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 *liiipff^pi COUSIN^JOHN. THE STOEY OF A CHRISTMAS DAY. •• Are we reir iiacbU n Station no^ " I aakcd timid :y of my opposite companion, â- with vhoni a few ^ivilr.ies had been ex- changed during a scme^'^hat long railway jj-irnry {.erfoiiiie iu a second clas-s carriage. '• WehhuH hr Juf; aim'..s!; cire-jtl. "^fche rin^K-ered L-iskiy. '-You are glad, I dare bar '.t it ha-, been a tiring day fcr you." •' •â-  -3." I re;^lie ' doubttully, fueling in- â- war 'ly a Fersat'ii.H little akin to gladness; :or. though 1 w s ef^int; home in one sense of t::e M ord, having no ctber place to call by that E'.me, I had never bten to Maraton I e- lort. i was g' log fs a stranger t' accept a jhcltor from rila i\' « I i;ad never seenâ€" going wiih diea.l ;. â-  d uhcertamty too toe though my ;ii;ut Verekcr's letter had con- taicd the j-.u...i.-e oi a welcome, how could I be Fure she really meant it Hjw could I diviae wtether i^y cousins would/not re- gard me in the ii^ht of an intruder and m- tei-loper as well Bat 1 had had no choice m the matter. All had been hurriedly settled and arranged, almost^ "before I had realised that I was to leavac' my old home and go out amunu'.t new iiien'Js an I strange laces. I knew that the Verekers were rich â€" at lea-'.t, lich in tg/TjJariscu with what we 'had ever been aco" us my means were in fcturc to be of the most moJtat description, i had travtl ed in a N^ay would probably shock thtm if they cha'-i^d to see nie alight. But that could not l;e helped. i knew I waa right. Very likely none of thtm would b3 at thebtatio.n; at .dl events, there was not much, time for d'-dberatiou even then the rrain Was tUckenmg its speed. I was gat.iericg up my few belongings andprepar- paring very tre.ii!l ngly for the ordeal. I h-id ju-Dped out very quickly, not paus- iag to t;,l-i.C'j eii.er to the right or to the !jtt, wii.-i: .-udd;:.!y r. voi.e beliind me said L-!0metliing wl.icji iu my ucrvousutsj I could not quite C;tcir: Ijut, lucking up, 1 found mybeif facing a L-eatlcmeii who, ccnoludiug who I was, in:ro'iuctd himself as my cousin John Vereker. il..- was drcised in a rough gray r,hool;ug-r-ri:-, with a wi^'.e-awake hat, whK-h he rai^e.l iiu'htly wnnu he tirst ad- dressed mo, '• L\na is here too," he ;aid. " We drove over together and the cart has been sent for your hoxis." â- 'TriaLk you," I riuiwercd " bat I have only cue simuU 'oox aud what you see." ••Ail right," saivl my cousin Johu, though how lie Call 'â-  'n be my cousin was a mystery whic!' was 1 ' to he tx plained for I had never iitard vi.at aunt Vereker hail a son. I had always unagined that her family cou- sistf d of daughteis only. He pcsaesiud hiiM^deit (|u;st'y of my small property, and. leading lao way, conducted me thu'iigli ths linJe gateway to the-poay- -â- arriage wh'-re'U Lina sat gazing tow rds us with f'vijent curnf.ity as ue approaclied ^he w elcduie'i me k:Md!y. and then proceed- ed to a~li :• 1 \v(.u il iiiiiiii sittng benini in the Ri it â- ^i-ui.-iy I'Ccuj'iij i ly t.ic g'.oom, as she wisHfd t iirivo Ui.iiho. •â- Aad â- ! 'in wo ' l-t m •," iieiiid, wi'ha pretry jt;,iia;;i-'ti geitur.-, '• unless he sits ocsido i:u-. 1 1-' IS .sujh a inesoiiie old nla.,iie a eii't y. u, -i ru'" '•NLustnb!' Lii a ' leplid .John. "I moan to ut i.t-rB ' â€" ^â- â- iiicmL; t" the back .:,c-at â€" "I call guide trie nins jusc as well if yju get fr ghttned." I got m obedien'Jy and stated myself i;V L ua's ;-iile. She kept up a running tire •"f siiia'i-talk all the way home, varied only by one or two iisrvous exclamations when the ponies se' nitd disposed to getheycnl :ier coatro' Wnen had I started Was I very tired? D.dn't I think the heat ter- r.de A id wasn't I afraid to take iuch a Ion,' journey alone? •'0.1, John" â€" iudilenly stoppina'her conver- sation with me, during whicfi my replies had been of the least c ntqiuiue t) her â€" "here s Mr. iiaughtou C(;iiiing Hadn't we better 3. elk to him? He is sure to have mauo a call on us, and he will have b^en so dr;-ad ul y ch^appoiuteJ. Do stop, Jjim " W al.HU'g \efy leisurelj- up the road, ac- joaipiiiiea by Sovcial dcg^, was a gentleman who