, 1896-12-05

a self made exile froln home and friends,
carried in his heart of hearts the picture
Of a lovely, wistful, Sirlish face, with
shiest pansy purple eyes.
Three years afterward james Thorne's
palace home is II blaze of light and
beauty. The massive doors are flung
open; the perfume of the flowers floats
out on the night air.
The soft, brilliant light from the
chandeliers, through curtains of amber
satin and creamy lace, streams forth OIL
the street below.
She has received them all with q
sweet, imperious grace, wholly her own,
and is glancing away, OIL a partners
arm, when she looks up and sees be-
fore her u late arrival-Edgar Reynolds.
The dark debonair face is handsome
as of yore. and it brightens as if with
new life when ne sees her.
"Florence--.Miss Thorne!' He has
sprung forward eagerly, and, regardless
of the presence of others, held out both
hands.
Florence Thorne looks up at him in
calm surprise. She does not smile; she
does not cry ont. No tinge of the rose
flush dies from her face. The pansy pur.
pie eyes do not droop; the lily hands do
not tremble.
So she lays her hand q moment in
his, coldly, courteously.
"Have you come back OF last-at
last?"
eyes, we returned a fortnight ago."
rings out the clear, silvory voice "C:p-
tain Arthurs, will you take me to the
ballroom?"
She bows a trife haughtily to Edgar
Reynolds AID leaves the drawing room
Oh her partners arm.
The night goes by with the ripple of
laughter, the crash of music, the tread
Of dancing feet.
Everywhere admiring eyes follow
Florence Tborne, and her uncle looks
fondly on and smiles to see the world
bow down before his darling. "Such
wit, such repartee, such matchless
g~race!' they say "she is the beauty of
the season."
Zone dance, only one," pleads Edgar
Reynolds, "for the sake of old times"
She laughs, that clear, happy laugh
Of hers, and leaves him.
He stands where she has left him and
looks after her with hot, angry eyes.
He has staid single and let Agatha
Vere's bank account slip through his
hands for the sake of this girl anu
james Thorne's wealth.
Oh, now-now for one hour of the
old dominion.
He sees q servant approach her in the
crowd, ices her bend her naughty head
and follow him.
II must have it out with her now,"
he says, clutching his hands fiercely. II
must awake the old love tonight if ever. "
He follows her through the long, gas
lit room till, parting the velvet cur
tains ut the end, she enters q cool, dim,
shadowy alcove.
He is just behind her, but draws back
quickly in the shade of a tall, flower
crowned pillar as he sees q man turn
from the marble mantel ut the farther
end Of the room, against which he h:
been leaning "a man bearded and
bronzed and travel stained.
"Oh, Philip"
The girl spran9 forward. a streaming
light in her eyes, a vivid color in her
cheeks.
Little Flo!' he says softly.
It was the old pet name for her when
she was a little child. When she grew
up a fair girl graduate, with golden
hair" she was Miss Florence" Now
the old name sprang first to his lips.
Both her slender white hands rest in
his : reluctantly now. The
man in the shadow of the velvet portiere
looks OH with compressed lips. All, he
recognizes him now-his rustic rival Of
three years ago.
Little Flo," he says again, and this
time his eyes are suspiciously moist,
With a woman's quick perception she
sees it and withdraws her hands.
For a moment she is a shy girl again,
for she knows how, in spite of wealthy
faithfully guarded the love awakened
three years ago-the true love that
flourished when the false love died.
"Have you no better welcome, Flor
ence-no gift OF love? Have l hoped
and waited in vain? Oh, my darlingi"
"Silencel This lady is my promised
wife,"
It is Edgar Reynolds, white with
rage, who speaks, but Florence turns to
him with her calmest. sweetest smile.
You are mistaken, Mr.. Reynolds
A pretty girl with whom you hirted
three years ago helped to pass the time,
but she was only a shy, wild rose, and
you couldn't afford to ruin your pros
poets for her, you know"
As she speaks she draws from her
breast and hands him q sheet OF crum-
pied paper.
Then she turns to the lover of her
childhood, girlhood, womanhood, and
lays her har ds in his, and he clasps thu
figure in its trailing satin robes close in
his strong arms till ''little Fld'' cries
out in alarm, ooh, Philip. you have
crushed my iloworsI"
And Edgar Reynolds goes forth from
the room and forth from their lives,
and for onoe true love has its royal re-
ward.-Exchange.
Then He Wa Het.
A northern man travelling through