JULY  IS 
OORE’S  RURAL  NEW-YORKER. 
THAT  CALF, 
An  old  f»nnrr,  one  morn,  hurried  out  to  hie  bam. 
iVhere  the  cattle  were  standinir,  and  said. 
While  they  trembled  with  fright—"  Now  which  of  you, 
la«t  night, 
Shut  the  bam-door,  while  I  wae  in  bed  f  ” 
Each  one  of  them  all  ebook  hie  head. 
Now  the  little  Spot,  *he  wae  down  in  the  lot. 
And  the  way  the  rest  did  wae  a  shame ; 
For  not  one,  night  before,  eaw  her  close  up  the  door. 
But  they  said  that  she  did  all  the  eame ; 
For  they  always  made  her  bear  the  blame. 
Said  the  horse.  Dapple  gray,  '*  I  was  not  up  this  way 
Last  night,  as  I  now  recollect 
And  the  bull,  passing  by,  tossed  his  boms  very  high. 
And  said,  “  Where’s  the  one  to  object. 
If  I  say,  'Us  that  calf,  I  suspect  ?" 
"  It  is  too  wicked  now,”  said  the  old  brindle  cow. 
"  To  accuse  honest  folks  of  such  tricks 
Said  the  cock  in  the  tree,  "I  am  sure  't  wasn’t  me 
AU  the  sheep  just  said  “  bah  there  were  six— 
And  they  thought  now  that  ealf’t  in  a  fix ! 
"  Of  coiirso  wo  all  know  *t.  wae  the  wrong  thing  to  do,” 
Cried  the  chickens ,  "  Of  course,”  mewed  the  oat ; 
“  I  suppose,”  said  the  mule,  "  some  folks  think  me  a 
fool, 
But  I’m  not  quite  so  simple  as  that 
Well,  that  cat/  never  knows  what  she’s  at !” 
.lust  then  the  poor  calf,  who  was  always  the  laugh 
And  tho  Jest  of  the  yard,  came  in  sight  ;— 
"  Did  you  shut  my  barn-door  *”  said  the  farmer  once 
more: 
And  abe  answered,  "  I  did  air,  last  night. 
For  I  thought  that  to  close  it  wae  right.” 
Now  each  beast  shook  his  head ;  “  She’ll  catch  it,"  they 
said, 
“  Serve  her  right,  for  her  meddlesome  way.” 
Cried  the  farmer.  *'  Come  here,  little  boesy,  my  dear. 
You  have  done  what  1  cannot  repay. 
And  your  fortune  ia  made  from  to-day. 
“  Very  strangely,  laet  night,  I  forgot  the  door  quite. 
And  if  you  had  not  closed  it  so  neat. 
All  the  oolta  bad  slipped  in,  and  gone  straight  to  the 
bln. 
And  got  what  they  ought  not  to  eat  ;— 
They’d  have  foAindered  themeolvea  upon  wheat.” 
Then  each  beast  of  them  all,  began  loudly  to  bawl. 
The  mule  tried  to  smile,  tho  cook  crow, 
"  Little  Spotty,  my  dear,  you’re  the  favorite  here.” 
They  all  cried,  "  We’re  so  glad  it  was  you  I” 
But  that  calf  only  answered  them,  “  boo !” 
[  Phabt.  Cary. 
MRS,  VANDERDUYNCK. 
LETTERS  FROM  ROGER  FLOYD  TO  HOPE  STANHOPE. 
BT  MISS  g.  W.  OLNET. 
IConoluded  from  page  29,  laat  number.] 
VI, 
Riverbend,  August  30. 
Yoijk  letter,  In  answer  to  my  confession  of  ac¬ 
cursed  folly,  was  a  sensible  one,  Holt,  and  a  logi¬ 
cal  one,  too.  But  talk  to  me  no  more  of  a  wife— 
of  a  fireside— of  sweet  home  Joys.  Speak  rather 
of  effort  and  tho  results  of  effort.  Undoubtedly  it 
is  pleasant  to  be  free  to  introduce  romance  Into 
one's  life;  but  I  am  not  one  of  those  men  born  to 
tread  on  roses. 
