sat with her chin on her hand, gazing into the heart of the fire.

John Weatherstone from the sofa watched her with a sense of tranquil enjoyment in the picture she made, and the fact that he alone enjoyed it.

A hard day in Court, and a signal victory there, entitled the man to his hour of rest, and those who had met him about town-a keen, shrewd, unreadable lawyer-would hardly have recognized him at this moment, when he allowed "the cares that infest the day" to "fold their tents like the Arabs." Silvery twilight outsidefirelight in the room-a blue wreath of smoke curling above the sofa-the girlish figure yonder-lit by rosy reflections that made her blonde hair glisten, and the rings on her small fingers flash with a thousand sparkles.

Suddenly the spell was broken by Mrs. Weatherstone saying, in a quick, decided little fashion of her own"John, are you asleep?"

66

'Far from it," was the slow answer. "Then listen, dear-and attendwell, attend the way you do when you have your Q.C. gown on. I have a weight on my mind."

"Ah!" with a smile, "who is it this time?"

"It is Donald," she said, throwing out her hands. "I am perfectly wild about the way he has been going on this winter. He'll never get through in May-never-never," impatiently, "and it's most important that he should. He's five-and-twenty."

"Five-and-twenty, as you say," came from the shadowy corner. "But as for his taking his M.D.-why, who ever thought he would. He is unfortunate enough to possess the means to keep him going. One of the gilded

gars with nothing but what they make who study. Look at me. Don't worry over him Betty. He is rather a weight to have on one's mind-about 180 pounds, I fancy."

"Please don't talk nonsense, Jack. If you don't regard Don as a responsibility, I do. We simply can't have him plucked again. Something must be done."

"Well, darling," yawning, "I'll leave it to you with absolute faith in your power to perform what you undertake. Like Kipling's sailor, you are a person of infinite resource and sagacity.'

The man smiled to himself in the dusk. The woman sought counsel

from the fire.

Presently she gave a little start. "I have it John," she said, rising with a light laugh. "I have it-I have itbut poor Donald-O, poor Donald."

"Knowing you, I say poor Donald likewise," said the voice.

"Ah!" cried she, crossing to the sofa, "you won't help me, and we really ought to try and prevent his falling in love with one girl after another, the way he has been doing. If it were only one girl now, we might rejoice, but he is forever flitting about like a like a-"

"Bee over a clover field," he suggested.

"Thanks! yes dear. Quite so-but I was thinking of a gay Lothario. It is always the latest pretty face with Donald, and he will certainly become a flirt-a male flirt-that abomination; or a shiftless, unstable creature who does not know his own mind. If one

could save him from that!"

"Noble mission. But what is he

now?"

"Exactly-and he talks of them incessantly, that is, to me. There have been four since September. First Kitty Wentworth. Now, she was a pleasing enough variety of girl (his taste is exceedingly good), but I grew positively to dread every word that began with K. Kitty,''Kitty,' constant reiteration made the name almost lose meaning. When she went back to Cleveland he turned for consolation to Claudia Atherly. Just the way the man changes pictures in a magic lantern. Claudia is of a higher type of beauty than the other, and I really had reason to think that affair would last. But no; it died a natural death in a few weeks. Next it was a Miss Quintin, though she was out of the questionengaged already. Then came Nell Overton, decidedly the most dangerous of all, but Nell refused to take him seriously. It was serious enough to Donald. He impoverished himself all during January buying her roses. She liked roses, it seemed. At present," sighing, "there is no one in particular. Probably he is worshipping the whole four, and has a mental composite photograph of them hanging on the walls of memory. He will be worse next time on account of this lull."

"Being unaccustomed to lulls of the kind," remarked Weatherstone,

rising. "Well, poor chap, if you intend to marshal him through the Spring Assizes-exams. I mean, he has my sympathy. There is a deadly lot of work ahead of him, and none behind. I can't understand Don. Now, I never was in love but once. Once was enough, sweetheart, for it wrecked my supply of common sense totally, although in sweet compensation I was drifted in a semi-imbecile condition to the shore of Paradise."

"Keep to the subject, Jack," she said softly.

"Donald! Oh, I had rather dropped Donald. If you want an opinion, I think it's a nuisance having one's young and erratic cousins left on one's hands. Probably he'd better go; he has enough to live on."

"He's an orphan," she said, "and this is the only place on earth he can call home. Your mother wished it."

"That's the reason he stays, Betty; and because left to himself it's a question where he'd bring up," said the man, going out.

Three or four days later Mrs. Weatherstone entered her parlour with light, quick step. A smile, a deep, deep smile lay upon her red lips, and shone from the depths of her gray eyes.

In one hand she held a cabinet photograph, which, after great deliberation and trying to place in one position after another, she stood conspicuously on the piano leaning against a Dresden

vase.

"That will do it," she said to herself, going back a little to view the effect.

"That will do it, Elizabeth." Then she waited, filling in the time by playing a waltz.

It was a swinging, swaying melody, with one sweet minor note recurring ever in the bass. A note to watch for. Presently the door opened and a man entered the room. He crossed to the piano with long steps.

Mrs. Weatherstone looked up and nodded. A handsome young fellow this, tall, deep-chested, and with

a

clear-cut, rather discontented face. He thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned against the tail of the grand, taking up the waltz in a low vibrant whistle. The player stopped abruptly -as was her way.

"Please go on-that was divine," said the other. "You can play, Betty." "O, a little," said she, watching him from under her lashes.

