DAVID.

MR. POWER received Christie so hospitably that she felt at home atonce, and took up her new duties with the energy of one anxious torepay a favor. Her friend knew well the saving power of work, andgave her plenty of it; but it was a sort that at once interested andabsorbed her, so that she had little time for dangerous thoughts orvain regrets. As he once said, Mr. Power made her own troubles seemlight by showing her others so terribly real and great that she wasashamed to repine at her own lot.

Her gift of sympathy served her well, past experience gave her aquick eye to read the truth in others, and the earnest desire tohelp and comfort made her an excellent almoner for the rich, awelcome friend to the poor. She was in just the right mood to giveherself gladly to any sort of sacrifice, and labored with a quietenergy, painful to witness had any one known the hidden sufferingthat would not let her rest.

If she had been a regular novel heroine at this crisis, she wouldhave grown gray in a single night, had a dangerous illness, gonemad, or at least taken to pervading the house at unseasonable hourswith her back hair down and much wringing of the hands. Being only acommonplace woman she did nothing so romantic, but instinctivelytried to sustain and comfort herself with the humble, wholesomeduties and affections which seldom fail to keep heads sane andhearts safe. Yet, though her days seemed to pass so busily andcheerfully, it must be confessed that there were lonely vigils inthe night; and sometimes in the morning Christie's eyes were veryheavy, Christie's pillow wet with tears.

But life never is all work or sorrow; and happy hours, helpfulpleasures, are mercifully given like wayside springs to pilgrimstrudging wearily along. Mr. Power showed Christie many such, andsilently provided her with better consolation than pity or advice.

"Deeds not words," was his motto; and he lived it out mostfaithfully. "Books and work" he gave his new charge; and thenfollowed up that prescription with "healthful play" of a sort sheliked, and had longed for all her life. Sitting at his tableChristie saw the best and bravest men and women of our times; forMr. Power was a magnet that drew them from all parts of the world.She saw and heard, admired and loved them; felt her soul kindle withthe desire to follow in their steps, share their great tasks, knowtheir difficulties and dangers, and in the end taste the immortalsatisfactions given to those who live and labor for theirfellow-men. In such society all other aims seemed poor and petty;for they appeared to live in a nobler world than any she had known,and she felt as if they belonged to another race; not men norangels, but a delightful mixture of the two; more as she imaginedthe gods and heroes of old; not perfect, but wonderfully strong andbrave and good; each gifted with a separate virtue, and each bent ona mission that should benefit mankind.

Nor was this the only pleasure given her. One evening of each weekwas set apart by Mr. Power for the reception of whomsoever chose tovisit him; for his parish was a large one, and his house a safehaunt for refugees from all countries, all oppressions.

Christie enjoyed these evenings heartily, for there was no ceremony;each comer brought his mission, idea, or need, and genuinehospitality made the visit profitable or memorable to all, forentire freedom prevailed, and there was stabling for every one'shobby.

Christie felt that she was now receiving the best culture, acquiringthe polish that society gives, and makes truly admirable whencharacter adds warmth and power to its charm. The presence of herbosom-care calmed the old unrest, softened her manners, and at timestouched her face with an expression more beautiful than beauty. Shewas quite unconscious of the changes passing over her; and if anyone had told her she was fast becoming a most attractive woman, shewould have been utterly incredulous. But others saw and felt the newcharm; for no deep experience bravely borne can fail to leave itsmark, often giving power in return for patience, and lending asubtle loveliness to faces whose bloom it has destroyed.

This fact was made apparent to Christie one evening when she wentdown to the weekly gathering in one of the melancholy moods whichsometimes oppressed her. She felt dissatisfied with herself becauseher interest in all things began to flag, and a restless longing forsome new excitement to break up the monotonous pain of her innerlife possessed her. Being still a little shy in company, she slippedquietly into a recess which commanded a view of both rooms, and satlooking listlessly about her while waiting for David, who seldomfailed to come.

