covering her white face with her two thin hands, moaned out,

"The child, the poor little child! Am I to ruin every one that comes near me? What can I do to repay her? I cannot work; I cannot dig; and to beg I am ashamed. Oh, if some good angel would only come to my help!'

CHAPTER XVI.

STEVEN KEANE.

He strided into the room as if in answer to her cry for a good angel,' a tall muscular man, with features that were still handsome, but showing upon them lines of dissipation. His hair, coal-black and glossy, curled closely round his head; a heavy black beard concealed the weak retreating chin, which was the one positive drawback to his face, and a pair of large dark eyes, that had grown hard and callous of later years, fixed themselves on the despondent figure of his wife.

'Well, what is it all about now?' he asked, in jeering unsympathetic

accents.

Mrs. Keane dropped her hands from her face, looked up, and saw that her grief angered him.

'Steven, is it you?' she tried to say calmly, making an effort to look pleased; but, with her multitude of faults, she found it difficult to play the hypocrite.

'Crying again; always whimpering' he exclaimed, in an ironical tone, with his lips curling, and a frown crossing his forehead.

'No, oh, no! I have not shed a tear; crying does not come easy to me now.'

Steven Keane flashed another glance at her, flung his well-worn hat on the table, and dropped into the armchair that his wife had just vacated.

'So you are still moaning and groaning over this rickety old bit of lumber! Confound it, here's a needle half through my hand! What have you been doing-darning the ragged old cover? I have half a mind to pitch the wretched thing out of the window.'

She did not answer a word, but the coarseness of speech and manner seemed to shock her, for the muscles round her mouth were strained, and she walked nervously about the room, moving things backward and forward in an aimless, hopeless sort of fashion.

'Well, never mind about the needle, though it hurt me confoundedly; but I am accustomed to being hurt nowadays. Was ever a man more to be pitied than I am, I wonder? I suppose you had given up expecting to see me today?'

'No,' she faltered; and at the falsehood she winced and grew whiter. 'I have been hoping for you to come back all day.'

'And are glad to see me, of course! I want you to show your gratitude at my return by helping me with a few pounds or so. I want them and must have them; and don't know where else to go to for them but to you. You can get them, if you will.'

'A few pounds' she cried, feeling a cold shiver pass over her. 'Steven, you know I am powerless to get them!'

I know that you are a dear, kind old woman, and always manage to get me out of my scrapes. I can always trust in you when everybody else fails me.'

'But, Steven, I have not even a shilling in the world!'

'What of that? You can easily borrow.'

'Borrow! No, I cannot do that. Since we needed friends they have all dropped away.'

'But you must look them up.

I am in want-in want, do you hear?-of the money. I owe everybody, and have not a sou to bless myself.'

'But a few pounds would not be of any good to you when you owe so much.'

'No, but they would take me away from all this misery and give me a fresh start. The long and the short of it is, that I must go. There are chances in New York, and I mean to take advantage of them. It's of no use my staying here any more. You always managed better without me when beset with duns, you know.'

Mrs. Keane literally dropped into the nearest chair, simply because she felt all her strength ebb away from her. Her withered face turned as white as parchment, her lips contracted painfully. She knew that the last blow Fate had to deal her was falling upon her then.

'Steven' she gasped, after a moment, her hands involuntarily clasping together in piteous entreaty, are you going to leave me?'

'To leave you! One would think, by the highly melodramatic attitude you have assumed and your whining voice, that my leaving you would be a terrible misfortune,' he laughed mockingly. 'Why, you have told me a hundred times that you

'Oh, don't bring up old quarrels now! I cannot bear it! And, Steven, if we are to part, let us part in peace,' she exclaimed, out of the depths of her anguish. 'Remember, it may be for ever!'

'In the course of nature, I should fancy that very probable,' answered the man cruelly and coldly, the man who had sworn on his knees a thousand times that the woman before him never could grow old. 'Is there anything so heartbreaking in my going that it makes you sit

choking and writhing in that way? I recollect the time when you had more nerve and sense.'

'Can you?' she asked drearily, as one in a dream. Yes, I daresay; but I am old now, old.'

'So you own to that fact at last. Old! Why, of course you are, and dreadfully annoying as well when things don't happen to please you.'

