rf - ^ c*'ll' - ' 
"V . • M 
GROWN APART. 
One in name, yef.two in heart, 
Slowly, but surely, grown apart; 
Saddest of all sad sights to seo— 
Love from his^own'eweet'.bondH set free. 
Grown apart—through the lagging years— 
Nor smiles, nor sighs, nor melting tears 
Shall call love’s rose to the cheek again. 
Or thrill the heart with its precious pain. 
Growing apart—for evermore— 
A canlser worm at the very core. 
Shorn of all.the sweets of life; 
An unloved husband,'uulovod wife, 
Ah well! they have had their lit tie day; 
Some flowers bloom only, and die, in May; 
And if these have missed the summer’s prime. 
And riper fruits of the autumn time— 
Knowing only the drought of one. 
And failing the other’s blasts to shun: 
There yet may be garnored in each Bad heart 
Sheaves that have ripened and grown apart. 
-- - » 
ANCESTRAL HAL T, OF A CHINESE MAN- 
SION, 
Aj.i, the Chinese, whether confuclnnlsts, Budd¬ 
hists or Taulsts, worship the spirits of their de¬ 
ceased parents and ancestors, and offer to them 
money, food and clothing. This Is done before 
their tablets, wlilcb are placed in some recess in 
the house, or, In the case of the wealthy, in the 
ancestral hall, which Is connected with the fam¬ 
ily mansion. 
The general belief Is that the unseen world la 
very much a copy of this, only that things are 
spiritualized. The departed spirits are supposed 
to need food, clothes and money, just as much as 
when they lived In bodies, and It. is the duty of 
their living friends to provide them with these. 
. — ♦♦♦ —< 
0 0 E A. 
CHAPTER VII. 
“ A word with you, signor,” said a voice, which 
Lord Almane Immediately discovered was Mari¬ 
anna’s. 
He shook her hand off a little impatiently. 
“ Well 1” he said, haughtily. “ What Is It ?’’ 
“ You will pardon me, signor,” she went on, 
quietly, “If I seem to bo taking a liberty ; but 
the stgnorina’s happiness la very dear tome.” 
“ And to me, good mother,” answered the vis¬ 
count, thinking It might be wiser to win the old 
woman to his Interest. 
Marianna’s face brightened a little. 
signor, if I understand aright what 1 
heard-” 
“How interrupted Lord Almane, sharply.— 
“ Have you, then been eaves-dropplng ?” 
“ Wherefore not ?” replied the old woman, with 
a sort of simple, unconscious dignity, which at any 
other time would have amused his lordship, “You 
are a grand seigneur, and I but an old nurse ; but 
I love my slguorlua, and If any action of mlue can 
save her from dishonor-” 
“ Who speaks of dishonor v” again Interrupted 
Lord Almane. “ You are doting, Marianna.” 
“ From sorrow, 1 should have said, she resum¬ 
ed with the same calmness of manner, “Milord, 
you have won the child’s love, and yet I hoard 
you say to-night that you were bound to another,} 
The Viscount uttered an 
impatient exclamation ; he . 
did not at all approve of Ma¬ 
rianna’s cross-exam Inatlo n . 
“ If you are not going to 
make the slgnorlua your 
wife,” she went on again, 
heedless of his impatient 
gesture or quick stride, “why 
speak of love to her, mi¬ 
lord?” 
“My good woman," re¬ 
plied the Viscount., haughti¬ 
ly, “ men In my position 
don’t marry every pretty 
face they come across. The 
slgnorlua and 1 understand 
each other perfectly. Do 
not trouble yourself to Inter¬ 
fere any further.” 
“Signor,” she said, pas¬ 
sionately, “the child Is well¬ 
born—as highly connected 
as yourself; she Is lit to 
mate with the highest In the 
land.” 
Lord Almane laughed 
lightly. 
“ We will not discuss the 
point, my good woman,” he 
said, carelesely. “ There is 
no need for you to be kept 
from your rest any longer. 
If your pretty slguorlua Is 
willing to let thlngj be as 
they are, why need ,you 
trouble v 1 will take earo 
that no harm Happens to 
her, Marianna.” 
