JUj^E:3 
MOORE’S  RURAL  NEW-YORKER. 
3SS 
GRASSES. 
O,  LiFic  Ihnt  liiileth  iii  the  sotT, 
How  Bweet  sud  bountiful  thou  art ; 
Like  Aaron's  mystic  almonrt  rod, 
lly  niirai’Ic  the  prasBCs  etart. 
They  creef  iihont  the  naked  land. 
In  silenev  shod  Ihcy  nimbly  run ; 
They  clolho  Ihc  rook  and  deck  the  sand. 
And  spread  their  velvets  in  Ihe  sun. 
Upon  a  mufhty  hxun  they  ply. 
With  shiillle  flying  far  and  wide. 
And  woven  in  thia  la|>eBtry 
See  butlercii|-8  and  daisies  pied. 
O,  sweet  this  green  and  humble  homo 
For  all  »"rtrtU'a  yimng  that  ship  and  play. 
This  dewy  footatojl  'iioath  tlni  domo 
Where  low  at  eve  Iho  cattle  pray. 
O,  .sweet  thia  tonil,  maternal  care. 
For  naineloss  weeds  that  flower  and  fade ; 
And  teeming  millions  flourish  there. 
The  weakest  races  tiod  has  made. 
O,  sweet  to  think  when  day  is  done, 
And  tired  we  seek  the  common  breast, 
Like  all  thatganc  iiimti  the  sun 
Our  frames  beneath  this  cloak  shall  rest. 
I.-t  Uf/Kstrt  Lftnird. 
®l)t  ^torir-^fllrr. 
THAT  AWFUL  SMITH. 
tCOutlnued  from  page  S-W,  last  No  1 
CHAPTER  III. 
I  KNKiv  It,  It)  that  moment  when  our  eyes  met. 
1  knew  th.nt.  I,  Francis  Hrasilyl,  world-worn,  case- 
harUenodcynluof  soven-aml -twenty,  was  to  low 
this  woman —tliAt  I  did  lovo  her  already. 
natlior  tall,  graoi  fnl  as  Diana  In  her  statuesque 
summer  draperlen,  n 
“  Helen  of  Ibolow  arch'd  brow. 
And  amber  hair,  and  dewy  violet  eyes 
this  was  Mrs.  Wybrowe  as  I  saw  Jier  that;  day. 
My  Fate  wasspeaklng  tome  -half  a  dozen  wonl.s 
—of  course;  and  1  was  drawling  coininouiilace  lu 
answer;  and  then  we  were  all  three  strolUnK  ou 
—I  beside  uei'. 
If  I  had  been  blind  I  should  have  loved  licr  ftw 
her  voice— her  voice  that,  with  It.s  weird,  thrlllluK. 
InelTable  sweetnesit,  si-nt  the  blooil  with  a  loag- 
forgottim  Rlilver  tlirough  my  veins  as  I  llsteuwl 
to  It. 
Side  by  side  with  my  Fate,  oblivious  of  Aunt 
Medusa  and  Mlai  Hoodie,  l  lounged  down  that 
plea8.ant,  shady  walk, 
I  loved  this  Helen  Wybrowe,  this  woman  with 
a  strange  history,  whom  1  had  known  barely  live 
minutes,  .Ts  I  had  never  loved  womfui  before,  as  I 
never  should  again. 
It  was  sudden  enough  and  absurd  cnongh  (n  roe 
this  passion  that.  I  felt.  All  the  more  rea.son  for 
hilling  It  Jealously. 
I'reseiilly  we  eamo  to  a  little  roud-point  where, 
under  a  liig  tree,  there  w;is  a  provLslnn  <>f  gardeu- 
chalrs.  “  .Shall  we  re.st  a  little,  Amy  ?”  Mrs.  Wy- 
hrowe  said,  “  It's  loo  hot  to  keep  walking." 
Ho  we  all  three  sat  down  under  the  big  beech. 
“  You  know  Ml.ss  Hoodie?"  Mrs.  Oswestry  asked. 
