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moon the “we once. who ma forgotten there (one. end lnugllghed over the ripe fruit end golden honey. e the drew nude the white whine. end at her tired eyee Ml neon the tweet summer _b_een:y of eerth nu- ‘-A ”W -_.I - They loothodiher with gentle loving words. Her “that aid she should shore his home will: her children. tnd he would mm ‘n her up ugtin. The bade hot "Och 0 link ones. who m5 forgottqn oh-â€" 0.... -_.I I-_-L-j __A, .. " 1m: one with dork ’hoir hoe the red Eerie hoe." aid Stephen Theme. proudly: " that is juet my lord‘s look. proud And uiet. Andlitne Liiiinu is something like when she Ins quite o child.“ "Never any that" cried the young mother. " Lei Khem grow like my one else. hut never like me." “ Do you not know. child." ehe eeid. gent] . “ thet a mother‘s love never (tile ? " Refph hnd raised the little onee in hie erme. end wee looking with wonderin edmiretion et the proud. beautiful hoe 0 fig little Beetrioe. end the feirloveh'neee of Lillien. The children looked with trunk. {urine eyee into his plein, honeet hoe. “" '1‘th one with dark heir he: the reel The fermer end his wife looked at each other in silent dismey. This proud.en women. With her passionste words. trig t‘ ened them. Could itbe there Dore who hed ever been sunshine and music to them? "If you do not like to take me home. tether." she said in s hsrd voice. “ I can go elsewhere; nothing can surprise or grieve me new." But kindly Mrs. Theme hsd drawn the tired heed to her. him. It was ellamietake. I could not think his thoughts, or live his lifeâ€"we were quite difl‘erent. end very unhnp y. He never wishes to see me gain. n I will suffer withing nther then see him." ‘ .___â€"_ -â€"-â€"â€" -v. mun-“6 I-I-IV ulfl wuu. “What did you do?"aeked her father anxiously. " Nothing that I thought wrou ." she replied. " Ask me no questions.“ er. I would rather die any death than return to him orgee him again. Yetdo not thinkevilof " Dora," said her mother, " what has happened ? Trust us. dear childâ€"we are your beet friends. Where is your husband 7 And why have you left him ? " “ Because he has grown tired of me." she cried. with passion and anger flaming again in her white. worn face. “I did something he thought wrong. and he prayed heaven to pardon him for making me his wife." “ I knew it would never prosper."groened her fetherâ€"" such merriegee never do." When Dore opened her eyes. and saw the three anxious faces around her. for a moment she was bewildered. They knew when the torture of memory returned to her. for she clasped her hands with a low “If he has; wronged her," he said to Stephen Thorne. “if he has broken her heal-hagd sent her home to die, be him They crowdedvround her, and Rel h Holt. with his strong arms. carried 0 fro 'le droopin e into the house. They lei her upon the ittle oouch,md drew the curling rings of dark hair book from her white he? hMre. Tharp: we t cloud, cryingout or er pretty ore, er poor. unhappy child. The two men stood watching her with grove. and 0 ea. ' Ralph clenched his hendcs he gaze; upon her. the wreck of the simple, gentle girl he had lovedeo dearly. “ Look." she said. hoersely. “ look down the meadow there. and tell meâ€"if that is Dore. or Dora’s ghoet ? " She drew near more swiftly now. for she had seen the three figures at the door. TIE white face and wild eyes seemed efleme wi anxie_ty. , “Dora. Dora I " cried Mrs. Thoma, “is it molly you? " “It is," said a faint bitter voice. “I am come home, mother. My heart is brgifon. and I_lox_ng to die}: beauty stole like a spell over her. Suddenly. down in the meadows. Mrs. Thorns caught sight of a lady, leading a little child by the hand. She was followed by a oung msid carrying another. As the lady grew nearer Mrs. Thorns stood trans- fixed snd bewildered. Could the summer sun or the flickering shade be mocking her? Was she. dreaming or awake ? Fsr of! still. through the summer haze. she saw a white, wsn face; dark eyes, shadowed and veiled, as though by long weeping; lips once rosy and smiling. rigid and firm. She saw whst seemed to her the sorrowful ghost of the retty, blooming child who had left or long ago. She tried tocall out. but her; voice failed her. She tried to run forward and meet the figure coming so slowly through the meadows. but she was wer- less