Then a flash came into her eyes, and the | or a sugar basin with a very large pair of old spirit asserted itself.

in Bond Street, "we are close to Gunter's, | if you would do me the honor to eat an ice?"

"I will do you the honor with great pleasure," and she thought to herself, "his manner really is like Aunt Anne's this afternoon. If she had only married him instead of that horrid Mr. Wimple we could have called him uncle with pleasure." She sat eating her very large strawberry ice, while he tasted his at intervals as if he were rather afraid of it.

"Did the white cockatoo die?" she asked. He almost started, he was so surprised at the question.

"The white cockatoo ?""

"You spoke of it last year— that night when Mrs. Baines dined with us."

"I remember now," he said solemnly; "yes, it died, Mrs. Hibbert. For five years it was perhaps my most intimate friend, and the companion of my soli

tude."

"Why did it die?"

"Ethel says you have been very kind to her about George," Florence said in a low voice, for she was almost afraid to refer to it, "but you are kind to everybody."

Mr. Fisher turned and looked at her with a grateful expression in his clear, mild eyes; but she knew that he did not want to make any other answer. Gradually he put on his editorial manner as if to ward off more intimate conversation, and when he left her at the door of her house, for he refused to come in, she felt, as she looked after him, that she had been present at the ending of the last little bit of romance in his life.

Florence and Walter were in high spirits when they started for their holiday.

"Two days in Paris," he said as they drove to the hotel, "and then we'll crawl down France towards the south, and I will introduce you to the Mediterranean Sea. It's a pity we can only eat one din"It pulled a door-mat to pieces, and we ner a night, considering the number of fear it swallowed some of the fibre. My good ones there are to be had here. To housekeeper, who is a severe woman, beat be sure, if we manage carefully, we can it with her gloves and it did not recover.' ." do a little supper on the Boulevard afterHe spoke as if he were recounting a trag-wards; still that hardly counts. But I edy, and became so silent that Florence felt she had ventured on an unlucky topic. But it was always rather difficult to make conversation for Mr. Fisher when she was alone with him; there were so few things he cared to discuss with a woman. Politics he considered beyond her, on literary matters he thought she could form no opinion, and society was a frivolity it was as well not to encourage her to consider too much. Suddenly a happy thought struck her.

don't think we can stay any longer, dear Floggie, even to turn you into a Parisian."

Forty-eight hours later saw them in the express for Marseille, where they stayed a night in order to get the coast scenery by daylight, as they went on to Monte Carlo.

"It's a wonderful city," Walter said, with a sigh, as they strolled under the trees on the Prado. "The Jew, and the Turk, and the infidel, and every other manner of man has passed through it in his turn. Doesn't it suggest all sorts of pictures to you, darling?

"Yes," she answered a little absently, "only I was thinking of Monty and Catty."

"We ought to wait a day and go to see Monte Cristo's prison."

"Yes," but she was not very eager. Her thoughts were with her children. Walter was always able to enjoy things, and to garnish them with the right memories. "I wonder if we shall find letters from home when we get to Monte Carlo," she added.

"I hope so," he answered gently, but he said no more about the associations of Marseille.

As they were leaving the big hotel on the Cannebière the next morning, a lady entered it. She had evidently just ar rived; her luggage was being carried in.

"I shall be here three nights," they

heard her say to the manageress. "I leave for England on Thursday morning." At the sound of her voice Florence turned round, but she had gone towards the staircase. The Hibberts had to catch their train, and could not wait.

"It was Mrs. North, Walter," Florence said, as they drove to the station; "I wish I could have spoken to her. She looked a lonely little figure entering that big hotel."

"But there was no time," he answered; "if we lost our train we should virtually lose a day."

"I wonder why she has come here?" "The ways of women are inscrutable." "I meant to have written and told her about Aunt Anne, but I had so much to do before we left London that I really forgot it."

"You might send her a line from Monte Carlo; you heard her say that she was to be at Marseille three days; and then perhaps it would be better to leave her alone." "I should like to write to her just once, for I am afraid I was not very kind that day; but she took me by surprise."

"Very well, then, write to her from Monte Carlo. It will give her an idea that we are not such terrible patterns of virtue ourselves, and perhaps she'll find that a consolation; but I don't see what more we can do for her. It is very difficult to help a woman in her position. She has put out to sea in an open boat, and even if she doesn't get wrecked every craft she runs against is sure to hurt her."

said to herself, "so hungry for all the things I have never had-I wonder if I shall die soon- I can't go on living like this, longing and waiting and hoping and grasping nothing- I wish I could see the water. If I had courage I would drive down and look at it - or walk past those people sitting out on the pavement, and go down to the sea. There might be a ship sailing by towards England, and I should know how his ship will look if it ever sails by. Or a ship going on towards India, and I could look after it knowing that every moment it was getting nearer and nearer to him. To-morrow I will find out precisely where the P. & O.'s sail from for Bombay; then I shall be able to guess what it all looked like when he set his foot on board a year ago. Oh! thank God, I may think of him now that I am free that it is not wickedness any longer to think of him, or to love him," she added, with almost a sob.