i of c.urte oo:;cludca was Mr. Haugh- ton he was till and very fair, with an al- most inous'aihe and extremely haad'^ome sunb'.unt face. The features wtie faultless, t xceptiug ')a y tl;fc chin, whi(rr, sloping iu- warilo. Lave ,j hn.k of .nltcisiou and weak- acs, \iluch i.M my opinion detracted not a little noni ;.!;â-  gjod lovks. Hjwever, he was very geni i, man li'-e, and greeted Lina in'-:it i'ordially, as weil as my cousin .Jjhn. " -iL.er ot them thought of introducing ir- -â-  i s-.t ijiiietiy by, half amused, half ai: 1 at Liua's ii.c^ssaut ciiattpring, and In r v-.ili'ut 'il sire to impress Mr. Haughton liv 'â-  I !y. l' b".ra';i: n:e however that the i^-f'^r â- .jjj)ea:-:ii harc'ly grateful enough to hjr. ilio maiji.er was a mixture of indift'.r- cIj.x li pi-l.tenes.^ and, after the first few jeu'i'^^cf- I. ad bi en jpikfu, he made a de- lM:i! iilv-111 n: tj depa't, which L iii ap- pa'.i. :y i id ;)0t notice. S'.ie rattled on .. i.5t goroi^s'y, uuiil reminded by her Ir. i.ir i!..i: •â- . e naght to hasteu homewards jii I'lV iiecvyuiit s; with a few last words, wl :ti Were ra'her lengthy- ones, we started I ri' n-e more on through a most picturesque lut c iilage, then down a broad road bor- dcied on either side by m.gnificent elm- tr^es, until we came to an iron gateway with a cosy lodge one mass of blooming jes- samine, rcses, and houeybuckle, with bright latticc-paned windows and brilliant flower- btds facing them. '•How pretty 1" burst from my lips. " How lovely Oh, it is like a picture " I exclaimed involuntarily as we drove up the short approach and came within view of the house. In another few seconds we drew up be- fore the doorway. The reiaa were thrown by Lina to a a grocm, who promptly appear- ed Cousin John helped ine to get out and, under his escort, 1 was presently ushered into aunt Vereker'e piesence. I hod expected to see some one very cold and formal â€" I had fancied she was so from her letters â€" bat, instead, I fonnd a youth- ful-looking person, dressed in most elabor- ate black â€" it could scarcely be called mooru- ing â€" with a tiny little tulle trifle perched most coquettishly on the side of her head, which thick plaits of chestnut hair also adorned. Far from being cold and formal; she was cordia! and kindly to a decree she repeated all Liua's enquiries, and was equally accommodating to my answers. But, although outwardly there was nothing left for me to desire, so far as words went, somethingâ€" I could not^ explain whatâ€" chilled me towards aunt Vereker. Aunt Vereker had bean a widow for about five year and since then had lived at the Grange, which belonged to Mr. John Vere- ker, who was only her step-son, having been a well-grown boy of fifteen when his father fell in fove with and married her. Perhaps ii- was out of love for her, perhaps it was f;-oi»somj ii.nite conviction of her incapa- bility and shallov.-nesa, perhaps from his en- tire confidence in his â€" co one knowâ€" but the late Mr. Vereker had left his widow to the care of his son, and trusted to him to supplement, as far as ho considered needful, a very- mederate settlement, which was all he had made upon his wi:e. tlohn Vereker was a rich, m n, an 1, v. a.*L was still more to the point i^ my aunt's opiuion, a very generous one. Shs con- sidered she had been very badly treated by her husband, and there were times when she rather murmured because her step sen did not secure to her the allowance he gave. However, those sentiments, were never uttered in his presence it was only behind his back that John Vereker was at times ac- oused of leing "mean," "stingy," ai.d '•miserly." The girls were each to have three thousand pounds â€" "a beggarly pit- tance," aunt Vereker said but. if Jjhn did his duty, they would have a great deal more. L'na was her favorite an J Lina's pros- pects of a matrimonial settlement were jast then beginning to occupy her mind. Mr. Hiuguton v.as the individual upon whom their hopes were resting and, as 1 cam.e to know my aunt better, I trusted most sin- corelj-, for the sake of general peace, that he might not disappoint ihe.ai. Hi w;3 a frequent visitor at the Grange â€" ill fact, hardly a day