to~ move. She never be the footsteps of her husband and his guest. She only stirred when Stephen Theme placed his hand upon her shoulder, and. in a loud, cheery voice. ssked what siled her LOVERS YET. â€"_ (By the author of “ Madollne's Levon") Stephen Thorne had gone with his guest and vnsitor. Rel h Holt. to {etch the cattle home. In Ralp 's honor, good. motherly Mrs. Thorne had laid out a bountiful tea â€"golden honey that seemed just gathered from the flowers. ripe fruits. cream fresh from the dairyâ€"everything was ready; yet the farmer and his guest seemed long in coming. She went to the door. and looked across the meadows. The quiet summer beauty stole like a spell ‘over her. n._AJ__I_- j___.,, A ..Illll on until. “I’d be a Butterfly." -â€"â€".,, v. “I‘ll -. w.. m R312; W" 771‘0 be i Bitwrfly. 'Til on! just A month or so The lngl can keep alive: Ono you”. once: they connot know, And mine m {on -nvo. I hope to earn a m a tuna "Bro Illaouy‘more 1:0 by. i won no prove a pay as me To be a butterfly. ' I tell you mnkI‘Jlr I would not it could; In inchutuulcuiue, I oouid not if I would. To many things we all as ire. For many thing a we sig But why should“8 mortal mm denim To boy a butterflv? VI I would not be 5 butterflyâ€" Nuy, Mr. Boyly. my; Although you rh me to cu And eye la web a dun y '3; Thou any words. i pretty air. Adm 3 but this ro‘fly: u nukes me I thou d badly cor. To be 5 butterfly. The plant: an! In 5 cordon grow Are {rah Ind very sweet; But more beam Ior a. show Thu: proper th no to out. I love my long. I love my fish. My joint on apple pie ; I1 mu pover make- me will: -_'_â€"vu vu: word of whnt and hnpponod. hm he could ill brook the uhnmo Don bod brought upon him. He romombond the summer morning in the wood: when ht hqd‘ told Valentino the ”0170! his Ion. and land with vehement words end foul oelnmniee. tHe ehrenk from lthe ‘women bwho bed 0 “on every me 0 good feedingâ€"- “-3; treoe of good mennen. in engry. demo peeeion. How wee he ever ‘0 teen Mie- Chemtie egein?_ §he wonld new-e! mention one Roueld did not return in the evening to the prettf ville where he hed once been so heppz. n the wermth of his enger. he felt thet e never could look egein upon his wife. To his sensitive. refined nsture ‘ there wee something more repulsive in the ‘diehcnoreble eet she hed committed then there would here been in e crime of deeper dye. He wee shocked end stertled â€"more so then it he hed ewoke some teir summer morning to find Dore deed by his side. She wee indeed deed to him in one sense. The ideel girl.ell purity.gentlenees. end truth. whom he hsdlcved end merried. hed. it earned. never reelly existed elter ell. Be mi: from the idee of the engry. vehement wo en who lied eeseiled him â€"_'AL _AI ,7” - The children grew snd throve. Dore had no cure st resentustotheir eduoetion. From her they earned ood En lish. nnd between herself and t e mi ul young nurse they could leern. she thought. tolersble Itslisn. She would not think of s future that might tskethosehelovedohild- ren from her. She ignored Ronald‘s oleimto themâ€"they were here. He hsd tired of them when he tired of her. She never felt the dsys monotonous in thst quiet turm- house. as others might hsve done. A dead cdm seemed to surround her. but it wss destined soon to be broken. CHAPTER XV. A few weeks passed. and but for the little ones Dore would have believed the whole to have been but a long. dark dream. She would not think of Ronald; she would not- remember his love, his sacrifices for her; she thought only of her wrongs and his cruel words. came from the town "of Shorebesch. Stephen Thorne spared no trouble or expense in pleasing his daughter. Dora. wondered she had never cared for books. now that deeper and more solemn thoughts cameto her. The pale face took a new beaut ; no one can d have believed that the oughtful women with the sweet voice and refined accent was the daughter of the blunt farmer Theme and his homely Dore asked for work. She would have been dairymsid, housemsid. or anything else. but her father said “ No." A pretty little room was given to her. with wood- binee and roses peeping in at the window. Here for long hours every day. while the children plsyed in the meadows. she sat sud sewed. There. too, Dors, for the first time. learned what Ronald, far sway in sunny Italy. had failed