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Everything was arranged for Ronald's de artnre by the night mail from Green- field. the nearest station to Earlescourt. He took with him neither horses nor as: vants; even his valet. Morton. was left benind. " My lady” was ill,and shut up in her room all day. Valentine Charteris sat alone in the drawing room when Ronald came in to bid her farewell. She was amazed at the unhappy termination of the interview. She would have gone instantly to Lord Earle. but Ronald told her it was useless- no prayers. no pleadings could change his determination. As Ronald stood there. looking into "nlnnO‘nn’a LAAIQI:‘--' I- _ _ As Ronald stood there. looking 'into Valentine's beautiful hoe, he remembered his mother‘s words, that she cared for him M she cared for no other. Could it be ponible that this magnificent girl, with her __ W '_ vuv- Earleacourt was full of hustle and ao~ tivity. The young heir was leaving suddenly; boxes and trunks had to be packed. He did not say where he was going; indeed. those who helped him said afterward that his face was fixed and pale. and that he moved about like one in a dream. lii When Lad Earle awoke to the con- soiousness of {or misery. her son had left her. No one would have called Lord Earle hard or stern who saw him clasp his weep- ing wife in his arms, and console her by every hind a‘ndjender word he could utter. “Go" said he. calmly ; “do not let your mother find you here when she recovers." He never forgot the pleading of those sorrowful eyes. the anguish of the brave young face, as Ronald turned from him and left the room. "Father',"cri;d Ronald, with tears in his eyes, “ say one kind word, touch my hand once again." “ No." said Lord Earle, turning from the outstretched hand. “ That is not the hand of an honorable man; I cannot hold it in my own." Then Ronald bent down to kiss his mother; her face was white and still, she was not conscious of his tears or his pas- sionate pleading. Lord Earle raised her can see you under any root save mine. Now, farewell; the sunshine, the hope, the happiness of my life go with you. but I shall keep my word. See my solicitor, Mr. Burt, about your money. and he will sr- range eyerythingjnlny plsoel’ “ Mother," cried the unhappy youth, “ plead for me!” “ It is useless," to lied his father ; “ your choice has been me. e deliberately. I am not cruel. If youwrite to me I shall return your letters unoppened. I shall refuse to see or hear from you, or to allow you to come near Esrlesoourt; but you can write to your motherâ€"l do non forbid that. She “ You cannot mean it, father I” cried Ronald. “ Send me from youâ€"punish me â€"I deserve it; but let me see you again." " Never in life,” said Lord Earle, calmly. “ Remember when you see me lying dead that death itself was less bitter than the hour in which I learned that you had de- ceived me." > (By the author of "Madeline's Lover.") ” We will end this scene," said Lord Earle. turning from his unhappy wife, who was weeping passionately. “Look at your mother, Ronald; kiss her for the last time and go from her ; bear with you the memory of her love and of her tenderness, and of how you repaid them. Take your last look at me. I have loved youâ€"I have been proud of you, hopeful for you; now I dis- miss you from my resence, unworthy son of a noble race. T a same roof will never shelter usagsin. Make what arrangements you will. You have some little fortune; it must maintain you. I will never contri- bute one farthing to the support of my lodge- kesper’s daughter. Go where youlikeâ€"do as you like. You have chosen your own path. Some day you must return to Earlescourt as its master. I thank Heaven it will be when the degradation of my home and the dishonor of my race cannot touch me. Go now ; I shall expect you to have quitted the Hall'before to-morrow morning.” 7*- -v ._v ._.~..-. I, my.vuun He's Eli“: Mtge of ”all Mac'sâ€"that's beyond all s u From Blfileré o' Buchan to the Island of Bute, From Ultima Thule on the south to St.Abb. Broad Scotland exults in the Loud o' McNab. fivuq .._-_ â€"-â€"vv my nvngu'u; gut Mab. Who granted the same to the Laird o' McNab. He's the Mac 0! all Mao'sâ€"that's bevnnd “7â€"-..v --_.. ...... nu uuw utuv U MoNab :' Where lie his possessions, so fertile and {sir -2 In the Island of Skye and the County of Ayr, Their heritage. held since the reign, of Queen "hh .._-_ ..