pas-ed without our seeing Komething of him but, as his place was within ,iii easy distance, and he had ii'ithing at hone to enliven him, I some- times wondered whether it was for his own or Lina' sake ihat wo were so often favored with ilia company. I had been at the Grange a little over a month, and had be- came diy by day more convinced of one thing â€" namely, that neither aunt Vereker nor L'na legarded me with friendly eyes. Perhaps I was toD near Liua's own age â€" I was nineteen perhaps they felt I was a re- straint and burden. I could not tell what it was. Of Mr. .lohn Vereker I saw very little and my three younger cousins, being still in the schoolroom, were seldom avail- able as companions so I found myself soli- dary in the midst of them all. an intruder and an interloper â€" just what I had feared when I was hurrying towards ^larston on the first day of my arrival. I had one pleasuie however which none of them grudged me, and of which I could avail myself as often as I desired. Soon after I came to Marstcn the organist of the village chapel was suddenly taken ill no one was able or willing to undertake the duties he could not for a time perform, and for the first Sunday the service was conduct- ed without music of any kind. "Aunt Vereker," I said that same even- ing, "do. you think Mr. Harleigh would let me play for him?" "You!" repeated aunt Vereker. "I'lay in church! Oh, no it would never do!" "I used to do so at home sometims," I answered, "when I didn't sing in the choir." "I dcn't like the idea of your performina; here in public," replied aunt Vereker severely. "I should never dream of al- lowing Lina to do such a thing." • ]5ut Lina couldn't," put in Baatrice, with naive sincerity, "Couldn't she?" laughed Lina. who at that moment appeared, with Mr. Haughton be- hind her. at the drawing-room window. "Pray what cm I not do?" "Play the organ in church. Blanche has bet=a asking mamma if she may." "Are vou musical, Miss Beresford?" ask- el Mr. Haughton, addressing me. "I am very fond of music, if that means being musica'" I answered, with a guilty c csoiousness that aunt Vereker was eyeing mo .=i-v(-rely. "Will you play something now?" con- tinued Mr. Haughton. "Do ask ycur cousin" â€" appealing to Lina, who seconded his reque^;t so w'armly that I was obliged to accede. Hardly had I played a few chords when aunt Vereker, interrupting me, begged that Wo would all recollect what day it was â€" Sunday â€" and, if I must play, she must beg me to play only chants. However, Lina and Mr. Haughton drew near the piano, at which I Seated myself and soon a chorus of voices â€" shrillest amongst them aunt Vereker's own â€" sounded through the pretty dining room. rat mu=ic at the Grange was not like the music 1 revelled in when, armed with aunt Vereker's rather unwillingly accorded con- sent, I undertook the organist's post and practice' for it in the long summer after- noons. It was a lovely little chapel, built partly by unc'e Vereker, and fully finished at ?.Ir. .lohn Vereker's expense. Many an hour I spent in it, many a sad thought and fancy I embodied in the grand tones which rolled forth under my fingers. When I was saddcot, whsn things felt strangest and most ne;olate, I used to take the key of the chapel, and, tying on my hat, run dowii the shrubbery walk, and, crossing the broad elm-bordered road, enter the still little edifice, and in the pleasures of harmony for- get as far as I could the realities of life. One rather drizzling day I had set forth to have some practice, and had just reached the gateway leading to the chapel, when I saw Mr. Haughton coming towards me. It was impossible to pretendthat I had not ob- served him I must make some civil re- mark so I waited quietly until he came up, fancying that he would go on to the Grange where I knew he was already expected. As yet he had not done his duty regarding Lina she was still hoping daily for a de- claration, the very tardiness of which might have sufficed to convince her that it would never come. I pitied Lfna from my heart. What could be more wearing or more de- grading than a perpetual effort to bring an unwilling suitor tc the point, or more dis- tracting than aunt Vereker's transparent little schemes to throw them together and to give him every possible facility for asking the question that was to make poor Lina happy.? •'Did he say oothine to-day, Lina," aunt Vereker would â€" "nothing tangible »" • 'Xo, nothing. What do you meaQ?" Lina \rould answer, angry, indignant, »nd dis- appointed. J Mr, Hanghton's sUenoe. though very ex asperatinp, did n^t suffice to '^VJ^l aunt's welcome to him. He was at Uberty to come to the Gramge at a" *\'?