to teach herâ€"how tothinlr and _resd. Big hoses of‘boohs her. Calm and quiet. with deep earnest eyes. and lips that seldom smiled, Dora seemed to have found another self. Even with her children the and restraint never were 05. nor grew less. If they wanted to play they sought the farmer in the fields, the good-natured nurse, or the indul ent grandmammaâ€"never the sad. pale mot er. ‘If they were in trouble then they sought But the time came when the fierce fever burned itself out. and Dora lay weak and helpless as a little child. She recovered slowly, but she was never the same again. Her youth, hope. love, and happiness were all dead. Noemile or dimple, no pretty blush came to the changed face; the old cox beauty was all gone. 7 They sent in all haste for aid; but the battle was long and fierce. During the hours of delirium Mrs. Thorne gleaned sorrowfully some portion of her daughter's story. She cried out incessantly against a fair womanâ€"one Valentineâ€"whom Ronald lovedâ€"cried in soorn and in anger. Fre- quently she was in a garden. behind some trees; then confronting some one with flaming eyes. sobbing that she did not believe it, then hiding her face, and crying gut. “He has ceased to low-3 meâ€"let me ie!" Poor Dora's troubles were not yet ended. When the warm August sun peeped into her room on the following morning, she did not see it shine; when the children crept to her side. and called for mamma,she was deaf to their little voices. The tired head tossed wearily to and fro; the burnin eyes would not close. A raging fever had er in its fierce clutches. When Mrs. Thorns, alarmed by the children‘s cries. came in, Dora did not know her, but cried out loudly that she was a false woman, who had lured her husband from her. An Stephen watched the young man walking quickly through the long grey fields, he wished that Dore had never seen Ronald Earle. “ Let me see the little ones sometimes," continued Ralph; “and if large parcels of toys nnd books find their way to the Elms. you will know who sent them. But I must not come in Dora’s way; she is no longer porn Thorne.’f 'Doru'a father knew the young man was righj. , r. wesried girl sleeping above us will be sdy Earle. Her husband knew I loved her. No shadow even of suspicion must rest upon her. While {a nr daughter re~ mains underyour roof I s all not visit you “I know." replied the {011113 tumor; ‘_‘_bu§__you havgmgny to___ ink {qr noyv. Mr. Tfiome. The tithe will oome when ihé “Surely." said Stephen Thoma, “ you no not lowing us. You promised to any 3 whole week. When the little ones. like the flowers. bed gone to eleep.end Dora had gone into the pretty white room prepered for her. Relph rose to teke hieleeve. With wise and tender thought they let Don weep undisturbed. The bitter sobbing ceased et lut. Dore bed and farewell to her love. She ley white and exheueted, but the nnger end ion had died ewev. “ Let me live wi youJether.” she still. humbly. " I will serve you. and obey you. I am content. more then oontent. With my own home. But for my little children. let slurp mew-gym sec-:1. closing thoit btight eyes, the wind whinper. ingiu: " ood-u' ht " to the shimmering. graceful e m- was pews, sad the hot, mgry heart grew «1m and still. Binter tetra rose to the burning cyanâ€"tom thst fell like uin. sad seemed to Me away the '11th gringo! her‘phin‘. “ Lord Edie 36m no. forum it." mar. mptsd Don. cdxnly. " knowâ€"I do no‘ won or." “ ‘9‘: In!“ lo} up go 911 I can for them LA7, “While it ie poeeihle." aid Don. weerily. " I ehell never leeve home egein; an: I cennot hope to keep them here weye.“ "I ehonld hevelikedto edopt mem." aid Lady Berle; "Iotehe them home and edugete}hem.rbutâ€"" " You ere my denghter now." she said. ‘ in that rich. mneioel voice which Don rememhei'ed so well. " We will not mention the peat; it ie imvoceble. If you sinned egninet dnty end obedience. our hoe tells me you heve enflen'ed. et hue come between von end my eon I do not eeek to know. The shock must hove been e greet one which rted you. for he geve up ell the world or yon. Don. yem ego. We will not sped: of Ronald. Our one must be with the children. 