Year: 1876

drenched, rigid thing of stone, in place of the boy so full of restless life. It seemed to her chastisement from Heaven. When envious earth had hidden away his beau- ty, what was left her? Then, like sud- den light within the darkness of her soul, came the answer, God and life-God to trust, life to make the most of. Hitherto what had 1t been, joy or sorrow, but self seeking?

 Patiently she set herself to unravel the tangled skein; and in thus suffering and losing all, she gained-herself.

 Even on her aunt the influence of her sweetness won steadily; and once again she was the goal of George Bonds aspira- tions: while on her part, in the sympathy grown up between them, she did more justlce to his real nobility. -.. To Ashford she had never told her fail ure, shrinking from it month by month, until now his absence was nearly at an end, and she would see him soon. The | book whose earnestness and power had brought him truer fame than the shallow cleverness of his earlier one seemed but to remove him further from her, and the little country girl strove to feel less keen- ly the difference between them. What associations the place recalled But she had buried her love forever, only letting it's fragrance steal throagh her life as roses in some hidden drawer per- fume room. She would never marry; she would

 "Clemence p Was the voice out of her dream ? 'I did not mean to startle you, but they told me you were here." After all, there was nothing melodxamic about 1t. His coming was the most hatu- ral thing in the world, only love exagger- ates the veriest triae to importance: and where sentiment has stolen in by one door, common-sense generally slips out by the other.

 She had thought to greet him SO calmly, but the tears were in her eyes as she handed him packet always carried with her, and the little speech to serve on the occasion was forgotten-as proper little speeches always are, the new wine burst ing the old bottle.

 ''Here is the ring you gave me, Mir. Ashford. dId my best, but IT could not''-Here the voice broke down a mo- ment. Then, trying to smile. "You said You would lose your interest in me; but it was not my fault that-I did not suc- cee6."

 He had taken her hand in both his own before she finished speaking. Now he quietly replaced the ring on its accus- toned finger.

 My poor little girl, since my return I have heard it all. Why did you choose to suffer your disappointment alone Did you care nothing for my sympathy ?-for those foolish words, spoken in the merest jest, could scarcely have such weight with you. You little know" And though the sentence was unfinished, her hand was held the closer

 After quiet-hued resignation this fullness of happiness seemed almost painful-like sunlight when it smites the eyes long used to prison darkness--as she began to real lze that she was dearer than her voice. And Ashford found new charm in her more irresistible than the old.

 They wenton talking for while, but in tones so low that, although We frankly confess we did our best to listen, the words escaped even our ubiquitous ear. Presently, however, we caught the follow ing, ln answer to what Ashford had been saying:

 ''No, no; can not. It is too unequal"

 ''Yes, replied he, smiling; 1T realize my unworthiness. But, .Clemence, you can never know how you have changed my aims and feelings. And partly because wished to do something more deserving of you, partly from my fear lest you might regret having ignorantly bound yourself to me, when your glorious gift should bring you into contact with others wor- thier of you. refrained from telling you my love on going away. But you have made me in earnest, Clemence. The best

 The fame she had regarded as one bar. rier the more was due to her She thrill ed to think of it. And as one needs win ter to revel in soft spring, so her past wretchedness had been training for the present joy. Yet still sine hesitated, and still that pleading voice.

 "But, Clemence, think of yourself You never belonged to these people. If you will not say 1t with your lips, let your yes be spoken so." And he held 0ut his hand.

 Just then, from the open window, float ed out through the shrubbery Uncle Zab- dieps voice in conversation with Aunt Ketury.

 ''Yaas, twas the all-fredest fat critter ever laid eyes on. Goes ahead of the last one by seventy five pounds, eff it does an ounce"

 ''Shoh p responded his helpmeet, way ering between admiration and disbelIef.

 At these words from the Pair Practical, the Pair Sentimental looked at each other and laughed. Then, without speaking, Clemence placed her hand in his expect ant one, and down the winding river-path they passed through the gates of that par adise mortals know but once.

 No rose without it's thorn. George Bond, in the twilight, gave sudden start on seeing those two figures outlined against the mountain, and then went gravely on, though that one look had darkened all his future.