«'»' *°°; when there, was treated with all the honor due to a future most unexcehtionable son- m law. I haye described him as a hanl- some man. In features he certainly was, and his general appearancs was gentleman- liko but, when be stood side by side with my cDuain John Vereker, the contrast ba tweeu the two ought, I thought to have been suffiaiont to cure L'ca of her preter- ence. For there was nothing manly abou. Eustace Haughton, no intellect m the pate blue eyes, no strength in the narrow white hands, with their long nerveless-looking fingers whilst Mr. Vereker, with hi3 al- most plain facs, gray-streaked hair, ana shabby shooting-coat, hud an air of quiet decision, an indescribable so.-nething which at once pioelaimod him to be, what i telt from the first he was, a brave, booest, honorable English gentleman. I could have fancied it possible to face any great danger quietly with J jhn Vereker by my side. Before I had been long at the Grange, i. knew that I had seen the one person in the world with whom life for me would be al- most cloudless but what folly it was to think of such a thing How I tried to reason myself out of it one moment the next, how closely I clasped the sweet secret â€"the secret that would be buried with me For I loved John "v ereker- 1, Blanch Beres- ford, aged ninetpen, possessed of the magni- ficent fortune of about fifty pounds a year, with nothing to recommend me except per- haps my voice. Aad I could sing; even aunt 'erekGr taid one night that she could not listen quite unmoved when Blanche sang, for she had tears in her voice. 1 wondered what he thought. But he sddom spoke to me. Sjmetinies, when he seamed inclined to do so, 1 grew so nervous that .ny answers simply repelled him. I knew it, and writhed to think how utterly foolish and unnatural I must appear. I had the presumption to love him. Well, no one knew it, aud time might cure me perhaps. Besides, I should not long remain at the Grange aunt Vereker did not wish it. I could perceive that more from her manner than from anything she ever said instinc- tively I was, aware that the welcome of which I had been doubtful from the first had ceased to exist, and that toleration only was accorded to me by my cousins as well as herself. No suspicion of what had caused the growing coolness had ever flashed across me, never distantly did I dream of the pos- sibility of having interfered with Lina's prospects, until this drizzlin? afternoon, when, hurrying to the chapel, I chanced to encounter Mr. Haughton. ".Miss Beresford," he said, when the first greetings had been exchanged, "won't you give me a great pleasure? Won't you let me hear you sing something? I know that you are going to practice. Won't you let me listen " "If you like," I answered, without hesi- tation. "Old Tufton comes to blow the or- gan for me so I must go to his cottage first. "Couldn't I do instead?" asked Mr. Haaghton. "Suppose you engage me, and dismiss old Tufton " Tufton proved to be out so there was nothing for it but to agree to accept Mr. Haughton's gcod offices or to give up my practice. I hesitated for a few seccnds, and then resolved upon the latter course. "I sha'nt practice to-day," I said, as we retraced our steps towards the chapel. "Do," urged Mr. Haughton "do Miss Beresford. I should like to hear you play " "You hear mo every Sunday," I said smiling. "Y'^es, I know that but then you are playing for everybody's benefit. I should like you to play for mine only. Oh, Miss Beresford," he continued, with some ve- hemence, "if you only knew ' "I don't want to know," I interrupted desperately â€" "I don't want to know any- thing." Whatever he might have intended