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.1 ..-I " 1 [j. -Tor kin turret the da? Tuat we wout out a-walkin . Autl but Ji'wu ou the river bunk, AII-I kni't i>u hourbtt-tttlkii!' ; Hi- twibio I u|' my niiron iiriuc Au 1 folded it toKeibor, Au ..aid Ui ihcm^ut tor liurvt-^t UW0 '1'wttb cur'us kiuil 0' weaihur. Tl>. niiu wt'M down an we ot tbere ii. -luh soeluud uueasy. Anl iiiutUr Bht \>w, lo call : "IjowiT/.y ' <> 1. Au 1 lliuu .loaiah 6|iuk- nuut up As 1 v.,>- jail ii startin', Au' uani, i.nwi'cz, wlmt's tbe Ufc Of Ub twu ever I'ttrliu' '' ' It km. I o' took me by imri>rinF, Au' yet I kuuw 'twas cuuiiu' ; I'll beard it all ttiu summer lnug lu every wild bee'- hiiiuuim'; lU btudicd nut the way I'd act. Hut. law [ ooaldBtaelt; I uiuaut to bide inv li've from him Hut beeiub us it be knew it ; In loukiux down into my ejee Ho must a-Btwu tbe fire : An' ever niuce that bour I've loud Au' worshipped toy Josiar. Eatunvillt tltaa AGOKDWSPRIUE CHAPTER I. Ethel Gordon sat in her own room alone, and no room ever gve a more correot idea an to ita owner's mind than did this. Tbe profusion ol floweri, all beautifully arranged, yielding sweet perfume, the oboioe books, pictures, copies of world- renowned works of art, and vases and orna- ments of rare design, were all indications of higheat rttiuement and cultivation. Elbel Oordon was not unworthy of her surrounding*. Bhe gave promise of a mag- nifijent womanhood; ber slender girlish ngure was admirably graceful, ber attitude perfection ; every unstudied pose waa statuesque. Her (ace waa beautiful with a bright beauty of its own ; riob brown hair fell on tbe graceful neck ; ber eye* were of tbe rare bne of a purple heart's ease, golden light shining in their liquid depths, a light that deepened with every phase of feeling, that Hashed with scorn, or gleamed with tenderness or shone with pride. Beau- tifnl eyes they were, for one glance ot which men would have fought in olden days and died ; the brows were straight, like those of a Grecian goddess brows of ideal loveliness. Tbe ancient Greeks gave snob a mouth at hers to Venus, for it was one of singular beauty, tbe upper lip being short, ttu lower one fall and curved, while tbe dimpled chin was faultless. There waa no tUw in her beauty from the crown of bar (air bead to ber tiny feet. Her small, white bands had a delicate rose tint ; her arm was round and perfect m contour. Yet she did not possess the cold, perfect, regular beauty of a woman without fault. There was pride and, perhaps, some little degree of temper in the bright eyei, lust as there was something of independ- ence and hauteur in tbe curved lips. The sunbeams were falling on her, and tbe tweet south wind, bearing the scent of hawthorn and lilac, was fanning ber brow ; but she was not looking well pleased. She was standing at an open window, watching tbe slanting sunbeams, her little white lingers tapping impatiently on tbe window frame. " I am a Gordon," she said to beraelf. " I like my own way, and I will not submit o it" At that moment a footman oame to say that Sir Leonard Gordon awaited his daughter in tbe library. "I will be there directly," said Ethel, carelessly it was ene ot ber principles never to seem in haste. Bbe remained for a few minutes longer at the window just to gratify her spirit of independence, and then she walked slowly to the library, where Sir Leonard awaited ber. Sir Leonard Gordon resembled bis daugh- ter in several respects he bad the same clear-out, regular features, the same wav- ing riob brown hair ; but his face, hand- some though it was, bore the marks of deep care and thought, while the hair was streaked with gray. Ho was a tall, aristo- cratic-looking man, with an impressive air of dignity and command. " Come in Ethel," be said, in a deep, musical voice. " I want to speak to you very particularly." A musical voice and a winsome smile were the heirlooms of the Gordons. Their features might and did vary some were of the dark, proud Norman, others of the fair, calm Anglo-Bason type but sll alike had a voioe of softest music, and a smile that would have melted a heart of stone. There had been faithful Gordons, and false Gor- dons Gordons true as steel, and treacher- ous as tbe men who betrayed their young queen ; but every Gordon could be reoog nized by these two gifts. 