“  1  saw  you  with  her  on  tho  croquet  lawn  ju.st 
now.  Ilel  la  Boodle  Is  decidedly  a  prize  matcti,  M  r. 
Urasdyl.” 
“  She  will  be,  in  a  yr.ar  or  two,"  I  said,  thinking 
ol  Hie  bambei'te.sque  symptoms  I  had  noted  in  the 
damsel  half  an  hour  ago. 
"Ah!  .you  mean  when  her  mother  dies?"  siild 
Mrs.  <)swe.stry,  Hgrccably  mlauiulerstandlng  me; 
and  so  the.  talk  rattled  merrily  ou  until  I  began  to 
wish  Mm.  Oswestry  ai.  .lerldio,  when  sho  sud¬ 
denly  erled,  "  Ah  1  there's  Onrdori  Murray!  The 
very  ni.tn  I've  been  wauling  to  .see  all  day." 
And  she  made  slgnal-s  witli  her  parasol  loan 
Individual  In  the  distance,  wlio  persevcrlngly  de¬ 
clined  to  see  them. 
"  How  stupid  he  is!"  she  erlud,  at  last,  piuvok- 
ed;  “heM  .actually  moving  away.  1  must  catch 
him.  I'll  be  buck  In  a  moment,  Helen." 
And,  heedless  of  my  (not  very  strongly  urged) 
ofTor  to  bring  till!  reeah  ltrant  Murray  to  her  ju(!S- 
cnec.  M rs.  Oswest  ry  set  off  I  n  Immediate  jmrsidt 
toward  a  corner,  and  disappeared. 
I  don't  reiui.'UiJjer  what  Helen  and  I  talked  about 
when  wo  were  left  alone,  or  how  long  we  sat 
under  tho  big  beech. 
I  know  she  spoke,  and  that  every  now  and  then 
the  great  vdolet  ci-es  turned  slow’ly  upon  me ;  and, 
when  she  was  silent, 
*'  Filled  witli  light 
Tho  interval  of  Kouud,” 
I  was  In  Elysium,  and  lost  the  count  of  time.  A 
step  soft  and  caH Ike,  that  neither  of  us  hoard, 
caiuc  down  the  walk.  A  dry  brand)  eraeked  under 
the  cautious  li'oad,  and  then  wo  both  looked  up. 
A  man  passed  us.  1  know  him  lii.si  iiietlvely.  The 
lloi'co  black  eyes,  eo))tracted  in  their  wrath,  which 
met  mine  In  one  brief,  vindictive  glare,  could  only 
belong  to  one  man. 
That  Ulhe.  dark  personage  with  the  feline  tread 
and  the  ugly  yellow  physiognomy,  must  needs  be 
tlio  hero  of  Charlie  Twtsiletou's  stoi-y,  the  man 
who  bud  bought  up  the  mbliramentof  Helen  \Vy- 
hrowe's  fate— .Alvarez  Smith. 
He  never  looked  at  her  this  time,  only  at  mo.  I 
wonder  whether  the  man’s  Instinct  told  him,  even 
then,  that  I  loved  her  ? 
He  went  slowly  by,  1  am  not  the  least  given  to 
superstition;  but  1  perfectly  understood,  la  that 
mmnent,  the  Italian  theory  of  tho  mal’ocvhia,  and 
the  balmy  summer  air  seemed  purer  when  my 
enemy  passed  out  of  my  sight. 
Eor  I  felt  that  Alvarez  Smith  and  I  were  foes, 
and  mortal  foes,  from  that  hour;  that  a  duel— It 
))ilglit  be  a  duel  to  the  death — had  commenced 
betwiien  us.  You  laugh  at  l  his.  iierhaps,  who  read 
It,  tranquilly  akeptJealuf  anything  In  theshape  of 
melodrama  In  this  age  of  realism. 
Ue-adlng  It  loo.  I  )nlgbt  do  the  same;  but  that 
clay,  1  bad  beaidaud  seen  aulTlrlentof  Helen  VVy- 
brnwe's  lejectod  prelemlanl  to  bo  convinced  that 
this  wa.s  n.s  nbsoluio  a  fact  ns  that  I  drew  breath. 
