OR, THE MISSING \ CHAPTER XVI, hatwell Rectory was a comfortable | little country house which assumed a} pleasant coquettish pretence of being | a cottage. It wore a rustic crown of neat' clean thatch, the proiecting eaves of which threw tthe rain well off the stone walls and sheltered them from the frost; the latticed bay windows and the picturesque porch were roofed with this same neat thatch; the twinkling windows, gab-! led roofs, and twisted chimneys were ! so clasped, smothered, and twined about with creeping. greenery and! richness of blossom that they seemed _to emerge from all the. bloom only | by a strong and continuous effort. Just now in the heart of summer, a Gloire de Dijon, a red-hearted cab- | bage-rosc, and a pink-flushed bunch rose threw their blooming sprays all! over and among its myrtles and' honeysuckles, so that people on. the; gravel drive in front literally walked ' upon rose-leaves as the petals float-' ed down on the summer air faster than they could be swept up by the stréctest of gardeners. And ths head-gardener, the ga of this paradise, was not strict; even liked what more aecteesionat gardeners --term a litter, especially when sweet as this. He, that is, Mr. Ingleby, was standing on this sunny afternoon beneath a broad- | armed linden-tree, 'which was swect ; with bee-haunted blossom, with his black straw hat tilted over his face-- a handsome face with kind blue eyes and clean-shaven mouth of benugnant , eurve, framed by blue-black hair of graceful wave and blue-black whisk- ers of fashionable cut--with a heath: broom in his hand and a heap of) short grass at his fect. But instead ; of sweeping, he was looking dreamily , over the cottage in the foreground at ; the sweep of park land spreading | away to the blue hills, and the vil- lage to the left backed by pastures, farmstead, and corn-Innd, and end- ing in a distant promise of shining Ben. A lady in a broad garden-hat, about his own age, which was some thirty odd summers--and these odd ; . Summers are often very oddily reck-' oned by her sex--a plain likeness of , himself,-was tying up some carna- tions, not without a critical glance at the idle rector, who she observed, though he had taken off his coat, looked, in his white tie and white shirt-sleeves with stainless cuffs, as spick and span as if prepared to walk down Piccadilly .on a -fine May , afternoon. "Do you hold that broom for ef- fect or with some distant hope of making use of it, William ?" she ask- ed in her sharp, staccato way. "For a little of both, Susie,"' he replied, with his sweet smile. a fancy the broom comcys some faint idea that I might be useful, which enhances my other charms, and I am not entirely without some hope of pred the lawn swept in the course of tim 7 'What you want is a good wife, with a tongue like Mrs. mer's," grumbled Miss Ingleby. "What I lack but don't need, dear," he returned. "Besides, while strict Plum- I enjoy the privilege of your conver- | sation, can sharper ?"' "Or more acid ?" she added, ing. "Just fancy, the Medways call us honey and vinegar." "Good for sore throats. berry vinegar would be . There's a little tartness in both of us. Miss Lonsdale is our sponser. if I am not mistaken. Poor girl!" | "Poor indeed ! Why she is as rich as Midas."' 'And as miserable. And the recds | tell little whispering tales of her. Midas has nothing to do and gets: into mischief. Midas is a coquette, and the Nemesis of coquettes has , overtaken her." "What in the world is that?" in-| terrupted Miss Ingleby, with a look | of stony amazement. "Surely the man is cracked," she added aside to | the carnations. "To fall in love with the man siie | can "t have.' "You, I suppose. But pity is akin to love. When did she _ tell ou? Is it a confessional secret?' I hope for anything | "Su, "T think I see the fair Clara in aj} might have done last Easter, if you'd been at home when she called." "Wasting her desert parson----' "Say a deserted parson."' ."In my mind's eye, Susanna,"' continued, with imperturbable swect- ness; "but I wish to goodness she } had let that nice little Jessie Meade } alone.' "Stuff! She can't flirt with Jessie. Nothing can be better for the girl | than to have the entree of .a house like Marwell Caurt. Clara Lons- dale will form her manner and give 'her the chic the little rustic could never have Ceveloped at her board- ing-school.'"' "Heaven forbid!" said Mr. Ingle iy, with fevor. '{But Jessie is too ue a lady to