -and walking away. This was the man whom Mr. Colville summoned to hIs privy council, and who strolled into the library with his hands in his pockets, and an air of exceeding listlessness on his face. The listlessness died away, however, when he saw the bent brows and bristling hairs which made Mr. Colville's visage a thing of terror and dismay. "What is the matter, Colville?" he cried. "What the deuce has happened?" Mr. Colville frowned majestically. He was swelling with a sense of ~gnified im- portance, on which the other's free-and-easy question jarred. "What has happened," he said, "is not a subject for levity. Even ignorant levity may sometimes be very ill-advised." "I was not aware that I had displayed any particular levity," said Mr. Armistead, care- lessly. "I only asked what had happened; a man may do that without giving offense, I suppose." "Nothing has happened-at least nothing new," said Mr Colville, after a minute - he disliked few things more than to answer a question, or enter upon an explanation; but sometimes, as in the present instance, he was obliged to do it-" I have only received posi- tive information touching the murder of poor Tyndale." "The devil you have !~" cried Mr. Armi- stead, excited for once. "By George! Why, Denton has just been trying to prove th~tt he was killed accidentally." "Denton's a fool I" said Mr. ColvilIe, sharply. And people who waste their time listening to him are not much better! I knew, of course - any man with eyes must have known - that Tyndale had been mur- dered; but I confess that I did not think of attaching suspicion to the very man whom a child might have suspected-the man who, in all probability will profit so largely ~nd ex- clusively by his death." Mr. Armistead had sat lazily down in a Qhair after the rebuke to his levity; he sprang now to his feet, as completely astonished, as thoroughly startled, as a man could be ira- agined. "Great Heaven 1" he said. Do you mean Max Tyndale? Is it possible you suspect Max Tyndale 1"' "I did not say that I suspected any thing, but that I kneu' the truth," responded Mr. Colville, sharply If Giles was not a parti- san, he eertainl~ was. There are some people to whom an impartial frame of mind, even for five minutes, is impossible. "I suppose you have no objection to let- ting me hear what your grounds of belief are?" said Mr. Armistead, sitting down again. "Since you are, in a measure, a connection of the family "-Mrs. Armistead had been a Miss Colville, and a forty-second cousin of Arthur-" I sent for you for- that purpose," said Mr. Colville, magisterially. He then re- capitulated what Giles had told him-a rela- tion which, as it may be imagined, took lib- eral color from his own- belief, and therefore impressed his hearer even more strongly than it would otherwise have done. The train of circumstances was clear enough, however, to have impressed any one-especially a man of indolent mind, who usually liked his thinking done for him. When the story was ended, Mr. Armistead agreed that the events were "suspicious-very suspicious, indeed!" but he ventured to add a hope that tl~e other did not mean to "make them public.'~ "Not make them public!" repeatedly Mr. Colville, the blood rushing into his face, an- grily, his hairs bristling again. "I shall cer- tainly see that the evidence is brought before a magistrate as soon as possible, if that is what you call making it public! I have a sense of duty, sir; and to allow a murderer to go scot - free, because his apprehension might reflect discredit on the family, is some. thing that I have no idea of doing." "Well, what the deuce do you want with me?" said Mr. Armistead, rather more snap. pishly than he usually spoke. "You are a magistrate: you can take the matter in hand, and hear the evidence, if you've a mind to." "I ant a magistrate, it is true," said Mr. Colville; "but, as a member of the family, I should prefer that the ease was not brought before me. I want you, therefore, to take this servant and go over to Wcxford. Let him give his evidence before Purcell; and see that the warrant is issued as soon as possible, and sent out here." "I'll be d.-d if Idol" saidMr. Armistead, with a fiat rebellion for which his chief was wholly unprepared. "I don't call this the conduct of one gentleman to another gentle- man. Before taking the evidence of a servant against Captain Tyndale, it is as little as you could do to send for him and give him a chance to speak for himself." "A chance to saddle a horse and leave the cotintry, more likely!" said the other, with angry contempt. "One gentleman to another gentleman, indeed! I am not intending to treat Captain Tyndale as a gentleman, but as a criminal-which he certainly is. If you don't choose to take the servant to Wexford, however, you have only to say so, and I'll take him myself!" "Oh,,I suppose I can take him," said Mr. Armistead, apparently thinking better of his resolution. "It is not I who have to give the evidence. But you see how late it is !-It strikes me it is scarcely worth while to go this evening. Won't to-morrow morning an- swer as well?" "It will not answer at all," said Mr. Col- yule, emphatically. "There has been too much delay already; I'll not take the respon- sibility of an hour longer on my shoulders. If Giles had not been fool enough to go to Middleton, instead of coming to me, there would not have been the delay there has been!" -4---- CHAPTER XXXII. "Most learned Judge f-A sentence; come, prepare." NoTwrrnsrAuDIua Mr. Colville's anxiety for haste, it was not until the next morning that a constable arrived at Strafford with a warrant of arrest for Captain Tyndale. His ap- pearance fell like a thunder-bolt on the assem- bled party~ To chronicle all the disjointed exclamations, and all the Babel of discussion which ensued, would be to try the patience of the most long-suffering reader, and would, moreover, serve no purpose in advancing the history of events. Max himself, after the first shock, was perhaps (with the exception of Mr. Colville, and one or two of his most intimate subjects), the person least taken by surprise. Not that he had definitely expected such a result as this, but he had been so thoroughly conscious all the day before of the false position in which h~s reticence was, placing him, that instinct may he said to have warned him of its consequences. Public sen- timent, generally, was one of disapproving surprise. It was an underhanded piece of business, men said, who, whatever their other faults, believed in, and, as a rule, stood up for; fair play. Only two or three of Mr. Colville'§ immediate friends were found to support the measure. "Wait until you hear the evidence against him!" they said, nodding sagely. As for Mr. Middleton, he was overcome with indignation when he heard the news. He blamed himself severely thnt he had not warned Max of the story which Giles had brought to him. "I ought to have dorm that at once I "' he thought, as he went in search of the young man. He found him in his own room, dressing, having lain down to snatch a little sleep in the latter part of the night, and having been ruthlessly waked on the appearance of the constable and the warrant. If he had lost his composure in the first shock, he had by this time regained it, for he turned to Mr. Middleton with a coolness which excited that gentleman's surprise and admiration-though an under-current of emotion seemed vibrating through his voice when he spoke. "I suppose you have heard what has hap. pened," he said. "What do you think of it?" "I think that I am more sorry than I can say that I did not warn you yesterday that your cousin's servant came to me with a story which I suppose he has since carried to more credulous or malicious ears, and of which this is the result," Mr. Middleton answered. "I take it for granted that you know what I mean. Something about a difficulty between Arthur and yourself." "Giles!" said Max, starting. A flash of light seemed to come to him. "So it was Giles, was it? I did not think of that. And you say he came to you with the story?" "He came to me yesterday afternoon, and, when he found that I paid no attention to it, he went-so I judge from what I hear down- stairs-to Colville. You know Colville. You won't be surprised to learn that he is at the bottom of the whole affair." "No, I am not surprised," said Max; but he stood for a minute apparently lost in thought. "I mean I am not surprised that page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. MAX'S DEFENSE. Mr. Colvihle, who seems to dislike me, should be ready to believe any report to my dis- credit," he added, after a while; "but how lie or any one else could think lhi8-"' " CoIville dislikes every one who does not belong to him body and soul," saidMr. Mid- dleton, dryly; "but you need not go far to find a reason why he dislikes you particularly, or why he is ready enough to credit even this- you are the heir-at-law of the Tyndale estate." "Good God!" said Max, with uncontrol- lable agitttion, "but that. makes it all the more terrible. How can any man believe that I-the heir-at-law, as you say-could have laid violent hands on Arthur; that I could have left him dead and come back to sleep under his roof; that I could- Great Heaven! is it for tlzcd they suspect me of murdering him?" demanded he, turning upon Mr. Middleton, with passion and horror min- gled in his face. "It is very likely they have not stopped to think about it at all,"' answered the other. "A sort of frenzy seizes people at such times, you know;. a fever of suspicion and doubt. Colville is a sort of moral bull-dog, moreover, and there is no more use in appealing to his sense of reason than there would be in ap- pealing to a deaf man's ears, or a blind man's sight. The magistrate who issued this war- rant-Purcell, of Wexford-is a blockhead also, a~d very much under his thumb. V~ou can scarcely appreciate the nature of the charge better than I do," he went on quickly; "bnt, surely it will not cost you much trouble to prove the groundless folly-I may say the in- famous outrage -of it!" "I cannot tell," said Max. "' It ought to be easy; but with such men as you describe, who knows? One or two points may tell against me." He drew on his coat as he spoke, then paused a moment; his bronzed face grew paler than it had been before, his eyes were cast down, his hand went as usual to the long ends of his mustache. "Who knows 1"' he repeated. "There are one or two things which it is impossible to explain 1 -the cause of the dispute between Arthur and myself, for instance." ' "Was it a serious dispute?" asked Mr. Middleton, anxiously. "You will excuse the question, but I should like to know." He was interrupted by a tap at the door. "Ready,' sir?" asked the constable's voice ~ on the outside. ' "Yes, I am ready," answered Max.-" I hope I shall be able to clear myself," he said, turning to Mr. Middleton; "but, if not-" emergency," interrupted that gentleman. "I "I ani going along to stand by you in any ordered the dog-cart when I came up, and we'll drive over, settle that insolent English rascal, and bring Purcell to his senses, before breakfast." "You arc very kind," said Max, grate- fully; but it is likely that he had his own reasons for not feeling quite so sure of'ae- comphishing these desirable results, either before breakfast or after, as Mr. Middleton did. When they went down-stairs, they found a number of horses and buggies before the door, and a number of men assembled in the hall and portico. The whole clan were evi- dently intending t& follow the prisoner into Weaford. There did not breathe one man with soul so dead that he was not eager to hear the examination. Indeed, the sensation of to-day almost paled the sensation of yes- terday, and the living Tyndale suddenly be- came of infinitely more importance than the dead one, even in the eyes of the friends and kinsmen who had gathered to do the latter such scant honor and reverence as it is in the power of life to pay unto death. When Max appeared, there was a movement which was almost unanimous toward him~ Men pressed forward to shake hie hsnd warmly, to express indignation, sympathy, and hearty wishes for his speedy release.' He thanked them briefly, and then, accompanied by Mr. Middleton, and followed by 'the constable-who looked de- cidedly sheepish, as if he felt rather ashamed of his part of the business-he walked to the dog-cart and sprang in. They drove oiY rapidly, and with various degrees of speed avery man followed-leaving only Arthur be. hind, wtih the calm serenity of hi~ face un- mified by this paltry temult of life. Mr. Colville had gone on to Wexford con- dderably in advance of this, and, on entering he justice-room, neither Max nor Mr. Mid- hleton wa~ surprised to find him in consulta- :ion with a tall, gaunt, gray-whiskered gen- leman who was plainly thernagistrate. They rere both sitting behind a table on which lay greasy book and some papers. Giles,' look- ag rather uncomfortable, was standing by a window not far off, and had watched Captain ~yndale's arrival. Mr Armistead was not if visible; but a dozen or so other men were lounging about, or gathered into knots talk. ing. Some of them were from the country others belonged to the village. These last stared with undisguised interest and curiosity at the prisoner, who was also the heir, as he en. tered. Mr. Middleton and himself were talk. lag as they easn~ in, but they broke off before any one could catch the subject of their con- versation, and the former gentleman, advan- cing up the room, addressed one of the minis. ters of justice very unceremoniously. "Well, Purcell," he said, "here is Captain Tyndale come to see what the devil you mean by such a confounded piece of folly as this." "lam glad to make Captain Tyndale's ac- quaintance," said Mr. Purcell, bowing gravely, "though I should have preferred making it under other circumstances. I shall be happy if he is able to prove that the charge brought against ~him is unfounded-but I am sure you are aware, sir" (turning to Max, who also had advanced), "that a magistrate is bound to do his duty, and that it would have been impos- sible for me to dismiss without examination such a grave chsyge as this which is brought against you." "Since the charge has been brought, it is of course your duty to examine it," said Max. "You will excuse me if I say that the sooner that is done the better. I cannot defend my. self until I know what is alleged against me.t' He sat down as be spoke. Every one- present noticed the perfect coolness of his manner. Yet he knew well what was coming. It came at once, for there was no delay in the proceedings. Mr. Purcell may or may not have been a blockhead, but he was at least a good magistrate-a man who did not waste time, who knew the law passably well, and who had a mind sufficiently clear to seize the strong points of evidence. Giles, being sum- moned, testified on oath to the circumstances which he had already related-to the "diffi- culty" between the two cousins, to Arthur's angry words and excited manner after Captain Tyndale had left the house, to his having seen him follow his cousin, and to having heard Max return after midnight-alone. When he finished, Mr. Purcell turned to Captain Tyn- dale and asked what he had to say in reply to this strong array of cia~cumstantial evidence. The young man rose to his feet with no trace of nervousness in his manner, though his dark eyes were glowing in his pale face. " With your permission, sir," he said, quietly, "I will answer by putting a question or two to this witness, who seems anxious to afford some material for gossiping wonder in a case so mysterious as the one under con- sideration-though I am sorry to be obliged to bring forward a fact which otherwise need not have transpired." Then, turning to Giles, he continued in the same tone: "What condition was your master in at the time of the 'difficulty~ you have just de- scribed?" Giles's face had fallen during the first part of the foregoing sentence. Perhaps he had scarcely been aware how much the motive attributed to him had influenced his course of action, until the idea was thus put into words. It fell still more, however, at the concluding interrogation. He colored, cleared his throat, hesitated-but Captain Tyndale's keen eye was on him; he answered at last, stammer- ingly: was a little-he 'ad been drinking 'a little too much, sir." "A little too much! Was that all ?" The man looked down; his face answered the question plainly enough, but his inquisi- tor demanded words. "Well?" he said. "He--lie wasn't at himself, sir." Max turned to the magistrate. "As I said before, I very much regret be- ing compelled to bring forward a fact which I shouldY~t have mentioned to any one-much less publicly-if the necessity had not been forced upon me in this way. I will now make a plain statement of what has just been pre- sented in a very distorted light: "On Saturday night, at a dinner-party at Mr. Middleton's, wishing to speak to my cous- in, I looked through the company, both in the house and on the lawn, without finding him. I had observed at dinner that he was drinking toO much-and afterward I noticed that his face and manner both showed the effects of this to one familiar with him-though, to gn ordinary observer, he was at that time appar- ently sober. As Icould neither see norhear any thing of him, when I was searching for him, I thought it likely he had become conscious that the wine he had taken was affecting him, and had therefore gone home, and I followed, intending to see him for a few minutes, and then return again to Rosland-~-as I afterward did-it being still early in the evening. V 190 191 page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 - A DAUGHTER OF BOH'~MIA. "I was surprised and concerned to find Arthur in the dining-room, with wine and brandy before him. He had been drinking deeply since his return borne, and it soon be. came evident to me that he was not in a con- dition to speak rationally on any subject. I made one or two efforts to talk to him; that is, to induce him to listen to what I had to say; but, as he was perfectly impracticable -being, in fact, too much under the influence of wine to know what he was doing or saying -I rose to go. With the folly of a drunken man, he began to complain of the manner in which I was treating him, and placed himself before me to prevent my leaving the room. I had just put him aside-quietly, of course- and turned to the door to go, when it opened, and this servant entered the room. He ac- counted for the intrusion by an excuse which satisfied me at the time as reasonable enough; though his subsequent conduct proves that he must have been watching about for some mis- chief-making purpose." "No, sir I" here interposed Giles, in a half-deprecating, half-indignant tone. "If you will allow me to speak, sir-i"' he added, and, Ma; not objecting, he went on, with some excitement of manner: "It was just as I told you at the time, sir. I 'ad no wish, and I haven'tt any now to make mischief, but I didn't know w~iat to make of there being a light in the dining-room that time o' night-" "Very well," interrupted Captain Tyndale, cutting short the man's flow of words, and again addressing the magistrate. "I left the room and strolled back to Rosland. Finding it later than I had thought, I did not go into the house, but, after smoking in the grounds for a while, returned to Strafford, and imme- diately went to bed. The next morning at five o'clock I was awakened by my cousin's servatit, with the information that his master had iiot returned home the night before. Though