tunate land speculation, I had money enough to supply my wants for a few years to come; so I returned to England, resolved to beat out a practice somewhere. For Of course, the first person I went to see was John. He was my brother - my only brother, indeed, the one tie I had to England. We were a couple of orphans, but pretty sturdy ones withal, and well able to wrestle with the world. tunately, our father lived until his eldest son was of an age to carry on his snug country practice; so John still occupied the old red-brick house in the main street of the little town of Dalebury, the same brass plate on the door doing duty for him as for his father before him. I found old John - so his closest friends ever called him - little changed: rather graver in mien, perhaps, but with the same honest eyes and kindly smile, winning at once the confidence, and soon the love, of men and women. As we clasped hands and looked in each other's faces, we knew that the years which had made men of us had only deepened our boyish love. Her last letters of all recall her wearing anxiety when he had to speak at Edinburgh, and her overwhelming triumph in his success. She tells Carlyle how she went to the Royal Institution to see Mr. Tyndall, one of the kindest and most useful friends of Carlyle's later years. "It is," as she innocently fancies, "the event of Tyndall's life." As she came away she noticed for the first time officials hurrying about, and she asked with surprise. if there was to be lecturing there to-day. There is one letter more. "The last words her hand ever wrote! Why should 1 tear my heart by reading them so often?" She little thought that strangers would make it their business to assail through her her husband's memory by resuscitating the neglects and misunderstandings which she had long forgiven. It would have been better that defects of temper and superficial dissensions should never have become subjects of public discussion; but the mischief which has been done, though it can neither be re-cornervoked nor repaired, may perhaps be in some small degree mitigated by a protest from one who knew them both. G. S. VENABLES. From Blackwood's Magazine. CHAPTER I. It was pleasant, very pleasant for a wanderer like myself to find such a welcome awaiting him. It was good to sit once more in that cosy old room and talk with John late into the night, discussing all that had happened since last we sat there. I had many questions to ask. Dalebury is only a little town. Having been born and bred there, I knew all the inhabitants. I had not been abroad long enough to forget old friends, so I plied John with many inquiries as to the fate of one or another. After a while I asked,"Who lives now in the old house at the where the Tanners lived once? "A widow lady and her daughter, named Dorvaux." "French I suppose, from the name? "No, I believe not. Her late husband was French; but as far as I have learned, Mrs. Dorvaux is an Englishwoman." "New-comers! They must be quite an acquisition to Dalebury. Are they pleas ant people? "I don't know, at least, I only know the daughter. She is very beautiful," added John, with something very much My quick ears caught the suspicious sound. Could I be on the eve of an interesting discovery? I HAD spent some years in the colonies, doctoring diggers and the like rough-and-like a sigh. ready folks. The novelty of the strange scenes and free-and-easy life had at last worn off, and I found myself sighing for the respectability of broadcloth and a settled position in my profession. Aided somewhat by thrift, and more by a for "Very beautiful, is she? And what may her Christian name be?” "Fleurette Fleurette," replied John, repeating the soft French name, and lin- | was not all sweetness to her. At times gering upon it as though it were sweet to his lips, like wine. her bright brown eyes looked even grave and serious, and the smile, ever on her Then he changed the conversation, and lips as she spoke, softened to a pensive far away we drifted from beautiful maid- smile. The first impression she made on ens and musical names as I recounted me, the idea that she was only a brilliant some of my colonial exploits, how I little butterfly thing, left me, and I hashad treated strange accidents, out-of-the-tened to atone mentally for the wrong I way diseases, ghastly gunshot wounds; had done her, thinking, I am for once till our talk became purely professional, mistaken; the girl has plenty of sense, and without cheerfulness or interest for and, likely enough will and purpose in the laity. that pretty head of hers. However, grave or gay, wise or foolish, I saw in Fleurette Dorvaux a beautiful girl, and pictured woe for many a youth in Dalebury. I spent the next day in looking up old friends and neighbors. I had brought money back with me, not very much, it is true, but rumor had been kind enough to magnify the amount, so every one was glad to see me. Mind, I don't say this cynically; I only mean that, leaving the nuisance of appeals to the pocket, for old sake's sake, out of the question, all must feel greater pleasure at seeing a rolling stone come back fairly coated with moss than scraped bare. So all my old friends made much of me, and I wondered why the world in general should be accused of forgetfulness. Whilst I was at one house, another visitor entered, and I was introduced to Miss Dorvaux. As I heard her name, the