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{Copyright.} A. GIRLING THOUSAND. By JEAN MIDDLEMASS, author of "Lady Muriel's Secret," "The Spider and the Fly," "Poisoned Arrows," "Wild Georgie," &c., &c. CHAPTER V. THE BANDITS. Mr. Stanhope had been very careful when his boys were still young to put their names down for 'one or two of the best London clubs. He was a man who fully believed in association and com- panionship having an immense deal to do with forming a young man's character. It was, therefore, quite without his advice, in fact, without hIS knowledge, that Ferdinand en- rolled his. name as one of the Bandita-a proprietary club having Its whereabouts in a quiet turning out of Pf\!1 Steady going. essentially correct. Henrv SUnhope, 'simh Pr 7 nCVer have known that there was a club had he not been blessed,or cursed, with who wasresolved not to saunter monotonously along the straight paths of life. Yet among the andits Ferdinand was generally to be found When he managed to get leave from Hounslow and slip up to town; very frequently on these occasions not even putting in an appearance in iiaton-square. The Randits. be it understood, were by no means Bohemian; though a few of the elite from that country had strayed among them, they were for the most part offshoots of the upper ten. He lounges in there one night in May looking so morose and taciturn that his greatest intimates Scarcely know him, for Ferdinand, as a rule, is a jocose and merry fellow, and does not allow the cares of life to sit very heavily upon him. Neither is he by any means of a secretive turn of mind. and usually tells his trouble, when the Chronic state of money difficulties in which he is invoked becomes a trouble, pretty freely to those whom he considers his friends. To-night, however. he is most reserved; neither â¢taunts nor chaff will draw t to What has pfino from him ono word as «7? .g 9 am,8a «ith him. IBlain, «he 'haq 'Um'" 8ayS the Hon* Can't mn °n Cauo''t the disease at last. Sr ^,he"in b«? «»of uu,'ying a fellow?" FerdtnT^f for once in your life, Blain," answered love than T .ne,ver fe,t more unlike being in that « u .°0at tlus moment. I'm out of temper, of Purely I have as much right to be out idiotJ*nper' 1 1 cll0ose» as any other infernal don't mind calling yourself an ernal idiot, we'll forgive you, cried Mr. Blain, ughing,« but you ought to know by this time, rerdinand, that jollity is one of the pass words nere, and that you should leave your ill temper in barracks, or at the Rag, or any other place where May like a little spleen. Come and forget how disagreeable she has been, mv dear boy, and have » gamble." â *» the devil do you know about she ? What do you know about it, I should like to tnow ? Go and gamble yourself. I won't touch a beastly card to-night. ."Hullo, hullo, has she been trying to make you "give it up? We are beginning to discover at last where the shoe pinches. Don't marry a woman who starts by bullying you before marriage. My dear fellow, it is a mistake." I" Ferdinand looked at him in utter astonishment for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing. The persistency with which they imposed a love affair on him amused him. and as be had no inten- tion whatever of telling them what had in reality upset his equilibrium perhaps this excuse would do as weU as any other. Own to the Bandits that his mother had been lecturing him and had perhaps, if only for a time, made him regret that weakness of his which she said was dragging his family down into the mireâthe very thought of such a > thing was out of the question. Take the Bandits as a body, notwithstanding the jollity and camaraderie which they pro- fessed, they could scarcely be designated a set of good fellows; and it was an evil hour in which Ferdinand Stanhope had consented to become a member of the club, since the companionship of the men he met there was calculated to consider- ably strengthen the vices already inherent in his Mature, while the society of noble honourable toen might have considerably improved his charac- for Ferdinand, notwithstanding his big im- posing appearance and grand blustering manners, the weakest of the Stanhopes, and a few persuasive words would always lead him where "Cither Geoffrey nor Irene would ever have been Induced to follow. Alas, that persuasion usually carries its greatest WMgMwhen its points to some down-hill pathway, lo-aay, however. it had been exercising itself for good, when it lud fallen in kindly, loving pleadings from the lips of the only hunoan being for whom Ferdinand professed as deep an affection A8 his naturally unloving nature was capable of. His one redeeming point was that he loved his Another, but he would, indeed, have been almost inhuman if he had been impervious to the con- sistent tenderness and gentleness with which Lady Fedora ever treated her children and their faults. Geoffrey's