be spoilt by Miss sweetness upon a , 'Now saints y me,'" murmured Mius Ingleby aide for this man. is laugh- | he | evidently. on the road. to Bedlam, |'Th Meadcs' daughter and the Plum- "mers! cousin, born in a mill, brought Pp at a missish boarding wool: and ifnished at Redwoods Far gl, "Nature said of Jessie iu her birth will make a lady of mine own.' "The man is raving!' "Meade was ungrammatical, but not ungentle. There were no-people at /Cleeve I liked so much and found so 'congenial as the Mendes. Dear old !people!" : "And it is thus that the pet cur 'ate of Cleeve alights his old parish- |ioners en masse ! } "Whatever Phil Randal's origin {may be, he has ithe making of a gcn- tIeman in him.' "Wasn't ne. the son of a drunken Old Clo' man "I saw a pale deal of the tad at /one -time. {mpulsive, good-hearted, | tender-mouthed; needed a light hend; a tight curb made him kick. I be lieve I am responsible for nis Icing lin the. army. advice I guve | Matthew Meade on the subject is one of the few things I never repented of. If you come.to think of it Sue, it e lisn' ta bad thing to rise by pure 'merit from a private to captain, in fan army where promotion is put- , chased, and influence is necessary to advancement."' 'Tt was a clever stroke of yours, 'Will. Especially -your prevision of the Crimea and the Mutiny," she commented with a ale air. * "7 sell you to a Turkisn Bashaw, Miss, if you don't take some of the ,edge off that tongue of yours,'" he 'replied with a more radiunt smile 'than ever, as he began to apply his broom to the long-neglected sward, 'Phil Randal is a good fellow, Iet 'me fell you, and a fine soldier; and 'J wish to goodness his charming lit- tle sweetheart had been left alone by the Marwell Court people. It is 'enough to spoil even her. The girl lis in an entirely false position there. | They make use of her as a sort of nurse to that poor little sick Ethel, whose fretfulness wears everybody 'else out. Miss Lonsdale treats her as something between a lap-dog and ha slave. She meets fast men there; why even Claude--" "Poor Claude, the . most harmless aod good- -hearted of human beings. le can't help --, an Apollo, dis- |guised as a hussa "Dear me," <r Mr. Ingleby, resting on his broom and smiling ; sweetly upon his sister with his, sun- ny blue eyes. "An Apollo! So | th at is the feminine notion of an Apollo? In what respect does he lresemble that elegant and accom- plished god? I never heard of his writing Verses of even holding forth at public dinners.' "Why, in his beauty to be sure. "Beauty ! Do you really think, | Medway beautiful, Sue ?" be asked jbenignantly, regarding his sister's jJabors; "what odd taste women jhave ! Claude Medway ! He is not deformed,' certainly, his legs are straight, so is his back. I belicve ithat his nose is properly fixed on. and he doesn't squint, but to call { " | my |that great hilKing fellow beautiful ! |I It is the tailcring, my dear, the tailoring of Bond Street. |'* "With his cruel dart did Cupid nail r, = ee shaft was winged by a Bond Street tailor !' an first impromptu, Sue, and your | epitaph; not bad, is it?" | "And then people talk of women's \Jealousy !" observed Miss Ingleby, | dropping into a rustic seat, and fan- ning herself with her hat. "Thero's something I like in that young fel- low, William. It is beautiful to see 'him with Ethel, When I called the | 'other day, Jessie was reading aloud to her, and Claude was sitting by "her couch, handing cau de Cologne, larranging pillows, drawing blinds up and down according to her whims. It was one of Ethel's -fractious days. The nurse had been twice reduced to | tears. Sir Arthur confided to me ;that he would gladly give a year of | his life to give Ethel one hour's ease | but that she had ordered him out 'of her room in irritation, and he had isent Jessie as a last resource. And: then to see that handsome, distin- ,guished looking man, who is ex- |pected to do nothing but enjoy him- iself, pent up in a close darkened | lroom, humoring all that peevish | child's whims and_ ill-temper, and; | waiting on her like the tenderest | | nurse. . "Most affecting," added Mr. Ingle jby, "a healthy young man sacrificing 'an hour's idleness to a sick sister! {And Jessic was reading aloud, was 'she ? Dear me!' Mr. Ingleby repeated this exclama- tion with a preoccupied air, and lapplicd himself with great energy to the broom for a few seccnds. "I* wonder what brings Medway here at this time of year, Sue," he added, relapsing into idleness again. "The train probably, and his own sweet will. I can't imagine, Wil- iam, what you have again' that poor young man. 