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1 7 "fHETKntirnfe" 1 A ttto of schools^ huddled together, Beguiling an hourrtdulLstormy weather anted note withdrawn from its eater, A chorus of Toicee: *0fie!ftlover!" A gem-studded locket, In which was set The exquisite face of a dark-eyed brunette 'TIShidden sway with a sigh ofregret Ah! the pastthat's recalled by that little vh nettel t& Aflerce battle raging men fight handtohand Who both were brought up in the very same land, Bee! the standard's cutdown 'midthecannon's hoarse roar, And he who once held it will never speak more. A cold lifeless fern on a hospital bed 'Tift only the body,.the spirit has fled Hung round his neck, with his life blood still wet, A slender gold chain and a little vignette.., i :?MISS MAHONEY'S LACE.*' Hi: Theyas were having a good time at the farm pleasant apart of gay girl graduates as could well be put together, whenof Miss Mahoneyr arrived upo thse scene action and he appearancen wa certainly like a wet blanket on all pleas ure. The farm was on a mountain-side, high up in the air all below it a great am pnitheater of lesser hills mellowed in dis tance and vapor till they looked like the waves of.a purple sea, with now and then mighty rainbows spanning them and all 4 above it the lotty tops of hills, whose woods here feathered oft upon the morn ing sky, and whose crags there jutted sharply on the stars at night The air was full of the song of birds, the rustle of leaves, the hum of bees and the rushing of water-falls, and it seemed to the hap py young things that they were sdme where above the worldin an ideal re gion from which no voice eould summon them. But, for all that, a sharp voice called when Miss Mohoney was heard at the door, and the eruelcommon world burst in behind her. She came in the noon stage, and she brought such tons of luggage! That had to come on another. What did she mean to do with it at the farm, where linen lawn was full dress? And she had a col lie dog, and a huge cage with a magpie in it, and the magpie chattered like the confusion of tongues. Miss Mahoney stopped at the door, opened the cage and let the magpie go. "He comes back at call," she said to Mrs. Pierson, our land lady, who hardly looked with, kindness on the bird of evU. "He likes to have \his liberty and make his nest, and so I letshiconfiningt.all have i the summercity life is An Laddie keeps an eye on him." 4tat we all embraced Lad die at once, as he put up his pretty nose and tender brown eyes to our faces, and the collie became the best friend of all the young girls that day, particularly those of the prettier ones, for he had quite ft taste in beauty he seemedto know that there was not a gallant about the place, and he might be escort to the whole par ty if he would, and he presently attached himself so pertinaciously to Adele Mont rose that Jane Hunt said that she should have to show.him Philip's picture next, and tell Laddie that Philip was coming in a month. Miss Mahoney came down to tea in re feen al array. No such garments had ever seen at the farm as her purple striped velvet gauzes, with their satin understuff. As for her string of pearls, perhaps they were only Roman, but if they were real, they were worth more than the farm and then the lacs shawl which she knotted up round her throat as they sat on the piazza, looking at the sunset more underneath than above them, "as if it had been Shetland wool," said (Jane "when it was priceless Brussels net." V. w/:- |_, "But she has oceans of lace," said Miss ''Meyer. I opened her door by mistake I as she was unpacking, and there it was 1 some in boxes and trays, and some over chairs. What with laces and jewels, the room looked like theare r: milky way." "Shel think we a set of barbari- ans," said Adele, with her quick blush, "with hardly so much as a tucker." "And we shall think her a vulgar par venue, bringing suoh tilings to such a place," said Jane. "She's not a mouveau nchc, at any rate," answered Miss Meyer. "For she lent rich at all. Mrs. Pierson knows about her. She inherited all her fine /tilings from some relation or other, and 'has only enough money to live on and when she wants to do something ex travagant, like coming to the mountains, she sells a pearl orbit of lace." Miss Mahoney, ot course, became' an object of study to the girls, and was al ways accompanied in her progress by tome awe and mere ridiculethe former the possessor of finery that somehow wait to their hearts every time they saw it jbr heard of it, the latter as a woman forty, tall and angular and ugly and norant, aping the appearance and man ners of young girls. "I wonderhow she came by Laddie?" said Adele, one day. "She gave a jewel for him," said Miss Meyer, laughing, "so as to have some thing to protect her other jewels. I'm sure it's no wonder howshe came by Jack. That magpie will drive us all out of the house yet.