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OR, A SAD CHAPTER XXVII. The sun rides high, as Burgoyne issues {nie he open har, 24d beats, blinding + Upon the great stone flags that pave the Florentine streets, and ik to have 8 peculiar power of absorbing dnd re- taining light and heat. He must have been longer in the Piazza d'Azeglio than ha had thought, and the reflection quick- @ns his step as he hurries, regardless of the midsummer blaze--{for, indeed, it is - more than equivalent to that of our mid- Summer--back to' the Anglo-Americain. As he reaches it, he hears, with annoy- . 8nce, the clock striking one. . moyed, both because the length of his absence seems to argue an indifference to the tidings he is expecting, and also "because he knows that il is the Wilsons' _luncheor: hour, and that he will proba- + bly find that they have migrated to the 3 ie-a-manger. In this case he will have to choose between the two equally disagreeable alternatives, of following 8nd walching them at their food, or that _ ®t undergoing a tete-a-tete with' Sybilla, "who, ii is needless 'to: say; does not ac. gompany her family to the public dining- 0m 5a teté-a-tete with: Sybilla, which . of all forms. of. social intercourse, at for which he has the least relish. 'Bul as he apprehensively opens the salon door, he sees that his {cars are un- founded. They have not yet gone lo luncheon; they are all sitting in much the same attitudes as he had lefi them, except that Sybille is eating or drinking . something of a soupy nature out of a .eup. There are very few hours. of the © day or night in which Sybilla is nol eat- ing something out of a cup. There is that about the entire idleness of (he other "oouple which gives him a fright. Are they too unhappy? Have they heard too bad news to be able to settle to any oc- cupation? Urged by this alarm, his question shoots out, almost before he is inside the door : "Has not he come yet? Has not the doctor come yet 7" "He has been and gone; you see you have been such a very long time away," replies Cecilia. She has no intention of conveying reproach, either by her words or. ton¢, but to his sore conscience it seems as if both carried it. "And what did he say?" "He did not say much." . "Does he--does he think that it is any- thing--anything serious?" "He did not say." "Do you mean to tell me"--indignant- ly--"that you did not ask him?" ""It you, had been here," replies" Ce- cilia, with a not inexcusable resentment, "you might have asked him yourself." "But did not you ask him" in too real anxiety to be offended at, or even aware of, her fleer. "Did not he say?" "I do not think he knew himself." "But he must have thought--he must 'have had an opinion I" growing the more uneasy as there seems no tangible ob- ject for his fears to lay hold of. "He says it is impossible to judge at 80 -early a stage; it may be a chill--I told him about that detestable excursion yesterday, .and he considered it quite 'enough to account for anything--it may "measles--they seem to be a good deal about; It may be malaria--there is a 'goed deal of that, too," . "And how soon will he knew? How Soon will it declare itself 1" - "Ido not know," "But has he prescribed? Is (here no- ing to be done--to be done al once I" asks Jim feverishly, chafing al the idea _1his inaction, which seems inevitable, th that helpless feeling which his own ative ignorance of sickness produtes, 4 not you suppose that if there was should have done it?" cries Cecilia, ered even. more uncomfortable than was before, by the eontagion of his . "We are 10 keep her in bed-- pe is no greal difficully akout that, ar soul; she has not the least desire getup; she seemis so odd and odd and heavy 1", 4 [I'went in fo see her just now, she 'scarcely. took any notice of me; when I foi her that you had been ire after her, she lit up a little, | ¢'---with a rather grudging smile 'if she werg ead, and some one your name, she would light LIFE STORY "Why were not you?" No immediate answer, A "Why were not you?" repeats she, curiosity; for. the moment Supersaling her disquiet. "What prevented you? thought, when you:lefl us, ' that you meant to come back at once?" "So 1 did, but---" "But what 1" Novia fo * "I could not; 1 was with Byng." "With Byng?" repeals Cecilia, too genuinely aslonished to remember even to prefix a "Mr" to Byng's name. "Why, 1 should have thought tinat if there. were one day of his life on which hs could have done without you better than another, it would have béen to- day!" "Were mot you rather de 'trop?' chimes in Sybilla's languid voice from the sofa, "rathera bad third ?" "I was not a third at. all." "Do you mean to say," 'cries Cecilia, her countenance tinged with the pink of a generous indignation, "that you were four--that Mrs, 'Le Marchant stayed in the room the whole time? T must say that now that they are really and bona- fide engaged, I {hink she might leave {hem alone tegether." "Mrs. Le-Marchant was not -there at all." Then, seeing the open-mouthed astonishment depicted on the faces of his audience, he ..aces his. mind to make the inevitable yet dreaded an- nouncement. "I had better explain at once that neither Mrs. nor Miss Le Mar- chant were there ; they are gone." "Gone I" "Yes; they left Florence al seven o'clock this morning." There isa moment of silent stupefac- tion. "I suppose," says Cecilia, at last slow ly recovering the power of speech, "that they were telegraphed for? Mr. Le Marchant is dead or {l1? one of the married sisters? one of the brothers?" Never in his life has Jim labored un- der so severe a temptation to tell a lie, were it only the modified falsehood of allowing Cecilia's hypothesis to pass