rather surprised to hear this, I was not alarmed wntil I suddenly remembered a oireurnstance which had occurred while I was in the Rosland grounds the last time; the rec- ollection of which made me a little uneasy. This was the sound of a pistol-shot in the di- rection of the bridge. I had attached no im- portance to it at the time; but now the more I thought of Arthur's non-appearance, the more strange it seemed, and I grew very un- comfortable, not to say alarmed, at the idea that there might be some connection between the shot I had heard and his absence. Consid- ering his condition when I parted from him, there wafi no telling what he might have done -or where he might have gone. I thought it not improbable that he had started to go to Rosland, stopped by the way, been overcome by sleep, and spent the night in the open air. At all events, I could not leave Strafford-as I was intending to do that morning, to take the train at Wexford-without ascertaining what had become of him; and sol walked toward the bridge, purposing, if I did not find him asleep somewhere by the way, to go on to Rosland and see if he were there. Before I reached the bridge I met Lewis, one of the Strafford ser- vants, who Ilad just discovered his body2' His voice sank at the last words: some- thing of the grief and horror he had felt at the moment to which he alluded, vibrated through its tones, as every one present could not but observe; and the short pause which he made was unbroken. After an instant, he resumed: "These are the circumstances, which have been distorted and exaggerated by my cousin a servant into what you were pleased to call 'a grave charge,' sir." Again there was a short pause: Mr. Pur- cell hesitated, and even looked slightly em- barrassed. He had opened his lips to speak, but to what effect did not appear; since at this instant Mr, Colville, who sat close beside him, and who had been moving impatiently in his chair, leaned over, and said a few words in his ear. The magistrate's face cleared. "You say you heard a pistol-shot while in the Rosland grounds. Did the rest of the company, who were in the grounds at the same time, hear this shot also? and did no one express surprise st such a circumstance, or think of ascertaining what it meant 1"' "As I mentioned before, I found it later than I was aware it was when I looked at my watch shortly after entering the Rosland grounds; and, supposing probably that Mrs. Middleton's guests were dispersing by that time, I did not go on to the house, but turned aside and sat down on the steps of a summer- house, smoking for a while; after which I re- turned to Strafford." "You did not see any one at Rosland, then? You cannot call upon any witnesses to testify as to your presence there?" "I cannot produce any witnesses," an- swered Max, quietly. U EVASIVE ANSWERS. Mr. Purcell shook his head. "That unfortunate," he said;. adding, in a ton which was equally compounded of gentle manly apology and magisterial pomposity "All men are ejual in the eye of the law, am in legal affairs the same formality is require in all cases. However unimpeachable th character of a man may be, these formalities~ are demanded and must be complied with. am sorry to say, Captain Tyndale, that th fact of your not being able to bring testi. mony to prove your presence at Rosland, makes a rather strong point against you-in law. The witness there "-he pointed to Giles-"testifies on oath that on Saturday night-the night on which Mr. Tyndale came to his death-there occurred a difficulty amounting to a personal collision between the deceased and yourself; that you left the house shortly afterward, and were followed almost immediately by the deceased; that he -the witness-heard you return after mid- night alone. You say yourself that you entered the grounds of Rosland, but did not go to the house, or see any of the company assembled; that you turned aside to a summer-house, and, after some time spent in smoking, re- turned to Strafford and went to bed. You say, also, that, while in th~ grounds at Rosland, you heard a pistol-shot in the direction of the bridge; that you attached no importance to the circumstance at the time, but the next morning, when informed that deceased had' not returned home the night before, you rec- ollected this shot with some uneasiness, and walked toward the bridge, the direction from which it had sounded. In the investigation, which took place before the coroner's jury, did you mention the factof your having heard this shot?" "I did not," said Max. "There seemed no necessity for doing so; it being evident that the wound which caused my cousin's death could not have been made by a pistol- ball." "I think I have understood that a pistol was picked up upon the ground ?~" "You have understood correctly. A pistol, belonging to my cousin himself, was found by me ~ipon the spot. Mr. Middleton was present when I discovered itandlmen. toned to him that I had heard a shot the night before.-You remember this, I suppose, Mr. Middleton?" '~ Yes, certainly," answered that gentle- 13 193 a man, who was overcome with indignation at e the manner in which the magistrate was pro. - exceeding. "Did it not occur to you, Captain Tyn- I dale, that the shot might have been fired by I the deceased, as it was his pistol?" "I did not, and do not yet, know what to think about either the pistol or the shot," answered Captain Tyndale, who was as thor- oughly aware as the magistrate, or any one present, that the evasive answers he was giv.~ ing could not but make another "rather strong point in law," against him. But what could he do? Compromise Norah he would not-that he was determined-let whatmight happen to himself. And, thanks to his sound nerves and habitual self-control, he succeeded in maintaining a composure and case of man- ner which went far to counterbalance the effect of his seemingly suspicious reticence- not only in the opinion of the by-standers, but in that of Mr. Purcell himself. Mr. Col- ville, however, was not to be hoodwinked by this "military effrontery," as, in his own mind, he pronounced Max's self-possession to to be. Once more he leaned close to the ear of the presiding magnate, and uttered a few sen- tences in a low but sharp and vehement tone. And once more Mr. Purcell, thus primed and loaded by his leader, returned to the charge. "You mentioned, I think, Captain Tyn. dale, that it had been your intention to leave Strafford on the morning following the mur- der. Was this intended departure caused by the altercation which had occurred between Mr. Tyndale and yourself?" At this question there was a sudden flicker of haughty light in Max's dark eyes-.-- his brows contracted sternly for an instant. But he recovered himself almost immediately, and~ replied as readily as ever, though perhaps there was a shade of curtness now in his tone: "I cannot conceive that it rests within the province of the law to inquire into a matter entirely personal to myself. My motives for leaving Strafford are aside from any question involved in the present investigation. The fact of my having made my arrangements to go, may be another thing; and this factican prove by my cousin s servant there." Turn- ing to giles-" I presume you have not for- gotten what I said to you in the hall on Satur- day night, just before I went out?" he in- quired. page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 A DAUGHTER "No, sir," answered Giles; "I remem- ber very well what you said. You ordered me to tell Anderson to have some conveyance at the door to take you to Wexford in the morning in time for the train; and to be snre to wake you early enough for you to get off." "You decline, then, Captain Tyndale, to answer my question as to whether there was any connection between your intended depart. ure from Strafford, and the difficulty which you admit existed with Mr. Tyndale I"' said Mr. rurcell, in a much more magisterial tone than he had spoken before. "I decline to answer a question which seems to ~me irrelevant," was the reply. "I must suppose, sir," said the magistrate, with increasing coldness, "that you are not well acquainted with the laws in force here-. I understand you are a foreigner - or you would be aware that any circumstance, bear. ing the most remote connection with a case of this kind, and likely to throw light upon it, is legitimate subject of legal investigation. It is in virtue of this fact that I, must request you to explain the nature and subject of your conversation with Mr. Tyndale on the night before his death." "That I absolutely decline to do," an7 swered Max, quietly, but very decidedly. "I can only say that it related to a matter of business about which my cousin had con- sulted me, and which did not in the slightest * degree concern myself." There was a pause. Then the magistrate said: "I recommend you to reconsider your reply." "That is impossible," the young man an- swered in the same tone as before." * "In that case I have no further questions to ask," said the magistrate, after exchang- ing a few words with his coadjutor. "It - only remains for me to perform what, I assure you, ails, is a ~e~y painful duty." With this preface, he proceeded to reca- pitulate the evidence in the case; beginning with the charge lirought against Captain Tyn- dale by Giles, pointing out the train of cir- cumstantial evidence upon which this charge rested; dwelling on Captain Tyndale's in~ * ability to produce any. proofs, or make any explanations to exonerate himself from sus- picion; and ending by committing him to prison to aWait the action of the grand-jury. At~this stage of the proceedings the jus. OF BOHEMIA. tice-room became a scene of no small com- motion and excitement. There was a general murmur of dissatisfaction; a large majority of those present having already arrayed them. selves as partisans on the side of Max. It was true that they knew him very slightly- many of them not at all. But there was something in the man himself which excited confidence and sympathy; while the fact of his being a stranger added to the latter feel- ing. As for Mr. Middleton, his wrath ex- ploded in a burst of passionate invective against the magistrate and his "wire-puller," as he denominated Mr. Colville, the like of which he had not been guilty of indulging for years. There is nothing more true than that it is goed-natured, equable-tempered people who are always most violent when once roused. This gentleman, usually so mild and cour- teous, was, upon the present occasion, so much the reverse; and gave the two offenders in question the benefit of hearing a few home truths in such very plain and emphatic lan- guage that several of the other gentlemen present deemed it prudent to interfere as pa- cificators, seeing that the said offenders (Mr. Colville in especial) began to swell and red- den with a passion which threatened to emu- late that by which it had been excited. Max himself-who, whatever were his feelings, still retained an unruffled demeanor out- wardly-was one of the principal of these peace-makers. "For Heaven's sake, my dear sir, don't let me be the cause pf your in- volving yourself in a difficulty with two such men as theac I', he said, earnestly, in a low tone. "Come, ct~me, Middleton, you're rather too hard on Purcell I Hecan't help being a fool, you know!" whispered a friend into his left ear. "You'll do a good deal more harm than good," said another friend, with a warn- ing shake of the head, and knitting of the brows. "At this rate of going on, you'll not be allowed to give bail, as I suppose you want to do," cried a third into his right ear. This last significant suggestion had an immediate effect in restoring Mr. Middleton to something like his accustomed manner. As a matter of policy, he even tried to smooth matters over a little for the wounded amour propre of Mr. Purcell, remonstrating still with that gentleman, but in a different tone. But remonstrances, representations, persua- sion, all proved vain; the magistrate was too deeply offended by some of the stinging I MR. MIDDLETON'S FRIENDSHIP. 195 truths he had just been obliged to listen to, and Purcell held up to universal scorn as the and which had been heard and appreciated, fools which he esteemed them. Still, he could as he knew very well, by the crowd around, not but confess that Max's obstinate silence not to be glad of an opportunity for annoy. was calculated to prejudice the public mind ing his assailant in turn. He was obstinately against him. "He must have seen somebody deaf to all appeal from his first decision, in my grounds," the puzzled gentleman "Well," said Mr. Middleton, at last, "I thought. "If he would only say who it was suppose it is useless to say any thing more-" -if he would only call a witness-the whole "Quite so," interrupted the magistrate, charge must fall to the ground." dryly. "Constable__" . Full of these thoughts, he turned his "But of course you'll take bail," con- horse's head into the gates of Rosland. He tinted Mr. Middleton, quickly. "What shall knew that he could not remain there long the amount be?" that since Max was under arrest - the fact "Excuse me," said the magistrate, stiffly came back upon him now and then with the (so effectually had his spleen been roused actual sensation of a physical shock-the ar- that he needed no prompting or bolstering rangements with regard to the funeral would from his wire-puller now), "I cannot take devolve upon him; but it was impossible to bail in this case." resist the temptation for a little rest; besides And to this resolution he adhered, which, he knew that no one would be so well able as himself to break the news of this ad- ditional misfortune to 'his wife. As he en- CHAPTER xxx~. tered the gates, he noticed the fresh track of carriage - wheels (there had been a rain the "The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree night before) curving in from the road. This I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed, fact seriously disquieted him, for he feared 'I should have known what fruit would sprIng that there might be visitors at the house, from such a seed." and, in that case, he unhesitatingly made up Mu. MIDDLETON, having shaken hands with his mind to go back to Strafford at once. Max, and cheerfully advised him to keep up Any thing was better than to be forced to his spirits, took his way home, with his own hear and to answer a stream of gossiping spirits reduced to as l~w an ebb as could questions. On this point, however, he was well be the case with a gentleman who, hay- rei~ssured when he reached the door. ing reached mature years, knew better than to "What is the meaning of this?" he said allow other people's troubles to annoy him in to the servant who appeared, pointing with any treat degree. Re was a man who liked his whip to the tracks so clearly apparent on to be comfortable, however, and he could net the damp gravel. "Is anybody here?" help thinking that matters were in any thing "Nobody at all, sir," was the answer. but .a comfortable condition. There was not "That is, I mean no company. Mrs. Sand- only poor Leslie, for whom the stout fibres of ford and Miss Desmond's here. Mistis and his heart ached, but there was Arthur cut off Miss Leslie's gone over to Strafford, in the in the very flower of his youth, and Max in a carriage, sir." position which was decidedly unpleasant, to "Gone over to Strafford-is it possible! say the least of it. Then he fell to consider- When did they go?" ing why Max was so remarkably reticent "'Bout an hour ago, sir, I reckon." with regard to that interval of time at mid- "Did you hear when they expected to be night which he had affirmed that he had spent back?" in the grounds of Rosland. Some men-men "No, sir, I ~ of the Colville stamp-would have regarded "Hum!" Mr. Middleton paused and this reticence as very suspicious; but Mr. looked meditatively at the sPeaker. He had Middleton had more knowledge of character, no intention of going to Strafford now-on the His belief in Max's innocence was unshaken contrary, he was very glad that he chanced -indeed, it was only natural that it should to be away-and an idea struck him that, have been deepened by that partisanship into since he was at Rosland, be might inquire which men are so readi1~ beguiled, and by the whether, by any chance, anybody had seen natural and excusable desire to see Colville Max the night before, though Max was un- * page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 A DAUGHTER able to say whether or not he ha~I seen any one else. "You say Miss Desmond is in the house?" "Yes, sir." Alighting, he walked into the silent house, I over which an unseen pall of grief seemed to hang. Singularly enough, this aspect struck himmuch more here tl~an at Strafford. Per- haps the cause of this rested in the fact that, at Strafford, there were~ no women, only men, who, with the exception of Max and himself, felt little affection, and nothing more than conventional regret, for the dead. Here there had been sighs, and sobs, and bitter tears. Albeit the farthest in the world from a fanci. ful man, Mr. Wddleton felt them in the very atmosphere. He shoo~ Jiis head mournfully as he walked into the fmpty sitting-room and rang the bell. "Tel~ Miss Desmond that I would like to speak td her," he said to Maria, who answered it. Having sent this message, he sat down and fanned himself, hoping devoutly that Mrs. Sandford might not flutter down upon him from some unforeseen nook or corner. He might have spared hisfears. Mrs. Sand- ford was at that moment in her room busily engaged in writing an account of all that had occurred to her friends in Alton. Little as Mr. Middleton thought it, the last sensational item had reached Rosland, ar~d was at that moment being chronicled as fast as pen could go, with many double underscoring and ex- clamation - points. The fair correspondent had that morning debate(1 whether she would not pack her trunk, and bid adieu to a house which had become any thing save an abode of gayety; but a keen desire to ~ee "the end of the matter" had for once prevailed over ennui. Now she had her reward. Now it would be her privilege to send this second item of intelligence like an electric shock into the circles of Alton society. "You can imagine the state of painful excitement, the terrible nervoue distress that I am in," she wrote, "but, of course, it is impossible for me to think of leaving dear Mrs. Middleton and our poor darling Leslie, both of whom seem to lean upon me." Mr. Middleton had not long to wait for Norah. He had scarcely settled himself and begun to appreciate the coolness and quiet of the room, when a step sounded in the, hall and she stood before him in the open door. As he rose she advanced, and he had time to OF BOHEMIA. notice as she crossed the floor how strangely pale she looked-not nervous, not as if she had b~en weeping, not overwrought or hys- terical, but simply devoid of all color, and consequently wholly unlike herself in appear- ance. "Is it true?" she said, as she came near him~-speaking before he could utter a word -"is it true that Captain Tyndale has been arrested on a charge of-of having caused his cousin's' death?" "I am sorry to say that it is quite true," Mr. Middleton answered, surprised at being met by the knowledge which he meant to im- part. "He has not only been(arrested, but the examination is over, and, thanks to ~i pair of obstinate, dunderheaded fools, he has been "Committed?" "To jail for trial. They absolutely went so far as to refuse bail." Norab uttered a cry-it was her first, so she may be pardoned-and sank into a chair which chanced to be near by. There was nothing of affectation in this, her limbs abso- lutely refused to support her. She put her hands to her face and shuddered. Strong and brave as she was, her nerves and her heart both gave way. Arrested !