might be away, so he fell back upon a plain command. "I very seldom interfere with your plans, but it will not suit me for you to go away now, so you must pay your visit at another time." He went out of the room without another word, and Hettie was left to swallow her wrath as best she could. "I can't imagine why he wants to give a party," she said to Gerald. "He never did such a thing before." "I believe he is in love with Nora Stamford," said Gerald. He uttered the words thoughtlessly, but he was quite unprepared for their effect. A flash of anger lit up Hettie's face. "How dare he think of such a thing?" she exclaimed. "Well, really, Hettie, I don't quite see that! said Gerald. "I suppose John has as good a right to think of it as anybody else." "I don't believe he ever thought of it at all!" exclaimed Hettie, with a sudden change of ground. "It is all her doing, of course; but I will save John yet." Gerald made no answer; he was angry with John himself, but somehow Hettie's remarks jarred upon him, and he walked off, leaving her to recover her temper alone. Lazy and pleasure-loving as Gerald was, there were yet some sparks of good in his nature. For the first time he fully realised the sacrifices that his brother had made for him, and a healthy feeling of shame began to stir within his heart; he kept out of Hettie's way as much as he could during the day, but when his brother came home he went at once to find him. If you "I've been thinking over what you said to me last night," he began; "and I'm going to ask you a favour. You told me that you would pay for a tutor for me this vacation, but I would not agree. are in the same mind still, I shall gratefully accept, and will pay back the money as soon as I can. I have made up my mind to look for a mastership in a school, and of course it is important that I should take a good degree." No one could have called John plain who saw the light in his face at these words. He did not say much, but Gerald understood him, and the two brothers were drawn nearer together that night than they had ever been before. "Do you see that, Hettie?" said Gerald, half an hour later, as he held an envelope towards his sister, so that she could read the address. "Hugh Mowbray, Esq. Why, that is the tutor John wanted you to read with." "Yes, I am going to him next week." "Gerald!" cried Hettie indignantly. "You promised me not to go! You don't mean to say that John has over-persuaded you?" "John has said nothing more about it. It is my own doing. I think that I have been a burden on him quite long enough, and I mean to turn over a new leaf." "John is the most ungenerous person I ever knew!" cried Hettie passionately. "Of course he wants to throw us off now that wretched girl has got hold of him." "I really think you go too far, Hettie," said Gerald. "I wish I had never made that remark; but if it should be true, you ought to be glad, and not go on in this kind of way." 66 Nobody thinks anything of me," said Hettie, with a burst of tears that sent her brother out of the room. Like all selfish people, she was quite incapable of looking at the matter from any point of view other than her own, and it seemed to her very unjust that she should not have the first place with everybody. She determined to do all in her power to hinder Gerald's idea from ever coming to pass, justifying it to herself by saying that she was acting for John's real welfare. She made an early opportunity to go and call at Westfield Lodge, that she might find out how things were going. Nora was alone in the drawing-room when she arrived, and the first thing that caught Hettie's eye was a rare plant that stood on the table. "Why, that is surely one of the plants from our greenhouse?" she said. "Yes, it is," said Nora. "I have often wished to have one, and when Dr. Douglas heard me say so he kindly brought me this." Hettie's face grew dark; John was so choice over these particular plants that she needed no further evidence that there was some truth in Gerald's suggestion, and she resolved to lose no time. "My brother is very fond of flowers," she began. "It is almost the only amusement he has, for he is completely wrapped up in his practice. However, he is most anxious to get away now for a little while; he has a very strong attraction in London just now, and I think even his work will hardly keep him away." She ended with a little laugh and a meaning look, and seeing from Nora's face that she understood what she intended to convey, she changed the subject, and after talking for a little while on indifferent topics, took her leave. She felt triumphant, but a little guilty, as she walked home. She had said nothing more than the truth, but she had omitted to add that the "attraction" in question was a brother-doctor on leave of absence from a foreign appointment. Her conscience was not at ease, and she was relieved to find that John would not be home to dinner. It was late before he came in, and she ran up-stairs as soon as she heard him, but before she had time to shut her bedroom door he followed her up the stairs and came into her room. "I saw you going up, Hettie," he said. "I want to speak to you." What is it?" asked Hettie sullenly. "I want, first of all, to tell you of my engagement to Nora Stamford," said John. "It is your doing that it has come about so quickly, and in that way I am grateful to you. But you must give me an explanation of the extraordinary statements that you have made." “I don't know what you mean," said Hettie. "Yes, you do. I went to Westfield Lodge this evening, and finding that Nora's manner had utterly changed since the last time I saw her, I told her that I must know why. It was a long while before I could get at the truth, but at