-_ ., manual-um, umuuu uuu aqu it“; Let thfia Igorder Buocleuoh vaunt his doughty dad c There were hundreds like himâ€"in tho line 0' Ir-\v_Ln You wish ffirâ€"‘fl """v'" """' M"lav Wu.“ He can dance like a bear, he can drink like a He can snacks. he can mud, and of fiigtail a dab Ever soaks in the delicate cheek of oNab. The Laird o' McNab and the Laird o’ McNieh Sat down once to drink like a couyle 0' fish. But flat on the floor fell MoNiah l ke a swab. While sober's :qjudge eat the Laird o' McNab! MoNab before oah tracks six score of sires, Counts k‘in with dukes, marquises, barons and Vfi, .-_, â€"-â€"â€"v "I...“ anus-v around; He‘s 3. lift (or a. craneâ€"he's a. load for a cab. The broad. brawny fellowâ€"the Laird o' McNab. For ”commits-13111011“, ladies, what more could coma} or addi'b’ut'fitgh‘yfi SEE "" The brawn Moaregor. axed-heeded Rub, Au intent, 11 feet, to the Leird o' McNeb. His e 0 would set lire to the Thames or the see; His 0 ly voice wile the wild bird item the tree: For the eloquent eye and the gilt o' the ab. There ne’er won the like 0' the Laird o’ oNsb. No chief of Glen Alpine hath ever am ed A figure so ill: {or the plume and the p eid' E’en in wsterBroof beaver, and doublet of drubâ€" Irresistibie It i is the Laird o' MoNah! Whenever he treads there's a. groan from the ound. When e dances the very stone walls shake ._,.._._J . The big [ti-1151mm wu slender Qnd sum, gpmm of CI but a. pismy to him iboui; Fox a. how I. Greekâ€"tor u: heiress a Bus _yo_u never baud tell 0' the The Bird 0‘ MoNsbâ€"he ll stalwart and stout, Ho'l giggonder and vulo o' the land round in ?’ LOVERS YET. The but“ 0’ RICH-5. “ And you are quite sure,” said Dore. " that you will never repent marrying me ? ” “ No. again.” was the reply. ” You are the crowning joy of my life.” Two long bright years had passed away before Ronald began to perceive that he could educate his pretty young wife no "No, a thousand times no.”he:would say; he loved Dora. better in her artless simplicity than he could have loved the cievoreqt woman in all the .world l Despite his father's angzrfiand his , mother’s sorrow, despite his poverty and loss of position, Ronald for some months was very happy with his young wife. It was so pleasant to teach Dora, towateh her sweet dimpled face and the dark eyes grow larger with wonder, to hear her simple naive remarks, her original ideas, to see her pretty artless ways; above all it was pleasant to be so dearly loved. He often thought that there never had been, never could be, a wife so lovin as Dora. He could not teach her much, a though he tried hard. She sang simple little ballads sweetly andelearly; but although master after master tried his best, she could never be taught to playâ€"not even so much as the easy accompaniments of her own songs. Ronald hoped that with time and attention she would be able‘to sketch, but Dora never managedit. Obediently enough she took enciland paper in her hands and tried, ut the strokes would never come straight. Sometimes the drawing she made resembled something so comical that both she and Ronald laughed heartily; while the con- sciousness of her own inferiority grieved her, and large bright tears wouldfrequently fall upon the pa er. Then Ronald would take the penoi away. and Dora would cling round his neck and ask him if he would not have been happier with a eleverer wife. The first news that came to the villa. on the banks of the Arno was that Step hen Theme and his wife had left the lodgep and taken a small farm somewhere in the county of Kent. Lady Earle had found them the means, and they had left without one word from Lord Earle. He never even ashed vyhithenthey had gone. sea. Man'y dark fore-bodinga hauntedrthég; but it was too late for advice and inter- ference now. The éood lodge-keeper and his wife parted from Doro. with many tears. She was never to brighten their pretty home with her sweet face and gay voice. She was going a_wo._y to etgange lends over the Ronald laughed at the idea. that he should ever tire of Dora. How little these prosaic, cogmonpluge pepple knew of love! ‘ “ I am sorry for