She got up and looked round the room. It was nearly dark. She could see the outline of the furniture and of her own figure dimly reflected in the long glass of the wardrobe.

"The place is so full of shadows they frighten me. But I am frightened at everything." She flung herself down on the couch at the foot of the bed. "I wonder if the people who have always done right ever for a moment imagine that the people who have done wrong can suffer as much — oh, a thousand times more than themselves. They seem to imagine that sin is a sort of armor against suffering, and it does not matter how many blows are administered to those who have gone off the beaten track." She pillowed her head on her arms and watched the moving reflection of the light from the street. In imagination she stared through it at the long years before her, wondering almost in terror how they would be filled. "I am so young," she thought, "and I may live so long - there was a knock at her bedroom door.

"Come in," she cried, thankful for any interruption.

The letter was duly written and sent to the hotel at Marseille. It found Mrs. North sitting alone in her big room on the first floor. She was beside the open window watching the great lighted cafés, and the happy people gathered in little groups round the tables on the pavement. "Oh, what a pity it is," she said to her་ self," that we cannot remember. I always feel as if we had lived since the beginning and shall go on till the end — if end there is; but if one only had a memory to match how wonderful it would be. If I could but see this place just once as it was hundreds of years ago, with the Greek people walk- "For me!" She seized it with feverish ing about and the city rising up about haste and looked at the direction by the them. Now it looks so thoroughly awake window while the candles were being with its great new buildings and horrible lighted. "I declare," she said, when the improvements, but if it ever sleeps how door was closed behind the garçon, "it is wonderful its dreams must be. If one from the immaculate Mrs. Hibbert. May could get inside them and see it all as it the saints have guarded her from contamonce was. She turned her face longingly ination while she wrote it to me." Her towards the port at the far end of the happy spirits flashed back, and the weary Cannebière, "I am so hungry to see woman of five minutes ago was a lighteverything, and to know everything," she | hearted girl again.

"A letter for madame."

"It is rather a nice letter," she said, When it was finished her excitement and propped up the wicks of the flickering gave way, her spirits ran down, she went candles with the corner of the envelope. | wearily back to the sofa and pillowed her "I believe she wrote merely out of kind-head on her arms once more. "I wonder ness; it proves that there is some gener- what the next incident will be, and how osity in even the most virtuous heart. I'll many days and nights it is off." She shut write to the old lady" she stopped her eyes and in thought hurried down the and reflected for a minute or two. "Poor street to the old port. She saw the masts old lady, she was very good to me, she of ships and the moving water and the was like a mother-no woman has called passing lights in the distance. "Oh, me my love' since she went away." She God!" she said to herself, "how terrible walked up and down the room for a mo- it is to think that the land is empty for me ment, and looked out again at the wide from end to end. Though I walked over street and the flashing lights. Suddenly every mile of it I should never see his she seized her blotting-book, and knelt face or hear his voice, and there is not a down by the table in the impulsive manner heart in the whole of it that cares one that characterized her. "I'll write at single jot for me. And the great sea is once," she said. "Of course it will shock there, and the ships going on and on and her sweet old nerves, but I know she'll be not a soul on board one of them who glad to hear from me though she won't knows that I live or cares if I die. It own it even to herself:' frightens me and stuns me and frightens me again. I am so hungry, and longing, "DEAREST OLD LADY,-I have been and eager for the utter impossibilities. longing to know what had become of you. Oh, my darling, if you had only trusted I only heard a little while ago that you me, if you could have believed that the sin were a happy bride, and I have just suc- was outside me and not in my heart, I ceeded in getting your address. A thou- would have been so good, I would have sand congratulations. I hope you are very made myself the best woman on earth so much in love, and that Mr. Wimple is that I might give you the best love that truly charming. He is indeed a most forever Heaven sent into human heart." tunate man and to be greatly envied by There was another knock at the door, and the rest of his sex. something like a cry escaped from her lips. "Come in," and again the garçon entered with a letter. This time it was a thick packet.

--

"I fear you will be shocked to hear that Mr. North has divorced me. I never loved him, you know. I told you that when you were so angry with me that day in Cornwall Gardens, and it was not my fault that I married him. I have been very miserable, and I don't suppose I shall ever be happy again. But the world is a large place, and I am going to wander about; I have always longed to see the whole of it; now I shall go to the east and the west and the north and the south like a wandering Jewess. But before I start on these expeditions I shall be in England for a few weeks and should like to see you. Would you see me? I don't suppose you would come near me or let me go near you, though I should like to put my head down on your shoulder and feel your kind old arms round me again.

