"I WISH he had chosen any other time than this for his visit. It is too provoking. Belle is sure to be in the way!" and Mrs. Elder drew her embroidery-needle through her work with a jerk that betrayed very plainly her annoyance.

"You can't put him off a week or two, I suppose ?" said her sister Augusta, who was reclining on a sofa near by, a book in her hand.

"No; he would think it odd after we have urged him so often to come at any time. And there's no hope of Aunt Delia's return for ten days at least!"

"I presume not; and Belle, meanwhile, will be a fixture here."

"Yes, I can't get rid of her. I promised Aunt Delia I wouldn't let her out of my sight if I could help it." "I don't wonder she exacted the promise! What an Vol. XXV., No. 5-34.

odd freak it was for Belle to run away from school and hide herself a whole year! I confess I am dreadfully curious about it. I wonder if she will ever explain it."

"I don't suppose she will," answered her sister. "She is the most stubborn girl I ever saw! See how resolutely she holds herself aloof from us all."

"She knows we don't approve of her," said Augusta. "And no wonder! But she may be a little more socially inclined after Edgar Hoyt comes. A young, handsome man, with an income of ten thousand a year, is not often kept at a distance."

"No; and nothing would please her more than to keep him from bestowing any attention on you, Augusta."

Augusta smiled languidly and glanced in the long mirror which hung opposite the sofa on which she sat. She was proud of her stately figure, blue-black hair and

clearly out features. She knew she was conceded to be handsome even by her enemies, and she intended to show off her beauty to the best advantage during Edgar Hoyt's visit.

With that end in view, she had ordered several new dresses, though she was already in debt, her small income not being sufficient to meet half her wants. She was dependent upon her brother-in-law for a home, and it was only natural that she should desire an establishment of her own. But, though nearly thirty years of age, she had failed to secure one, and the visit of Edgar Hoyt had been arranged especially for her benefit by Mrs. Elder, who was almost morbidly anxious to have her sister make a good marriage, and did not scruple to scheme toward that end.

Mr. Elder was a banker, and his home was a handsome country mansion, surrounded by gardens, orchards and fertile fields, and situated at such a convenient distance from the city that he was able to go back and forth every day. It was through negotiating some loans that he had made Edgar Hoyt's acquaintance, and had received from him the promise of a visit.

So anxious was Mrs. Elder to keep the field clear for Augusta, that she invited no other guests; but when her aunt, Mrs. Lester, who was a widow, was compelled to make a journey to the Far West to the sick - bed of an only brother, and asked her to take charge of Belle during her absence, Mrs. Elder did not know how to refuse.

Belle was in disgrace. She had been placed by her stepmother at a boarding-school to finish her education in French, music and English literature, but had been there only three months when she suddenly disappeared. As a "parlor boarder" she had been allowed many privileges, one of which was to go out walking alone once a day, and she had gone out one morning and failed to return. She had left a note to be forwarded to her stepmother, in which she had said simply that she would write soon and explain all. But no future communication from her had been received, and it was a year before Mrs. Lester saw her again. Then she had met her by accident in the street, and had taken her home at once and sternly demanded from her a full history of the twelve months which had elapsed since she had left the school.

But Belle was silent. No threats, persuasions or arguments could make her speak. She absolutely refused to tell her stepmother anything except that she had earned her living by coloring photographs in a studio, a work for which she had always shown great aptitude in her schooldays, when it had been pursued as a pleasure. Of her reason for leaving the school she declined to speak.

Perhaps had Mrs. Lester been a different woman, or the girl's own mother, she would have succeeded in wringing from Belle's lips the history of that missing year in all its details; but she was a cold, hard, severe woman, and had never had much love for her beautiful stepdaughter. Her means were very limited, and she looked upon Belle as a burden, and had never sought to win her affection.

But she resolved to do her duty by her, and to keep her, if possible, from attempting any more escapades, and with this purpose in view had, on going West for an indefinite time, left her in Mrs. Elder's care, with countless charges as to her treatment.