A curious collection of fellow-beings was before herj and at anothertime she would have found much to interest and amuse her. In onecorner a newly imported German with an Orson-like head, thumb-ring,and the fragrance of many meerschaums still hovering about him, washammering away upon some disputed point with a scientific Frenchman,whose national politeness was only equalled by his nationalvolubility. A prominent statesman was talking with a fugitive slave;a young poet getting inspiration from the face and voice of ahandsome girl who had earned the right to put M. D. to her name. Anold philosopher was calming the ardor of several rampant radicals,and a famous singer was comforting the heart of an Italian exile bytalking politics in his own melodious tongue.

There were plenty of reformers: some as truculent as Martin Luther;others as beaming and benevolent as if the pelting of the world hadonly mellowed them, and no amount of denunciatory thunder could sourthe milk of human kindness creaming in their happy hearts. Therewere eager women just beginning their protest against the wrongsthat had wrecked their peace; subdued women who had been worsted inthe unequal conflict and given it up; resolute women with "Nosurrender" written all over their strong-minded countenances; andsweet, hopeful women, whose faith in God and man nothing could shakeor sadden.

But to Christie there was only one face worth looking at till Davidcame, and that was Mr. Power's; for he was a perfect host, andpervaded the rooms like a genial atmosphere, using the welcome ofeye and hand which needs no language to interpret it, giving to eachguest the intellectual fare he loved, and making their enjoyment hisown.

"Bless the dear man! what should we all do without him?" thoughtChristie, following him with grateful eyes, as he led an awkwardyouth in rusty black to the statesman whom it had been the desire ofhis ambitious soul to meet.

The next minute she proved that she at least could do without the"dear man;" for David entered the room, and she forgot all abouthim. Here and at church were the only places where the friends hadmet during these months, except one or two short visits to thelittle house in the lane when Christie devoted herself to Mrs.Sterling.

David was quite unchanged, though once or twice Christie fancied heseemed ill at ease with her, and immediately tormented herself withthe idea that some alteration in her own manner had perplexed oroffended him. She did her best to be as frank and cordial as in thehappy old days; but it was impossible, and she soon gave it up,assuming in the place of that former friendliness, a grave and quietmanner which would have led a wiser man than David to believe herbusied with her own affairs and rather indifferent to every thingelse.

If he had known how her heart danced in her bosom, her eyesbrightened, and all the world became endurable, the moment heappeared, he would not have been so long in joining her, nor havedoubted what welcome awaited him.

As it was, he stopped to speak to his host; and, before hereappeared, Christie had found the excitement she had been longingfor.

"Now some bore will keep him an hour, and the evening is so short,"she thought, with a pang of disappointment; and, turning her eyesaway from the crowd which had swallowed up her heart's desire, theyfell upon a gentleman just entering, and remained fixed with anexpression of unutterable surprise; for there, elegant, calm, andcool as ever, stood Mr. Fletcher.

"How came he here?" was her first question; "How will he behave tome?" her second. As she could answer neither, she composed herselfas fast as possible, resolving to let matters take their own course,and feeling in the mood for an encounter with a discarded lover, asshe took a womanish satisfaction in remembering that the verypersonable gentleman before her had once been.

Mr. Fletcher and his companion passed on to find their host; and,with a glance at the mirror opposite, which showed her that thesurprise of the moment had given her the color she lacked before,Christie occupied herself with a portfolio of engravings, feelingvery much as she used to feel when waiting at a side scene for hercue.

She had not long to wait before Mr. Power came up, and presented thestranger; for such he fancied him, never having heard a certainepisode in Christie's life. Mr. Fletcher bowed, with no sign ofrecognition in his face, and began to talk in the smooth, low voiceshe remembered so well. For the moment, through sheer surprise,Christie listened and replied as any young lady might have done to anew-made acquaintance. But very soon she felt sure that Mr. Fletcherintended to ignore the past; and, finding her on a higher round ofthe social ladder, to accept the fact and begin again.