Mrs.  W'ytirowe  rose  a  little  pale;  tlird.nrk circle 
under  her  eyes  more  iilulnly  visible;  a  sort  or 
liuvtrd  look  upon  her  face  that  made  my  pulso 
throb  angrily. 
"Amj  .seems  to  have  forgotten  me,” she  said; 
"  let  us  go  and  look  tor  ber." 
Wc  walked  across  the  crocpict-lawn,  for  a  while 
sllemly. 
Then  she  said,  “  you  know  that  man  who  passed 
me  just  now  ?•’ 
"  I  know  lilm  noic,"  i  .answered ;  “  I  never  saw 
him  before,  and  only  heard  of  bis  c.vlstcnco  two 
hour-s  ago.” 
Her  pale,  check  nnsbed  painfully. 
“Then you  have  heard — ?" 
“  Everything.”  I  nnswered,  slopping  her.  “There 
Is  Airs.  Oswestr.v  yonder.” 
So  she  was,  wiri)  the  unhappy  OoVtlon  Murmy 
,  and  Aunt  Medus.a. 
Mrs.  Wybrowe  ciulekened  her  pace  and  Siild 
nothing  more  till  she  was  safe  under  Amy  Oswes- 
firy's  wing  again.  Then  a  knot  of  men  gathered 
xviund  her  and  .A nut  .Medusa  boro  down  upon  mo 
and  CiiiTled  me  aw, ay  captive. 
“  Where  la  Bella,  Frank  •/"  she  said. 
“  Ealing  strawberries  and  Ice  cream  over  there," 
,  I  answered,  nodding  towards  the  tent  where  tli’o 
•  croipiet  players  were. 
“All !  and  what  do  you  think  about  her?" 
“  How  van  f  think  about,  iicr  And  In  truth  It 
did  seem  preposterous.  I-'ancy  a  human  IntcUoet 
occupying  Itself  about  Bella  Hoodie ! 
Aunt  Aledusn  liadn’t  the  faintest  notion  of  what 
1  meant. 
“Hill!  will  be  just  the  girl  for — ”  she  heg.an. 
“Foi  (loustii  Tom,”  r  Iniernipted.  “Yes;  the 
two  chami)lon.s  will  pair  admirably.  .She'll  bo 
Mrs.  Thomas  Clay  pool  b(!lore  the  erocpiet  season 
Is  over." 
I  was  longl  agio  got  h.ack  to  that  group  round 
Mrs.  Wybrowe  from  which  Aunt  Medusa  was 
bearing  me  away;  and  1  dare  say  something  of 
Hie  Iinpallonce  I  felt  manifested  Itself  through 
the  elaboi  al  e  languor  of  my  tone ;  and  so  my  cap¬ 
tor  on  a  .sudden  eoueelved,  a  wlldly-vagne  notion 
that  I  was  Inollned  to  be  envious  of  Cousin  Tom. 
“  There’s  no  fear  of  that,”  she  said.  “  You  must 
go  to  llp'lr  country  place  when  you  take  your  va¬ 
cation.  Mrs.  Hoodie  will  send  you  a  special  Inrl- 
tallon.  I  knew  you  would  like  BcUa.  And  now 
take  1110  to  got  an  lee." 
sue  ivas  poslUvely  hugging  hei-self  In  tho  suc¬ 
cess  of  her  little  game ! 
r  let  her  continue  that  exerclso  tabor  heart'.s 
content  without  any  fiirthor  attempt  to  demon- 
sti'ata  to  her  that  It  was  by  no  means  called  for, 
and  look  her  away,  as  l  was  bid,  to  get  an  lee. 
.She  ale  ihroo  barge,  ones.  Then  .Mrs.  Hoodie 
carno  up  and  glared  apoplectlcnlly  at  me  througli 
her  double  oyeglass  when  I  was  presented  to  her. 