"A little!" he returned quickly. "Well, rather. You have the gift." Suddenly noticing the new photograph at his elbow, he took it up, looking at it long and silently.

Mr. Weatherstone still played broken music. Her lips twitched.

She saw Donald turn the picture over. The back was blank, so he turned it face upward again. Then he stared at it.

"By Jove!" he said to himself. "By Jove!"

"Did you speak, Donald ?" she inquired, after a moment.

"No-yes-that is-tell me, Betty -who is she?"

"You must not ask Don-really. I cannot tell you. Not now, anyway. But she is pretty, isn't she?"

"Pretty!" He gave a short laugh. "How like a woman. Why, I never saw such a face; it is perfect. Is she like this, honestly, Betty?"

"That is considered a good likeness, I believe," answered Mrs. Weatherstone.

"Well, who is she? When did you get this? Do you know her, or is she some actress or singer?" returned the young fellow.

"No! no! No actress or singer, and yes, I do know her, by sight. We have smiled at each other often. More music.

Donald Weatherstone stood the charming photograph back slowly, lingeringly.

"I never saw such a face," he said, thoughtfully.

"Where have I heard that remark before," said the other. "Now, Donald, please don't ask questions about this one. She's not for you, and that should settle it. I do not say I could

not manage to have you meet heryour eyes are very pleading-but you are so fickle, Don, and she is not for you."

"Fickle!" he exclaimed impatiently, "Come, I like that."

"Well, you have been devoted to a most outrageous number of fair maidens already. It has been 'lightly come, lightly go,' and you fritter away your time horribly. As for your affections, really, the woman who gets what is left after you are through admiring' all the pretty girls you meet, deserves my pity."

"Don't let it worry you," he said, gloomily. "I am through with such

"Oh! it doesn't worry me at all," answered Mrs. Weatherstone, "not in the least, only sometimes the-the ghosts, as it were of those girls I have heard so much, so very much about, come to trouble me. Remember Kitty Wentworth ?"

There was a smothered word from the other end of the piano. The waltz went on smoothly, serenely.

Weatherstone turned his back to the player and gazed darkly across the pretty room. On swept the dulcet notes, rich, compelling.

"And Claudia ?" said Mrs. Weatherstone.

"You need'nt go over them all, Betty," he said. "Have the goodness to drop it."

"You ought to be able to see what I mean, Don. No one would have the heart to introduce you to this girl. She is still fancy free, and, and altogether too sweet. No, no I will not think of it. John would not like me to. You are so unstable, I could not reconcile it to my conscience."

"Do, Betty," he said, half bashfully, leaning across the piano. "I don't know when I've been so taken with a picture. Do. I thought you were a

friend of mine-that at least I could count on that."

"You need not ask, for I won't, Don. Comfort yourself with

There was a pause.

Then Weatherstone spoke again. "Tell me who she is, anyway, Betty; that won't do any harm.'

A resolute shake of the head and some emphatic chords that ended the music.

He took up the picture again and turned it over. "There's not a mark on it. Where was it made?'

"In town," laughingly.

"And is she really like this, Bettyeyes and hair and all?”

An

The eyes that looked up into the man's face were wonderful. Large, soft, with lashes heavy and curling. The hair was light and abundant. exquisite setting for so much beauty. No nose could have been more charming, no mouth more like a Cupid's bow, an alluring dimple graced the square little chin. This lovely head rose out of a misty background, dark, almost mysterious. It was like a flower broken from the stem. The expression of the face was saint-like, tranquil, even pensive.

"It is a strange sort of face," said Weatherstone, "quite unnaturally beautiful, yet with a peculiar fascination."

"So much soul in it," answered the woman, looking over his shoulder. "So much soul, Donald. Don't you think so?"

"Perhaps that is it ; anyway,

saw anything more lovely."

"Nor I, Donald."

"It is ideal," abstractedly.

I never

"Do you really want to see this— this beauty?"

"What a question!" "But do you?" "Honour bright, my dear Betty, I do-any fellow would."

"Then I'll make a bargain with you. Here it is, February. Now, if you pass your examinations in April-is it? -I'll manage to let you see her-the rest you must do yourself.”

"That's awfully kind of you, but rather a tight bargain. Suppose I fail -after sitting up till cock-crow, reading?"

66

'In your little lexicon must be no

The students of Medicine during the next two months burned the midnight oil, sitting silently in ofttimes chilly rooms, with wet towels bound about their throbbing brows-this perchance that they might later bind them with laurel.

There was not a man of them all who studied harder than Donald Weatherstone, and he won. Then he demanded his reward.

"We'll go down town together, Donald," said Mrs. Weatherstone, "and you shall see her."

It was a heavenly morning. The world had renewed its youth as it does every year when May comes round. Alas! that we follow not its sweet example. The sun shone with a glorious determination to put a gilt edge on everything, and the air blew in, cool and invigorating, from the lake that sparkled away yonder like a line of beaten silver.

The two stepping along briskly together felt that it was a good morning to be alive.

"You haven't thought much about that picture, Donald, have you?" Mrs. Weatherstone asked after a while.

"Haven't had time, but it's been in the background of my mind, so to speak.

"Yes, I understand, behind the Anatomy, Physiology, Materia Medica, and other things. What I meant, Don, was-you won't be very disappointed if-if-"

He wheeled around suddenly. "Am I not to see her, Betty? I understood it was a square thing-a bargain."

"O, yes! yes! do keep cool," she answered, her colour fading a trifle, and a little catch in her voice. "Yes, indeed, you may see her, Donald. She -she is just across the street from here."