last she told me what you said to her this afternoon; and when I had proved to her that it was all a fabrication, I asked her to be my wife, and she consented." John's words were matter-of-fact, but he drew a deep breath of happiness as he ended, and stood for a minute absorbed in a reverie that made him oblivious to all else. An impatient sound from Hettie recalled him to himself. "What explanation have you to give me?" he asked. "I only said what was true," said Hettie. "If Nora chose to put her own construction on it, it has nothing to do with me." "You may not have said an untruth, but you implied it," said John sternly. "It is very hard to forgive you, Hettie; I could not do it if I were not so happy." "I don't want you to forgive me," said Hettie; and seeing that nothing could be done with her in her present mood, John left the room and went downstairs, sorely missing the sisterly sympathy that would have made his joy complete. Left to herself, Hettie indulged in a passion of selfcommiseration. "Nobody cares for me!" she exclaimed. "I will never stay here to let that girl triumph over me! I will go away and earn my bread by the sweat of my brow, and then, perhaps, John will be sorry for what he has done." The more she thought of it, the more the plan pleased her. She would go now; the Cardales would be delighted to have her, and John deserved a fright for a punishment. She set to work at once to choose out a few things that she could carry conveniently, and as soon as morning began to dawn she stole quietly down-stairs, and, unlocking a side door, slipped out of the house. It was a long walk to the station, but her excitement kept her from feeling any fatigue, and she reached it in time to get something to cat before she started on her journey. It was late in the afternoon when she arrived at the town of Lockhurst, and a short walk brought her to the well-known gate, with its pretty avenue of trees. Two figures were visible at the other end, and as Hettie came quickly up the drive she recognised Ethel. She was walking with a lady who was a stranger to Hettie, but, without pausing to think, she sprang forward with an eager gesture, crying, "Ethel! Ethel!" "Is it you, Hettie?" said Ethel, in amazement. Yes, it is," said Hettie, with a sob. "I have come to you for shelter and protection." "Will you excuse me for a moment?" said Ethel, turning to her companion, who had considerately walked away a few steps; then, taking Hettie by the arm, she led her into the house and up to her own room. "What is the matter?" she asked anxiously. "Oh, Ethel! I think my heart will break," sobbed Hettie. "John has been so unkind to me that I could not stay in the house. He is going to marry a designing girl, and bring her in over my head, and he will not listen to a word I say!" Ethel began to look grave, and Hettie was not slow to divine her feeling. "How cruel you are!" she cried. "If you were in trouble, I should care for nothing except to help you." "I am quite ready to help you if you are in trouble," said Ethel; but I really cannot stay to talk about it now, for we have a large garden-party going on, and I must not be longer away. I will send you up some tea, and you can have a rest; and I will come back as soon as I can." Hettie made no answer; this was not at all the kind of reception that she had expected. She had imagined that the whole family of Cardales would cry over her, and listen unweariedly to the outpouring of her woes. But Ethel had already gone, and as there was no one to hear her grievances, she was obliged to bear them as best she could. She Ethel, for her part, was very glad to escape. knew Hettie's nature well, and she was quite prepared to find that her troubles were all of her own making. She felt that she must consult her mother before she took the responsibility of giving advice, and as soon as the guests were gone, she asked her to come and see their unexpected guest. Hettie did her best to make out a case for herself, but Mrs. Cardale felt as strongly as her daughter had done that it was she, and not her brother, who was in the wrong. "You can stay here for a few days, of course," she said; "but my husband must write to Dr. Douglas to-night; and if you take my advice, you will go home as soon as possible, and ask his forgiveness." Hettie was more angry than she had words to ex press, and though she received Mrs. Cardale's admonition in silence, she made up her mind that she would not submit to another. Ethel was obliged to go out on the next morning, but directly she returned she went to find Hettie. Her room was empty, and Ethel was just going to seek her in the garden when a piece of paper caught her eye, on which a few words were written : "I see that you do not want me here. Do not attempt to find me, for you will never succeed." Ever since John had discovered his sister's departure, he had been in a state of the utmost uneasiness. Mr. Cardale's letter had relieved his mind for a time, but the telegram that told of her disappearance realised his worst fears. There was nothing for it now but to tell Nora, though he had hoped to be able to spare her the knowledge of a fact which must be so painful to her. Many and anxious were the consultations that they held, but no clue to Hettie's hiding-place could be discovered; and as John could not possibly leave his patients, he sent Gerald up to London to pursue the search. Hettie had very little strength of purpose, but she had a great deal of obstinacy of character, which, under some circumstances, answers the same end. She engaged a room in a small house in one of the outlying districts of London, and tried her best to procure something to do. It was a long time before she was successful, for