weren't here, Eily, to help me to pay | hard antagonism of the past replaced her out in her own coin. Eh?" by a look of power as of one who has He half smiled, with a glance which fought for his own place, and means to questioned whether he were going too hold it and climb higher. But the far. Only sympathy, however, deep handsome face was cold, as of yore; and guileless, looked back at him in its depth was the depth of intellect and Eily's clear-gaze. of moral force, unstirred by tenderness or passion. "Poor Russell ! I'm so dreadfully sorry -more than I can say. But she wasn't worthy of you." "Wasn't she? Ah, my innocent! I think, upon the whole, Eily, you're a little younger than nine years ago. Well, I must be off. I'm going to drown dull care in the only two ways I find efficacious." "And what are those?" "A game of billiards and a glass of fizz. If I were Stephen, I'd read Marcus Aurelius. "But you've got me too, now, when ever you want me. Don't forget that,' said Eily. V. "Stephen! Stephen!" thought Eily, gazing. She longed to run to him, as in her childhood. But she was a child no longer. That fact now weighed upon her painfully. "Eily, do you remember me?" Her attention had been momentarily diverted; and in that moment he had recognized her, crossed the room, was at her side. His deeply set eyes, with a new light in them, met her own. "What a pleasant surprise! I heard you were come home; but I thought you were sure to be changed - grown up into a fashionable young lady." Well, I am grown up," said Eily, smiling. "I can't help that, you know." Stephen smiled back. Her heart gave a wild bound. In his smile was a look which Eily had never before seen; a look of admiration, of satisfaction, of something more intense than these. "Now attend, my dear! (These conversaziónes are most instructive.) There -under that archway-is a perfect knot of savants. Look well at the tall young man with a dark moustache. He is Mr. Wade, the historian, every one says, of the future. It will be a "You are what I dreamed of ― not feather in your cap, some day, my love, what I expected," he said. He sat that you saw him in his youth. How down a little behind her, and leaned he towers above the others! Author forward, that he might gaze at her by of Cicero and his Times.' Be sure to remember. That bald-headed person, talking to him, is the famous What'shis-name, author of the book on medals. Make a mental note of all this, my dear I shall question you to-morrow." ; The diligent voice, with its demure pupil, moved on through the rooms crowded by lions and their admirers. Eily, seated beside her chaperon, the lady housekeeper, looked up, her soul in her eyes. "Author of 'Cicero and his Times,'" she repeated mechanically. Yes, there was Stephen! Stephen, as it were glorified; risen to all and beyond all her imaginings throughout the separating years. The angular youth had expanded into a man like those heroes in the old pictures; self-controlled, his head high, his mouth resolute; the stealth. 66 Yes, Eily-I had a dream of you, and I feared Have you thought me very rude for not calling ? ” The girl bowed her head, smiling still from inward joy. "I've often wished that I could beg your pardon. May I beg it now?" "I don't know why. You did me à great deal of good." "Because your soul was of the kind which gets good everywhere. I was a horrid fellow. I realize it now. I'm glad you didn't, though—if you didn't. Every day of the last fortnight I've been questioning, 'Shall I go and see 66 "Yes, it has. As you ask, I tell you. It's all through Mira. I get thinking of her, and then I get mad ; and I have to find comfort somewhere. And then, you see, the comfort leads one on." "Poor boy!" said Eily softly. He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You don't know what I am, Eily, or you wouldn't care for me." "Yes, I would. Russell, will you promise never to do it again?" "Never drink too much again? I daren't. I might break my word. Eily, you don't understand. I must have something." "I know something better," said Eily. now, Many things, no doubt; but not for There can be nothing good, ever, for me." 66 They dared, this afternoon, my dear, to tell me that on Monday night, me. Mr. Mildmay was met, at a late hour, intoxicated, staggering home. I de- Eily was silent. She laid that cool clined to listen. 'Mr. Mildmay,' I little hand of hers upon his burning said, 'is far too delightfully refined.' forehead. Fragrance, sweet and pure, Does it not shock you, Eily?" from the balcony flowers, floated into Eily sighed. The anxiety deepened the room. on her brow. "Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly,' murmured. "You've not tried that, Russell.” ap-she The same evening, when the lady housekeeper, as usual, was napping in the back drawing-room, Russell peared. He looked worn and jaded. "Play to me, Eily," he said. of the Lieder.'" "One "That old tale! I don't believe in it," he said. “I've given it all up.” "Mr. Wade!" announced the servant at the door. "Confound him, the starched anchorite!" muttered Russell, rising. He sank upon a lounge at a little distance. It was growing dusk; the electric light in the streets shone full upon his fair hair and tired face. As Eily played, she watched him, her heart" Eily, I'm off." aching. "What is it, Russell?" she asked, after half an hour's music, drawing her chair to his side. "What has he been worrying you about?" inquired Stephen, looking after him with unfriendly eyes. "Don't concern yourself, Eily; you can't change him. May I ring for lights ? " he added in a milder tone. "I've brought the books rest." Dante and the "Oh, how kind!" cried Eily, overjoyed. In Stephen's presence, her anxieties were quickly forgotten., They sat side by side at her own special table, and he interpreted to her beautiful engravings, as he had interpreted the Iliad pictures long ago. "This Beatrice has a look of you," he said, in a low tone which strangely | lose you, I lose all those-forever, thrilled her. He gazed first at the an- forever." gelic countenance, and then at Eily, lost in his own thoughts. 