Year: 1873

as ever. Indeed, she was far more at- tractive, for the disappearance ot Valmy left her free to divide her smiles and kindly words among the general crowd of her admirers. But there was a strange sort of anxiety every now and then in her eyes, as If she were always expecting some one who never came. For the first time in the whole of her bright life she was suffering mental pain. She had sometimes had head ache, and had suffered from sore throat; and she had experienced disappoint- ment about dresses and balls and such like but she knew now for the first time what heart-pang is.

 Yet it was not much evidence of @ de- veloping soul which Gabrielle Ransome gave when, toward the close of the season, she consented to promise her hand to the- richest and the least in- tellectual of all her admirers. The thing was done very suddenly. There seemed no special reason why she should now all at once encourage this gentleman, whom she had so long dis couraged. She seemed to act as one does who,. having disagreeable duty to do, suddenly starts up and rushes at the doing of it to get rid of it.

 "Papa," said Gabrielle one day, coming up to her father with flushed face and quivering lips, (" I have prom ised Gervase Trenchard to marry him. "

 "Indeed, love? We'll, am delight l ed, of course. Gervase Trenchard is one of the richest men in the State :; and he is very good fellow, and all that but, Gabrielle, had you any par ticular reason for singling out Tren- chard ?"

 "Why do you ask, papa, when have singled him out ?"

 "Because, child, you never seemed to me to care much about him."

 "You dear papa, you don't under stand the way of girls"

 We'll, suppose I don't, my love. Any one you choose, Gabrielle, is well come son-in-l law to me. I only want to see you happy. and I hope you are very happy now"

 But Gabrielle had hurried from the room. Her heart was too full-with happiness, perhaps-to hear any more. She hid herself in her own room, and manifested her happiness in tears and sobs.

 Now if MT. Ransome had been man of sense and strength-if, besides a fond affection for his daughter, he had had the faculty to understand and the power to guide her-he could before this, or even now, have saved her from much distress and the danger of con- mitting very great wrong. Is there any wrong girl like Gabrielle Ran some can commit greater thar the sin of marrying for some mean motive a man she does not and cannot love Gabrielle was about to marry MT. Trenchard for @ motive which, though she be my heroine, I must admit to be mean. Were her feelings thoroughly analysed, had she herself the courage to analyze them, they would thus have explained themselves. In her heart she loved Eugene Valmy-that is, she would have found satisfaction for the highest aspirations of her soul (and, with all her fashionable weaknesses, she had some aspirations) if he were only 8 brilliant match in the worldly sense. But because he was not this she had not the courage even to listen to her own impulses nay, she was even angry when at first she found that she had such impulses. She had not even Becky Sharp's excuse of want of money. But her ambition, born and bred and nur- tured under the demoralizing, debasing influences of the society in which she lived, was to make splendid match, and be wondered at, admired, and en- vied. So she flung Valmy off; and then, when he was gone, beginning to find, to her dismay, that she really had a heart, she could think of no remedy, no refuge, but in sudden deed of moral suicide. She flung herself into an engagement with Gervase Trenchard in just that spirit of despair which makes many poor girl, under other circumstances, fling herself into the river. For myself, I never could un- derstand why we should all be so much more mortified at the physical than at the moral act of suicide.

 MT. Ransome did not think of all this; and in any case his affection never could find any nobler way of expressing itself than in letting his daughter "please herself" as he phrased it.

 So she was now pleasing herself with out let or hindrance, and weeping bit terly and alone. Poor Lady Disdain! These fine, fashionable creatures, too, they have their feelings.

 Gabrielle rode out with her fdnce one day on a road which ran along the margin of the sea. It was an exquisite day of early autumn the leaves were just beginning to turn to crimson and purple and gold, and the western sky was beginning to hang out the same colors; and the sea wore the deep wine color which Homer pictures in one of his wondrous phrases. How glorious the scene! and how dull the pair who rode along! They hardly spoke. Ga brielle was quite out of humor-sick of the scene, of herself, of life and her good-natured lover, having tried many ways of amusing her and failed disas- trously, began to discover that she pre- ferred to be let alone, and meekly en- Seavored to consult her pleasure &C., cordingly. In fact, she had been tor turing herself by remembering, and trying not to remember, one evening when she rode along this very path with 1 Valmy, and when the charm of his con- versation, lambent as it was with sym- pathy and with intellect, first won it's way into her heart. How dull and va cant and vapid her lover seemed now who rode by her side! How provoking his stupid good nature! How distress. ing his efforts at conversation! Was this, then, to be her companion for life : or, rather, was she to go through life companionless She grew sick at heart and angry and bitter, and, like 6 true woman, che vented her anger on the nearest object, her chosen lover.

 They rode along wearily until they came within sight of pretty little cot. tage which looked upon the sea- and near which boat and some nets were lying. Gabrielle's quick ear caught sound as of wailing within the cot tage. She had often seen the little house before, and had spoken to neat old dame who usually sat at the doo1 engaged in some piece of domestic