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EXPIATION.

BY HENRY LORNE.

Take a seat beside me, darling, I am passing fast away!
Open first the blind a little; I would see the light of day
For the time that still is left me. We are quite alone, you say?

That will do. Now raise me up, love. So-your hand-nay, do not weep!
What is death that we should fear it? "Tis a long unbroken sleep;
The reward that those who labor and are heavy-laden reap.

Lift your head and lay it here, love; here upon my troubled breast.
There. At last I feel a moment of uninterrupted rest.

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For I know you will forgive me when I've told how it occurred-
Our estrangement-why your letter was passed by without a word-
Here it is—I've kept it by me though the writing now is blurred.

Ah, the bitter tears it cost me-that one error of my life!
Darling, when I read this letter asking me to be your wife,
God forgive me! in my bosom love and duty were at strife!

For I loved you, O, I loved you-doubt not that whate'er you doAnd could not bear to give you up who loved me, thought me trueAs I unto myself was not, for I was wronging her and you!

Yes, you start. But let me finish, then condemn me if you will:
I told her that you loved her not, and used all my woman's skill
To deceive her and supplant her, so that I her place might fill

In your heart. O, would to heaven we had never, never met!
Eyes had then been bright with gladness that are now with weeping wet.
Darling, sure you will forgive, though you never may forget?
Do you listen? I succeeded, and the meek and gentle dove
Who had won, and was so happy in your pure and early love,
Was discarded for-the vulture. Her fair spirit dwells above.

Little dream you of the passion, surging, fiery, which possessed
All my being in your presence. I have loved where 'twas not best.
I have sinned and I have suffered for it, too. You know the rest.

Yesternight I had a vision. Light celestial filled the room,
And a face appeared unto me fairer than the lily's bloom;—
Fair as faces that we picture we will see beyond the tomb;

And a voice from out the stillness whispered, "Peace, my sister, peace!
I am come, not to upbraid thee, but to give thee sweet release;
For thy prayers are heard and answered. Let thy sorrow, sister, cease!"

I remember, more than this, love, nothing save a snow-white hand
Softly waved as wooing slumber to my drooping eyelids, and
Of yielding to the influence of the angel's mute command.

In a happy, calm forgetfulness of earth and life I lay
Through all the minutes of the night and until the break of day,
And woke to find consoling words were given me to pray.

I am dying, darling, dying. Is there pardon in your heart
For such as I?-a woman who has wronged you with her art-
To join to-hers, and give me comfort ere I hence depart?

You do not speak, but yet you hold my hand that it may tell
The story of forgiveness where, perchance, your words rebel.
Think of me but as one who loved, not wisely, but too well."

66

Two hands were clasped together in a close and last embrace,
In his features death had kindly left of suffering no trace,
And a smile kept warm the marble of her now angelic face.

IF HE WANTED HER.

BY FENNO HAYES.

Liz wont be whiter, cheek nor lip, when she's dead, but she did not tremble in voice or limb as she stepped forward to speak and give her hand to the man who had kissed her as his promised wife, the last time they parted; the man who had a right to expect those same warm red lips now to greet his coming instead of that cold snowy hand. O, I thought of the silks and velvets up stairs and down stairs, everywhere but in the drawing-room almost, it seemed to me, of the diamond blazing on her white hand, and I saw Liz, false, forsworn Liz, standing between the gray old man whose gifts these all were and Allen Raleigh, and I cried out maliciously:

"O sing for us, Liz. Sing 'Auld Robin Gray.'"

And the stupid old man echoed, "Yes, my dear, sing Auld Robin Gray.""

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And one sat on one side of the piano and one on the other while she sung, the young man and the old, the old lover and the new. But for me, I sat in a corner and wept softly, while nobody minded, for I heard Liz's heart cry and sob in the song, as she sang to Allen, only to Allen and Allen's heart.

I met her in the upper hall afterwards that night, and I snatched at her hand, remorseful. "O Liz," I said, "forgive me, I didn't mean to be cruel. I've been angry all the while, but I'm only sorry now."

out into the night, and there, beneath the stars, I met Allen striding up and down the garden walks.

