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R«vttr la Church. ,'£\V9A n .->anday iziorniiig in o&rly May, A bnsQtJul, sunny, tiiiitft d&y. A:;d alt tbu viUiL^t'. old aud voung. Hid trooped iv church wuou the church bell runs. The witnlowa wtTi' opon. and the breezes Bwect Klutterod the hymn books from scat to scat. ]>en the birds, tn the paleii'fived birch Kautj a.i B rftly as If iu church! Kigbt in the uiidit of tho luiulster's prayer Tliere c^iuut a km>ck ab tlie door. " Who's tht-re, I wonder "' " ttie gray haired taxlon thouylit, An hia careful ear the tapping uau^bt. l:*p rap. rap rapâ€" a lou ter mjiind, The toys un the back st.-atH turuud around. Whattouhl it mean *.' for nover before Had any (»tje knocked at the old church door. Aeain the tapping;, and uow so loud T!ie tnintftiur paused (tu'>ut;h bis head w&m bowed K JUppetv rap' Thi.-* will never do, ThegiiU are peeping, and lauiihiug. too! h.' titf He<(tuti trii>ptMl ovt-r th-* cruAkiug Ilo<jr. Liflti<i the latch, aud opened the door. lu thert* Lrotted a hi« black doji. Ah \tUi as a bear ! With a solemn jog Itight ui' the coutre aiHlu he piicti)re«i. I'c-'pio rniKht Hinrt'. it little nmtterod. htr light ho wi'Ut to a little niaid, IVho tihj,hed aud hiJ, an thout;h afraid. Aid the: - sat down, ad if to .-tiy, ' I'm Horry that I v<aH late to-da Br. yoii :â-  or ho, -uav : oil ki lOW. jtut better late than never, yo J;eside«. > waited ao ho Aud c >uMti't ({at them to open tlie di.>or Till 1 waiigrd ai) tall aud bumped the floor. Now, little miHtrntut, I'm going to Atay, Aud ti^^r what the miniHter han to say." T!ie poor little girl hid her face and cried ' J 'It the big dog neslleil to her uido. Aud kiH/ted her. dog fa^hiou, tenderly, V\njidori-ig what the matter rould be. file doi; biung large laud the Kt'Xtun smalli, He sat thi uugh the sermon and heard it all, A-- »oleuiu and wise as any one there, With a very digtaliod, acholarly air' A .'1 iiiMtead of sc 'Idiug. the miDiater said, A^ he la:d his hand on the sweet child's head Alter tiia aervire, ' I ijevor knew T\.-M bet'. »r liii ners than Uov<ir and you! " - /.i/nr* ittti khuti A mmm misundekstanding iiY ii\RoAnET ciiosnv. " WjU," contioaed BftDford, " Winifred's K '^(K>(1 aeven ye»r older than he is, nod she' B3 well ralc'Uted to take care of lither folk R4 she ) > to take care of her<<elf. None of tlie felluwa round here's been ublo to take her off her own hands yet, and I iiia.^t say I lin't Borry. far she's theliglitof my eye*. " lie paaHcl for a momiat and then added : " \'or l)rother» pretty sick, I reoKon.' ('jlonel lirennan's eyes wandered toward t'lie orchard ai^iiio with a pained expression. 'Still, coauluded Sanford, risint; and I'.ioki.j; 'B the porch the little pile of shav- iiius that had collected at his feet, " if this weather holds he'll ^et better. " He saunti'red iiway lo«ard the barn, still n'hittlin|> as he went. Oolonul Brennan sat motionless, tliiakiiiij deeply His thuaKhti ran nionotouou'ily in a circle, always oomint; back to the humc {loint. What was to be done for Julian ' 'or tho la-it few days he had certainly seomed to be better ; bat before â€" henhul dired as he romembured a week of constant lain and cold weather, when Julian's cough li>id increase! as his strength hii i dJmiulahed, u.ui when ho had looked im- liloriDgly at his brother, as if beseeching a 1 -acue from the death that seemed so near. There was a painfal reali;^ation that all his care and tjnderuess had b<'un inadoi|aat>,' to his brother's needa. Winifred Banford alone had the power to help and intluenoe liim, and Colonel Ureniian had oonie to de- pond upon hur entirely where Julian was concernud. Hhe had tjradually given np all lier tin i to the young fellow, treating him with tho authoritative kindness of an older (lister, which he accepted with an altorna tioii of the petulance of an invalid and a ti:rt of veiled adoration which no one wae K.vare of bat Winifred herself, although shn LctokeuHd no conacioasneas of it. (!olonel Urennan's attitude toward her was curiously characteristic. He felt tho warmest gratitude for her kindness to his brother, and a profound respect for what seemed to him the marvellous tact and kMowled|{a shown in her oare of him. Her Laaat> he barely noticed. The whnlo Iicrsooality of the only woman he had ever oved, the young wife he had lost years before, had been so different, that, with hu single hearted devotion to her memory, admiration fur :i style