But  I  will  confess  this  much.  Holt Were  Eve¬ 
lyn  poor  and  obscure,  she  should  have  been  taken 
to  my  heart  forever  that  night  of  the  ball.  Ido 
not  suppose  that  mine  Is  a  character  formed  to 
make  many  women  happy,  yet  I  could  make  her 
happy.  I  am  not  a  visionary  fool,  yet  I  know  I 
could  make  her  happy.  But  she  has  eighty  thou¬ 
sand  a  year,  Holt,  and  I— I  at  my  beat  can  make 
about  three  thousand.  A  gulf  divides  us.  It  Is 
now  Improbable  that  I  shall  ever  see  her  again. 
She  has  gone  to  Newport  and  the  boys  tell  me  she 
sails  for  Europe  la  October.  Be  It  so. 
You  wished  me  to  tell  you  the  sequel  to  the 
night  of  the  hall.  Did  you  rmt  then  understand 
that  that  was  the  final  close— that  further  evolve- 
ments  were  rendered  impossible  by  the  fact  that 
when  I  went  to  bed  that  night  I  had  turned  iny 
back  upon  the  allurement  that  was  emaaculaiing 
me?  I  rose  betimes  next  day.  Iknew  the  boys 
would  be  peevish  and  fretful  alter  their  late 
houre  and  their  unaccustomed  indulgence  at  sup¬ 
per.  Accordingly,  to  turn  their  thoughts,  I  pro¬ 
posed  an  excursion  to  the  quarry  and  took  them 
five  miles  to  see  the  curious  geological  formatloas 
lately  e-xposed  there,  of  wlilch  I  have  already 
sent  you  an  account.  l  round  an  invfiallon  from 
Mrs.  Hunt  to  take  tea  with  herself  and  Mrs.  Van- 
clerduynck  on  my  return,  but  1  sent  a  courteous 
refusal.  Next  morning  the  boys  and  I  grappled 
with  study  in  good  earnest  and  for  the  next  five 
days  I  sc.arcely  left  the  schcxdroom  until  dusk. 
One  a£f  ernoon,  as  I  was  setting  copies  for  Ainert, 
I  discovered  that  one  of  my  sleeve  buttons  had 
vanished  and  remembered  at  oncj  that  I  had 
heard  something  fall  as  I  crossed  the  terrace  after 
going  to  the  garden  to  pick  fruit  at  luncheon ;  so 
accordingly  I  dispatched  John  to  search  for  It.  As 
he  went  out  he  opened  the  door  upon  Mrs.  van- 
derduynck,  who  had,  I  fancy,  been  standing  out¬ 
side  waiting  for  courage  to  kuock.  She  now  en¬ 
tered  timidly  and  addressed  me  without  raising 
her  eyes  to  my  face,  asking  If  the  boys  could  drive 
with  her  too — . 
“  I  have  no  objection,”!  returned,  going  on  with 
my  writing.  “  When  do  you  wish  to  set  out?” 
“  I  ordered  the  ponies  at  three  o’clock,”  said  she 
"  Go  then,  AHiert,”  I  remarked,  “  and  tell  John 
that  I  will  find  my  stud  myseir  and  then  both  of  I 
you  get  Into  your  best  clothes  as  speedily  as  pos¬ 
sible.” 
Albert  leaped  out  of  the  room,  rejoiced  to  get 
rid  of  his  writing  lesson.  I  was  vln-n-vis  with  Mrs. 
Vanderdnynok. 
"  Have  you  lost  youraleeve  button  ?”  she  asked, 
breaking  a  stiff  silence. 