11 Sit down, Ethel," said Sir Leonard. " I have much to say, and you will be tired." But the spirit of independence and con tradiotion seemed to be strong in bis beau tiful daughter this May morning. " I prefer to stand, papa," sue replied ; and UI'H) Gordon swept across tbe room, with a haughty bearing not lost upon Sir Leonard. He smiled to bimoelf, and it was just at well that Ethel did not see that smile. " I have sent for yon, Ethel," he said, " that we may come to some amioable arrangement of our difficulties. I hope you have come prepared to be just and reasonable. "If yon are determined to have your own way, papa, it is useless my arguing with you," returned Ethel, proudly. "I am afraid, my dear, that we Gordons are too fond of our own way ; but I think yon and I can arrange our difficulties with out coming into collision. It is useless to talk to a Gordon ot submission ; but, if I can convince your judgment, yon will obey me, I hope." " I am not very clever at obedience, I (ear," said Miss Gordon. " No, you have been spoiled, Ethel, ever Binoe yon were a child ; and now that you are seventeen it is difficult to contend against the effects of that Hpoiling. Bee, my dear," and Sir Leonard hold out in open letter to bis daughter ; " I received this by the morning's post from the Austrian Ambassador, and I must send in my reply to-right." She took the letter, read it carefully, and then laid it on the table. " It is complimentary," she said ; " ard he speaks of the position as a lucrative one." It is so now, Ethel. Yon are old enough to understand some of the cares that have turned my hair white, and have lined my fuoe with marks that nothing will efface." Her beautiful face softened for a few momenta, and tbe proud eyes grew dim with teara. " Although," be continued, " I am the representative of one of the oldest families , in England, owning Fouutayue Uall in England and Heatherbrae in Scotland, yet I am a poor man. I never know tbe luxury of having a sovereign to i-p *re. My father, who Bucouoded to a riob inheritance, spent all he ojuld. He gambled, pUyeJ, bet heavily, bought extravagantly he ruined himself, K'.uel, aud consequently ruined me. Wheu I succeeded to FounUyne, it waa one of tbe poorest estates in England. Your mother, Lady Angela, brought with her a good fortune, and that { helped me indeed, but for that I mu-.t ' have sold tbe Ilall. Your mother s fortune ' cleared oft the heavy mortgages; still it b*a been difficult to live. Now, this offer of tbe Austrian Ambassador oames in ibe very hour of need, 1 wanted a lew thou- sand pounds ; and, if I go, they will be mine." " It is an inducement, certainly," she said, gravely. " A very great inducement," be agreed. For the first time iu my life, I shall be quite at ease an to money matters Heaven grant you may never know what that implies, Ethel aud the advantages in other ways will be great." " Why not then decide at once upon accepting the offer, papa?" " Because tbe decision reata with yon. I cannot leave home for two years, and leave, you alone unprotected, unoared for it is out of tbe question." " Tbere never waa a Gordon yet incapa- ble of taking care of himself or herself," said tbe girl, proudly. Sir Leonard laughed and shook bis head. "Yon are only just seventeen, and that is no age (or ripe judgment. Yon are too young to be left in charge of a large house like Fountayne. You have not bad expe- rience enough." She went up to him and laid both hands on his shoulders, gazing straight into his faoe. 11 Now, papa, look at me ; tell me tbe truth. Who really governs the house now ?" Kir Leonard's faoe flashed ; ha laughed uneasily. " If you insist upon the truth, there oaa be no doubt, Ethel, that yon rule the bouse and every one in it , but you must remem- ber that I am bare to take all the responsi- bility from yon," " That which I am old enough to do in your presence I can surely do in your absence," she ssid, proudly. " That is the very point on which we disagree," returned Hir Leonard ; " and on that point my decision rests. We will argue tbe matter fairly, Ethel, and you will see that I am right. In tbe eyes of tbe world," continued Sir Leonard, " I should be greatly lo blame if I went away leaving a girl so young as yon, Ethel, to manage a large house above all, if I left you without a chaperon of any