I say what I like always, because I'm a poor dwarfed cripple that nobody thinks it worth while to cross or quarrel with, and I went up to Allen and said:

"If I were a man and held a woman's heart, I'd take her, if I met her going to the altar with another."

My words must have chimed well with his mood, for he said, quick and sharp:

"And so would I, and so will I, if it comes to that. Now tell me, Roland, what all this is about." And he laid his hand impatiently on my shoulder, while his eyes flashed down on mine through the starlit dark.

But I liked him, this eager, impetuous young lover of Liz; liked him as I do all things warm and passionate, and I began: "Liz is to marry—”

But Allen Raleigh laid his hand in an instant significantly on my lips, and I understood, and began again.

"She was to have married this old man in a month from now. You were scarcely out of sight of land when Kate and mother began to urge it; but Liz never minded their talking any more than if it had been the wind blowing at her ear, I thought, till one day father went about with a face worn and haggard, and his eyes looking as if he hadn't

She stooped and kissed me, but she only slept for more than one night, mother was

said, more as if to herself than to me:

"How else could I have told him ?"

Then some impulse made me turn and go

crying up stairs, and if Liz had been in another world she couldn't have taken much less notice of what was going on in this.

She sat in her room all day long, by the window that looks out over the water, still and silent, with her hands clasped over her knees, and her eyes far out to sea. About nightfall she came down to the library where father was sitting, and I was reading, curled up in a window. She came in and walked straight up to father and said, 'Tell him yes, father.' A wonderful light flashed over father's face. He was about to speak, but she put up her hand as if to ward off a blow. Not a word now, father,' she said, 'tell him, that's all.' And she turned and fairly fled out of the But as she raised her hands I saw your ring was gone, and I knew then what it meant, and angry enough I was, and have been, with her ever since till to-night-till I heard her sing to you, Allen."

room.

"My poor darling," he murmured; and then I slipped away, so sure that he would save Liz somehow that I stopped at her door as I went by.

"Come in," she said; and as I entered and saw her sitting in her loose white wrapper, with her long dark hair unbound and hanging about her, I thought I had never seen her look so beautiful, though I fancied I saw traces of tears on her cheeks.

"I've just seen Allen," I said. “He will never give you up, Liz.”

She smiled, a transient, passing, but ineffable smile, the smile that only love can teach a woman's lips, I fancy, and then her face settled again into the stony resolute expression it had worn since the day I told Allen of.

"Roland," she said, "carry Allen from me this one message. If Mr. Grafton wishes me to marry him, I must and will. Remember, Roland, I must and will."

Liz has a way sometimes of shutting herself away from anybody's reach, and I've no fancy for asking questions and getting no answers, so I didn't ask why, but went down to the garden again to see if Allen were gone yet.

But he was still there, passing up and down the walks as before. The light from Liz's window shone out upon the paths, and I thought perhaps he found it sweet to be even so near her he loved, after the wide sea had lain between them so long. And then my heart sunk, thinking of the message I had for him. I sat down under the rose tree to think a little how to begin, and there Allen found me, not a bit more ready than I was at first. But I stammered it out, somehow

indeed, I don't mind saying that I half sobbed, as I told it, for I had always loved Liz dearly, and as for gray old Mr. Grafton, it frightened me to think how wicked I felt about him. While I had been sitting under the rose tree I had been imagining such a fine funeral for him, supposing he should have the accommodating goodness to die, and a fine wedding afterwards, with Liz looking like a Peri, or something of that kind, for Liz's beauty isn't of the angel sort, and Allen like a prince, supposing princes looked as royal blood ought to look.

But to my surprise Allen didn't seem to much mind this message. He repeated it carefully after me, just as Liz had said it, and then he said, "Carry her back for me only this, Roland-my undying, hopeful love." And I left him with his proud head erect, and his whole bearing little like a despairing, cast-off lover, I thought.