recollection of my grave brother's midnight sigh made me look at her intently and curiously more so, I fear, than politeness allowed. Fleurette and her mother came to Dalebury some twelve months ago, and John, whose heart had been proof against all local charms, had at once surrendered. There was something in the girl so different from all others. Her beauty, her gracefulness, even her pretty little foreign ways, had taken him by storm; and as far as I can judge from the symptoms he described, his case was very soon as des Now you must decide for yourself as to whether Fleurette Dorvaux was beautiful. When I say, candidly, only one person in the world admires her more than I do, only one person is her more devoted slave than I am, I confess myself a partial wit-perate as that of a boy of twenty. It may ness, whose testimony carries little weight. But to my eyes that day Fleurette appeared this. About twenty years of age; scarcely middle height, but with a dainty, rounded figure; brunette, with dark-brown eyes, long black lashes, making those eyes look darker, such black eyebrows and such black hair! nose, mouth, and chin as perfect as could be: such a bright, bonny, lively little woman! Not, I decided at first, the wife for a hard-working, sober doctor like John Penn. Stay is the girl so bright, so lively, after all? On her entry she had greeted my friends with a gay laugh and merry words, emphasized with vivacious little French gestures, and for a few minutes she was all life and sunshine. She seemed interested when she heard my name, and with easy grace began talking to me thoughtfully and sensibly. As she talked, something in her manner told me that life be, the very strength of the constitution which had so long defied love made the fever rage more fiercely. Yet, severe as the attack was, the cure seemed easy enough. He had a comfortable home and a good income to be shared; so he set to work seriously to win Fleurette's love. All seemed going on as well as could be wished; the girl appeared happy in his society, and, if she showed him no tangible marks of preference, pleased and flattered by his attentions. Yet at last, when he asked her to be his wife, she refused him-sweetly and sadly, it is true, but nevertheless firmly refused him. Now although I being four years young. er, and, moreover, his brother, choose to laugh at John-call him grave, sober, and old you must understand this is all in jest and by way of good-fellowship, and that John Penn was a man any girl should be proud of winning. He was no hero, or genius, or anything of that sort; but then most of us move among ordinary men and women, and only know heroes, heroines, and geniuses, as we know princes and dukes, by name. He was a clever, hardworking doctor, with a good provincial practice. Modesty deters me from saying much about his personal appearance, as the world sees a strong likeness between us. I will only say he was tall and wellbuilt, and carried in his face a certain look of power, which right-minded women like to see with men who seek their love. His age was something over thirty. Our family was good and our name unsullied. What could have induced Fleurette Dorvaux to reject him? Beautiful she might be; but the times are mercenary, and beautiful girls don't win the love of a man like John every day in the week. Although John told me all about it in a cynical sort of way, which sat upon him as badly as another man's coat might, he could not conceal from me how deeply wounded he was how disappointed and how intense had been his love for the girl. As he finished his recital I grasped his hand, saying, with the assurance of one who has seen much life, "Hard work is the best antidote, and you seem to have plenty of that you will forget all about it in time, old fellow." "I don't think I shall. I feel like a man who, having been kept in twilight all his life, is shown the sun for an hour, and then again put back into twilight. He will forget the sun no more than I shall forget Fleurette." "She seemed to me such a sweet girl," I said doubtfully. "She is perfect," said John. "You have seen nothing of her as yet. Wait until you can fathom the depths of thought and feeling under that bright exterior. Then you will say I was not wrong in loving her as I did as I do even now.' "Has any one else won her? Was that the reason she refused you? "No one. She loves me, and me only." "What do you mean?" I asked greatly surprised. "That evening when she told me firmly and decisively she would never marry me - never could marry me, even whilst I said mad, cruel words to her, I saw love in her tearful eyes. And when, forgetting all, I held her and kissed her once, and once only, I felt her lips linger on mine. Then she broke away and fled; but I know such a woman as Fleurette Dorvaux would not suffer a man's kiss unless she loved him. She wrote me a few lines the next day, telling me it could not be, begging me not even to ask her why. Since then she shuns me, and all is at an end; so please talk no more about it." Here was a nice complication! Here was a knot to untie! John refused by a girl who loved him! I own I was glad to hear him assert his belief in her love, as, somehow, it pained me to think of Fleu rette sporting with a man's heart. Although, as I told you, I determined, at first, that she was not the right wife for John, I had soon recanted, and thought now