"It would be folly now to hope she will make a good marriage," said the stepmother. "She has damaged herself too much for that. But she can be trained for a Governess."

Belle Lester's face wore anything but a happy expression as she stood by one of the parlor-windows looking out on the lawn, the evening before the day on which Edgar Hoyt was expected. But the melancholy, wistful look in her blue eyes had grown habitual during the past few weeks; for it is not a pleasant thing to stand outside the pale of love and sympathy, and she had felt keenly her position in Mrs. Elder's household. But she uttered no word of blame or reproach. She was far too proud to bare her wounds to unloving eyes.

She had been a gay, joyous girl in Mrs. Westbrook's seminary, and she was now a reserved, silent woman, but the secret of the change was known only to herself.

But she was as beautiful as ever, and the ineffable sadness that shaded the dark lustre of her eyes only lent to her a greater charm. But, unlike Augusta Vane, she cared little for her beauty. Her thick, soft, golden hair was pushed back from her low, white brow in careless confusion, and she wore neither lace nor jewels. Her only ornament was a bunch of purple pansies on her breast.

She was in so deep a reverie that the opening of the door did not rouse her, and she started and colored when the voice of Augusta Vane broke the silence.

"All alone, Belle ?" she said, as she seated herself in the most comfortable chair she could find, and trifled carelessly with a circlet of gold on her wrist. "Well, this is the last of our quiet evenings, I suppose ?"

"I don't understand you," said Belle, in a cold, indifferent voice.

"Do you mean to say you have not heard we are to have company? Yes, George is to bring a young man home with him to-morrow, to stay three weeks." "I had not heard of it," said Belle, not turning from the window.

"Yes, and the young man is the catch of the season, my dear. He came into a fortune only six months ago, through the death of an old grand-uncle in Australia. He has been dreadfully run after, and is said to be singularly indifferent to ladies' charms. Perhaps, however, he will not be so callous when he sees you, Belle." A bitter expression flitted across Belle's face.

"I shall not compete for the prize," she said, coldly. This was precisely the answer for which Augusta had hoped.

"You will alter your mind when you see him," she

said.

Belle was silent.

"It is best not to make rash promises," continued Augusta. "Now, I am willing to wager almost any amount that you get up a grand flirtation with him."

A look of quiet contempt was the only reply Belle made to this speech, and, turning abruptly from the window, she left the room.

"She is certainly the most peculiar girl I ever saw," mused Augusta. "I'd give a good deal to know the secret of that missing year. I dare say a love-affair had something to do with it. Her whole disposition seems changed. Well, I scarcely think that, after what I said, she'll pay much attention to Edgar Hoyt."

The visitor arrived late on the following afternoon, and was received with all due honor, Augusta wearing one of her prettiest dresses and her most fascinating smile. She was much impressed with his appearance, and was loath to part with him when he was shown to the best guest-chamber-a large, handsomely furnished room, the windows of which overlooked the garden.

"A most delightful place in which to spend a few weeks," thought Edgar Hoyt, as, having performed his

evening toilette, he walked to one of the windows and drew aside the lace curtain.

As he gazed listlessly down at the beautifully kept beds of flowers, the straight, neat walks, and trim hedges, a girl appeared suddenly from behind a clump of cedars, and turned in the direction of the house.

It was Belle, and, as if drawn by some strange attraction, she looked up, with some eagerness in her face, at the long windows of the guest-chamber. Edgar Hoyt uttered a faint exclamation and started back, letting the curtain fall into its place again. But too late-their eyes had met !

*

Never had Belle Lester looked prouder or colder than when she entered the dining-room at the ringing of the dinner-bell at seven o'clock, and she acknowledged her introduction to Mr. Hoyt by only a faint inclination of her golden head. And not once during the progress of the meal did she even glance in his direction.

"She's determined to show me she is not impressionable," thought Augusta, well pleased.

But she was not at all pleased, a little later, to observe that Mr. Hoyt, who sat next to her, was abstracted and ill at ease, and that his eyes rested continually on the fair, cold face opposite him. In vain did Augusta smile her sweetest and talk her gayest. The young man answered her lively sallies at random, and evidently sustained with an effort his share in the conversation.

