Year: 1878

your wounded self-love, sore from that part ing with Margaret Power-you do not love | her."

 1 slip from the couch as Mrs Colquhoun | speaks 1 fall upon my knees in the darkness, covering down as from a blow that know is l about to fall.

 Harriet you shall not speak such words to me: She loves me, my poor darling my little Heartsease, with all her gentle heart !" In that moment have read the story of the past. know it all, as though some tongue l had told it over to me, word by word, and l know that Dick has never loved me as he once | loved Margaret Power; or as he loves her now when she has once more, in her beauty and her charm, crossed his pathway. | 'YOu are not the first man." hear Dicks sister continue, ''who has fancied his heart caught on the rebound and l can well imagine the child's adoratlon of you soOthed the old pain but, if you vaunt her love for you, l I can match the boast. Margaret Power quarrel ed with you-loVing you all the while; sent you from her-loving you all the while"

 There is a smothered exclamation from ! Dick but she takes no heed.

 'In the passion of her pain and her resent ment she promised to become the wife of man at once title and millionaire loving you all the while; but at the last, at the very last, she dare not, could not carry out her pledge. She | l 'I never knew-you never told me !'' l The words came from Dicks lips like a cry of pain. l Ut was too late; you were engaged to that l child whom you had met. and in whose love you told me you had found rest and healing 1 knew you we'll enough to know you would be true to her, for honOr's sake unless by some coup d'etat I could unveil to your eyes the enormity of the sacrifice and the state of your 'own heart-and Margaret's-"

 "Oh my GodI"

 know the words are uttered by white lips white with the anguish that her words cause He would not care for my being the ''penni- less daughter of a blackleg;" he would not sell his soul for wealth and position his sister has done l; but he loves this dark-eyed lovely woman with passion and intensity that he never has given, and never can give to me

 What beautiful thing is the death of a day

 A line or two of pale orange-pink on the horizon overhead just faint rose-tint here and there; an opal-tinged mist in the distance; the river lying dark and still, a mirror in which each separate pollard has it's refection-a re- f1ection so clear as to be duplicate of itself; and above all, the grand massive towers of the Minister keeping watch over the venerable city.

 It is at the close of such fair eventide that once again near the City of York. l have travelled all day, from early dawn, and sup pose the usual number of hours have been consumed in the journey. cannot however, guage or define the duration of time for sure Fly it is lifetime since 1 crOuched in that darkened room, and listened to words that sounded in my ears as ''the crack of doom."

 There has been nothing romantic or mysteri- ous in my flight form Merlew0od. No one is uncertain as to my rout nor yet is it needful to have the ground searched or the bay drcdgcd for my possible corpse. I do not believe in interviews and scenes and picturesque partngs between people who must be torn asunder. ''If 'twere done, then 'twere well it were done quickly" is to my mind one of the wiscst say ings on record

 l. Somehow, hardly know how, got to my room that night, after hearing the story of Dicks first love :" somehow, wrote tO hlm, and though dare say the words were treniu- lously penned, and know tear splashed down upon the paper more than once. l am sure the sense of what I wanted to say was clear and to the purpose.

 ''I could not help it, Dick 1 overheard you and your sister talking tonight. l know all about how you love Margaret Power. l am glad have been some little comfort to you, sometimes When have written this l an going to push it under your door. Then l am going to pack up few things in my handbag, ana WalK to the SClLIOn III the carry morning before any of you are stirring. l shall catch the first train that passes through to the north. No one need be anxious about me no one need to come and see after me- for am going straight home to mamma, and l know the chil- dren will be pleased to have me back. There is only one thing 1 want you to do for me, and that is-never try to sec me, and never write to me about anything. Nothing can do any good and that you know as well as I do. Goodbye, dear Dick" did not sign any name to the letter. he would know quite we'll with out that, that it came from her whom he used once to call his ''little Heart's-ease." Some- times, even now, when life's journey is very far traversed, l seem to see, as in dream, the other journey, when wan, whitehead girl lay huddled in the corner of a railway carriage, and moaned in the exceeding bitterness of her pain, "Oh Dick! thought you loved me, dear, indeed did!"

 And then fancy 1 see her-poor young weary creature walking slowly up the avenue through the ragged and neglected garden of her home, looking neither to the right nor to the left, but ever straight on-straight on, toward one whose love she knows can never fail. At last reached the ''haven where she would be-" see her sink upon her knees be- side her mothers couch and hear her cry: 'Mother-it is I-your child-Pansie- , come back to you, never to leave you any more! {! Dear-it is you who must be my Hearts case now T"