'Why nothing, he's a very od sort of fellow, but it isn't well for a man of his stamp to be kicking Tee be constantly mosting Hal ees | "Really, William, one would think peor Captain Medway was a vulagr n-Juan-to -hear-yeu,"' comeniaier eh Su. returned Mr. rich and well-born, an cavalry regiment, i eogh sl nae be ever such a good [cllow--well ! a hus- sar is a hussar and not a practised jexponent of ethics--look here, why don't you have Jessie Meade here oftencr; and make a pare of her 7? Ask her to tea." "'She's asked for to-night," Seclled Miss Ingleby, gazing with a quietly ce expression upon her broth- er's face. "As it is your cricket hight, I thought it a good opportun- ity. I know how strongly you dis- 'approve of bachelor society for her. Why, there she is,"' she exclaimed, catching sight of a light summer dress among tke shrubs ty the gate, and rising to mect Jessie with a cor- put on his coat and followed his. sister, thinking, not without satisfaction, that the cricket bee postponed, and that all bachelor society was not bancful to Jessie. Jessie always felt at home in' that house; sho liked the Inglebys, none the less because Mr. Ingleby had heen accustomed to drop in at Still- brooke Mill for achat and some- times a pipe, which it had been her protid office as a child to fill. _ She came smiling up the drive with a sort of wild-rose grace, with her hafr gleaming fitfully as the sunshine and leaf-shadows changed upon it. She was, as usual, very simply dressed, without ornament, yet the lines of her figure were so subtly graceful, and her bearing had so modest a dignity, that her plain, fresh, well- fitting dress had an elegant distinc- tion far beyond that of cman and richness of fabric. She carried a small Giakek con- taining a gift from Cousin Jane's dairy and garden, a common basket about which as she came along she had entwined same sprays of wild- rose s0 as to make it a beautiful object. "What an artist you are, child !" |---- Miss Ingleby said, taking the bas- iket; "you can touch nothing withgut making it beautiful. Come in and sit in the cool, you have had a broil- ing walk,'"' Jessio was not sorry to find herself in a low chair in the pretty little drawing-room, which looked upon the lawn and the blue distance be- yond, and Miss Ingleby derived a half spiteful amusement from seeing her brother follow them to that fem- inine retreat and supply Jessie's lack of adornment by a cluster of rose- buds, which repeated the delicate tinting of her face, and were plucked from his favorite: Devoniensis tree. "Tf a young woman can look more charming than as God made her, essie, it is when wearing rosebuds."' e said on presenting them. '"'Thank you, Mr. Angleby," she re- plied, with a child's simple pleasure, as she rose to arrange the flowers be- fore a glass. "And this before my very eyes reflected Miss Ingleby. "No wonder he is afraid of cavalry officers if mid- dle-aged pgrsons go on like this.' "T really must break myself of call ing you Jessie he added, sitting hate her with 'his arms on the back of his chair, and contemplating the effect of his roses with profound ad- miration, "I never can remember that you are grown up and engag- ped." ; "I hope you never will," she re- plied, with the faint blush, any 'nllusion to her engagement now al- ways called forth; "'it is so pleasant to hear you say Jessie; it makes me feel Sel again, and reminds mo of hom Her vate quivered a little at the last word, and there was a respon- sive tremor in Mr. Ingleby's' kind face. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder as he passed her on leaving the room. "Poor child," he said, "you are still new to trou- ble, and you don't even know how young you are. 'Phke care of her, --_, and pet her as much as you a 1° "ite evidently thinks little of my 'petting powers, Jessie, commented \his sister when he was gone. 'Truly \I ae met such a man as my bro- the There is not a child in this beieetl that he does not spoil. I am lobliged to be a very dragon to 'make up for his deficiencies."' | "Pon't be a dragon to me, dear Miss Ingleby," said Jessic, drawing ther chair to her side and taking her hand in the caressing way that no one, not even Miss Ingleby, could resist, "T like to be spoilt "T,dare say you do, miss," was hor jinward reficction, "an artful young | puss ! Take care that you are not really spoilt, my dear,"' she added, laloud, "such a pretty face as yours 'often proves a dangerous gift; it leads people, especially men, stupid creatures, to. 