*' -j!^, "See him now, said Jane Hunt, "on the limb of that hollow oak. Doesnt he look like a limb himself!'* "There is certainly somethingdemon iac about Jack," said Adele. "He came tapping at my window hut night, and en I saw those eyes of his they made me shiver so*" "Be was after those cakes in your closet." "Do you suppose he was?" she asked!, ai she was going off with Laddie. They didn't any ot them suppose so, !br all the animals aboutthe place seemed have fondness for Adele, cows and ones, cats and doves even the wood lirds have away of flying low round the harming head as she called them. Some id it was her beauty, for she as the loveliest little brown-haired blue yed, white-browed, damask-cheeked iece of flesh and blood one could imag and the rest fancied it was some earaess to nature in her, or some secret ttractwn like that of the Indian snake armers. *Tha is the same way she tamed Jane's rdther Phil," said Lucia. "Every one nbws that Phil was the haughtiest and st high-strung mam in existence, rather despised women. And now just adores the ground she walks on. "Asforme,"aidMiaMever,"X should he afraid that, that sort of love, was' a glamour, and would break upsome day." "There's no danger of Phil's love for 4^ele breaking up," said Jane. ""And now she does worship him! She never mentions bis name, but she writes to.him every day-r-and she even saves the scraps of his writing onnewspaper envelopes-she does indeed, girls1" "Dear me! I wouldn't want to care so much for any one," said Miss Meyer. "I don'tknow any one thats more likely to," cried Lucia. "When* you do fall in love, Maria Meyer .fDontyou concern yourself, young lady, about me," Bald Miss Meyer, sharp ly, walking off to give Laddie a biscuit, which was at once stolen by Jack, Lad die being engrossed in a fine game of romp with Adele. /They say she used to care for Phil herself," whispered Lu cia to her neighbor and then they fell to comparing their tatting and crocheting and getting out patterns,, and Miss Ma honey joined them. Miss Mahoney's morning toilets were as extraordinarily severe as her afternoon ones were extra ordinarily superb. "Oh, Miss Mahoney!" cried one of the girls one morning, "if we had your laces we shouldn't have. ,to- do "We hear you have such lovely lace,' said Maria Meyer, with that grand air of hers on. "I have some very pretty pieces," said Miss Mahoney. "Our family is an old Irish family, and I am the last of it, and so in one direction and another I have fallen heir to a good deal." A* "And I suppose you know all about lace?' said Lucia. "I know all about my lace. Some of it is quite nice. As pretty pieces," re peated Miss Mahoney, "of their size as one could see in America." "What if you had a grand opening, at some time, and let us see them all?" ask ed Lucia. "Why with the greatest pleasure, any timenow, if you sayso." And of course the girls all said so, and sprung to their feet at once. "Oh, is shegoing toshow usher laces?" cried Adele, dancing up with Laddie barking and jumping round Jack, who had perched on her shoulder. "How lovely of you, Miss Mahoney|" and she followed with the rest. "This," said Miss Mahoney, when she had opened her boxes, "is Venice point." V" "It doesn't look any different from tat- ting," said Maria Meyer. "Only," said MissMahoney, "as differ ent as mist is from water.' This is a bit of Spanish lace madejn a convent. Here is a scrap of cardinal's lace nobody but the cardinals at Rome have it. I don't know how my grandmother came into possession of this scrapthere used to be an archbishop in our family somewhere, but that's not a cardinal. These are all old French lacesMrs. Palissey never saw their equal. But they are a great deal of care. I often think that piece of Valenciennes costs me as much trou ble as a child. These are Irish laces they are like hoar-frosts and blowing snow-drifts, somebody once told me. They don't make them now. See this piece of English pointold Devonshire point" "Oh, how lovely!" cried Adele, while the others were exclaiming over this and that. "Talk of snow-rifts!,, and she,took the Devonshire point in her hands ft was two or three yards of