to say was checked, not so much by my entreaties a? by the sud'len and timely appearance of my cousins John Vereker and Lina, who just then turned down the pathway leading tow.ards where we wpr». Nice behaviour Nice conduct. Such a cunning piece of deception had never before come under her eyes but she knew me now â€" that was one comfort â€" knew me thorough- ly. So aunt Vereker in formed me, when, after a protracted interview with Lina, she came into my room to confront me with my crime. '"I don't know what you mean, aunt, ' I said. "1 really do not understand what I have done." " Done ' echoed aunt Vereker. " Done Why, your own conscience might tell you ' You have deprived poor Lina of all she cares for in the world you have lured E'jstacs Hiughtcn away from her, just when he was on the verge of a proposal, by your quiet sneaking ways." "Iâ€" luredâ€" Mr. Haughton! Oh, aunt how can you say such a thin? I met nim to-day by the purest accident." 'I am sure you did â€" an accident of daily occurrence," replied aunt Vereker. " Very accidental, no doubt I I suppose that is equally accidental " and she threw down a letter addressed to me in an unknown hand. "I should say that it was quite accidental; for I do not recognise the handwriting." "Little serpent 1" cried my aunt, as she turned to leave the room. "I wish you had never darkened my doors " How he must despise me if he thought I had laid myself out to entrap such a man as Mr. Haughtonâ€" I who had never given him a thought, far less dreamt of his preference Yet there was his letter â€" for sure enough it came from him â€" hurried, but earnest in its entreaties to me to accept what he now offeredâ€" himself. He feared he had offettd- ed me if he had, I must forgive him and if I could not give him my love all at once| he begged me not lightly to reject his, but give him the chance of winning mine. Never was a proposal so unwarranted, never had one been so unwelcome. I sat quiet and speechless after perusing it, until roused by hearing the dreasiag-bell ring, which warned me that in half an hour 1 must Jieet them all at dinner. Lina, tear-stained and indignant, was the first that graeted me bahiz^ her was my aunt, visjorously fannint; herself whilat my cousin John was apparently buried in the study of the Times. I approached them tremolooaly enough, and presently summed np conragetq address to Lina .rather unintelligible remark as U my having feared that I wa. late for dinner, mv watch being slow. "Oh Ton are in excellent timel" respond- ed my aunt, who took the remark as ad- dressed to herself. " We should have had to excuse you if you had been late. A slight sob from Lina and a rustle of the rimes, foUowed by the announcement of dinner, saved my having to reply. Bit what a dinner it was The only voice was my cousin John's, who strove, vainly enou; o.v^gh, to bring forward topics which might be generally and safely discussed. Oice or twice he addressed mo in a manner so pointedly that I could have brokei; down right there and then and sobbed my precious secret out at his feet, utterly re- gardless of aunt Vereker's or Liaas pres- ence, both of whom sat in silent wrath, glancing towards me with the mott unmis- table contempt and abhorrence. Well, it would soon be over; for 1 couli not stay long at the Grange. Very soon I should be gone but whither That was a question hard indeed to answerâ€" a problem beyond my solving. I was very young. 1 knew nothing of the ways of the world, i I had no idea how far my own small means wero cipible of maintaining me. I was not sufficiently accomplished to be a governess and, without having one shade of conceit about, me I knew I was too good-looking to pass through life in the obscurity which I began to desire for myself. The vista before me was cold and caul and hopeless. A few lines of refusal having been duly despatched to Mr. Haughton, 1 sat in my own room reflecting on my future. :Many were the projects I revolved ere i slept. These the morning sun dispelled, for they had not been of the wiciest. How- eve.-, with some trepidation 1 sought out aunt 'ereker, and told her, as simply as I could, how grieved and sorry I was, but how utterly unexpected Mr. Haughton's pro- p^al had been. 