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"If it wore not so, would I have told you?" John 14:2.Dean Alford's version. Would I have told thee, troubled soul, With heart so full of care, That in my Father's house of light The many mansions are Would I have said, "Behold I go To make a place for thee" Unles- my words were very truth Have bid thee, "Tru&t in me?" Would I have told thee groping one, "I am the Truth, the Way," If walking, closely held by me, One ever went astray? Would I have said, "Of this dark world I am the shining light, Walk steadfast, firm, securely on, Thy path shall know no night?" Would I have told thee that I am The Shepherd of the sheep, To shelter thee from every storm, Close watch and ward to keep? I am the only door by me If any enter in, He shallfindrest unto his soul, Divinely saved from sin9 Would I have called thee by thy name, Have told thee, "Thou art mine?" Have bid thee live, abide in me, As branches in the vine O, child' I am a present help In every time of need Como find in me a resting place, Come trust in every deed. A little while thou seest me not, Again a little while, Thy raptured eyes shall see my face, Shall brighten 'neath my smile! Here all things darken, fade, grow old, Behold! I make all new! And thou shalt set thy feeble seal To witness, God is true. FOUND ON THE TRACK. Wet and dreary. It is midwinter: the scene in Kirlington, on the London and Northwestern the time 10.45 just after the night mail has flashed through with out stopping, bound for Liverpool and the North. The railway officialspoints men, signalmen, porters, platelayersare collecting preparatory to going off duty for the night. "Where's Dan!" asks one of the crowd upon the platform. hut just after the Can't have come to kI A saw him in the I 10.45 went through, any harm surely." "No he said he'd seen something drop from the tram, and he went down the line to pick it up And Dan had picked up something. It was a basketa eommon white wicker basketwith a lid fastened down with a string What did it contain? Refresh ments? Dirty clothes? What? A baby I a child half a dozen weeks old, no more a pink and white piece of human china as fragile as Dresden and as delicately fashioned and tinted as biscuit or Rose Pompadour. "Where did you come across it? asked one "Lying on the line, just where it fell. Perhaps it did not fall perhaps it was chucked out. What matter? I've got it and got to look after it that's enough for me. Some day maybe I'll come across them as owns it, and then they shall pay me and take it back." "Is there nothing about him? Turn him over.*' The little mite's linen was white and of hue material, but he lay upon an old shawl and a few bits of dirty flannel. All they found was a dilapidated purse a common snaplock bag-purse of faded brown leather Inside was a brass thim ble, a pawn ticket and the half of a Bank of England note for 100. "What good's half a bank note to you?" "Half a loaf's better than no bread." "Yes you can eat one, but you can't pass the other. Won you catch it from your wife! How'll you face her, Dan? What'll she say?" "She'll say I done quite right," replied Dan, stoutly. "She's a good sort, God bless her." "So are you, Dari that's a fact. God bless you, too," said more than one rough voice in softened accents. "Per haps the childll bring you luck after all." Winter-tide again six years later, but this season is wet and slushy. Once more we are at Kirklington, along strag gling village, which might have slumber ed on in obscurity forever had not the Northwestern line been carried close by it, to give it a place in Bra-^shaw and a certain importance as a junction and cen ter for goods traffic. But the activity wab all about the station. All the per manent officials had houses and cottages there in the village lived only the field laborers who worked at the neighboring estate, or sometimes lent their hand for a job of nawying on the line. These poor folk had a gruesome life of it, a hard hand-to-mouth struggle for bare ex istence against perpetual privation, ac companied by unremitting toil. A new parsonHarold Treffryhad come lately to Kirklington. He was an ernest, energetic young man, whp had won his spurs in the East End parish, and had now accepted this country liv ing because it seemed to open up anew field of usefulness. He had plunged bravely into the midst of his work he was forever going up and down among his parishioners, solacing and comforting^ preaching manful endurance and trust fulness to all. He is now paying a round of parochial visits, accompanied by an old college chum, who is spending some dajs with him^ "Yonder," said Treffy, pointing to a thin thread of smoke which rose from gaunt trees into the sullen wintry air, "yonder is the houseif, indeed, "it de serves so grand a namethe hovel, rather, of one whose case is the hardest of all the hard ones in my Unhappy cure. This man is a mere hedger and ditcher, one who works for any master, most often for the railway, but who is never certain of a job all the year round. He has a swarm* of young children, and he has just lost his wife. He is absolutely prostrat ed aghast, probably at the future before him and his utter incapacity to do his duty by his motherless little ones. Jack!" said thje parson, stopping short suddenly, and looking straight into his companion's faoe, "I wonder whether you Could rouse him? If you could only get him to make a sign to cry or laugh or take the small est interest in common affairs. Jack, I believe you're the yery man. You might get at him through the children?