finger-deep edging in a couple of pieces caught together by a thread, of the most exquisitely delicate beauty both of texture and designideal ized foam wreaths or the fancies of some frosted pane spread on a spider's web. "How perfectly lovely!" exclaimed Adele again, and she wound it round her blushing face before the glass. "What a finish for a bridal toilette?"not and then she held it up in her hands in thesunlight, and the magpie onher shoul der, cooking his bead on one side and the other, looked more demoniac than ever through the film of an end of it that lay overhis shining black feathers. "You are exactly like one ot those girls holding little bannerols that come dancing out of the facades of temples in those Pompeiian decorations of Phil's!" cried Jane. "What a pity that you're not going to marry a rich man, Del, who could afford you Devonshire point and diamonds,"she added the least atom maliciously, "in- stead of a poor young architect!" "If Adele wound a duster round her she would still look decorated," said Lucia. "Most folks would," said Adele, taking off the lace,soberly, and laying it down. "But I must confess that I think lace is the meet perfect thing made by hands it always seems to me the nearest ap proach of man to works of nature, and I would about as lief maxe lace as paint pictures." Miss Meyer began wrapping herself in a black lace mantle soprecisely designed that the very dewdrops seemed to glis ten On the poppy petals there and pres ently all the other girls were masquerad ing in the precious things, while Miss Mahoney sat by complacently enjoying her magnificence. "Now, my dears," said Miss Mahoney, as one by one they resigned theirborrow ed plumes'. "You see I have nice things if I don't wear them." And satisfied with the exhibition, during the next week she put on nothing costlier than a ninejpenny print. -i, "Well," said Adele, "it's just a pleas ure to have them to look at" Poor little Adele was the penniless or phan of penniless parents, and she taught drawing in a large scixool in Boston, where Philip had happened to see her and. love hex at first sight. PhU wascom ing before long now, for his month's va cation, and she was only living by count ing the hours. A little restless till then, the light talk of the girls seemed to her to be meaningless chatter, in which she had small interest and she used to wan der off by herself, sketching on her little pocket beards, or lying in the fern or in the shadows of the cliffs, with an unread book in her hand, by the hour together. Occupied with her own fancies, and with a drawing of the outlines of old World's End, it was not strange that she did not particularly notice the demeanor of the girls, or if she did observe them with their heads together, that she should have thought it no more than the cus tomary mischief,and merrymaking. She was standing alone one morning, just as the son was drying the grass and moss on the top of Breezy Blufi, hehind the d^wjwdure of the nflMdes hawks were soaring and sweeping over her head in the marvelousblue of thestainless sky, and under her feet the tope of the woods wen bowing and bending. .It was not .like daily hie, she was saying to henebf. "This wonderful hill country! It is just as if one died, andwere really apprOsjch irig heaven." And in her w^ito^gbwn, with her bright brown hair floating ott about her face in then wind that fumed so pure a color there, and withher lumi nous eyes borrowing the vexycolor of1 Jen her the great purple mountain, below her and fluttering back and following hw the skies, she looked ahnest as if she were. As she stood there, i*pt reverie" and happinessthe world was sx beautiful and Phil was coming any day how, and she had hardly anyother thoughtshe did not notice Miss Mahony, under a big umbrella toiling up to meet her, tilt that individual was close up toher. "I have followed you here, Miss Mont- rose," said she,' suddenly, in her moat rasping tones, "to save you any mortifi cation before the other boarders, and to ask what you have done with my Devonshire point.''' jy.'