candid, straight forward character irri- tated Ferdinand; Irene's simple-hearted goodness he set down as childish; and his sister counted for Very little in his life Mr. Stanhope had been quite right when he had at last carried the burden of Ferdinand's short- comings and laid them at Lady Fedora's feet, for she alone had any influence over the young soldier. The only fear was, had Mr. Stanhope done so soon enough? Was not Ferdinand already so deeply plunged that it would take far more than a mother's good advice to enable him to scramble back to the altitude from which he had fallen ? Had Larly Fedora for a Q'loment dreamed of con. descending to consult Mrs. Purvis on the subject of her son Ferdinand's affairs, the housekeeper might, had she chosen to unloose her tongue, have not a little appalled the worthy parents of this most un- worthy scion. But the women, gentle and lowly. Who, in their several ways, were devoted to Fer- dinand, kept their own counsel. It is only in tnomentsof great pressure that a high-bred woman like Lady Fedora makes a confidante of one in her servant#, and had she elected to do so now it would probably have been Mrs. Knight she Would have chosen to sueak with. There was a kindliness and simplicity in the nature of Phvllis's mother which was much more in unison with Lady Fedora's footings than the coarser and more com- Dionplace attributes which Mrs. Purvis possessed. But with Ferdinand's affairs what had either of these women to do ? Lady Fedora would have Mkprl. Strange how little even the most carefully obser- vant mistresses know of the workings of life within their own establishment. Without a word, then, to anyone, strong in the "belief of what his mother's love would effect. Lady Fedora went through 8 somewhat trying inter- View with Ferdinand. The impression left on her mind at its conclusion was that she had decidedly Sained some ground, since she had made her un- happy hoy see the error of his ways. and surely no Stanhope, no lIIanly Stanhope, as was her Ferdi- nand, but would, when he saw the danger in which hi" actions were placing, not only himself, but ^ose he loved, at once lace itand Withstand every uj^ptation which would lure him within its r«Med radius what Ferdinand himself had said, and the !had \l^12ate' almost tender manner in which he think '1er' Lafi-V Fedora had every reason to ;<>nly prob%h?nversi"n' 80 't may be called, not ilighter ^ut certain, and it was with a far Ferdinand c|e en'ered Mr. Stanhope's study, as the square, thu^ 'e door and walked across feel again, so ùe Lady Fedora had expected ever to (hope's had she been by Mr. Stan- As Ferdinand ""atlff' (Purvis watched him acrORS the square Mrs. j What had ha|.pene^ an upper window. (looked so dejected and ca^ .8,le wondered he i»omethino veiy grave. Mon,?Wn that must be °nly thing that worried »n general, the (â not been up to see her for even'V! ^et had i'Was strange. seconds. It By which it might almost have hoo- ⢠that. Mrs. Purvis was Ferdinand's "ttl. inferred -Hess." n °f busi- It was barely six o'clock when Ferdinand i»t. Js father's house, and nearly half-past ten â 6red ",e obode of the Bandits. During tho ° S many an<i conflicting emotions had been Voi K8 an<l torturing him. For the first hour no w ce "Ut that of the gentle Lady Fedora had been heen',>OUn'' but ^dually its dulcet strains had the t[>verP"W(-red by rougher, louder notes, and by ^ine i j ,md tu,'ned into the Military Club to Whl6 ,be«un to hear only the talk of the hot be lere'to wonder why he should ?8 he hart h er "IK" were> (>n,y» perhaps, not so bad her of late. Ah) Cvdy Fedora, with all "bout Ferdinand, could scarcely dinner jn eP'h of that badness He ate his b h^ur°8e, mood without speaking to boating' eard talk going on aroundâturf, Bnd his morbj^ aV9, Ferdinand shook himself, Beemed to dje » 'ncreasing as his mother's voice tance, he asked .er Hr,d further into the dis- Bhould he asked t"mself what he was that he things to please a j;:1Ve up all these pleasant chatted so easily of '"an surely those men who IPecked and worried P'easures were not hen- "Come and Dlay a DJ Waa- had asked hi,n? at billi*rds, Stanhope," i0' ',e was hanged if lii-f of a Milliard table, and^u*011!^ » hated the hi,n to frenzyâhe °hck of the balls !to £ £ ar,«rto ten! He Woufdnced at the clockâ 'him ? uS eome congenial spiriF?i10 tbe Bandits *>nlv'Jie l,ad not Promised he w0u!rtFe would cheer cS Parn°Tised hi« mother he go there- Qe oi?1? eiv« up gambling d not touch a ? thin* £ whataf°ol he had been to t he not'inl^Hf'og to thinks Prom'sesuch °?6 Cw hil»-"elf more heavUy ^"n Hlld Roisters of cnn e turned saint and retired int8?