^-that marvelous hanky-panky of yours, those surprising tricks a child takes to yott naturally at once. Try and make friends with these. Perhaps, when the father sees them interested and amused, he may warm a little, speak, perhaps, approve, perhaps smile, in the end give in. Jack, will ydu try?" Jack Newbiggin was by profession a conveyancer, but nature had intended hinHor a new Houdin, or a Wizard of the North. He was more 'than half a professional by the time he was full grown. In addition to the quick eye andfchefacile wrist, he had the rarer gifts of suave manner and the face of brass. They entered the miserable dwelling together. The childreneight of them were skirmishing all over the floor. They were quite unmanageable, and be yond the control of the eldest sister, who was busied in setting out the table for the mid-day meal one other child, of six or seven, a bright-eyed, exceedingly beau tiful boy, the leastwere not nature's va garies well knownhkely to be born among and belong to such surroundings, stood between the legs of the man him self, who had his back turned to the vis itora and was crouching over the scanty fire. The man turned his head for a moment, gave a blank stare, than an impercepti ble nod, and once more he glowered down upon the fire. "Here, little ones, do you see this gen tleman? he's a conjuror. Know what a conjuror is, Tommy?" cried the parson, catching up a mite of four or fhve from the floor. "No, not you nor you, Sarah nor you, Jacky"and eran through all their names. They had now ceased their gambols, and were staring hard at their visitors the moment was propitious Jack New biggin began. He had fortunately filled his packets with nuts, oranges, and cakes before leaving the parsonage, so he had half his apparatus ready to hand. The pretty boy had very soon left the father at the fire, and had come over to join in the fun, going back, however, to exhibit his share of the spoil and describe voluminously what had occured. This and the repeated 9houts of laughter seem ed to produce some impression on him. Presently he looked over his shoulder, and saidbut without animation "It be very good of you, sir, smely very good for to take so kindly to the little chicks. It does them good to laugh a bit, and it ain't much as they've had to make 'em lately." "It is good for all of us, now and again, I take it," said Jack, desistfcig, and going toward himthe children gradually col lecting in a far-off corner and comparing notes. "You can't laugh, sir, if your heart's heavy if you do, it can be only a sham." While he was speaking he had taken tho Bible from the shelf, and resuming his seat, began to turn the leaves slowly over. "I'm an untaught, rough countryman, sii, but I've heard tell that these strange things you do aie only tricks ain't it so, sir?" Heie was, indeed, a hopeful symptom! He was loused then, to take some inter est in what had occured. "All tricks of course it all comes from long practice," said Jack, as he proceed ed to explain some of the simple processes, hoping to enchain the man's attention. "That's what I thought, sir, oi I'd have given you a job to do. I've been in want of a real conjuror many a long day, and nothing less'll do. See here, sir," he said, as he took a small, carefully-folded paper from between the leaves of the Bi ble "do you see this?" It was half of a Bank ef England note for 100. "Now, sir, could any corjuror help me to find the other half?" "How did you come by it?" asked Jaok, at once. "I'll tell you, sir, short as I can make it. Conjuror or no conjuror, you've got a kindly heart, and I'm main sure that you'll help me if you can." Dan then described how he had picked up the basket from the 10.45 Liverpool express. "There was the linen I ve kept it. See here all marked quite pretty and proper, with lace around the edges, as though its mother loved to make the lit tle one smart." Jack examined the linen it bore a monogiam and crest. The first he made oat to mean H. L. M. and the crest was plainly two hammers crossed, und the mot to, "I strike"not a common crestand he never rememoered to have seen it be fore. "And this was all?" '"Cept the banknote. That was in a poor old purse, with a pawn ticket and a thimble. I kept them all." Like a true detective, Jack examined every article minutely. The purse bore the name of Hester Gorngan, in rude let ters inside, and the pawn ticket was made out in the same