it.” said Stephen. “ No good will ever come of such an unequal match. My girl had better have stayed at home, or married the young farmer who loved her. The distance between you is too great, Mr. Earle, and I fear me you will find it out." ' Ronald’s arrangements were soon made. He sent for Stephen Thorne and his wife, and told them how and when he had mar- ried Dora. Yet strange to say, when Ronald told his pretty, weeping wife all that happened, he made no mention of Valentine Uharterieâ€" he did not even utter her name. She wbuld love; him all the more, she said. She must love him enough to make up __fo_r home, and every_oue glee. 7 CHAPTER IX In a small pretty villa, on the banks of the Arno, Ronald Earle established him- self with his young wife. He had gone direct to Eastham,after leaving Earlescourt, his heart aching with sorrow for home and all that he had left there, and beating high ‘with joy at the thought that now nothing stood between him and Dora. He told her of the quarrelâ€"of his father's stern words ; ‘ and Dora as he had foreseen, clung round hisneck, a_n_d_wept: _ Many lovers sighed round Valentine. One after another she dismissed them. She was waiting until she saw some one like Ronald Earleâ€"like him in all things save the weakness which had so fatally shadowed his life. I L'ady Earle said nothing of the trouble that had fallen upon her. She hoped against hope that the time would come when her husband would pardon their only son. Valentine Charteris bore her disappointment well. She never forgot the simple chivalroue man who had clung to her friendship and relied so vainly upon her influence I As days and months passed by. and the young heir did not return, wonder and surprise reigned at Earlesconrt. Lord Earle never mentioned his son's name. People said he had gone abroad, and was living somewhere in Italy. To Lord Earle, it seemed that his life was ended ; he had no further hope; he formed no further plans; ambition died away; the grand purpose of his lite would never be fulfilled. The next day Lady Charteris and her daughter left Earlesoourt. Lord Earle gave no signs of the heavy blow which had struck him. He was their attentive host while they remained ; he escorted them to their carriage. and parted from them with smilin words. He went back to the house where e was never more to hear the sound of the_voice he loved_best on earth, areâ€"no listened t6 every sodhd: "dud heaEd the door close behind his son as he would huge heard his own death-knell As he left his home in the quiet atarlit night, Ronald little thought that, while his mother lay weeping as though her heart would break, a. beautiful face, wet with bitter tears, watched him from one of the upper__windo_ws, and his father shut up -7 - _ _‘--_. Her heart yearned tohimâ€"so young. so simple,sobrnve. She longed to tell him how much she admired himâ€"how she wanted to help him. and would be his lriend while she lived. But Miss Charteris rsrel yielded to any emotion; she laid her hen in his and said. “ Good-bye. Ronaldâ€"God bless you. Be breve; it is not one great deed that makes a hero. The man who bears trouble well is the greatest hero of a" " “I shall go to my wife st once," he re- plied. “ an take her sbrosd. Do not look so pained and grieved for me. Miss Cher- terisâ€"I must do the best I can. If my income Will not support me. I must work ; a. few months' study will make me a toler- able artist. Do not forget my mother. Valentine; and bid ‘me : God speed.’ " lurene. noenly dignity y. loved him? She lookedd trouodhy his sorrow. When he spoke of his mother. and she saw the a" ivering lips he vainly tried to still. tom ed her 0 on. “Where. all on go," she asked. “and who} nhgll you 0?” “61613330233333“: visit of Ronald and Don. to the Countess Rosa", poor Countess Rosali gathered around her the clue of Florentine society; she selected her friends and aoquaintances as carefully as she selected her dresses, jewels, and flowers. She refused to know " bores " and " no- bodies;” her lady friends must be pretty, piquant, or fashionable; any entleman ad- ‘mitted into her charmed ciro e must have enius. wit. or talent to recommend him. hou h grave matrons shook their heads and ooked prudish when the Countess Rosali was