'I never intend to be unkind or disagreeable to you, Steven; but you should make allowance sometimes. When one is very unhappy it is so hard to appear cheerful. I am so very miserable, you know.'

'No need to go over all that now. I am weary of hearing it. Do try and look less like a mummy, and leave off that gasping. There, now begin to shiver and cry. Oh, don't you know that you are too old for that sort of thing? It used to affect me wonderfully when I was in love, and you were younger; but now!'

He made a gesture of contempt with his hand, as if he desired to sweep away all pretensions she might yet have at once, and settle her down into the wretched old woman he had made of her, much more than time had done.

"How about that money?' he went on, in the accents of an injured creditor, rivalling the lodginghouse keeper herself in the imperiousness of his demand. 'I must have enough to carry me across the Atlantic.'

'But I have none!' she answered, in a burst of sharp impatience. 'How am I to get it?'

Steven Keane laughed out. It was not a pleasant laugh by any means, and it grated on the ear of his wife. Then he took a coarse handkerchief, not over white, and carefully wiped his flushed face.

'No falsehoods, please. Where did you get the sovereigns to pay the woman down-stairs with? Not a penny you possessed, and yet.

those three sovereigns were forthcoming. I could hardly keep the woman from embracing me as I came upstairs. I didn't know what she meant for a minute, but was clever enough to accept the situation, and received all her thanks for the rent. I begged her not to say another word; was glad if my promptness had relieved her from any embarrassment; spread my hands once or twice in delicate depreciation of so much gratitude, and was delighted inwardly to find out how flush you are of cash.'

'I have told you-I have told you!' she pleaded.

'Fiddlesticks! You have not left the house once, I'll warrant, and no one has been here save the violinist's child. You see, I have taken pains to inform myself. Now tell me at once where the hoard is, and I will thank you prettily.'

'I tell you I have not a shilling in the world, on my honour-not one,' replied the harassed woman. 'On your honour !'

'Steven, I will swear it upon oath, if you wish ?'

'But where did you get those three pounds?'

'I found them in the cushion of that chair!'

Steven Keane took his hat and flung it up at the low ceiling, and then he roared with laughter,-a laughter so deep and genuine that his wife smiled in spite of the anguish at her heart.

'Found it in the cushion of the chair! Caramba! this is too much; and she wishes me to believe it!'

'I know it seems strange and incredible, and the only solution of the mystery is, that the child Nell Weston placed it there,' was the answer.

'And has she got any more— that is the principal thing now?' he said, for he was too much in earnest now for continued mirth. 'I do not ask where the girl gets the money;

that is none of my business but has she got any more?'

'I don't believe she has another penny in the world; but she is very grateful, poor little creature, and sharp enough to find out how much I am in need.'

Steven Keane's laugh changed into a sneer now, for he was convinced he heard the truth, and his hopes of money were fading fast.

'And so you have to accept money from street-hawkers! Of course the noble blood we boast of does not fire up at the idea! Pride and poverty have given up fighting, hey, Mrs. Keane?'

'I never asked Nell for money, and would not have taken it if I had not wanted it so much.'

'To throw away on that woman down-stairs. Those three sovereigns would have almost taken me across the mill-pond-not with the superior accommodation such folks as you and I are entitled to, but somehow.'

'And where do you wish to go to, Steven ?'

'First to New York-where I can raise some money from old chums-then out into the country. I have bits of land there.'

'You !'

'Yes; ventures made in more prosperous days that may come into market soon. Who knows that this run of ill-luck may not last for ever? I should have sold the patches fifty times over if any. body would have bought them.'

'And you are going to America to stay to live! O Steven, take me with you! I should be glad to get away from this country-from the old, old fear that is crushing me again with its weight!

Take you with me? I will on one condition: raise enough money for me to go first, and I promise to send for you.'

'Send for me! Oh, no! You must not leave me behind! It

would kill me! Besides, how could I live?'

She began to tremble visibly before her husband's eyes. He was not naturally a hard-hearted man, and for the moment felt compassion for her.

'Don't tremble so, Adelaide. Why should you?' he asked, with a gleam of former kindness. 'I'll go first and see how the land lies. If it promises well, what do you say to a log-house on the edge of some wild prairie, or at the foot of a hill with a clear bright stream in sight?'

