heart she had died, they said, of the ruin he had brought upon her. now, on past days and old memories, “I must try and keep her child from making such a sacrifice. I won't think of Jack, we must give him the slip: it wouldn't do, he's too much what I was, and we're not worth it, fellows like Jack and I." And then in his mind arose a more present difficulty. willingly have endured any pain if but a germ of hope lay hidden in it, Robin did none of this; she simply accepted all that "No! no!" he murmured, wiping his she saw he offered her, and taxed his eyes, which of late were apt to grow dim strength to its utmost limits by the out-whenever he dwelt, as he often dwelt spoken, frank affection in which she sought to pay him back, pleasing herself and, as she seemed to think, him by constantly recalling to his mind that pledge they were under to look upon each other as sister and brother. Well! under that subterfuge, so long as it kept him near to be of service to her, he would remain; there would be time and enough of sad opportunity, when he got back into the dull routine of his solitary life to face his difficulties, take himself in hand, and regain the mastery of self control. Christopher never doubted but that this mastery would be his; he forgot that a great teacher has said, "Withstand the beginning, after remedies come too late." Supposing anything did chance to happen to him, and Jack was written to, as soon as he heard of it, if he fancied her left alone to get on as best she could, he'd be safe to come and see what was going to become of her, and if she'd found a home with the Blunts or with somebody they knew, to have a fellow like Jack dropping suddenly down among a straitlaced set would never do. Mr. d In their respectable eyes it would her as completely," he said, "as if CHAPTER XI. "J'ai dans l'esprit une femme comme il y en a peu, qui me préserve des femmes comme il y en a beaucoup." But blind as Robin was for eyes closed by love for one away ofttimes fail to see love that has drawn near Veriker suffered from no short-sighted- she had me constantly at her elbow." ness in this matter. It did not take him long before he had come to a tolerably correct conclusion as to the turn affairs had taken. And how did the knowledge affect him?it filled him by turns with satisfaction and displeasure: satisfaction STRANGELY enough, since Christoinasmuch as Robin married, and his anx-pher's arrival neither Robin nor Mr. Veriety ended, what mattered anything so iker had once mentioned Jack before him. long as she was provided for; and then By tacit consent his name was avoided, came the thought of how this provision and if in telling a story reference was would come about by "that old brute's obliged to be made to him, he was spoken son marrying his daughter, and up of as a friend who happened at the time would leap the fire of enmity fanned into to be one of their party. Even to one flame by a hundred bitter memories, until another they had ceased to talk of him, Mr. Veriker in his wrath and indignation and to the name once so familiar though would swear she had better beg her bread it still lay ever on their tongues - they - he would rather see her marry any one refused utterance. -Jack? oh a thousand times rather Jack than Christopher, that is, so long as Christopher had a father; but fathers could not live forever, and old Blunt, tough as he was, the wrong side of sixty, must drop off some day, and then, surely there was nothing for Robin that he could desire better. She was young, of an age when girls could be tempted into taking fancies; and with as much money as she cared for, to spend, a man who would worship her take her where she liked to go, give her everything she wanted what on earth more could any girl wish for? and yet, all this and more had been offered to her mother! and God reward her! she had flung it aside for his sake, had chosen him, stuck by him, given up all to marry him; and he had broken her "I want papa to forget," Robin would say to herself- "to fancy that I don't think about Jack that I don't care for him any more." Poor child to have it suspected that she had given her love without its being asked or being wanted, seemed a terrible humiliation. For if Jack could not look on her as anything but a child, that her father should still regard her as one was a necessity; and though she well knew that girls sometimes married at her age, and that in some experiences she was older than many women, still the thought of being looked on by those two as forward beyond her years rought blushes to her face, and filled her with shame and confusion. What a relief it was to feel that Chris topher knew nothing of this dear, quiet, sober, matter-of-fac. Christopher! With him she could be free as air without any fear of misinterpretation; she could say what she liked, as she pleased; they could discuss, speculate, argue about everything together, more especially about love, a theme that somehow always came uppermost-led to, Robin believed, by her deires, entered on, Christopher feared, by his hopes. Both professed great ignorance regarding it, and yet each spoke as if from experience - Robin wounding, slaying the tender passion with her tongue, Christopher upholding, pleading for, defending it. ter into his pocket. What was the use of upsetting everything now? He rather thought it was his duty to keep silent and say nothing about it; if he showed her what Jack had written, how could he tell in what way it would affect Robin? besides, beyond the present there was the future to be thought of. The reading of that letter had thrown him into a state of agitation, one by one his fears began to awaken, and with each dull thud of his heart a mournful voice repeated, "Jack must be got rid of, Jack must