mentioned. yet to belong to her set was to receive the " stamp of ashon." No day Passed without some amusement at the vi laâ€"picnio, exonrsionmoirrc. dance. or, what its fair mistress preferred. private theatricals and oharades. CHAPTER X. Going into society increased the expenses which Ronald and his wife already found heavy enough. There were times when the mono received from the sale of his ictures ailed in liquidating bills; then onald grew anxious, and Dora not knowing what better to do. we t, and blamed her- self for all the troub o. It was a relief then to leave the home over which the clouds lowered, and seek the gay villa,‘ where something pleasant and amusing was always going on. The countess did not rest until Ronald had been introduced to her, and then she would know his wife. Her grave, silent husband smiled at her evident admiration of the handsome young Englishman. She liked his clear, Saxon face and fair hair; she liked his simple kindly manner, so full 1of chivalry and truth. She liked pretty ‘ Dora too ; but there were times when the dainty, fastidious countess looked at the young wife in wonder. for, as she said one evening to her husband, "There is some- thin in Mrs. Thorne that puzzles me-- she oes not always speak or look like 1: III“! " Few days passed without bringing Ronald and Doro. to the villa. Rosali. It would have been better for Ronald had he never lAeft his pretty home on the banks of the mo. lady.‘ “Whoever painteta tliat,” agivélflthe fair countess, “loves flowers, and knows what qulish flowers mean.” 3 The fair dainty lady had a great desire tosee Mr. Thorne. She had seen one of his pictures at the house of one of her friendsâ€"a simple little thing, but it had charmed her. It was merely a bouquet of English wild flowers ; but then they were so naturally Eaintedl The blue-bells looked as though t ey had just been gathered. One almost fancied dewdrops on the deli- oate wild roses; aspray of pinkhawthorne, daisies. and golden buttercups. mingled with woodbine and meadow-sweet, told swee‘tflstories of English meadows. No one in Florence was half so popular as the fair countess. Amongst the dark glowing beauties of sunny Italy she was like a bright sunbeam. Her fair, piquant face was charming from its delicate bright coloring and gay smiles; her hair, of the rare color painted by the old masters, yet so seldom seen, was of a pure golden hue, looking always as though the sun shone upon it_. > Amongst those who eagerly sought Ronald's society was the pretty coquette, the Countess Roseli, an English lady who had married the Count Rosali, eFlorentine noble of greatjvealth. 150m did hot like the change ;J éhe felt, lonely and lost where Ronald was so pop- ular and so much at home. Ronald steadily refused to entertain the idea. He wondered at modern ideas of honorâ€"that men saw no shame in borrow- ing upon the lives of their nearest and dearest, yet thought it a disgrace to be a follower of one of the grandest of arts. He made one compromiseâ€"that was for his father’s sake. As an artist. he was known by Dora’s name of Theme, and, before long, Ronald Thorne’s pictures were in great re- quest. There was no dash of genius about them; but they were careful studies. ‘ Some few were sold, and the price realized proved no unwelcome additlon to a small income. 'Ronald became known in Florence. People who had not thought much of Mr. Earle were eager to know the clever artist and his pretty, shy wife. Then the trial of Ronald Earle began in earnest. Had he lived always away from the world, out of society, the chances are that his fate would have been different; but invitations began to pour in upon him and Dora, and Ronald, half tired of his solitude, although he never suspected it, accepted then} eagerly. A “7 Why hot go to ma Jews? " asked fash- ionable young men. “ Earlesoourt must be yours some day. You can borrow mgpey 1f_ you like." A Ronald gave himself up to the study of painting. Aprétty little studio was built, and Dora s out long hours in admiring both her husgand and his work. He gave promise of being some day a good artistâ€" not a genius. The world would never rave about his pictures; but in time he would be a conscientious, painstaking artist. Among his small caterie