name. "I cannot give you much hope that I shall succeed, but I will do my best. Will you trust me with the note for a time?' "Surely, sir, with the greatest of pleas ure. If you could but find the other half, it would give Harrythat's what we call himsuch a grand start in life schooling and the price of binding him to some honest trade." Jack shook the man's hand and prom ised to do his best and left the cottage. When Jack Newbiggin got back to the parsonage he found that his host had ac cepted an invitation Jfor them both to dine at the 'Big House," as it was called the country seat of the squire of the Par ish. They were cordially received at the "Big House." Jack was handed over forewith to his old friends, who figura tively rushed into his arms. They were London acquaintances, no more of the sort we meet here and there and every where, during the season, who care for us, and we for them, as much as for the South Sea Islanders, but whom we greet with rapturous efiusion when we meet them in a strange place. Jack knew the lady whom he escorted to dinner as a gossipy dame, who, when his back was turned, made as much sport of him as of her other friends. "I have been fighting your battles alH day," began Mrs. Sitwell. "Was it necessary? I should have thought myself too insignificant." "They were talking at lunch of your wonderful knack in conjuring, and some one said that the skill might prove in convenientwhen you played cards, for. instance." mm Jbund i 'A charitable imputation! With whom did it originate?" F*t Hi "W.-WK, .J*?MfVim*&4s^ "Sir Lewis Mallaby." "Please point him out to me." He was shown a grave, scowling face upon the right of the hostessa face like a mask, its surface rough and wririkled, through which the eyes shone out1 with baleful light, ilke the corpse-candles in a sepulcher. "Pleasant creature! I'd rather noimeet him alone on a dark night." "He has a terrible character, certainly, Turned his wife out of doors because' she would not give him an heir. It is this want of children to inherit his title and estates which preys upon his mind, they say and makes him so morose and mel ancholy." Jack let his companion chatter on. It was his habit to get all the information possibleabout any company in which he himself for his own purposes as a clairvoyant and when Mrs. Sitwell flagg ed, he plied her with questions and lee her on from one person to another making mental notes to serve him hereafter. It is thus by careful and laborious prepara tion that many oi* the strange and seem ingly mysterious feats of the clairvoyant conjurer are performed. When the whole party assembled in the drawing room after dinner, a chorus of voices, headed by that of the hostess, summoned Jack to his work. There ap peared to be only one dissentient, Sir Lewis Mallaby, who not only did not trouble himself to back up the invitation, but when the performance was actually begun was at no pains to conceal his'con tempt and disgust. The conjuror made the conventional plum pudding in a hat, fired wedding rings into quartern loves, did all manner of card tricks, knife tricks, pistol tricks, and juggled on conscientiously right through his repertoire. There was never a amile on Sir Lewis' face he sneered un mistakably. Finally, with an ostenta tion that savored of rudeness, he took out his watch, a great gold repeater, looked at it, and unmistakably yawned. Jack hungered for that watch directly he saw it. Perhaps through it he might make its owner uncomfortable, if only for a moment. But howjto get it into his hands? He asked for a watcha dozen were offered. No none of these would Ho. It must be a gold watch, a repeater. Sir Lewis Mallaby's was the only one in the room and he at first distinctly refused to lend it. But so many entreaties were addressed to him, the hostess leading the attack, that he could not in common courtesy continue to refuse. With some thing like a growl he took his watch off the chain and handed it to Jack Newbig gin- A curious old-fashioned watch it was, which would have gladdened the heart of a watch collector, all jeweled and en ameled, adorned with crest and inscrip tionan heirloom, which had probably been in the Mallaby family for years. Jack looked it over curiously, meditative ly, then suddenly raising his eyes he stared intently into Sir Lewis Mallaby's face, and almost as quickly dropped them again. "This is far too Valuable," he said cour teously, too much of a treasure to be risked in any conjuring trick an ordina ry modern watch I might replace, but not a work of art like this." And he handed it back to Sir Lewis, who received it with ill-concealed satis faction. He was as much pleased, prob ably, at Jack's expression of possible failure in the proposed tricks as at the lecovery of his property. Another watch, however, was pounded up into a jelly, and brought out whole from a cabiuet in an adjoining room and this trick sucessfully accomplished, Jack Newbiggen, who was now complete ly on his metal, passed on to higher