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house by the river, was 'just a little dull and weary; but that study and thoughts of him, combined with walks in the wonderful Gardens, brightened life for her considerably.'

The September sunset shone on the young people as, hand in hand, they walked together in the 'Wilderness,' remarking the shine on the water, the tender tints of the trees, the softness of the springy turf, and the confidence of the saucy bright-eyed birds.

When the witchery of twilight came upon them, they said goodbye tenderly, regretting that their short interview must end.

'You will write, Phil?

'Of course I will, dear little girl; and you will send me your long cheering answers, to comfort me for my enforced absence.'

'Indeed I will,' she said, gladdened by his earnest tone.

'And you won't forget you have promised to decide the important business of what I am to do to earn my own living and yours?'

A pretty blush spread new beauty in her looks at the significant combination of their interests, and she said,

'Leave it to me, Phil. I feel equal to a harder task for your sake.'

Then he watched her flit away in her rich sombre-tinted dress, the severe simplicity of which clearly outlined the graceful curves of her exquisite girlish shape. Once she turned and waved her hand to him, then was quickly lost between the trees, and somehow all the sunlight seemed to disappear with her, leaving the air chill and the scene gloomy.

'She takes the best part of me with her, dear little girl. How stanch and thorough she is! I wish I had her courage,' muttered Phil, as with long strides he walked by the river from Kew to Rich

mond, one of the most pleasant walks round London; yet Phil forgot to notice its beauty, because of his gloomy thoughts.

Gertrude sped on through the gathering dusk of the evening till she came to a riverside gate, which she entered, went across the long lawn, and then into a sombre old stone mansion hung with dark glistening ivy. Mounting the polished stairs, her footfall deadened by the strip of crimson carpet, she met her maid, a soft-eyed rosy-cheeked girl, about her own age, who said, under her breath,

'Your papa has been asking for you, Miss Gertrude, and Mr. Grey dines here.'

Gertrude said something impatiently that sounded like bother,' and hurried off to her room, followed by her trim little maid, who mentally noticed her dew-bedabbled skirts and moss-stained coat, and decided she had been in the 'Gardens.'

Gliding down the lamplit stairs half an hour later, in a misty robe of silvery blue, of such soft-shaded tint as one sees among the feathery clouds of a moonlit summer sky, she was met by a plain-faced clever-looking little man, whose grave dark eyes lighted up strangely at sight of her fresh soft beauty. The man's grave middle-aged plainness contrasted ill with her young looks as they stood together, he holding her hand and looking inquiringly into her sweet eyes. He sighed when he read her old aversion to him in her downcast looks -an aversion that her kind heart tried in vain to smother; for this man had been offered to her as a husband, and she, foolish girl, could not see the worth of the gem, because of the rough setting.

She took a big bunch of dewy roses he offered her with some cool words of thanks and welcome, then allowed him to lead her into

the heavy splendour of the diningroom, where her father awaited them a little impatiently, for dining becomes a serious business after sixty, and he feared the fish would spoil.

While dinner progressed Trudie could but notice how the usually dull meal became enjoyable through Mr. Grey's bright clever talk and ever-ready tact. She found herself growing interested, even grateful to the man who managed to make her father agreeable despite the gout and chronic quick temper. She almost regretted when the time came for her to leave the gentlemen and steal away to the state and chilliness of the drawing-room. Opening the piano, Gertie sat down to sing with softened voice and soul-stirred eyes. The Laplander's Love Song' leapt from her lips in living streams of song; and as Mr. Grey listened he felt the fiery beat of the music match the mad surging of his heart:

'Haste, my reindeer, and let us nimbly go,

Our am'rous journey through this dreary

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posed the air for me. He was a grand old man; all his days seemed set to music, so pure and bright they were, like light let down from Heaven. It was rarely that his genius found voice, he was so retiring and self-conscious; but to me he was a dear good friend, and when he died I was very lonely.'

Gertrude's face saddened as she spoke, and Mr. Grey looked at the pretty drooped head and graceful figure, that appeared so lonely in the large stately room, and imagined her life must have been very barren for one so young. His sympathy sounded in his voice as he led her on to tell him of her schooldays, and the great heart-yearning that had caused the timid child to seek friendship from the quaint old professor.

Gertrude had never opened her heart so freely to him before tonight. She felt a longing to be borne out of her self containment, a weariness of her own thoughts, a restless craving for sympathy, that bade her speak as she had never spoken before to living soul.

