Year: 1877




He heanl her siep-perhaps the thrill
At his heart told him Who uas coming.
He rose and turned towards her. Wait.
ing her pleasure. She might recognize
him OF not Just as sbs cho-e.


She passed him with a naughty
glance. lie did not finch. but stood
with folded arms-his tall. manly figure
outhped agains, the purple sky. his face
lit up by the young moon. A faint flush
rose TO her white forehead.


"Is it Duke Rutherford ?"


Miss Delamere! Will you not well
come me home"


She gave him her hand. After all.
old memories held still their sway in
her heart.


Some secret audacity moved him to
say it. He bent over her and whispered
II have the heilotrope yet, Lucy"


Her eyes blazed; she snatched her
hand from him as if his touch stung
her. Remember to whom you are
speaking" she said, sharply. Il have
other business than listening to the silly
talk of love-sick bUyl Goodnight to
you Mr.. Duke Rutherford"


1.-THE time may come, he muttered,
eyes. it may happen that she will be
glad to unsay those words! 1 can
wait"


Six years passed again. Duke Ruth
erford was making a name in the land.
On his graduation he had studied law,
and been admitted to the bar in due
time; and after two years was in q sue
cessful practice, one of the most rising
men in the profession.


Wealth came to him slowly, but fame
was not chary. He had turned his at
tention and leisure moments to htera-
ture, and already ranked high as a poet.
His father was dead. There was no tie,
save memory, to bind him to the old
place at Romney. So he travelled when
he could do 30 with benefit.


He frequently met Lucy Delamere in
the gay world. Their old familiar foot
ing of early days had given place to a
colder and more distant acquaintance
ship. He could not forgetth hint he
had whispered to her respecting the
heilotrope that hot July night. Her
pride had taken alarm, yet to him she
was and ever would be the one woman
the world contained. His heart never
for one moment swerved from its pas
sionate allegiance. And she2 What
meant that frequent absence of mind,
that dreamy look in the beautiful eyes,
that constant look of sadness on the
exquisite face? What meant that sud
den flush, that lighting up of the fea-
lures at the first moment that his name
was announced on entering a room ?
Were love and pride having n battle
1t would seem so, for on his -yproach-
ing her, the light and the flush would
die away, and cold, proud word would
be his greeting.


Suddenly it was announced that Mrs.
and Miss Delamere were going to Amer
lea. An illness had attacked the elder
lady, and sea voyage was recommend
ed by her physicians as her only chance
of recovery. They had advised Aus
tralia, but to this she would not listen
so long a voyage seemed to her like bid
ding farewell to earth. She resolved
to try the efficacy of a trip to New
York.


The news reached Mr.. Rutherford
amongst others, and it startled him.
Could he make use of this opportunity ?
For some time past a certain matter of
business had demanded his attention in
America, but he had been unwilling to
devote the time to the journey. 1t was
now the commencement of the long va
cation, and so far circumstances were
in his favor. As he thought of a long
and close proximity to Lucy Delamere
this voyage would give him, and what
it might bring about, his heart leaped
with hope and his face flushed as the
blood coursed more rapidly through his
veins; for the Duke of Rutheford of by
gone days and the Duke of Rutherford
Of the present, to whom the highest
honors of his profession were possible
of attainment, were two different men.


So it came to pass that one day he
found himself on board a steamer bound
for New York, and Mrs. and Miss Della
mere were among the passengers.


The second day Of the voyage they
were all on deck at sunset, promenad-
ing, laughing, chatting, enjoying the
fresh breezes. More than ever, Mr..
Rutherford gazed from q dis ance at
Lucy Delamere; he confessed that her
youth had not made false prophecies of
the glory Of her womanhood. Her
wealth Of dark hair rippled away from
her broad white forehead; her eyes
we're deep and fathomless as some wood
land spring, into which the sunshine
never looks; her lips red, ripe, perfect;
her whole air and bearing were full OF
naughty graee.


She was leaning on the arm Of q tall,
proud looking man; but. though she
smiled at his soft nothings, she vas gar
ing out, over and. beyond him and his
range of thought. 10 the aeA stretching
20 darkly blus and b0undleas b meet
the twilight glory.


Duke Iufherfonl aieppod before her