she had no idea of submitting to anything that she did not like; but at last starvation began to stare her in the face, and she was obliged to humble herself by teaching the children of a neighbouring shopkeeper. But Hettie had never been trained to work, and the daily bondage chafed her so much that she began to think whether there was any way by which she could communicate with John without sacrificing her pride; for she felt certain that he would take her back without a word if only he knew where she was. At. last she determined to write to Gerald; he would be sure to send the news to John at once, and then John would come and ask her forgiveness and take her home. She waited in a tremor of anticipation after her letter had been despatched, and when, in a few days' time, she was told by the landlady that a gentleman was in the parlour, she knew that she had not hoped in vain. But when she entered the room and saw John's grave, stern face, she suddenly began to tremble with alarm. "Hettie," he said, "Gerald has sent me the letter that you wrote to him, and I have come to tell you that I cannot receive you into my house again—at present, at any rate. I have been to see your cousin Anna to-day, and she is willing to have you with her for a time." "I shall do nothing of the kind!" exclaimed Hettie. "You are very unkind to me, John; but of course I know that it is not your doing." "You are quite mistaken. Nora tried hard to persuade me to have you home, but I cannot feel that it would be right. You must show me that you are sorry for what you have done before I can trust you again." "Very well," said Hettie; "I will stay here and earn my living; and if I kill myself over it, it will be nothing to you." "You are very unjust," said John sadly; "but we will not dispute about that. I shall continue your allowance, and if at any time you wish to write to me I shall be very glad to hear from you. Nora would not fix a day for our marriage until we knew where you were, but it will be very soon now." The first part of his speech had softened Hettie's heart, but the last words hardened it again, and she made an ungracious assent. John still lingered, trying to win her into a better frame of mind; but seeing that it was of no use, he at last took his leave, giving the landlady his address as he left the house, that she might be able to communicate with him in case of need. Whenever Hettie felt inclined to give way during the weary weeks that followed, she kept up her resolution by thinking of Nora's treachery; and even when the unwonted strain began to tell upon her, she would not allow herself to flag, till at last a day came when she could not leave her bed, and the doctor whom the frightened landlady summoned shook his head, and said that she was in for a bad attack of rheumatic fever. It was a dull December afternoon, and a thick fog filled the air, and penetrated even into the room where Hettie lay. She had been in a kind of stupor all day, only moaning piteously when anyone touched the bed, and she did not open her eyes when the door opened; but when a cool hand was laid upon her forehead, she looked up with a start of surprise. "Who is it?" she asked. "It is I, dear: your sister," said a voice that she did not recognise, for her senses were dulled with weakness and pain. She made no attempt to question further, but gave herself up to the enjoyment of being tenderly cared for. Mrs. Clay, the landlady, was very kind-hearted, but she was as rough a specimen of womanhood as could well be found, and her ministrations were agonising. Hettie soon knew who her gentle nurse was, but she felt miserable in her presence, for her shame and remorse were almost more than she could bear. 66 Nora," she said one day, "where is John?" "He has gone home, dear; he was here when you were so very ill, but you did not know him. Do you want to see him?" "I should like to ask him to forgive me. I don't wish to get well. I have behaved so badly that no one can ever love me again." Nora bent down and kissed her gently. "We all love you," she said; "and as soon as you can be moved we are going home together. I hope it will not be long now, for John is all alone." "How long have you been married?” Nearly two months." "Two months!" exclaimed Hettie; "and you have given up all this time to me? Oh, Nora! why did you do it?" "Because you are my sister," said Nora. She did not add how she had urged John to let her go in the place of the nurse that he was sending, feeling that if she missed the chance of reconciliation now, it might never come again. The sacrifice was great, but she saw how the estrangement from Hettie grieved him, and for his sake she could have endured any thing. Hettie was glad when the meeting with John was over, and she had received his kiss of pardon; her proud spirit had been subdued by all she had gone through, and her selfishness was checked by Nora's example. It was a sore trial to her to go home and meet the curious looks and comments of their friends and neighbours, but she took it meekly, as part of her punishment, and was only anxious to make amends for all her bad behaviour. Hettie has never fully recovered from the effects of her long and terrible illness; she will always be more or less of an invalid, and the old days of brilliant health and spirits are gone for ever. But she is far more happy now than she was when she lived for self alone; and she and Gerald have long since agreed that the best and kindest thing their brother ever did for them was when he gave them their sister Nora! BLIND. LIND Ignorance still gropes its painful way Whilst distant Knowledge strives to send a ray But in that hour of dangers manifold, Vast Traffic passeth with a muffled sound, |