“ You dare not harm her,” 
the old woman exclaimed, 
fiercely. “ You dare not 
harm her 1 Nay, had she |gf= 
not her brother to defend 
her, you should not do so— 
you dare not, I say 1” 
“ Take care,” he answered, 
In a menacing tone—** take care; your Interfer¬ 
ence cannot do good, hut It may do harm. I am 
not accustomed to be baulked in my wishes either 
by brother or duenna.” 
Marianna paused, and laid her hand on his arm, 
with a hard, stem pressure. 
“ Listen, signor,” she said, In the cold meas¬ 
ured tones of contempt; “ you are great, and no¬ 
ble, and wealthy ; I am but poor, humble, and 
ignorant, but from my soul I despise you. You 
come Into a poor man’s bouse, and receive hospi¬ 
tality and kindness, which you repay with base¬ 
ness and Ingratitude. You shall hear me; you 
shall know that a poor Ignorant servant has only 
contempt in her heart for the grand seigneur 
who, in return for confidence and friendship, 
steals the richest treasure the mau possesses, 
and blights the happiness of a fair young life.” 
Lord Almane uttered an execration, and tried 
to disengage himself, but this was Impossible 
without using actual violence, and this he could 
not do. 
“ Loose me ” ho said, In a low tone, full ofcon- 
centratcd anger. ■* Loose me ; you are mad.” 
“ i would not wish the stgnorlna to marry you 
now,” she went on, without heeding his efforts or 
his angry exclamations, " If you were to sue her 
on your knees; I pray for a happier fate for her 
than that she may wed such as you.” 
She removed her hand from his arm, and allow¬ 
ed him to pass before her Into the house; then 
she noiselessly closed and barred the door after 
them, and followed him up-stalrs. As they pass¬ 
ed the door of Cora’s room a sound of stlQed but 
passionate sobbing struck upon the ears of both. 
Lord Almane started and half paused, while, by 
tho light of the candle Bhe held, Marianna saw 
that ho had turned a shade paler. Then ho pass¬ 
ed on quietly, aud entered his own room, while 
the Italian waited until the sorrowful souud had 
died away, and she could hope that Cora slept, 
before she sought her own room. 
The next day Lord Almane left The Tryst: his 
mauner was graver and quieter tban usual, while 
Cora’s forced vivacity badly dissembled the heavy 
eyes and the pale cheeks which told of a sleepless 
night. 
The viscount returned to his chambers in the 
“Albany"with no small regret; but ho threw 
himself Into the vortex of the London season, 
which was early and brilliant tbat year, and 
strove to shut out the remembrance of those wist¬ 
ful haunting eyes, and of the sweet low voice 
which sounded so often In his ears. They came 
before him often, notwithstanding all his efforts. 
More than once, whether riding In the Row with 
Lady Helen St. Maur, the prettiest married co¬ 
quette In his “ world,” or bending over the dain¬ 
tily-gloved hand when she stopped her victoria, 
and bent her graceful head In pleased greeting, 
there came before him auother fair face which 
shut out all her ladyshlp’s^a face with dark lus- 
lng the nohle coronet of raven hair which crown¬ 
ed her fair brow. Truly she was beautiful, In 
the sheeny Batin robes and Hashing Jewels; but 
beside that queenly radiant figure there appeared 
to him a slender girlish form In dark serge, with 
a crimson ribbon fastening back the rich hrown 
hair, and Lady Helen’s heauty seemed cold and 
conventional beside that girlish loveliness, so 
pure, and fresh, and glowing. 
“Thinking of Lucie?” he repeated, giving to 
his languid tones an expression of eager dissent. 
“ Do you think that is possible when I am with 
you ? Why do you try to remind me that tho day 
must come when-” 
“ Whon Lady Lucie Belmont becomesviscount- 
ess Almane," she Interrupted, lightly. “ By my 
faith!" she added In a moment, laughing a little 
musical laugh, “Lucie Belmont Is most confiding 
to remain in Italy so long, aud leave her jtance to 
follow his own sweet will I I, In her place, would 
not be so much so.” 
