loved, Philippe de Mortemar, and she was sure in her own mind also that he cared for her, but that he would not speak on account of his poverty. A glow of passionate feeling swept over her when she thought of that, and she rushed off to a friend's and wrote a letter to him. It was not easy to write without saying more than she wished to say, and yet at the same time to give him a certain amount of encouragement-that is an ugly word to use, but it is the only one that suits the situation but at last it was done, and despatched to De Mortemar. Philippe de Mortemar received the letter; and by the intuition love gives us he surmised what was in it, or very nearly so. Had he not known of her affection before, Margaret's evident emotion would have betrayed her; and he was at any rate certain that this letter had some reference to the interview which he would fain have blotted from his memory for ever. So he would spare her and not read it, and he kissed it gently, and then laid it down unopened as tenderly as if it had been a living thing. Then he had another visitor. Tom Smithson arrived at Philippe's rooms just after De Mortemar had received Margaret's letter, and was wondering where he would seek the peace that had been denied him in Mayford. is as good as engaged to me, and report says that you are surreptitiously winning her affections, and that, knowing her father's wealth, you would win her for yourself. That is all, and I must say "Stop!" thundered De Mortemar. "You have said enough-some people might think you had said too much. Can you fence?" "Yes, a little." "A little," said De Mortemar. "That is enough." He stretched his hand out to the mantelpiece, over which hung a pair of foils, and took them down. "Do me the favour to exchange a few passes with me." "What do you mean, Monsieur?" said Tom, bewildered; "you are surely not going to fight with those things-with the buttons on, too." "Fight, bah!" cried De Mortemar scornfully. "I am only going to ask you to exchange a few passes with me, as I said, as if we were fighting.” "You are trifling with me," returned Tom sulkily, "and I am in earnest, Monsieur." "On the word of a gentleman I am not," said De Mortemar. "Cross swords with me, as if we were fighting a duel, and I pledge you my word I will afterwards be as earnest as yourself." Tom did so, and in a moment they were actively engaged, each man striving as in a real combat. It was soon over. Tom did his best, but he was The Frenchman received him with all possible no match for his antagonist, who was evidently a courtesy, and bade him be seated. "No, Monsieur," said Tom, "I won't sit down; I think I can talk better standing, for I've something to say that won't be pleasant." most accomplished swordsman, and after a few passes he found the foil whirled out of his hands; and De Mortemar, lightly touching him with the button of his own weapon on the breast, "To you, or to me, Monsieur?" said De Mor- threw his own blade down also and stood facing temar quickly, on his guard in an instant. "For the matter of that, to both of us," said Tom doggedly. He did not at all like his errand, but was determined to go through with it. "That is a pity-for both of us," said Philippe ; "but I am at your service, Mr. Smithson-what is it about?" "It is about Miss Plowden." "About Margaret!" said the other, betrayed by his astonishment into the use of her Christian name. "I said about Miss Plowden," returned Smithson drily, "and your use of her name in that way confirms me in the suspicions I have to communicate." "I am listening," said De Mortemar quietly; but there was a steely glint in his eye and a flush on his cheek that might have warned Tom that he was venturing on dangerous ground. "This is my business, M. de Mortemar; to come to the point at once. You are too intimate -much too intimate-with Miss Plowden." "Well, sir, and what then?" "What then?" said Tom, becoming indignant. "Then I have a right to complain. Miss Plowden him. "Now, sir," said De Mortemar, "do me the favour to say what would have happened had we been really fighting-had that been a combat à outrance." "Egad! I suppose you would have killed me," said Tom, looking puzzled, and not too well pleased at his swift and total defeat. And now, be good "Just so," returned De Mortemar. sir, as I listened patiently to you just now, enough to listen to me. When your ancestors were scrubbing floors, or tilling fields, mine went forth from palaces as the ambassadors of mighty States, and led the armies of France. When you were a lad at school I lounged in the antechambers of Versailles, and witnessed the pageantry of a Court; my manhood was made illustrious by the friendship of great statesmen and a seat at the council-board of a king. Thus, then, I should degrade the name I bear by meeting you, save that you wear a uniform; but, by Heaven, if we stood on French soil I would fling my glove in your face in return for the insult you have offered me, and then when we took sword in hand I should-as was proved by the passes we exchanged just now--have written my answer on your heart in justice to your affection for her, no word of love in blood, and laid you lifeless at my feet." for her has ever passed my lips." letter-I do not intend to read it. Now do you understand me? Can you trust me?" "I can, implicitly," said Tom warmly, honest enthusiasm for the Frenchman's true nobility of heart shining in his eyes; "and I am sorry I ever doubted you." Then the two men shook hands, and Smithson went away. Shortly afterwards De Mortemar heard horses' hoofs outside, and then the Plowdens' servant asking for the book he had promised to lend to his young lady. He went out, and, looking steadily at Margaret, said, "Will you not honour me by coming in for a moment? I have something to say to you." She dismounted, and they went into the house. Margaret could hardly control her agitation. Had he received her letter? and if so what was his answer, or would he think evil of her for writing it? He was very grave as they entered his room, and she could not tell from his face whether he had read the letter or not. then she said quietly, "If that were a fairy story, the flower would have had a heart." "And if it had," he answered, "it would have been grateful in after years for my friend's decision, for he did what doubtless cost him a struggle, because he felt himself bound by his honour!" Margaret Plowden understood the allegory, and, not daring to look at him, said, "Then you are going away?" "I am," he answered. "This is farewell!" And stooping down he took her unresisting hand in his own, and kissed it. Just then steps were heard outside, and Tom Smithson burst into the room. "I heard you were here," he said, looking at Margaret; and then, turning to De Mortemar, added wrathfully, "So this is the reward of my trust!" De Mortemar looked at him scornfully. "It is. I was bidding adieu to Miss Plowden when you came in, and I do so again." And once more he took her hand, and pressed it reverently to his lips. "Now may I entrust her to your care?" and as he said that, De Mortemar placed Margaret's almost pulseless hand in Smithson's, and "Will you sit down a minute, Miss Plowden. I want to tell you a little incident in the past history of a friend of mine." "Certainly," said Margaret, wondering what they stood looking at him. revelation was