-committed! It seemed too terrible to believe! "It is astonishing with what rapidity bad ~1ewsLtravels!~, said Mr. Middleton, in a vexed tone. He thought her nervous and theatrical, and felt more than half sorry that he had sent for her. "May I ask how this information reached you ?.-and have my wife and Leslie heard it?" "It reached us through a servant who was ~i Strafford," answered Norab, looking up. "Yes, Mrs. Middleton and Leslie have both heard it. It was because they heard it-be- cause the servant told them that every one at Strafford had gone to Wexford-that they went over there. Leslie insisted upon going, and Mrs. Middleton thought it best to take advantage of he house being empty." "It was v ry well that she did !" said Mr. Middleton, w o was heartily glad that ke had gone to W d. There was scarcely any place, indeed, t which lie would not have gone to escape th pain of being under the same roof that witne sed Leslie's last parting with her dead love. "This is a bad case for Tyndale," he said, after a minute, "though he has his own oh- I NORAH'S STORY. stinacy to thank, as well as the folly of others. He admits that he was in the grounds here at midnight-which was about the time that poor Arthur was killed, as near as we can tell-but he either can't or won't give the name of any person whom he saw or talked with; so that his own admission tells against him. I confess that I don't understand it!" said he, in a half-annoyed, half-puzzled tone. "I can't believe that he was the person who had that struggle with Arth~ir at the bridge, and yet his silence is inclining people to sus- pect him who never thought of doing so at first." "You mean, then, that he acknowledges he was here - in these grounds - at mid- night?" said Norah, in a voice which scarce- ly sounded like her own, so tense and sharp- ened was it. "Yes,1 he acknowledges it. He had no option, indeed, about doing so-the servant's evidence proved that he left Strafford, and that Arthur followed him. What took him out at that hour of the night he won't say, however. It is a queer business altogether," said Mr. Middleton, summing it up sharply. "The more I think of it, the queerer it seems. If I had chosen to volunteer my evidence, and say that the guests here had all left be- fore he gould have got back-according to Giles's statement of the time he left Strafford -it would have made the matter still more suspicious. As it is, I cannot conceive what he did with himself that he is so loath to tell." As he ceased speaking, silence fell-a si- lence in which he might almost have heard the quick breathing of the girl near him. She put her hand to her th~at, where some- thing seemed choking her. As in a mirror she saw all the array of merciless conse- quences that must follow if she opened her lips, and said, "He came to meet me." Yet, it must not be supposed that she wits silent because she hesitated to say it. She was si- lent literally because she could not speak. Such a host of emotions assailed her that she felt like one whose breath is taken away in the whirl of a great tempest. Foremost among these was amazement - amazement that Max should endure arrest, suspicion, im- prisonment, should face the thought of all that might ensue, sooner than utter words which might throw a shadow on her name. To understand the light in which Norab re- 197 guarded this which Max took to be a very plain: and simple rule of honor, it must be remem- hered that she had spoken according to the stern letter of the truth when she said. that, though admiration and love had been freely offered her in the course of her life, consider- ation and that chivalry of respect which is the flower of courtesy, had rarely, if ever, come within the range of her experience. "What is my good name to him, that he should guard it?" she thought, with such a ~rush of supreme gratitude that, at that mo- ment, she even forgave him the words which he would "never have spoken to Leslie." "I did not know that you .had heard the news of the arrest," Mr. Middleton said, while she still remained silent-still gasped for breath~ still felt that, if she tried to speak, she would probably disgust and shock her lis- tener by bursting into tears-" so I thought I would come in and tell you, since Mrs. Mid. dieton is not here. Do you know, by-the-by, how long she is to remain at Strafford?" "No," answered Norah. It cost her such 'an effort to articulate the word that it came out with a force which was almost equivalent to a moral cannon-ball-startling Mr. Middle- ton not a little. He looked at her suspicious- ly. What ailed the girl? He noticed again that she was deathly pale, and that her lips quivered. He began to be afraid of hysterics. He extended his hand, and grasped his hat, which was on a table near by. "I have a good deal of business," he said, hastily. "I think I better__" "Be going," he would have said, if Norab had not suddenly risen, and, in so doing, barred his way. Her great eyes burned steady and lustrous in her white face. There was no faltering or hesitation now. "If you can spare a few minutes longer," she said, "I wish you would be kind enough to tell. me what I must do-how I must give my evidence. I know what Captain Tyndalo did in the grounds here that ni~t." "Thu know!" repeated Middleton, amazed. "Why, how on earth do you know?" "Because he came to m~et me," she an- swered. "Because he did meet me, and we spent some time-an hour, perhaps-on the steps of the summer-house. We were sitting there together, when we beard the report of the pistol, which was found near Arthur Tyn. dale's body." "God bless my soul! "said Mr. Middleton. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 A DAUGHTER Yin was so astounded that he sat down again in the chair from which he had risen. "Is it possible?" he said, after a minute. "Are you really in earnest in telling me this?" "I am perfectly in earnest,", she answered -a sudden flush, like the hectic spot of fever, coming into, her cheeks. "Do you think I would say such a thing if it were not true? What reason could I have for doing so? Surely you must see that Max Tyndale has been ~ilent in order to spare me. He has borne this suspicion rather than involve me, rather than drag my name into such a matter. -But he thinks more of me than I think of myself!" she cried, pamionatcly. "No earth- ly consideration could make me accept such a sacrifice. Sir-Mr. Middleton - tell me where to ~o, and what to do, and I will do it this minute!" "Sit down, and be quiet," said Mr. Mid. dleton. "That is the best thing you can do at present. Neither the magistrates nor Tyn. dale are likely to run away. Now tell me what is the meaning of this? Why should he have come to meet you, at midnight, in the grounds, when you could see him at any hour of the day in the house?" Then it was-face to face with this in- quiry, and the keen eyes enforcing it-that Norah felt the consequences of her disclosure. How could she say what she must say, how could she explain what must be explained, without telling, the whole story of Arthur's deception? It would have been hard to do this at any time but it seemed doubly hard now' that he was dead, now that he could utternever another word in his own defense. It seemed cowardice to assail the dead; but, then, might not mercy to the dead mean in- justice to the living? Max wss already suf- fering from Arthur's, fault; should he suffer still 'more?' This thought ended her doubt. Mr. Middleton saw the lines of her face settle into determination, the lips brace themselves for a second, the drooping lids lift. He was a man, though an elderly one, and 'the mute though proud appeal of her eyes touched him before she spoke. "It is a long story, and not a pleasant o~h~" she said; "but, if you wish to hear it -,~j~itis necessary for you to hear it-I am ready to tell it. But I warn you beforeha~id that it will make you think bitterly of him that is dead-of him who can never speak in his own defense again. OF BOHEMIAN. THE MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW. 199 "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Middle. ton. He felt bewildered, and yet something like a gleam of light shot athwart the cloud of puzzled doubt which surrounded him. His brows beat, a spark of angry light came into his eyes. Had Arthur Tyr~dale forgotten his honor and ,his faith far enough to let this fair-faced siren make a fool of him? Had he been going.to meet her when he met his death? "What do you mean?" he repeated, sternly. "Whatever it is, you must explain." At that moment he had neither respect nor compas- sion for her in his heart. But, as she read his thoughts, her color rose, her eyes began to glow, the majesty of bearing, which chiefly made her beauty so un- like that of other women, came back to her. She looked at him like a queen-one bora to rule, by right divine, over the great realm of hearts. "I mean this,~~ she said, "that, when Max Tyndale came to meet me on Saturday night, he did not come on his own behalf, nor with regard to any thing which concerned himself; he came in the cause of the man of whose murder he stands accused, the man who was engaged to me before he ever knew Leslie- the man whose letters are in my possession now to prove that I speak the truth." "Engaged to you!" repeated Mr. Middle- ton. Astonishment stupefied him. "Do you -do you know what you are saying 1',' "It was about those letters, which Arthur was anxious to recover, that Captain Tyndale came to me," Norah went on, with resistless impetuosity. "I had agreed to surrender them; but I wanted-not unnaturally, you may think-some guarantee of good faith on his part, some proof that he would not return my generosity by slander. Perhaps you are not aware that men do such things sometimes, even fine gentlemen such as Arthur Tyndale -wag." Her voice dropped over the last word; it seemed as if, in the midst of the old bitterness, a thrill of remembrance came to her that he of whom she spake now only "was." There was a short pause; then she resumed more quietly: "All of ,this I can prove, if you care for proof. But it is not of these things 1 wish to speak. It ws~s of Cap. tam Tyndale. I Want-you to understand why he came to meet me; I want you to believe that he had no personal reason for desiring to see me. It waa as entirely a matter of busi- ness with him as if I went to see my banker U -supposing that I had one. So it seems hard that he should suffer, does it not? And I-how much of this will Ineed to tell? Sure. ly not the whole, for Leslie's sake, and even for his sake-who is dead." "Good' Heavens!" said Mr. Middleton. "How can I tell? Give me a minuteto think -to take it in! I never liked him; but to suspect him of such dishonorable conduct as this never occurred tome- never for an in- stant! The false -hearted scoundrel !" said he, grinding his teeth, and forgetting for a moment what stupendous gulf-silencing all speech, ending all wrong-lay between him. self and the man of whom he spoke. "He was not so false as weakI think," said Norah, gravely. "But it does not matter now. Leslie has forgiven him-.." "Does Leslie know?" interrupted he, quickly, almost fiercely. "Surely you had humanity enough not to tell ker this story?" "I told her the truth when I found that she had heard a garbled falsehood, which was worse than the truth," Norah answered.-and the dignity of her manner impressed, even if it did not convince her listener-" I told it to her on that night, after I came in from the shrubbery. I had no alternative. Mrs. Sand- ford had overheard a conversation, and so knew enough to make mischief. This mis- chief she made. Again I repeat, that her garbled falsehood was even worse than the truth." "But," said Mr. Middleton, with gathering indignation in his eyes and in his voice, "she could never have overheard any thing, she could never have found any thing, she would never have been t~bIe to make mischief, if you had not put it in her power to do so! Do you think that it was honorable conduct to come here with such a secret as this in your possession, Miss Desmond? If you knew any thing to Mr. Tyndale's discredit, and wished to break off your sister's engage- ment, it would have been honest to write and warn her. I~ut to come here-to hold inter. course-to write~ letters-to meet him clan- destinely-nothing can justify it!" "I know that now," said Norah. ~" I rec- ognize it as fully as you can do. But I- -well, I knew no better. I have lived a more 'vagrant and hap-hazard life than you can well imagine," said she, looking at him with something half pathetic in her eyes. "Nobody ever taught me any thing. I I have had only my own instincts and impulses to guide me, and it is not strange that I- a girl of nineteen - have been sometimes guided wrongly. I am sorry, very sorry, that I came to make trouble in your home as I have done-but I promise you that I will not stay any longer than it is necessary for me 'to do in order to clear the name of an innocent man. Oh, sir," she clasped her hands and leaned toward him with great crystal drops- drops which did not fall - standing in her' eyes, "don't think of me just now. Re- strain your indignation for a little while, and think of Captain Tyndale. Where must I go, what must I do, to give my evidence for him?" 4' "Good Heavens I" said Mr. ~Iiddleton, irritated, exasperated, and yet touched. "Try to be a little reasonable I Women can be reasonable sometimes, I suppose - if they try! Did I say any thing about-about want- ing you to go?" (The words nearly choked him', for he would have said any thing in the world sooner.) "I said that it was a pity you came with this secret in your possession, unless you came to give an open, honest warning to your sister. However, that is over, and we are not likely to gain any thing by going back upon it. You want to know what you must do now to give your evidence for Tyndale. Well, it is a disagreeable ne- cessity, and one which will make any amount of scandal and gossip, but you must go with me to Wexford and testify to the fact that he was in the grounds *ith I/on, before the magis- trates who committed him -like a couple of fools as they are!" "To Wexford !-must Igo? "said Norah. She shrank back piteously, and covered her face with her hands. A terrible, cowardly instinct said, "Why did you not keep silence, and this need not have been?" A vision of all the scandal, and gossip of which he spoke rose up before her. How could she meet it-court it, as it were? "You must certainly go, unless you mean to let that poor fellow suffer all the conse- quences of what you say was no fault of his," answered Mr. Middleton, dryly. "I am as loath to advise such a thing as you can be to do it, for it will let loose a thousand tongues' like so many hounds upon you, upon Leslie, upon all of us; but there is no alternative. Processes of law are not enacted in the cor- ners of drawing - rooms. *Young ladies have K OP BOHEMIA. page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. MRS. MIDDLETON'S INDIGNATION. 201 to pay heavy penalties sometimes for appoint- ing midnight interviews in the grounds." His tone roused Norah more quickly than any thing else could have done. 11cr hands dropped, and she looked up. The short-lived color had ebbed from her face; it was pale again and very firm. In that moment, "strength came to her ithat equaled her de- sire." She put the weakness, which had al- most conquered her, down, and set her foot upon it. "You are right," she'said-her voice was as clear and steady as the notes drawn from a violin by a master's hand "the conse- quences of what has happened must fall where they belong, and they certainly do not belong to Captain Tyndale, whose only fault is that he has served his friends too well. I am ready to go with you at once~ After all, what is my name worth, that I should guard it so tenderly 1' Less than nothing if, by bringing a shadow on it, I can clear one on which no shadow belongs!" "In talking that way, I do not think you realize at all-" Mr. Middleton began, shocked by the recklessness which was ready to sac. riflee even that which women in general hold to be worth nsore~ than life. But, as he spoke, a figure stood in the open door, the appear- ance of which hushed the words on his lips. It was Leslie, with the long veil which she wore thrown back from her fair face-a face which the majesty of sorrow lifted into a nobler beauty than it had ever known before. It was but an instant that she stood there- framed like a beautiful and touching picture to their sight - then, seeing that the room was not empty as she had imagined, she turned, without a word, and passed across the hail and up to the staircase, her head drooping a little, but her whole bearing other- wise unchanged. Though she had come.and gone so swiftly and so noiselessly, her appearance, which had broken the thread of their conversation, seemed to come with a certain strange appeal to both of them. It seemed to plead for gen- tle thoughts and merciful silence toward him whom she mourned, him from whose dead presence she had come. "We must think of her!" Mr. Middleton muttered; and, as he spoke, his wife entered the room. "Are you here, George?" she said, with a gleam of pleasure coming over her sad, weary face. "How glad I am of it! I have just been making myself doubly miserable by thinking how worn-out and worried you must be I Are you not tired to death, dear?" she asked, laying one hand on his shoulder as she reached his side. It was a gesture full of tenderness, and as near a caress as Mrs. Middleton would have permitted herself in the presence of a third person. "I suppose I am," said George, taking the hand into his own, "but I have not had time to think about it. One thing has followed so fast on another. Sit down, Mildred: I have a great deal to say to you, and you are just in time.. Miss Desmond tells me that you have heard of Tyndale's arrest?" "Is it true, then? Servants have such a singular capability for distorting facts, that I never know what to believe, that comes through them-but they were all very posi- tive about it at Strafford" "It is unfortunately quite true. He has been arrested, examined, and committed to prison by those pillars of law and wisdom, Colville and Furcell." "0 George, is it possible ? - how ter- rible! What grounds are there for such a charge?" "Scant enough grounds, but it is astonish- ing what a number of blockheads there are in the world. I knew all the time that the whole charge was absurd, but because he was not able-or, rather, because he would not say exactly what he was doing at midnight in my grounds, they committed him to jaiL" "At midnight !