'Not unwelcome, if unexpected," re- sponded my aunt. "Bat I wish to tell you frankly that I think your behaviour has been simply abominable. Not that you probably will care for what I may say or think â€" as Mrs. Haughton, you will be in a position to do without my good opinion â€" but I wish to express it now to you, and to tell you at the- same time how bitterly I regret havin,' allowed you to come here at all." " That I can quite believe," I answered, with some bitterness. "But you are in error if you think I am likely to becoT.e Mrs. Haughton." My aunt laughed incredulously. "You are not going to further impose upon me, Blanche. Don't imafi;ine that I believe you intend to refuse such an offer. " "I have refused it," I replied laconically. "You have refused it!" exclaimed my aunt. "Well, you are the best judge of your own actions but may I ask, if it is true that you have refused Mr. Haughton, what was your object in detaching him from Lina?" "I never detached him," I answered in- dignantly 'I never dreamt of his daring to propose to me!" "Daring to propose Itjally, Blanche, I wonder it vou have any idea of your own position By birth you may be entitled to marry a gentleman but, considering your penniless " "I have fifty pounds a year, aunt," I said, "and I mean toliveuponthat. I am very sorry that I have so innocently distressed Lina but I shall go away today â€" to morrow â€" as soon as you like and Mr. Haughton will do me the justice to tell you tnat it was no fault of mine." "As if I would discuss it with him," uttered aunt Vereker;" -and as if I could, in decency, allow you to go away No, no ycu must remain where you are intil I can see you prop-crly bestowed elsewhere but, recollect, here you have brought nothing but unhappiness, and in this house your pres- ence can never be welcome. I am only giv- ing you an idea of what every one, from your cousin John downwards, thinks and feels in consequence of your conduct." Tais was the final blow for me. A wild sense of the injustice, the cruelty of it all surged through me. Involuntarily I started up, and then sat down, faint and trembling, speechless with impotent wrath, shame, and sorrow. "Please do not attempt any heroics. Blanche, I am not a person to be impressed by any exhibition of the kind " and' aunt Vereker got up, and. with a sneering glance towards me, left the room. Mr. Houghton came no more to see us, and mv cousin .lohn departed to spend, first, a couple of months at his shooting quarters in Scotland, and afterwards, I gathered from what I heard, he went about paying visits. At all events, the Grange was not to see him until Christmas. How I longed for Cnristmas to come, and how I listened for any chance scrap of information touching the movements of my absent cousin Oae very dnll, rainy morning in December there came a letter from him to aunt Vere- ker, headed from Grimsby Cistle, Lord Vaudeleur's place in Shropshire, saying that he was now really en route for home, but that Lord Vaandeleur had pressed him to remain for another week, so he would not appear at the Grange until the twenty- fourth- Cnristmas Eve. • 'There must be some special attraction at Grimbsby," suggested Lina. "Isn't Miss Vandeleur a great beauty?" "I believe she is," returned aunt Vereker; "but John isn't a marrying man, happily for us. He has often said he would never marry." "Thas's the very reason he will," replied Lina petulantly. "A nice thing for us to have to bundle out of this house and go off to some poky hole " "Don't distress yourself, Lina," said my aunt. ••John isn't attractive enough to please the Honorable Miss Vandeleur, She expects to marry nothing under a duke." "I hope .she won't be disappointed," sighed Lina "but I agree with you, mam- ma"â€" more brightly. "John isn't a beauty." It was late whes he arrived, looking browner and more stalwart than ever, and jast as quiet, grave, and nice as he hai been since I first saw him. I was very nervous when he advanced to shake hands with me. Perhaps my state of my mind ac- counted for the sudden pallor which must have overspread my face, for my cousin John said kindly â€" "Blanche is not well, sarsly T" "Oh yes, I amâ€" quite well " I aud qtaick- 'Whae u the matter?" asked aunt Vere- me last it ker sharply, turning towards time to sea a burning bluM, " say and then tiu, ][^ku hlT^"\^^^ strangely, and vague noises hfAv "' of many waters sounded in my ea„ T^" a wild stumble forwards and l^^e to reach a friendly chair was ' 'K' sinking downwards into darkae.