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"Think it," thundered Tom, I know it."

too, but Bobbet did talking enough for both of us. I can scarcely think of any subject which this inveterate searcher after knowledge did not discuss ; he was particularly curious, I remember, to find out what was at the centre of the earth and the way to get there. He wondered how they ever found a tree long enough to make the North Pole, and how it was that we didn't stand on our heads when the world turned round; also, what we would stand upon if we did, and similar useful subjects. At last, even he grew silent, and the conversation became very tame indeed.

"Let me see, Miss Thorold," said I, with a dismal attempt to appear unconcerned, "I believe it is the day after to-morrow that I leave-how quickly the days fly. My stay here seems more like a week than a month."

"I am glad you have enjoyed yourself," replied Millie, with a slight effort, and again fell into silence.

"Millie," said Bobbet, who had turned sleepy, sliding up to her, "Mil

lie, you look just like I feel when I want a kiss."

This little speech was the last straw, and broke my vow and my silence together. I don't know just what I said nor how far I got in my base confession when the whiteness of my love's face brought me to myself and showed me the wrong of the step, I had taken.

"Miss Millie," I faltered, “I have sinned against all honour, for I am not free to speak; forgive me, and forget this if you canmy only excuse is in my love-I will not offend again, goodbye."

"Good-bye," whispered Millie, bending her white face over the sleeping child, so that I could not read its message, and in another moment I had left her.

If ever a man arose with a sad heart it was I next morning. I must never see her again, after my miserable confession, that was certain. It was also certain that the day of happiness was over, and the night was darker than even I had fancied. By my foolish want of self-control, I had added the serpent sting of remorse to the pain of unrequited love and lost my honour and my self-respect together. These and many other reflections of the same character occupied my mind as I drew the strap of my one trunk next morning and sat down on the lid to make it catch. As I was engaged in this rather discomposing effort the door opened and Tom came in. Not laughing, gay, rolicsome Tom; but Tom with a very grave face. This was comforting; perhaps the cousin had refused him and we could condole with each other!

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Tom, old boy," said I, in eager explanation, "got a telegram from our folks last night, and must go back to the city one day earlier. Come and sit on this trunk, like a good fellow; it won't go down.'

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"I won't sit on your trunk," replied Tom, angrily and without the faintest trace of humour; " and I don't wonder you have a sudden summons home; any man would after the way in which you have acted. To think," he declared warmly, "that I should have chosen as my friend one who is so lost to any sense of honour as to accept my hospitality for the purpose of making love to my sister, while all the time his hand and his honour are engaged elsewhere."

"What," I gasped, "why Tom, you don't mean to say that you think I am engaged, do you?"

"Think it, "thundered Tom, "I know it! I heard what you said to Millie yesterday. 'I have sinned against all honour, for I am not free to speak'; those were your very words, sir-deny them if you can!"

"I don't deny them," I answered, jumping off the trunk in my excitement, while a light broke suddenly on my bewildered brain, "and I don't want to; but Tom, dear old friend, can it be that I was mistaken, I thought that Millie was engaged to Mr. Ainsley?"

I never saw Tom look so bewildered as at that moment-never. "This is a regular Comedy of Errors," said he, "of course Millie is not engaged to Ainsley, or to anyone else; but whatever gave you that idea. I can't see light at all."

"It was Bobbet," I confessed, rather shame-facedly, as I saw how jealously prejudiced I had been. I then ex

plained to him how Bobbet had told me that his mother had said that he must run away, for Millie and Mr. Ainsley were engaged.

"Engaged in discussing their respective duties as bridesmaid and groomsman at my wedding," said Tom.

And then Tom laughed, and shook me by the hand and laughed again, and sat down on the refractory trunk and laughed some more, and I laughed, too, and never felt so happy in my life; for I felt that Millie loved me and that I was free to speak at last.

Isabelle E. Mackay.

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All the round year the tramp of armed men,
Crisp bugle calls, the guns at noon and night,
And martial music tell to us again

That Britain guards us with a jealous might.
Where the loft citadel stands stern and steep,
Long may her banner grandly o'er us wave,
And loyal hearts beneath it proudly leap,
Because no Briton ever was a slave!

All blessings on our dear old city rest!

Safe homes and happy make our souls rejoice, And unto God, who giveth all things best,

Let thanks be raised by grateful heart and voice!