flights. He had spent the vacation or the year previous in France as the pupil of a wizard of European fame, and had mas tered many of the strange feats which are usually attributed to clairvoyance. There is something especially uncanny about these tricks, and Jack's reputation rapidly increased with this new exhibi tion of his powers. Thanks to his cross examination of Mrs. Sitwell at dinner, he was in possession of many facts connect ed with the company, although mostly strangers to him and some of his hits were so palpably happy that he raised shouts of surprise, followed by that terri fied hush which not uncommonly suc ceeds the display of seemingly super natural powers. "Oh, but this is too preposterous," Sir Lewis Mallaby was heard to say quite angrily. The continued applause pro foundly disgusted him. "This is the merest charlatanism. It must be put an end to. It is the commonest imposture. These aie things which he has coached up in advance. Let him be tried with some thing which up.,n the face of it he cannot have learned beforehand by artificial means." "Try him, Sir Lewis: try him your- self," cried several voices. "I scarcely like to lend myseif to such folly to encourage so pitiable an exhibi- tion."' But he seemed to be conscious that further protest would tell in Jack's fa vor. "I will admit that you have considera ble power in this strange branch of nec romancy if you will answer a few ques tions of mine." "Proceed," said Jack, gravely, meet ing his eyes firmly, and without flinch ing. "Tell me what is most on my mind at this present moment." "The want of a male heir," Jack re plied, promptly, and thanked Mrs. Sit well in his heart. "Pshaw! You hate learned the comef book from Burke that I had no children," said Sir Lewis, boldly but he was a little taken aback. "Anything els6?" "The memdry of a harsh deed you strive in vain to redeem." "This bbrders upon impertineface, said Sir Lewis, with a hot fluph on hiis cheek, and passion in his eyes. "But us leave abstractions and try tangi realities. Can you tell me what I %u in this pocket?" He touched the left breast of his tail-coat. "A pocket-book." i "Bah! Every one canies'a pocket book in his pocket." "But do you?" asked several of the by stonders,( ail of whom were &rowf deeply interested in thiB jjtrarijfce duel1 Sir Lewis Mallaby confessed that u, did', and produced itan oitiiniry iho roccb leather purse and pocketbook 8 in One. A. i now lelt ?ible lav ring he all ?*i*B^*^^ "Are you prepared to go on?" said the ironet haughtily to Jack. Certainly." 'What does this pocketbook contain?" Evidence." Th contest between them was now to death. Evidence of what?" j, i "O facts that must sooner or later to light., You have in that pocket links in along chain of circum stances which, however carefully con cealed or anxiously dreaded, time in its inexorable course must bring eventually to light. There is no bond, says the Spanish proverb, which is not some day fulfilled no debt that in the long run is not paid." What ridiculous nonsense! I give you my word, this pocketbook contains nothing, absolutely nothing, but a Bank of England note for one hundred pounds. "Stay!" cried Jack Newbiggin, facing him abruptly ana speaking in a voice of thunder. "It is not soyou know it it is only the half!" And as spoke hs took the crumpled paper from hands of the really stupe fied baronet. It was exhibited fof in epectionthe half of a bank of England note for 100. 1 There was much applause at this harm less and successful denouement of what threatened at one stage to lead to alterca tion, perhaps to a quarrel. But Jack Newbiggin was not satisfied. As you have dared me to do my worst," said Jack, "listen to what I say. Not on ly did I know that was only the half of a note, but I know where the other half is to be found." "So much the better for me," said the baronet, with an effort to appear humor ous. "That other half was given toshall I say, Sir Lewis?" Sir Lewis nodded indifferently. "It was given to one Hester Gorrigan, an Irish nurse, six years ago. It was the price of a deed of which you" "Silence! Say no more," cried Sir Lewis, in horror. "I see you know all. I swear 1 have had no peace since I was tempted so sorely, and so weakly fell. But I am prepared to make all the resti tution and reparatiou in my powerun less, unhappily, it be already too late." Even while he was speaking hia face turned ghastly pale, his lips were cov ercd with a fine white foam, he made one or two convulsive attempts to steady himself, then with a wild, terrified look around, he fell heavily to the floor." It was a paieletic seizure. They took him up stairs and tended him but the case was desperate from the first. Only just before the end did he so far recover the power of speech as to be able to make fun confession of what had occured. Sir Lewis had been a younger son the eldest inherited the family title, but died early, leaving his widow to give him a posthumous heir, the title remaining in abeyance until