“ Would you not ?” he answered, readily; “ and 
yet there would be less fear." 
Aud the beauty laughed her triumphant laugh, 
and Hashed her dark eyes Into Ills, as they sat In 
the scented, dlmly-llghted conservatory, and play¬ 
ed at the pretty game of Platonics, which might 
he safe to them, but which is so often attended 
with sorrowful results. 
But even the pretty game of Platonics, with 
Lady Helen SC. Maur for a partner, did not quite 
satisfy the viscount now, and after he had left 
The Tryst three weeks, he resolved to pay a visit 
to Harold Sinclair. 
“ We parted good friends,” thought his lord- 
ship, as he drove down in his mall phaeton. “The 
brother suspects nothing, unless that old Italian 
witch has betrayed us, which 1 doubt.” 
The road was looking its prettiest this fair 
spring day, and Lord Almane s spirits rose as he 
sped along; but as he drew near The Tryst he 
fancied it looked closed and uninhabited. 
Pulling up at the little gate near which he had 
met with the accident a short time before, he 
threw the relBS to his servant, and went himself 
to make luqulrles- 
The door was opened by a surly, untidy-looking 
woman, who immediately vouchsafed the Infor¬ 
mation that the family were not there. 
“ Where have they gone?” said Lord Almane, 
In some surprise and dlscomforture. 
“ I dou’t kuow, I’m sure,” returned the harpy, 
peering at him through the small space which 
she had opened the door. 
“ How long have they left?” resumed the vis¬ 
count, slipping half a crown Into her hand, which 
douceur softened the rough tone. 
" Quite teudays, your honor,” she replied, with 
some civility. "I cau’t tell you much about ’em, 
but I did hear that the gentleman, who is a har- 
tls, ’ad gone to study his hart In furrln parts." 
The viscount turned away with an angry scowl 
trous eyes, full of reproach and pain, and quiver- ^ u{1 muttl , re(l exclamation, 
ing crimson Ups, and then he would be so absent <*The birds have flown.” 
and distrait that Lady Helen would toss her 
haughty head and wonder to herself. 
“ Are you thinking of Lady Lucie ?" she said CHAPTER VIII. 
one night, as they sat together In the conserva- Lord Almane returned to town vexed aud baf- 
toryor a great house, where all the best, and fled: he had counted upon seeing Cora again, up- 
noblest, and highest lu the land were assembled on holding the Uttle fluttering hand In his, upon 
to “ chase the hours with flying feet,” and Lord seeing the Bweet tatntcolor deepen In the rounded 
Almane and her ladyship were tavorlte guests, cheek, or meeting the great, lustrous eyes half 
“For quite ten minutes you have said nothing, innocently, half bashfully lifted to his, and his 
and I allow no one to he silent and absent In my disappointment was acute enough to make itseir 
society.” felt. But acute though It was, if, was but momcn- 
Lord Almane smiled as he turned to her, and tary; and long before he had reached the Marble. 
, his eyes fell upon the radiant heauty, with dla- Arch, Lord Almane had remembered that It was 
1 monds flashing on her white throat and wreath- quite possible to And out the whereabouts of 
ANCliSlKAli IIAL.L. 
CHINESE MANSION. 
most people; that there were such things and 
places as private Inquiry offices, and that a gold¬ 
en key would unlock most hiding-places, even 
If narold Sinclair had purposely removed his 
sister. 
“ can he have taken her away to cut off any 
communication between us ?” mused his lordship 
as he tooled hts chestnuts through the park and 
acknowledged the greetings of his acquaintances. 
“ Has that medllng old woman Indeed betrayed 
us ? I thought he half suspected something on 
my last evening, but bis maauer afterwards 
made me thluk otherwise. Ah! well, I am not so 
easily defeated, and Cora is worth some little 
trouble.” 
June came, bringing with It from the sunny 
south Lady Lucie Belmont and her aunt, Lady 
Martyn, and the Viscount, In duty bound, was 
one of the first and most constant visitors at their 
house in Park Lane. He was lond of his cousin In 
a quiet cousinly manner, but she bored him rath¬ 
er, and he would have Infinitely preferred Lady St. 