of friends some approved, others laughed. -7 1 In this, the 'third year of his married life. Ronald began to feel the pressure of poverty. Hisinoome was not more than three hundred a. year; to Dors this seemed boundless riches; but the heir of Ear-les- oourt had spent more in dress and cigars. Now debts began to press upon him; writing home he knew was useless. He would not ask Lady Earle. although he knew that she would have parted with the last jewel in her case for him. The third year of their married life dawn- ed; Dora was just 20, Ronald 23. There had been no rejoicing when he had attained ghie majority ; it assed over unnoticed and unremarked. ewe came to them from England, letters from thelittle farm in Kent, telling of simple home intelligence, and letters from Lady Earle, always and and stained with tears. She had no good news to tell them. Lord Earle was well, but he would never allow his son's name to be mentioned before him. and she lon ed to see her son. In all her letters Lady arle said. ‘fGive my love to Dora._"_ _ 'further. She was a strange mixture 01 Hanorance and uncultivated poetry. she could speak well; her voice was sweet. her acoent.caught trom;him,good ; alone he never noticed an deficiencies, but it he met an English friend in Florence and brought him home to dine. than Ronald began to wish that Dora would leave of! blushing and grow lose sh . that she could talka‘ little more, and t at he might lose all tear other making some terrible blunder. _ They entered the long gallery, where some of the finest ictnres in Italy were ‘hnn . The Prince ed the ludies to the scat ern end. Valentine see before her a magnificent aimingâ€"tell forest trees, whose thick ranches were interwoven. every green lest distinct and clear; she saw the mellow light that fell through them, theimilk-white,’ sllreyandjewelle harness, the handsome night who rode near; and then she saw her own lace. bright. smiling, glowing with beauty, bright in innocence, Prince Borgezi smiled. thibking how much of the fair coquotte‘s . admiration went totho artist’s talent, and how much to his handsome face. “ Certainly; I never tire of flu“ ‘ Guine~ vere ’ never weary of the artist's triumph, for heie one of the most velu d of my friends.” tion. “Nothin " she-said, i-fivb‘h‘lli ph’ase her better;"an as the Countess Resilii stood near. the prince included her in ti o invita- When the Prince had received his guest, and danced once with Miss Charter '3, he asked her if she would like to me his celebrated picture. the “Guinevere," who‘ae ‘9'?“ wee epreeding feet: _ I The countess was in dangerâ€"a f rer, brighter star had arisen. Valentine hat. teris was the belle of the most bri liant balliever given in Florence. ' Ronald had received an invitation. but ‘was prevented from attending. All the elite of Florence were there. and great was the excitement when Countess Rosali entered the ball-room with an exceeding] beautiful womanâ€"a. ueenly blondeâ€"the lady about whom all ‘lorence was inter estedâ€"an English heiress, clever as sh e was fair. speaking French with court y gracemnd Italian with fluent skill; at d when the Prince stood before her, he 1 e- oognized in one moment the original of ‘ is famous "Guinevere" The iotnre w‘ae hung in the gallery of the pa ace, and the Prince di Borgezi became one of Ronald’s best patrons. The Prince gave a. grand ball in honor of a. beautiful English lady, who with her family had just arrived in Florence. Countess Roeali raved about her. wisely making a friend where any one else would have feared a rival. ' " Queen Guinevere " was a success far beyond Ronald’s dearest hopes. Artists and amateurs, connoisseurs of all ranks and degrees, were delighted with it. The great charm of the picture was the lovely young face. “ Whom was it like? ” " Where had he found his model?" “ Was ever any women so perfectly beautiful?” Such were the questions that people seemed neler tired of repeating. _ With renewed energy Ronald set to work. Every feature of that perfect face was engraved upon his mind. He made sketch after sketch, until, in its serene, sweet loveliness, Valentine's face smiled upon 1m. Standing one day where the sunbeams fell lightly through the thick myrtles an inspiration came to him. He