be got rid of." So with the idea of strengthening his resolution, but in reality as a relief to this fit of nervous emotion, he ran his eyes once more over the paper and then tore it up into atoms, which he threw away. How often in after days — Christopher went over those walks again, holding a knowledge then, which shed a light on each discussion. Carried away, he would seem to stand on the very spot where the words were said; the surroundings of the scene a cruelly faithful memory brought before him. Above, the stars; below, the sea-a forest of gondolas moored around the steps close by which they were stand-in similar circumstances. ing. Sometimes, tempted by the beauty of the night, they would step into one of these and be rowed out to San Giorgio. Perhaps the consciousness of this deception disposed Mr. Veriker to be the whole of the ensuing day more than usu ally critical with Christopher, so that, strive as he might, he could not help comparing everything he said or did with what Jack would have said or would have done As long as he lived, Christopher never forgot one of those evenings, nor the enchantment in which they had enthralled him. "Oh! how we shall miss him when he is gone, "Robin said over and over again to her father. It had been arranged that the afternoon should be devoted to visiting Murano. The weather was perfect: an opal sky, an azure sea, with a filmy mist which softened without obscuring all it fell upon. Never before had Christopher felt himself so entirely under the influence of this external beauty; it seemed to enslave his imagination, to attack his senses so that he became absent and dreamy; and Robin, noticing his humor, began to twit him Of late, more especially for the last ten on his idleness and want of energy. Asdays or so, he had been constantly dwell-sisted by her father, soon a dozen opening on the possibility of Robin herself having the desire to care for Christopher. "She's got sense enough," he said to himself, "and, it's my belief, sees that it would be a good thing for her - that keep ing mum about Jack, never dropping a syllable about him, shows to my mind that the wind's in that direction.” And Mr. Veriker agreed with her. ings were given, each of which a more ready man would have seized on as an opportunity for furthering his suit; but for two reasons Christopher said nothing to the purpose in the first place, the gift of ready speech had been denied him; in the second, his feelings were too earnest to find outlet in froth. Shallow waters run their course noisily; deep rivers flow silently. And then he would sigh and premise that it was the best thing that could happen, particularly if she thought so. Wom- To gauge Christopher, therefore, was en were odd fish, 'twas of no use men try- beyond the depth of Mr. Veriker's power ing to fathom them. He had thought she - remembering his own successes, his meant to break her heart over Jack. theory was that women as a rule give their "Poor old Jack!" He felt quite sorry for love to those best practised in the art of him, grew sentimental each time he winning it. What was the good of sitthought of him, until a certain day when ting mum and saying nothing? a beg: happily Robin was not with him - agar that is dumb, you know. Ah, yes, letter was brought to him, a letter from he said to himself, "a beggar that is Jack full of reproaches that he had been dumb!" but that dumb beggar had eyes left so long a time without hearing a word to look out of, not to see with, which is about them. about all the use poor Christopher can make of his. And this led him to a men Full of alarm, Mr. Veriker put this let tal survey of Jack's face, which had always been a puzzle to him, inasmuch as he knew, that so far as actual good looks went, his own beat it. "But for real downright mischief," he mused reflectively, upon my life, I'd back Jack's phisog. against any other," and without altering his position or letting his eyes wander to where Christopher and Robin were sitting, he conjured up the two he had so often seen there together-remembered how his weak nature had made him go back with Paolo so that he might avoid the embarrassment of feeling he ought to look after them. A side glance stolen at Robin showed him a head drooped, a face dreamy with a shadowed sadness in the far-off gaze of eyes which smote his heart heavily with in him. Was it of Jack she was thinking? Poor child, why had he not looked after them better? Surely it might have struck any man who knew Jack as he did, that it was the right thing to do and then, as a salve to the course he had now taken, came the probability that a thousand to one in spite of all he had written, by this time Jack had found friends and was in the way of soon being caught by new faces. Times out of number when Robin was in pinafores, he had known Jack in love · furiously smitten, worked up to the white heat of passion, so that all his friends were betting on the fool he was about to make of himself; and in the very thick of it all, some fine morning, everybody awoke to learn that Jack was gone - had left the place, nobody, his inamorata included, able to guess for where, or for what earthly reason. Every one had some conjecture to hazard, but it never occurred to any one, and certainly not to Mr. Veriker, to be within a mile of the truth, which generally was, that at a certain point of sliding Jack had suddenly pulled himself up, looked temptation in the face, and in the battle which ensued had come off so far conqueror that he had strength left to run away from his danger. It was this habit that had stood him in good stead when he had made up his mind concerning Robin, with the difference that in place of striving to rid himself of every recollection, Jack carried away Robin's face enshrined