“ Yes.” said  1;  “my  cuffs  are  rather  worn  toy 
washing  and  the  button-holes  are  too  large and 
I  matter-of-factly  held  them  upfor  her  Inspection, 
“Let  me  mend  them  for  you,”  she  exclaimed, 
laughing.  “I  will  run  and  get  my  work-basket.'' 
And  she  left  the  room  without  giving  me  an  op¬ 
portunity  to  speak,  returning  In  about  three  min¬ 
utes  and  at  once  came  up  to  me  with  her  thimble 
on  her  finger  and  a  threaded  needle  In  her  hands. 
I,  not  to  be  outdone  In  art.lessnesB,  hehl  out  my 
wrist  to  her.  She  mended  the  place  skillfully.  1 
was  restless  under  her  presence,  yet  betrayed 
nothing.  We  were  quite  silent.  I  looked  out  of 
the  window,  having  glanced  tout  once  at  the  little 
fingers  so  near  mine  and  tried  not  to  shiver  when 
now  and  then  they  touched  each  other. 
“  There,”  she  cried  finally,  “  that  la  better.” 
“Yes,” said  I;  “that  is  much  better  and  be¬ 
sides  that.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  take  so  much 
trouble.” 
“I  like  trouble  for  my  friends,”  she  murmured, 
coyly. 
“And  we  are  friends?” 
“  I  had  hoped  so,  Mr.  Floyd,”  she  answered  very 
softly,  looking  up  with  wtsttid  eyes,  “but  you 
take  small  account  of  my  frlenAshlp.  It  is  l  who 
am  not  your  equal.  It  Isa  condescension  for  you 
to  be  my  friend.” 
“  Do  not  exaggerate,”  I  said  exactly  as  I  speak 
to  the  boys  when  they  are  too  hlghflown.  “  1  dare 
say  that  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  we  may  be 
equals,  but  certainly  nothing  can  be  more  differ¬ 
ent  than  our  spheree  on  earth." 
“  The  horses  are  at  the  door,"  she  said,  with  as¬ 
sumed  calmness,  “  and  I  hear  the  boys  coming 
down  stairs.  I  wish  yon  a  very  good  afternoon, 
Mr.  Floyd.” 
She  left  me.  When  the  blood  she  had  sent  surg¬ 
ing  to  my  heart  stopped  heating  so  violently,  I 
went  out  and  found  ray  sleeve-link. 
The  boys  came  back  each  with  a  pale  face  and 
a  headache  and  finally  confessed  that  they  bad 
gorged  unchecked  at  a  confectioner’s  where  their 
“grandmamma”  had  given  them  permission  to 
eat  whatever  they  fancied  while  .she  drove  about 
all  alone,  for  she  had  been  very  silent  and  .sad  for  i 
all  the  way— “Not  jolly  like  grandmamma  at  all,  j 
you  know, "Albert,  added,  indlgnanlly.  Mrs.  Hunt 
came  into  the  school-room  herself  next  morning 
to  ask  me  to  dine  with  her  at  five  o’clock  anri  when 
I  refused  she  asked  If  I  had  reason  to  be  offended 
either  with  herself  or  Mrs.  vanderduynck.  “  c:er- 
talnly  not,”  I  returned, 
“  Why,  then,  do  you  refuse  all  invitations  to 
meet  either  of  us?”  she  pursued,  with  a  keen 
glance.  I  returned  her  look  with  a  half  smile  and 
was  silent.  She  came  up  to  my  desk  and  put*her 
hand  on  my  arm.  “  Mr.  Floyd,”  said  she  soctly. 
“  I  once  told  you  that  my  stepmother  was  a  co¬ 
quette.  I  wronged  her  In  saying  so.  I  think  now 
that  she  Is  not  only  no  coquette,  but  that  she  is 
one  of  the  most  frank  and  warm-hearted  of  wo¬ 
men.” 
“  I  quite  agree  with  you,”  I  returned  coolly.  “  l 
never  considered  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  the  least  of 
a  coquette.  ”  Mrs,  H  unt  laughed. 