Presently he persuaded her to wrap herself in a warm shawl and walk with him out in the moonlit garden. The night was wonderful! one of those clear bright moonlights that come with the first frosts, when Heaven's lamp seems to hang clear of the sky like a big luminous pearl. The trees stood tall and dark beside the waters outlined in sombre grandeur against the cold blue sky.

Gertrude walked on in silence: the scene seemed to have laid a spell upon her. A year ago, at this same spot, on just such a night, Owen Grey had asked her to be his wife. And she had refused, a refusal that he took so quietly and kindly as to cause her to think he did not much regret her loss. 'Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.' It was long ere

he took courage to look into her face again.

She seemed very near his heart to-night; he felt she needed his friendship, perhaps his help, and he resolved to lock his love in his own heart and be to her only

a brother.

'May I tell you, Miss Calcot, how sincerely I regret to hear of your old friend Phil's change of fortune? Is there no hope that he may retain the property that should be justly his if long possession can constitute a right?'

Gertrude sighed wearily, he had brought back her pain so suddenly, but she spoke calmly when she said,

'I am afraid Phil's uncle must have destroyed the will. It is very unfortunate for us; but Phil will work and win a new standing in the world that has treated him so wickedly.'

And your engagement still continues ?'

'Of course. Did you think so poorly of me as to suppose any change of fortune could influence me?'

'Forgive me, child, and tell me what are your plans.'

'We have none as yet. I have promised to think for my poor boy.'

All at once her face lighted up with a look of resolve. Putting a hand on his, she said excitedly,

'Mr. Grey, will you help us? Cannot you give Phil a place in your office ?'

Mr. Grey was silent, pleased at her confidence, and yet stirred by a jealous rage that she should ask him, of all mankind, to befriend his rival. Yet he loved her too well to refuse her anything. Had she asked for his life, he would have yielded it to her, glad to show his devotion.

'I see I have counted too largely on your friendship, Mr. Grey.

Consider all unsaid, and let us return to the house.'

'Perhaps it were too much to expect to find entire unselfishness in a man. I can concede, and still be selfish; for I can do what you ask for the mere pleasure of serving you, and helping on that happiness the thought of which is such a glory to you. Shake hands, childie, and believe me grateful for your faith in me.'

Trudie's heart was too full for thanks. She could but clasp his hand in both of hers, and press her pretty lips upon it.

'Don't do that, Gertrude. You forget I am but human, and you set my envious lips longing to supplant my unworthy hand.'

He spoke lightly, but Trudie saw his face change, and heard his shaken voice. Moved out of herself by his goodness, she uplifted her pure lips to his of her own sweet will, and let him kiss her.

CHAPTER II. .

Two years had passed peacefully away, and Trudie again wandered alone in the Wilderness, thinking, thinking, with a haggard weary look in her fair face and an ache at her heart that seemed to stifle her. The sun slanted down upon her; but, much as she loved the old Gardens and the wonderful trees, her eyes left their beauty unnoticed to-day. True, usually she loved to look upon the stately height of wooded beauty, and 'believe a goddess shrined in every tree,' but to-day her heart was too full of pain and perplexity to admit of such pleasant picturing.

A quick step caused her to turn and meet Mr. Grey, who came towards her with hands outstretched and a look of compassion in the clear depths of his steadfast eyes.

'Well,' he said, gazing into her troubled face, 'I suppose you wonder what I wanted you for. You see, dear, I want to talk about something that concerns you and some one who is dearer to you than all the world beside.'

'It is some new trouble about Phil, is it not?'

'Yes, child, it is; but don't look so scared, for the ill is as yet not beyond your power of curing.'

'Tell me at once, please; I feel by the sinking of my heart that there is more the matter than you would have me know.'

Nonsense, child; I am only a little anxious about Phil for your sake. He is a fine fellow, but, like all healthy young animals, a little wild goes the pace a bit too fast for the position of trust we have placed him in. In fact, unless he changes his present course of life, I, in duty to my partner, must cease to hold this handsome sweetheart in the esteem I trust he still deserves.'

'What do you want me to do, Owen? For my sake, be patient; Phil is weak, I know; but he is true, honest, and manly.'