so unlike was im. possible. He was ill at ease with all women. Lilt lers Bii with this one, who swept the rooms in the morning with her sloeves rolled lip, xhowing her strung white arms, handling the broom with a dexterity tliat Cdinpelled Im "dmiration, even though her less practical i harms did not. His heart Hiiik whon he thought that tho time would Hjoncoiiii' when he and Julian would be alime. Tliu phvsifiiau s orders wore to ro- liirn to New York in a month from tho time of their le»ving there. If .lulian were no better on his return, Klorida was to ha tried an n last resource. " It we could only take Winifred Kanford with ua," thought tlie colonel despairingly : " out iliat would )>H impossible." Some novel idea made the blood lilowly mount to his bron/.ed face. Marriage would make such a thing possi hle'l " Never!" he said aloinl, almoHt llercely. The next thought, following the lirst like lightning, waaâ€" What eacrilice would lie not make for Julian? He started tn his feet ahrnptly, and, taking hia gun, followed in Hanford's footsteps to the barn. In the orchard the still softness of the day seemed to be concentrated. Not a leaf oil the ;narl«d branches of the apple trees Ktirreii a hair's breadth. On the rough grass the great red and yellow apples lay iintiiuehed. Under oni^ of the largeut treea Julian lirennan was seated before his easel, painting intently, now and then speaking to Winifred Hanford who stood before him. Uo had pcsed her by a low sweeping branch, one arm stretched nut, the hand grasping the bough. Uer head was slightly raiaeil in her unsioiiiary inajeBtio poiso, and her eyes looked far away over the valley. Tho ann was low and flickered througli the rust) brown leaves and on her pink dreaa. One Bide of hi^r face was shadowed by the leaves of tho tree, but the other was bathed iq the fnll sunlight. Thia light, which glorified her radiant hoaltli, only served to •ooontuate tho wasting haggardness of the young man. He had grown perceptibly thinner in the last two weeks, but hia face wore a look of deep content. "Yon see that Dickand lalwayalivel apart," Julian wassaying. "Why, I scarcely know him ! When I was a little ohap, two or thrai years old, he lost his wife He was awfully out up by it, and is still, I believe. He went into the army, and after the war, to the West, and only oame back a f iw montha ago, when he heard I was ill. I He's v«ry good to me, bat we haven't much in common ; he doeen't know the difference between an oil. painting and a ohromo, and I dcu't know a gan from a rifle I I believe be almost suffocated in my stadio, and I suppose a week of hia ranch life would kill me. Since my father and mother died I have had rather a lonely life, bat I have always had my paintingâ€" it's been every- thing to me." " And you were poor, too ?" said Wini- fred, interrogatively. "Uh, as far as money is concerned I have always had enough of that; butthatdooan't make a fellow happy. It's useful; it's a means to an end ; bat I have sometimes wished that I had worked hard all my life, as Dick has ; I would have a right to loaf then." He looked up from his easel as he spoke. At the cummencemeDt of hia last speech a singular beaming expression came into Winifrid'a face, transfiguring it out of ita usual catmness. It still lingered as he looked at her. " Keep that expression! " he cried, ecatati- cally. "Kaice your arm a little. Stop. I'll show you." Ho went to her, and placed her arm in the position he desired, touching It reverentially. He went back to nis easel and for a minute painted in silence. Then ha went on in a lower tone than before. " The truth is, since I've been here I've been happier than I ever have been before ; you are so good to me yau are so â€" " Ho paused and drew in his breath with a long inspirat ion, looking at her almost anxiously. Hlie dropped her eyes so that her dark lashes rested on her choeka, and then raised them, meeting his imploring ones com- posedly. "I'm very glad," she said, graciously. "I like to be good to you." She said no more, bat stood passively while he went on painting. This aaporb creature's charm did not lie in conversation ; it was in her beauty, the tone of her caressing voice when she did speak, and the perfect grace and harmony of every action. Whether she was sweep- ing and dusting the room, carrying pails of water with Lucinda, the "help," from the pump to the house, or only standing still, every line and curve was faultless ani rested the eye and spirit of the beholder. 