time showed whether the infant was a boy or girl. It proved to be a boy, whereupon Lewis Mallaby, who had the earliest intima tion of the fact, put into execution a ne farious project which he had carefully concocted in advance. A girl was ob tained from a foundling hospital and substituted by lady Mallaby's nurse, who was in Lewis' pay. for the newly born son and heir. This son and heir was handed over to another accomplice, Hester Gorrigan, who was bribed with 100, half down, in the shape of a half note, the other half to be paid when she announced her safe arrival in Texas with the stolen child. Mrs. Gorrigan had an unquenchable thirst, and in her transit between London and Liverpool allowed her precious charge to slip out of her hands, with what consequences we know. It was the watch bonowed from Sir Lewis Mallaby which first aroused Jack's suspicions. It bore the strange cresttwo hammers crossed, with the motto "I Strike"which was maiked upon the linen of the child thatjjDan Blockett picked up at Kirklington sta tion. The initial of the name Mallaby coincided with the monogram H. L. M. Jack drew his conclusions and made a bold shot,which hit the mark, as we have seen. Lewis Mallaby's ,confession soon rein stated the rightful heir, and Dan Block ett, in after years, had no reason to regret the generosity which prompted him to give the little foundling the shelter of his rude home. A BRIDAL VEIL. A pretty, dark-eyed girl began to work it, whose lover was over the sea. She was a French girl, and came of a family of lace-makers. "I will work my own bridal veil, in my leisure time," said she. "So, when Walter comes to marry me, I shall be gay bride." But she never finished the veil Walter came to soon. She married her English loveras poor as herselfand went with him to broad and tree America and the half-finished bridal vei went along, care fully fulded away at bottom of a trunk, and, for the timt oemg, quite for gotten. It may have been forgotten in earnest during twelve years, for aught I know certainly it lay that long unoticed. A lovely little ten-year-old girl was the fairy that broke its long sleep at last, she had dark cyes,_like the peasant of twelve years ago, but Walter's golden hair. "Oh, the charming lace I" she cried, clapping her hands and dancing delight edly, as Elsie shook it out of the folds. "Dear mamma, what is it? and who made it? and why is it but half-done? Can I have it for a bride-dress tor my doll, mamma?" The pretty dark-eyed matron laughed and shook her head, and half-sighed, as she pressed the dark fapric to her, }ips. .Then she told the child the historv of its making. "But lt.shall not ,lie hidden so long from the light wain," she said, tenderly. ,"I will finish it and when the time comes for my little ,Adele to be a bride, she will have a veil te be proud,of." Again the littleo taper iflngers told mer I }*mxlJ tt delicate lace -roa,fairy-hke ferns ,and masses of grace ful flowers mew steadily under them Adelewatqhetf, the progress of the work withkeenesjinterest. 3 "Mamma, teach rm to work, it," she said one day. "My fingers are much finer and tinier than yours." PAfter that she would bring her little work-basket to her mother's side and work at a veil for her doll. At the age of fifteen so expert was she that Elsie did not fear to let her take part in the creation of the famous bridal veil itself, but they worked at it only now and then, as the fancy seized them. Louise Riviere was from France, like Adele's motherthat had been a bond between them from the firstfor Adele loved her mother's country for her moth er's sake, though she herself was proud of being called American and she also loved the young Frenchman. Louis came of noble blood, and was well-to-do. He had some moneynot enough to live upon in idle luxury, bvt plenty to secure him a fair start in busi ness life. Unwilling to enter upon this course in Paris, where his noble relatives would not scruple to oppose him, he had chosen New York as the scene of his fu ture efforts, and embarked in business as a merchant there. The happy weeks and months grew in to years. Adele was now seventeen: it was agreed and promised that when spring-time came, she should be Riviere's bride. "We must finish the bridal veil," cried Elsie, eagerly. "I tell you, Monsieur Louis, no lady of your proud house ever wore lace more exquisite and rich. Ah shall I not be proud when I look at my beautiful child in her marriage robes, and think of the poor little peasant girl of long ago, who toiled at the lace to earn coarse bread so faraway over the rea." Louis turned quickly at these words, a look of displeased surprise in his dark eyes. "What peasant girl, madame?" he ques tioned uneasily. "Myself!" she answered happily, not marking the tone or look. "What was I but a poor little lace-maker when my gen erous young lover married me? The fa ther of Adele." He answered nothing, and Elsie went merrily chattering on, but Adele noted his suddenly downcast air and gloomy