“Come  and  take  tea  with  ns  to-night  at  eight 
oYilock,”  said  she,  gobd-naturedly.  “l  shall  ac¬ 
cept  no  refusal.  I  Insist  upon  your  Joining  u.s  In 
the  boudoir  after  you  are  through  with  the  boys.” 
I  a.ssented  of  course  and  In  the  evening  met  the 
ladles  In  the  little  room  off  the  library.  Little 
Cora  sat  beside  me  while  I  drank  my  tea  and 
finally  dropped  off  to  sleep,  her  head  against  my 
knees,  her  arms  clasping  nay  legs.  The  conversa¬ 
tion,  although  conventional,  was  sufllclently  In¬ 
teresting,  as  we  were  discussing  some  new  books. 
Mrs,  Vanderduynck  said  little,  but  looked  more 
lovely  than  ever.  She  was  in  black,  with  some 
shining  gauzy  white  overdress  and  hergnlrteu  hair 
was  bound  In  a  Grecian  knot.  She  wore  not  a  single 
ribbon  or  Jewel— in  her  hand  slie  hold  a  rose  which 
she  played  with  inc&ssantly  and  wlrji  her  fitful 
color  and  her  drooping  eyes  and  modest  manner, 
she  looked  barely  sixteen.  After  a  time  she  went 
Into  the  next  room  and  sitting  down  at  the  piano 
she  sang  in  a  soft  low  voice.  I  think  all  the  airs 
she  chose  were  adleux.  Little  Cora  slept  on.  I 
felt  dreary,  Holt,  dreary.  Mrs,  Hunt  was  tran¬ 
quil  and  gracious  and  tcok  up  some  work  when 
the  tea  things  were  removed. 
“Don’t  trouble  yourself  with  the  child," said 
she.  “Go  In  and  hear  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  sing.” 
“Thanks,”!  returned.  “lean  hear  her  with 
perfect  distinctness  here.”  Mra.  Hunt  began  talk¬ 
ing  about  the  young  people  who  had  been  staying 
with  her— told  about  the  flirtations  which  had 
culminated  In  engagements  beneath  her  roof. 
“Apropos,”  said  she,  “I  have  a  suspicion  that 
you  are  engaged  to  be  married,  Mr,  Floyd.” 
“Not  at  all,” I  replied,  meeting  her  keen  glance 
calmly.  “On  the  contrary,  I  have  never  yet  asked 
a  woman  to  marry  me.” 
“But you  wish  to  marry  ultimately,” she  sug¬ 
gested.  The  music  ceased.  1  could  see  the  slen¬ 
der  yet  voluptuous  outline  of  the  white-draped 
figure  posed  in  a  listening  attitude. 
“  1  may  many  years  hence,”  I  returned,  phleg¬ 
matically,  “  provided  I  find  the  wife  I  need.” 
“  What  would  she  be  ?  Some  miracle  of  beauty 
doubtless." 
“  Quite  the  reverse.  1  fancy  she  would  be  plain. 
I  should  choose  a  woman  who  would  bo  ray  com¬ 
panion  in  a  laborious  life :  who  could,  U  need  be, 
follow  mo  Into  the  wilderness,  cook  my  food,  en¬ 
dure  fatigue,  think  little  of  herself  but  much  of 
me;  be  cheerful  under  hardships  and  able  to  in¬ 
spire  my  depressed  soul  with  courage  and  seren¬ 
ity.” 
“  You  are  right,”  Interposed  Mrs.  Hunt,  laugh¬ 
ing.  “The  wife  you  describe  must  needs  be 
plain;  she - ” 
“  But  it  la  too  much  to  ask  of  any  woman,”  said  I, 
with  a  half  laugh ;  “  hence,  T  expect  to  go  through 
life  alone.  I  doubt  my  capacity  for  loving  a  plain 
woman.  As  for  a  beautiful  one  whom  I  did  love, 
I  should  prefer  that  she  should  be  more  fittingly 
enshrined  than  In  the  life  of  a  man  like  me,  who 
Is  not  only  poor  hut  will  always  be  poor— whoso 
profession  denies  him  emolunaent.” 