0! ooune you wish themmto‘remeinyith yon ?" _ Stephen Thorne end his wife received the greet lsdy not without some tre idstion; : yet they were in no way to blame. he fetal marriage hsd been se greet a blow to them on to Lord sud Ledy Esrle. With the guiet dignity and graceful esee thst never eeerted her. Lady Berle soon made them feel at home. She stated in utter sur- riee when n quiet, eve women. on whoee see sweetness nu sullen humor were strsngly mingled, entered the room. This could notbe retty, coy, blushing Dore! Where were t e dim lee sud smiles? The lsrge dsrk eyes nines so sadly to her were full of strange. pathetic beauty. With shsrp pin the the ht struck Led Earle, uWhat must not rs here a ered to have chsnged her so grestly?" The esd eyes and worn fsce touched her an no beeuty could hsve done. She ole-pod Dorsl in her srms end kissed her. The little ones looked n to her with wondering eyes. To them 0 was like: vieion. with her noble fece and distinguished Lady Earle wee not long in availing herself of the permission. There wee great excitement at the Elms one mar-mug. caused by the receipt of a. letter from Lady Earle.seying that she would bethere on the same dey, to visit her son's wife and children. “ i am not surprised," he said, " that the unhappy boy is weary of his pretty toy. It could not be otherwise; he must bear the consequences of his own folly. He had time for thought. he made his own choice â€"now let him abide by it. You have dis- regarded my wish. Lady Helena. in even naming the matter tome. Let all mention of it cease. I have no son. One thing rememberâ€"I am not hard upon youâ€"you can go where you like. see whom you like, and spend what money you will. and as 3'09 will-‘3, But to all his wife‘s entreatiea Lord Earle turned a deaf ear. He declared that never during his life-time should the children of Dora Thorne enter Earleeoourt. His resolution was fixed and unalterable. How. he asked. was he to trust the man who had once deceived him? For aught he knew. the Be ration between Ronald and his wife mig t be a deeply laid scheme. and the children once with him. there would be a grand reconciliation between the parents. ' “ Dora and I," he said, “ will never live together againâ€"perhaps never meet. She has gone home to her father ; I am going to wander over the wide earth. Will you induce my father to receive my children at Earleseourt? And will you see Mr. Burt. and arrange that half my small income is eet_tled upon__D_o_ra? "_ _ The silent deserted rooms did not remind him of the loving young wife parWd from him forever. He was too angry, too annoyed, for any gentle thoughts to influ- ence him. She had left himâ€"so much the better; there could never again be peace between them. He thought with regret of the little onesâ€"they were too young for him to undertake charge of them, so that they were best left with their mother for atime. He said to himself that he must make the best use he could of his life; everything seemed at an end. He felt very lonely and unhappyas he sat in his solitary home; and, the more sorrow pressed upon him, the more bitter his thoughts grew, the deeperbecame his dislike to his unhappy young wife. Ronald wrote to his mother. but he said no word to her of the cause of their quarrel. "The last act in "the farce," he said, bitterly." If I had not been mad I should hsve foreseen this." Thinking of all these things. Ronald's love for his young wife seemed changed to dislike. Three days passed before he returned home; then he was somewhat startled to find her really gone. He had anticipated sullen temper. renewed quarrels, and then a separation, but he was startled to find her actually gone. The servant gave him the cold, farewell letter. written without tears. without sorrow. He tore it into _e_hreds. and flung it from him.‘ not stand in Valentine’s presence again. and for the first time he realized what she had been to him. Home. and consequently England, was closed to him; the grand mission he had once believed his had tsded from his mind. his own life was wrecked. every ho ‘ and Inn of his fether’a disappointed an dead. here seemed to him nothing left to care for. His wifeâ€"oh, he would not think of her! The name vexed him. He could Ronald had never before been brought into close contact with dishonor. He had some taint recollection at college of having seen and known a young man. the son of a wealthy nobleman, scorned and despised, driven 1mm all society. and he was told that it was because he had been detected in the act of listening at the principal'e door. He remembered how old and young had shunned this young man as though he were plague~atricken ; and now hisown wife. Dora. had done the ver same thing under circumstances that ren ered the dishonor greater. He asked himself. with a cynical smile, what he could expect. He had married for love of a pretty. child-like two. never iving an thoughtto rinciple. mind, or into act. ’1‘ e only won or was that so wretched and unequalled a match had not turned out ten times worse. His father's warning rang in his ears. How blind. how foolish he had been! Every hope of 182ml!