/v j**a "With what?" &>t ^JC a^'With my Devonshire point." "What have I done with your Devon shire point? Why, Miss Mahoney, what do you mean?" she exclaimed, descend ing from her day-dreams. "I mean what I say. My Devonshire point has disappeared. I have searched everywhere for it, so have two or three othersevery box, every bag, every bas ket, every drawer. I have shaken every garment, have left no nook orcorner neg lected, and it isnot to be found. You were the last person seen with it, the only one who appreciated it. What haveyoudone withitfi' "You mustyou must be.jdreaming, Miss Mahoney," said Adele. /'What in the world should I do withybur lace?" "Finish a bridal toilette with it, per- haps," said Miss Mahoney. "Do you meanis it possible you can mean' ,"Miss Montrose, I mean that somebody has taken my lace,and that to be., plain, suspicion points to you, and that I am giving you a chance to restore it to me before 1 call in anofficer. For doubtless, since you could do such a thing, you know the value of that lace." "Am I talking to a crazy woman?" cried Adele. "No," said Miss Mahoney, *'out I am talking to a thief." ti rL^ i\ ?f\ "You will speak to the officers of the law, then," said Miss Mahoney, usingher umbrella like a tipstaff. "The people at the house have but guessed that I sus pected you. Now I shall speak at once to Mrs. Pierson and the other boarders, and tellthem my certainty. I never even dreamed that in coming to a country farm-house I was coming into a den of thieves." And she was as good as her word.' ^0 Adele herself hurried down the moun tain, slipping, scrambling, rolling. But,, fast as she went in her indignationr Jttisfi Mahoney's lohg legs had gone faster and as she drew near the house, she saw that the usual gay morning parties on the pi azzas were absent, and she presently un derstood, by the sound of the loud for getful tones that came through the open window, that the loss of the Devonshire lace was under discussion. "Mr. Philip Hunt will learn*" Miss Meyer was saying, "that before one mar ries a beauty it is best to see whether or she is a kleptomaniac." "Kleptofidrilesticks!" cried Miss Ma honey. "A thief's a thief. Rich or poof. She has my lace or she hasn't If she has, she's a thief, and four strong walls will hold her before nightfall, and save the lace of her people." It seemed to Adele thaf tainly going mad herself. She walked in among them an6\stood looking about her, white as ashes, and with biasing eyes. Is there any one here capable of believing such a frightful thing as this woman's words?" she exclaimed. "Miss Montrose!" cried Mrs. Pierson "Miss Montrose, don't you be a mite troubled. There's nobody believes her^ We'd trust her allot us with untold gold." "I dont know," said Maria Meyer then, slowly and very white herself. "But I feel it my duty to say that passing Miss Montrose's door the other mornings I saw what looked verymuch like along strip ol lace fluttering at her window!" "Maria Meyer!" I would tar sooner believe you told a falsehood" "Thank you," said Miss Myer, with a scarlet face. "But your belief will not end the matter." And just then every one's glance followed in the direction of her own, andthey saw the tall figure of a dark young man in Hie doorway. "What is all this?" fried a cheery voice. And at that Adele turned too. "Oh, Philip! Philip!" she shrieked, holding out her arms. "Save me save me save me from this dreadful womanP* In another mo ment thei dark young man's armswere about Adele, and he was possessing him self of the state of the case.' "And so, be' cause Miss Montrose admired your lace she was cer- dare to make such an accusation1' exclaimed turning on Miss Mahoney and bis face almost gray with wrath, "I make no unsupported accusation," said Miss Mahoney. "MissMever has seen the lace in Miss Montrose's ream "Oh,you dont believe it, Philip!" cried -Adcle4n an agonized tone. "Believe it! N6t if all the" -24 Just at that time so furious a barking rose without from Laddie, that Mrs. Pier son, who at any other time would not have minded it. now with all her nerves fluttering, rantosee whatwas the matter and in another moment her cry rang out so wild and loud that, by natural in stinct, half the people in the room had followed herto see Laddie, who had treed the cat in the branches of. the old dead oak under Adele's window, himself powerless in the grasp of Jack, who had descended from his frequent perch in those branches, and planting himself Irmly on Laddie's shoulders, had pro ceededtotear out his hair by beakfuls. At the approach ot Laddie's reinforce ments, though, in the shape of Mrs. Pier son, Jack extricated his claws, screaming |%ht with their eyes, they all saw wha Mrs. Pierson hadseen--the end oi some-' thing deUcately white and fibrous peep ingfrom* and lichens in the crotch of the hollow tree. Philip, who had not followed, but had remained, buthushingAdele's sobs,heard the voices that called him and in less time than it takes to