"A  clever  man  like  .vourself,  Mr.  Floyd.”  said 
Afrs.  Hunt  in  the  pleasant  bone  of  a  woman  who 
wishes  to  stroke  you  the  right  way.  “a  man  like 
yfuirself,  of  good  family,  of  personal  accompllsh- 
raenlA,  high  culture  and  tn  your  way  rare  ability, 
ought  not  always  to  he  poor,  you  should  marry 
a  rich  woman  whose  money  would  enable  you  to 
devote  your  life  to  sclcntfflo  research  and  pur¬ 
suits  which  help  on  the  oabso  of  humanity.” 
I  looked  up  and  saw  Mrs.  Vanderduynck’s 
pale  face  and  gleaming  eyes.  Little  Cora  had 
awakened,  l  took  her  In  my  arras  and  pressed 
my  Ups  to  hers.  I  did  not  nsk  myself  whence 
come  the  passion  which  fevered  the  caress.  All 
this  before  I  answered. 
“Mrs.  Hunt,  my  wire  must  take  everything 
I  from  me.  I  could  accept  nothing  but  herself  from 
a  woman.’’ 
“  Yet  If  you  loved  a  rich  woman— what  then?” 
“  My  passions  wait  upon  ray  win,”  said  1,  rising. 
“Marry  a  rich  woman  I  could  not  and  would  not.” 
.  r  carried  Cora  to  her  mother’s  side.  “  I  under¬ 
stand  you  leave  for  Newyort  to-morrow,  Mrs. 
Vanderduynck,”  1  went  on,  looking  anywhere  ex¬ 
cept  Into  her  face,  “and  I  will  hid  you  good-by, 
with  tho  hope  that  you  may  enjoy  your  visit.” 
She  said  nothing;  did  not  even  lift  her  hand 
towa  rd  me  from  her  lap,  where  it  lay  claspingthe 
other.  I  took  It  gently  tn  my  own.  it  was  trem¬ 
ulous  and  cold.  I  did  not  press  It,  merely  touched 
,  It ;  then  I  clasped  Cora  in  my  arms  again  and 
strained  her  to  my  breast. 
That  was  the  end,  Holt.  1  did  not  look  up  ne.xt 
mornlug  when  the  carriage  rolled  past  the  school¬ 
room  window  where  I  was  sitting. 
Riverbend,  October  27. 
1  was  in  New  York  four  days  last  week,  dear 
Holt,  and  was  sorry  to  learn  that  you  were  in 
Washington.  Had  you  beenln  town  l  shouldhave 
presented  you  to  the  woman  f  am  to  marry  some 
three  months  from  now.  she  is  anxious  to  meet 
you  and  will  herself  aak  you  tor  all  the  letters  I 
have  written  you  concerning  her :  bo,  ray  boy,  if 
you  think  my  wife  will  quarrel  with  me  for  them. 
I  advise  you  to  read  them  well  before  that  time 
comes.  I  confess  that  I  feel  a,  trifle  shy  about 
telling  even  you  Of  the  change  in  my  life.  For 
a  change  It  is,  radical  and  entire,  and  I  had,  more¬ 
over,  committed  myself  to  a  contrary  course. 