^" he?d°finC0^on, would he not be 'jeer^thf theSequen,1y refuse" by. h!s chu'118, who would of flying fee.blm that temporary relief in i WnkinL^ c|inginir wiS T P°or perdinand | ,t1an ? ° fche usual tenacity of a were e 8ubJect of his evident annoy- ance was evidently the best course to pursue, but to meet the views of his companions and act in accordance with his promise to his mother was hy no means so easy since come and have a gamble" was the refrain of their conversation, while "I will never touch a card again was the promise he uttered more than once under the stronp pressureâ as he was beginning to call itâwhich Lady Fedora had brought to bear on him. Again and again they asked him to join them as usual, but the staunchness which was the strong characteris- tic of most of the Stanhopes did n^t absolutely slumber even in this weak member, and he was re- soluteâlike most, feeble people, brutally resoluteâ that he would not touch a card that nightâalmost breaking down his resolve to he politic with his companions for help's sake, till Blain, who was, per- haps, as little vicious as any Bandit, there, sug- gested that, if Ferdinand would not play at least he might come and watch them, and put a little monny on for luck's sake. d To which change in the programme Ferdinand at once agreed; he had m*de no promise about looking on and betting. Good, inno.'ent La<iy Fedora, she knew naught of this side of the picture âplaying at cards and having bad luck was her idea of gambling. Could she, about two hours later, have seen her Ferdinand, whom she fondly hoped was back at H.iunslow in bed and asleep, she would perchance have formed a new and by no means pleasing idea of how ruin may be effected by gambling without the touching of a single card. It was not of his mother that Ferdinand was thinking thenâhe had longsi nee forgotten her warn- ings; or if occasionally a sad glance from hersott eves would see in for a moment to dwell on his downward course, it only seemed to madden him and make him play the higher, since nothing but excitement would silence the remorse that any thought of Lady Fedora would awaken in the future. â Unhappy, misguided Ferdinand! Fr_>m the moment he entered the haunt of the Bandits that night his ruin seemed inevitable, though, in ac- cordance with the usual caprice of clmnce, for the first half hour after the play began he had backed the hand of a man called Dantry, a half foreigner, and an adept in games of skill, especially ecarte, and had won close upon eighty pm>nds; then the tide had turned, or, perchance, D-tntrys brain was less clear, and by the time the neigh- bouring clocks had struck one, Ferdinand had lost two hundred and fifty pounds-"a mere nothing for a SUnhope," said some of the lookers-on. They little knew to what a heavy total this sum had to be added, or at what a low ebb were already the fortunes of the Stanhopes. Ferdinand, however, knew it well, and though he had been sipping alcohol all the evening, though no habitual drunkard, the announcement of the figure seemed at once to recall his wander- ing senses; and if he hAd looked jaded and out of spirits when he entered the club, it was with such a dejected mien that lie might have been on the very verge of suicide that he left it. The fresh night air to a degree, however, cooled his fevered brain, and instead of returning to Eaton-square, where he had a latch-key, to sleep, he wandered about the streets till morning, scarcely listing where he went or what occurred in fact, he was more th*n once in danger of being taken up by the police for a suspicious character. At last he reached the station, and sat down in the waiting-room till the first train to Hounslow should start. More than once he had thought of going to Eaton-square and having a talk with Mrs. Purvis. but he felt that he could not face his mother; he must communicate with Purvis in some other way besides, he did not wish his family to know that he had not returned to Hobnslow on the pre- ceding day. No Bandit would tell them of that he felt sure; their league was a secret one. Light, however, cannot usually be hid under a bushel, nor was Ferdinand's. A pair of observant eyes watched him at the station that morning, and though he did not see, and seeing would not have recognised, Tom Chil- ton, yet that acute individual thoroughly made up his mind that the big man, who looked as if he had been up any number of consecutive nights, was none other than Mr. Ferdinand Stanhope, whom he had not seen for more than two years. and who certainly had not ihaproved in appearance in the interval. CHAPTER VI. EYES INTO EYES. Money affairs are at such a low ebb with the Stanhopes, though the world knows it not that it is impossible for them to give a ball, as thev had always promised themselves to do, when Irene came out. In fact, it is only by borrowing at a heavy interest that Mr. Stanhope is able to struggle through the season without letting the house in Eaton-square. He has made this effort for Irene's sake, because he does not think it right that her brothers should have all the advantages, while she is