cushions, lay a young lad, and it was to this couch that Olive made her way.

Well, Diogenes, old boy, you have had an early visitor?"

The boy turned his head with a bright smile of welcome. His face was a remarkably sweet one: pale and oval, with close-cut brown hair and large hazel eyes, and a mouth that knew how to smile through suffering. Humour there was in every line of it; but something deeper and sweeter bore its impress on Osmond Tracy's features.

"Come along, Olly. Sit down; you are never busy, you know."

66 Oh, never,” said Olive, smiling and touching his brown head lightly with her hand. "Now, I will give you half an hour, and then I have to write an important letter."

"That is to Eddie, I bet," Osmond said quickly; "has the young beggar been worrying you again?" "A nice way for a nephew to speak of his respected uncle!"

Olive drew up an old wicker chair to the couch as she spoke, and sank into its depths with a satisfied sigh.

Osmond changed the subject.

"I ought to feel low," he said reflectively; "it was like a bomb-shell when his Grace told me he was off to Africa next week. I don't believe he half likes it." "Doesn't he?"

"Now, my dear girl, don't round your lips in that fashion. What has happened between you? Something has, I know, so out with it."

Olive shook her head with a little smile, and there was silence for a moment or two.

Then Osmond spoke.

"He has come to close quarters again?

"Hush! It is no good talking about it. He has annoyed me extremely."

The boy looked at her sympathetically, then gazed out of the window beyond the garden, and his eyes rested on the old stone bridge in the distance.

"I saw you together, Olly, and I knew."

He

"He has spoilt my day," said Olive, brushing her hand quickly across her eyes, as tears were almost on the - surface. “I came down this morning, Diogenes, delighted with myself and everybody. I felt I hadn't a care in the world, and then comes Eddie's letter. must come home next week, he says, and it means that he must have money, and that I am determined he shall not have if I can help it. It is his ruination. WellI would not let it depress me-I was singing away to keep my spirits up, and had just got myself back to my starting-point, when his Grace appeared with his bit of news. I could have borne that with equanimity, though of course we shall miss him—you most of all; but when he began again with his tragic tone and big eyes and masterful way, it really seemed the last straw. I was nasty to him, of course; and he walked off in high dudgeon, leaving me with the feeling that I have been to blame, and must try and patch up a truce when next we meet."

"I wish you cared for him," Osmond said gravely.
"He is a good friend, but will never be anything more

to me."

"He is good all round," the boy said warmly;

a

good son and a good brother would be certain to make a good husband."

"Too good for me. The only time I really like him is when he gets into a temper. He is human then.” "He never strikes me as being anything but human.” "He is getting 'goody,' Diogenes. I have had my suspicions for some time, and I believe you have been at him. I have a horror of religious officers. The clergy of course have a right to be so, but soldiers get so red hot over everything."

"You prefer one of Eddie's sort."

"Poor Eddie! But how irresistible he is! And how irresponsible!"

She laughed a little, then knitted her brows.

"No, Eddie is not radically bad. It was that villain Mark who gave him these extravagant tastes and taught him to care for horse racing and the like. I always feel that Eddie is a gentleman by nature, and will not do anything to disgrace us; which is more than can be said of Mark."

"Honourable? Don't be afraid of speaking out. No, I know it is not, but men in cavalry regiments are pretty much alike in that way I believe, unless they are really wealthy. Of course, the mistake was in sending Eddie into the cavalry; and he treats the whole thing at present as a joke! His one idea is to get as much amusement out of the service as he can!"

Another silence, and then Osmond said brightly:

"Pitch into him when he comes, he always says that you do him good."

He makes me

"Oh, yes, but what is the use of it? laugh, and then away goes all my wrath. I am really anxious about him. I told you that mother is continually selling out her capital. It doesn't make much difference to us now, but it will in the future, and Eddie has no right to take the money. He has a handsome allowance, and ought to find it sufficient."

"Well,"

Olive rose from her seat and paced the room. she said presently, with a clear brow, "I am not going to bother about it any more to-day. I shall write to him and beg him not to apply for more leave just yet. Colonel Holmes wrote very strongly to mother about him only last week, and if he were not away on leave himself, I know he would not grant it. Have you a fresh number of Punch, Diogenes? Let me have a look at it. We must laugh or else we die!"

Of all affliction taught a lover yet

'Tis sure the hardest science to forget.—Pop

TWENTY years before, Mrs. Tracy's husband had been Dean of Blackenbury. She had lived in the same quiet town ever since, and had brought up her family of five in an old-fashioned gabled cottage, just outside the town. Her eldest son and daughter had both married when very young. The son had gone into the Church; was offered a curacy in the north of England, and married his rector's daughter within a year. The young couple were having a holiday tour the year after, when the most tragic incident occurred. They were upset on a coach trip, the curate killed instantaneously, and the young wife only lived for twenty-four hours, to give birth to a son, hopelessly delicate and crippled.

once.

Mrs. Tracy took the little creature into her family at With care and attention the boy's health wonderfully improved; but he was condemned to a couch for life, and only on rare occasions could he be lifted into a wheel chair and taken out of doors. He was blessed with undaunted courage and humour, and in spite of his isolation from the outside world, had learned to have wonderful sympathy and consideration for all with whom he came in contact. He was a receptacle for confidences of all kinds, and never abused his trust. His quaint, old