tell, he was in the crotch of that tree. "Whose magpie is this?" he cried, as well as he could be heard for Jack's scolding, sitting astride the branch, and begining to pull out a long string, firmly quilted and felted in the hollow with hair and matted moss. "Here is his nest, which he has hidden away and here" (he knew very well what it was)*is this string of any conse quence?" **t* "It is the "laceP it is the lace!" cried Lucia. "The lace 1".echoed Jane. "And that is Adele's room just overJhe hollow. He got out with it from Miss Mahoney's room, and the wind fluttered this end in to Adele's window, while he was stowing it away and that is what Maria Mever saw, if. she saw anything." & "Oh, my lace! my lace! It is ruined! it is almost ruined!" cried Miss Mahoney and then she remembered Adele. "I am sorry .Miss Montrose!" she said"so sor ry! Indeed I am! How can you overlook it?" ^i fl nevercan," sobbed Adele trembling still every fiber. "f'M f "Youmay j-ist packybUT irunss/Miss Mahoney, for the af+erneon stage," said Mrs Pierson. "I can't have" "And here's a comb," interrupted Phil ip, still bringing out one thing. after an other, 'yours, by its air and bringing up!, Mrs. Pierson. And a thimble, and a bow f ribbon, and a curl of yellow hair, and a stuffed humMing-bird, andwhat is this, Adele?" and he held up a gold chain and onyx locket it ("She?" s, For a moment Adele was dumb. Then the full meaning of the accusation smote her, and her angerflashedup likea flame. "How did it happen," she broke forth, "that so dreadfulso contemptible a woman ever came under the same roof with me? Leave meleave me this in stant! I refuse ever to even speak to you again." ,j 4 "Oh, it is mine!" exclaimed 'Adele. "Jt is the one you gave me on my birthday. I couldn't imagine what had become of it." "And you didn't make any outcry.", ^*Oh, I thoughtI thoughtI mean,' I thought she never came honestly by so many things, and I was sure she had taken ittoadd to the ethers, and it didn't seem worth while to make any fuss. So after that I just locked my drawers." ,.,t, cried Miss Mahoney, now recov ering her lost breath. "She? Me?a Ma honey? Is it I, you little Oh, yes!" replied Adele, "And I am so ashamed? And you never can forgive me." 'tf never can/' said Miss Mahoney. But directly afterward she broke into hearty laugh. uMy 8 0 dear Mis Adele,it she. "I can, and I do and youmust, and Joudeserves shall. As for that bad Jack, to have his neck wrung wrung and I'd do itindeed, then, I wouldif I didn'tneed, him to keep Lad die in subjection. Now I beg your par don heartily and everybody's, and know you're going to grantit. The poor Dev onshire point! that will-take me weeks to restore, and I suppose it would have un comfortable associations, too. But I've lots of old Irish lace just as delicate as that, and it will look just as well as the finish to the bridal toilette. And you mush*tfeel hard. You see, we're quits you thought as much of me. I'm awell- m^anj|^:Q|djtivffig and perhaps Mrs Pier will let me'^tay after alL"~-HarperVB& V? LOVE AND JEALOUSY. Grace,Thbrnley had been married a year when the civil war begun, and lived in a pleasant cottage with her husband, who was a fine-looking, tawny-whiskered young fellow of twenty-five, as fond as a man could be of his wife, and as well liked by everybody as he was whole souled and loveable. Grace wiis nineteen, a pretty, blue-eyed yellow-haired little creature, whose only fault was a growing'tendencytobe inor dinately jealous of her husband, if he so much as glanced at a lady who,totheStaggeredtoa charms of youth, added the captivating spell,of beauty. She loved Will Thornley dearly, but at the same time, Will's smiles must all be for her and nobody else, and he most, think herjust peifection. in. everything, whether she was so or not, and never, no never must he by any pessible chance hint that any woman living was ever half kwely good or wise as her own exact ing, impulsive little self. Will) being a young husband, andvery much in love with his wife, was quite willingtoadmit, and for a time to sin cerely believe that Grace really was an angel, and they were as happy as two turtle doves, or a pair of newly-mated swans, until Rose Woodward came topay them a visit. Before Grace'smarriage. Rosebad befen her most intimate friend, and she natur ally looked forward to her coming with no little pleasure, quite forgetful that her old schoolmate had been thought very attractive when they were girls together at Madame Delacourt's semin ary. s$ A verr great oversight on the part of Grace for Miss Woodward had large, laughing eyes,glossy dark hair and wine red lips, which Will, of course, could not help seeing, and, having seen, could not help admiring. It is unreasonablefor one to insist that a man must be both olind anddumb sim ply because he is married. iJ And then, too, Rosewas so tall and ele gant, while Grace was such a little child ish, baby-taeed thing.v It was not Will who made this discon tented comparison. It was Grace herself. 