deprived of that first plunge into life from which the brilliancy or dimness of most girls' fortunes date. One of the grandest fdtes of the year is then chosen for Irene's debut, which is to be m«t^e at the Russian Ambassador's ball in the last Week in May. Her presentation at Court is put off till the fol- lowing spring, since, owing to the hesitation *bout bringing her out at all, most of the drawing-rooms have been allowed to pass and, though not natu- rally mercenary people, it is devoutly hoped by both her parents that when she is presented it will be as a bride. Mr. Stanhope, now that he has begun to talfe on business matters with his wife, impresses it °11 her very strongly that Irene must marry that season since it will be quite impossible for him to â;Ve her another chance. Sweet, innocent Irene, dressed in virginal wh;tP i She trips down the staircase to receive a Cek bouquet Mr Stanhope has ordered for her fj.^ Covent Garden expressly for this ball, and which he is holding there ready to give her. 4," looks up in his face with her soft eyes, and kigses him. While pressing to his heart the victim he has decided to make her, she says: I. Wish me lots of enjoyment and a happy even- ing, papa." I do, my child, I do," he answers with a gort of wince, as if the edges of a presentiment are cutting him, and then -lie passes on into his stUdy and closes the door. Recent troubles had rendered Mr. Stanhope far too low-spirited to think of accompanying his wife and daughter to this ball. They arrived there when the festivity was at its height. Lady Fedora had no idea that the debut from which she ex- pected so much should be made in half-emply rooms. If Irene was to produce any effect at "II it should be on a crowd nor was Lady Fedora dis- appointed. Innocence and beauty have ne\7er yet failed to make their mark, and niaoy were the whispers of "Who is the débutante 7 How lovely she is!" That reached Lady Fedora's ears, nor could Irene fail to notiPW the buzz of admiration that followed her steps and, instead of making her shy, as Lady Fedoifl' had half feared it would, it seemed to raise her spirits and her self-esteem. Never did Lady Fedor* remember to have seen her child look so spar lj. linglyand bewilderingly beautiful as she did that night. She was a true Stanhope; and, rising at once to the exigency of the occasion, she arranged her dances and parried her partners' compliments avS if she were accustomed to the whole programme. And among the bevy of men who flocked about Irene, solicitous for her hand in the dance, Was there one, Lady Fedora wonderedâwhile she looked from one to the other of themâwho was a. sufficiently good parti to claim that little hand for life ? There was the Honourable Julius Blain, with a prospective coronet; the Earl of Monkfieln with a newly-acquired title; Mr. Rudge Jeston, with enough bioad acres to counterbalance the absence of blue blood, and considered by most mothers the parti of the year. Oh, they were a goodly assemblage, and they basked in Irene's smiles and pretty taking ways, till the sight of her daughter's triumph made ¡¡-on!} loving Lady Fedora's heart flutter, and so engrosser was she in watchingthe scone that was being played out close to her that she failed to look beyond the compliments of those butterfly adorers, or to allow her ejes to wander even for one brief moment, to the face of a tall, dark man. who. standing with his back against the wall, never removed his gaze from Irene; he had not asked to be presented to her; he made no sign of admiration, save thatrivetted, silent gaze; and the dark, deep-set eyes that watched her bore so mournful an ex- pression that it seemed almost as if he regarded her as a memory rather than the embodiment of a sweet vision of to-day. He was not a very young man; there was room in his life for. memories. The once black hair about his temples was sprinkled with grey, and round about the deep-set eyes the hand of Time had set its stamp yet, for all this, not only in the past, but now, Prince Sergius Lenskoff was reckoned one of the handsomest men of his day, and to find favour in his eyes was a boon for which many a fashionable beauty in more capitals than that of England craved. He had known Henry Stanhope well in years gone by, when the Englishman was an attach^ at the Russian Court, and Prince Sergius, some ten years younger, was making his first plunge into the vortex, and was enjoying to the full the many pleasures St. Petersburg can offer. They had met but seldom since those joyous, careless davs of their youthâtheir paths had been along different roads that intimacy had been im- possibleâ once or twice only at a cheery teie-a-tcte som^c"1 l>aris« during which they talked over rhp hp ">e 0ScaPades in which they had played fven Now, for some years, they had not Prince nor Henry Stanhope know that lnTh««!'e,US WHS in London. widower tho