wretch. I don't know what provision God makes for such demons hereafter; I don't care to think what can become of them. I hope there will never be such another creature on earth as Dad Hylow. What do you think he told me one minute before he died? -God forgive him, if there be any such thing as forgiveness for such as he-but he told me that he came to the switch that night, meaning to wait till I had switched off the up-freight early in the morning, and then tie and gag me, switch the lightning express into the freight, and in the dreadful confusion of death, and mangling, and destruction, to rob the passengers. May God in his infinite mercy forgive him!

But enough of him. I was back at Perham quarry as soon as I could get relieved for a day; and the story I told the directors of the company satisfied them entirely about Mr. Brayley's innocence. He was back in his old place at the office two days after, about as well as ever, and the roses soon came back to the face of Mrs. Thorpe. They want me with them, and insist that I shall come back to the quarry and take the place of watchman. After all that has happened I feel toward them much as though they were my own kin; and if I'm alive at the end of the month they'll most likely have their own way about it.

CHAPTER I.

A YOUNG girl ran up the broad stairway to Nan's room, her hands full of fragrant white daffodils.

"I'm coming right in, dear," she called out. "I have something sweet here to make you wake up."

"I'm not asleep," said Nan, reaching for. the flowers. But the daylight was shut out of the room by yellow damask curtains, and Nan Van Lew herself lay among soft pillows on the sofa, still in her pretty embroidered camisole, her hair half unbound, with last night's puffs and powder not yet brushed out of it.

"It is like a dream-palace in here!" exclaimed her Cousin Gertie. "You don't know how bright the sun is outside, and, only think, I found these daffodils blooming out in that mite of a grass plot behind the house. It does seem so good to see a flower growing in the city. You dear, dear little white daffodils!"

"Put them in the vase, Gertie, do," said Nan, twining her pretty hands above her head, as if she were tired of everything. "Did you see the splendid bouquet I brought from the party last night? Look at it, if you want to; it's somewhere there on the dressing-table."

"O Nan, who gave it to you ?" asked Gertie, caressing the camellias and rosebuds, admiringly.

"I'm sure I don't want to remember!" said Nan, wearily. "I believe it was Captain Darrell; he was the first gentleman I met as I came from the dressing-room."

"Who danced with you, Nan? and how many times did you dance? Do tell me all about it," pleaded Gertie, with the enthusiastic curiosity of sixteen.

"Reach me my card of engagements then," said Nan, rousing a little; "there it is tied up with white ribbon. Well, first was the Portland Fancy, and that I danced with Captain Darrell, of course. I couldn't do less, because of the bouquet. He's such an indolent, handsome, flattering fellow, I'm sure I hope he don't mean half he says. Before I hardly knew it. I had promised him at least two dances at Mrs. Bocage's party to-morrow evening. And that's such a bore, to be engaged beforehand. It makes it look so marked, just the thing I want to avoid. What's the next on the card, Gertie ?" "Galop quadrille," said Gertie, all eager interest. 66 These pencil marks are blurred so I can't read them, but it looks like Mr. Dimock's name."

"Just so," replied Nan, half smiling; "you have seen him here to dinner. He's fifty years old, and quite fine-looking, you know, besides the charm his fortune gives him. He is rather stout, but I believe he dances all the better for it. He took me down to supper, too, and saw that I had plenty to eat,

which is more than half of them do. One gets hungry dancing till midnight, Gertie." "The next was the Caledonian," said Gertie, studying the card.

"O yes, that I danced with young Roberts, a duty dance, because he was son of the hostess. And isn't the next a polka redowa? Harry Meade was my partner in that, and, Gertie, he's perfectly lovely in the redowa. I'd rather dance it with him than any one I know, except, of course, dear old Phil, if he were here. O dear!"

"O Nan," said Gertie, quickly, "did you see any of his family? did they say anything about him ?"

"Yes, his two sisters were there, Rosy and Maud. How Maud Stevens does flirt! I couldn't get near her, but Rosy and I had a little talk in the corner, and she says they haven't heard one word from Phil yet, and they are afraid something dreadful has happened. Only think, Gertie, four long months, and they used to hear by every steamer. course, I don't want to show how much I care, and I know Rosy thinks I'm heartless, for right in the midst of our conversation up came Captain Darrell for a waltz I had promised him, and I had to smile and be as gay as possible, and go whirling off in his arms.”

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"O Nan, I am so sorry. How hard it is!" murmured Gertie, who was the most sympathetic of confidantes.