After  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  went  to  Newport  l 
gave  myself  up  to  study.  I  was  slok  of  theorizing 
—I  needed  facte,  l  took  up  the  Russian  language 
and  refreshed  myself  by  reviewing  my  mathe¬ 
matics.  The  house  was  dull.  Mrs.  Hunt  went  to 
the  White  Sulphur  Springs  and  the  boys  and  1 
had  the  place  to  ourselves  except  for  a  week, 
when  .Mr.  Hunt  brought  a  set  of  choice  convives  to 
rouse  tho  echoes  night  alter  night  and  lame  the 
horses  by  day.  When  we  were  again  alone  l  used 
to  wander  aimlessly  about  the  deserted  rooms.  It 
was  a  foolish  practice,  for  It  made  my  Btlfled  pas¬ 
sion  almost  burst  its  prison  In  its  frenzied  efforts 
for  liberty,  when  I  wont  into  the  little  parlor 
whore  I  hod  laat  seen  Evelyn. 
jAte  In  September  Mrs.  Hunt  returned.  She 
looked  at  me  curiously.  1  had  changed,  she  re¬ 
marked.  “  How  so  ?”  1  demanded.  She  could 
not  tell.  She  had  been  In  Newport  fora  wnek, 
she  went  on  to  say,  visiting  Mrs.  Vanderduynck 
In  her  pretty  seaside  cottage.  Poor  thing,  she 
was  so  111!” 
“III?”  I  ejaculated. 
“Yes,”  said  Mrs.  Hunt,  meeting  my  sUrtled 
glance  coldly.  “  I  think  she  is  Just  tn  that  state 
of  healtJi  when  It  is  quite  easy  for  a  young  woman 
to  die  Of  some  disease  tor  which  hereditary  Iratts 
have  predlsposofl  her.” 
“  What  h.as  put  her  In  that  state  of  health?"  I 
Inquired  gravely.  “8he  seemed  thoroughly  well 
when  she  was  here.” 
Mrs.  Hunt  played  with  her  bracelets  but  said 
notning. 
“  She  sails  for  Europe  on  the20th,”she  resumed, 
after  a  pause,  “and  will  spend  the  winter  at  Nice 
with  my  sister.” 
1  asked  no  more.  Mrs.  Hunt’s  words  and  man¬ 
ner  haunted  me.  I  wished  that  she  had  been 
more  explicit,  for  absolutely  the  Impression  she 
had  left  upou  my  mind  wa.s  chat  ray  darling  was 
sulTerlng  on  my  account.  What  a  bond  slave  a 
man  Is,  Holt,  so  soon  a.s  ho  leaves  the  domain  of 
Incontestable  facts  and  goes  to  wondering,  hoping, 
fearing!  I  could  not  sleep  nowadays  unless  I 
tired  myself  out  by  violent  exercise.  If  I  took  my 
pen  to  write,  no  train  oi  thought  could  hold  me 
from  drifting  Into  re  very.  Evoljm  pursued  me  In 
fancy.  1  had  a  vague,  diffused,  melancholy  feel¬ 
ing  about  my  heart  constantly— in  fact,  l  was  a 
confounded  spooney.  I  did  not  dream  of  seeing 
her  again,  for  the  boys  had  showed  me  the  hand¬ 
some  presents  she  had  sent  with  a  farewell  letter. 
Time  paases,  oven  for  infatuated  Idiots,  and 
presently  It  was  the  leth  of  October  and  Evelyn 
was  to  sail  on  Saturday.  Mrs.  Hunt  camo  Into 
the  school-room  one  afternoon  with  a  telegram  In 
her  hand.  “Mr.  Floyd,”  said  she,  “would  you 
mind  driving  over  to  the  station  to  meet  Mrs. 
Vanderduynck?  I  have  a  dispatch  saying  that 
she  will  be  here  at  3,25.  Tlie  men  are  all  busy  and 
I  scarcely  dare  to  trust  the  boys.” 
“  I  thought  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  was  on  the  point 
of  sailing  for  Europe,"  I  gasped- 
“  So  she  Is,”  returned  Mrs.  Hunt,  “hut  she  comes 
up  for  a  night  to  bid  me  good-by.  Will  you  go  ?” 
“Certainly,”  I  assured  her,  “  and  I  wlU  take  the 
boys  In  tho  bretL  They  are  good  boys  to-day  and 
deserve  a  treat.” 