Trudie looked into Mr. Grey's eyes beseechingly, as though begging him to confirm her opinion. He sighed a little wearily, and looked away at the river, the boats, the trees, anywhere but into that appealing young face, and said,

'Yes, child; he is all this, and more, perhaps. I try to do his merits justice. What I want of you is that you should be his good angel: come to town and stay with sister Lucy and I. Renew your influence over this reckless fellow who is throwing away every chance of happiness and prosperity to gratify his thirst for the excitement he calls "life." He loves you, and He loves you, and by the power of that love you must hold him back from ruin of body and soul. Do not look so

frightened, child; perhaps I put the case too strongly, but my concern for your future makes me sterner than I should be, if it were not that I believe your happiness depends on this foolish fellow's wellbeing. Will you come to us, dear?'

'Yes, at once, if you will get the dad's permission.'

'That I had secured before speaking to you, so that is comfortably settled so far. You had better return with me to-night, and let your maid follow. Shall it be so?'

'You are very kind to both Phil and me-kinder than we deserve.' 'Hush; I cannot be too kind to you to satisfy my own heart. But come, let us go into the palmhouse; I hear it is a perfect paradise of leaves.'

Trudie allowed him to draw her hand through his arm, and lead her where he wished. She was very silent all the life seemed frozen in her heart. She wondered how the present perplexity would end. Presently she found that Mr. Grey was talking to her about the grand tall palms, and she tried to listen and answer brightly; but something kept drearily whispering to her, 'You do not know all: there is more pain, more pain, more pain.'

She permitted him to lead her from one fernery to another; after awhile they stood in the house where the Victoria Regia's regal leaves lay like plates of malachite upon the water, and the royal flower upheld its fairy face to the faint sweet air.,

'Is it too warm here for you, child? You look ill.'

'No; I am not ill, thanks, and I like to see the flowers. There is a greenhouse close by, I believe, where there is a beautiful eucharis in full bloom; shall we go to see it ?'

'Yes, come along; I must trust to you to find it.'

A few moments later, they stood alone before the ethereal blossom. Entranced by its subtle suggestiveness of spiritual life, the pearly petals seemed to bend their pale

to whisper to Trudie of peace. She looked into its heart, felt the scent of its faint perfume fill her with a strange charm. In a hushed voice, she said softly,

'It seems to me this flower, with its Christ-like face, must have a soul.'

'Indeed, its fairness might make it the soul of flowers, Gertrude. But come, dear: you must tear yourself away; 'tis very hot here, and it is time we started back, if we do not intend to keep your father waiting for his dinner.'

Gertrude had been in town a week, but had seen but little of Phil. To her surprise, he seemed to shrink from all signs of friendship from his employer. He did not seem his usual cheery self in the grand Kensington mansion, where Owen Grey lived with his handsome widowed sister, who took a great interest in the struggling young fellow.

Gertrude could not like Mrs. Daintree, try as she would; she owned her handsome, clever, kind, and everything one counts as 'taking; but there could be no true sympathy between this grandlyimperative woman of the world and the tired true-hearted girl who, at twenty, confessed life, so far, had been to her a big blunder. In her innermost heart Trudie confessed herself vaguely disappointed in Phil; still that feeling made her all the more affectionate and considerate to him. While he-well, he wished he knew not what; wished for the missing will to be found, and to be again in his old position, with a regally

lovely woman for his wife, a woman who held him in a bondage that bore down honour, and held all suffering, sin, or sloth as trifles, so that he could hug his miserable joy and cause her to surrender herself to him.

Trudie felt the change in him, but fancied the fault was her own. She wanted to hold him back from his baser self, to lead him through paths of love to a nobler life; but this was a hard task, for, the more she clung to him, the farther he seemed to drift away, the deeper to sink to that fever of unrest that threatened him with ruin.

'Why not give him up?' asked Lucy Daintree one day when she found her guest in tears, the harvest of a long unprofitable talk with Phil. 'Let him gang his ain gait, child; his fate is too much for such feeble hands as yours to hold.'

She threw Gertrude's pretty pink palms from her clasp as if she loathed them.

'O, I could not break my promise to him. I must be true to him in his poverty, as I was in his prosperity.'

'But does he desire you to be true ?'

'Why should he not? He loves

me.'

'Are you sure of that?'

'As sure as years of companionship and need could make me.'

Yet you may be mistaken; and, in clinging to him thus, drag him down to unknown depths of misery and deceit. If he were restored to his old standing, and you were sure he were better without you, would you give him up?'

'Indeed I would,' said Gertrude, surprised at the eager fire of her friend's speech.

'O! and break your heart, I suppose, with the pain of parting with this perfect lover ?'

'Hush' said Gertrude. 'Why

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