wor,,J Prince Sergius was a np 0f thosn f 2wer witl' an enormous fortune, s;i«.n^ixioru'n" which only few nobles In Yet no mother would have regarded Prince Sergius as &partt, or imagined the chance of his marrying a lair young beauty as otherwise than most remote and already had he been marked dangerous. With the facility the Russians have for languages he spoke English perfectly, and French like a native; his manners, when he chose, were as courteous and urbane as Henry Stanhope's own, but there were times when no man better under- stood how to play the churl. It seemed to those more or less acquainted with him that he w*s decidedly in a churlish mood at the Ambassador's ball, for he never left his place by the wall nor addressed a word to anyone, and as he was not the sort of man from whom people courted a gratuit- ous snub, no one ventured to address him. He had thus perfect opportunity to feast his eyes on Irene's beauty, and watch her graceful form gliding through the figures of the mazy dance, muttering to himself every now and again with bated breathâ "Henry Stanhope's daughter; so she is Henry Stanhope's daughter." Once, and once only, he bestowed a glance on Lady Fedora, but speedily returned it to Irene. Henry Stanhope's wife had evidently not awakened I the same interest in his heart as had his child. And yet, after a long, long while passed in gazing I and thinking, he sought the Ambassadress, and begged her to present him to Lady Fedora Stan- hope, the wife of his old friend. One less practised in savoir faire would have ignored the mother and have sought an introduc- tion to the girl, but Prince Sergius was a stickler for etiquette, and he knew, moreover, that people for etiquette, and he knew, moreover, that people like the Stanhopes were unapproachable except with due for, Ladv Feodora was delighted to make Prince Ser- gius' aVquaintance. She had heard milch of him from her husband, who would be pieced to meet her old friend again. In fact. Lady Fedora's gene- rally calm, rep..s. ful manner being tiiken into con- sideration, she became quite gushing in her recep- tion of Prince Sergius, who was not altogether quite as sure a". Lady Fedora was that Henry Stanhope would b8 so very glad to see him. When Irene returned from a visit she had been paying, with one of her partners, to the supper- room, this distinguished-looking foreigner was at once presented to her. She looked at him a little curiously with those clear, candid eves of hers, simply because he was her father's friend. She had not noticed him lean- ing against the wallânot she! She would never forget him, however, now that they had met ffi.es to face, and looked into each other's eyes. What she read in his made her speedilv cast hers down to the ground, and become crimson to the very roots of her hair. It. was .)s.if a sudden revelation had filled her whole soul. What was it? She knew something of love since she had of late been assisting in the somewhat clandestine love nffa'rs of Geoffrey and Phyllis, but, their love wa^ not at all like this, and Irene turned away from Prince Sergius with a little, rapid gesture, that seemed to imply, "I wish I had never seen vou." Lady Fedora thought her rude, and was about either to expostulate or i-xcnse; but the Prince stopped her; he could read Irene's feelings as though thev were written on an open book. He had read many a young, unclo-ed heart before. Mis-! S'anhope will make illowancea," lie said; "I am only a fierce, ugly Russianâno longer voung. But I am her father's old friend." A smile came back to Irene's face at his words. "Fierce and ugly," she repeated. you do not pay yourself high compliments. Prince." He shrugged his shoulders. I love the truth," he repeated, "and while the truth tells me how beautiful you are, it is equally candid in making my own inferiority most appa- rent. Beautv and tho Beast, eh jI It is a fairy story that has been translated into every lan- guage." "You must not flatter Irene, she is too young this is only her first ball to-night," said L'tdy Fedora, protesting, though her heart meanwhile was overflowing wi'h delight. "She has yet to learn how many of the compliments men offer are mere words. "She has yet to learn) hat: I never say what I do not mean," answered the Prince gravely and a little stiffy. It did not exactly please his princeship that he should be classed as "men," and unless Lady Fedora wished to put him down a little, she was, perhaps, just 1\ trifle wanting in her usual tact.. I never dance," he said, offering his arm to Irene; "but if mademoiselle will condescend to walk with me round thpse rooms whieh our Am- bassadress has converted into a perfect bower of beauty, she will, I hope, learn to understand me better." Irene could not refuse; but if she had been gay and at home all the earlier part of the evening, she was shy enough now, as, just touching the