6he had a certain holy. Madonna. like purity and calm which was entirely ex- terior, a natural, physical gift, that had no connection with the inward workings of ht-r mind. That and her character were ») ually eommonplaoc. Although moderately capa- ble and practical, she possessed but two re- markable attributes â€" the power of conceal ing her motives and a perfect appreciation of the value of her beauty. She was keenly aware that thia had not brought her the change in her life that she had obstinat«ly determined upon. There was bnt one road f-ir auccess, marriageâ€" not with one of her clafs, bnt a gentleman. Poverty iu any rank of life bhe secretly despis-^d. It was to be all or nothing for her. The sun sank lower until it touched the hori/oo. Tho air began to grow cooler. "Mr. Brennan," said Winifred, "it's growing late you'd hotter oome in uow." The youth leaned back wearily. All tho enthnsiasm had died out of hia manner. Yes," he said, languidly, " I might as well. I've got that confounded pain in my chest again." He scratini/.ed first his picture, then Winifred. "It's no use trying to paint you ! I want Tyrian dye to mix with black for your hair, and the trana- parency of that sky for your skin." Ue (lamed up agaiu with these words. Winifrid gitthered upthenasel and paint- ing materials, aud atood waiting for Julian to move. He got np slowly. " Jnat walk to the edge of the bank with me first." ho said; "there's going to be a sunset ! " Winifred walked slowly to the outside of the orchard. Julian watched her with a dawning snrpriuo in his face. " Aren't you going to give mo your arm ?" ho said, boyinhly. " I'm not so uncoiii- innnly strong ail at onoe." Hhe came bauk to him and he took her itrm, leaning on it as tliev walked slowly away. The u.iattct v.itli her strong, iresli vitality seemed to give him strength, for he walked mors steadily. When they reached tho rapidly sloping gronnd they pauaed. The valley was bathed in a golden ha/.o, as if tho sun waa shining throngh an atmosphere of powdered gold-dust. The lake lay like a plate of burnished brass. While they waited the sun Bank out of sight, and the brilliancy faded from the landscape. .\t the hori/.on was tho iiii nioaanrable golden distance that remains when the sun sets in a clear sky. " Look I" cried Julian, pointing to it. " Waa there ever anything so beautiful ?" Tho excitable young fellow was on firn for the moment. " Uiiakin calls it tho type of lutlnity. There isn't a doubt but that the aky, day and nigli'. shuts us in, like a great ' inverted bowl.' One can even see the end of the ocean where its meets tho hori/.on, but that light gooa on and on. It's like aeeing all tho way throughspaoe!" Winifred underBtood not a word of thia â€" therefore remained silent. Julian looked at her, but she turned away with Booming aliyncaa. I''or the lirat time since he had known her her manner lost its air of con- fident protection. " I think wo might na well go back to tho house," sho said. "I heard mother call- ing me just now." Her shyneaa communi- cated itself to Julian. He still loaned on her arm as they walked back to the house, liiit did not speak to her. " How good you ore to me," ho said, Buddenly. " What should I have done without yon these weeks? I suppose you deppise a fellow who is such a brokou-duwn wreck aa lam.'" Ua watched her narrowly as he spoke. "I don't see why that should make any differenio," she answered. "You are aa much of a man, oven if you are not strong." Something in her words seemed to give him the deepest pleasure. " Thank you I " he said, with proud grati- tude, " 1 aha'n't forgot those words." " When are yon going away from here? " she asked, irrelevantly. " I -Idon't knowexactly,"heataminere[l, his face falling. "I believo that Dick ia under orders to take me ,ofT in two weeks. You don't want me to go, I hope," he added, with an uneasy laugh. "No," she replied, simply. "Winter's coming on, aud it'a lonely here then." His face Unshod deeply. " Wonld yon, could yon, imagine such a thing â€" " no began impetuously. The words died on his lips as Colonel Brennan ciimo rapidly toward them from the house. " Why, Julian I " he oxoUimed, *'do ;oa mean to My you're only ooming in now? " He came to the side where Winifred was not, and drew Julian's arm affectionately through his. " Ought yoa to let the boy stay out so late, Miaa Sanford?" Head- dressed her with respectful deference. Julian looked from Winifred to his brother. " Uow well you two people take care of me," be said. The worda chimed in with Colonel Brennan'tf tbougbts and gave them a fresh impulse in the direction which they had taken. " You think so, do you, my boy," he re- plied, gently. CHAPTER III. It was evening in the little parlor of the farm. house. A kerosene-lamp gave its nn- eijuivocal light from the high mantel where it stood. The braaa knobs of the red- paint- ed capboarda and the flashes of the gor- geous wall-paper shone brightly in its light. 