Well, Mr. Grafton came every day, and Allen came every day. But you would never have dreamed Allen came to see Liz. Grafton didn't, I know, for Liz's engagement to Allen had never been made public, and Grafton's eyes must have been considerably sharper than they were to see a lover in this man who appeared so politely indifferent to Liz. Strangely enough, Allen seemed to like and court Grafton's society. He would talk with him by the hour, and appeared to have a peculiar fancy for drawing Grafton out, learning his likes and dislikes. I couldn't make Allen out at all, but still I felt somehow that he hadn't given Liz up.

One day Allen and Grafton happened to be alone in the drawing room. To be sure I was there, but I was reading, and everybody knows I'm deaf and blind to everything thing else when I have a book. So I didn't mind at all what they were saying, till suddenly my attention was arrested, just as if there hadn't been a word spoken before, though, of course, they had been talking all the while, by Grafton's saying:

"Well, I don't know of but one thing that I am really afraid of, and that is an insane person. I never could take one moment's comfort afterwards with a person who had once shown any signs of insanity. I've a perfect horror about it."

I met Allen's eye just then. Was it a fancy that it flashed triumphantly?

At this moment, Liz came in and the conversation turned on something else. I went back to my book and heard no more, till late

in the afternoon Allen came and leaned carelessly over my shoulder, as if to see what I was so absorbed in, and a little note dropped from his hand between the leaves of my book. He turned the page quickly, saying laughingly:

spoken of-Allen's glance at that momentthe note to Liz-and now this.

What if there were method in Liz's madness? She was capable of carrying out a part like this, for Liz is no milk-and-water girl that one can twist round one's finger. I had long

"Allow me, your hand must be tired. How ago come to the conclusion that father was many pages to-day, Roland ?"

Of course the note was for Liz, and you may be sure it was properly delivered. But nothing came of it, as I could see, and the days were going frightfully fast. Was it the consciousness of this that made Liz so strange, and abrupt, and fitful in her speech and manner? What made her voice and laugh so loud? Well, Liz was proud, but if she was trying to keep up appearances, I thought she was rather overdoing it. I fancied, too, that Mr. Grafton regarded her a little uneasily sometimes, when she appeared so very gay with no apparent reason.

There came a wild stormy morning, the wind blowing almost a gale, and the rain driving across the fields in sheets. I happened to be looking from an upper window, when, to my astonishment, Tom led Liz's horse round to the door, and at the moment I heard Liz going down the stairs.

"Why, my dear,” I heard Mr. Grafton say, in a shocked voice," where are you going?" Liz laughed a wild, loud, shrill laugh.

"Your lady rides abroad this morning," she said, passing him rapidly and laughing again.

And, a moment after, I looked down upon a curious scene. Liz, arrayed in one of the dresses sacred to Mr. Grafton's bride, with fluttering ribbons and a dress hat upon her head, rode away at a furious gallop through the pouring rain, looking back as she went and gayly waving her hand to the bewildered and distressed looking old man who gazed after her in blank dismay, while Tom walked to the stables, gravely shaking his honest head.

What did it mean? Was Liz crazy? What should we do? Father was away for a few days, mother had one of her nervous headaches, and Mr. Grafton had said he had a perfect horror of an insane person.

Suddenly, as I remembered this, a little chain of circumstances ran through my mind. I seemed to hear Allen again, repeating after me, with strange emphasis, Liz's message "If Mr. Grafton wishes me to marry him”. Allen's watch and intimacy with Graftonthe expression of Grafton's dislike, before

in some way at Grafton's mercy, and Liz was the appeasing sacrifice. Now if Grafton refused her after she had accepted him, could he find any fault? Well, at any rate, I resolved to keep still at present, and wait for further developments.

I went down stairs, thinking I'd like to see if Grafton's face had regained its customary smooth urbane expression. He usually took little notice of me, for I had taken small pains to conceal my dislike of him, but he came hurriedly forward to meet me now.

*

"Your father is away, Roland ?" he said, as an introductory inquiry.

"Yes sir," I said, "to be gone till Wednesday."