^r'" T^' « sently revived to liQd that I !; °' P"' borne up-stairs in a pair of s' ^^ '"'"S and I recognizid, beud'n t ..riâ„¢" arms; OUK "1 1 pre. Was b-i strong laid me down, the facootmvco. ' V " "S^ie is better now," h^. said « f' ""• was a fainting fit. Is 'ppose. -ii,," "'â-  *- u hip •John pened before "Never," answered a v was aunt Verel--,r's aud thpi I^T â- " " wentq'iickly .m 't^.r^^ l^^}^; witha citter'ens; of humiliatio/an i °" to recover. ^^ ' ^^^^i What could thay a'.l tiiink of m." I „. â- , fancy aunt treker sittias trv iV ' to heroics and a deiire to imagine my cousin .1 ,ha hi more and for ever "disgusted ii'm.elf being on USted."An.i l: ,*â-  innumerable 6uppoBitions"a7to^Vr.al"?^" caused the seizure. I lay thereall the evt' ing alone. Oaly once B .atrios came up sec if I would have some tea as I ha.i J' dinner altogether. ^•"'^^^^mmi Xo, I would hav nothin-'â€" no'k^no all I wasglad to be a marty^, as soi^Vsor of self-punishmeLt for my w. akaess J had a dim hope my rt.fus.-d miaht be ma' known to cousin .1 jhn. ' I^ was a wretched fueling, I owe I shou'd really have enjoyed a cap of tea immenselv â€"still morj stioui 1 1 have likej t. na-,-. o en do'.vn-stairs, iusteal of speuii'i-j] inyCiri;* mas Eve in such a miserable las'non. '\- last k-nd nature'u s'.-v^-;t ro,to:a- Ll-.'t'iQn tired eye.lih a;l lj,'n-..sh-' my di^^-y thoaghus; and, wnen i ai.;...^ l'a;;^mi D ly ;:a'l fairly da-vvued. Sjci ahright 1 a-lIv d^yitwi;, {hcgr-.UEi. an I trees .c^v.iroi with -saow "^i.ijiej were hanging in crystal ghtt-.-ring lo-,^eli. ness, atid the gr^^at elm-tree br.iaoli-js we're bowed with drifts or half meltel snow which crumbled into po.vder wli.jn a bird lighted on a bough, or dropped ^t.; iu:^ily ja soft fragmtnts to the ground. Ail was still, while, and lovely wiun I lookeloatof ir.y bed-room wiadow, he up as tlie Imd- scape was by the reflection ir-Dm t:ieiaaon the otherwise colorlous scene. S.;rvice was to be at eleven o'clock sol hurried to the chapel to perform my duties there, not waiting to hear whether" the rest of the party meant to follow or not. A'tet the preliminary voluntary came that wo:- derousiy beautiful hymaâ€" "HarJc, the herald-anje'.-min'j Glory to the new-horn Kiiiq " Then, standing up, I saw in the G.-ange pew aunt Vereker, Lina, lieatrii-e and my cousin .John, whilst in the Brampton Tnorpt one I beheld Mr. Hanghton. The latter's unexpected visit annoyed me more than 1 can say. I feared he mi^hi wait for me, an i ctfend my aunt more tim ever by attempting to renew his request. Sj. when the service was over, 1 remainea quietly m the orgau-gailery until I thought every cue must have gone. At last 1 ven- tured out. How pale and silent everythinE was as I passed through tne little churcii- yard â€" passed with hurried footsteps, ren- dered noiseless by th3 iieavy siiDsrâ€" as noise- less as those which overtook ;ne. for 1 hearii' no sound until the voiceâ€" not of Mr. ILags- ton, butâ€" of my coasm -Johu sudienly ad- dressed inc. '•What were you doing, Blanche?" he asked, "1 thougnt you W3re uevdr oon; ing." ••I was arranging my things for the even- ing," I answered. •'I don't think you ought to p'ay to- night," he said very kindly. '•Why cot?" 1 a.ked, so brusquely tns: I was utterly disgusted with nivcelf. "You are not fit for it," said cousin -lobt^ "I did not know ycu had been ill wncn 1 was away." „ "I wasn't il. I never was better i" claimed: but my face must have contra- dicted my words, he looked so incredu- lously at me. r i n^ "You weren't happy, li'.anche. 1 know it and I have a mess-age for you whi:hmaT make vou happier. I have promised to ue- liver it to you, and tc-ask you^ to-^eig- it"â€" these la-^t word.s s.aid very sioffly- "Eustace lUuehton told me to te.l yo. that he has not accepted your answer aj final. He hoPes still and I have promise^^ to tell you so. It is my duty, .i.rii*i^ IS rich." 1 believe he is all that we co Ij. desire; and you must weigh mit.