“ his pretty. utleaa Don to her. uld the wgr wanna who hui clued to ion“ him. tn to oalumnisu the tuireat wd truest lady in :11 Englwd. possibly be ‘the tune? children had gone home to E And. nnd the husband. “to: selling 03 is home. hod gone with Hr. Chalet Sundon into the interior of Attics. Whnt wu he going to do then? She lunentod him for two any- without ceasing. until anentino wutirod of her mnny conjectnru. He won mined in the bn’llinnt salon of Flamenco. but by none so much nby Vdontino Clutter». Whnt the pretty ooqnettioh Counts. bad mid won true. Alter linking my plum ' 006nm Raul: loudfy lamented Ron- tld'l depurturo. It wuoo Itmgo. the “9‘95 thq dyk-oygd lime gilg ugd he; hennt him to his dying dey; toperdon the inenlte thet hed driven him nenrly mud; to perdon the mod jeeloney. the dishonor of Don; to forget him and ell belonging to him. When Mine Cherierie read the: letter she knew thet ell eflorte w reetore we would for e ‘ime he in vein. She eerd the do following the: the clever yonng ertiet._ r. _Thorne. had left. _ wee leaving Florence at once. end would not be able to see her egnin. He wrote to Valentine. but the few out! words ex reeeed little of whet he felt. He prayed at to forget _ §he ngieerphle eeene thnt 7 would These thoughts first maddened him, then drove him to des air. What had life left for him ? He 00 d not return to England; his father's doors were closed againt him. There was no path open tohim; without his father's help he could not get into Parliament. He could not work as an artist at home. He would not remain in Florence; never again. he said to himself. would he see Valentine Charterisâ€"Valen- tine. who had been the witness of his humiliation and disgrace. Sooner anyth' than that. He would leave the villa an go somewhereâ€"he cared little where. No uiet, no rest came to him. Had his mis~ ortunes been accidentalâ€"had they been ‘ any other than what they were. the result‘ of his boyish folly and disobedience, he would have found them easier to bear; as it was. the recollection that it was all his own fault drove him half mad. Before mormng he 1nd written 3 {m- well [notefo Igdy Chartorin. saying thnt 139 to her angry. abusive words. And this untrained. ignorant. ill-bred woman was his wife! For her he hid given up home, nts, position. wealthâ€"all he held in ' e worth coring for. For her, end through her. he stood there alone in the world. Dora, in the fury of her jealousy and rage. tried to kill him. he would have thought that but a small ofl‘enoe compared with the breach of honor in crouching behind the trees to listen. He thought of the quiet. grand beauty of Valentine's face while Dora’s was oonvulsed with passion. He remembered the utter wonder in Valen- tine‘s eyes when Dora's flamed upon them. He remembered the sickening sense of shame that had oowed him as he listened During those years little or nothing was heard of Ronald. After reading the cold letter Dora. left for him. it seemed as though all love. all care, all interest, died out in his heart. He sat for many long hours, thinking of the blighted life “he could not lay dowu, yetcared little to hold." He was only 23â€"the age at which life opens to most men; yet he was worn, tired, wearied of everythingâ€"the energies that once seemed boundless, the ambition onw so fierce and mud. all gone. His whole nature recoil from the shock. Hod ings added to it. There was a pretty sitting- room for Dora, and a. larger one to serve as a study for the children. large sleeping- -rooms, ands both- room. all replete with comfort. Two years passed before all was comp leted. andy Lady Earle thought it time to send a. governess to the Elms. As Lady Earle wished the old [arm-house Ens left intact. and 1. new group of build- For the first time in her life the thought came home to Dora. How was she to teach what she hnd never learned and had failed to practice? That night. long After Lady Earle had gone away and the children had fallen asleep. Dora knelt in the moonlight and prayed that she might learn to teach her children to do their duty. “I shall send a good piano and a harp." said Lady Earle . "it will be _my Ends and pleasure yto select books. music. Wings and everything else my grandchildren require. I should wish them always to be nicely dressed andoarefull trained. Tovou. Dora. I must leave the h ighest and heat training of all. Teach them to be good. and to do their duty They have learned all _when they have learned that. " Together with Stephen Thoma and his wife Lady Earle went over the Elms. The situation delighted her; nothing could be better or more healthy for the children. but the interior of the house must be altered. Then with delicate grace that could only charm. never wound, Lady Earle unfolded her plans. She wished a new suite of rooms to be built for Dora and the children. to be nicely furnished with everything that could be required. She would hear the expense. Immediately on her return she would send an eflicient French maid for the little ones. and in the course oi a year or two she would engage the services of an accomplished governess. ; who would undertake the education of Beatrice and Lillian without removing them from their mother’s care. Dore. notiwd thet. long as she remained. Lady Eula never let Beatrice leave her arms; occasionally she bent over Lillian and touched her soft golden curls, but the child with the “Earle hoe" was the one she loved beet. “There is a great contrast between them,” she said thoughtfully. " They will require weful training. Dora; end now we will speak of the nutter which he: brgught me bagel" The‘u Lady Earle looked It the [air iri- tuel (we and golden heir ollittle Lili an. The eh dove like eyoe end sweet lips charm her. "‘ She hu'iho Earle spirit nod pride." and the young mother; “ I find it. bud ‘0 “£9380 31°! 6'30 Pow-'f “Why. Dora.” she said. udmiringly. “she has the Eula two. with a novel chum all its own. This child will grow up i530 s_msg9ifigenq womgn." ' Don remembered why she hud not done no. end n flush of eheme rose to her hoe. They were besuliful children. and Don brought them proudly to the etetely lady Whiting for them. Lady Eula took Bea- trice in her arms. mode ell pine and unngemente. We will give the children an edueetion befitting their position. without removing them from you. Then we shell see whet time will do. Let me see the little once. I wuh yon hell celled one Ejelene. otter mo.” nnhnppy eon bed leaned to love Klee Chenerie when n wu ell too lete? From the: (1., Ltdy Berle tied her son with n deeper and more ten «companion; ehe tun-lewd Don’s curt word- in civil Eng- lieh. end then wrote to Hi- Chltterie. Velentine quite nndentood upon reading Donwu bitterly} «louse! Vdentine. Ed the my cum {or it ? Could it be ting her Lady Eirle new ehe hed mode e mi» take when she repeated Velentine‘e words to Don. The dyonng wife's {we flushed burning red. en then grew white to dentin. " Prey bring me no more meeeegee 1mm Mien Cherterin.“ ehe replied. "I do not like herâ€"ehe would only come to triumph over me. I decline to lee her. I hove no message to send her." Then for the first time on inkling of the truth come to Ledy Berle. Evidently Lady Cbuteriu and her do but left Florence Ind returned to Greeno e. Lody Eula poid them a long visit. nnd heard I“ they land to tell of her idolized non. Lady Clinton: spoke kindly of Don; nnd Valen- tine. believing line could do something to restore pence. sent on ofl‘ectionnto greeting, m9 {shed permiuion_to_vis_it tho Elms. generous character. his utiatic notes; his utidiona exclusiveneoo bod a charm for her: she did not love him. but. it seemed to her more thou proboble that the day would coma when she would do so. It did not then but before the morning ended Prince Borgezi had obtained per- mieeion to visit Englnnd in the spring. nnd eel: sin the some question. Valentine liked im. She admired hie noble end “ How cold and lately these English girls are I" thought the lover. " They ere more like goddesses than women. Would my