"Ah, but that isn't the worst of it," said Nan, with a darkening face. "Uncle had me in the library yesterday for a full hour, while you were out walking, and told me pretty plainly that all he invited you and me here to live for, was to get us well settled in life. As I am oldest, I must go first, and he scolded well because I had let the winter pass without being engaged. Of course, he wasn't really wrathful and threatening; you know the odd joking way he has of putting everything; but there was a determined look in his eyes that made me feel he was in earnest beneath it all. He says if I don't choose some one else in less than a month he will tell Mr. Dimock he may have me and welcome. He likes Mr. Dimock, you know, thinks he's such a substantial man, and so forth. I don't know what to do, Gertie. I'm half worried to death. If I could only hear from Phil! But there, there's no use fretting; perhaps he is a flirt, and don't care a pin for me."

"O Nan," said Gertie, impulsively, "don't ever feel that way. Phil will come back, and you will marry him, and it will all come right."

Nan smiled a little wearily. "You're just at schoolgirl age, Gertie, and all the romances you read "come right" in the end. If I were a three-volumed novel I should expect to go through everything and end in happiness. But real living along from day to day is a different thing. I hate myself for lying here in this nerveless way. If I get up and dress, Gertie, will you go to walk with me? I wish we could walk, and walk, and keep on walking till we got to California, or somewhere!" "If shoes only wouldn't wear out," said Gertie, looking at the roughened toe of her boot. "I'll tell you where we'll go, Nan; let's go to the greenhouse, and look at all the plants and flowers. You don't know how polite the gardener is, and it is such a lovely place. I want to buy some pausy roots, too, and it will be such a good opportunity."

"Very well," replied Nan, springing up, "I will go, and have a quiet morning, and forget all about Uncle Ben and Mr. Dimock. I mean to forget everything for once, and make believe it is all coming right. I'll be ready in ten minutes, Gertie; run and get on your hat."

In half an hour more Nan Van Lew, in her dainty walking suit, with her brighteyed young Cousin Gertie, went leisurely along the main street, enjoying the fresh spring air, and the budding beauty of the trees, which were just beginning to show their tender green leaves.

A tall elegant gentleman passing down the other side of the street raised his hat to Nan. "Who is it, Nan ?" asked Gertie. "He is very handsome, but I don't like his looks exactly. He don't look as if he would be in earnest about anything."

"Maybe not. That's Captain Darrell, Gertie. But here, isn't this the turn we take to reach your greenhouse ?"

"Yes, it's just around the other corner," said Gertie, taking the lead now. "There, we are just coming in sight of it. Just see all those terraces on the side hill, and imagine how beautiful they will be next summer

one brilliant blazing mass of flowers! I know just where the ribbon beds are to be, and where all the different colors of philoxes will be set. Those mounds are full of gladiolus bulbs. Wot they be splendid in July and August, Nan? Mr. Wray told me just how he had grouped them, when I was here last time."

"Is Mr. Wray the gardener ?" asked Nan,

smiling. "You and he seem to be excellent friends, Gertie."

"O, he is very kind to me," said Gertie, frankly; "and he seems like people I used to know at home, before I came to live with uncle. All our friends earned their own living one way or another, and they seemed straightforward and honest, just as Mr. Wray does. When uncle's visitors come they make me feel awkward and frightened, but people like Mr. Wray put me perfectly at my ease." "Spoken like a champion, Gertie!" said Nan. "But here we are at the gate. Is that your Mr. Wray there in his shirt sleeves, digging holes in the ground?"

"Yes; he always does the transplanting," answered Gertie. "Let's go along up the path, and I will speak to him."

The young man looked up from his work as they approached, and greeted them with a pleasant "good-morning, ladies." He was a young Scotchman, with a shrewd, kindly face, who made a science of his business, and loved his flowers as if they were friends. Gertie's enthusiasm for his greenhouse pets had made him better acquainted with her than with his customers generally.

"May I take my cousin all around the greenhouse, Mr. Wray?" asked Gertie. "I want to show her your beautiful plants, and I want to get two or three roots of pansies, to blossom till summer in my room. I can't have any place for a garden, you know, but they will live in the window, wont they, if I put them in great boxes of earth ?"

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"O yes," replied the gardener, "only you must not give them too much heat, nor pet them too much. I will give you a plenty of rich soil around the roots. I have them here in a hotbed, and you can take your choice."

"O! O!" exclaimed Nan and Gertie, both in delight, as he led them to the corner where the pansies were, and lifted the glass frame from over them. They were in full bloom, great beautiful things looking right up in the face of the sun, of every shade and tint, from the deepest purple-black, through all the varieties of bronze and golden, royal purple, blue and lavender, down to pearly-white. "Only ten cents apiece," said Gertie, congratulating herself that she had half a dollar in her purse. 'I can take five. Come, Nan, help me choose them."

They were quickly chosen and set aside, a black one, a golden one, a brilliant purple with a yellow eye, a white one, and one of rosy lilac.

"You have the choicest varieties there," said Mr. Wray. "I will bring them to your house this afternoon. They are too heavy for you to carry now."