8he was sure Will thought her silly and insignificant, for she had heard him say he thought Miss Woodward a remarkably handsome woman. To be sure, she had asked him the question point blank one day, when they were walking in thegarden, and he could not have answered otherwise and spoken truthfully. And Rosewas soclever and sensible,be sides being handsome. Grace felt keen ly her own inferiority, and wished from the bottonvof herfoolish youngheart that she was not such a blue-eyed,amberhaued little stupid. It was a very undignified thing to do, but, almost before she knew 1t.Grace found herself watching mistrust fully both friend and husband, and sus pecting deceit where there was none. She was half ashamed of herself wholly unhappy tor so doing, but jealously is ev era self-mortifying and misery-breeding tyrant,which, once having gotten afoot hold inone's thoughb^hangs on like grim deaths and is apt Itt^e^jrttkof Jhe*f tenderest and truest love^ _s It wasnot long beforeRoseguessed what was passing in MrsThornley's mind.and shaped hei conduct accordingly. It was a trifle embarrassing, certainly, but she was-a woman of admirable tact,and man agedtoadopt a safe middle course, pn vately^TOwing however, to make her vis it as Short as possible, and take good-care nottorepeat'it until suchtime, as Mrs Will Thornley had*learnedtotemperher wifely affection with some small share of common sense.,''J N But the prudent middle course had its drawback, for Will* fancied his .wife}} guest treated him with marked coldness, and as was very natural, wanted to krio* the meaning of it. 1 He did not understand"it at allj'and chancing to meet Rose alone one morn ing in the drawing-room, he said: "I fear have in someway offended you,Mis8 Woodward you areso bent up on keeping me at a distance." "Not at all," she smiled. "Piay don't think me so ungracious.- It would- ill oecome metotreat the husband of my friend and hostess with indifference and it my manner so impressedv ybu, it was unintentionally done, on my part, I as sure you." "A man married isnot a man banished 1 orevermore from the good graces of all womankind,is he?" .laughed Will. "If so, I, take it as being,vejy hardlines fall en in the hardest sort ,pf places." "And would treasonably jvish yourself a bachelor again," rejoined Rose. "Yes and no," he replied, still laugh ing, with something of a serious look in hisdark gray eyes., 8&\?wp., Neither saw Grace standing pale and still in the doorway. She had only heard Rose say, in her lowest and most musical tones, "wish yourself a bachelor again!" and his evasive reply, "yes and no!" but it was enough. Grace was quite satisfied now that she was an unloved wile. Will should be free. Rose was better suited to him. It were folly tor hertosuppose that he ever really loved her. Men were so fickle andi false-hearted! She had seen how it* would be from the first, and all that was! left to hertodo wastodie as'soon as she could, and find rest and forgetfulucss in the grave. Having come to this wise conclusion, Grace went up to her room, locked her self in, and cried comfortably for a whole hour. Will came whistling upstairs, and was surprised to find the door locked. Still mere was he surprised when Grace, in a smothered voice, denied him admittance, saying she had a headache and did not wishtobe disturbed. Puzzled, and somewhat angry withal, as he had reasontobe, Will went away to his office, feeling as if the angel was fast disappearing, and his wife, after all, was but a pretty, perverse, provoking child, whom time and experience alone could ever teach to be a woman. An hour after her husband's departure, Grace, in a plain gray traveling dress, and With a thicK veil tied closely over her tear stained face, stealthily left the house and before Rose, who, from her window, saw her hurrying along the rbadtotheshe's railway station, could clearly divine her purpose she was gone. This was a nice predicament for one to rbe placed in. truly! Miss Woodward's indignation for the moment, got the bet ter of her