"Ah," he said, uneasily. "Where is Mrs. Lane ?"

"Not up yet, I think," said I. "Mother has one of her bad days."

He must speak to somebody, so now he broke out to me:

"Roland, your sister has gone to ride this wild morning. What can possess her?"

"O, I don't know," I answered, rather carelessly. "Liz always was rather peculiar.” "I don't know what you call peculiar," he said, sharply, “ but it seems to me more like a mad person than anything else, for a girl to go riding away at breakneck speed, through a rain like this, in a dress as fantastic as her notion."

"O," I said, again, "I never pretend to be surprised at anything Liz does. It runs in our family to be odd. I wouldn't advise you to cross her much, though, because-" And then I stopped, as if I had said more than I intended.

"Because why ?" said Grafton, imperiously, almost fiercely.

"O nothing, nothing," I said, turning away, and finding myself a book, I pretended to be as absorbed as usual.

But I was watching Grafton all the while and I saw the big drops of sweat standing on his forehead as he walked up and down the room, waiting his wild lady-love's return. But when she came he did not go out to meet her, only peering furtively at her from behind a blind as she dismounted, and then resum

ing his pacing of the floor. After a little, Allen came in, and, as usual, my book was considered to make me a nobody, if, indeed, Grafton had not entirely forgotten me, in his agitation.

"Mr. Raleigh," said Grafton, shortly, hesitating a little, but with a subdued, repressed eagerness, "do you know anything of the Lane family-Miss Lane's relatives or ancestors ?"

66 Somewhat," ," said Allen, with a surprised, inquiring air, as if he wondered what Grafton was driving at.

"Well, do you know-have you ever heard -that there was any peculiarity in the family, any taint of-well, of insanity, in short ?"

"They are all people of extreme nervous susceptibility-the Lanes," said Allen, "excitable, and fond of out-of-the-way adventures, but I do not know that I ever heard of any one's being insane. Stay, now I think of it, Miss Lane has an uncle incurably insane in the asylum at S."

O Allen! Mother's sister's husband! "But why do you ask regarding this matter?" said Allen, in conclusion. "You seem agitated, Mr. Grafton. Has anything happened ?"

Grafton made a sickly attempt to smile.

"No, Mr. Raleigh," he said, "nothing has happened. I have a curiosity about family traits, always." And with this rather lame excuse, Grafton soon departed, not completely at his ease, I imagined.

But evening found him again at the house, and I thought Liz and her gray lover had changed characters. She had always before been so coy of his near approach, shrinking away from his look and touch. But that night he it was who seemed to dread having her near him, only watching her closely and suspiciously at as great distance as possible. Liz

appeared pretty much as usual, with the exception of rather haunting Grafton and an occasional burst of sudden gayety.

What helped the farce much was that Liz's manner towards Grafton had always been a little strange, from the circumstances, and she was, besides, a really original, independent character. He knew nothing, of course, of Allen's communication to Liz of his weak spot, and the idea once in his mind, "trifles, light as air," seemed "confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ." I watched him closely that evening, and I came to the conclusion that, whatever Grafton had once designed, he would never again want Liz for a wife.

And, sure enough, father wasn't home an hour, before Grafton waited on him and withdrew his suit. I have a faculty for overhearing, perhaps you've noticed, but I wont deny that I helped my capacity on this occasion by laying my ear to a convenient keyhole.

What I heard is of no consequence excepting this:

"Mr. Lane," said Grafton, "business is business, and a bargain a bargain. I offered you this bit of paper with my autograph upon it, written, however, by you, for your daughter's hand. You accepted. That I do not take the article, having reconsidered, for reasons I need not state, is no fault of yours. Here is your price."

I turned my eye, instead of my ear, to the keyhole just in time to catch the gleam of the burnt note as it blazed in the grate where father tossed it. Poor father! If he would only let those accursed stocks and speculations alone!

Well, that was the end of Grafton at our house, and I didn't mind missing his funeral so long as he let Liz alone, but for the wedding, Liz did look like a houri and Allen like a prince royal, I will say.

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