“  Wouldn’t  It  be  better  to  go  alone  in  the  phm- 
ton  7”  suggested  Mrs.  Hunt,  softly. 
I  dissented  drily  and  presently  was  driving  to 
the  station  with  the  boys  crowded  on  tho  front 
scat  with  me.  We  met  Mrs.  Vanderduynck.  I 
was  more  than  composed;  I  wa.s  apparently  ossi¬ 
fied.  1  took  her  bags,  offered  my  arm  to  her,  put 
her  In  the  carriage  with  Albert  next  to  her  and 
then  John  and  I  mounted  In  front  and  we  set  off 
home.  I  was  driven  by  demons  tha  t  night.  No 
sooner  had  wo  reached  tho  house  than,  alter  hand¬ 
ing  her  from  tho  brett,  1  gave  tho  reins  to  tho 
groom  and  set  off  on  a  long  walk  over  to  see  Prof. 
Walker  and  his  new  fossils  Ju-st  brought  from  the 
West  and  did  not  return  until  cloven.  I  entered 
quietly,  InUmdlng  to  go  up  suirs  at  once,  hut  Mrs. 
Hunt  came  out  of  the  drawing-room  and  called 
me  In,  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  was  sitting  by  the 
table  and  the  lamp  screen  completely  shaded  her 
face ;  but  as  Hio  light  fell  on  her  hands  crossf^d  In 
her  lap,  I  saw  that  they  were  tlvln  and  that  the 
poor  little  wrists  scorned  a  third  smaller  than  they 
had  been  tn  the  summer.  I  sat  down  at  once  and 
began  to  tolkabout  Walker’s  fossils.  I  was  master 
Of  the  onoaalon.  Neither  woman  dared  oppose  mo. 
I  congratulated  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  upon  her 
plans  for  a  gay  European  winter.  1  told  Mrs. 
Hunt  I  had  seized  thatopportunlty  for  my  twelve- 
mile  walk  to  the  Professor's,  because  I  knew  that 
the  two  ladles  would  have  a  thousand  tilings  to 
say  to  each  other  and  that  I  should  be  in  the  way ; 
then,  rl-slng,  1  declared  mysoir  tired  and  hungry 
and  added  that  I  was  going  to  aak  Thomas  for  a 
biscuit  and  a  glass  of  wine;  and  I  left  the  room, 
going  up  stAlrs  presently,  humming  a  tune  as  l 
followed  the  butler  as  he  carried  a  tray  of  refresh¬ 
ments.  I  never  though  t  of  touching  to  the  school¬ 
room.  Albert  and  John  did  not  want  to  have  les¬ 
sons  next  morning  becau.se  grandmamma  was 
golug  away  at  twelve  o’clo«Jk ;  but  I  told  t  hem 
that  It  their  mamma  or  grandmamma  had  wished 
It,  they  would  have  asked  a  holiday  for  them.  .So 
tho  lads  docilely  went  to  work  and  the  morning 
progressed  as  iisuaL 
At  half-post  ten  a  knock  came  at  the  school- 
room  door  and  the  servant  sold  that  Mrs,  Vander¬ 
duynck  asked  if  the  boys  might  come  to  her  room 
for  half  an  hour.  “  My  respects  to  Airs.  Vander¬ 
duynck,”  I  returned,  “and  will  she  not  come  fo 
the  school-room  to  sec  the  boy.s  ?  They  want  l.o 
show  her  their  new  desks."  I  wanted  to  see  her. 
Holt,  but  I  wished  to  see  her  protected  by  my 
pupils,  who  would  rob  the  situation  of  embarrass¬ 
ment  for  me  at  lea-st.  She  entered  timidly,  sue 
wa-s  dressed  la  a  dark-blue  traveling  dress  and  Its 
slmplocut  made  her  figure  look  very  slight,  wliile 
her  tace  seemed  thinner  and  paler  than  of  old. 