66 - so young, Despair was in his face so full of charm. Once more Eily looked into the night. "Stephen is strong," she thought; "Do you remember that star?" he asked suddenly. Once, before you came home, I dreamed that I saw your" he can endure. He has not spoken; face in it, far above me, smiling down." I should do him no wrong. His work Eily prayed for Russell that night; would comfort him if he needed comshe could not grieve for him. She was fort. He was always cold; perhaps it too happy for grieving. hasn't struck deep. But oh!" Her heart cried out, as if in that moment it broke. The season was drawing to its close when, one evening, he came as before. "Eily," ," he said, “I will be open with you." "I see," said Russell, turning away. "Eily, forgive me. You were so good to me once, and I deserve it. hoped- But I I deserve it all.' though I would not promise to keep straight for your Then, as she saw him about to depart sake; but yesterday I failed again. I'm in dejection, to ruin worse than death, on my road to the dogs; that's plain. a sudden passion of pity overwhelmed I'll make you that promise now, though her. -on one 66 — I'll give up drink altogether — Russell, come back. I would lay condition. It's quite impossible, any down my life to save you. I would other way." "And what is the condition ?" "That you will marry me, Eily. When I'm with you, the devil goes out of me. I've been on the slope for months. Only you can save me. Eily, blessed one! I'll make you the promise this moment because I shall no longer fear breaking it—if you will be my wife.' Eily was white before; she grew whiter now. She looked at Russell, the boy once so bright, so dear. "Stop! I must think," she said, clasping her hands wringing them, unknowing. She went to the balcony, and gazed into the deepening night. Stephen's face rose clearly before her. She would die that moment, she thought, to hear his lips say what his eyes had said so often, "Eily, I love you." "Russell, how could you be happy with me?" she said. "You don't care for me. You cared for Mira." He laughed mockingly. "Mira! That little demon who lured me on, and then. - yes, I cared for her. But she was never to me what you have been. She maddened me; and youyou are rest, holiness, salvation. If I and I will. Yes, I will be your wife." They clung together as when they were children; and the love was still burning which had strengthened her to suffer, long before. 66 "I can guess a little, now, what the Saviour felt when he died for us when he left heaven for us," she said in her broken heart. VII. THE professor, although his head was in the clouds, had sufficient acquaintance with Russell to preclude consent to any open engagement, or to marriage before the spring. But the lady housekeeper, who had formed her own conclusions, begged that the secrecy might not include Stephen. Thus, upon a sultry morning, as Eily sat alone in the drawing-room, a quiet step mounted the stairs, and Stephen's voice at the door said, "Can I speak to you? Eily, I will take this only from your own lips. Is it true?" "That I am engaged? Yes." "Yes." He had stood near her. He moved to a little distance, and sat down. "I would speak to your father, only It is not my place to interfere. | her fathoming. "If I perish, I perish," Yet, to you, I must speak. Do you she thought wildly. know Russell's character ?" "No one can be really worthless, if Christ really died," murmured Eily. "And it is your deliberate choice? You know little of the world, but still -you are twenty years old, and you have plenty of sense. It is your deliberate choice to marry him?" Eily bowed her head. A long silence followed. Then, his voice low and calm, with a resolute, outward calm, Stephen said, "I have made an awful mistake." Eily raised her eyes. He was looking down, his hands clenched, his brow flushed and contracted. "I told you, when we first met again, that I had been afraid to see you. I am not a man given to dreams. I had only one. But that one was my life." He rose. "Good-bye," he said. "Stephen, don't be angry," she cried feebly. "I am not angry. I am only disappointed. Disappointed? Oh, the weakness of words! I mean, I am only shipwrecked. Eily, I have never in my life loved any creature, man or woman, but you. I loved you from the first moment when I saw you. It is woven, like bindweed, with my being. Why do I tell you? I shall repent afterwards. For what, in my right mind, could I ever desire or admire in any óne who chose Russell as a friend - far less, as a husband? I have been like many another, deluded by a face, just as you yourself were always infatuated, I remember, by that golden hair-to quote your novels. You were never the Eily I mistook