would paint apicture of Queen Guinevere in her gay sweet youth and bright innocent beautyâ€" Guinevere with her lovely face and golden hair, the white plumes waving and jewels flashing, the bright figure on the milk 1white palfrey shining in the mellow sun- light that came through the green trees. Lancelot should rise by her side ; he could see every detail of the picture ;he knew just the noble.brave, tender face Sir Lancelot should have; but where could he find a: model for Guinevere? Where was there a face that would realize his artist dreams of her? Thepainting was half completed be- fore he thought of Valentine Charteris and her magnificent beautyâ€"the very ideal of Queen Guinevere. be. He longed to make his name immortal by it. He thought once of Tennyson’s “‘Dora," and of sketching his wife for the principal figure. He did make a slight sketch, but he found that he could not paint Dora's face: he could not place the dimpling smiles and bright blushes on the canvas, and they were the chief charm. He therefore abandoned] that idea. The greatest patron of the fine arts in Florence was the Prince di Borgezi. His magnificent palace was like one vast picture gallery. He saw some sketches of Ronald’s, and gave an order to him to paint a large picture, leaving him to choose the subject. In vain by night and by day did Banal? ponder on what that subject should Gradually, slowly, but surely, the fascin- ation of the ay and brilliant society in which Ronal was so eagerly courted, laid hold on him. He did not sin wilfully or conscientiously; little by little 9. distaste {or his home and a weariness of Dora's society overcame him. He was never un- kind to her, for Ronald was a gentleman; but he lingered no more through the long sunny mornings by her side. He gave up all attempts to educate her. He ceased to tease her about books; he never offered to read to her: and pretty, simple Dora, taught by the keen instinct of love, noted ‘ it a . I Ronald’s story became known in Florence. He was the son of a wealthy English eer, :who had ofl‘ended his father by a “ ow " marriage; in time he would succeed to the title. Hospitalities were lavished upon him, the best houses in Florence were thrown 0 en to him, and he was eagerly welcomed) there. When seople met him continually unaccompanie by his young wife they smiled significantly, and bright gee grew soft with pity. Poor. pretty ora. wife. If any true friend had step in then and warned them, life would eve been a. different story for Ronald Earle and his ”"”'Kru ‘ Their ways inflifo now became separate and distxnot, Ronald going more than over into societ , Dora clinging more to the safe shelter of cum. __----â€"~ vv uv. v5 uvs mauuws, and. as that was the last time the oountess ‘ever invited Mr. Earle and Dora alone, by slow degrees it beeamea settled rule that Dora should stay at home and Ronald go out. He had no seruple in leaving her-â€" she never objected; her face was always smiling and bright when he went away. and the same when he returned. He said to himself that Dora was he. pier at home than elsewhere, that fine l ies frightened her-“and made .heruunhappy. Dore more than once gave painful evndence of her luck of high breeding end education, which so terribly unnoyed her husbehd thst be under the excitement of the moment spo.ke injudiciously t9 her A0! her manner. CHAPTER XI. Mr. Gladstone has been elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. 8am Bernhardt will join 1; oompuny on Saturday. beginning with the " Dame Aux Carnelian," now (or the first time licensed in England. An exhibition of a novel character is to be held at London in August next. It will com rise all temperance and non-alcoholic drinfie, the machinery for their prepara- tion and the various modes of packing them. as well as machinery for cork-cutting, bottle cleaning and kindred industries. There will also be shown a quantity of artistic tea and coffee services in silver and china, etc.. and. as being peculiarly ap ro- priate to the season, icemaking machines and appliances for refrigeration. J. uuvu no our ioture,” said Lad Charterie. y p y “How well you remembered one not easily forgotten," he , and then another deep silence fell ' hem. Vhereis Mrs. Earle?” asked Valen- . “ Our visit is chiefly to her. Pray troduce her to mamma. I know her lready by description.” “Ileft my wife in the garden." said Ronald ;.