-.'rs There are advantages •" "There may be," I interrupte! advantages but 1 could not care not even if " ,i,isia' '•If what, Blanche '--M^ ^i} .J-i-' voice was straugely changed. -,; "If I had seen no one I carca tor i- _- answered, with a desper.ite heedlessi-ss consequences. .„ •'You love some one else then I answerea. "many for hiu:. "With my whole heart Aud the ful silenc aff- Aud then"'there came s Bileuoe.^^f.^y^jtj, during which I noticeu^-^, strange acueness the heiM'y- {t;:e covered palings and the bent bran.^ fir-trees in the shrabbery. ^,^ ^^^^^^_ jj he "Can vou name him you Bhiicbe: ,-have worthy Have compassion, Blau=- corapassion upon me ' depths o! "What words would convay ine ^^/jjtmas happiness sounded on that sQOW ^^ j„ morning What heart ^^^ 8° Jjopon me thankful as mine, when it dawne ^^r^ ^^^ from that cousin John had lo-^^!^^ "i^t the dis first But, from his imaginiDgJ" ^^^ j^^ parity in our ages was too] gre^ ^^^ed other groundless causes be nev that his preference c3uld be re ^^,,d^ Six weeks after that ^y„ jughton no^ and I am happy to s^Y 1^ J^^U " only got over his "^^PPXrveards b coriokd himself not ^^ S^^'^â- ^°°^f marrying, not Lina, but a ^f ^^^ ^„ndea- beauty who looks down wii" ^let. cession on Mr. and Mrs. Jobn ««^„ied .» S3 my eventful Chnst.^,D^.Ue^^^^ BY What being a merry one. "--., them a^ """ ter f!r my friends than wisMb^^ ^^^j^ a one, and as happy a -^^/j ngn ot them, as fell and have fallen to my share. arisen ' I'te A new religious sect h^ g land which worships ^otj^ ed "f daughters of Eve are worsni'f on ei The |}inni8'8 house, ge was a bi^ ^„.inofTom' fellow Ml Itfce ffW ash a Tied once that he hatchet. Ifow that bi yon't mention (:j,e wickedness j^ays to be t than anybody i jike the Pharis jmew for certai Ginuis's cousin more I thought ried. If there is a there isâ€" how c hoase. so he coi anlefs he carri* and if he did th ents enough to ^iVnd then how thirgs all over i low does he ms all full of Emok Christmas? Bu he may be supei word up in the The story Te kept on worryin think how perfe there was any ti dren would feel end of children i and Aunt Eiiza here already. Eiiza talking ab and they agreed sleep on cot bed 80 tfiat they cou f ether, and mot there's a big fire children can hai chimney." Now I know I because I did n disappointed, others and so on been grateful if Santa Claus fo being out of re mother, though the fire-place in never have hapf ought to have me, since I was i Chaibtmas busini It all happt.! Ginnis had conie iiad gone out to tl-3 boy Harry. Christinas, ai-.d the children wer icr, and how the was just the thi ffent and looked said to Tom who up and ooin« do tend to be Smta iir;Ui:e the chile grown-up foiks ffays wanting us Tern agreed w: pkndid tun, am coming down th' no it easily on C thought I ought liouse but I sai it would be meat 3rive him ot any j ioit. He said t "Tell, and that he MS with our chi: iraid that he wi It the chirr iiey. y End agreed 1 'ze, Cf course fe asked him, i iing, and is so p fithTomand me te asked him to Well, Harry ti nd we all went nd I boosted Ha 'the chimney ai lid down. He y e didn't know e 'ay the chimney "tried dr.wn to "n but he had "^fire-place was "'e supposed h 'rest; but after ard a noise. Hi ' a great way of. thinking f^ up the chim: 'tien we got ci Jold hear him pi; [g and yelling f wut half-way uldn't get eitl-e: vVe talked it o' ded that the bes 'P« and let it do\ 't- So I got *D, but Harry's his sides, so h "n said we ough *ch it ever Harr It that way, but ^strong, and I ' "ght come apa ihen I proposed 'leand push Hi "^ney, but aftc 'a We couldn't *e had to give ^l Harry was cr '*^d,^ay. althoi "'•i for him. T y*' They never always discont) 1^' We couldn't " Ifet's try to po ^.•â- y to be'patien "t down-stairs i Pcle we could ti *^ey. Bushel •â-  over every thin '^y With the pol JPtofeeldiscoura fot Harry, be oui^efore th( Lf Wonld be in « '«nl thought [•^nre the drei Tom thcnght .^•tsrtedafiie. sects. *;:.:.;