kind." "A chaperon !" repeated his daughter, contemptuously. " Of what possible use would a ob*i>3ron be to me ?" " Bbe would keep yon out of all danger ; young girls are easily imposed upon. Bbe would teaob yon to fulfil tbe duties of your station in a proper manner. In fact, Ethel, i u uMleu to argue tbe question ; you can- not possibly do without one. You would lose caste in the eyas of the world, and would be oertain to get into mischief." " It I ever forget myself so far as to feel any inclination for miitabief, no amount of obaperonage would keep me from it," said Miss Gordon, proudly. " I am too old to be taught to obey a stranger." " My dearest Ethel, how proud you are ! I (ear that some great sorrow some great and terrible pain will be your partion will be sent to break tbe pride, tbe unbend- ing spirit that nothing seems to move." " All tbe Gordons are proud, papa. Why blame me for having one of the character- istics of my race .'" " Bubmissiveness and gentleness, Ethel, form a woman's diadem." "A very poor one!" objected Ethel. " Now, papa, be reasonable. Give up this absurd notion of a chaperon ; go to Austria that is a magnificent offer one yon should not refuse. Leave ma here at Koun- tayne ; I shall have a staid old housekeeper and faithful servants ; what more can I need ?" " My dear Ethel, what would the world say if I left a girl of seventeen alone in that fashion ?'* " I do not care for tbe world," retorted the girl. " I care about pleasing myself." " You oannot run counter to the opinion of the world, Ethel ; at your age the idea is absurd. You must submit to tbe inexor- able laws of ouHtom and etiquette." Sir Leonard spoke angrily, with Hushed faoe and darkening eyes. Both father and daughter were growing terribly earnest. " What if I refuse to have anything to do with a chaperon ? Papa, if I refuse to obey one, what then ?" asked Kthel. " In that case I should certainly refuse the offer," said Sir Leonard. " I should write to the ambassador and decline. But, Ethel, you will surely take my disap- pointed, blighted life into consideration before you do that?" The girl was silent for some minutes ; then, turning to him her beautiful faoe all flushed and eager, she said persuasively : " Let me make one more appeal to you, papa. Go to Austria, and leave me here. I will be prudence itself ; I will surpass discretion in all I do or say ; I will promise you that no stranger shall ever cross the threshold ; I will obey every law you may lay down for me, if you will consent to leave me (ree and unfettered." " My dear Ethel, I cannot do it. Yon do t ot know what yon ask. A tftl of seven- ,001), left in Bach a position, would quite ose caste. It yon were twenty, or even thirty, I would not do it." " You refuse, then?" she said quietly. Sir Leonard moved uneasily in hisobsir ; he did not like, when looking on that beau titul faoe, to refuse a prayer. " I must do no for your own sake as well as mine. I oannot leave yon alone, Ethel, and I will not." She was silent (or some minutes, the flush dying (rom her (ace, and the light deepening in ber eyes. A struggle was going on between her pride and her love for Sir Leonard ; then she turned to him quite calmly. " Will yon tell me, then, what you pur- pose doing, papa ?" Sir Leonard looked slightly confused Something in tbe be*u. 'ul faoe and proud eyes seemed to agitate biui. " I may as well uay, I had better speak plainly to you, K'bul. The truth is that the sooner that you aoouxtom yourself to a chaperon the better it will be for you ; for I am tired of a single life, and I think of marrying again " Tbe slender figure was drawn to ita full height, tnu beautiful faoe was flushed with tbe deepest crimson, tbe proud lips wore their moit ttooruful curve. " You think of marrjmg again, papal Fray may I aek why?" " That is hardly a renpeotiu i question, Ethel. I have told ton my reason. I am tired of a single life, aud I have met with a Udy who would make me, I am BUI e, a inont excellent wife." Am I permitted to ask who the lady is ?" aeked Mian Gorton. Certainly, my dear. I mot Miss Digby last year at the Trexhams' I met her again at the Divenoourts' ; and if I must speak plainly, I fell in love with bar." Tbe scorn on tbe lovely (ace deepened. " Miss Digby baa money, I believe ?" she interrogated. " Yes," replied Sir