'Phere was another lamp on the table where Colonel lirennan and Sanford sat, with a checker- board between them. Sanford, clad as usual in a crumpled linen daater, was engrossed in the game. Ue considered profoundly before each move. If hia play was successful, he would cast a triumphant look at Colonel Brennan; if it was not, he drew in big breath, rubbed hia head, and frowned. Colonel Brennan played seriously, but absently, with the air of a man whose mind waa occupied with other thoughts. In a corner eat Mra. Sanford, regarding them with vacant admiration. Aa Wini- fred came into the room by a side-door, a moment later, her mother turned toward her, and, pointing to the players, said in a loud whisper, "Now, ain't they a picter? The young man's gone to bed, and he said he didn't want no beef' tea, so you can go a\) as soon aa you want, Winifred." Her daughter did not reply, but seated herself by the fireplace, looking medi- tatively at Colonel Brennan. Buddenly her father struck the table sharply with hia tist. " There now, colonel, I've got you!" Ua swept Colonel firennau'a last two men from the board with an air of triumph. " And 'twas as much of a miracle as one of them in Scripture, for I had the odds all against me." "'6h, now, Mr. Sanford," iaterposed his wife, reprovingly. " Vea, It was; for 1 couldn't explain how I did 11," he answered, argumentatively. " Now, every one of them miracles in Scripture can be explained on scientific grounds. I've explained some myself. Look at Elijah, going up in the fiery chariot â€" tweren't nothing but a fire balloon !" " Mr. Sanford, I'm going to bed. Air yoa eomin' ?" said hia wife, conclusively. " Well, I'm thinkin' some of it uow," be replied, humoroualy. As they stumbled through the dark hall, Mra. Hanford remarked, abruptly : " I declare to goodness, ef I don't think Winifred Sanford could have that man ef she wanted to, and yet she's takin' up with the young one. It passes belief what she wants, bat she always ictu queer." Sanford was behind her, and only caught her daughter's name. "What's that about Winifred?" ho asked. •• Nolhin,' Mr. Sanford, I was juat apecu latin' on the ijuoernessof some fulk.i." After their departure Colonel Brennan walked to the mantel and leaned against it, gravely regarding Winifred. Ue had given thiu young woman, of late, a great deal of silent, serious observation. " How do yoa think the boy ia, Miaa Saiifurd?" he begtn, awkwardly. 114 uHually spoke of hia brother in thia way. It was part of his unconscioua feel. ing for what seemed to be Julian's extreme youtii. " I think ho ia better." " You are very kind to him." She dropped her eyes slightly. " Oh 1 it ia a pleasure." " 1 really think that you have an in- fluence over him that no one else has." He seemed to battle with hia embarraS'i- iiiei.t. "I know nn one lu ulijiii I am under such obligations aa I am to you. Miss Sanford, or for whom I feel a defp3r res- pect. Iâ€" I have never had a woman for a friend. Living a rough, hard-working Western life, I have been cut off from women'a society ; but I should like, with your permission, to consideryou my friend" â€" these words were uttered with a direct eincerity that took the edge off his shyness â€" " that we might" â€" ho paused for an in- Ht ant, aa if seeking the right words in which to express himself -" that we might aot in concert, aa it wore." A woman of the world mi^ht have been |iuz/.led to know exactly what to reply to BU h a speech ; but Winifred's power of divination and her experience weru both meagre enough to give her no difficulty iu answering. She always knew enough not to ccimniit herself unless she choaoto do it, and the objeot waa very plain. Uer lipa parted in their e.