word of mine ever disturb the proud eol_dne_sa_ of the} perfect‘che ?" A Under the bright sky the handsome Italian told the story of his love, in words that were poetry itselfâ€"how he worshiped the fair. calm girl, so unlike the women of his own clime. As she listened, Valentine thought of that summer morning years ago when Ronald had told the story of his love ; and then Valentine owned to her own heart that. if Ronald were in Prince Bor- gezi's place. she would not listen so calmly. nor _r_eply so coolly: “ But you will in time." he replied. “ I yonld not change your quiet. friendly liking, Miss Cheriefie. for the love of any other woman." ” I will tell you how it is." resumed Velent'ne. after a. short pause. “ I like you better perhaps than sny man I know, but I do not love you." "You do not forbid me to try all I can to win_your love ?‘f asked the Prince. " No," was the calm reply. " I esteem you very highly. Prince. I cannot any more." - Valentine hid recovered her self-posses- sion. Ber lover gazed anxiously at her peeutiful face; its proud calm was unbro- ken. “I really do not know what to any.” replied Valentine. “ You do not refuse me ?" said her lover. “ Well. no." replied Valentine. “And you do not accept me ?" he con- tinned. “ Decidedly not," she replied. more firmly. “ Then. I shall consider there is some ground {or hope." he said._ _ “Have you no fibrd for me. Miss Char- teria 7" he said. “ I lay my life and my lava“ at your feet. Hue you no word for Valentine raised her magnificent eyes in wonder. It was an offer of marriage then thetlm was making. _ _ " Your permission to keep for my own the original ‘Queen Guinevere,’ " he replied ; " that picture is more to me then all I possess. Only one thing is dearer, the original. May Iever hopeto make that mine also?" " What in m" 33de Valentine. calmly, anfigjpating gouge gnfliug‘reque‘st. “ Miss Chutsris." he said, after a. few words of greeting. “ I am come to ask from you the greatest favor, the sweetest boon, 3999;.“ 9°9f°r2n WEN" Lately there had been rumors that Lady Charteria and her daughter intended to leave Florence ; then Prince Borgezi decided upon knowing his fate. He sought Valentine. and found her seated under the shade of her favorite trees. Two months afterwards. as Miss Char- teris sat alone in her favorite nookâ€" the bower of trees where poor Dora's tragedy had been enactedâ€"she was found by the Prince Borgezi. Every one said that sooner or later it would come to this. Prince Borgezi. most fastidious of men, who had admired many women but loved none. whose verdict was the rule of fashion, loved Valentine Charterie. Her fair Eng- lish face. with its calm grand beauty, her graceful dignity. her noble mind and ure soul. had captivated him. For many ong weeks he hovered around Valentine, lon - ing. yet dreading, to speak the words whic would unite or part them for life. So the little villa was deserted ; the gaunt. silent servant found a fresh plsce. Ronald's pictures were esgerly bought up -, the pretty countess. after looking very sentimental and sad for some days. forget her sorrow and its cause in the novelty of making the acquaintance of an impassive. nnimpressionsble American. Florence soon forgot one whom she had been proud to know and honor. “ Jedcue of me. poor child !" said Valen- tine to herself. " Nozhiug but ignonnce can excuse her. As though I. with half Florence at my feet. cured {or her huehcnd, . except. as a dear cud true friend. " ire-forgotten garden scenelltonaldv Earle ‘had left Italy. and became in wsnderer ‘upon the face of the earth. CHAPTER XVI. Valentine Chartsris never told the secret. bhe listened to the wonder and conjectures of all around her. but not even to her mother did she hint what had passed. She pitied Ronald profoundly. She knew the shock Dora hsd inflicted on his sensi- tive honorable die sition. For Dore herself she felt no in; but compassion. Her calm. serene nature was incapable of such jealousies. Valentine could never be jealous or mean. but she could understand the torture which had made shy. gentle Dora both. snd forming mwy resolutions. Ronnld met Mr. Sundon. who was on the point of joining w exploring expedition in South Atrial; HeT ludly congeniedlw moon)- pnny im. on was at m. prom yon nooiied. Font dnys “£0th navy-09- (Continued on menu: mo.)