pity and she could have shak en Grace well for her senseless and wil ful absurdity. There was but one thing for her1todo, and that wastopack her trunks with all possible dispatch and leave-on the next 'train, which she did to the infinite amazement of Biddy, who did not know Jwhat in the world to make of her sudden departure, not dreaming that her mis tress had also taken flight, and was alA ready many miles from home. When Will came hometodinner at six o'clock, and learned the true state of things, he grew as pale as death, and' chair as quickly as if a shothad struck him in the heart i Grace had left a note on the bureau in her room, in which she stated, in a ,kind of hysterical Enoch Arden-like manner, that she was going home to her mother, and he might be assured thit neither he nor Rose would ever be troubled by see ing or even hearing'from her'again: i It was her earnest wish to'die, and over her early grave, perhaps, somegentle thought 01 her might Btir his cold, forgetful heart into a passing throb of tenderness. i With the note crumpled convulsively in his hand, Will Thornley seized his hat and rushed from the house. It mattered not where he went, or what he did now, and ere the next day's sun had set, he made one of the many thousands of sol diers marching bravely to the front, to fall, maybe in tiie battle, with face turn ed unflinchingly toward the foe, or die miserabtj in some prison, like a .caged beast,,his heart broken, and death a wel come release from pain, and grief,, and hopeless wretchedness. The setting sunwas rapidly sinking to his.crimspn-curtained couch in the west,' when Grace walked- up the grassy path to the little white gate, where she and Will had often stood in the old, happy days of their courting, and watched the iading light steal duskily and slowly among.thf softly-whispering leaves of the maples. *^4 ever ttWell, i "A letter for you, Mrs. Thornley," Said Mr. Parkhurst, a near neighbor. "I hap penedtobe passing thisway,1tnd thought you might liketohave it." "Oh, yes, thank you!" she' replied, in a trembhng voice!"* WjL rbiive melton mustforgive meyou must come back to me or let me gotoyou!" But alas uer repentance cametoolate! Wm was hundreds ot miles away, and between him and Grace's peaceful home cannon were thundering their dread alarm, and' war's heroic victims were falling by the tens oFthouaands.. t t, 7 They found her lying unconscious and & apparently lifeless under the maples,W with her still white face all wet with the fi night dews, and the little cold hands 4yf*to ^^?l^ei3^*WM* 8hort,^#|^ last letter. v, vaj^f. Private Thornley sbeuwon for himself A me reputation of being the most deeper-^t ately daring man in the army. If any-i thing particularly dangerous was to be -Jf* attempted, Thornley was always sure'to bffei^his services. madam," and this time Colonel Thornley's tones were not quite so sharp. 'What is your business with me?" The woman took a step forward,'' and in a second down at his feet fell that slight, shivering forma sob, an implor ing out-reaching of two thin, trembling little hands, and then from the pale lips came the wild, agonized cry: "Oh, Will, Will! pity meforgive me, and let me die here at your feet! It is ail, all I ask!" "Grace! my wife, my darling! my poor ead and lonely child, is it indeed you?" He caught hertohis heart, and covered her cold, death white face with kisses, if "Foigive you, Grace? Alas, it is I whoff should erave your forgiveness! Look upjf my own dear one. Do not tremble soi*/ You are safe with me, and the past shall^fC "be both forgotten and forgiven. I was^' \S "Mine "You are. very kind*" *-'****1 Mr, Parkhurst gave'her the letter, and went on. Grace recognized the handwriting in a moment, and with a glad "Oh, it's from Will and he has forgiven me!" she tore open the envelope and hastily ran her eyes over its contents. The smile faded tin glad look left her eyes, and with a low piteous cry, she tell on her knees aye to the very earth, and sobbed out the bitter, remorseful anguish of her stricken soul: "GoneWill gone! Oh, no, not "it cannot be! And yet this cruel, cruel letteronly torn little lines!" "You have chosen your way and I have chosen mine. All I desire in this world is a speedy and brave death, and I go to meet it as joyously as ever a bride groom went to meet his bride." 