un- contradicted ; but even if he were able for once to conquer his constitutional incapacity, he knows that in this case it would be useless, The truth must transpire to-morrow, "1 believe not." "Gone I" repeats Cecilia, in a still more thunderstruck key than before-- "and where are they gone?" "lI do not know." "Why did they go?" . } Jim makes an impatienl movement, fidgeting "on his 'chair. "I can 'only tell you their actions; -they told me their motives as little as they did to you." "Gone! Why, they never said a word about it yesterday." This being of the nature of an asser- tiocn--not an interrogation--Jim feels with relief that il does not demand an answer. "Gone at seven o'clock in the morn: ing! Why, they could not have had time to pack their things I" "They left them: behind." The moment that this admission is out of Burgoyne's- mouth, he repents having made it; . nor does his regret at all diminish under the shower of ejacula- tions from bath sisters that it calls forth. "Why, it was a regular flit! they must have taken French leave." There is something so horribly jarring in the semi-jocisity of the last phrase that Jim jumps up from his chair and walks towards the window, where Mr. Wilson i Sling in dismal idleness, Mr: 'Wilson never cared much about the Le Marchants, and is now far} too deeply absorbed in his own {rouble 3 have anything but the mosi inatten- tive indifference {0 bestow upon the topic which {o his daughters appears so riveting,' Jim' blesses him' for, his cal: lousness. But the window of a small roam is not so distant from any other art of it that sounds cannot, with' per- ect ease, penetrate thither, as Jim finds when Cecilia's next eager question pur- sues him. 3 Sai "Did Mr. Byng know that they. were geing 1" : "No 'There is'a pause, : © "It is absolutely incol ) with almos bd 3 iol tink that 1 have any right Tim hesitates ; 'then, "yes," he replies "but as it was not addressed to me, "Of course not "reluctantly ; "but dig it throw no light--ahsolutely no light 4%) gil. upon this extraordinary» stam- 6?! a ; "No ini "Did not she even tell him where {hey | - were going » \ : Nor, whether they were coming back?" "No! : ¥Nor ask him lo follow her?" ~ "If she did nol tell hit where she was going, is it' likely that she would ask him to follow her?" cries Jim irritably, deeply annoyed to find that he fs, by the series of negatives that is being forced: from him, doing. the very thing which he had just denied his own right to do. "It is the most incomprehensible thing I ever heard in 'my. life. = I wonder'-- with an air of even alerter interest than belore--"*what Mr. Greenock will say 7 Perhaps he will now tell whal he knows about them ; if they are gone, there will no longer be any need fo conceal if. 1 em afrai¢ this looks rather as if. was something I" ; For the second {ime in one day the atlombros m put: mention of an amiable flaneur's. name makes Jim vault to his feet, = § "Well, 1 will not keep you any longer from your luncheon," he cries hastily, "I will call in again later." "Are you going?" asks Mr, Wilson, dully lifting his head from his chest, upon which it is sunk. "Well, you are about right; we are not much good to any one when our mainspring is gone." The phrase strikes cold on Jim's heart "Are you going back lo {he poor dear boy 7" inquires Sybilla as he passes' her. "By-the-bye,. if it is not 1oo much trouble, would you mind tucking the Austrian blanket a little closer in on the lefl side?" and as he stoops to perform the asked-for service, she adds: "Let him know how sincerely 1 sympathize with him} and if he wenls anything quieting for his nerves, tell him {hat there is nothing that I can 'more con- scientiously recommend than----" But what Sybilla can conscientiously recommend is shut into the closing door. Outside that door Jim finds that Cecilia has joined him, Anxiety has quite ban- ished 'the not altogether disagreeable curiosity of five minutes ago, from the troubled face she lifts fo his. . "You will, come back, will not you?" she asks. "You are not of much use, I suppose; but still, one feels that you are there, and we are all so much at sea. You have not an idea how much we are at sea--without her." wr "I think that I have a very good idea," ha answers mournfully. "Tell me, Cis; de you think she is really very ill?" As he puts the question, he feels ils irrationality, He knows thal the person to 'whom he is-making his futile: appeal has -already given him all. the scanty tidings she has to give; yet he cannol help indulging a faint hope that her res- pote to (his last query of his may per- aps set Amelia's condition inn slighlly more favorable light. A look of helpless distress clouds Cecilia's already cloudy face. h "I tell you I do. not know; I am'no udge; I have seen so liltle real illness. Sybilla would kill me if she heard me say so, would not she ?"--with a slight parenthetical smile--"but I have séen so 'little real illness, that I do not know what it means that she should be so heavy and stupid, As I told you before, the 'only lime that she roused up at all was when 1 mentioned you RAE "He stops her; breaking rudely;into her. oY sentence, - He cannot bear io | nly ab.the magio of his name thal oor faithful love lifts her sick head. Tries, remem : "Someone ought to sit up wit am sure," pursues Cecilia, helpless air of ¢ et; 12 be left alone all night; but w should be 'more than willin but 1 know that 1 should fall asleep in five minutes, and 1 am such a heavy sleeper: that, when once I am off, there is no. possibility of waking me. I am a dreadfully bad sick-nurse; ' father can have me near him when ut." % Ja disquiet ; - ht hot : to do it; his