"I am afraid you have eaten up all your wedding-cake, dear old lady, and even if you have any left you would no doubt think it far too good for the likes of me. I wonder if you would accept a very little wedding present from me, for I should so much like to send you one? My love to you and many felicitations to both you and Mr. Wimple.

"Yours always,

"E. NORTH."

"This is also for madame," he said, "it is from England." She waited until the door had closed behind him before she opened it.

The envelope contained a dozen enclosures. They looked like bills and circulars sent on from her London address. Among them was a telegram.

"I suppose it's nothing," she said, as with trembling hands she opened it. It was from Bombay, and contained three words,

"Sailing in Deccan."

She fell down on her knees by the table, and putting her face in her hands, burst into passionate weeping.

"Oh, dear God," she prayed, "forgive me and be merciful to me. I have not meant to do wrong, I have only longed to be happy. Oh, dear Father, let me be so. I will try to do right all my life long and to make him do right too, only let him love me still. I have never been happy, let me be happy now. I have suffered so, I have suffered so. Oh, dear God, is it not enough › Forgive me, and let me be happy."

From The Nineteenth Century.

erick became duke of Hanover, and, when he died, in 1679, Ernst August, in his turn, succeeded to that duchy.

THE STORY OF AN UNHAPPY QUEEN. FEW stories embodying so much of interest and romance, and withal so much Sophia, Ernst August's wife, was the of historical prominence, have remained daughter of Elizabeth, queen of Bohemia more obscure and uncertain in many facts that beautiful and unhappy princess and details than that of the Königsmarck who in her own life and person continued tragedy, which stained the name and fame to experience the long series of misfor of the Hanoverian court in the year 1694. tunes that dogged the footsteps of the Sift matters which way we will, doubt Stuarts. She was the youngest child of rests upon many of the particulars, and, her parents, and was endowed with rare indeed, principally upon the all-important gifts and intellectual powers. In the days question of the relations that existed be- of their early manhood she had won the tween Königsmarck and Sophia Dorothea, admiration of both brothers, and George the ill-starred daughter of the duke of William, then duke of Hanover, had ofCelle, and the consort of George Louis offered her his hand, which she gladly acHanover, afterwards our George the First. cepted. Very shortly after his betrothal, One may always safely assume that the world's ill-nature will outrun any one's misdeeds; therefore, it is no wonder that the general belief was that she was unfaithful to her churlish and cruel husband. Her guilt has, however, not been proved, and, while the cynic and detractor may, if they please, assume the existence of misconduct, it is equally open to the charitable minority to believe that, in spite of her miserable and neglected life, she remained true to her marriage-vow at any rate, there are no more proofs of the one postulate than of the other.

however, he revolted against the prospective bonds of matrimony, and, in his eager desire to escape, bribed his younger brother, Ernst August, to assume them in his stead. Ernst August, who was at this time possessed of neither dukedom nor estates, was by no means loth to listen to his brother's proposal, and Sophia, who was a very clever, practical woman, was quite ready to accommodate herself to any contingency that presented itself to her as an advantageous one. A sceptic in matters religious, of cultivated intellect, discerning, sarcastic, observant, she confronted The marriage of the ill-assorted pair the intricacies of life with a due regard to was negotiated by the two brothers: Ernst expediency rather than to any other conAugust, then duke of Hanover, on the sideration. At this crisis, therefore, she one hand, desiring that the large fortune showed herself ready to adapt herself to possessed by his elder brother, the duke the altered state of the duke of Hanover's of Celle, should eventually pass to his mind, and when the suggestion was made branch of the family, while the latter, with by him that Ernst August should take his the brilliant possibility of the British place as her betrothed, and on this condicrown glittering on the horizon of the fu- tion enjoy the major part of the Hanoture, longed to secure to his daughter so verian revenues, he (George William) splendid a position. Ernst August was binding himself never to marry at all, so eagerly seconded in his efforts by his un- as to secure the succession to his brother, scrupulous wife, Sophia, afterwards the she not only showed not the smallest famous electress of Hanover. It mattered pique at thus being allotted and dealt with little that ever since the child's birth sheas a part of the movables, but she assured had regarded her with jealousy and dislike; these sentiments, she found, had to yield to the exigencies of her greed; and it must be acknowledged that the position was exceptional and peculiar.

her brother, the elector palatine, who was somewhat staggered at the arrangement, that as far as she was concerned, so as she obtained a good establishment, it mattered not in the least which of the two brothers she married. Things having arrived at this satisfactory stage, the contract was signed and the marriage was solemnized.

Although George William's affection did not go the length of desiring Sophia in marriage, yet he was sufficiently drawn towards her to find her companionship and a joint home with her and with his brother very pleasant and acceptable. Sophia had always commanded his admi