-but what ices he doing at midnight here?" exclaimed Mrs. Middleton. "Every one had gone home some time before that, and Captain Tyndale I was sure-I' was certainly under the impression-left early in the evening I', Mr. Middleton looked at Norab, Now was her time to speak. But what woman has not felt what Norah felt then, that it is easier to make almost any cause good to a man ~than to a woman? She flushed and paled as she felt her hostess's glance follow her hus- band's and rest on her face. But, if the ex- planation must be given, it might as well be given at once. That thought nerved her to return the look of the cold eyes bent on her, and say: "Captain Tyndale did leave the grounds early in the evening; but he came back-to meet me." The audacity of this assertion almost took Mrs. Mid4~leton's breath away. "To meet you, Miss D~smond-.at midnight! Is it pos- sible that I hear you aright?" - You certainly hear me aright, madam, though you may not understand me," Norah answered. "I repeat that Captain Tyndale came to meet me, that he was sitting with me on the steps of the summer-house when we were startled by hearing a pistol-shot, and that he was with me for some time afterward -facts which prove conclusively that he could not have been the assailant of his cousin." "They may prove that," said Mrs. Middle- ton, with icy coldness, "but you must excuse me if I say that they also prove that you have very little idea of decorum. You are a young lady in my house and under my care, Miss Desmond, therefore I have a right to say-- indeed it is my duty to say-that such con- duct as t1his is totally opposed to any code of propriety with which I am acquainted." "That may very readily be," said Norah. "But it is enough for me that I hold the necessary evidence for clearing the name of an innocent man-a man who came to meet me, not, as you may imagine, madam, because he wished to flirt with me, but because he was anxious to serve the interests of his cousin and of Leslie." "And pray may I ask," said Mrs. Middle- ton, haughtily, "what possible concern there was between a midnight interview with youi- self and the interests of Mr. Tyndale and Leslic?" "More than you imagine, perhaps," was the reply. "More than I like to remember, for it is the bitterest memory of my life that I was once engaged to Arthur Tyndale." "You!" said Mrs. Middleton with a gasp. - She could say no more. If she had not been the thorough-bred woman that she was, she would have said, "It is false!" As it was, I her look said it for her, and Norah caught that look. "I see that you do not believe me," she said. "Fortunately, your' belief is not a mat- ter of any importance. If It were, proofs, ~ and to spare, are ready to my hand. Mr. Tyndale's letters are still in my possession, though it was to return them that I met Cap- a tam Tyndale on Saturday night. I am dull a on the subject of decorum, 1 suppose, but I a could certainly see no glaring impropriety in t turning from my last good-night to your t guests, and going to fulfill an appointment with him at the summer-house in order to speak without interruption on a matter which in reality concerned either of us very little. I was willing to relinquish Mr. Tyndale's letters-relics as they were of a past which had lost all association save that of pain for me-but I should have been mad if I had given them up without some pledge of good faith from him. This he refused to give, and so the letters are still in my possession. "If this is all true," said Mrs. Middleton, "and I-I can scarcely realize that it is-do you appreciate how great yotfr duplicity has been? If Mr. Tyndale was so utterly false to Leslie, what were you? What did you ex- pect to gain by it?" shejcried, with a passion which was totally foreign to her usual manner. "You must have had an object--you could not have come here and made all this mischief without one!" "I cannot cntci upon my object now," said Norah, putting her hand with a sudden, involuntary gesture to her head. It was not strange that the latter began to swim a little, that she began to ask herself when and where all this would end. Then she turned abruptly to Mr. Middleton.-" Are we not wasting precious time?" she said. "Should I not go at once and give my evidence? Surely they will not refuse to hear it without delay. And every hour counts with Aim- Captain Tyn- dale!" Before Mr. Middleton could answer, his wife interposed. "Are you mad, Miss Desmond?" she said. Can it be possible that you think of taking ~kis-this story-into a court of law? If you have no regard ibr your own good name -if von have been reared so as not to know ~hat when a woman's reputation is breathed ipon, it is gone-you might at least think of [leslie, you might think of us I It is infa- nous I-it is impossible! I have a right to ;ay that I will not allow it! I have a right :o say that you shall not leave this house to ~o and drag our names through the mire of ublic gossip and public scandal I" "Madam," said Norah, firmly, "you have io such right at all! Though I have had no advantage of social training, I know i~s well .s you can tell me, that when a woman's rep- Ltation is breathed upon it is gone, and I have ned hard.-.very hard-to keep mine from - cing breathed upon; but, even for my repu- 201 page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 A DAUGHTER station's shke, I have no right~to hold back and be silent when the truth will clear an in- nocent man~ Not even for Leslie's sake, not even for the Bake of the dead, have I any right to hesitate-though I trust," she added, almost wistfully, "that I may take the whole burden on myself. Will it he necessary to mention wAy1 went to meet Captain Tyn- dale?" she asked, turning to Mr. Middle- ton. '~ I do not think so," he answered, hesi- tatingly-" at least, I hope not.-I am afraid there is no help for it, Mildred," he added, turning to his wife. "I feel it as much as you can do, but I see no alternative. Cap- tahi Tyndale, like a man of honor, has re- fused to say what brought him into the grounds. For this silence he is now suffer- ing, and since Miss Desmond knows what ~ brought him-since she saw and spoke with him-it is only right that she should give her evidence in his favor." "Not at such ~. sacrifice as this," said Mrs. Middleton, with a face set like graniI~e. "Captain Tyndale is a man-he is able to endure suspicion. But for a woman to come forward and give such evidence ag'~iinst'her- self-it is beyond every thing that he could ask or expect." "There is no help for it," repeated Mr. Middleton, with a sigh. Then he turned to Norah.-" You are right, Miss Desmond," he said, coldly. "We are wasting valuable time.' If you will put on your bonnet, I will drive you into Wexford and try to settle the business at once." ChAPTER XXXIV Such a prone and In her youth There speechless dialect, as moves men; besides, she' bath prosper- ens art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade." WHEN Norah went up-stairs to put on her bonnet as Mr. Middleton had directed, she paused in the act of doing so, and looked in- tently at her face as reflected in the mirror. ( t was paler thnu usual, but this paleness, in- tend of detracting from its loveliness, rather * drew' attention from the mere brilliance of coloring to the perfect outlines of the nobly- cut features, to the richsculpturesque waves OF BOHEMIAN. of her chestnut hair, and the full-orbed splen- dor of the eyes. Any woman might well have been content with such a face,' yet Norah 'looked uncertain and dissatisfied. In truth, she was wondering what effect her beauty would have upon the magistrates whom she expected to confront, and whether she had better enhance it-as a pretty woman knows so well how to do-or to disguise it as much as possible-which it would have been im- possible to do in any perceptible degree. She had not lived nineteen years in the world without having learned to appreciate fully the power which this face exercised over men of all ages and all degrees. Wherever she went, the sterner sex (called thus in irony!) were willing and ready to do her 8cr. vice, obdurate officials melted at a glance from her eyes, no one was too high or too low to refuse her the homage to which beau- ty is entitled, and which it ever commands. The question she now asked herself was whetherthis beauty would tell for or against Max'Tyndale. Would the magistrates yield their point to her, as many men, older and wiser had done before? or would they fall into the grave error of thinking that it was love or admiration for lwr which had drawn Max to Roslaxid on that fatal night 1' In that case-if they once had a clew to her connec- tion with Arthur Tyndale-her beauty might very readily work harm instead of good. "Is not here a cause," they might say, "a cause of strifeand bloodshed old as humani- ty? Need we go farther than that fair face to find a reason for all that has occurred?" Having given this probability due weight, and after mature deliberation-deliberation so mature, indeed, that Mr. Middleton grew quite impatient below-~-Norah, who had as little vanity as any woman, short of a nun, could possibly possess, decided to make her- ~self as plain as possible. She descended, therefore, in the course of the next ten min- utes, wearing her traveling-bonnet, with all the rich masses of her hair hidden almost en- tirely from sight, and a heavy veil over her face. Mrs. Middleton had disappeared. Al- though she had not yielded to her husband far enough to admit that this disagreeable step might' be a necessity, she did not choose to make any further "scene" by opposing it. But she had declared, very decidedly, that she' could not see Norah again before she left. "I cannot trust myself," she averred. "I I NQRAH BEFORE do not know what I might say. There arc no words to express the bitterness I feel tow- ard her. It was a black day for all of us- but especially for poor Leslie-when she first set her foot across this threshold. I felt it then as clearly as I know it now. Oh, why de we not heed our own instincts more often than we do? They are so seldom wrong." So it came to pass that Norah found only Mr. Middleton awaiting her. The carriage was at the door. "You will be stared at enough, unavoidably," he said, grimly. "I do not ~choose for you to be stared at in any way which can possibly be avoided, so I ordered this." The drive from Rosland to Wexford was short under all circumstances, but it seemed to Norah now of no length at all. Sliq would gladly have drawn it out to twenty miles, so much did she dread the ordeal before her, but, un4uckily, it was out of her power to add another yard to the road over which the horses trotted as gayly as if the sinking heart behind had not wished them shod with lead. This was when she thought of herself. When she thought of Max the way seemed to length- en interminably, and the horses to creep. But, although she hated herself for doing so, it was natural that just at this time she should think most of herself. That whi~ lay before her might well have daunted the courage of the bravest woman alive-for bravery does not mean audacity, fa~jt less shametessness Norah was not afraid that her courage would fail her when it was need- ed, and she kept every cowar~lly doubt and fear locked fast in her oi~'n breast; but, all the same, she shrank, as any woman with a woman's instincts must have done, and wished unavaiIin~ly that such a necessity might have been spared her. Very little was said, either by Mr. Middleton or herself, on the way. He gave her a few directions with regard to the manner in which it would be best for her to give her testimony, aud added, with a sigh of relief; that he was glad she was not like. ly to be nervous, or to lose her head. "Wom- en usually make complete fools of them- selves," he added, candidly. As they entered Wexford he grew a little nervous himself. "Purcell can refuse an. otherexainination if he chooses," he said to Norah, "and he may do it out of spite to me. I told him very plainly what I thought of his ~onduet this morning. THE MAGISTRATE. 203 "And if he refuses," said Norah, aghast, "what then?" "Then we shall have to apply for a writ of ka6eas corpus, and take him before the judge of the district." "Him! Do you mean the magistrate!" "The magistrate !"(with a laugh), "not exactly. Tyndale, I mean." Then, putting his head out of the window, "Drive to Mr. Purcell's house," he said, to the coachman- adding, to Norah, as he drew back-" He is more likely to be there than anywhere else this time of day." When the carriage drew up before Mr. Purcell's house-a pleasant, rambling, double. story building, in a large grove-Mr. Middle- ton alighted, and told Norah to remain where she was., "I'll see if he is here, nndifhe will grant the examination," he said. "He may be more reasonable when he hasn't got Colville by." "Please persuade him to do it," said No- rah. "I know you can if' you will try! Or take me along and let me try!" "That is not necessary," said Mr. Middle. ton, who did not rate as highly as he should have done the valuable aid of Norah's lovely face and Norah's eloquent tongue. So ho went to the house alone-passing up the shaded walk, across the piazza, on which were several chairs and a child's rocking-horse, to ~he wide-open doors of the hall. Here, as Norah's keen eyes perceived, a gray-whis- ke~ed gentleman met him, and, sitting down in full view, they proceeded to talk. She watched them eagerly-trying to gain some idea of what they were saying from the dumb show of gesture and the expression of atti- tude. Passers-by on that quiet village street were few, but even those few cast curious glances at the beautiful face, from which the disguising veil had been carelessly pushed aside. For once, Norah was unconscious of either attention or admiration. What were they saying? When, w quId they have done? Did the magistrate menb to grant the exami- nation? These were the impatient questions which filled her mind. Suddenly an instinct came to her that the magistrate did tact mean to grant the exami- nation. How this impression was conveyed she did not know, neither did she stop to doubt its accuracy. Her impatience became uncontrollable, and the desire to act, which was always her governing impulse, ~med to p page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] take irresistible possession of her. Before she was scarcely aware of what she meant to do~ she hadstepped from the carriage, crossed the sidewalk, and opened the gate. A mlii. ute later she was moving quickly up theover. shadowed walk, conscious that the two gen- tlemen were regarding her with considerable surprise from the piazza. As she ascended the steps they both rose. Mr. Middleton looked annoyed as well as sur. priced. He had found Mr. Purcell very im- practicable indeed, and was provoked that Norah should have come forward in this un- necessary manner. "I am afraid I have kept you aidingng some time, Miss Desmond," he said, stiffly. Then, turning to the magistrate, he added: "This is the witness of whom I spoke.-Miss Desmond, let me introduce Mr. Purcell." "I came in to see Mr. Purcell," said No- rah, in her frank, clear voice. She declined by a gesture the chair which Mr. Purcell hastened to offer. He, on his part, was as much struck by her beauty as she could have desired, and felt an involuntary softening of his resolution, if not of his heart. He had not looked for any thing so interesting as this dazzling young lady. Mr. Middleton had 1 spoken of a witness, but he had entered into no particulars, and Mr. Purcell ,having his pride and obstinacy both in arms, had de- clined to grant another examination. Now he began to feel a little 'curiosity to hear what the witness had to say, and Norah did not leave him long in doubt on this point. "It is likely that I am very presumptuous in fancying that I may be able to influence you more than Mr. Middleton," she said, with a smile that nearly took the worthy magis- trate's breath away; "but I could not remain quiet when so much depends on your dcci. sion, and I have come to say that I hope you will grant the examination. Surely" (look. ing at him with anxious, wistful deprecation) "you have not refused to do so ~ "I-I have been telling Mr. Mi~dleton that I-really I cannot see why I should do so," answered Mr. Purcell, stammering like a school-boy. "It was in Captain Tyndale's power to have brought forward any evidence which he desired to produce, and he not only refused to do so, but his refusal was given in a very curt and contemptuous manner. There. fore, I cannot see-" "Shall I tell you why he refused ?" inter. I erupted Norab, with her eyes glowing like two stars. "It was because he did not wish to bring me into notoriety, as a witness in his favor I-it was because he would not shield himself by throwing the least shadow on a woman's name. I was with Captain Tyndaic during the time that he was in the Rosland grounds, Mr. Purcell, and, although he did not choose to summon me as a witness, I have come to testify on his behalf. Do you mean to tell me that you are going to refuse to hear my evidence ? '~ "Certainly not," answered Mr. Purcell, promptly.' "I-of course, this alters the state of the case entirely. If it was a natural and commendable reluctance to drag you into such a matter which made Captain Tyndale refuse to summon you as a witness, it is pos- sible for me to stretch a point, and have an- other examination of the case.-Usually, how- ever," turning to Mr. Middleton, with an evi- dent desire to save his credit, "this would be quite irregular. After the prisoner has been committed, the only proper way to procure another examination is by means of a writ of habeas cos-pu~, issued by-" "I know all about that," said Mr. Middle- ton, impatiently. "But it is only a-hem l~ exceptional magistrate who adheres so rigidly to the letter of the law. There's latitude in these things, Purcell-great latitude. But, since you have finally decided in favor of the examination, suppose that we have it over at once 1' It is an unpleasant business ~o Miss Desmond under any circumstances, and the sooner it is dqne the less attention it will cre- ate." Mr. Purcell made no difficulty about this. He suddenly became as obliging as possible -so obliging, indeed, that Mr. Middleton felt that he had made a great mistake and* lost much time in not bringing Norah forward at once. If the truth had b~en known, how- ever, he would have learned that the worthy magistrate was not only fired with chivalric gallantry by Norah's exquisite face, but he was also burning with curiosity to learn- as it would be his "duty" to do-what part in the tragedy she had played; for, alas! Norah's misgivings were true. Mr. Purcell j~ had already settled in his own mind what ~ her r6le had probably been.' This was the ill turn which that delusion and snare, called beauty, did for her. They drove at once to the justice-room, 1 I and the prisoner was sent for. His first , e- quest when left alone had been for pen and paper, and he was writing a letter to Norah when the sheriff came for him. In this letter he had forcibly stated the reasons why she should keep silence with regard to having met him on that fatal night, and it may be imagined, therefore, that his surprise and consternation were great when he entered the justice-room, where the first person whom he saw was Norah, sitting by Mr. Middleton. He uttered an exclamation, and would have walked up to her immediately, if the magis- trate had not interfered. "Excuse me, Captain Tyndale, but I must ask yoi~ to defer speaking to the witness until after she has given her testimony. I have been induced to relax my usual rules and grant your case another investigation, be- cause I have been informed that she- has im- portan~ evidence to offer in your behalf-" "I think there is some mistake," inter- rupted Max, impetuously. "Miss Desmond knows nothing-it is impossible that she can know any thing-bearing at all upon what you are good enough to call my 'case;' in other words, the death of my cousin." "Miss Desmond is certainly the best judge of what she knows," answered the magistrate. He had no liking for this brusque young soldier, and did not hesitate to show as much. "Be good enough to sit down and keep quiet, sir.