"O, and then perhaps you will show me how to set them out!" exclaimed Gertie, well pleased, while Nan arched her eyebrows and scanned the young gardener with a quizzical air, as if to see and ridicule any advantage he might take of Gertie's familiarity.

He colored very slightly, not at Gertie's words, but at Nan's look, and turning aside opened the greenhouse door for them to enter.

.Nau's mood changed when she entered there, among the rows upon rows of flourishing plants, most of them in bloom, fragrant and beautiful. The great pure calla lilies, the spicy carnations, the brilliant varieties of geraniums, the primroses, and fuchsias, and lovely monthly roses-they could not fail to reach a warm corner in her heart, which was really a true womanly one, when fashion was not playing pranks with it.

"How much better it is, after all," she thought to herself, "to have one's business among plants and flowers, and to be constantly with them, than to live in barracks, and go on dress parade, like that flirting Captain Darrell, or to be always thinking of bales of cotton and dry goods, like Uncle Ben and Mr. Dimock, or to be forever changing and fickle, like Harry Meade."

And then with a sigh she thought of Phil Stevens. He was always manly and ambitious; he was an engineer, and trained his thoughts to grapple with rocks, and mountain ranges, and river beds. There was something in that that seemed splendid to Nan, but she did not dare to think long about it, he was so far away. He might be dead now, for no one heard from him, at all. There was terrible suspense and pain in thinking of Phil Stevens now.

"What beautiful new flowers these are!" she exclaimed, suddenly turning her thoughts to the broad shelf of plants before her.

"They look like bushes of pink and rosecolored pansies," said Gertie. "See, they have just the pansy marking, just that bright air, as if they were faces looking at you. But the green leaf is like a geranium. Is it a geranium, Mr. Wray."

"I really think I must have one," said Nan. "I don't care much for flowers usually, but these take my fancy. Now, here is one I like very much; the flower is not so very large, but it is a beauty!"

"That is the Duchess of Devon," said the gardener; "it is fragrant, too, and the only sweet-scented pelargonium that we have."

And he pinched off a leaf for Gertie, that she might get the perfume.

"Just think how geraniums blossom," said Nan; "pretty nearly all the year round. And I suppose these do the same. I should like this Duchess of Devon, Mr. Wray."

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"I must not mislead you," he said, smiling; they are related to the geraniums, but they do not bloom so freely. This plant will go on blooming now for a season, till June, maybe, but then the blossoms will stop altogether, and it will simply rest and grow till the year comes round to another spring."

"I don't know as I mind that," said Nan, pleasantly. "It is a way we all have. No one can be blooming and beautiful the whole time, year in and year out. I sympathize with the Duchess of Devon. I will take it, Mr. Wray."

"Shall I bring it to you with the pansies?" "O no. I want to take it myself; the pot is not very large. I can carry it easily, you see, and now it is mine, I want it at once."

And she took her unwonted burden into her hands.

"I almost wish I could carry my pansies, too," said Gertie, impulsively. "But you'll bring them up soon, wont you, Mr. Wray, and show me how to set them out?"

"Yes, indeed, I will," he answered in a prompt friendly manner, that made Nan think again with some amusement, how good friends her cousin and the young Scotch gardener seemed to be.

"Who would have thought of my going out and buying a pelargonium this morning?" laughed Nan, gayly, as they walked along the street homeward. "I never knew there was such a plant in existence before. But it is lovely, and I mean to get a great deal of good from it. It will be a relief from constant dress-making, and party-going, and husbandhunting, and bitter vanities, to watch these little buds come and grow into blossoms. I mean to give myself a vacation from worldliness while the pelargonium blossoms, and I realize more now, Gertie, how you feel about your daffodils. I shouldn't wonder if flowers were little angels !"

CHAPTER II.

"WHAT'S all this? What's all this ?" exclaimed Mr. Benjamin Van Lew, coming noisily into the library, where Nan stood. "Who rang the door-bell and came in a few minutes ago?"

"It was the gardener from the greenhouse, uncle," said Nan; "he brought some flowerroots for Gertie, and I believe he is in the dining-room now setting them out for her in those big green boxes she is always carrying from one sunny window to another. I have bought a plant, too, Uncle Ben. Look at it, and see how pretty it is."

"Flowers wont clothe you, flowers wont feed you," grumbled Mr. Van Lew, coming nearer. "What is it, a dandelion ?"

"A Duchess of Devon pelargonium, uncle," said Nan, laughing. "You don't appreciate it; see how full of blossoms it is."

"Flowers fade, they all fade," said her uncle, testily; "it don't blossom forever, does it ?"

"O no; it has only its little season," said Nan, lightly, "and I'm going to have mine, too, uncle. I've just made up my mind about it, and I've set myself a boundary. As long as this plant keeps on blossoming I'm going to be just as free and happy as I can, and not think anything about settlements, or husbands, or any such things. If any one proposes to me in the time, I'll reject him without a moment's hesitation, no matter who he is! There, that's my declaration of independence, uncle; and you'll let me have my way about it, wont you ?" she added, coaxingly.