It was no better when the adjournment to the parlor was made. Belle had retired to her own room the moment dinner was over, and Augusta had Mr. Hoyt entirely to herself, and played and sang to him, and looked over albums and books of foreign views with an unflagging amiability and interest which were almost sublime. But she told herself, in a rage, when she went to her own room, at the end of the evening, that she might as well have tried to entertain a stone, so utterly unappreciative of her efforts had Edgar Hoyt seemed. His thoughts had evidently been far away throughout the whole evening, and he had welcomed with unmistakable relief Mr. Elder's proposition to smoke a late cigar on the terrace.

"It's all Belle's fault, you can be sure of that," said Mrs. Elder, when she came into her sister's room to receive an account of her grievances. "George told me an hour ago that when he was out in the garden with Mr. Hoyt, just before dinner, he left him by the orchardgate while he went to the stable to give an order, and when he came back he was just in time to see Belle walking away as fast as she could go. Of course she had had the assurance to speak to Mr. Hoyt without an introduction. It was just like her! And then when I introduced him to her in the dining-room she acted as if she had never seen him before !"

noon, shielded from the view of any one in the parlor by a great date-palm. Belle was in the parlor at the piano, and when she began to sing, Mrs. Elder put down her book to listen, for the girl's voice had been highly cultivated, and the song she had taken up, "Golden Days," brought out to the full its pathetic power.

The sweet, impassioned notes rose with their burden of sadness upon the air through one verse, but at the beginning of the next there was a sudden crash of the piano - keys, and the song terminated abruptly.

At the same moment Mrs. Elder heard the voice of Edgar Hoyt, and peering around the palm, she saw him standing by the piano, his dark eyes fixed on Belle's proud, half-averted face, and one hand extended appealingly toward her. His attitude and expression gave evidence that he was under the influence of some strong emotion, but Mrs. Elder could not catch his words.

But he had spoken only a moment when Belle interrupted him with a gesture of pain and deprecation. "Explanation!" Mrs. Elder heard her say. "How can it be explained? No, I will not listen."

"You must and shall," answered Edgar Hoyt, in a loud voice. "I have a right to be heard," and he made a step forward as if to seize her in his arms.

But she was too quick for him. Even as his breath was on her cheek she started back, threw open the door of the library and disappeared, just as Mrs. Elder, white with anger and chagrin, but trying to suppress all appearance of excitement, emerged from her hiding-place.

"Mr. Hoyt," she said, "I have been a most unwilling witness of the scene that has just passed. It requires no explanation, knowing Belle Lester as I do. She has only been trying upon you some of the arts for which she is noted. I deeply regret that she should have deceived you, but assure you that I have done my best to prevent just such a catastrophe."

"I do not understand you, madam," said the young man, who had grown very pale.

"Perhaps you will when I tell you that my aunt's stepdaughter-I am thankful she is no relation of mineis here under the strictest espionage. It is only right that you should know that she has disgraced her name for ever."

"Disgraced it!" repeated Edgar Hoyt, aghast.

"Yes. There is a year missing from the record of her life, for which she refuses absolutely to account. She ran away from the school in which my aunt had placed her, and for a year we knew nothing of her. Until she gives her reasons for leaving the school, and accounts for that year, she is beyond the pale of either affection or esteem. And you will see "

"That it is wise to leave me alone in my disgrace," interrupted a voice, and Belle appeared in the doorway of the library, her proud head held high, her eyes flashing.

"If it is, he shall know the story of her leaving Mrs. Westbrook's school," said Mrs. Elder. "I fancy that will bring him to his senses. She will find I am a match for her; and I will see that she does not have a chance to see him alone."

Several days went by, during which Mrs. Elder kept as keen a watch as possible on her aunt's stepdaughter, but saw nothing to arouse her ire further, and was beginning to think she was mistaken in supposing Belle had any designs on their visitor, when she became the accidental witness of a scene which showed her that her fears had been well founded.