Lsonard, " she has money money made by her father in trade. She lays no claim to high birth or great connections, but, for all that, she is a lady of great accomplishments aud refine- ment." You would choosa a tradesman's daugh- ter to take my mother's plaoe ?" aeked Ethel, with quivering lips. " You must speak respectfully of the lady I hope to make my wife, ' returned Sir Leonard, sternly. Do you expect me, Lady Angela's daughter, one of the Gordons of FOUL tayne, to obey such a person ?" inquired Ethel, proudly. " I expect you to obey me. I also am a Gordon of Fountayne, and my will is stronger than yours. I have asked Miss Digby to be my wife, and she baa con- sented." A lo v cry escaped I '. thel's lip, bnt she made no Dominant. Sir Leonard con- tinued The same obstacle that prevented my taking yon to Austria forbid me to take a wife there ; therefore, I have arranged with Miss Digby to postpone our marriage until my return. You understand that, Ethel?" " Yes, I understand perfectly," was the quiet reply. Sir Leonard looked relieved. He (elt that tbe worst part of tbe revelation was over. " Miss Digby, to oblige me, has consented to another arrangement," Sir Leonard resumed. "Perhaps that will not please you. She is going to spend a few weeks, perhaps months, at St. Ina's Bay. She has invited yon to go with her, and I should like it to be so. Then she has promised to remain with you at Fountayne until I return." Ibe girl's faoe grew white with anger, her eyes seemed to flash fire. " I will not submit to snob an arrange- ment," she said, haughtily. " Yon are treating me as a child. Papa, you (orgel that 1 am a woman." Sir Leonard laughed. " Not quite, Ethel. You are seventeen, and I admit that you are tall (or your age but girls of seventeen are not women." "After being mistress of Fonntay tie so long, do you think, papa, I can submit to tbe rule ol a stranger?" " I think you have sense enough to see that you can only submit," said Sir Leonard. " I love Miss Digby ; but it ii quite as much for your sake as for my own mat I wish to marry." "Why (or my sake?" asked Ethel, briefly. " My dear child, yon will ask questions tbe answers to which simply displease yon. Because you have grave faults, and require tbe gentle training and the wise guidance of a good woman." "What are -ny faults, papa? Yon seem to have found them out all at once," " You are proud, Ethel proud, unbend- ing, independent. Yon have no self-dis- cipline, no self-control." " Those are all Gordon character i sties," she objected" not faults." " They are both," returned Sir Leonard. " Yon must do battle with them and over- come them, or yon will never be an amiable woman, Ethel." " I am not quite sura that I wish to be one, papa. Amiable people, ai a rale, are weak. I dislike weakness. I may be proud, as you lay ; but I never said a false word nor did a mean action." " That I am sure of ; bat, Ethel, I have spoiled you. You have grown up yonr own way entirely ; you have no idea of submis- sion. I have been thinking very much of it lately. I have read tbe words of some wise man that great pride can only be sub- dued by great trouble, and I oannot bear to think of my Ethel's bright faoe shadowed with care. I want yon to correct this pride yourself: to lesrn submission to wise and gentle guidance, so tbat a woman's greatest ornament, a meek and gentle spirit, may be yours." Ethel laughed. " You make me think myself very wicked, papa. When you change the colors of a il jwer, turn night into day, make thistles grow on rose-trees, then yon may hope to change a proud, wilful girl into a meek, submissive woman ; bnt not till then." " Take care, Ethel. What I cannot do a mightier Hand may effect. This is the crisis of your life. Think wall before you decide tbat your disposition is immutable." If either father or daughter could have seen to what this wat to lead they would have prayed tbat the May sunbeams might fall on her dead face, rather than that she should suffer what was in store for her. Ethel made no reply, and Sir Leonard, whose relief at having unburdened himself of his communication was great, rose from his chair. " I shall drive over to see Lady Daven- court this afternoon. You had better go with me, Ethel . Miss Digby U staying tbere, and I should like to introduce you to her. I shall be ready at