Maur tor a companion, uot for life, perhaps, as 
the Viscountess Almane must be like C®3ar’s 
wife, “ above suspicion," but for a flirtation. 
Lady Lucie was a pretty, fair creature, with 
large blue eyes and flaxen hair, a gentle manner, 
and a very sweet, low voice; but to Lord Almane, 
accustomed to the more brilliant charms of the 
great ladles of hts world. Impressed now with 
Cora Sinclair’s glowing, soul-lit loveliness, his 
cousin was a little Insipid; and though he was 
attentive enough to ho styled a model lover, as I 
said, her attention bored and wearied him. 
“ You are not looking well, Stanley,” said Lady 
Lucie, on the evening they met. “Are you sure 
you have quite recovered from the effects of your 
accident?” 
Aud the wistful blue eyes turned to him with a 
tender earnestness In their depths. 
“Quite, dear,” he answered, smiling at her, “1 
suppose, however, two or three weeks of suffering 
leave a mark behind them even when they have 
entirely passed away.” 
“ Tell me about the people at Richmond, with 
whom you were,” she went on. “I mean the 
young artist you wrote to me of. They were 
kind to you, you said.” 
“Very,” answered the viscount. “It was a 
quaint, old-fashioned cottage, with gables and 
lattices which would have delighted a romantic 
young maiden like yourself. The household con¬ 
sisted or an old Italian woman, who wore the 
dress of her country, and might have stepped out 
of a Rembrandt, aud one English servant. Harold 
Sinclair himself was very unusually handsome, 
and I fancy talented In his profession; while his 
sister, though quite la a different style, was 
equally good-looking.” 
“Will you take me to see them ?” asked Lady 
Lucie. “ I should so much like to thank them for 
their goodness to you, Stanley." 
“Gratcrul little heart,” he replied, smiling. 
“ That Is a graceful proof of your Interest in mo, 
dear Lucie; but I am very sorry to say that when 
1 called at the Tryst a short time after 1 had left 
It, I fouud It closed, and the person in charge 
could only tell me that they were gone abroad.” 
“ I am sorry,” answered Lady Lucie, sincerely. 
“ We might have been useful to them perhaps, 
Stanley.” 
Days slipped rapidly by, and tbe London season 
was drawing to a close; but Lord Almaue had 
had no satisfactory result as to Ms InqMrles 
about the movements of Harold Sinclair, and he 
| began to be getting rather anxious about his suc- 
, cess In the matter. The obstacles which sepa- 
t | rated Mm from Cora by no means quenched Ms 
desire to see her—on the 
comrary, they rather In¬ 
creased Ms ardor and ad¬ 
ded zest to Ms pursuit. He 
was more than over determ¬ 
ined to U jd her again, ami to 
regain the power he pos¬ 
sessed over her, aud which, 
If absence bad weakened It, 
would be easily regained. 
Meanwhile, he rode and 
drove with Lady Lucie, at¬ 
tended her to the few even¬ 
ing entertainments her 
health, which was delicate, 
permttud her to enjoy, ap¬ 
peared regularly in Lady 
Marty ns opera box, and was 
altogether devoted enough 
to r.tlse a smile among some 
of Ms Intimates, who opined 
that Almaue was becoming 
sober at last. 
Lady Lucie was supremely 
happy, and her happiness 
transformed her from a pret¬ 
ty girl, wuuUog life and col¬ 
or, Into a lovely and inter¬ 
esting woman. Her eyes 
grew lustrous and brilliant, 
her lips were wreathed with 
bright smites, and a chavm- 
lng rose-bloom replaced the 
pallor of her cheeks- People 
began to remark that the 
heiress was turning out a 
beauty as well, and that the 
\ lseouut was a lucky rellow 
to obtain beauty, wealth 
and amiability In Ms wife. 
“ Will you take me to see 
Mrs. Colston to-day?’’ said 
Lady Lucie one atternoou, 
when Lord Almaue settled 
her comfortably lu his phea- 
ton, and prepared for one 
of the cosy tete-a-tete drives, 