-Miss Desmond, I am ready to hear your evidence." Then Norah, who had not spoken to Max -who, indeed, had not done more than barely give one glance at him as he entered-ad- vanced to the table, behind which the magis- trate was sitting. Despite Mr. Middleton's anxiety to get the thing over and keep it quiet, the' news of another~ examination had spread, and a considerable number of sight- seers had followed in the train of the sheriff and prisoner. Fr~m lip to lip the intelligence had passed that Mr. ;Middleton had brought in a lady to give evidence-a young lady, a pretty lady, those who had seen her in the carriage at Mr. Purcell's gate averred-there. fore the justice-room was filled in an almost incredibly short space, and Norah faced quite an audience when she rose. Then it was that the training of her life stood her in good stead. If her beauty, when she threw back her veil, sent a thrill through all present, the supreme dignity and grace of her bearing-her perfect self-possession and complete unconsciousness-astonished them still more. As for Max, he held his breath as he looked at her. He was enraged-enraged that she should causelessly (as he thought) draw down upon herself all the comment, the certain gossip and possible scandal, which would ensue: but he was also fascinated so deeply that for a minute he forgot the pres- ence of every one but herself. He wondered that he had never seen before ahe grandeur that dwelt in those perfect features, the brave, strong, dauntless soul which looked out of the lustrous eyes. In a position where almost any girl would have trembled, and blushed, and faltered-for notanother's woman's face was in the crowded room-she stood like a princess, with no deepening flush of color on ~her faiL- face, no quiver of self-consciousness in her manner. Having taken the necessary oath, she made her statement in a voice which was dis- tinctly audible to every one present-her clear, pure enunciation serving instead of any elevation of tone. "On Saturday night," she said, "there was a dinner.party' at ~lr. Middleton's. I think it must have been about ten o'clock that Captain Tyndale came up to me as I was sitting on the lawn, and told me that be had been looking for his~cousin, but that, not being ~able to find him among the guests, he thought it likely that he had gone back to Strafford. He intended to follow him, he said., in order to speak on a matter of business; and he asked me-since I, also, had some connection with this business-if I could not see him if he came back to Rosland afterward. I thought that the company would probably not be dispersed by that time, and I agreed to do so-telling him that I would meet him at a summer-house in the grounds at half- past eleven o'clock. At that hour the last of the guests were taking leave-most of them saying that they could not stay later because it was Saturday night-and it chanced that nobody observed me when I entered the shrubbery to keep my appointment with Cap- tain Tyndale. I found him waiting for me at the summer-house, and the first, thing which he told me was that his cousin had been drinking so deeply that he was quite impracticable, and had refused absolutely to listen tb him. We were both sorry for this, and discussed it at some length. Afterwar? 204 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA.. MISS DESMOND'S TESTIMONY. 205 'I. page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] THE WHOLE TRUTH. 207 206 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. we were talking of other things, when iv, were startled by the report of a pistol ap parentlyin the direction of the bridge. Cap tam Tyndale was anxious to go and see wha' it meant, but I objected to being left alone and therefore ha remained with me. ~inee rn other report followed, we did not attach mud importance to the shot, and soon returned t the conversation which it had' interrupted Not very long after this we separated. That sir, is all that I know, and I am sure it is all that Captain Tyndale knows, of the murder of Arthur Tyndale." After the clear tones ceased, there was s moment of dead silence. Mr. Purcell looked as he felt, embarrassed what to say. Th spectators held their breath and pricked theii ears to hear what would come next. As the minute of suspense ended, peopl became conscious that a gray-haired man with bushy, gray eyebrows and a short whiji in his hand, was pushing his way roughly through the crowd to the magistrate's table. This was Mr. Colville, who, by a lucky chance (as he said to himself), had not left town when the news of the second examination reached him. He hurried at once to the jus- tice-room and entered t~ie door in time to hear Norah's testimony. As he came forward now, she, like every one else, turned to look at him, and, although she was not aware of his importance in the eyes of his neighbors or of himself, she recognized at a glance that he was a ~man of influence, and she also rec- ognized that he was an obstinate believ- er in Max's guilt, and' a man who would he proof against even the fascination of her beauty He walked past her as if he had not seen her, and addressed himself with a frowning brow to the magistrate. "I am astonished at this, Purcell-really astonished! If you meant to do any thing so wholly unnecessary and foolish as to grant a second examination, you might at least have notified me of the fact, and not assumed the entire responsibility in this manner." "I should of course have sent and notified you at once, but I thought you had left town," Mr. Purcell hastened to answer, in rather a deprecating tone. "I - I could not well refuse the examination under the circum. stances," he went on, lowering his voice, "but I "am glad to see you-very glad. I think you will have to take the case in hand. Really, I am quite at a loss what to think. - Here's an alibi proved very~p~inly." "Nothing of the sort," said Mr. Colville, in his hard, rasping voice. "The young lady merely asserts that Captain Tyndale met her at midnight in Mr. Middleton's grounds-for what purpose she does not state - but this fact does not at all exonerate him from the charge against him. The murder may have occurred at any time between midnight and I daylight." Mr. Middleton and Max both rose on the same impulse to speak, but, before any words could escape from the lips of either, Norah's clear voice sounded. "There is one point in my evidence which, in making such an assertion, you certainly overlook, sir. 'I have distinctly testified on oath that Captain Tyndale and myself heard a shot, which effectually proves when Mr. Tyndale was assailed - since I have under- stood that a discharged pistol was found near the scene ofthe struggle." A lawyer could not have made this point more neatly, and so Mr. Colville felt. He first stared and then colored. In his zeal he 1~ad' overlooked that fact, and it would have been disagreeable enough to be reminded of it by anybody, but by a girl -it was intoler- able! "You attach more importance to that point than it deserves," he said, sharply. "The pistol which was found had no ap- parent connection with Mr. Tyndale's death. It might very readily have been placed near the spot where the struggle-evidently a per- sonat struggle, closely resembling one which Mr. Tyndale's servant testifies to having wit- nessed in the house-took place, in order to draw off suspicion, and with a view to the fact that you had heard a pistol discharged in that direction at or about midnight." Mr. Middleton and Max looked at each other. "This is intolerable!" said the lat- ter between his clinched teeth; and, regard. less of consequences, he was abOut to step forward, when the elder gentleman's band' fell on his shoulder. "Keep quiet!" he said, though his own voice was trembling with anger. "You'll only do harm, by making a scene.' Not but that I should like amazingly to knock the insolent blookhead down myself !-still, it is best to keep quiet. I believe Miss Desmond will prove a match for him anyhow." U "But how on earth can you expect me to stand by and see her browbeaten and insulted on my account 1" said Max, who was almost choking. "He'll not insult~her," said the other, sig- nitKleantI~. "Let hik~i bluster as he will, Col- yule know~ ~gJettar than to try that!" This colloquy, *hich took place in short, nervous whispers, ~did not occupy a minute. With a parting "i~ep quiet!" Mr. Middleton moved forward to the side of Norah. But Norah needed no defender. She regarded Mr. Colville with eyes so steady that they al- most abashed him, and a face filled with elo- quent, indignant scorn. "Your private suppositions, sir," she said, coldly, "cannot possibly affect the evidence.- That," turning to Mr. Purcell, "I have given before the magistrate, and it is for him to act on it." "Mi~. Colville also forgets or ignores one thing," said Mr. Z4dleton, speaking here. "The servant, on wi4se single and unsup- ported evidence all t~iie infamous and insult- ing accusation rests, testified explicitly that he heard Captain Tyndale return to Strafford and enter his room a little after midnight. It follows, there fore, that he must have re- turned home immediately after parting with Miss Desmond." "I really think the case is very strong in his favor, Colville," said Mr. Purcell, in ~ whisper. "So far from being in his favor, the case is as strong as ever against him," said Mr. Colville, in a loud, positive voice. His blood and his mettle were both up. He looked upon his colleague as a weak-minded fool, and would not have hesitated to tell him so. He believed that Max was guilty, and he meant to prove him so. The idea that he- the' murderer-should be sent forth scathe. less to enjoy the inheritance of the man he had murdered, seemed to Mr. Colville too monstrous to be allowed! "There is one point-the most important point-which rests in mystery yet, and which it is necessary should be cleared before any evidence can be said to be in the prisoner's favor," he went on, 'after a short pause. '~ This is the subject of his dispute with the murdered man. He refused to give any ac- count of it himself, but, since Miss Desmond has come forward to offer her evidence on another point, it is likely that she may be able to enlighten us also on this.-Will you state," turning to Norah, "what was the ex- act nature of that 'business' which Captain~ Tyndale had with his cousin, and in which, you have already said, that you also were concerned)' "That can have nothing to do with the matter-that cannot be necessary'(' said No- rah. Max, watching her closely with eager, anxious eyes, saw that i~he did not flush, but, on the contrary, turned very pale. He thought she would recognize now, with a sense of dis- may, what she had brought upon herself. He did not know that she ha4 seen it all, and counted the cost of it all beforehand. "Do you refuse, then, to answer the ques- tion?" said Mr. Colville, growing exceedingly like a turkey-cock in the face. Norah hesitated. She did not know how far his power extended, but she had a vague fear of consequences if she did refuse. Not consequences to herself- she had flung all thought of herself to the winds-but ,to Mnx. Was the wiwle truth the only ~t~hin which I would clear him? Yet she h*d l~ped to I leave part of it untold, if only I'or Leslie's sake. Suddenly it occurred to her that Mr. Colville had no right to make such an in- quiry, and, acting upon this thought, she turned to Mr. Purcell with the dignity and grace of her bearing unchanged. "I thought that you, sir, were conducting the examination," she said'. "Will you al- low me, therefore, to ask if it is necessary that I should answer the question which this very courteous gentleman thinks fit to address tome?" "This gentleman is Mr. Colville, and a justice of the peace as well as myself," said Mr. Purcell, hurriedly. "I-hem !-think it would be best for you to answer the question he has asked." Norah looked at Mr. Middleton, appeal- ingly, but her glance received no answer. Angry, mortified, indignant, furious with Col- ville, yet knowing that the story of Arthur Tyndale's conduct must sooner or later tran- spire, he' looked down, and dared not trust himself to utter a word lest he should explode in the invectives which he had used once be- fore that day. Then she looked at Max. It' was the first time that their eyes had met, and the mute appeal of her 'glance was too much for the young man, who had momently felt the leash in which he held himself slipping page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. THE WRONG MAN. 209 from ha grasp. He sprang to his feet with a quick motion, and, before the sheriff or anybody else could interfere, stood by her side.~ "Take care that you do not go too far, sir!" he said, addressing Mr. Colville, with a ring in his voice, and a glance in his eye, which made that gentleman take an involun- tary step backward. "The charge on which you have seen fit to cause my arrest is in. - famous and unfounded enough, as you must be aware; but when you undertake to brow- beat and insult a lady, who has generously come forward, of her own accord, to testify in my behalf, you are going too far-muck too * far! If you presume on the fact that I am a prisoner now, you might remember that I am not likely to remain one-~4'or, surely, in~this country judges and juries are not fools as well as magistrates ! - and when I am at liberty, sir, you shall answer for this con- duct, as surely as there is a sun tin the ~ "Tyndale! Tyndale!" said Mr. Middle- ton, in a warning tone - but M~ax, having yielded himself up to passion, haA no ear for friendly remonstrances. He shook off the other's hand, impatiently, and looked at Mr. Colville with the most fiery eyes which it is likely that gentleman had ever encountered in his life. But Mr. Colville, who was not easily intimidated, saw his advantage, and in a moment seized it. "Any one who doubts this man's guilt," * said he, looking magisterially -around at the breathless but excited crowd, "has now an opportunity to test the justice of his opinion. The man who would venture to threaten a magistrate in the prosecution of his duty, would, certainly, be capable of assaulting his cousin, with whom he had some mysterious cause of disagreement, and whose heir-at-law he was, in a secluded place at midnight." Whatever this argument might have been called in logic, it had its effect upon the lis- tening crowd. A slight murmur rose. Norah turned to Max. "See what you have done!" she whis- pered. "Pray-pray, go hack and be quiet! I might as well answer the question. It must come out sooner or later." "Don't think of such a thing!" answered he, impetuously. "For God's sake, don't think of it! They have no right-it is in- famous!" "Tyndaic, if you don't want a scene, you had better go back to your seat. Colville is speaking to the sheriff," said Mr. Middleton, anxiously. r" The first thing that Mr. Colville knows, he, or his friends, will have something for which to commit me in earnest!" said Max, who felt that patience and forbearance had some time since ceased to be virtues in this particular case. Affairs were in this interesting condition, the spectators were growing more excited, and Mr. Colville more angry every instant, the sheriff was hesitating, Max was defiant, and Mr. Middleton was uneasy, when a young man, who had elbowed his way from the door, and whom nobody had observed in the pre- vailing excitement, walked up to the magis- trate's table and addressed Mr. PurcelL "You have the wrong* man in custody, sir," he said. "I know all the circum- ~tances and the cause of Mr. Tyndale's death." ChAPTER XXXV. "1 was too proud the truth to show, You were too blind the truth to know, And so we parted long ago." Ir would be difficult to describe the pause of absolute astonishment which fell over the excited crowd at those words. Every eye in the room turned at once on the new-corner, while Mr. Middleton, wheeling round upon him, uttered an exclamation of mingled amaze. ment and credulity, so violent that it startled every one present. "Great Heaven!" he said, " C'arl I-is it you?" "It is I, sir-all ~right!" answered Carl, extending his hand. lie spoke mechanically, and looked so jaded, pale, and grim, that it was not surprising that very few persons had recognized him as lie made lis way up the room. "I did not mean to spring the thing on you like this," he said, as his uncle took the extended hand, half doubtfully, and looked at him with a score at least of interrogation. points in his eyes. "I thought I would go to Rosland, talk it over quietly, and take your advice about the best course to pursue; but when I got off the train ten minutes ago, I heard that ~yndale had been taken up and was being examined, so I thought the best U thing I could do would be to come in at once, state exactly how it all occurre'l, and take the consequences, whatever they may be." "But, are you mad?" said Mr. Middle. ton. "It can't be possible that iou know any thing of Arthur Tyndale's death, for you were not even in the county." "You are mistaken," sa~id the young man, quietly. "I know every thing-every thing about it." Then he turned abruptly to Norab. 4. change which' it is hard to analyze came over his face, a quick shiver of passion crept into his voice. "Forgive me," he said, "that I have to drag your name forward. If it were possible to avoid it, I would do so, at any risk or cost to myself!" "My name!" said Norali. "What has my name to do with it?" But even as she i~sked the question, she felt what ~er name had to do with it, and a sudden sense of faintness came over her. It must all be told, then-there was no help for it! The faces around suddenly seemed to swim before her. She turned to Max with a blind instinct that in another moment she would make a scene. "Let me sit down!', she said, faintly. But, after he had taken her to a seat, she detained him and would not allow~ him to open a window or ask for water. "Don't!" she said. "People will think that I have something to dread, and it is not of ,nysclf that I am thinking. You know that." "Bt4 you should think of yourself," he said, angrily. What does this mean? What can this hot-headed young fool have to say about you?" "Only the old ~tory seen from his point of view. Hush! - what is he saying? Let me hear!~~ He had taken the oath and was giving his evidence to the magistrate with the manner of one who wishes to tell his story and be done with it. His quick, nervous voice-for it was evident that his coolness was only the result of supreme excitement - rang through the rooms clearly that-everybody heard dis- tinctly all that was said. The silence was profound. Men pressed nearer, but no one spoke. Mr.Purcell listened with the air of a man who has reached tha last point of possible astonishment, Mr. Colville eyed the speaker sternly with an air of mingled sus- picion and incredulity; Mr. Middleton sat down with an audible groan. This was a. 14 terrible blow to him. Meanwhile, Carl was speaking: "In saying that I am acquainted with the circumstances of Mr. Tyndale's death, I must add that I was unfortunately the cause of that death," he said, with his head upheld, his face white and set, his brown eyes steadily meeting the magistrates'. "The death itself was purely accidental; but~he was struggling with me when it~ occurred-when, stepping back incautiously, he lost his balance-so it is possible that the law will bold me account- able for it. * However that may be, I am here now to speak the truth and clear suspicion from a man who has becir unjustly accused." "You are rather late in coming to speak the truth," said Mr. Colville, abruptly. ~' May I ask where you have been ever since the murder was discovered?" "I will explain that point presently," said Carl, with a motion of the hand which could scarcely have been more carelessly con- temptuous if he had been brushing afly aside. Then he went on, addressing himself to Mr. Purcell with pointed directness: "In order that you may understand the cause of the struggle which resulted in Mr. Tyndale's death, it is necessary that I should tax your patience far enough to enter into a detail of some personal circumstances which preceded it. ~n last Saturday I decided to leave my uncle's honac for a short visit to some relatives in a lower county. Chancing to drive into Wexford on business during the earlier part of the day, I thought that I might save time, in case I was late at night, by buying my ticket then; so I went to the ticket-office, where I was informed of the change of schedule, which threw the trains several hours later than the time on which they hadbeen running, and where I also heard that Nir. Tyndale was intending to leave Wex. ford that night. This intelligence struck me, for I "-he paused, hesitated, a glow of color came into his face, then paled again.