T’hen  .-?/«'  uto  lees,  wliieli  I  had  to  fetch  for  her. 
When  they  Jiad  both  t,rled  ihclr  illgestlon  sulll- 
clently  lu  tilts  way,  tho  two  went  off  together  to 
another  tent  to  cat  more  lees,  and  I  was  act  at 
liberty. 
The  croquet  law  n  was  ne.arly  dew'rted  when  I 
crossed  It.  Valso  music  Moating  out  In  the  still 
air  through  the  opim  l•’l•o^ell  wiiulows  of  Mrs. 
HuiiMiigdon'H  drawing-room  c.xplalned  this  phe¬ 
nomenon.  Near  the  U'lorway,  wll ha  fresh  knot 
of  men  .about  her,  sUxid  Mrs.  Wybrowe.  Just  as 
?  entered,  some  nian  aski^d  her  for  the  valse  they 
had  Ju.st  eommoneed.  It  was  Hordon  .Murray,  au 
admirable  iier/urmer.  I  wa.s  near  enough  to  hear 
her  refu.Hal ;  but,,  making  as  though  I  heard  It  not, 
jirorfered  a  similar  request  the  next  inomeut. 
The  Siwne  riifusal  w.is  on  her  lips  when  tho 
angr.v  blond  rushed  swiltly  Into  ner  face;  sho 
laiwed  her  head  silently  and  put  her  hand  upon 
my  arm.  As  I  turned,  J  saw  .\lvarez  Smith  watch¬ 
ing  us.  The  nc.vt  moment  my  arm  w.as  close  about 
her  and  we  were  swinging  around  tho  valae  clndc. 
I  quite  undorstoofl  to  wliatl  owed  that  valse;  she 
lead  read  a  threat  in  her  pei'secut.or’s  eyes  and  had 
rebelled  against  It. 
As  wo  had  passed  tho  place  where  l  had  seen 
Alvarez  Hmlth  standi  ug  tho  .second  time,  her  hand  ! 
closed  suddenly  ou  mine.  1 
“  You  are  tired,  Hhall  we  stop  ?”  I 
“Mo,  no!”  she  murmured.  “Don't  stop.  Keen  > 
on.” 
And  wc  kept  ou,  till  the  “  Soldaten-Ucder”  came 
to  an  end.  1 
“  That  fellow  annoys  you,"  I  said,  as  wo  wlilrled  < 
by  him  again.  “  I  believe  he  has  the  evil  eyo  my-  i 
self.”  t 
“Don't  talk  of  him!”  And  again  she  trembled.  1 
“It  you  bid  me  nob-no.  Hut  it  Is  Intolerable,  t 
you  know.  And  quite  preventiblo.  Why  should  c 
you  permit - ”  i 
“  Hush !”  A  lid  as  she  sfiokc  she  lifted  her  eyes  £ 
In  that  slow,  languid  fashion  she  had,  up  to  mluo. 
“Hush!  Don’t  let  us  speak  or  tlilnk  of  him  o 
noil).”  ,1 
There  ta  something  stronger  than  Ice  water  in  I 
the  veins  even  of  a  cynic  of  seven-and-lwcnty,  li 
after  all.  A  llro  .shot  through  mine  at  her  delic¬ 
ious  emphasis  or  the  “  now."  iier  head  drooped  u 
towards  my  shoulder  again,  and  she  seemed  to  t 
nestle  hkc  a  tired  bird  lu  my  arm.s.  a 
“  What  a  valso  this  is!"  she  said  presently.  “  i  11 
think  no  one  has  my  step  like  you."  a 
“  Y'ou  will  trust  yourself  to  mo  again,  then  i”  s 
“If  you  choose.”  si 
The  valse  ended,  wo  went  away  into  the  con-  a 
servalory  to  sit  out  the  square  dance  that  follow-  I 
ed.  We  sat  out  a  good  many  there.  si 
The  evil  eye  lit  ou  us  once  or  twice.  I  think  wo 
were  both  too  happy  to  trouble  ourselves  much 
about  that. 