At first she was angry, then amused, then interested in the somewhatdramatic turn affairs were taking, and very wisely decided to meethim on his own ground, and see what came of it.

In the midst of an apparently absorbing discussion of one ofRaphael's most insipid Madonnas, she was conscious that David hadapproached, paused, and was scrutinizing her companion with unusualinterest. Seized with a sudden desire to see the two men together,Christie beckoned; and when he obeyed, she introduced him, drew himinto the conversation, and then left him in the lurch by fallingsilent and taking notes while they talked.

If she wished to wean her heart from David by seeing him at adisadvantage, she could have devised no better way; for, though avery feminine test, it answered the purpose excellently.

Mr. Fletcher was a handsome man, and just then looked his best.Improved health gave energy and color to his formerly sallow,listless face: the cold eyes were softer, the hard mouth suave andsmiling, and about the whole man there was that indescribablesomething which often proves more attractive than worth or wisdom tokeener-sighted women than Christie. Never had he talked better; for,as if he suspected what was in the mind of one hearer, he exertedhimself to be as brilliant as possible, and succeeded admirably.

David never appeared so ill, for he had no clew to the little comedybeing played before him; and long seclusion and natural reserveunfitted him to shine beside a man of the world like Mr. Fletcher.His simple English sounded harsh, after the foreign phrases thatslipped so easily over the other's tongue. He had visited nogalleries, seen few of the world's wonders, and could only listenwhen they were discussed. More than once he was right, but failed toprove it, for Mr. Fletcher skilfully changed the subject or quenchedhim with a politely incredulous shrug.

Even in the matter of costume, poor David was worsted; for, in awoman's eyes, dress has wonderful significance. Christie used tothink his suit of sober gray the most becoming man could wear; butnow it looked shapeless and shabby, beside garments which bore thestamp of Paris in the gloss and grace of broadcloth and fine linen.David wore no gloves: Mr. Fletcher's were immaculate. David's tiewas so plain no one observed it: Mr. Fletcher's, elegant andfaultless enough for a modern Beau Brummel. David's handkerchief wasof the commonest sort (she knew that, for she hemmed it herself):Mr. Fletcher's was the finest cambric, and a delicate breath ofperfume refreshed the aristocratic nose to which the articlebelonged.

Christie despised herself as she made these comparisons, and felthow superficial they were; but, having resolved to exalt one man atthe expense of the other for her own good, she did not relent tillDavid took advantage of a pause, and left them with a reproachfullook that made her wish Mr. Fletcher at the bottom of the sea.

When they were alone a subtle change in his face and mannerconvinced her that he also had been taking notes, and had arrived ata favorable decision regarding herself. Women are quick at makingsuch discoveries; and, even while she talked with him as a stranger,she felt assured that, if she chose, she might make him again herlover.

Here was a temptation! She had longed for some new excitement, andfate seemed to have put one of the most dangerous within her reach.It was natural to find comfort in the knowledge that somebody lovedher, and to take pride in her power over one man, because anotherdid not own it. In spite of her better self she felt the fascinationof the hour, and yielded to it, half unconsciously assumingsomething of the "dash and daring" which Mr. Fletcher had onceconfessed to finding so captivating in the demure governess. Heevidently thought so still, and played his part with spirit; for,while apparently enjoying a conversation which contained no allusionto the past, the memory of it gave piquancy to that longtete-a-tete.

As the first guests began to go, Mr. Fletcher's friend beckoned tohim; and he rose, saying with an accent of regret which changed toone of entreaty, as he put his question:

"I, too, must go. May I come again, Miss Devon?"

"I am scarcely more than a guest myself; but Mr. Power is alwaysglad to see whoever cares to come," replied Christie rather primly,though her eyes were dancing with amusement at the recollection ofthose love passages upon the beach.