--."I at once connected such an intention with some words which I had overheard by chance that mqyning -words exchanged between Miss Desmond and Mr. Tyndale. They were talk- ing in a summer-house in my uncle's grounds, under the window of which I paesed"-he emphasized this word for Norah, as she felt, though he did not turn his glance on her- "and, in so passing, caught a reference to the ten-o'clock train at night which puzzled me. Y~ page: 210 (Illustration) [View Page 210 (Illustration) ] 210 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIA. When I learned the news of Mr. Tyndale's proposed departure, however, all seemed plain enough. I saw then that the man who was engaged to one woman, had asked another womanto ~lope'with him,' and, furthermore; I l~eliev~ed ~hatshe.htd consented;to do so." .Th~re was a slight 8tir as these emphatic Wdrds.rasg out.- Kl~'eople were disposed to be a; little. indignatit. " He won't clear him- self byL sl~nd6ring' ~ dead man!" more than one of.them mutt:ered.' Others had been shrewd enough to' suspect some family scan- 'dal 'befoi~e' this. Max's reticence, and No- rail's extraordindray beauty, .h~d been very ~igni~cantof scm ethingof the kind.. Interest began toineCease. 'Ftven Mr. Colville listened m6re - attentively.. Max,. who was* overcome with rage,'beut ~down~to Norah.. "Why do you not go forward and contradict such an assertion?" he said. '.' There is time enough for that," she'an- swered.'. "Let him finish' his story.' It is not in ~y' ~ha~acter, hut 'in. Arthur Tyndale's deatl~th'a't;th'& magistrates are concernedd" "I returned to Rosland,"' Carl 'meanwhile went' on, "where .there was .a dinner-party that evening. 'After. dinner I left, without tellisg.my friends of the change of schedule, of -which 'none of them'; were aware.. They were all under the impression that I had taken the :do~n-express, due' here by the 'old sched- ule ~t' 9.40 p~'M.' -As soonas' I'reached Wex- ford, I sent the dog-cart back to Rosland,' and soon afterward set forth in that direction myself.' I ivas' deta;rmin~d\to see if my sus- picions with regard to Miss Desmond and Mr. Tyndale were correct, and I was also de- termined that' the elopement sho~4d not take place:if I could prevent it." .'"~ Excuse me if interrupt you for a minute," ~aid' Mr. Purcell just'liere, "but why should you.Jiave wished 'to' prevent it?" ' - .",'Is it remarkable that I should have wished 'to prevent a 'dishonorable scoundrel fyoxn"playing fast-and-loose with the Cousin in the 'fi'rst.instance, and 'the woman whom I hoped to tuarry,~ in 'the second? " dematided the young man, haughtily. ''. . - "But..sin&e Mr. 'Middleton.is the head of ydur fanjillyand 'Miss Grahasne's guardian," ssld'the irrepressible Mr. Colville, "mayl ask why you did not go to him, if you wished the elopement prevented P" "I am here to state that my conduct was, not to render an account of the motives which actuated mc," answered Carl, waxing more haughty still. "Why I did not apply to my uncle has nothing whatever to do with the circumstances lam detailing." Then lie took up the thread of his story again.-a story to ~which Max and Norah listened as eagerly as any one else: "I entered the Roslax~d grounds unobserved, and 'tbok'my way to the bridge. I had an instinct that I should meet Arthur Tyndale there, and I was not mistakenn' As I crossed the bridge, I saw 'him advancing from the opposite.side toward me. I "-he stopped and hesitated for a minute-" I have scarcely a clear recollection of what followed. I met him just beyond the bridge, and asked him where he was going. He answered with an insolent refusal to tell inc. I charged him, then, his intention. Upon this, he grew very. viol~'~ accused me of insulting inter- ference,: and finally drew- a pistol on me. 1 was uiiarmed; but I was the cooler man of the two-besides which, I saw that he had been drinking-and, as he was in the act of firing, I knocked the pistol out of his hand. Then' he sprang at me like a tiger, and we closed. It was a hand-to-hand struggle for a minute or two-how long, exactly, I can't tell. I think he, would have got the best of me, if I had not pressed him-almost unconsciously- toward the edge of the ravine. It was there his foot slipped,'and-with my weight telling against him-he was hurled over. I should have go~ie too, if iliad n~t save4 myself by catching a:small tree.' He went down." Again the speaker's voice ceased abruptly. It was evidently only by.a 'strong effort that he had forced himself to utter the last words. These, words were simple enough, yet there was something in tbem-an.unspoken. power, an expressiOfl of reality-which thrilled every one present. They' all ~felt that they had listened to 'the truth. The magnetism of the youpg man's tones seep~edto bring befoj~e them, like a vivid picture, the midnight strug4 gle, with its awful ending. As for him, he laid one hand on the table to steady himself, while with the other be took up and drank oil' a glass of water.; lie had not finished. There was something still to tell and he must ~do it. No ofle; spoke.' Even Mr~ Colville for~ once was silent.' They waited eagerly, breathlessly, until he went on: "I was horribly startled when Tyndale fell-for I knew the height of the bank just there-and I waited for a minute that seemed 210 page: -211[View Page -211] A STRAIGHTFORWARD STORY. 211. to me an hour, to see if he would move or speak. Since he did neither, I spoke to him. He gave no answer. Then I struggled down the bank as well as I could in the dim light, and went to where he was lying. He "-a short pause-" he breathed once or twice af- ter I reached him, but he neither spoke nor groaned. That is all." "Not quite all," said Mr. Purcell, in a grave voice, after a moment's pause, To him, no more than to any one else~ did any doubt of the statement come. Sometimes there is an irresistible power in truth to ihake itself felt, and this was one of those o .~casions. No sane man could possibly have suspected that any thing like falsehood lurked behind Carl Middleton's white face, and simple, straightforward story. "There is one thing yet," said the magistrate. "If the death oc- curred as y~u have described, why did you not at once summon witnesses and acknowledge the share you had borne in it ? " "Because I was too horror-stricken and excited to take time for rational thought," the young man answered. "The first im- pulse which came to me when I realized what had happened, was to leave the spot. This I did at once. I retraced my steps to Wexford so rapidly, that I reached there in time for the Alton train, which I took. My undefined intention was to leave the country as soon as possible-not so much because I dreaded any consequences of what had occurred, as because I wished to fling it and all association with it behind me. But, yesterday, cooler thoughts came to mc. I began to realize that the right thing to do was to'come back and tell the truth, especially since I feared that some innocent person.-I did not think of Cap- tain Tyndale, however-might fall under sus- picion. The result proves that this instinct was a right one." "I am sorry-extremely sorry-that Cap- tain Tyndale should have suffered so much annoyance," said Mr. Purcell-it was worthy of note thateven such meagre expression of regret as this stuck in Mr. Colville's throat, as "amen" did in that of Macbeth-" I hope he will remember that I only did my duty ac- cording to the evidence given before me. Such disagreeable mistakes will occur some- times, but it gives me sincere pleasure to re- lease him from custody now, with-with an apology for his detention." "I think you are proceeding rather fast, Purcell," said his colleague, sti~y "The law receives with reluctance-great reluctance '-the evidence of a man against himself. There are one or two points yet to be considered in Mr.-ahem 1-Middleton's testimony. He does not assert, but he leads us to suppose," pro- ceeded this benig~.i minister of justice, "that the ruling motive of the conduct which he describes-very ungentlemanly and insulting conduct, in my opinion-was a violent passion for Miss Desmond, united with jealousy of Mr. Tyndale. But it is a well-known fact that Mr. Tyndale was engaged to Miss Grahame, and it is scarcely likely, therefore, that he should have been contemplating"(Mr. Colville was fond of long words which had an imposing effect) "an elopement with a young lady who is-as I understand-related to Miss Gra. hame." Before Carl could reply-though the quick lightning which leaped into his eyes replied for him-Norah rose and came forward. "Now is my opportunity!" she said, in a nervous whisper to Max, and Max did not try to detain her. He went forward with her, however, and stood by her side while she ad- dressed the magistrate. "If you will excuse me," she said-and her clear, sweet voice thrilled like music on all the listening ears, after the harsh, masculine tones to which they had been hearkening- "I s~houId like to answer now the question which was addressed to me before Mr. Mid~ dleton came in-the question relating tothe business which took Captain Tyndale to Straf- ford, and in which I have already said that I was concerned. It will serve to explain and in a measure substantiate the statement which Mr. Middleton has made." I am quite ready to hear any evidence that .yo~ have to offer," said Mr. Purcell, cour- teously. Elopement or no elopement, lie could not resist the charm which Norah's lovely countenance had for him. In fact, he credited nothing in her disfavor, and would not have minded breaking a lance for her iii his old-fashioned way. "I must ask you to believe, then, that it is with deep regret, and only to'explaia things which are misunderstood, and which may be misrepresented, that I speak," she said. "I am more than sorry-oh, much more than sorry-to utter any thing which may reflect discredit on the dead, or whieh can pain the living; but I have no alternative. In justice 'I I I page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 A DAUGHTER to myself I must ~state the truth-.~-.in which Captains Tyndale will bear me witness." She then began, and, with a clear, un- faltering voice, told the history of all that had occurred between Arthur and herself, together with the part which Max and Carl had played therein; a history which has al- ready been giv~i in detail, and need not again be given in general outline. Mr. Mid- dleton~writhed in his chair: but what could he say? Even if objection would have done any good, how could he object? He had sense enough to know that this, which was important to Norab, was essential to Carl. Without her evidence, the cause of his quar- rel with Arthur Tyndale would have rested on his single, unsupported assertion. Now it was proved beyond question by her testi- mony and that of Max, corroborating all that she said. After the last words were uttered, she drew down her veil and turned away. "That is all I" she said. Then she walked up to Mr. Middleton, who sat with one hand over his eyes, the other resting on the top of his gold-headed cane. "Will you take me to the carriage?" she said to him, in a low, depre- cating voice. "I suppose I may go now- maylnot?" "I suppose these gentleman will kindly allow you to do so, since they have gratified their curiosity by ferreting out all that they wanted to know," he answered, bitterly. He rose as he spoke and offered her his arm. Keenly as he resented her. conduct, "from first to last," as he said to himself, he would not for any consideration have seemed lack- ing in the most minute punctilio o~ respect- especially before all the curious eyes that were bent upon them. Leaning on his arm, she passed down the aisle which the curious crowd, killing back on either side, made-and so out of the justice-room. Mr. Middleton placed her in the carriage, which was waiting on the outside, and then closed the door. "After you havei~aken Miss Desmond to Rosland, bring the carriage back," he said to the coachman. "I must trouble you to explain my absence to my wife, Miss Desmond," he atded-very coldly- to Norah. "Tell her that I will conic as soon as possible-as soon as I get through with those men in yonder, and am able to bring Carl with me." "Had you not better write a line to Mrs. ,OF BOHEMIA. Middleton?" said Norah. "I-how can I tell her all that has occurred? It is not that I would shrink from the pain on my own ac- count," she added, eagerly, "but it would make it much worse to her if she heard it from me." He knew this was true. "Wait a minute, then," he said, and, opening his pocket-book, he began to scribble a few lines on a blank page. While he was so engaged, Max Tyn- dale (who had taken immediate advantage of his newly-acquired freedom) came up to the doorof the carriage. His face was still very pale, but, his dark eyes were glowing. "Are you going away without even giving me an opportunity to thank you for all that ~ou have done for me?" he said, in a low voice-a voice that seemed full of emotion. "What is there to thank me for?" she asked, almost brusquely. "I merely came forward and told the truth. It was you who were enduring suspicion and imprisonment sooner thai~-4han call on me for this evi- dence, as should have done at once." "As I~w9uId have endured a thousand times more~ a~ooner than have done 1" said he. "You canno1~7tell what I felt when I came in and saw yo4i-you cannot tell what I have endured duy:yig this last hour!" "It has been something very hard, even to me-something which I am not likely ever to forget;" she said. "But you see that, un- der any circumstances, it must have come to pass. There was no help for it. If I had not offered myself as a witness for you, I should, no doubt, have been summoned as a witness for Carl Middleton." "Have you suspected him at all?" asked he, looking at her intently. "Not at all-never for a moment. But I feared from the first that you might be sus- pected." "And Leslie-Miss Grahame! What has she thought ?-surely she has not believed that I was guilty?" "No; Leslie did not believe it," answered Norah. She spoke quietly, almost indiffer- ently; but there was a pang at her heart. It was of Leslie, he thought; not of her. She had periled Jier good name in his defense; but all that he cared to learn was whether Leslie, in the midst of her sorrow ~nd in the safe seeIusi~ of her home, had tl4~ught him guilty! At~.3east this was what Norak thought. Sb~would not look at him to read her mistake-if mistake it were-in his eyes. She was buttoning her glove, with fingers much more quick and nervous than her voice, when she said, "What will be the result of all this, us far as that mad boy is con- cerned?" "Nothing very serious, I hope," Captain Tyndale answered. "I left the magistrates deciding at what amount they will fix his bail. He will be at liberty until the grand. jury has taken cognizance of his cas'e." "And then?" "Then they may find a bill against him, and he may have to stand a trial, but the result can only be final acquittal. I have no doubt but that every thing occurred exactly as he states." "Nor I," said she, in a low voice. As she spoke, he saw that she was trem- bling, and it suddenly occurred to him to wonder jwhat Carl Middleton was to her. What right had he possessed to take upon himself the part of defender, which he had played with such woful results? Not that of an accepted suitor, certainly. His own avowal had made that much clear. Indeed, it was very evident that he had quitted Ros- land as a hopeless or rejected suitor. Rut many a hopeless or rejected suitor has pos- sessed the heart of the woman who rejected him, and that MaZ knew. He also knew enough of No~ah Desmond by this time, to be aware that she had sufficient pride to hold aloof even from the man she loved, if she thought that his family would be unwilling to receive her-and of the unwillingness of the Middletons there could be no question. These thoughts went through Max's mind like a fiash "I don't think you need be uneasy about Mr. Middleton," he said. "Your testimony supported his own so well that-" "Here is the note, Miss Desmond," said Mr. Middleton, coming between them. "I am very sorry to have detained you so long. -Bring the carriage back as quickly as pos- sible," he added to the coachman. At this hint Max felt that he must fall back. Not one straight look into Norah's eyes had he gained yet. "She is thinking too much of Middleton to care for me',' he thought, with that exquisitediscerntnent and reason which distinguishes a man to whom love begins to come as enlightened and mys. tifier both at once. Still he leaned forward NORAH'S RETUR N TO ROSLAND. 