“only  tills  dance,  Amy."  Mrs.  Wybrowe  said, 
presenlly,  when  Mrs.  tiswestry  bad  uneartlied  us 
and  was  proposing  departure.  And  we  had  “only 
th.at  dance.” 
I  was  wrapping  her  cloak  about  her  In  the  hall. 
“Th.at  rose  will  be  dead  before  you  get  Ip  Park 
Avenue,  Airs.  Wybrowr,'’  I  said.  “  AVlll  you  give 
It  me  10  mark  lo-d.ay  with?" 
It  was  tho  white  roso  she  wore  in  her  hair  that 
1  asked  for.  Hhc  gave  It  mo  without  a  word.  Then 
Airs.  Oswestry  swept  by  Us  lo  tho  c.arrlngc;  wc 
followed. 
I  held  ber  hand  In  long,  closo  farewell  clasp; 
then  till)  carriage  door  was  shut  upon  her ;  and 
Alvarez  Smith  and  1  wore  standing  side  by  side 
on  the  gravel,  walphlng  her  drive  away. 
CHAPTER  IV. 
The  season  was  over;  New  York  was  emptying 
fa.st;  duns  pressing;  (ho  beat  InUUerable.  How- 
3  belt  I  abode  still  in  Hie  Sahara  of  Bond  street. 
Aunt  Aledusa  bud  gone  Into  Hie  country  with  tho 
r  Hoodies,  having  extracted  from  me  a  promise  to 
follow  r  ouly  Intended  to  keep  If- 
I  The  “If  ”  was  In  Park  Avenue.  Mrs.  oswe-stry 
.  bad  not  yet  made  her  move,  besIlaUng  between 
1  long  lUauch  and  Saratoga,  and  I  was  watching 
)  the  turn  of  the  .scale.  For  with  Mrs.  Oswestry 
would  go  Helen  Wybrowe,  And  whore  Helen  Wy- 
browo  w'ent  1  meant  to  follow.  I  had  not  spoken 
>  yet,  though  nearly  a  month  had  passoa  since  that 
I  flay  at  Astoria  1  had  marked  witli  a  white  rose. 
She  had  hanUy  given  me  a  chaiieo.  And  yet  she 
knew,  who  knew  nic  as  1  was,  that  1  loved  her— 
,  had  lovea  her  from  the  very  momentour  eyes  met 
,  for  tho  llrst  time.  Ami  I  knew  riiy  strange, Willful, 
paaslonate  darling- my  darling  Helen,  who  was 
,  like  no  other— 1  knew  sho  loved  me  with  tho  one 
love  of  her  life.  Ouly  between  licr  loving  me  and 
my  winning  her  there  was  raunli.  Nevertheless, 
the  mask  we  boHi  wore,  neforo  each  other  as  lie- 
fore  others,  was  getting  too  stilling  to  be  worn 
much  longer,  it  fell  from  both  of  us  at  last. 
I  had  been  silting  with  ber  In  Mrs.  Oswestry’s 
mornlng-ronm,  under  the  shelter  of  the  sumshudes, 
among  Hie  (lowers,  one  aa.v  for  nearly  an  lionr! 
Commonplaces  bad  langnisbcd  and  died.  There 
bad  been  asllenee,  wlileh  these  heavy  violet  eyes 
lined  divinely  enough,  hut  whlcli  both  of  us  knew 
must  be  broken ;  and  only  In  one  way. 
I  looked  up  Into  her  face,  fn  its  passlou-pallor, 
In  the  I  rcmbllug  Up,  lu  Hk!  searcn-reslrulnerl  fears 
tlial  had  gatlicred  slowly  tp  tho  eyes,  f  read  what 
made  nn-  tako  ber  swiftly  m  my  arms;  and  then 
tlio  silence  wan  broken  by  tho  sweet  sound  of  her 
own  name.  “Helen I” 
Hho  trembled -but  not  with  fear.  And  her 
head,  witli  Us  dladcrn  of  amber  h.alr,  .sank  down 
upon  my  breast;  and  l  bent  mine  till  my  Ups 
touched  hers  and  clung  to  them.  I  had  woii  her! 