'value you far beyond your merits.' "But I can't help being pretty,"' she replied, with total absence of vanity, "and I really don't. think I am--very--at least not prettier than most girls." Miss Ingleby looked at her with a searching directness that would have put most people out of countenance. "If you are not very. deep, my lady,"' she thought, "you are certainly the most refreshing young person I ever met." | "Well," she replicd, seeing that Jessie did not blerich, "perhaps you are not so very good looking after all. But, as you say, most young girls are pretty enough to at- tract nonsensical admiration, -es- pecially from men, who are all abso- made us 'all handsomne." And men would not | tiful than during tim which her brother had been rector of arwell. The latter, no longer distracted by his sister's conversation, applied him- self diligently to his broom, and just finished 'sweeping his lawn and ratreaaeit visitor, and he went for- ward to receive him with a dazed look which was not, unperceived by Captain Medway. "IT am fortunate in finding you at home,"' the latter. said, "though my visit is to Miss Ingleby, for whom I have an errand from my sister." Mr. Ingleby hoped that the invalid was better, apparently not hearing that Captain Medway wished to see the mistress of the house. "Better,"' he replied with a of impatient catch. in his 'Oh, yes, better, I suppose. Mr. Ingleby looked je stead- ily at the young man 's troubled face while uttering some commonplaces about time, hope, and patience, which he knew to be futile. He had seen that expression upon so many faces when Visiting the sick, because they seemed to mean more than hopeless silence. Nedway's -voice and geen Bons '"'she will never be bet- ter," and they. implied o pained self- reproach of whieh the rector had the key; for it was while in her brother's charge that Ethel Medway had re- ceived the injury. which darkened her sort breath. outh. "Not oid heart,"' he reflected. "IT wanted see you about the cricket club," taneals Medway con- tinued, in his usual voice. "I shall be knocking 'about here for a few weeks. I suppose your eleven is made up, but if I can be of any use "I do want someone to show what f bowling means," Mr. Ingleby quickl interrupted, plunging headlong intd fe s the subject, on which he was eager} as a school boy, having, as Captain || Medway knew, a that cricket -was the basis of all manly virtue, if not of every Chris- tian grace, and conceiving it to be hopeless to try to improve the mor- als and youths until he had with a love and knowledge of national game. They walked up and down beneath the trees for a good ten minutes, dis- cussing and arranging, Mr. Ingleby happily oblivious of everything but the grand pastime soften the hearts souls of the Marwell youth until he was brought face to face with un- welcome facts by his guest's sudden question .if Miss Ingleby were at home. He would have replied that she was engaged, had not the draw- ing-room window furnished a full- that length portrait of his sister reclining |* in a low chair talking to Jessie, who war irvisible from: without. Some mad notion of carrying Jersie off into safe hiding crossed his mind and was dismissed before he relus- tantly admitted the wolf into the very presence of the pet lamb, who appeared no whit dismayed or sur- prised at the invasion. Miss Ingleby had been watching her young guest with an interest on which her brother's recent observa- tion had put a keen edge. Jessie's remarkable beauty struck her more forcibly than it had done before, 'per- haps because her attention was turn- ed to it, and the idca that beauty of such distinction amounted o misiortune in a girl so strangely sit- uated entered her mind. Jessie was a little pale, which was natural after her hot walk, but the graceful languor of her attitude in the low chair she had taken bétoken- ed somethifig more than physical weariness; there was, to a keen - ob- server, a subdued passion in it and in the half-strained set of her fea- tures, but, sharp as Miss Ingleby was, she could not see far below that wonderful combination of mask and mirror, a human face. She was a little startled hy the sudden radiance which transfigured the young