two." And then Si: Leonard quitted the library, and his daughter passed through tbe open glass-door into the garden. OHAPTBR II. Out from the darkened room where she had suffered the keenest torture of her life, out in tbe beautiful sonahine, to the fair smiling flowers, to the sweet singing birds, went Ethel Gordon. It was like a change (rom some dark region to Paradise. She paused and drew a breath of deep satisfac- tion at finding herself alone in the sweet, warm sunshine. There waa a gleam of pur- nle (rom the lilao trees, a aheeu ot gold from the drooping laburuam, a glitter of white from the fair aoaoia blouomn, the roses were budding, large bashes of south- eru-wood tilled the sweet, warm air with fragrance, the white daphnen, purple b y-k- oiuths, and mignonettex were ail iu flower, Bwett lilies of tbe valley nestled among their greeti leavoa. Fountains rippled among the Ujwern, bright-winged birds flaw from tree to tree, all nature amiled ; aud Ethel, who bad u poet's soul, and a keen, p*saionate love (or all that was beau- tiful, gave u deep sigh of unutterable con- tent that the world waa BO fair. " I love the lilies beet," ane thought, as she picked a few eprays, and then the memory o( all she tiad just heard oame over ber, and a low, passionate cry escaped her lips. " I nhall bate ber," one thought, " aud the Gordons, who know so well how to love, know how to bate." It seemed cruelly hard to her. Sir Leonard had been content with her love aud her sway for ao many years; now a stranger muit come and take both from her. She bad been proud of her rule ; s>he waa so frank, so true, although imperious, so generous, so noble iu every word and deed, ttitt tbe servants of the household, the tenants, tbe dependents all worshipped her. Miss Gordon oould do no wrong- she dispensed rewards and punishments with a royal hand ; no one had iver dis- puted her Will or disobeyed her commands. She had reigned absolutely aa u. queen, and. girl thongb tba was, the sense of power had been sweet to ber. Bhe bad enjoyed tbe exercise of it. If any one wanted a favor from Sir Leonard, it was through Ethel they asked it, and he was never known to refuse. So she bad grown up gracious and beloved. " Miss Gordon ia proud," people said, " bnt the bas a heart of gold ," and now tbia pleasant rule, this absolute sovereignty, this influence and power, were to be taken from her, and pUcsd iu tbe bands of a stranger. How waa she to bear il ? Tears dimmed the bright eyes. Bhe stretched out ber hands aa though ahe wonld fain embrace the grand old hall aud tbe picture* qua ground*. " How shall I bear to see s stranger here '.'" she murmured ; and on that bright May morning no warning oame to her tbat she would have far greater troubles to bear. The Gordons of Fountayne were, as Sir Leonard said, one of tbe oldest families of England. They were a handsome race, (air of presence, winning iu upeeon, noble in mind, and chivalrous in manner ; they had been celebrated both in song and in story. Legends and atones without num- ber ware told of their (air women and daunt- less men, bnt they bad never been famed (or wealth. Geld h%d niver lasted long in t IB hands of a Gordon ; still they ntver had >een poor until Sir Alexander Gordon, tbe ( '.her of Sir Leonard, took to gambling. He impoverished his eatatc, himself, and his only son to such an extent that it waa doubtful whether Sir Leonard would be able to keep up tbe position of the (amily or not. He, however, married ao beireas, tbe Lady Angela Lyls. Ber fortune, large aa it was, auflioed to pay off tbe heavy mortgages only, nothing being left for tbe improvement of the impoverished estate, so that Bir Leonard waa, despite bis marriage, always a poor man. He waa obliged to scheme and contrive, for Lady Angela required her house in town, her entertain- ments, her dinners, balls, jewels, carriages and dress like other ladies in her position, and Sir Leonard oould nut refuse bar. " She brought plenty of money to Fonn- tayne, and aba moat have all so* wants. ' he was in tbe habit of laying to himself ; so that, during ber lifetime even, his hair grew grey, and deep lines oame upon bis faoe, all caused by money oarea. Then Lady Angela died, leaving one daughtsr, Kthel ; and tbii daughter became tbe pride, tbe pet, tbe plaything, and the torment of ber