The Press., 1895-01-24

Iii he'd with admir;> hle taste, heaped with books. pictures and all kinds of pretty things. Isabel herself-I have al- ways called her, by gracious permis- sion, by her Christian name-received us, and presently her brother joined us. There was some codstraint upon the whole party, which was natural under the circumstances, and was glad when we all went outtogether and climbed to the top of the headlahd. Here present. ly found myself-whether by accident or design I know ,net-standing alone with Isabel, the other two slowly going on before us down the hill She looked grave and anxious, her cheek rather pale. knew that her mind was full of her lover and her refusal. l had no right to speak, yet I did speak to her about it. First, told her what Paul had told me, that he loved her and that she would not aoceptshim, for a reason.
 ''Did he tell you the reason?" sine asked, her cheeks flushing suddenly.
 No; only in general terms. There is a cloud upon N0nIo part of your past. "
 "A cloud indeed" she replied.
 (Which would not in any way affect the life of tho man you married.
 But it would,''S she said; "oh, it would! You do not know what it is, or you would say that l am right.
 May, I cannot cthink, Miss Reeve, that you are right, for you make the man who loves you-the best man ill the world-you do not kIow what clever, brave and good hearted man he So 7-o Ioir lo1 might make him happy And so con- tinued, she shaking her head, though the tears came into her eyes, and mur muring, "Oh, refuse him because l would not make him unhappy"
 Then 1 said it all over again. beg ged her to put this consideration out of her mind altogether, aLd if she could 90 make Paul hapaw,
 She shook her head with less fir1nness than before, and I saw that she was shaken
 When we walked back to the house, the boy came with me, and Paul walked beside Isabel. j. -E-'
 II wish ir may come off, he said, blushing as usual. II say-I know l can talk freely with you, because Paul says so. He has told you something about us, hasn't he? Not much, he says, but dare say it is quite enough. Isabel wrote it all down, so that he should not think he had been deceived-all, she says-everything. Good Godr' here he gasped. ''H Paul likes to show it to you, he may. But hope he will not. As for me, am done for. can do nothing. The history is round my neck like millstone. must sit in the back ground all my life and make myself as little conspicuous as can. cannot go into the army or the university. I have not been to a public school. have no l friends, and I can make none. can never marry" Here he stopped for awhile and walked on at great rate, swinging his arms. s :,'.
 "As for Isabel,' he went on, f it real ly cannot matter to her when once she is married. Paul will take her away. No one will trouble their heads to ask who she was. If she can once be got to 1 think that it will not do him mischief, I think she will give in. And, oh! I can not bear to think that she should stay on here, wasted, her life spoiled, living l in vain.
 She had already given ill, though we did not know it. The word was spoken, and she was promised saw it in her blushing face and softened eyes when we reached the house. I Isaw it in Paul s absurdly triumphant air when we walked away.
 ''It is settled, he said, pressing my arm. ''She has accepted me. My dear boy, I am the happiest man in the worldr'
 I He went on to oexplain at great length how very happy he was already, and how very much happier he meant to be in the immediate future. They were to bt married at once-in few weeks-thert was no need to wait, and so on.. Mean time there was small dinner party at the house that evening, and I was in vited by Isabel
 TContinued next weekly
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 WHIcH MAN WINs? Theone with stead. nerves and clear brain. Th4tmeans, il lnine cases out of ten, the man With Q goo, digestion. 4 Ripans Tahule after dime may save to-morroW's business.