you for. You had nothing in common with her." Once more the girl looked up. His eyes were full of hard anguish. Into her own flashed a desperate appeal. Should she explain? But ah! if she explained, his indomitable will would break the cords of the sacrifice! Russell would be lost, in depths beyond Yet, for the first time, he felt a touch of perplexity, of irresolution, as he looked back into her eyes. Only his iron self-control, the growth of a life of fortitude, restrained the mad impulse to snatch her to his heart. He would not touch that which was another man's. He clenched his hands more tightly. "If Russell should fail you, after all, and if it is a million to one - still, if I misjudge you, remember! I shall not be changed. That is my curse. I cannot change. Would that I could, you fair, false girl ! " Then, in a moment, without one more word or look, he had left her. "O God!" moaned Eily, kneeling with hidden face, "if there is no other way to save Russell, let me die! let me die!" VIII. THE months had rolled by to December. London was unusually full, as the fashionable world counts fulness. One day Eily read in a society paper that Lord and Lady Nortonbury had arrived, from Paris, at the Grand Hotel. She had realized of late how precarious was her hold upon Russell. For some weeks after their engagement he had seemed happy, but then again had shown signs of restlessness; his visits had slackened — followed by repentance, amendment, restlessness once more. The girl felt often sick at heart, bewildered, and terrified when she thought of the future. "I met Wade this morning,” said the professor, bolting his soup. "He has been in Greece, gathering materials for his book. He looks shockingly thin." "So I heard," said the lady housekeeper. After dinner Eily followed her chaperon to the cosy nook in the back drawing-room. What have you heard," she asked, lowering the gas, "about Stephen ?" "You mustn't appear too anxious," | Eily ! I can't help it, dear, I can't help said the lady housekeeper, laughing. it." "Poor fellow he has been out of "But you won't go, Russell?" She health for months. Running down, clung to him, her arms about his neck. Dr. Wallace calls it; no disease, but a 'Russell, Russell, I laid down my life steady lowering of vitality. If it goes for you. I did. Oh, more than my on, it will be serious; and yet they can life! Was it all for nothing? Oh, detect no cause.' don't go, Russell! Never mind your broken promise! I'll take you as you are. I'll try to please you better. I'll ask father. Only don't, don't go." "Let me alone, Eily." He untwined her arms. "If she wrote to me from hell, I would go to her." "Are you comfortable now?" said Eily. "I'm so tired! I think I'll go to bed." She crept away to hide her bitter tears. Russell had not called for some days. The next evening he rushed in unexpectedly. "Russell! Is Stephen worse?" exclaimed Eily, who, as usual, was sitting alone. 66 Stephen?" he said, with a sharp look at her. "Who thought of Stephen? Don't remind me of that selfsufficient Stoic. I came to tell you that I have broken my promise. All right, Mrs. Vernon! You go back to your sofa. I'm only just explaining something to Eily. By your leave," and he closed the folding doors. "There! She thinks me awfully rude, but what of that? I must throw up the sponge, Eily. You've been a darling, an angel but angels are thrown away upon me. Yes, I went mad last night. And do you know why? I saw Mira. She leaned over her box in the theatre. She looked at She did not mind my looking at her. She smiled. I could never withstand her smile." me. 66 "Russell!" cried Eily, aghast. "I beg your pardon, Eily a thousand thousand times. If you care for me, I'm sorry. But you don't, I know. It's all over. I must go my own way." He started up wildly. A crumpled note was in his hand. Quick as thought Eily seized it. "Grand Hotel, Wednesday. "I shall be alone after seven. Come and see me." 66 Russell, Mira sent you this? You won't go tell me you won't go ! " 'Why, do you care, darling? Don't cry. I hate to hurt you. I'm so sorry, Then he dashed out of the room and down the stairs. The hall door closed with a bang. IX. STEPHEN was leaning over Westminster Bridge, his eyes fixed upon the water, which the wintry sunset illuminated with a red and fitful glow. His face was hollow and worn; he looked like one who has no interest in life, who is waiting silently until life relaxes her hold - physically weak, moreover, not caring to change his dreamy posture. The river flowed by, and behind him the people hurried to and fro. Presently quick footsteps slackened, stopped, approached his side. He raised his head, half dazed, and saw Russell. "Why, Stephen, old chap! I heard you were bad, and you look it, with a vengeance! But I haven't a moment. Can you walk on with me? I've something to say." "What is it?" asked Stephen coldly. "I want you to take a message for I'm off to New Zealand. My father bought land there me. Suddenly his speech was ended. A smart pony carriage, driven by a lady, was rapidly crossing the bridge. Russell, intent upon his subject, had not observed it. Only Stephen saw the exquisite form, the bright hair waving below the fashionable hat, the sparkling eyes, and recognized Mira. She recognized them also- the two young men walking in her direction, side by side. Those eyes looked from one to the other; their sparkle became |