Constance Fairbanks

I.

T was Christmas Eve.

IT

RECONCILED.

A Christmas Story.

In his cosy sitting-room sat Harry Lingard, and on the cheerful hearthrug lay his sole companion, a fox-terrier named Jack. Jack, whose day had been spent in the frantic but fruitless chasing of sparrows in the snowy streets, looked tired but comfortable; the handsome face of his master, whose chief employment that day had been the choosing and despatching of a beautiful gold bracelet to a certain lady at Linden-Lea, wore a decidedly sad expression.

"It is good to be a dog," thought Harry, "bad to be a married man and have no wife. Such a wretch is an anomaly in polite society."

He snap

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At the word, Jack sprang round and stood with his eyes fixed on the curtained doorway, his stump of a tail wagging expectantly.

"She won't come, Jack."

Jack resumed his position for conversation.

"No, she won't," went on his master, and a dry, husky sob struggled from his breast, and a tear-yes, actually a tear-fell into Jack's right eye and made him blink.

"Women have no hearts, Jack, nowa-days at least, nothing to count onor, she would have come back long ago to her to a faithful, old dog that loves her.'

There was a ring at the door-bell, and Jack, with a bark, rushed through the curtains into the hall, followed by his master, who opened the street door; and the light from the vestibule lamp fell upon as dirty a little impish face as could be found in a city noted for its cleanliness and sanitary economics.

"You Mr. Lingard?" asked the imp, unhesitatingly.

"I am, young man," replied Harry. "Step in out of the cold. Never mind You won't be able to get Now?"

your tuque ! into it again.

"You're to come straight with me. A gentleman wants to see you," answered the imp. "The lady gave me ten cents to fetch you."

"Indeed! Where may this imperative gentleman live, my young Mercury?" "That's not my name. I'm Joe-I am; and I wasn't to tell you anythin' -only to bring you."

Harry, wondering a little at the imp's assurance, laughed, returned to the hall for his hat and coat, and, in a few minutes, was walking down the street with his strange guide. They entered a house in a row of shabby tenements in the east end, and the boy led Harry upstairs and knocked at the door of a room on the first flat. The door was opened by a fair-haired, sweet-faced young lady, who bade him enter.

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Harry, old fellow, I thought you would come. I am glad to see you," came from a pale, sick-looking, though handsome, young man reclining in an easy chair.

"Herbert!" exclaimed Harry, clasping the thin, worn hand. "Is it, indeed, you?"

"Annie," said the young man, without rising, "this is Harry Lingard, my sister's husband. My wife Harry."

"Your wife?" gasped Harry, taking

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"Yes, dear, I will be more careful," said the husband, drawing his wife to him. "Sit here, Harry; I want to talk to you.

"When I left home two years ago I was forbidden my father's house. What I was before that, Harry, you know. What I have been since, Annie knows don't you, dear?" he asked, kissing her hand.

"You have been the best and dearest of husbands," was the fond reply.

"Then, I am what my wife has made me," said Herbert, simply.

"I vowed I would never enter my father's house again. Then I went to Montreal, where I met Annie and married her; and I have found that there is no truer protection under heaven for a man against himself than a fond and faithful wife. Everything went well with us at first, Harry; but my constitution does not seem to be the best. Three months ago I caught a severe cold, which, being neglected, promises to"-he winced a little-"to lay me up. Annie here is the cleverest little woman!" Annie blushed and raised a warning finger.

"She can speak French like a native. She is a capital stenographer and typewriter, and she has worked herself to death to make all ends meet."

"Herbert!" exclaimed Annie, "do not say such things, please."

"I wouldn't care, Harry," went on Herbert, "if it were merely for my own sake-but something must be done for her, now and I have come here to play the prodigal to humble myself before my father; and I want you to help me."

Harry took out his watch, but it was

remarkable what a time he was in making out the hour.

"It is nine o'clock. In ten minutes I shall have a hack here, and you and Mrs. Travick are going to my house. There is plenty of room there, God knows!" said Harry, with a bitterness his hearers could not understand.

"Now, not a word, Mrs. Travick. The drive will not hurt Herbert; so please be ready."