"Next time, I shall come not as a stranger, but as a former - may Isay friend?" he added quickly, as if emboldened by the mirthful eyesthat so belied the demure lips.

"Now you forget your part," and Christie's primness vanished in alaugh. "I am glad of it, for I want to ask about Mrs. Saltonstalland the children. I've often thought of the little dears, and longedto see them."

"They are in Paris with their father."

"Mrs. Saltonstall is well, I hope?"

"She died six months ago."

An expression of genuine sorrow came over Mr. Fletcher's face as hespoke; and, remembering that the silly little woman was his sister,Christie put out her hand with a look and gesture so full ofsympathy that words were unnecessary. Taking advantage of thispropitious moment, he said, with an expressive glance and effectivetone: "I am all alone now. You will let me come again?"

"Certainly, if it can give you pleasure," she answered heartily,forgetting herself in pity for his sorrow.

Mr. Fletcher pressed her hand with a grateful, "Thank you!" andwisely went away at once, leaving compassion to plead for him betterthan he could have done it for himself.

Leaning back in her chair, Christie was thinking over this interviewso intently that she started when David's voice said close besideher:

"Shall I disturb you if I say, 'Good-night'?"

"I thought you were not going to say it at all," she answered rathersharply.

"I've been looking for a chance; but you were so absorbed with thatman I had to wait."

"Considering the elegance of 'that man,' you don't treat him withmuch respect."

"I don't feel much. What brought him here, I wonder. A French salonis more in his line."

"He came to see Mr. Power, as every one else does, of course."

"Don't dodge, Christie: you know he came to see you."

"How do you like him?" she asked, with treacherous abruptness.

"Not particularly, so far. But if I knew him, I dare say I shouldfind many good traits in him."

"I know you would!" said Christie, warmly, not thinking of Fletcher,but of David's kindly way of finding good in every one.

"He must have improved since you saw him last; for then, if Iremember rightly, you found him 'lazy, cross, selfish," andconceited.'"

"Now, David, I never said any thing of the sort," began Christie,wondering what possessed him to be so satirical and short with her.

"Yes, you did, last September, sitting on the old apple-tree themorning of your birthday."

"What an inconvenient memory you have! Well, he was all that then;but he is not an invalid now, and so we see his real self."

"I also remember that you gave me the impression that he was anelderly man."

"Isn't forty elderly?"

"He wasn't forty when you taught his sister's children."

"No; but he looked older than he does now, being so ill. I used tothink he would be very handsome with good health; and now I see Iwas right," said Christie, with feigned enthusiasm; for it was a newthing to tease David, and she liked it.

But she got no more of it; for, just then, the singer began to singto the select few who remained, and every one was silent. Leaning onthe high back of Christie's chair, David watched the reflection ofher face in the long mirror; for she listened to the music withdowncast eyes, unconscious what eloquent expressions were passingover her countenance. She seemed a new Christie to David, in thatexcited mood; and, as he watched her, he thought:

"She loved this man once, or he loved her; and tonight it all comesback to her. How will it end?"

So earnestly did he try to read that altered face that Christie feltthe intentness of his gaze, looked up suddenly, and met his eyes inthe glass. Something in the expression of those usually serene eyes,now darkened and dilated with the intensity of that long scrutiny,surprised and troubled her; and, scarcely knowing what she said, sheasked quickly:

"Who are you admiring?"

"Not myself."

"I wonder if you'd think me vain if I asked you something that Iwant to know?" she said, obeying a sudden impulse.

"Ask it, and I'll tell you."

"Am I much changed since you first knew me?"

"Very much."

"For the better or the worse?"

"The better, decidedly."

"Thank you, I hoped so; but one never knows how one seems to otherpeople. I was wondering what you saw in the glass."

"A good and lovely woman, Christie."