Notyiyl. 
Tho  np.xt,  moirionl  she  had  freed  herself, 
"Ohl  why  have  you  done  tills  7”  sho  sobbed— 
walled  almost. 
“Why?  Hccauso  I  lovo  you,  Helen.  Heoauso 
you  lovo  mo.  A  ml  because  you  and  I  know  this 
ts  so." 
“Yes,”  she  murmured;  "yea -you  lovo  me.  I 
know  that.  I  knew  It  I, hat  day'  at  Astoria.  As  no 
one  ever  has  loved— ever  will  lovo  me.  I  know 
that. " 
“  And  you  lovo  me,  Helen.  A’ou  know  that,  too.” 
"  Yes ;  I  love  you  I”  she  cried,  passionately.  “  l 
liiiow  that,  tpo.” 
“And  yet  you  ask  me”- 1  began,  so  far  off  my 
head  as  to  be  going  to  argue  with  her. 
“  Because  Hits  should  nover  have  been.  AU  be¬ 
tween  us  must  ond  here,  and  now.” 
“In  heaven's  name,  why?"  I  broke  In,  rather 
mad  with  this  piece  of  feminine  cruelty.  “Why 
must  It?" 
“  Frank,”  she  said,  coolly  now,  “  Frank,  this  Is 
folly.  You  know  my  .slory.  Y’ou  cannot  marry  a 
beggar  ns  I  shall  be." 
“Nor  j'ou,  It  appeal's.” 
“Kelflsli  and  cruel !” 
Even  at  that  momentl  couldn't  but  admire  that 
truly  feminine  I'clort. 
Hho  went  on. 
“  I  ?  Ami  thinking  of  myself  7  A  ud  yet  this  Is 
my  fault.  I  knew  what  has  happened  must  hajv 
pen.  Ye.s;  It  Is  1  who  have,  been  scUlsh.  I  knew 
It;  and  f  ought.  Hut — oU  I  Frank,  1  "know  you 
loved  me;  and  my  loveless  life  seemed  so  bitter— 
so  bitter!  And - ” 
And  here  she  brokn  down,  sobbing. 
Aly  wUlfiil,  passionate  darling  1  She  was  trying 
to  persuade  lierselt  that  sho  was  acting  nobly  and 
dlslnleresmdly ;  and,  being  noways  Iltted  for  such 
self-martyrdom,  was  faUliig  signally,  Hhe  ouglit 
to  have  nipped  this  love  of  mine  sharply  in  the 
bud,  but  lucked  the  will.  And  now  she  was  trying 
tosaciiflcolland  ber  own  love  on  the  shrluc  of 
duty— now  when  she  wa.s  my  own,  when  she  had 
rested  her  hciul  ujiou  my  breast,  when  sho  had 
given  her  Ups  to  mine. 
And  .so  my  Helen — who  was,  Indeed,  my  very 
own— told  rue  I  was  not  to  marry  a  heggar;  told 
me  that  lor  my  sake,  our  love  story  was  to  end 
here— In  short,  told  me  all  a  woman  tells  a  inan  In  ' 
hke  case.  *  , 
But  she  told  me,  too,  by  every  word  and  look,  •, 
unwittingly  but  unmistakably,  that  I  should  be  a 
triple  fool  u  I  lost  her  now— this  be-all  and  end-  \ 
all  of  my  life ;  this  woman  who  would  make  my 
life  worth  the  living,  l  didn't  repeat  my  folly  of  i 
attempting  to  argue  with  her.  Her  hand  was 
strong  euougli  against  me  as  It  was  without  such  i 
strengthening.  I  didn’t  take  her  In  my  arras  again  e 
and  stlUo  her  feeble  special  pleading  with  kisses. 