eyes, though she was far from suspecting the cause of either. His haughty family pride had received a blow. "A lace-maker," he said to him self. "A peasant girl! If I had but known it!" All that night, and for days and nights afterward, the thought of his bride's humble extraction tortured him the sting to his pride would not be removed. Unconsciously to himself his annoy ance affected his temper he became fret ful, irritable, impatient, sometimes to the very verge of impoliteness, even and, above all, he conceived an absurd but vio lent dislike to the bridal veil. "I detest the sight of it!" he cried one evening, in a moment of self-forget fulness, and when he and Adele were alone. "If, indeed, you love me, never work at it in my presence, Adele and if I dared ask one special favor of you, it would be" He paused suddenly. She was listen ing in gieat surprise. "Well?" she said. It should beV "Wear any other veil in the world but that one to be mairied in!" She folded her work, and let her fair hands fall on it in her lap one could see those little hands were trembling. She was greatly surprised at his man ner and request, and also vaguely hurt, she scarce knew how or why. Indeed, she had wondered often, Ltely, at a sub tle and unpleasant change in Louis. Could it be possible that she was about to discover its cause? "You ask a singular favor," she said, with foreed quietness. "Are you aware that my dear mother worked at this veil?" The hot, impulsive temper answered instantly, without a thought: "It ie for that very reason that I hate it." And tlien she understood him. This daughter of America had been slow to suspect or comprehend the pride of the French aristocrat, but she saw all clearly now and she would not marry the man who thought he stooped to take her. She folded up the veil and gently, but firmly said: "You did not know, when first you sought me for a bride, that mamma was a lace,-wprker in Franqe if you had per haps you would notbave lovedime. Since you have learned this fact you have re gretted our engagementyou. need inot speak I have seen, a change in you I feel that this is so! But there is no harm done," she went onr with simple* dignity "since I have learned the truth before it is too late, and "so"she held out to him a trembling, little hand, which he took mechanically"and so I will grant the favor you covet, my friend. Your bride ,shali not wear my dailing mother's veil" here he kissed the hand, and she drew it quickly awaybut that is because I shall nor be your bride!"' No need to dwell upon what followed. His prayers, his protestations -humble at first, then angryher tears, that had no power in them to sap t'he strength of her resolution. They parted coldly at lastlovers still in heart, for love dies not so easily, but outwardlv seeming scarcely even friends. She stood proudly as he left the room when the sound of the street door clos ing after him, Struck like a knell of hope to her young, passionate heart, she flew to the window and watched him out of sight. "Go! go!" she cried, dashingfromy awa the tears that blinded her. "Go? my eyes, hateful' tears, and, let me" see my love for the last timet My love! my love! And I have lost.him!" She sank dbwn and sobbed'.' Just then the sound-of he* mother's'voice,' singing merrily, an^oftl French song an a room above, came to her ears. Once more she dashed -the tears away: "He despised you, my darling mamma you! No, no,' I will never pardon him!' i Her parents questioned her in vain. She had quarreled With'Louis that was all they could learn. And before a chance for reconciliation came, Elsie was smitten with mortal illness, and died in three days, and Adelo, overwhelmed by the awful calamity, was prostrated with brain lever. At this juncture a summons camelroin Prance, demanding his immediate1 pres ence therei Strahge changes'had taken place Two of the th*ee lives thathaS fltotd between him and the tit1eTand es tates of the Marquis de la Riviere had been suddenly swept away, and the third .^^^B^^^^^jn,^ frail and delicatee child,oflay dyine.os Tne present marquis, himself a feeble old SS.T Poin death, th B5 a the* sent in haste to Louis, as the heir.tno The news bewildered him. Hip heart swelleagith exultatio?e.and Ha tJ?*i fltf"- detfcht, but Ad I6st Adele? "I care not for rank or wealth unless she shares them!" cried his* heart "I will go and implore her pardon." He made the attempt, but in vain He sought her father, and said a few words to him, however, that might have made all well again had she ever heard them but she never did. When her long and wasting sickness was over at last, and she began, slowly and feebly, to take hold on life, she found herself an orphon in very truth Walter had followed Elsie to a better world. Not even then had she drained the cup of sorrow to the dregs her father's affairs had been terribly involved when all was settled she was penniless. Traly nught it be said rAdele A that her sorrows "came not single spiea but in battalions