Without waiting for further speech, Harry was gone; and an hour later, to Jack's astonishment, no fewer than three persons were cosily grouped around the sitting-room fire, one of whom was young and fair, and, to his intense delight and comfort, wore petti

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Harry nodded; whilst Herbert and his wife watched the sad, averted face.

"I may as well tell you," said Harry, looking up. "It will save misapprehension.

"Our marriage, Herbert, was a mistake. Bessie should have married a wealthy man, and I a woman like your wife." And he smiled sadly.

"Business was bad-wretched; and I could not afford to go the pace necessary to meet Bessie's requirements. This led to misunderstandings, and, I regret to say, bitter words, and she returned to her parents' home. That is all there is to it."

"And, does your your wife never, never come to see you, Mr. Lingard?" asked Annie, with amazement in her tender eyes.

"She has not been inside of this house for two months," Harry replied huskily. "I am afraid we are a sad lot, we Travicks," said Herbert. "We don't seem to be able to run straight. You won't care to accompany me to LindenLea to-morrow, then, Harry?"

"Oh, yes," laughed Harry. "Your parents and I are the best of friends;

so are Bessie and I,-friends, you know." And he wondered how she would receive that gold bracelet he had sent her.

Herbert and his wife retired for the night and left their host alone with his thoughts and Jack.

For some time Harry Lingard sat gazing at the two vacant chairs in such loving conjunction on the opposite side of the fire-place, and his thoughts were bitter as death. Alas! how many of these little tragical ironies of life are being enacted every day! To Harry, Herbert Travick, a home outcast, penniless, ill, almost starving, with that fair young life twining round his existence, was an object of envy. He, with his tasteful home and a competence sufficient to make a woman like Herbert's wife richly contented, could not keep the woman he had married within his home.

The clock struck twelve. It was Christmas Day-the day in all the year sacred to tender feeling and the reunion of hearts estranged. With a groan, Harry buried his head in his arms on the table.

Yes; it was a mistake, he said to himself, to marry Bessie Travick. Nurtured in luxury, the belle of fashionable society, with a home and life that satisfied every requirement of her nature, how could he, a mere business man-rising, it was true-hope to make her happy? And yet, he thought, he had honestly striven to do so. How often, when brain-sick with planning and heart-sick with the fear of ruin, he had danced a nightly attendance on his beautiful wife in her ceaseless round of gaiety, and, weary and leaden-souled, had stolen from her side the next morning to renew the stern grapple with the hard necessities of business life! Then, when banks were closing their doors, and old reliable houses failing, when every dollar he had in the world was needed to keep his own little ship afloat, she had proposed and insisted on giving a series of entertainments that would have stripped the roof from their heads. What had he done then?

In his desperation he had inveighed

against the useless extravagance, and when his wife, hurt by his stern words, had answered hotly, he had bade her mind her own affairs and cultivate a

better temper. Then, with the additional burthen of this sharp estrangement round his heart, he had taken his way down to his office, and, by dint of clever management and pure pluck, succeeded in floating his storm-tossed little bark into smoother and safer waters. He had come home that evening, not unnaturally, elated with his triumph, and ready to make any possible amends for his harshness and necessary restrictions, to find by his dinner plate a perfumed note from his wife, informing him that, as she felt she had no place in his home or his affections, she had resolved to seek the shelter of her parents' roof. Whereupon he had sprung from the table and despatched two notes, one to his wife and another to her father; the former stating that her own home was open to her whenever she should think fit to enter it, but that he would never ask her to do so; the latter requesting Mr. Travick not to interfere, but to allow things to run their own course.

In the light and warmth of the touching scenes of conjugal trust and affection which he had witnessed that night, he taxed himself with his fair share of the blame; but his heart was torn with tender regrets and sore with hopeless longing. Would Herbert Travick's wife, under similar conditions, have acted as Bessie had acted? He could not think it possible. Wherein lay the difference? Annie loved her husband; Bessie did not. There was the whole trouble in a nutshell. Bessie had never loved him, and that was his misfortune; he worshipped the very image of his absent wife, and that was his misery. Things must take their course; that was his conclusion for the twentieth time.

"Jack, old fellow, shall we go to bed?" said Harry, rising. Jack yawned, stretched himself and walked sedately to the curtains. Up the softly-carpeted stairs they stole, Jack leading the way. This was the nightly performance. Ah!

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