I  let  her  say  her  say.  And  then,  when  sho  had  ] 
sunk  back  into  the  low,  deep  chair  weak  and 
trembling  and  defenceless  again,  I  knelt  beside 
ber;  and  holding  fast  Inmlnetbesoft  little  band  I 
never  meant  m  letgo,  i  told  her  bow  it  lumst  needs 
fare  wit  h  me  If  she  bad  lior  wuy.  And  I  was  con- 
querlug  what  I  knew  all  along  was  my  own  of 
right;  Hie  violet  eye.s  were  full  of  happy  teai-s; 
tho  worda  1  ICMiked  to  hear  already  trembling  on 
the  full  lips  that  bad  grown  meek  again,  when— 
there  w.as  a  rustic  of  woman's  draperies  and  Mrs. 
Oswestry  bore  down  upon  us. 
And  Helen  rose ;  and,  before  I  could  slay  her. 
had  fled  away  swiftly  upon  her  feet,  leaving  mo 
to  fact'  my  lady  alone. 
The  which  1  did  as  best  I  might. 
For  a  while  Mrs.  Oswestry  looked  grave  and  tu- 
dlclal ;  then,  by  degrees,  benignant  hut  mildly 
reproaclifnl ;  wlicn  1  look  my  leave,  proteotlvo 
and  honestly  propitious.  It  was  aiTaiiged  between 
us  that  I  should  come  Ui  Park  Avenuo  early  tho 
next  day. 
At  a  frightfully  iiudiie  hour  1  drove  there.  A 
coupe  hud  just  pulh'd  up  at  the  door;  the  lato 
occupant  was  speaking  lo  the  servant  In  the  hall. 
I  wius  just  In  time  Ui  hoar  Hie  functionary’s  an¬ 
swer  to  the  question  put  to  him. 
"No,  sir.  They  left  Uiwii  lor  the  country  last 
evening." 
'I'lio  other  swung  round  on  his  heel  with  a  llerro 
“Ciirnjo!”  and  again  I  stood  f.acc  to  face  with 
Alvarez  Hmlth,  the  man  with  tho  evil  eye.— [Con¬ 
cluded  next  week. 
- ♦♦♦ - - — 
THE  BRIDE’S  TEIAL. 
•  It  Is  strange  whut  dlllereiit  estlmal(!S  people 
>  will  put  on  a  man’s  character,  according  to  the 
■  eyes  with  which  they  may  view  him.  Inlhoopln- 
/  Ion  of  some  Mr.  Hcnjauiln  Heiiedlet— not  otir  hero 
i  exaetly,  but.  Hie  next  thing  to  ir,,  ids  uncle— was  a 
1  gontlernii  11,  a  scholar  and  a  philanthropist ;  while 
!  oHiers,  quite  as  well  quulliled  to  reason  and  de¬ 
cide,  wonder  that  .such  n  monster  was  allowed  to 
walk  the  earth  unrhalieuged.  For  ohl  Hen  Hene- 
dlct  was  Just  the  sort  of  man  to  provoke  and  ploaso 
In  alternatlonR— a  Imman  March  day,  with  streaks 
of  sunshine  and  chilli  ng  gusts  sandwiched  Hirongh 
his  iialure.  People  who  knew  him  liked  him  pass¬ 
ing  well,  hut  ItsomeHmes  took  a  llfe-lime  to  know 
him  as  he  really  wa.s. 
“Y'ou  will  he  sure  to  like  my  uncle,  darling,’’ 
.said  Hugh  Benedlet  to  ids  young  wife.  “Hols 
eccentric,  but  lie  Is  sterling.” 
Hachcl  did  not  answer,  but  her  blue  eyes  were 
wistful  and  full  of  porplexlly.  t.ncle  Hen,  whom 
sho  had  never  aeon,  but  of  whom  ;dio  bad  beard 
much,  w.as  to  her  an  inscrutable  rUldlo,  whom  sho 
feared  more  than. she  was  willing  to  acknowledge. 
For  Hugh's  future  dejiended  to  a  certain  extent 
upon  I'ncle  Hen  Benedlet,  and  with  Hugh’s  future 
her  own  wa.s  bound  Inseparably. 