in his in most heart. The knowledge that she loved him he treasured as a talisman to help him to get on, and to protect him from evil. "Bless her! bless her!" he would say, pressing to his lips an old faded photograph taken in the early days when Robin wore short petticoats and her hair hung loose down her back. Below in crooked, cramped letters she had written then, "Your own, your very own Robin." "And so she is still!" Jack would tell himself triumphantly. "I don't believe it has ever entered her head to give a single thought to any other man." The result of Jack's past made this certainty score a great deal for Robin, and then absence, occupation, a strange place, with not a creature he knew, all helped to fan a flame which, under other circumstances or elsewhere, might by this time have flickered very low. Jack had always been a bad correspondent, and unless one wanted something or the other, during any of the times they had been apart, very few letters had passed between him and the Verikers. Now, much as he would have liked to write and hear from Robin, the same sense of honor which had closed his lips fettered his pen; to write to her the every-day commonplace letter of a friend was impossible, and by her silence he judged that she was under the same influence. But this feeling had nothing to do with Mr. Veriker, whom Jack anathematized from a free vocabulary as the most selfish, the laziest fellow the earth contained. Oh, if he only had him near! for words easy to say have an ugly look on paper, and Jack had to content himself by a somewhat curt epistle, asking in straightforward English to be informed what they were about, where they were going, and what they were meaning to do, and it was this very letter which, reaching Mr. Veriker, had caused him such perplexity. More than a week had gone by since he had received it, and so far nothing was done. Every morning he awoke with the determination to write to Jack, but the day passed and the night came, and he went to bed again not having done it. Happily for his decision, it was at length in a way forced by a conversation with Christopher, in which he related with much satisfaction certain portions of a letter received by him that morning from his father. Mr. Blunt acknowledged himself very satisfied with the reports which had been given him; he asked question after question regarding Robin, and he particularly desired, as he wished to see what she was like, that Christopher should bring back a photograph of her. There seemed no doubt then, but that when she needed it — and a terrible conviction was forced on him that need it soon she would a home with these relations would be offered her, and if so Jack must be got rid of, put altogether off their scent, and the sooner it was done the better. The following day Mr. Veriker excused himself from the afternoon expedition. Under the plea of lying down to get some rest he would secure the opportunity of writing Jack a letter. The paper lay upon the table, the pen was in his hand, only the words to say were not ready. The poor battered conscience which had slept undisturbedly through many a doubtful transaction was suddenly up in arms, and Mr. Veriker lacked all heart to quiet it. Until now, it had not come to him how much he cared for Jack-valued his good opinion - enjoyed his fellowship; and he was going to fling all these away, cut himself off from him altogether. Already his memory had travelled back to bygone days; he was going through past scenes - remembering forgotten debts, old obligations. It was true that Jack had a habit of saying hard things, and at times made you feel a terrible rough tongue of his own, but for sticking to his word and never sneaking out of it if things went wrong, he hadn't his fellow The afternoon had slipped away, but Mr. Veriker was but very little advanced with his letter, and yet it must be written; for Robin's sake he must make the sacrifice, it was the only amends he could make her. So with as much jauntiness as he could find expression for, he informed Jack that he felt wonderfully better, but not so well as he yet meant to be when they found a place with more sun, and fewer people from their own country. "It's up stick, and away now from Venice, so until we find another resting-place you won't hear from us. I have the address you left to write to in case of necessity, but there's little fear but what you will get some news of us before you move from where you're now hanging out." Then followed a rhodomontade respecting his health and his hopes of speedily getting quite well again, an invented message or two from Robin, and he signed his name and it was finished. Sealed and directed, he sat with it in his hand, with his eyes, looking straight before him, fixed in vacancy. Suddenly he buried his face in his arms. Even when alone men seek to hide their tears, and this treachery to Jack seemed the warrant of his own death -in casting him off he was giving up his last, lingering hopes of life. CHAPTER XII. "Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!" IT was Christopher's last evening in Venice; he was to start the next day, and he, and Robin, and Mr. Veriker were full of those promises, agreements, stipulations, which friends at parting make together. Each had some confidence to impart, something particular to say. best said when only one was with the other; and, in consequence, a series of stratagems were resorted to, and kept up on Mr. Veriker's part to get rid of Robin, and in the case of Robin and Christopher to get rid of Mr. Veriker. In this the two latter had just succeeded. Christopher wanted to have a last look of sunset from the public gardens, and he had asked Robin to go with him there. "We won't include you," he said to Mr. Veriker, "because