“‘ehe.ll‘vge join her there? " coul ....... _, -._- --â€"---' """“°"““’ “W" “"..0Ked worn and thin; it had a. restless r/ - He did not look like a man w j? 13?; 931112113 ewe. Lady Charteris " ' l I sat visitto Esrlesoour Figs: 111;? 135$: never ceased ape . ng of him. and his father still pressr e the same rigid, unbend~ mg silence. “ I have so Charterie. mi 4998']- your picture," said Lady ‘How well you remembered r’s face!” eace. Lady Charteris ast visitto Earlesoour never ceased ape father still preset ing si_lence. They were told that Mr. Thorne was in his studio, and would see them there. They had sent in no card. and Ronald believed the “ two ladies” to have called on ‘some business connected with ictures. He started with surprise when L y Char- teris and Valentine entered. There were a few words of confused greeting, ahurried explanation of the circumstances that had led Sir Hugh to Florence; and then Val- entine looked long and steadily at the only man she had ever cared for. He was altered; the frank. handsome face 1M0}; worn and thin; it hada restless r/ " He did not look like a man w}; a. ‘firegsion It was not yet noon when Lady Char- terisand her daughter reached the little villa. Before they came to the house, Valentine caught one glimpse of a pretty pale face looking from the garden, a pale face with large dark eyes. Could that be pretty, smiling Dora? There were the shining rings of dark hair; but where were the smiles Ronald had described? That was not ahappy face. Care and sorrow were in every line of it. It was one of those Italian mornings when the fair face of nature seemed bathed in beauty, The air was full of the music of birds; the waters of the Arno rolled languidly on; oleanders and myrtles were in full bloom; birds sang as they sing only under the blue sky of Italy. “ You shall do as you like, my dear," replied Lady Charteris; “ the young man’s mother is my dearest friend, and for her sake we will be kind to him.” â€"v_ v mvuvluv asked her to drive next morning to the little villa. on the banks of the Arno. she at first half declined. “I promised to be Ronald's friend years ago,” said Valentine. calmly; " and now, mamma, you must allow me to keep my word. We must visit his wife and pay her every attention. To refuse would im- ply a doubt of me, and that I could not endure.” Ea: From that moxfient isiince di Bon resolved towoo and win Valentine ii could. 1 Prince di Borgezi smiled approval of the young lady’s reply. “ You admire my picture, Miss Char- teris ?" he asked. “ The more so because it is the work of an old friend," said Valentine: and again the Prince admired the grace of her words. “ Any other woman in her place,” he thought. " would have blushed and coquett- ad. How charming she is l " “There musqtigeâ€"géinething both eati- mable and loVable," replied Valentine, quickly, “ or Mr. Thorne would never have married her.” “ I was fond of Mrs. Thane once.” said the Countess, plaintively; “but really thgrgjs nothing 1_n her.” “ Nay," said Valentine; “ if Mr. Thorne has any secrete I should not reveal them. I must tell mamma they are in Florence. We punt eallpnd see them." “ His name is Ronald Thorns.” replied the Countess. “There is quite a romance about him." The Countess saw Miss Charteris grow pale and silent. ‘ “ Have you ever seen him?" inquired the Countess. “Do you know him?" “ Yes.” said Valentine; “ my family and his have been on intimate terms for man ears. Iknewthat he was in Italy with is wife." “Ah." rejoined the Countess, eagerly. “then perha s you know all about his marriage? V be was Mrs. Thorne? Why did he quarrel with his father? Do tell us. Miss Charteris." , 7 w V-vvâ€" vu-uvvvuv' mum \qu- tot-in." "You.” said Valentino. wonderingly; “ it in my own moo. How come it there? W111i: the artist '2” â€"â€".v-. 'ml.w. “ There 6371:5035 (1333': about the resem- blance," euid the Countess. “ The artist has made you Queen Guinevere. Miss Char- fnrh- " sweet in purity. Valentino started in banishment, any her galqpnqion‘slpilod. u mL__4 7 1y Charteris Earlesoour uâ€"h your picture ‘How Well vn To be continued. if he