7V That was all. No name, n* date, but she knew only too well its meaning. She pressed it to her lips, her heart. She cov ered it with tears, all the while uttering r-Ssf f He never seemed to sleep, and was for- Wm rJ.f1 putting himself in the most denser- 0 i-B ous places but do what he would, wid $3':i teniptfateashe might,nothing harmed m%m Three yesrs*ot bloodshed, turmoil, anx- 9SW*1 iety and alternate hope and fear passed ^JWt*'fe'* awayyears that had been to Grace one Atff long agony of sorrowful regrets and slow ?'l wearisome waiting for she did wait, and -i^M Heaven only knows how patiently and & &* prayerfullywaited for some sign from Willwaitedtoknow that he still cared tor her, or at least remembered that she had once been his wife. She knew that Colonel Thornley was somewhere in Tennessee, but for the rest, she knew no more than the merest stran ger who .read his name and an account of his brilliant deeds in the daily papers. The tabled Lethe is a stream never found thisside of the grave, search long and far as one may, and those three stir ring years^active as was his life and haz ardous his march to fame, had bv no means brought forgetfulness to "Will Thornley's troubled heart. Grace was so young and impulsive! He should have been more patient! more forebearing, more forgiving. He felt re morseful and self-condemmed but how make the'matter up now? Some thoughts as these were passing gloomily through his mind, one evening, as he sat alone in his tent, pondering over the subject. What a sad, sad nun the madness of an hour had made of his life! True he had no small share of fame, and it was not altogether egotism, per haps, to say it-was fairly .earned but happiness he had lost, and wife and home, though the eld love still remain ed, and to-night, somehow, seemed very near. "A ladytosee you, colonel," said the tall Irish orderly, entering the tent, and' saluting. "I can't see anybody toTnight, sergeant. Some begging refugee, I suppose, Refer her to Major Clinton," testily replied the colonel. XK "Btit she's not a refugee^ or anything of that sort, and says she must see you. She's kinder weakly looking, and as pale as a ghost, wid the travelin' and troubleJ had: and begging your pardon, col onel, I'd rather go to. the guard-house 'for a week than take your message to 2 her stoutly urged the honest orderly. An impatient frown darkened the col onel's brow, for he had grown stem and irritable during the past threeyears, and was no more the Will Thornley he had *t formerly been than the merry-hearted school-boy is like a grim, iron-handed old field-marshal. i "Show the lady in, then, and be quick about it," he said shortly. The orderly promptly obejed. and soon reappeared, conducting a lady, who trembled visibly, and seemed half afraid to enter, though shehad but a moment before begged the orderly to procure the interview for her. (The sergeant instantly, retired and with a sharp interrogative, "Well, mad-'il am?? Colonel Thornley turned to know thepleasure of his strange visitor.* i The light from the single tallow can cU&hurninff on the table, was*so dim as to%arely admit of readily distinguishing tile feature of one in the 'corner where tiie small, shrinking figure stood, as white and nerveless as a statute. $ & ifU t- 5$ K* U-.T i-*. *J :'W *'f. ,A,\ a hasty acthasty on your part and on$ i }fl^\$ffi mine but we are wiser now, and shall ff *V V# know better in the future how to guard- 'if */^fe-? against anger and jealousythe two be-:^. ^n*, .$ setting sins of poor, weak human a*M*'X$k&T$ was.the greater fault," she%.^.!M^ sobbed, "and the love that is without fc&VaggSI jealousy, let them say what they will, is the only true, believing, lasting love. I *fc? know it now but,.oh, Will, the learningy of the lesson was bitter, bitter, indeed i^ And I must see youand must tell you /Not that you have suffered, for I can seethat plainly enoughmuchtooplain ly. And Miss Woodward is" Married!" Grace turned away her face that he might not see the sudden blush that crimsoned it like a rose. "I I went to see her. I did, really, and she forgave me. Said I was a little goose, andandadvised metogo andsee you whether you liked it or not So I came, and now I am here you don't mind, do you?. And we will begin all over again, and be as happy,as we were at first." "Yes: ashappy as we were atfirst,and as I ever hopetobe hereafter.'' "And you don't caretobe- a bacollQC again, even if I am silly?" T* Yea, and no," he said, smiling. J rf She Laid her head contentedly on his breast, and smiledtoo,though a little sadly, for she had learned through bitter experience, that' fV\ "Into each life some ram must*faB,'r. Some days must be dark and difajry^- :IW & fi' ff i U- 4m