how she would light up the old house, and how happy John would be with such a bright little woman to greet him when he returned of an evening weary and fagged. So I resolved to see all I could of Fleurette, to study her, and if I found her as good as John said, to use my skill in untying the knot and smoothing the strands of their lives. I never doubted my ability to arrange the matter. I had always been an able family diplomatist. Had I not, at New Durham, brought Roaring Tom Mayne back to his faithful but deserted wife, and seen them commence life together again with courage and contentment? Had I not made those two old friends and partners, who for some time had been prowling about with revolvers in their pockets, hoping to get a snap shot at each other, shake hands, and, eventually, left them working a new claim together? Had I not stopped pretty Polly Smith from running away with that scamp Dick Long, who had two or three wives already, somewhere up country? In fact, so successful had I been in arranging other people's affairs, that it seemed to an experienced hand like myself an easy matter.to place John and Fleurette on a proper footing. Its ene Dalebury is a very little town. mies even call it a village; but as we boast of a mayor and a corporation, we can afford to treat their sneers with contempt. Different people may hold different opinions as to whether life is pleasanter in large cities or small towns; but at any rate, one advantage a small place like Dalebury offers is, that everybody knows everything about every one else. You cannot hide a farthing rushlight under a bushel. So if anybody has anything to keep secret, don't let him pitch his tent in Dalebury. With the universal knowledge of one's neighbors' affairs pervading the Dalebury atmosphere, it is not strange that the first person I chose to ask hastened to give 3 me all the information respecting the Dorvaux that Dalebury had as yet been able to acquire. Mrs. Dorvaux was a widow; not rich, but, it was supposed, fairly well off: she was a great invalid, and rarely or never went out. Appearing to dislike society, she received no one, and scarcely any one knew her. Those with whom she had been brought in contact stated she was a quiet, ladylike woman, who spoke very little. It was not known from whence they had come probably France; but this was only conjecture, and the absence of certainty rather distressed Dalebury. They kept only one servant, an old woman, who had been with them many years. Fleurette had made many friends, and, it seemed, few, if any, enemies. She did not go out much, being devoted to her invalid mother; but every one was glad of her company when she chose to give it. Al together, Dalebury had nothing to say against the new-comers — a fact speaking volumes in their favor. After this, as we were such near neighbors, I used frequently to encounter Fleurette, and would often join her and walk with her. Whether she knew that John's secret was mine, I could not say, but she met my friendly advances half-way. The more I saw of her, the more I wondered how I could have thought her so lively and gay. Whatever she might seem to others, there was, to me at least, a vein of thoughtful sadness in the girl's character at times I even fancied it ap proached to despondency; and I felt almost angry with her, knowing that a turn of her finger would bring one of the best fellows in England to her feet. We met old John once or twice as we were walking together. Fleurette cast down her long lashes and simply bowed. "Of course you know my brother well?" I said. "I have often met him," answered Fleurette calmly. "And you like him, I hope? "I like Dr. Penn very much," she replied simply. "He is the best fellow and the best brother in the world,” I said; and then I told Fleurette what we had been to each other as boys: how John had been as careful of me as the mother who was dead might have been how we loved each other now; and as I spoke, I saw a blush on her clear brown cheek, and although she said nothing, her eyes when they next met mine were wistful and kind. I shall soon make it all right, I thought, as I noted her look, and resolved to argue the matter on the first fitting occasion. There is a little river a tributary to a large one-running through Dalebury. Being too shallow for navigation, it is not of much use except as a water supply, and for angling. Still, one who knows it can get a boat with a light draught a long way up. One afternoon, thinking a little exercise would do me good, I procured such a boat, and started to row up as far as I could, and drift leisurely back with the current. For some distance on one side of the stream are rich, fertile meadows; and the path along the bank, through these meadows, is a favorite walk with the Dalebury folk. As I paddled my boat up the stream, guiding its course by the old landmarks, which came fresh to my memory as though I were a boy yet, and startling the water-rats, descendants of those amongst whom John and I made such havoc years ago, I saw in front of me on the river-bank the dainty little fig. ure of Fleurette. As I looked at her over my shoulder, I could see she was walking slowly, with her head bent down, as one in thought. Thinking of John and her own folly, perhaps, I said. So preoccu• pied was she, that the sound of my oars did not attract her attention until I was close to her. Then, seeing