\i|uiaito smile. "Why, yea; I'll be your friend, of course." I heao words seemed to satisfy Colonel Dronnan. Winifred moved toward the door, but stopped before going oat. " Your brother's cough is better, bat he's very weak," she said. C'olonol Brennan paled a little under his tanned skin. " Then yon aee that, too? He mutt get strongerâ€" I'd give iny life to save the boy." Ue spoke with fervent energy. The young woman received this with one of her sympathetiosilencea, which might be construed as one pleased. The next mo- ment she waa gone. CUAITKU IV. Julian's portrait of Winifred Sanford was flniahed. Ue felt it to be the beat thing he had ever dor.e, and yet he did not care to have any onu see it juat yet ; an in- explicable feeling, even to himself. His brother had gone out shooting that after- noon, and had not yet returned, which furthered him in the indulgence of his fancy. He carried it to his room, and, leaving it there, turned the key in the door, and p 't it in hia pocket. Thia nnnEual exertion told on him; but the sunny warmth of the day drew him into the open air. He walked alowly and feebly across thoorohard to a i|aiet meadow where the hay- stacks still stood, drying for the winter. Throwing himself on the loosened hay at the bottom of one of the largest stacks, he lay watching the little clouds that drifted across the aky. A sort of rapture of content posaesaed him. With hia thoughts of the future the thought of Winifred Sanford was iiiextrioably mingled. It isemed as natural to lore her aa to breathe. She was as necessary to him as the air he lived in. The differ- ence in their ages canaed him no uneasi- ness. It waa something he had never realized. Be thought vaguely that bis brother would be surprised when h» knew all he hoped; bat with all Colonel Brennan's uuconsciouaiieaa of her beaaty and charm, and his romantic devotion to his first love, Julian thought that he must feel what seemed to bim Winifred's perfection and, that his happiness would be a happinesa to bis brother. Aa be lay there be became aware of a preaenoe near by. Winifred Sanford moved slowly across the grass toward bim, and atood looking down at him. He tried to get np, but she motioned him to keep bis position, and sat down beside him, leaning against the hay-stack. Be raised himaelf on his elbow and watched her in that position. She wore a large straw hat, tied down with a pale flowered ribbon. 'There waa less of majesty and more of yielding tenderness in her beaaty than aaual. " What did you do with my picture ?" she asked ; " mother wants to aee it." "Not yet," he answered, pleadingly. " In a day or ho 1 will." " Y'ou paint very well," she said. "It'a the best thing I've ever done. It isn't any wonder â€" you've inspired me. I've planned a dozen pictures since I've lain here. You will see how my pictures will sell now." She regarded bim seriously with her shadowy eyea. " Why do you sell your pictures when you are rich?" she aakcKl. A slight shadow crossed Julian's face. " I wonder what put that into your head ? I have hardly a cent in the world beyond what Dick gives me. Dick has all the money ; he's made nn end of money in the West, and although he's been very generous to me I can't expect to live on him always. It's quite possible that some day he might want to marry again. I have my profes- sion ; I shouldn't be quite grovellingly poor withont Dick, but I shall never be rioh." Winifred listened attentively, but with- out any change of expression. The shadow passed from Julian's face as he watched her. She seemed by reason of her exquisite serenity to be raised above the considera- tion of such accidents as poverty or wealth. Julian leaned toward her. " Winifred!" be almost whispered. A loud voice broke the silence. " Winifred I " called old Sanford from the orchard, " your ma says please come to the house directly ; and it's my advioe, Mr. Brennao, that you come in shortly. Weather's changing, and there's going to be a tempest pretty soon, or my name ain't Uezekiah Sanford." Winifred atood np. "Don't go 1 I bog yon," said Julian ardently; "I want to apeak to you. I have something to say to you." He rose aUo.and caught one of her hands in both hia, with a rapid, involuntary movement. She quietly drew her hand away. " I must go now." " Tell me that I may hope I " he cried. She smiled vaguely. "If you like to hope, you may." With these words she left him. Ue did not attempt to follow her, but atood watch- ing her, with all the hope aud passion of a fiist lovo in his young face. He flung him- aelf on the ground again, with an inartic- ulate murmur. The slight breeze died away