Prince's arm with the tips of her little gloved hand, she set off to make the grand tour. Miss Stanhope and Prince Sergius Lenskoff were the observed of all observers. Even Geoffrey, who had arrived late at this ball from some other party, paused to take breath when he passed his sister on the arm of this important-looking Russian. And wherefore? To the set to which the Stan- hopes belonged to meet a foreign prince was an incident of almost daily occurrence. It was the strange attributes, the celebrity that this particu- lar Prince Sergius possessed, which made every- one surprised that he should have singled out Irene for his especial favour. Geoffrey scarcely Ii k"rJ that it should be soâhe knew nothing personal.j of Prince Sergius, but he had overheard several remarks made by ac- quaintances who had not noticed that he was near them. He struggled through the crowd, only bowing to several girls with whom he usually danced, each of whom hoped one day to be the mistress of Warleigh Hall, and eventually he reached the place where Lady Fedora was sitting. What is this, mother; why is Irene walking about with that man ?" he blurted out with more honesty than courtesy. Hush, my dear Geof. I don't understand what you mean. He is Prince Sergius Lenskoff, one of your father's oldest friends." My father's friend I There must be some mis- take. I never heard my father tpeak of him." Before you were bornâbefore he was married your father and Prince Sergius were much together in St. Petersburg." Ah My father has settled down into a family man since then, while Prince Sergiusâ" "Is a widower and admires Irene," whispered his mother. «⢠Don't, Geoffrey, don't be tiresomeâ do let things drift-but. this is no place for conver- sation go and dance, my dear boy, and leave me to take care of your sister." Geoffrey did as she hade him, that is, he went away, but there was a troubled look on his brow, and the idea that the names of Prince Sergius and that of his fair young sister could be coupled even during the fleeting hours of a midsummer fStegave him deep displeasure. Meanwhile Prince Sergius and Irene sat among the roses on a balcony, converted into a bower, as it seemed, especially for them, since no one came to dispute its possession with t.hem. And there they talked the gay momenta away, or rather Prinze Sergius talked, and Irene listened or only answered in monosyllables. A new vista was being opened for her, and, almost staggering with emotion, she felt as if she were standing on the confines of an undiscovered country. And after all what was he «aying? No- thing that put down on paper would not, seem worthless and puerile, hut no man knew better than Prince Sergius how to accompany words of no seeming importance with such glances and such a manner as set his listener all aflame. Irene did not then ask herself whether the feel- ing Prince Sergius was arousing was love or hate she only knew that a strange transformation was changing her whole nature, and that never again in this world would she be the same Irene titan- hope who had started forth that evening to the dllnce, clad in a. sweet simplicity, as unspotted as the dress of virginal white that marked her debut- Wise-looking Lady Fedora never guessed what a new light that h" I f-hnu r's conversation with Prince Sergius would cast on the girl's life. How could she? She had never had the good or evil fortune to meet a man of the type of Prince Sergius Len- skoff. But when at last Irene returned to her motherly chaperonage, she saw at once that she was deeply impressed, and it was with joy the good mother noticed it.. If. as she hoped, Irene had won Prince Sergius and his immense wealth, what, a relief it would be be to hei father's mindâhow he would bless the decision that one more dTnrt should be made to give Irene the chance of this season. The boys, too, what an advantage to them to have Prince Sergius for a brother-in-law. All this being considered, Lady Fedora rose to depart. Come, Irene, you must not stay too late the roses on your cheeks are already beginning to fade." Good, prudent mother; she had no intention of out-staying her triumph, so she fussed off to go downstairs, feeling quite a flutter at her own heart whpn Prince Sergius offered her his arm, Irene followed in the wake alone, none of her now ex- admirers offering to escort her; it seemed as if by common consent they would not interfere with Prince Sergius. Could they have read the girl's future as it was already mapped nut, even while she fo!\nwed her mother to the carriage, they would have pitied her. Was not some portion of it" perhaps, revealed in her already saddened, grave face? The merry-hearted child had set forth joyously to the u id that night; the woman, with a thousand emotions throbbing and contending for place in her heart, drove silently home from it. (To be continued.)




.. .--------GHOSTS AND GHOST…