to come. "My friend, in that fair land which I shall never see again," said De Mortemar, "cherished a rare and precious flower. He lavished upon it all the affection you might bestow on a human being, but in the end it died. I need not say how he grieved for it, but years afterwards when he came to this country he saw one who possessed, or was shortly about to possess, such a flower as he had tended in other days. My friend would fain have had that rare flower also, but he reflected that he had been so fortunate as to possess one in the time of his youth, that he was not now so skilful in the tendance of such a blossom as he had been in other years, and that it might wither in his hands." He paused, and then added, "So he left it to his rival." "I have only one thing more to do," he continued. "This letter- -" and he took it up. Margaret Plowden saw that it had never been opened, and marvelled alike at his insight and his generosity. But was he going to read it now? The thought was agony. She rushed forward. "Have I Mademoiselle's permission to smoke?" said De Mortemar, very calmly, as both his hearer stared in wonder at the question. 66 Yes, yes. But what are you going to do with that letter?" De Mortemar took a match out of a box that was lying on the table, struck it, and set fire to the letter. As it slowly burned away he applied it to the little roll of paper and tobacco which he held in his hand, and said with a grave smile"Mademoiselle has given me permission to smoke. Margaret was silent for a few moments, and I am going to light-my cigarette !" SONGS OF THE SICK ROOM. [By H. S. LEIGH.] COD-LIVER OIL. N the bleak shore of Norway, I've lately Now, I don't mind a powder, a pill, or a been told, Large numbers of cod-fish are found, And the animals' livers are afterwards sold draught Though I mingle the former with jam- But then I envelop my pills in tinfoil, They brought to my couch (I had not slept a wink, | After slowly perusing these words once or twice, For brooding all night on my ills) A neat-looking bottle of something to drink, And a neat-looking box full of pills. A neat-looking label attracted my sight, The neck of the bottle adorning, Saying, "Please to take two of the pills every night And a sixth of the draught in the morning." In a deeply contemplative way, I exclaim'd, what a volume of useful advice My friends, though to-day may seem cloudless Neglect not to-morrow's dark warning; So haste thee, haste thee, timid one. Drink, Thou wouldst spurn the oft-repeated call: Drink, pretty creature, drink! pretty creature, drink! I tell thee, if these azure veins could boast the While I watch'd thy patient struggles, and regal wine imagined thou wert coy, Of Tudors or Plantagenets, the draught should 'Twas thy tail, and not thy features, that refused still be thine! the proffer'd joy. Though round the goblet's beaded brim plebeian I will but turn thee tenderly-nay, never, never bubbles wink, shrink "Twill cheer and not inebriate. Drink, pretty Now, once again the banquet calls: Drink, pretty creature, drink! creature, drink! A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. E had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, to which we had ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we had caught no glimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from the summit. I became aware of a loud and gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buffaloes upon an American prairie; and at the same moment I perceived that what seamen term the chopping character of the ocean beneath us was rapidly changing into a current, which set to the eastward. Suddenly this whirling movement assumed a distinct and definite existence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; but no particle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds an appalling voice -half shriek, half roar-such as not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to heaven. 66 You have had a good look at the whirl now," said the old man; "and if you will creep round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and deaden the roar of the water, I will tell you a story that will convince you I ought to know something of the Moskoe-strom." I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded :"Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged smack, of about seventy tons. burden, with which we were in the habit of fishing among the islands beyond Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all violent eddies at sea, there is good fishing at proper opportunities, if one has only the courage to attempt it; but among the whole of the Lofoden coastmen, we three were the only ones who made a regular business of going out to the islands, as I tell you. "It is now within a few days of three years since what I am going to tell you occurred. It was on the 10th day of July, 18-, a day which the people of this part of the world will never forget, for it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed until late in the afternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze from the south-west, while the sun shone brightly, so that the oldest seaman among us could not have foreseen what was to follow. "The three of us-my two brothers and myself had crossed over to the islands about two o'clock p.m., and had soon nearly loaded the smack with fine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plentiful that day than we had ever known them. It was just seven by my watch when we weighed and started for home, so as to make the worst of the Strom at slack water, which we knew would be at eight. 66 Such a hurricane as then blew it is a folly to attempt describing. The oldest seaman in Norway never experienced anything like it. We had let our sails go by the run before it clearly took us; but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board as if they had been sawn off-the mainmast taking with it my youngest brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety. "Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon water. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near the bow; and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten down when about to cross the Strom, by way of precaution against the chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should have foundered at once, for we lay entirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escaped destruction I cannot say. For my part, as soon as I had let the foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet against the narrow gunwale of the bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of the foremast. It was mere instinct that prompted me to do this-which was undoubtedly the very best thing I could have done-for I was too much flurried to think. "For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all this time I held my breath and clung to the bolt. When I could stand it no longer, I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water, and thus rid herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was now trying to get better of the stupor that had come over me, and to collect my senses so as to see what was to be done, when I felt somebody grasp my arm. It was my elder brother, and my leaped for joy, for I had made sure that he was overboard; but the next moment all this joy was heart |