father's Ufa. Hhe waa always beautiful. Bbe had the Gordon faoe, the bright, winning faoe that belonged to the debonnair race. Bbe bad the qaiok impetuous Gordon temper, the Gordon pride. She had all the virtues and many of tbe failings tbat characterized ber raoe. Ethel Gordon bad the faults tbat gener- ally characterize a warm, impetuous, lov- ing, proud nature, aud those faults had been fostered in her (rom the bour in which ber baby rule bad begun at Foun tsyue. She was imperious, proud, with the qaiok tem- per that belonged to the Gordons. Her faoe would flush, her eyes flash fire ; ahe wonld express scorn, contempt, and anger in a moment ; but ahe was quick to (orget ; she never thought twice of a wrong com- mitted, and those who bad borne tbe brunt of ber anger were tbe Ural to (eel tbe charm of her generous, kindly manner. She was quick to forgive ; if ahe hurt auy one's (eel- ings she wonld do al 1 in her power to atone (or it. It waa not wonderful that she was loved ; she was well worth loving. She was tbe very light of Bir Leonard's eyes, tbe joy of his heart, bia pride and his delight. He had thought at first of send- ing her to school, bnt she had resolutely refused to go. Her refuial was aooompa- nied by such endearing oai esses, such a charm of manner, anon loving words that Bir Lgonard could not be angry ; and (rom that moment her triumphant rule com- menced. A long-so tiering line of govern- esses had tried their best to educate her, but it bad been found a difficult, almost impossible task. Hue had caricatured them, mimicked them, oaresied them, defied them did everything, ia short bnt obe. them. One more ooursgeoua thnn tbe rest went to complain to Bir Leonard. " Miu Gordon will not obey," said the unfortunate lady. " What am I to do with her?" " Tbe Gordons are accustomed to com- mand, not to obey," said the obild. A wise (ather would have compelled obedience would have punished the mutin- ona speeah. But Sir Leonard was not wise, lie merely said, sadly : " People must learn to obey, Ethel, before they know how to command ; the greatest men have yielded the moit implicit obedience." " Bo would I to you, papa, bnt I oannot to tboee tiresome complaining women ; they always look ready to cry. I do not like governesses and shall be glad when I can do without them." The whole household was kept in snob a continual turmoil by the warfare between Miss Oordon and ber belpleaa iontruotors that it waa a real relief to Sir Leonard when tbe last of them went away, Ethel was sixteen then, and she gravely declared her education to be finished. " I know quite euough, papa," she said. " Besides, I can have masters if ueoeatiary, aud that will be so much better than a gov- erness iu the house." It was wonderful what an amount of knowledge nhe had obtained ; she had* read every bx>k tbat w*s witbin ber reach, she bad made herself familiar with all the poets, she had a mind stored with all kinds of information some of it quaint enough. Sue had taken to music naturally, as birds take to song. She played with tbe most exquaite tahtc ; it seemed an though tbe half -awakened soul found ita voice in ber glorious gift of soug. If she bad been the daughter of poorer people, ber destiny- must have been tbe stage, her voice waa of tbe rarest beauty a contralto (all of sweetness. Much as she dialiked all train- ing and discipline she bad submitted to anything with regard to her music long hours of practice, perseverance in exercises and the result was tbat she sang with a taste and skill rarely equalled. Sir Leonard was very proud of this gift ; there was no pleasure greater to him than tbat which be derived from his daughter's musical talent. From her earliest girlhood she bad been accustomed to have the full control of her father's bouse. Wnile barely old enough to know the name of tbe different dishes, she had been accustomed to give orders for dinner ; and tbe servants had been accus- tomed to look to ber for orders. Child though she was, she had taken tbe greatest interest in ber father's guests ; nothing was ever done without consulting her. Accustomed as she had been to the most complete away and control over everything and every one, it seemed to ber now very bard tbat this power must pass from her into a stranger's bands. For some time past it had been dawning upon Bir