who it was, she waited whilst I rowed to the bank on which she stood. "Good-afternoon, Miss Dorvaux," I said; "if you will step into my boat, I will row you as far as the shallows will let me, and then back home." Fleurette hesitated. "Thank you, Mr. Penn; I think I prefer strolling along the river-bank." "In that case I shall tie my boat to this willow-stump, and, with your permission, walk with you. But you had far better come with me: the boat is quite safe, and I have not forgotten my cunning." "I am not afraid of that," said the girl, stepping lightly into the stern of the boat; whilst I thought, here is the chance to reason and expostulate, and doubted little that my arguments would let me bring Fleurette back ready to accept her fate. Well, pride goeth before a fall! Yet for a while I said nothing to my companion. I did not even look at her. Poor little Fleurette! I saw, as soon as we met, that tears were on those dark lashes. The smile on her lip belied them, but the tears were there, nevertheless. So I waited for them to disappear before I talked to her, although I half suspected | brave brown eyes shining through her my words might bring others to replace tears. the vanishing drops. Presently Fleurette cried, in a voice of pleasure, "There are some water-lilies! Can we get them?" With some trouble I got the boat near them, and Fleurette gathered three or four. As she sat opening the white cups and spreading out the starry blooms, I said, "Why are you always so sad, Miss Dorvaux?" "Am I sad? Very few people in Dalebury give me credit for that, I fancy." My eyes look deeper down than the Dalebury eyes. To me you are always sad. Why is it? You have youth, beauty, and, if you wished it, love. Why is it?" Fleurette turned her eyes to mine. "Do you think these pale lilies have any hid den troubles, Mr. Penn?” "None, I should say. They toil not, neither do they spin, you know.” "The people who toil and spin are not the only people who are unhappy in the world," said Fleurette softly. "Nor are the water-lilies the only flowers who shut up their hearts, and only open them after great persuasion." She placed one of the white stars in her dark hair, and said, "We are getting quite poetical this afternoon. Was that a kingfisher flew by?" Of course it was no more a kingfisher than it was an ostrich; and as Fleurette was now my prisoner in mid-stream, I was not going to let her escape or evade my questions for any bird that flew. I steadied the boat with an occasional dip of the oars, and looking her full in the face, asked, "Fleurette, why do you treat John so strangely? Her eyes dropped. "I scarcely understand you," she said. "You understand fully. Why did you refuse to marry him?" "I might plead a woman's privilege. If we cannot choose, we can at least decline to be the choice of any particular man." "You might plead it if you did not love him; but you will not plead it, Fleurette. It is because I know you love him I ask you for an answer to my question." Her fingers toyed nervously with her lilies, but she said nothing. "If I thought you did not care for him if you can tell me so- my question is answered, and I am satisfied. Answer me, Fleurette." She raised her head, and I saw her "The proudest day in my life was when John Penn asked me to be his wife - the happiest day would be the day I married him, and that will be never." Never, Fleurette? " "Never never never. Unless " here the girl gave a sort of shudder, and covered her eyes with her hands. "Tell me what obstacle there can be," I said gently, "I cannot. I will not. If I could not tell John, why should I tell you?" "Your mother is a great invalid, is she not?" I asked, after a pause. "Yes," replied Fleurette. "Is it possible you fear John would wish you to leave her? Is that the reason, Fleurette?" "I will tell you nothing," she said firmly. "Put me ashore, please." "Very well, Miss Fleurette,” I said, resting on my oars. "Then I give you fair warning, I shall never cease until I find out everything." to The girl's face flushed with anger. "What right have you," she cried, attempt to pry into my private life? I hate you! Put me ashore at once." Fleurette not only had a will but a tem per of her own. "I will not," I said, "until you give me some message I can take to John, some word that will let him live on hope, at least." "Will you put me ashore?" said Fleurette, stamping her foot. My only answer was a stroke of the oars which sent the boat some yards further up the stream. "Then I shall go myself," said Fleu rette; and before I could comprehend her meaning, she simply slipped overboard, and in a couple of seconds was standing on the river bank, with the water dripping from her petticoats. She darted across the meadow without even looking back, and left me feeling supremely ridiculous. The river was scarcely knee-deep at this point, so she ran no risk of drowning, and only suffered the inconvenience of wet shoes and skirts; but I could not divest myself of the idea that had there been six feet of water there, the beautiful little vixen would have gone overboard just the same. I had been completely outwitted by a girl of twenty; but then no one could imagine that a young lady of the present day, attired in an elegant walking-dress, would jump out of a boat to avoid his society, however angry she might be. Yet I felt very foolish as I drifted back to Dalebury, |