entirely, and the air became oppressively still. In the almost suffocating quietness Julian's conf uHed thonghts became vague and peace- ful. Ue lay bathed in dreamlike expectancy for a long time, while the aky darkened with leaden clouds, and the twilight fell rapidly. The wind rose, blowing in fitful gusts, then sinking into stillness once more. When Colonel Brennan came in from shooting, it was already quite dark, and one or two great drops of rain fell as he reached the farm-house. Mrs. Sanford stood on the poroh watching the coming storm with a soared face. " How is Julian 7" he asked, anxiously. " Now don't you worry -he's all right!" ahc ejiolaimed. " I aee him go up to his room awhile ago, before the storm came op, aud just now, when I went up there to see what I wuuld make him for his supper, hia door waa locked, so I didn't disturb him. I thought likely he was resting. Winifred was askin' me juat now, too, and I told her I never Hee anything like the way you two folka take on about that boy." ('uloiiel Brennan's face lost ita anxious look. He followed Mrs. Sanford into the aitting-room. "Will you tell your daughter that I would like to opeak to her for a few minutes, if she will come here," he said; " I shall consider it a favor." Somethinij in his grave manner seemed to impress Mra. Sanford. "Oh, the awful!" she said abruptly; "yes, I'll tall her." She lighted tho lamp on the table, and precipitately left the room. With tho first violent shower of rain Julian roused himself, chilled and startled. Ilia first sensation was one of profound loneliness. This feeling deepened as he struggled witli diSionlty, almost blinded by the bluata of wind and rain, toward the farm-house, guided in the darkness by the lights in Ihe windows. As he neared it there waa no aign of any nueasineaa or aearcti for him. He heard Mra. Sanford'a voice in the kitchen, in cheerful conversa tion with Luoinda. At length ho reached the house and leaned against the frame of one of the parlor windows, unable to go farther, his heart beat violently from ex- haustion. The shutters wero closed, but through the slats he saw into the brightly, lighted room. By the table stood his brother and Winifred Sanford. He could see both their faoes, and in spite of the roar of the wind, their words reached him distinctly through the opou window. " I can't give yon my first love," his brother waa saying. " [ suppose that is over for both of us, but I oau give you a loyal affection and trust. I will do all in my power to make you happy. This ia not said to intluonoe you â€" I know that it could notâ€" but everything that money can do to make your life a pleasant and easy one shall bo done. What do you say?" Ue waited gravely for her answer. A triumphant smile oame over Winitred'a faoe. " I say yes," she answered firmly, look, lug straight into his eyes. Colond Brennan took one of her hands in his, and, bending down, kiaaed it, not tenderly, but gratefully. " Yoa have made me very happy, aad now you muat help me make Julian happy," he aaid. At these worda Winifred turned her head slightly aside, but her smile lost none of ita triumph. As be listened the life seemed to go oat of Julian's body, and to rush back with in- dignant strength. Ue staggered away from the window, and rushed blindly through the darkness, not knowing where he went. The fary of the storm waa an outlet for the burning grief and diamay that panted within bim. Oe had reached Ihe outskirts of the wood beyond the hay -field, when hia momentary strength auddenly left him. He dung hia arma up, with a loud groan, which was caught by the wind and whirled away, almost before it was uttered, and stumblin;,-, he fell heavily, striking his head against the gnarled trunk of a tree. He lay motionless, while the storm raged over him. The volume of steadily descending rain seemed limitless. The minutes lengthened into hours before the blasts of wind and rain had spent their atrengtb. They gradually decreased until there waa aileacc, except when a soft shiver of wind in the branches of Ihe treea caused a quick patter of rain-drops on the dead leaves which covered the ground. The moon pierced through the trees, touching with her pale light the dark shadow under them that still lay motion- less. With the moonlight came voices, bat there was no answering voice to guide them to him whom they sought. • • • The next day Colonel Brennan sat by hia brother's bed, where the young man lay, a mere