Leonard that with all bia daugh- ter's beauty and accomplishment*, she was in many respects untrained ; by this time be bad begun to see that in reality he had fostered aud encouraged her faults, not corrected them. Childish paaaion, when the lovely little face bad flushed crimson, and tbe tiny foot had been stamped upon the floor, was one thing , anger so frankly dis- played by a young girl waa different. Love of rule and [fide of power were amusing in a child , in a grown girl they were not pleasant. Than tbe world, in its interfering fashion, had begun to tell him how much better it would be if be bad some lady to chaperon his daughter bow much better it would be it ahe bad some lady companion. When tbe offer oame (rom the Austrian Ambas- sador, the matter seemed pressing upon him ; it waa impossible tbat be should take ber with him ; yet it seemed equally impossible that be should leave her at home. Tbere was nothing (or it bat find- ing a chaperon (or ber ; and who would be so unexceptionable in every way as the lady be waa hoping to marry ? He shrank at first (rom telling Ethel bis resolve, but tbere waa no escape ; and her reception of it was more favorable than he bad dared to hope. CHAPTER III. Through tbe green lanea, where tbe hedges were one mass of bloom, where tbe hawthorn gave out its fragrance, and tbe woodbines trailed their long apraya ; where starry primroses from their green leaves looked like great golden stare -. when tbe purple violets bid themselves between the fern leaves ; where tbe tall trees met over- head, and the sunshine, passing through tbe thick branches, fell in golden splendor- through tbe ancient woods, ringing with tbe musical soug of the birda, great sheets of wild hyacinth and bluebells, which stretched out like the waves of a blue sea, stirring faintly in tbe warm spring breeze rode Bir Leonard snd bis daughter. It was a very paradise of beauty, of music, and sweet perfume. But neither the smiles of tbe son, nor the song of the birds, nor tbe scent of tbe flowers brought any brightness to Ethel Gordoa. Mare than once during their ride Sir Leonard turned to her, and said : " I wish you would look more cheerful. Ethel . all tbat I am doing ia for yonr own good." I cannot wall see, papa, how you can think of marrying again for my special benefit, but I suppose yon know beat." It was a relief to Sir Leonard to reach Chantry court. " You will be sure to like Miaa Digby, Ethel," be said ; " you will not be able to help it she is so amiable, so kind of heart, ao gentle in manner." Miss Gordon made no reply. In her heart she rebelled with the fiercest rebellion againal her father's decree ; in ber heart she had resolved never to like, never to obey, never even to please tbe lady who was to take her dead mother's place. Lady Davenoonrt and Miss Digby were both at home. Sir Leonard and bia daugh- ter ware shown into tbe drawing-room, where the buonet tried to look quite at bia ease, and Ethel, without deigning to utter a word, sat in one of ber most queenly attitudes, beautiful, wilful, and denant. Sir Leonard turned angrily to her at last. " Yonr indulgence ot this angry temper, Ethel, provea to me tbat yon are indeed in great need of some one to correct, to guide, and advise you, I say nothing about the want of respect you show to me, bat 1 must impress upon yon that it is unlady- like." The proud lips were not opened in excuse, Ethel gathering the (olds of ber riding habit around her in a disdainful silence. Then the door opjned, and Laura Daven - court entered. She gave one rapid. glance from father to daughter. " There in aomething wrong here," she thought, as she baatened to greet them. " Lady Davenoourt ia with Miss Digby in tbe grounds," aaid L%ura. " Would yon like to join them there '.'" A few minutes later the whole party were seated on tbe lawn under tbe shade of a large beech-tree. Lady Davenoourt greeted her Visitors warmly, and then 3ir Leonard, taking his daughter's unwilling band, led her to Miss Digby. He introduced them in a few words, and Kthel, raising ber proud, frank eyes, looked upon the faoe of the woman who was to cross her life ao fatally. (To be continued.) U.S. Postmaster-General Vilaa proposes to institute a reform in tbe matter of post- office names. Tbat of Bu/xtrdB' Uooat, Ua., be has changed to Westlake.