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: coughs; he des not : aseemly jests, nor to have ht vity aud exc! 1sivenoss of the intelligence he receives ue. He turns to Litroff, lalks of Russian politics, and brings the sonversation round to the Princess Babaroff, Blanford, appearing absorbed in his book, lies on his couch wonder- ing whether he should meet ae "anywhere about tLe gardens if he went out. He listens angrily when . he hears her name. "Was sho ever talked about? asks Mr. Wootton, searching the hosieshelves. What charming woman is not?' rebirns Litroff, gallantly. y "My dear' count," replied . Mr. "Wootton, with grave rebuke, "we have thousands of noble wives and mothers in England before: whom Satan himself would be obliged to bow in reverence." "Ah, . truly," says Litroff; "so have we, I dare say; I have never anked," 'No doubt you have,' says Mr. Wootton, kindly. "The virtue of its women is the great safeguard of a nation." "One understands why Euogland is losing her nice equipoise, then, now,"" murmurs RBlanford. Mr. Wootton disregards him. "Mme. Babaroff was talked about, I think, unjustly, no doubt' he insists. Mr. Wootton always insists. Ah)' says Iatroff, apologeti: cally; "SBabaroff was such a great brute. It was very natural--" "What was natural?' a she should console her- 'Ah! she did console herself 1' Litroff smiles. "Ask Lord Ger vase; he was Lord Baird at that time. We all expected he would have: married 'her when Samaroff was shot." 'But it was Leitnitz who 'shot Babaroff in a duel about her?' 'Not. about her. - Leitnitz quar- reled with him about a gambling affair, not about her at all, though people have said so. Lord Baird-- Gervase--was, 1 am certain, her first lover, and has been her only ;- one, as yet." Blanford flings" his book with nome. violence on the floor, gets up and walks to the window. Mr. Wootton looks afier him. "No one could blame her," says Litroff, who is a good-natured man. "Bhe was married when she was poarcely sixteen to a brute; she was immensely admired ; she w was one in the midst of a society both Joose and brilliant; Gervase laid siege to her sans treve, and she was hardly more tha a child," "Where. there is no principle early implanted," begins Mr. Woot: ton. ing. "My dear sir, ihe principle : tot i wore easily implan 'women than in: handsomer on 'Mme. Sabaroft is a proud. woman which comes' to nearly the fame thing as a high-principled one. Bhe has lived like a gaint since _ goa shot, and if she take up mat- ters with her early lover again, it 'will only she, 1 imagine, this time Bou le bon' motiff. ~~ Anyhow, I don 't see why ve should blame 'her ently, rely, ing more than once; but the mar EE ie of rumsisn: given ea «ality and substance eh 'the vague, uncertain bon Leis ously, no mg even. speaks; of her with and admiration; therefore his. timony has a pd iy about. i which would be: lacking in' any | mere malicious scandal, It is ifitense inful to to him "to believe, or even to admit to him- self as possible, that it may be thus true. . She seems to him & very queen among woinen; all the ro- mance if his temperament clothes her with ideal qualities. He walks on unconsciously till he has left the western. garden and entered: the wood which joing it, and the grassy seats made underneath the boughs. As he goes, his heart thrills, is pulse quickens; he sees Madame Babaroff. Bhe is seated on one of the turf banks, reading, the dog of the house at her feet. He has al- most walked on. to her before he has perceived her. '1 beg your pardon," he mur- murs, and pauses undecided: whe- ther to go or stay. She looks at him a little 'sur- prised at the ceremony of his man ner. 'For what do yon beg my par- don! You are as free of the wood as 1,'" 'she replies, with a smile. '1 promised the children to keep their dogs quiet, and to await' the. 'here. as they return from their chireh."" "You are too good to the chil- dren," says Blanford, still with; re- straint. Her eyes open with in- creased surprise. She has never seen his. manner, usually so 'easy, nonchalant, and unstudied, alter- ed before. "He must have heard bad news," she thinks, but says nothing, and keeps her hook open. Blanford stands néar, silent 'and absorbed. He is musing what worlds he would give, if he had them, to know waether the story is true! He longs passionately to ask her in plain words, but it would be too brutal and too £ not known her long enoug able to presume to do so. He 'watches . the sunshine fall through the larch boughs on to her hands in their loug, loose gloves, and touch the pearls which she al ways wears at her throat. ~~ 'How. very much he is unlike himself I" she, thinks; she misses his 'spontaneous and picturesque eloquence; his 'warm abandon 'of is | manner, his caressing deference of tone. At that moment there is a gleam of white between: a sound of voices in'the Singin Seely The family party are returning from church. "The . jump np and wag their heir tails at and bark their welcome. abe is dashing on in advance. Mrs is an end of their 'brief tete-a-tete;* he regrets the loss ott, thong not sure. of what, he w