"It is a singular proposition-a most singular proposition," said her uncle, looking rather nonplussed. "Pray how long will the thing blossom, Miss Nan ?"

"Only till June or thereabouts," said Nan, with a little pathetic quaver in her voice; "it is not a long respite, uncle. Please not talk to me about marriage any more till then."

Her uncle's face suddenly cleared of its perplexity.

"I will agree to this extraordinary proposal, Nan, if you on your part will agree to mine, that is, if you will promise to accept the first offer of marriage made to you after the last bud has blossomed."

And he thought to himself that he would take good care from whom that offer should come. Mr. Dimock should not want for a friendly hint at the right moment.

Nan hesitated, but a sort of desperation

urged her to make the promise. It could not be worse then than now, she thought, and in this time between, this golden interval of freedom, some great good fortune might happen to her, something might come in to save her.

"Very well, Uncle Ben," she said, at length, dreamily, as if her heart was looking into the future, "I will take my few months, and have all the peace I can in them; then, when the last blossom comes on the pelargonium, I will take your advice. I will do as you wish." But in her heart she hoped that when the time came it would find him gentler.

So the quaint compact was made, and Nan tried to dismiss care and to take heart of hope. It seemed such a long time before summer, before the pelargonium would cease blooming. If Phil Stevens were alive, they would certainly hear from him in that time, she thought.

Meanwhile, the young Scotch gardener in the dining-room was setting out the pansies for Gertie, and giving her curious bits of information about the flowers he had seen in other countries.

"He'll be sending in a bill for lessons in botany, confound him!” muttered Uncle Ben, as he passed the open door.

But Mr. Wray did not stay long after his work was done; and Gertie was soon calling Nan to see how beautiful and glowing her pansies were in their new bed in the sunny window.

A week later Nan and Gertie were arranging themselves for the last "sociable" of the season. There had been a set of these sociables, lasting through the entire winter, held first at one house and then another, and this final one, with her uncle's consent, Nan had reserved for herself to give. So, as it was to be in the house, Gertie was to join in it too, though her time for parties had not regularly come.

Nan was sitting in a lovely fauteuil before the mirror, having her hair dressed, when Gertie came softly in with two elegant bouquets, and laid one in her cousin's hands.

"O,how exquisite!" exclaimed Nan. "But, Gertie, who sent them? If it was Captain Darrell or Mr. Dimock, I wont carry one of the flowers. I'm free to do as I please about such things now. Tell me quick, Gertie, before I set my heart on these rosebuds."

"O, you needn't refuse them," said Gertie, good-naturedly. "Mr. Wray sent them. I went down to the greenhouse to get some

geranium leaves and smilax, and when he found it was for a party, he cut me these two beautiful bouquets. Wasn't he kind ?"

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"Very kind," said Nan, dryly; now make haste, and get your hair curled, Gertie. It is almost time for our guests to come. I heard the bell ring just now."

A pleasant voice came through the chamber door, which stood ajar, and startled them. A bright young face, with golden hair wreathed with forget-me-nots, peeped in.

"Why, Rose Stevens!" exclaimed Nan. "Where did you come from?”

"O, I came early," laughed Rose," so as to have papa's escort. I thought you wouldn't mind letting me in now. Maud is at home with a headache; she can't come."

"Have you heard anything from your brother yet, Miss Rose ?" asked Gertie, who was leaving the room, but stopped in the kindness of her heart to put this question, because she knew Nan must want to know, and yet might shrink from asking.

"Not a word," said Rose, shaking her head sadly. "Isn't it strange? In November he was in Sacramento, and wrote so cheerfully about his prospects, and how he expected an appointment in the new railroad survey among the mountains. And not a word have we heard since."

Nan's hand shook among her flowers, but she made no remark. How could she show all her feelings, even to Rose, since there had been no real engagement between her and Phil? nothing more than what some people might call a flirtation, only to the actors it had been too sweet, too intense for that. And then at the last, with such a look in his eyes of love suppressed, Phil had come for a sudden good-by, and said he must go out into the world and win a fortune, and prove himself a man, before he could ask for the gift he most desired on earth. But people did not know that; they did not know any reason why Nan's heart should beat faster at the mere mention of his name.

The sociable was a success that night, the gayest and best of the season, everybody said, and Nan did the honors like a little queen. There was an airy grace and freedom about her that distinguished her more than usual, and the guests felt it.

"Confound it all!" thought Captain Darrell, stroking his mustache. "I don't feel half so sure of her liking me, as I did at Mrs. Roberts's party. I wonder if Dimock is coming in ahead of me, after all!"