son than a wo

o, because I

espe

otsteps on the stairs, and, coming out on the corridor, she saw strange men carrying the insensible figure of her father to his room. She uttered a shrill cry and sprung tow

passionately, heard from a sympathizing

city lanes. His horse had shied at some passing object and h

obstacle; but the other, a foolish young horse, reared, and in another moment would certainly have trodden out the brains of the insensible man, had not a youth-a mere boy-suddenly rushe

rearing, with the driver swearing at them, and the young man had sunk on a t

, impetuously, "what h

fortune, and she would go and thank him. But there was no time for this, for the same grave-looking doctor who had closed her father's door against her was now standing on the threshold; and Nea forgot everything in her gratitude and joy as he told her that, though severely injured, Mr. Huntingdon was in no danger, and with quiet and rest, and good nursing, he woul

and and kissed it; "I have had a narrow escape; another inst

and to her cheek, as she knelt beside him; and

of Gypsy at once. She has been a bad bargain to me,

med the girl, forgetting the doctor's injunctio

s trick on me. Let Stephenson see to it at once. I will not keep her. Tell him to let Uxbridge see her,

," replie

one told me just now about a youth who had done me a g

rd, one of the junior clerks, and he is down-stairs in th

to the heroic young stranger; but her father held up his han

y, "Never mind, Doctor Ainslie says I shall be all right soon-he is going to send me a nurse. Trafford, you say; that must be Maurice Trafford, a mere junior. Let me

lad; works well-he seems to have taken a fancy to him. He is an old fool, is Dobson, and full of vagaries, but a thoroughly good man of business. He said Trafford was a fellow to be trusted, and

her thoughts at that moment, could have known the oppression of gratitude in the heart of the agitated girl toward the stranger who had just saved her father from a horrible dea

ng draught Dr. Ainslie ordered. Go out for a drive and amuse yourself; and, wait a moment, Nea, perhaps you had better say a civil word or two to young Trafford, and see if Mrs. Thorpe has attended to him. He shal

t the pain of his injured arm, which was beginning

, the children were playing under the acacia trees, the

ezes and the distant hum of young voices; within

e one had gently called him by his name, and for a moment he thought it was still his dream, for standing at the foot of the

my father's life. I shall be

brimming over with tears, and the sunlight and the violets and the children's voices

d your own life to protect my father-that you stood between him and death while they dragged him out from

supplement the thirty pounds per annum, "officially delivered." Surely, as she looked at the young man in his shabb

hing; in after years she confessed that Maurice's

ed Lord Bertie among them-but never had she seen such

der the girl's enthusiastic prais

s danger, and not go to his help?" and then, as the intolerable pain in his arm brought back the faintness, he

or it. So Mrs. Thorpe was summoned with her remedies, and the carriage was ordered. When it came round Maurice looked up in his young hostess's face with his honest gr

*

with their baskets of roses and jonquils, when Mr. Huntingdon laid aside his invalid habits and took up his old life again, far too soon, as the doctors sa

, as move Mr. Huntingdon from his usual routine. He only smiled incredulously, said that he felt

ile Maurice, on his side, drudged patiently on, very happy and satisfied with his sudden rise, and dreaming foolish, youthful dreams

yellow fogs, its heavy, damp atmosphere, a ter

anager to dismiss him when the facts of his disappearance and the missing sum were brought to their ears. The deed was a cool one, and so cleverly executed that more than one believed that an older hand was concerned in it; but in the midst of the consternation an

om a chance word accidentally overheard, he thoug

after a searching glance at him, Mr. Huntingdon agreed to leave the matter in his hands,

anks to his sagacity and the unerring instinct of the officer, they were soon on the right track, and before night had v

detective, was making inquiries of the captain about the steerage passengers, Maurice's sharp eyes had caught sight of a young sailor with a patch

keep to the ropes or you are lost. Slip the pocket-book in my

d the lad, and his face turned a ghastly hue at

nd I will put him on the wrong scent. That's right," as the shaking hands pushed a heavy brown pock

Brown Bess,' and he sails in the 'Prairie Flower;'" and as he uttered the first lie that he had ever

dock-Maurice suddenly produced the pocket-book, and proposed that they should take the next train back for London. "For I am very tired,"

on, and he swore savagely. "You have che

e I was too sharp for you. Evil communications corrupt good manners, Staunton. I have taken a leaf out of your book-don't you think I should make a splendid detective?" continued Maurice, ratt

nton uttered

f penal servitude? Do you think I am flesh and blood and could do it? No! I have kept my promise, and

hen they told their story, and Mr. Huntingdon frowned angrily on hearing Maurice had connived at the criminal's escape, he spoke up

r out of my book and memory, and I will tell Dobson to add his salary to yours. No thanks," he continued in rather a chilling manner, as Maurice's eyes sparkled, and he attempted to speak; "it is a fair recompense for y

hould see the dark-eyed girl who had spoken so sweetly to him; and as he remembered her words and glances of

ing thought; but when the evening was over Maurice Traf

a ball; she came across the great lighted room to greet Maurice in a cloud of gauzy draperies. Diamonds gleamed on her neck and arms; her eyes

him and his master's daughter; what was there in common between them? Nea talked gayly

the handsome young clerk seemed to have so little to say to her. He was

d to look favorably on Lord Bertie's suit; she pouted and behaved like a spoiled child when her father spoke seriously to her on the subject. The death of one of Lord Bertie's sisters had put a stop t

was tired of him already-of his commonplace, handsome face-of his confidential whispers and delicately implied compliments-and then she looked up and met Maurice's thoughtful gray eyes fixed on her. Nea never knew why she blushed, or a strange, restless feeling came over her that moment; but

d of headache and feverishness, and had confided to Dobson that perhaps

nevertheless he ridiculed the idea that much was amiss, an

, and one night when Nea returned from a brilliant réunion she found Belgrave House a second ti

e, Mr. Huntingdon had desired that he should be kept informed of all matters connected with an important lawsuit of his at present pending; and during the tedious weeks of convalescence Mauri

er, or beg him to tell her about the tiresome lawsuit, or show him her birds and flowers, anything, in fact, that her caprice could devise to keep h

tiality for a face that seemed almost perfect in her eyes; she little thought that she was playing a

ne morning Nea woke up to the conviction that Maurice Trafford loved her, that

d set in, and Mr. Huntingdon had sent down word that Mr. Trafford had better wait until it was over. To do Mr. Huntingdo

light lit up the room; Nea, sitting in her favorite low chair, with her feet on the white

example. Nea listened to him in silence; but once he paused, and the words seemed to die on his lips. He had never seen her look like that before; she was trembling, her face was pale, and her eyes w