She listened to his words, the old worn-out woman, with kindling eyes, and as much passion in her heart as Pauline Deschappelles felt when Claude Melnotte pictured his home in such glowing fervent whispers.

'Oh, if I were but a few years younger she replied piteously. Then a log-house with you, and away from the cruel, cruel world, would be heaven!

He laughed, and going towards her, leant over her chair in an old familiar attitude which made her poor foolish heart swell and throb again. He marked the crimson of an uncontrollable emotion sweep slowly up to her white face, and letting his hand drop to her shoulder, he drew her slightly towards him.

She started up and went to the window, and he could see by the emotion of her figure that she was sobbing silently; kindness from him unnerved her now more than hard words and contempt.

'Come,' he said, 'there is nothing to grieve about. It is always anger or tears when I am with you now! Why, you are getting positively childish, Adelaide !'

'The second childhood,' she exclaimed, smiling bitterly through the falling tears.

sake?'

'For your sake, Steven, I would do anything!

She looked up into his face, her own quivering all over. Her eyes for an instant caught back a glint of youth; her features grew soft and mobile; a delicate pink crept on her cheek, and Steven Keane stooped down and kissed her.

'Then for my sake ask Bernard. I will turn over a new leaf in another country. I won't drink, nor gamble, nor swear. Don't remember the last years, Adelaide ; I have not been altogether myself. Help me this time, and you will not repent of doing so. We will make a fresh start, and build up a really happy home.'

'Oh, that we could, on a prairie, in a wilderness, no matter where, so that it was a home and our own' she murmured, reaching out her arms like a weary yearning child. In the life we are leading now, you and I have been very far apart, Steven.'

'I know it, and am sorry for it now.'

'Are you, my husband?'

'Yes; but it is never too late to mend. Help me out of this horrible country, and you will find the old nature come back to me. Will you ask Bernard ?'

'I will get the money somehow ; depend on me!'

I always could trust you to work out possibilities, and sometimes it seemed to me impossibilities. After all there are few women

like you.'

She smiled almost brightly; his praise appeared to lift ten years off her life.

'Yes, you will manage it; I see that,' he said, caressing the bands of her iron-gray hair. Who says you are growing old? Not I for one.'

'I shall go with you if I raise the money?' she asked anxiously.

'No, not with me; I will go and get a home of some sort for you, and you shall come out very soon.' 'But you will keep your word, and do this?'

'I will, so help me Heaven!' She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him with pathetic tenderness.

'I will get the money, never fear; I will get it!'

For a moment she was strained to his heart as fervently as in the first days of their marriage. Then Steven Keane snatched up his hat and hastily left the room, ashamed almost that there was so much of goodness yet left in his nature.

CHAPTER XVII.

HIDDEN TREASURES.

WHEN Steven Keane's step resounded on the stairs, his wife started up from her seat, and rushed eagerly to the door to look upon his very shadow as it passed away from her. Then she went slowly back and sank into the old armchair, and, leaning her head back, closed her eyes with a sensation of beatitude that beamed over her whole face.

me still! He does, he does!' she murmured, with deep thankfulness. 'I am not so very old after all; if it were not for fear and anxiety I should look young perhaps. Great Heavens! how beautiful, how delicious, life could be for us, if we were once away from every one save Bernard— away from the evils that tempt Steven here; away with all the fresh bright things of God around Had such a life been vouchsafed me long ago, how different I should have felt, how different I should have looked! But while there's life there's hope. Let me think. Let me dream; and above all, let me thank Him who forgives so much, and blesses us in spite of our dire ingratitude and repining.'

us!

She smiled; then sighed heavily, as though casting off a load of pain with the breath; then a smile dawned once more on her lips, and her hands, so white and thoroughbred still, clasped each other as gently as young birds creep together in one nest. She did not fall asleep, but for a full hour she sat motionless, scarcely a lash quivering on her cheek, with the feeling of a rest that was as rare as it was complete.

After a time the thought of the task lying before her broke upon her repose. She sat up then still smiling, her brain all alert, as if a stone had been rolled away from it, together with the mountain of ice that had incrusted her heart.

How should she procure the money Steven Keane desired? Not from Bernard surely; that source had been taxed heavily enough already. She could not appeal to his generosity while she knew full well that the funds he possessed were hardly earned and only sufficient for his own requirements.