213 quickly, and took the hand which was ab. sently holding Mr. Middleton's note. "God bless you 1" he said, in a voice which rang in Norab's ears for many a long day afterward. "If I were to try forever I could never thank you for all that you have endured for me-for the revelation of you?. self you have made to me to.dayl There is much yet to be done-at Strafford-which claims my attention now, but I will ~ee you very soon." The words were little-the tone was every thing. If Norah had looked up, a single glaneemight have settled every thing between them; hut Norah did not look up. She dared not. Instinct warned her that tears-or a sug- gestion of tears-were in her eyes, and she wouldhave soonerdied(atI~ast so she thought) than show those tears to gax Tyndale. He was only meaning to th'~nk her -of that she felt sure-and what ere his thanks to her? She steadied her voice until it w~s al- most cold, as she said- "Good-by 0' Only that. The next moment her hand lay iii her lap-a poor, little crushed hand, if she had taken time or thought to feel its pain -and the carriage was driving rapidly away. CHAPTER XXXVI. "Man cannot make, bitt may ennoble fate, By nobly bearing It. So let us trust Not to ourselves, but God, and calmly wait Love's orient out of darkness and of dust. "Farewell, and yet again farewell, and yet Never farewell-if farewell mean to fare Alone and disunited. Love hath set Our days, in music, to the self-same air." WHEN Norah reached Rosland, her first act-after having sent the note of which she was the bearer, up to Mrs. Middleton-was to go to Leslie. She found her alone. From exhaustion and weariness, she had fallen into a light sleep, but the sound of the opening door, and the rustle of Norah's dress, as she crossed the room, wakened her. She caine back to consciousness with a start, but the sense of sorrow had not left her even in sleep, and she was spared that keen pang which usually comes with waking to those in grief. "Are you back, Norah?" she said, spring- page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 A DAUGHTER~ ing to a sitting posture. "Has Captain Tyn. dale been disoharg~d? Is it all over?" "It is all over," said Norah, coming to her side. "He has been discharged. I knew you would be glad to hear it, so Icame to you at once." "Yes, I am very glad to hear it," said Leslie. "But what a terrible charge to have been ~nade against him, of all people! Ar- thur's cousin-I almost feel as if he were Arthur's brother-Norah, were they mad to say such a thing of him?" "They had some show of reason for their suspicions," said Norab, hesitatingly. The truth must be told, and yet she scarcely knew how to tell it. "You know that he was in the grounds with me at midnight. We heard a shot-TI did not tell you this be. fore, dear-and it was then that Mr. Tyndale was killed. We thought very little of it at the time, but you can imagine that such a fact might have thrown suspicion on Captain Tyndale, especially since he would not ac. count for his absence by summoning me as a witness, or, indeed, by mentioning me at all." "Aunt Mildred told me that," said Leslie, simply. "It was not more than I should have expected of him." "It was more than I should have ex- pected," said Norah. "But that does not matter. Of course it was not likely that I should expect any thing more than common courtesy and respect. My testimony went very far toward clearing him," she added. "Indeed, I suppose it would have cleared him entirely, but-" "But what?" asked Leslie, anxiously, as she paused. "Is he not cleared?" "Yes-for the real circumstances of Mr. Tyndale's death are now known." "Known? Are they known?" said Leslie. She started violently, her eyes expanded, her face blanched even whiter than it had been before, her lips enclosed. "Norah I" she gasped. "How was it? Tell me I-I can bear any thing!" "There is nothing worse than you know akeady to bear," said Norah; but as she spoke her heart was beating at a suffocating rate. "Indeed, there may be something better. It scull be better to think that he died by acci- dent, than that he was murdered, will it not? That is what is now known." * "But, how is it known? "demanded Leslie, feverishly. "Norah, you are keeping some- SOF BOHEMIA. thing from me. I see it-I know it! But you need not be afraid-I can endure any thing! Have you not learned yet how strong I am?" "There is nothing to test your strength in this," said Norah, gently. "Mr. Tyndale's death was purely accidental. You must appre- ciate that, Leslie-you must put all thought of violence away from you-for it was-it was some one whom you know very well who was the unfortunate cause of his death." "Some one whom I know very well!" re- peated Leslie. As she spoke, a whirl of con- jectures passed through her mind. Then a ray. of intuition came to her, and just as Norah, who did not mean to keep her in sus- pense, was on the point of speaking, she ut- tered a cry. "Carl!" she said, catching her sister's hands, in a quick, nervous grasp. "Norab!" Was it-was it Carl ?" Her eyes were bent on Norah's face to de- tect any thing like evasion or subterfuge; but Norah had no intention of employing either. "Yes, itwas Carl," she answered, quietly-so quietly that her words had more of a sooth- ing than an exciting effect. "But, Leslie, you must listen to me, and you must believe me. He had no inure intention of killing Arthur Tyndale than I had." "How did he do it?" asked Leslie. Her lips seemed' parched. A sudden shivering sense of horror came over her. Carl! It had been 'Carl 1 Out of her own household had come: the slayer of the man she loved! Norah saiv that she was thinking this, and her voice sounded almost peremptory. "You must listen to me!" sle repeated. "It is only justice to do so." And then she told Carl's story better than Carl had told it himself-that is, she brought it even more forcibly ana clearly to the coin- prehensio~'ofher listener. She dwelt strongly, yet with 4nfinite gentleness and considera- tion, upon the state in which Max had left his cousin, thus making it apparent that Carl must have spoken truth when he said that Tyndale had been the aggressor in the strug- gle which ended so fatally. Leslie heard her without word or sign. She sank back on the pillows, and covered her face as she listened. When NoraWfinished, a low, shuddering sigh was her only comment on all that she had heard. After waiting vainly for a minute or two, the former bent over her. "Leslie," she said, "do you not believe F A SENSIBLE me ?-do you. not believe Carl? Do you not see that it was accident; and that he was not to blame, further than that he should not have interfered in what did fiot concern him?" "I see it all!" said Leslie-and the words were an absolute groan. " You were the be- ginning and end of the whole, Norah!" The words sounded so much like a re- proach, that Norah drew back. She had not meant to do ill, but just then her conscience stabbed her like a sword. It was true! She had been the beginning and the end of the whole! If she had not come to America, Leslie might have been happy still, no more deceived than many another woman has lived and died. But Leslie had not' meant her words for a reproach, and, feeling that retreat- ing motion, she looked up, holding out her hand. "Don't misunderstand me," she said; "I did no~ mean to blame you for what was no fault of yours. It is well that I should re- alize it. I was nothing; you were every thing. And it all came from his deception. But Carl-what will be done to Carl?" "Nothing-Captain Tyndale thinks. I have i~ot spoken to your uncle about it. I can see that he feels very bitterly toward me." "Why should he?" "Because, as you say, it has been through me that it has all eqine to pass. 0 Leslie, Leslie, can you forgh~e me? I shall never forgive myself-never, never!" Then all the over-wrought calm in which she had been holding herself for so long, gave way-and a great passion of tears burst forth -a passion that fairly startled Leslie, and yet did her good, for it drew her away from her- self. All the inherent gentleness and noble- ness of her character came out then. She put her arms around Norah's shaking form and uttered words of kindness, which the other never forgot. In that hour they be- came sisters in heart as well as in fact. To the tie of blood which hadrhitherto united them, Was added the deeper and rarer tie of sympathy and affection. The shock which would have divided forever two ordinary na- tures, bound these together, showed these one to the other more plainly and more clearly than years of surface intercourse could have done. Yet, when Norah recovered her self-con- trol, she announced a resolution which took RESOLUTION. 215 Leslie by surprise - which, amazed her, in- deed. "I have come to tell you that I must leave you," she said. "Surely you .are not surprised! Surely you know why I must go? It does not require either words or looks to tell me how unwelcome my presence is to your uncle and aunt." "Why should you think such a thing?" said Leslie. "They are too just to visit on you all that has occurred! Norah, you must not think of such a thing! It would be doing yourself a grave injustice in the eyes of the world. People would say-what would they not say if you left us now?" "What people say is a matter of very small importance to me," answered Norah. "I think very l(ttle-too little, perhaps-of that! Besides which, they are likely to say all that you fear, as it is. No, I cannot stay, Leslie-you must not press me to do so. I was wrong ever to come. This world is not my world. I must go back to Bohemia. You have been very good-very kind and very generous-to me, my dear. I shall never forget that. But still I must go." "Norah, it is impossible! Not now-not at once!" "At once!" said Norab, firmly.~ "I am told that a train for Alton leaves Wexford at four o'clock this afternoon. I must take that. Nay, Leslie, my dear Leslie, don't look at me ~so imploringly! You cannot tell how many reasons there are which force me to go. IC it seems terrible to you that I should start on such a voyage alone, remember that I have had a different training from any you can ever imagine. Nobody has ever shielded me from the world. I have gone everywhere and done every thing. It would be rather late, therefore, to begin to hesitate about doing this. Even if it seemed as terrible to me as it does to you, I must still do it-I must go." And his was the final ends of all argu- ments, a~I pleadings. She must still do it- she must go! Leslie at last saw that it was hopeless to oppose or attempt' to dissuade her. But, when Mrs. Middleton heard of. the intended departure, she was outraged. This seemed the crowning' stroke of all ~"orah's enormity. "What will people say?" was the thought. "For Leslie's sake, she must be stopped. 1 wish to Heaven she had never come, but since she Ace come, it would be the source of endless scandal for her to leave page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 2168 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEM4. like this!~' Yet even Mrs. Middleton remon- strated in vain. Norak was decided. She would g~. Mr~ Middleton, meanwhile, having settled with the magistrates about Carl's bail, was anxious to take the latter back to Rosland with him. But Carl, naturally enough, shrank from that. "It is impossible, sir," he said. "I must go away. I feel like Cain. It is true I did not kill the poor fellow-but lean- not forget that if I had not interfered in what was no affair of mine, if I had not lost my senses, he might be alive now! I cannot go ~back to Rosland. I cannot face Leslie and-and Miss Desmond, with that thought between us. It is impossible 1 "~ "Very well," said Mr. Middleton, with a sigh of resignation. "Where are you going? Back to Alton 1"' "Where everybody will be reading this in the morning papers and canvassing it to-mor- row ?-No I I could stand Rosland better than that! I shall go in the other direction- where, I don't know. The farther away, the better." "Go, if you wish to do so," said his uncle. "But don't carry any morbid ideas with you; to lead you into Tresh trouble, perhaps. lie- member that an accident is only an accident in the sight of man and God. After all," said he, shaking his head, "it may be as well for Leslie. I never had any liking for the * match, though I did not suspect Tyndale of such dishonorable conduct as he was plainly guilty of." So it happened that Mr. Middleton came back alone to Rosland-a ?act which was a * relief to every 6ne concerned. "It is, as well that Carl has gone," Mrs. Middleton said, "though it is hard that he should be forced to go." Then she added, bitterly: "Having * given as much trouble as possible in every other way, Miss Desmond is determined to cause any amount of unpleasant talk by leav- ing us Immediately after-after all that has taken place to-day." "Is she going away?" said Mr. Middle- ton. Men usually think less of "unpleasant talk," than women do, and he was honestly relieved by this news. "She has brought trouble enough in her train," he said. "Per- haps she may leave us a little peace when she goes. I think it is a sLensible resolution, Mil- dred." "It is a resolution which shows that she holds her ~'a~ne very lightly-but then, her whole conduct has proved gkat," said Mrs. Middleton. "One could expect nothing else from her rea~ng, I suppose; but it is hard on Leslie-very~4rard." "My dear," said her husband, with un- wonted gravity, " does it occur to you to re- member that her coming, and every thing connected with it, has been Leslie's fault? Do you recollect that morning-last May, was it ?-when we tried to dissuade her from such a step, and warned her of the ill consequences I that might result? I cannot forget that, if she had listened to reason and advice, none of all this would have ocwjrred." "I am sure it was very natural and very generous of her to desire such a thipg," said Mrs, Middleton, who was in arms for her dar- ling instantly. "Though I tried to dissuade her, I knew that, and felt that it was natural, at the time. But there was no excuse for Arthur Tyndale-none! Not any more than for this Bohemian girl I" "I am half afraid that this Bohemian girl, as you call her, may end by marrying Carl at last," said Mr. Middleton, uneasily. "It would be an awful blow if she did, and for that reason I am glad to hear of her in- tended departure. The sooner she goes the better, Mildred-you may be sure of that! What doer a little gossip, more or less, mat- ter in com~arisou-with serious mischief; and I tell you that woman is made to work mischief wherever she goes!" In view of this emphatic opinion, Mrs. Middleton made little further effort to detain Norab. Not that any effort would have mat- 1~rcd, or changed the girl's resolution. She felt too plainly th~ coldness and suspicion which~ sui~rounded her, to be able to endure such an atmosphere any longer. Besides which, there was a reason of her own-a pri- vate reason-in the background which im- pelled her to go. More than ever she con- gratulated herself upon having insisted upon being supplied with money enough for such an emergency. "I may not be able to en- dure these people for a day," she had said to her father. "I will not go unless you give me the means to return immediately, if I choose to do so.'~ And he, after much demur, was obliged to comply with this demand, though he cherished a warm hope that, in- stead of coming back immediately, Norah might be going to make or win her fortune. U MISS DESMOND' Norah thought rather grimly of those hopes and anticipations, as she packed her trunk. They would h~ve a downfall indeed, when she walked, penniless, in upon her father and Kate, in the shabby Dublin lodgings, which she knew so well. She was nervously anxious to be off; how- ever; and insisted upon leaving as soon as luncheon was over, though Mr. Middleton assured her that the train was not due in Wexford until four o'clock. "It is better to be too early than too late!" she said; and, when the carriage came to the door, she went at once to Leslie's ro9m te~ say farewell. This had been something from which she shrank-with reason. It was bitterly painful on both sides-so painful, that it was short and almost speechless . "This is not the end, Norah," Leslie whispered, with pale, quivering lips. "It cannot be the end of all I hoped-wished-planned. Some day we must meet again. Promise me that." "I see no hope of it now," Norah an- swered. "But if ever there i8 hope, dear, I promise!" And so-they parted, When Norah came down-stairs, she found Mrs. ~audI'ord lfl the hail with Mrs. Middle- ton. The costume of the former was a work of art, expressing chastened regret in the most charming and becoming manner. She was not one of the class of people who wear black dresses to weddings, or gay ribbons at a funeral; it was a point of pride with her to be always dressed according to the oc- casion, and, since she was in a house of mourning, she dressed, if not exactly in mourning, at least in sympathy with mourn- ing. It must have been a very dull person who would not have appreciated at a glance the exquisite sentiment displayed in her at- tire. Her dress of black grenadine was re- lieved by soft white frills Qf illusion, and, in- stead of a jeweled pendant with a chain like a cable, a plain gold cross on a band of black velvet showed to great advantage the white roundness of her throat. She came forward after Mrs~ Middleton had taken leave of No- rak-with an heroic effort to appear cordial '-and held out her pretty, white hands, bound with jet bands (also for sympathy) at the wrists. "I am so sorry that you are going, Miss Desmond," she said-her blue eyes wide open, her dark (penciled) eyebrows arched-" but S DEPARTURE. 217 we must part good friends-I insist upon that! You must forgive all the unlucky mistakes I have made, one way or another, and, if you ever come back to America, I shall be 80 glad to see you at my house in Alton." "You are very good," said Norah, in a tone compounded equally of coldness and scorn, "but it is not at all likely that I shall ever come back to America" (this was what Mrs. Sandford had specially desired to learn), "I am willing to shake hands, however, and wish you much health and happiness, if that is what you mean by parting good friends." "Oh, I mean more, much more than that," said Mrs. Sandford, with effusion; and before the girl could draw back, she had leaned for- ward and kissed her. "Have you no message for Captain Tyndale 1"' she asked then, with the pleasure which she felt springing, whether she would or no, into her eyes. "Surely you are not going away without leaving a word for him-after your bravery in his behalf, too! I assure you that I shall be very glad to de- liver any message." "I have nothing with which to trouble you," said Norah, even more coldly than be. fore. She drew down her veil abruptly, and turned to Mr. Middleton. "I am ready," she said. He put her into the carriage, and followed himself. To do him justice, he would will- ingly have gone with her to Alton, or even to the seaboard, if Arthur Tyndale's funeral had not interfered. But his first duty, as he said to his wife, was there. He bad told Miss Desmond that, if she would defer her de- parture for twenty-four hours, he would ac- company her; but this offer Miss Desmond declined. There was nothing for him to do, therefore, but to take her to Wexford, see her safely on the train, and telegraph to a friend in Alton to meet her at that point and see that she was safely started with a through- ticket for New York. N~t more than half an hour after the car- riage had rolled away, Mrs. Sandfo' d was sitting on the veranda alone - feeling very much depressed, exceedingly bored, and a little inclined to regret that she had not borne Miss Desmond company as far as Al. ton. The only thing which kept her at Ros- land now was the consideration of Max. She was not likely to forget; that his cousin's death made him pwner of Strafford, and much more besides-elevating him from a fair sub- page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] '218 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. ject for flirtation to a very gbodparli. The fancy which she had entertained for him all the time, she now felt could very readily become more than a fancy, in the light of this great good fortune. He was one of the few men whom she had ever met who was thoroughly izidifferent to her, and for that reason, more than any other, perhaps, she had bent, and was prepared yet to bend, all her energies to his subjugation. She was thinking of him as she sat under the green shade of the vines, in a low, luxurious chair-as bewitching a pict- ure, taken all in all (stained eyebrows and, powdered complexion thrown~ in!) as a man could ask to see even on that golden summer afternoon. But Max Tyndale was not thinking of be- witching pictures, or caring to see them, as he crossed the lawn where he had last been on the night of the dinner-party, and ascended the veranda-steps on which he had parted with Leslie when he went hi search of Arthur. These things haunted him, together with the dead face he had left behind at Strafford, and, though it wa~ impossible for him not to de- sire to meet Norah, he was able to say hon. estly that he had not come to Rosland for that purpose. He wanted to see Mr. Middle- ton with regard to some of the final arrange- ments which had been left undecided, and he also wanted to escape 'from Strafford and the intolerable gossips who filled it. Nothing was further from his wishes, however, than to meet Mrs. Sandford, and so he started, and did not look particularly pleased, when that fair widow rose out of the green nook and waylaid him, wUh extended hands. "Ah," she said, with a faltering voice, "how can I tell you how glad, how very glad I am to see you!" "Thanks-you are very kind," said Max, taking one of the hands-he could not have conveniently taken the other also, unless he had dropped his hat on the floor-and giving it a nonchalant, indifferent shake which irri- tated its owner very much. Then it occurred to him that he ought to say that he was glad to see her, but, since this would have been stretching the truth to a really alarming ex- tent, he asked, instead, how she was. "Oh, thank you, quite well," she said-for she was very much piqued-" I have sineS been well," she added, on second thought, "but I am better to-day-at least this afternoon. 