Hbc  was  a  ralr,  fresh-looking  girl,  with  velvety 
cheekH,  bronzi'-brlght  hair,  and  feu  I  urea  as  correct 
and  delicately  cut  as  a,  cameo.  Hugh  was  quite 
certain  that  llncla  Ben  could  notaoc  her  without 
loving  her;  hut  then  these  young  husbands  are 
not  apt  to  be  inipnrlial  Judges! 
She  wa.s  Ktuing  in  llie  tlredlglil.,  at  tlieir  lodg¬ 
ings,  when  Hie  old  gentleman  first  beheld  her; 
and  the  only  warning  she  bad  of  bis  presence  she’ 
saw  rellected  In  Hugh’s  eyes. 
“  My  dear,  how  do  .you  do?"  said  the  old  gentlo- 
nian,  klsiiUig  Hachelon  holh  cheeks. 
And  .sjio  thought  he  was  not  so  terrible,  after 
all  I 
He  turned  to  Hugh  when  he  had  thus  uncere¬ 
moniously  made  himself  acijualntea  with  his  new 
nlectsln-law, 
“  Well,  young  man,  are  you  ready  to  leave  these 
lodgings  and  go  to  your  new  home  ?"  ho  a.sked  ; 
for  bo  It  known  that  Hie  old  gentleman  had  given 
Hugh  and  Hachcl  a  wedding  present  of  a  new 
house,  wherein  they  wero  to  II vo. 
"  (^iilte.  sir,"  Hugh  answered,  cheerily. 
“  Shall  It  bo  lo-morrow  7” 
“  Y'es," 
".Ml  fight.” 
And  Mr.  Benedict  sat  down  to  spend  the  even¬ 
ing  and  enjoy  himself. 
*'  Well,  sir?”  said  Hugh,  when  his  uncle  was 
taking  leave,  and  paused  on  tho  front  door  stens 
to  light  a  cigar.  ‘ 
“  Well,  sir?”  said  Uiiclo  Benedict,  (ralmly. 
"  How  do  you  like  ber*/"  asked  Hugh. 
“How can  1  tell'/"  demanded  tho  old  gentle¬ 
man,  Irritably.  “She’s  jiretty  to  look  at;  so  is  a 
china  dull  nr  a  white  kitten!  It  Isn’t  always  the 
prettiest  calicoes  that  wash  the  best.  Good  even¬ 
ing!” 
And  Hugh  Henedlct,  albeit  lie  wa.s  very  fond  of 
his  uncle,  did  not  know  whcHior  to  be  vexed  or 
not. 
Early  tho  next  morning,  however,  Uncle  Ben 
made  his  appearance  before  the  young  couple 
breathless  and  eager.  ’ 
“  Trunks  packed,  eh  ?’’ 
“  All  but  tho  last  OIK!,  uncle;— and  K.achnl  lifted 
her  pretty  head  out  of  the  tray,  as  you  may  have 
seen  a  red  clover  blossom  rise  up  from  beneath  a 
child’s  footstep. 
“I’m  going  to  take  you  down  to  Hloomdale  my¬ 
self,  uiy  dear,”  said  1..  ncio  Ben.  “Hugh,  I  want 
you  to  go  Off  to  Canterbury  with  these  letters. 
They’re  of  Importance.  I’d  go  myself  If  |  were 
ten  years  younger;  but  sudden  journeys  don't 
agree  with  old  bones  like  mine." 
Hugb  looked  aghast  at  the  proposal.  Rachel 
tumetl  pale. 
"  Cannot  tho  bitslncss  bo  postponed,  sir  ?”  said 
Hugh  hesitatingly. 
“No,  It  cant!”  replied  Cncle  Ben,  curtly,  “if 
you  don’t  want  to  go,  say  so.  I  dare  say  1  can  11  nd 
some  one  else  to  oblige  me !" 
“  Of  course  I  shaU  go,"  said  Hugh.  “  Hut  about 
Rachel - ” 
“  I  supiwse  I’m  old  enough  to  take  care  of  a  lit- 