it might make you feel tired, and you and I will want to have our talk later." In the Via Garibaldi, as is usual, a crowd of loiterers were looking in at the shop windows, before which neither Christopher nor Robin cared to linger. They walked briskly, talking of indifferent subjects until they reached the entrance of the gardens, which, except for a few old men and some women clustered together, were deserted. "Shall we go to the end to our favorite seat?" asked Robin, leading the way. Christopher followed her he was full of that dumb pain which hangs on our spirits and is a weight on our tongues; he wanted Robin to know how much he suffered at parting with her, and he could find no words in which to tell her. The seat reached a tumble-down affair backed by some thick, feathery tamarisk trees they sat down, and for some time, without speaking, watched the "orb's departing glory." Robin's thoughts ran on many things; Christopher's on one. Dare he venture to take her hand? almost fearing to meet her look, he took it. Startled, Robin turned quickly round, but only to smile at him encouragingly, and clasp the palm which trembled next her own. A lump of lead seemed to sink within Christopher; with quick pressure he took his hand away. What a terrible jar to love is mere affection! Jewelled with islands, there spread out before them, lay the golden sea, girt round with outlined chain of snowy peaks. The fishing-boats, with orange sails, were dot ted here and there waiting for the wind, a | of rare beauty, had a face which steals gentle breeze of which already was being wafted from afar. "Robin!" Christopher in desperation at length exclaimed, "you'll think of me sometimes, won't you?' Her thoughts had wandered off to Jack. It was he who had taught her to feel the beauty of a scene like this. "Think of you! yes," rousing herself, "and very often too." "That's right"-how his sentences seemed jerked out to-night; his heart kept up such a thudding that he had no breath to give his speech the measure it usually had. "And whatever you want in any way you're to write to me- you'll remember that?" "I'm not likely to forget," and she smiled sadly, "considering I have no one in the world who cares to be of use to me - but you." Should he tell her? It was madness, he knew, but yet, oh the sick longing that came into his heart! Involuntarily he shut his eyes, opening them to find Robin | looking at him. "The glare dazzles you," she said. Alas! instead of the despair which Jack would have called up to his aid, Christopher's face showed nothing but that his eyes were weak and filled with water. "I ought not to look at the sun," he said bitterly, and he put up his hand and pressed his fingers tight, striving to keep back that torrent which was sapping all his strength. Futile vain! hopeless! none knew better than himself, were any words which he might now say Robin did not love him, in that never for a moment had he been deceived; his deception lay in the belief that as yet she did not know love, and in the cherished hope that at some distant far-off day to come, it might be his to teach the lesson. And nurturing this hope, fed by a thousand specious arguments, Christopher would conjure up his own image, scan his appearance, examine into his advantages, trying to discover if he possessed one single merit that could prove a lure by which the heart he coveted might be caught. He too had a photograph of Robin to look at the one lately taken at Vianelli's to show to his father and in his own room, when alone, he would take it from out its many coverings, and hold it before him feasting his eyes. Fool! madman that he was ever to dream that she could be won by him. For Robin, without possessing the gift away men's hearts: there was in it a mixture of childlike innocence and daring sauciness-she could look tears and smile sunshine. Then her light-heartedness and gaiety of disposition, inherited from her father, were a species of subtle intoxication far removed from the effect of high spirits, which she did not possess, and which when not shared in makes companions sad. Robin had rather the art of adapting herself to every one's humor, and while doing so the power of gradually imparting to them her own. The opportunity of making girl friends had never been given her. Mr. Veriker had kept aloof from the society of women it was a tribute to the love in which he held his wife's memory, that, being in the prime of life and very handsome, he pointedly avoided seeking any femi. nine intimacy. Those who had the hardihood to disregard this avoidance and to thrust themselves on him, he protected his daughter from, and as whenever Jack was with them he had a worthy coadjutor in him -the world of women was a terra incognita to Robin. Was it from this reason that she was so utterly devoid of the small the petty weaknesses common to many of her sex? She knew that she was pretty, and openly showed the pleasure she took in the fact; but of vanity-in its true meaning — she had none. Candid, frank, open, the girl with good training might have been perfect; as it was, left to run wild with no pruning, she lacked many of those moral conditions without which no character can be duly balanced. It must not be supposed that Christopher was blind to the faults he saw in her, neither could he turn a deaf ear to some things which pained him inex pressibly. "Careful as Mr. Veriker strove to be, and anxious as he was to appear at his best before Christopher, as a fig tree cannot bring forth thistles, nor a grape thorns, neither can a man whose morality is easy, call up virtues to asume at will.' Mr. Veriker would talk of people to Robin, tell stories before her, at which Christopher who had given her wings - would feel his hair stand on end, and |