Year: 1874


for a young girl to carry Poor foolish
little thing p He added the last words
half pityingly, half scornfully, as he
went up to address her, not caring to
call remark upon himself by seeming
to avoid her.


But he could not make his manner
seem otherwise than cold and con-
strained, and Ida soon felt it. She
could not guess the cause, but the light
went out of her eyes, and her smile was
not so bright as when the happy even
ing began.


She was glad when Tom Burgess
came up and invited her to dance, Civ
ing her chance to get away from Max
we'll.


He, poor fellow, had no heart for
dancing. He turned away-perhaps
fate led him-and sought the shadow of
q distant window-curtain from whence
he might watch the dancers at his will.


He stationed himself behind two
matronly ladies, one of whom he did
not know, and the other knew well, for
it was his hostess and Fanny's aunt,
Mrs. Burgess.


He did not pay attention to their
conversation until the strange lady
said, "What a pretty girl Miss Ida
Ross is |"


"She is a noble girl true woman" "
replied Mrs. Burgess.


"Her dress is very becoming. But
one would hardly think she could afford
to dress SO elegantly" observed the
other lady.


"That very dress is one thing which
shows her nobleness," said Mrs. Bur-
CESS.


Chow? You interest me-" said the
lady.


"Then will tell you the story" said
Mrs. Burgess and all unawares how
interested was the listener who stood
behind her, she went on: "This is
Fanny'S farewell party, before she goes
South, you know, and she had set her
heart on having her friend Ida wear q
dress the same color as her own. She
bought herself blue satin, and wished
Ida to purchase beautiful blue Irish
poplin which they saw. Ida knew she
could not buy the dress without going
into debt for it, but she was so much
tempted that she promised to call the
next day and decide. She did go, by
herself, and told the clerk she would
not take the dress. Then she came here
and told Fanny. You know Fanny is a
little needless and little selfish, some
times, and she was so disappointed at
not having Ida wear the blue dress that
she spoke very unkindly. Ida's feel
ings, L saw, were deeply wounded, but
she only said, I will do anything 1 can
to please you, Fanny, but cannot lose
my self-respect, and [ should do so if I
went in debt for ball dress, which I
do not really need. I will not do it.
So please let me be as happy as I can
in my old white dress saw the tears
in her eyes as she spoke, and 1 quite
appreciated the struggle the young girl
had been through. It happened that I
had in my possession a piece of hand
some blue silk which DR.. Burgess sent
me while be was in Washington, last
winter, not thinking that an elderly
lady like me would appear ridiculous
in such color. With great deal of
difficulty [ persuaded Ida TO accept it
as gift from me-she made it entirely
herself, and those beautiful trimmings
she took from two other dresses of her
own, to put on this one. And the re-
suit is what you see.''


"Indeed-" began the lady who lis
tened but Maxwell Derwent waited to
hear no more. Quickly making his way
through the crowded rooms to where
Ida was just leaving the group of dan
GERS, he offered her his arm, saying:


"Miss Ross, let me take you into the
garden. 1t is oppressively warm in
here" His tone was so different from
the one he had used early in the even
ing that Ida looked up in momentary
surprise, as she accepted his offer.


Pausing at the dressing-room door to
find her shawl and throw it around her
shoulders as protection from the cool
night, they stepped out into the beauti-
full grounds lighted by the full summer
moon.


Maxwell led the way to q nook where
they were shielded from observation.
Then he stopped, and said, gently:


"Miss Ida, when I first met you this
evening, I treated you coldly. want
to ask your pardon for it now."


sit is granted" said Ida, pleasantly.
"May I know wherein had offended?"


eff I may ask one question" return
ed Maxwell, smiling down into her up
turned face,


"Ask it," said Ida, gently.


But instead Of speaking, Maxwell
stood perfectly quiet one moment.
Then turning, with quick impulse, he
caught fold of Ida's blue robe, and
lifting it to his lips, kissed it tenderly.


She looked up at him in intense as
tonishment. Without explaining his
action, he drew her to him with one
strong young arm, and said, almost
solemnly:


"Ida, I love you. Will you give
yourself to me ?"


She gave him another searching
glance. Face and voice were too grave
and earnest to admit of doubts or tri-
fling, even had she been 80 disposed.
She only let her head drop again to his
broad shoulder, and said, in low, clear
voice:


"Yes, if you will take me-"


"!f will p Both passion and tri-
umph were in Maxwell Derwent's voice
as he clasped her close to his bosom,
and holding her closer, said, gently,
"Till death do us part, Ida."


"Till death do us part" softly and
solemnly repeated Ida.


A little later Maxwell told her his
story. And at its close he kissed the
blue robe once more, saying, 8" 1t has
made me very miserable and very
happy, too"


And if he kissed the wearer as well
as the robe, I don't know who had @