She  spoke  to  mo  respectfully  hut  did  not  look  at 
me.  Her  whole  manner  was  very  gentle  but  very 
dignified.  She  went  up  to  the  boys'  desks  anri  sit¬ 
ting  down,  held  each  by  the  hand  while  she  talked 
to  them.  This  was  tho  last  then,  t  thought  witliln 
myself  drearily,  loan  hour  she  would  begone 
and  I  should  never  see  her  again.  l  opened  my 
books  and  turned  the  leaves  while  tne  grouii  across 
the  room  prattled  on.  She  was  telling  aoout  Cora, 
Whom  she  had  left  behind  her  lu  New  York.  “  I 
am  sorry  you  did  not  bring  my  little  friend,”  said 
1,  interrupting  presently.  She  turned  and  looked 
at  me  and  our  eyes  met.  Rhe  tried  to  speak  but 
coidd  say  nothing  and  blushed  painfully.  My 
heart  beat  so  fast  It  almost  stifled  me ;  but  I  cross¬ 
ed  the  room.  “Boys,"  said  I,  authoritatively,  “I 
wish  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  a  moment. 
Go  out  on  tho  lawn  and  stay  until  I  call  you  tn.” 
They  obeyed,  open-eyed  -Albert  with  bis  tongue 
thrust  In  hts  cheek,  each  scenting  the  meaning  of 
the  situation.  Mrs.  Vanderduynck  was  very  white 
and  trembling  os  1  went  to  her  and  took  her  hand. 
“  I  have  something  r,o  s;vy  to  you,"  said  I,  fixing 
my  eyes  on  her  face  and  compelling  her  tn  meet 
ray  glance,  “  Perhaps  It  would  be  better  for  me 
to  continue  silent;  but  1  am  only  a  man,  Evelyn, 
and  1  cannot  meet  such  a  look  as  you  gave  mo 
then  and  not  speak.  I  love  you.  I  lovo  you  bet¬ 
ter,  far  better  than  anythl ng  else  i n  the  world.  l 
never  loved  a  woman  before  and  1  never  can  again. 
Were  you  poor  and  obscure  like  me,  it  would  be 
the  happlneas  of  my  life  to  offer  you  my  service— 
to  win  you  for  my  wife  U  I  could ;  to  work  for  you 
and  to  carry  you  through  tho  world  without  your 
feeling  a  care  or  pain.  But  now — ’’  I  paused. 
Warm  delicious  color  had  vivified  her  face  and  In 
her  eyes  shone  pure  content. 
“  But  now?”  she  whispered  softly,  putting  both 
her  hands  In  mine.  1  flung  thorn  from  me,  for  In 
their  touch  lurked  all  the  magnetism  which  can 
rob  a  man  of  self-control.  l  rcii  weak— weak  as 
water,  I  went  over  to  my  desk,  sat  down  and 
leaned  my  head  upon  my  hands. 
“  But  now  ?”  she  said  again. 
“  But  now,”  I  resumed  In  a  stifled  voice,  “  how 
can  I  aak  you  to  marry  me?  it  seems  a  baseness 
for  me  to  try  to  win  you  when  1  have  so  little  to 
give  you.” 
She  was  close  beside  me  now.  “  Forget  my 
wealth,”  .she  said  simply;  “forget  your  pride. 
Look  up  a  moment."  1  looked  up.  She  put  her 
arms  about  my  neck,  her  cheek  to  mine,  her  lips 
were  at  my  oar.  “  I  love  you,”  she  whispered.  “  I 
lovo  you  so  dearly,  Air.  Floyd.” 
Heaven  had  come  down  to  me.  Holt,  and  1  ac¬ 
cepted  heaven. 
Halt  an  hour  afterward  wo  were  stUl  at  my  desk. 
I  was  in  my  chair;  but  she  was  on  my  knees,  the 
sweetest,  frankest,  loveliest  child  In  existence. 
“Suppose  I  ii?d  not  come  yesterday,”  nUe  was 
saying. 