girl's face in the midst of their quiet chat, an electric flash, which gave depth and fire to her eyes and made her form and features instinct with spiritual life. "A death- ly pallor succeeded this lightning brilliance, Jessie moved, as if un- easy from bodily pain, her heart beat in thick pulsations so that. she pressed her hand a moment to her side, her movement apparently gave her relicf, her color returned in rich purity, she spoke with animation and held herself almost proudly, all her beauty seemed aglow with some spiritual fire as she glanced through the open window, past Miss Ingleby, whose face was turned to her. Surely, Miss Ingleby thought, the number of broods Cousin Jane's hens had hatched that spring was not a question calculated to make a girl's heart beat too fast and her color come and go in that remarkable way; and what was there in the an- nouncement that twenty-four cows were now in milk at Redwoods, and yielding so many pounds of butter aw to make her. glow like a young Fythoness? Yet those were the unexciting topics under discus- sion, and there was nothing. but the sunny grecn linden-tree before Jes- sie's eyes--so Miss Ingleby thought, deat! a would hie , cefully "he- his mission from his' sister. Having oxplain his turned and apparently became of a essie's Presence for How do you do. Miss I prise that unexpectedly Indifferent person pressed "You are a philosppbesaeate mented, with the ch pressed more by the than. any other feature that few peo could resist, much less Miss 1 when young and fascinating men are regarded with maternal vedere and who openly avowed that loved ao chat with a fine, beight-esetlt Le fellow who had won his spurs in actual battle. Mr. Ingleby had narrowly watched the demeanor of both his guests on; their mecting, and the result of hia at the other end o: the room that he might show her a portfolio of en= yravings, over which they chatted happily, while Captain Medway, tak- ing a seat by Miss Ingleby, engaged her in a conversational tournament, Tin-which, though "he-broke many a lance, he was of course Van- was announced, Miss past known as hic of simply domestic' tastes guarantee of all human. virtue which © she often produced subsequently in his favor, : brilliant, though not often more cai stic, than that of Miss Ingleby, and young beautics may have been more bewitching than Jessie, who sat fac ing Captain Medway with a quiet glow in her face like the glow in heart of a blush-rose, for the most part silent, yet occasionally contri- an appropriate observation, ment at the mirthful sallies between. the brother and sister; but no one present thought it possible to im- prove these things. Nor in the di Position of the four at table afterward, did it appear strange stein" sonata, declining his hes turn her leaves. Then, Jessie bein in her old place commanding a Vie' of the lawn, Captain Medway near her, and during the allegro movement spoke to her a low voice which she heard through all the storm of music. Jessie t!co up and replied also in a low tone, No one could have heard wha they were saying, or divined from stood a|their faces what the tenor of tie: might be; Jessie's eyes ¥ very soft and her page face was expressive of a happy there was o subdued fire in Capt Medway's eyes and a suppressed citement in the set of his~ featur even a faint quiver of the lip Bi concealed . by the heavy moustache which might mean a qui respon to the passionate flow of the son Miss Ingleby was Bee so hee something else. The fiery music poured: on, gazed out silently into the g beart of the linden with an inten consciousness of a living human soul near her, a soul whose wild puls tions, were in some way mingled wi hers; she was keenly aware of a ' words a g strong miiaic like the wild beating of a hum heart; she turned tk fa) round and round her slender. fin as if working some occult cha no longer, and with a sudden turn of the head met the clouded of Medway's gaze, which fell hers. Then he spoke again, replied tranquilly, and he away with a slight agers the ¢ movement ended and Miss bt paused a moment before begir the beautiful long-drawn chord the adagio, when she found Capta Medway by her side murmuring 80) words of appreciation that she too absorbed in her music to hee (To be Continued.) r ; Pil. ; "Sometimes,"' sighed the man is wedded to a woman with « mi of her own, "I think my wife mt take me for a pneumatic tyre, way she is blowing me up time.' : -