father, mother, lover, home, all gone. What had life left to ofler her but patience ^nd pain? And Luis? He would have written her immediately upon his arrival in Paris,, but that he felt so blissfully sure that her father would make all well. A few weeks later he did write informing her fullv or his strangely altered fortunes, and "im- ploring her to pardon and accept once more as her true lover, the Marquis de la Riviere. And the letter never reached her. The house to which it came was empty and deserted, the lately happy home was broken up, and the little American girl,, for whom a husband, and title and for tune were waiting in Sunny France, waa earning a sorrowful living as a lace mak er! Such are some of the strange reverses of real life more wonderful than any fic tion. So the marquis waited for an answer in vain. Then pride rose up in arms "She scorns me," he thought. "She, a poor peasant's child. I am punished for my folly!" And he resolved to drive her from his heart. But after many months his letters to Adele was returned to him,, crossed and re-crossed with strange ad dresses. It was a messenger of hope to him. She had not slighted, she had not scorned him perhaps she had not ceased to love. Before another day and night had passed the marquis was on his journey to New York! Need I tell of hiswelcome there? When did wealth and title fail to find a warm one? Or of the friends of former years who flocked to claim acquaintance? Has not prosperity always hosts of friends? But none could tell him of Adele, beyond the history of her bitter sorrows. She, being poor, had fallen from their bright world. And after three months' search he had tailed to find her. He had money, influ ence, deepest heart-interest to aid his search, and yet in spite of all it failed. ''Sheis dead!" he thought, with an guish. "I have come too lateit is in the grave that I shall find my darling. If it be so, and if I prove it to be so indeed, I will live and die single for her sake!" But that was his heart's resolve, unsus pected by any many a gay belle and brilliant beauty had spread her nets, to secure the splendid prize of a titled hus band. Foremost among the many was Rosa lind Hale she was the fairest and the wealthiest of them all, and her golden hair was not unlike Adele"s it was this that had attracted him towards her more than the othersthe memory of an olden love. She never suspected that, hei vanity made sure that he was in her toils. She arranged charades, tableaux, plays in which he should sustain a part with her. It never occured to her that he was at once too good-natured and too indiffer ent to refuse. The tableux were suggestive enough one, upon which Miss Hale had quite set her heart, was that of a bridalneed it be said that Louis was the bridegroom, herself the bride? He will surely speak now," sbe thought, as she blushed aud trembled beside him, while the curtain came slowly down. But no he only bowed as he led her from thcjplatform, and thenone of the buttons of his coat caught in her bridal veil It has been said that "trifles make up the sum of human happiness. It seem ed so now. As the marquis stooped to disengage the lace, suddenly he uttered a strange cry. "It was Adele's bridal veil!' "I borrowed it of a lace-maker," Miss Hale said, in reply to his anxious ques tioning. "I had ordered one like it, but her health is poor, and she failed tOJ have it finished in time. So then I made her lend me this. She was quite unwilling, to6," she added, pouting, "just because it was her mother's work. Suth fancies for a poor person!'" A young girl?" "Oh, novery thin and worn, and sad with fine eyqs, but too dull and pale to be called pretty. But an exquisite lace maker. shall be glad to give ou her address if you have any work for her." Yes, he had work for her work that they would'share togetherthe blessed work of binding up an almost broken heart, of restoring love and happiness to both their lives! Miss Hale never received her veilthe marquis claimed it. In its stead he sent her a complete set of laces that made her -ran that regard, at leastthe envy ot American society and Louis married Pale and thin, and somewhat careworn still, was the bride of the marquis on her wedding day but to hiB eyesthe eyes of faithful loveit wag still the sweetest face in the world that smiled'and wept beneath Elsie's bridal veil. "And he kissed the old-lace end blessed it, because through it he had found her again. "I love it now!" he said. "I prize it next to yourself, love. It shall be kept as a treasure always." And so it was. Many a fair and high born bride wore "the bridal veil of Ba vierre" in the years to come. It and its story passed through many generations of-^raud and happy wearers. But among them all none were more truly blest than she who "through much suffering, had attained to joy." The poor lace-maker, whose mother was a peasant girl, but who, for true love's sake, and for lore alone, wss chosen from all other women* to be Madame la Marquise de la Riviere.