shadow of life. Since they had found him the night before, he had lain thus â€" still, white, unconscious. After one glance, the doctor, who had been sum- moned in haste from the village, had told them that be was dying. The reasons that he gave were many and conclusive, bnt to Colonel Brennan the one inevitable fact was sufficient. The strong man leaned over Julian in helpless Agony. "Julian!" be implored, " what does it mean? I can't understand it! Dcn't leave me. I was going to make yoa ao happy. Speak to me only once ! " Kor a moment there was only sUenoa. The bright afternoon sunlight filled tha room as Julian's eyes opened slowly, as if atirred from bis lethargy by hit brother's penetrating appeal. Winifred Sanford'a portrait, standing on the mantel opposite, was the first thing tha young man's eyes rested upon. Warm and glowing in the mellow light, to bis numbed aeuses it was noaemblauoe, butanexquisita reality. He bold out hia banda with momentary strength and passion. " Winifred, Wiyiifrtd â€" / loit you ! " ha murmured. Then hia eyea cloaed again. Colonel Brennan caught the words. Hia face became while. "Uh God!" was forced from his Upa. " It can't be that Julian! â€" it can't be " At these words Julian's eyes opened again, and this time there was a singo- larly lucid expression in their depthsâ€"* look of full recollection and intelligence. " It's just aa well that I'm going, dasr old fellow," he murmured. "It has all been a niialake." He relapaed into unconaoioasnesa and in the night passed ijuielly out of life. " • • • Two weeks later, Itichard Brennan and Winifred Sauford were married at the little MetbodiatChurch of Oranfield. They wero to go to New York immediately after their marriage, and from there to sail for Europe. Winifred looked supremely con- tent, but Colonel Brennan wore a baffled, haggard air. Hia manner to his wife waa kind, but he seemed to shrink from the congratulations of those of the Sanforda' friends who came to the wedding, filled with fluttering curiosity. As Mr. and Mrs. Sanford drove home in the two-seated waggon, after parting with their daughter, Mr. Sanford said, with a rueful sigh: " Winifred's quiet, maybe, but it'a goin' to be a long sight quieter without her." " His brother's dead, but that ain't all," Mra. Sanford replied, with more than her usual irrelevancy. " Winifred'!! get on anyhow ! She's quiet all tho way throngh ; she dsn't ff,'l much. Sh* has made a rise and no mistake; but I dunuo as I ever see a bridegroom look aa tnortal initerable aa that one did to day." THK END. « i The Htyle iu Xquare Hlionlders. Fashionable girls in New York are apparently gone daft on the question ot square shoulders, .\nything to equal the pose which young women now affeot in their tight-fitting oostumoe, wlien they occasionally trip into town from Newport, Narraganaot or other towns ia difficult to imagine. While they are on their feet they are beautiful to look upon and beyond oriticism or cavil. It ia when they are seated that the great and glaring flaw of the prtuent artificial and fashionable construction ot the American young girl becomes evident. While they succeed in holding their shouldora back, it ia impoa- aible to keep the neck at the same angle, when seated, unless their faces are held at tho same level aa the floor. Hence their heads nooessarily droop forward, leaving a long and noticeable distance between the neck and the back of the high collars. It gives the efTect of cutthroat suffering. But t ia remedied when the girl leans forward again or rises to her feet. Then everything fita in with the correct and ahapely beaaty that is the aecond nature of America's most beautiful and famous product. â€" New York Suti. Hirae New Dances. Three now dances were introduoed at tha Dancing Masters' Convention hold in New Y'ork city thia week. The dances areoalled the " glide mazurka," introduoed by Vrof. A. M. Lomas, the "diamond lanofers," and " the Berlin," by Prof. Pitt Kivers. The only difference between the " glide mazurka " and the old dance of that name is that the waltz ia subatitutedfor the polka step. The effect ia graceful, but the "glide" in this respect will not be without ita uaoal complioations, sometimes peculiar, and oft times disastrous. The " diamond lauoiers " is facile and graceful, and ia destined to become very popular. " The Berlin" po»- aessea a alow, graoefnl polka movement which can be converted into a waits, • alop or a sohottisohe.