0 Captain Tyndale ! "-a delicately worked and scented handkerchief went to her eyes - "when I think of all that has occurred since I saw you last, I-oh, I wonder how we have all lived through it!" "We can live through a great deal," said Max, knitting his straight, dark brows a little: It is hard to say how this woman's artificial words and tones jarred on him -how he shrank from hearing her touch with any shal- low, ready-made platitudes the subject of that tragedy which had been so awfully real. "How is Miss Grahame?" he asked. "It must have been a terrible ordeal to her." "Leslie bears it better than might have been expected," said Mrs. Sandford; "much better, I am sure, than 1 could have done. She seems almost like herself to-day-though her sister's departure was quite a shock to her." "I suppose you mean her going to Wex- ford this morning," said he. "It was a shock to me-that is, I deeply regretted it-but it was so bravely and unconsciously done-" "Excuse me," interrupted his listener, rather sharply, "I meant what I said-her departure /-Lsee that you are not aware that she has left Rosland." He started, and looked at her keenly. "Do you mean that Miss Desmond has left Rosland?" he said. "Where is she going?" "She left half an hour ago. I think, as well as I understoodthat she is going~o Ireland. Of course it is very natural that she cannot stay here after the expos which has- Good Gracious, Captain Tyndale! What is the matter? What are you going to do?" "I am going to Wexford in order to see Miss Desmond before she leaves," he an- swered, turning quickly away. "It is "- glancing at his watch-" only half-past three. The Alton train is not due, I think I was told, until four. That gives me time enough to reach there." "You are really very devoted," said Mrs. Sandford, sarcastically. "But you must par. don me if I say that I doubt whether Miss Desmond will be very glad to see you. At least, I asked her expressly if she would not leav~ a word or a message for you, and she answered as coldly and curtly as possible that she had nothing to say." "I am unlike her, then," said he, quietly, "for I have a great deal to say, and I am sure you will excuse me if I go at once, in order to be able to say it2' MAX'S PJ He then made no farther apology, but went with all haste to the stable where, much to the ostler's astonishment, he ordered out the best saddle-horse. Five minutes later, he was galloping out of the gates of Rosland. Mrs. Sandford watched him, with bitter, angry eyes, from the veranda. She knew now that all was over, and the realizatiQn cost her a very sharp pang. It was a pang in which wounded vanity played a greater part than wounded feeling; but it was none the less hard to bear on that account. A lacerated amour-propre is almost as painful as a lacer- ated heart, though it is a very strong point in its favor that it can be cured more readily. She went into the house after the rider dis- appeared from sight, and told her maid to pack her trunk. "This time to-morrow I shall go back to Alton," she said-which was her way of beginning a cure. Mak, the while, galloped, without draw- ing rein, 'into Wexford, and, disregarding the many curious glances cast on him, did not pause until he found himself before the rail- road-station. The train was already there, had been there for some minutes, a lounger told him. It was evident that he would not have time for more than a word with Norab, but even a word was worth much, and his eagerness for it increased with the apparent hopelessness of gaining-it. He sprang off his horse, and, throwing the rein with a quick, "Pray, oblige me!" to the man who had given the information, hurried along the plat- form to the cars. As he came in sight of them, the engine suddenly gave its warning shriek of departure-at the same moment he saw Mr. Middleton shake hands quickly with a veiled lady who sat by one of the open win- dows-the next instant, with a rumble and clang of machinery the long train started into motion and sped swiftly out of sight. -4-- CHAPTER XXXVII. "Fair, and kind, and gentle one! Do not morn and stars and flowers, Pay that homage to their sun, That we pay to ours? "Sun of mine, that art so dear- Sun that art above all sorrow I ShIne, I pray thee, on me here Till the eternal morrow!'~ Ox the deck of the Cunard steamer, out- ward bound from New York on the Saturday PROPOSAL. 219 following Miss Desmoud's departure from Rosland, there was all the hurry, bustle, and confusion, the shaking hands of friends, the kisses of relations, th&tears and laughter, the good wishes, the waving handkerchiefs, the brass-bound trunks and general bouleversement common to such occasions. In the midst of it, a young lady who had come unattended on board, walked across the deck, and, taking her position on the side which overlooked the water, not the wharf, quietly turned~ her back upon all the commotion. There is nothing in the world, perhaps, more forlorn than to be alone in such a scene, to have no fare- wells to give or receive, no friends to hope that you may have a pleasant voyage, no hand to clasp, no good wishes to exchange. But to such a feeling of isolation, Norah Desmond had long since grown accustomed. If she felt it a little now-if she was drearily con- scious of her loneliness amid all the eager, chattering crowd-no one would ever have thought so, as she stood by the taifrail in all the grace of her self-possessed bearing, with her beautiful, clear-cut face turned seaward, as if she drank in the salt breeze coming so freshly from the wide, liquid plain which lay far oil'. The attention of every one else being turnedtoward the city they were leaving, she was almost alone on this side of the deck; and, as she watched with wistful eyes the distant horizon line, her mind left her present surroundings to go back upon all that had oc- curred-the events which had followed each other so fast-since she landed here so short a time before. How short a time it had been! -and yet how much had happened! Norah could scarcely realize how much. "Yet the end of it all is that I am going back to the old, weary life of vagabondage 1" she thought, with something between a sigh and a sob It was a quick, nervoxis sound in her throat, more significant of emotion than a hundred undisguised sobs could have been. But Bohemia teaches her children a better philosophy than that of mourning over any milk, spilt or otherwise. The old defiant light came back to Norah's eyes in a minute, the old defiant compression to her lips. "It is the life to which I was born," she thought. "What right have I to expect any other? What is the sense of regretting that which is past ?-what is the sense of 4jining about that which is to come? The day is bright, and th~ sea is smooth, and I well, I an~ page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMiA. young. When one has youth, one has-or ought to have-hope. The great world of the Possible is all before me * a ad yet-and yet-" 11cr head drooped a little. Was it a tear that dropped into the briny, discolored water below? Just then Bohemia might have hesi- tated to own her child; and just then a tall man, with long, dark mustache and keen dark eyes, who had been making his way in a very inquisitive manner among the throng- ing crowd on the other side of the deck, hur- ried over to this side and looked around. lie had been the last passenger to come up the ship's side, and as he stood there now, with a wrap hanging carelessly across his arm, there was a jaded look on his face, as if he had traveled long and far. It was only a second that~ he hesitated. The next instant he caught sight of the stately, graceful figure which he knew so well, and a few quick steps took him to Norah's side. "How glad I am to find you!" he said, breathlessly. "I was almost afraid that there might be some mistake! -that you might not be on board!" "Captain Tyndale!" exclaimed Norah. She turned upon him pale, astonished, quiver- ing from head to foot. "How is this? How did you come here?" "By rail most of the way," ho answered, smiling. It was such a pleasure to see her again-to meet her frank eyes, to hear 'her sweet voice-~-that it is likely he would have smiled if he had been going to execution the next minute. "Did you not know that I was going to cross in this steamer?" he * asked, with an admirable assumption' of non- chalance. "If I had not been just one min- ute too late in reaching Wexford the day you left-thanks to Mrs. Sandford, who detained me to hear that you had refused to icayc me even a message of common farewell-I should have told you so." "You-is it possible you are going to cross?" said Norah, incredulously. "I did not think that you would go abroad again- that is, so soon." "May I ask, why not?" "Because "-she blushed and hesitated- "because you ha~ve inherited your cousja's fortune, have you not?" "I believe people suppose that I have," he answered, carelessly, "but I have not taken time to ascertain whether they are right or wrong. There was something nearer my heart, and of much more importance to me than a hundred inheritances could be," he added, quickly. "Norab-can you not guess what that was?" "You have become very1 familiar since we parted, Captain Tyndale," said Norah, who was herself again by this time. "No, I cannot guess in the least what it was, unless you mean to resign your commission in the French army. But, you should have taken a French steamer, should you not?" This will land you at Liverpool, unless you land en peasant, as I shall do, at Qucenstown." "I should have taken no other steamer than the one on which you sailed," he an- swered. "As for my commission, I have not thought of it any more than of my probable inheritance. You know as well as I do," he said, breaking off suddenly, in a quick, short, passionate voice, "that I have thought only of ~you I " "Of me!" ejaculated Norab, scarcely knowing what she said, Her heart was beat- ing and thrilling as it had not beat or thrilled on that summer evening at Baden, when Ar- thur Tyndale told l~is love, or on that autumn evening at Coblentz, when he said good-by. What she felt tken had been flattered fancy, girlish romance, any thing but this strange feeling, which seemed to take away all her graceful readiness of speech, and leave her as silent and abashed as any convent-bred girl; "Yes, of you," said Max, growing bolder, as he saw the white lids sink over her eyes, and the clear carmine come into her cheeks as he had fancied one day at Rosland that he should like to make it come. "Did I not tell you when we parted in Wexford, after you had borne so much for mc, that I should see you very soon again-and did you think that I would let such trifles as time and space stand between you and the expression of my gratitude?'~ "Spare me the expression of your grati- tude, Captain Tyndale," said she, almost im- patiently. "I have no claim on it-no desire for it. I did a very plain and simple act of duty-nothing more! If there is any grati- tude necessary in the matter, it is Iwho owe it to you. It was you who were willing to en- dure more than I like to remember for me!" "And did you not think-did no instinct tell you-what a happiness it was to me to endure any thing for you?" said he. "Did 220 A SATISFACTION you not guess tkat much at least of the truth?" "No," said she-and her voice trembled. *" How could I guess it? How could I think that I was any thing to you but a girl whom your cousin had narrowly escaped making a fool of himself by marrying?" "If you were even that to me," said he, "it was so long ago, that it seems swept into the dimness of memory. What you have been to me of late, I scarcely know how to tel! you without making you think that I have gone wild with the extravagance of passion." "I can scarcely fancy that," said she, turning her face seaward again. The steamer was out of the docks by this time, and a fresh breeze met them-a breeze to make the heart leap up with the spirit of its gladness. It deepened the flush on Norah's cheek, and waved back the short fringe of her chestnut hair, showing the fair, candid brow which it has been the policy of fashion to conceal as much as possible for some time past. She looked more like a beautiful princess than ever, Max thought, and the doubts and fears which had borne him company on all the long journey from Alton, came back upon him now with sudden force. After all, would his heart prove any thing more than a new plaything to this fair Bohemian, this woman who had jarred upon and disgusted him, and yet whom he could no more help loving than the earth could refuse to put forth bud and leaf and flower at the bidding of the sun? He could not tell-it was likely enough; and yet, for good or ill, his heart was hers. He knew that now. Standing beside her, trying vainly to read the riddle of her averted face, he felt that he would freely sign away every other good gift of life, if only he might claim and ~possess this one for his own. At last, out of very impatience, he broke the silence which had lasted between them for some time. "We are off!" he said. "We are on the sea together, you and I! Norab, you have not told me yet-are you glad or sorry that I came?" "Is it necessary for me to be either?" asked she, with a slight cadence of laughter in her tone. After all, a man is deaf as well as blind when he is in love, or Max would have known every thing from that tone. "You must be one or the other," said he. "I am your only acquaintance on board, am I not? In that case you will have to see so ~RY ANSWER. 221 much of me that you mu8t be either glad or sorry that I came." "In that case, I suppose I am not sorry," said she, sihiling. "It is rather dull being quite alone, though I ought to be used to it by this time, and then I always manage to make acquaintance, or, to put it more cor- rectly, people manage to make my acquaint. ance." "I hope you will not let any of these people make your acquaintance, for I am selfish enough to want your society all to my- self until we reach Qucenstown." "But can you not imagine that I might like a little variety?" asked she, laughing again. "I might not want your society all the time until we reach Queensthwn 1" "That is very true. I should have thought of that, perhaps. Will you promise, then, to take as mueh of me as you want, and to dis. miss me without ceremony when you do not want me?" "I am not sure that I should not dismiss you at once," said she, turning her bright, fearless eyes upon him. "I have had more than enough of 'blarney' in my life-you can imagine that, perhaps and my head ou~ht to be steady enough to stand any amount of it by this time; bu't I am really afraid of the effect of your blarney for nine days at sea. Now, that is a compliment for you," she ended, with a smile that was rather forced. "I shall go back with the pilot if you say so," he answered, quietly-but his face grew paler as he spoke. "You know why I have come," he went on, after a short pause. "I only waited at Strafford, as I was in duty bound to do, until poor Arthur's funeral was over. Then I followed you, without pause or arest, as fast as steam could bring me, in order to say, face to face, that I love you: in order to ask you to be my wife. Norah "-with a passionate cadence in his voice-" you cannot imagine half how well I love you! Norah, will you not be my wife?" Only the simple words as they rose out of his heart to his lips. No eloquence-no at- tempt at eloquence. Indeed, men rarely use fine phrases when they are in such deep earnest as Max Tyndale was then; and he on his part felt the suspense too sharply not to desire to end it at once. But it was not ended as far as any word from Norah Desmond was concerned. She turned her face from him page: 222-223 (Advertisement) [View Page 222-223 (Advertisement) ] A DAUGHTER OF BOHEMIAN. quickly-almost abruptly-and gazed seaward again. Yet, as she gazed, a mist came over her sight, obscuring all the green beauty of the waves, 'and her heart seemed beating in her throats It was not altogether her fault that she was silent; she tried to speak, and failed to utter a word. So, after a minute~ Max went on: "Norab, is there no hope for me? I sup. pose I am mad to come to you like this-mad to think that you, who have known so many men, could learn to love me-but I could not bear to leave any chance untried. I could not bear to burden my life with the haunting regret of thinking that I might, perhaps, have won you if I had only spoken in time. I thought it better to risk every thing on a single stake, and rise up-winner or loser for life. Norah-which is it to be?" "How can you speak to me like this?" said she, turning upon him passionately. "You know youdo not love me-or, if you do, it is merely after a fashion, for my pretty face! You do not care for me as-as you care for Leslie! You are enough of a gentleman to have showed me more respect than any one ever did before-for which, to my dying day, I shall never, never forget you! But, in your heart you hold me in the colors Arthur Tyn- dale painted me. You think me fast-Bohe. rnian, bizarre-" She paused abruptly, or, to speak more correctly, he interrupted her by taking into his possession the hand lying on the.taffrail. "Do not wrong yourself and me by such words aa these!" he said. "I think of you as I think of the sun which is giving life to the world. You are m~i sun-the only one thing which can give light and fragrance to my life. Not care for you as I care for Leslie Gra- hame! My darling, are you blind? Leslie Grahame is nothing to me, and you are every thing-every thing, Norah! What I may once have though of you-in what colors poor Arthur may once have painted you- has passed from me as absolutely as if it had never been. I can neither ask nor de- sire any change in you as I know you and love you now!" She looked up at him with tears, which she did not try to conceal, shining in her eyes. A new beauty-a beauty full of the most exquisite softness-came over her face. It was the happy content of the child mm. gled with the tender joy of the woman. "Are you in earnest?" she said. "Do you really think all this of me? It isvery gqod of you, but you are wrong-quite wrong. I am full of faults which will shock you and jar upon you. Think what my life has been! You cannot tell-you cannot even guess- half that I have gone through!" "You shall never go through any more- never so long as God gives me power to shield you!" he said. Then he covered her hand eagerly in both his own. "You have not told me yet whether I must go back with the pilot or not," he said. 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