How sweet it sounded to hear David say that! so simply and sincerelythat it was far more than a mere compliment. She did not thank him,but said softly as if to herself:

"So let me seem until I be" -

and then sat silent, so full of satisfaction in the thought thatDavid found her "good and lovely," she could not resist stealing aglance at the tell-tale mirror to see if she might believe him.

She forgot herself, however; for he was off guard now, and stoodlooking away with brows knit, lips tightly set, and eyes fixed, yetfull of fire; his whole attitude and expression that of a man intenton subduing some strong impulse by a yet stronger will.

It startled Christie; and she leaned forward, watching him withbreathless interest till the song ceased, and, with the oldimpatient gesture, David seemed to relapse into his accustomedquietude.

"It was the wonderful music that excited him: that was all;" thoughtChristie; yet, when he came round to say good-night, the strangeexpression was not gone, and his manner was not his own.

"Shall I ask if I may come again," he said, imitating Mr. Flctcher'sgraceful bow with an odd smile.

"I let him come because he has lost his sister, and is lonely,"began Christie, but got no further, for David said, "Good-night!"abruptly, and was gone without a word to Mr. Power.

"He's in a hurry to get back to his Kitty," she thought, tormentingherself with feminine skill. "Never mind," she added, with a defiantsort of smile; "I 've got my Philip, handsomer and more in love thanever, if I'm not deceived. I wonder if he will come again?"

Mr. Fletcher did come again, and with flattering regularity, forseveral weeks, evidently finding something very attractive in thosenovel gatherings. Mr. Power soon saw why he came; and, as Christieseemed to enjoy his presence, the good man said nothing to disturbher, though he sometimes cast an anxious glance toward the recesswhere the two usually sat, apparently busy with books or pictures;yet, by their faces, showing that an under current of deeperinterest than art or literature flowed through their intercourse.

Christie had not deceived herself, and it was evident that her oldlover meant to try his fate again, if she continued to smile uponhim as she had done of late. He showed her his sunny side now, andvery pleasant she found it. The loss of his sister had touched hisheart, and made him long to fill the place her death left vacant.Better health sweetened his temper, and woke the desire to dosomething worth the doing; and the sight of the only woman he hadever really loved, reawakened the sentiment that had not died, andmade it doubly sweet.

Why he cared for Christie he could not tell, but he never hadforgotten her; and, when he met her again with that new beauty inher face, he felt that time had only ripened the blithe girl into adeep-hearted woman, and he loved her with a better love than before.His whole manner showed this; for the half-careless,half-condescending air of former times was replaced by the mostcourteous respect, a sincere desire to win her favor, and at timesthe tender sort of devotion women find so charming.

Christie felt all this, enjoyed it, and tried to be grateful for itin the way he wished, thinking that hearts could be managed likechildren, and when one toy is unattainable, be appeased by a biggeror a brighter one of another sort.

"I must love some one," she said, as she leaned over a basket ofmagnificent flowers just left for her by Mr. Fletcher's servant, athing which often happened now. "Philip has loved me with a fidelitythat ought to touch my heart. Why not accept him, and enjoy a newlife of luxury, novelty, and pleasure? All these things he can giveme: all these things are valued, admired, and sought for: and whowould appreciate them more than I? I could travel, cultivate myselfin many delightful ways, and do so much good. No matter if I was notvery happy: I should make Philip so, and have it in my power tocomfort many poor souls. That ought to satisfy me; for what isnobler than to live for others?"

This idea attracted her, as it does all generous natures; she becameenamoured of self-sacrifice, and almost persuaded herself that itwas her duty to marry Mr. Fletcher, whether she loved him or not, inorder that she might dedicate her life to the service of poorer,sadder creatures than herself.

But in spite of this amiable delusion, in spite of the desire toforget the love she would have in the love she might have, and inspite of the great improvement in her faithful Philip, Christiecould not blind herself to the fact that her head, rather than herheart, advised the match; she could not conquer a suspicion that,however much Mr. Fletcher might love his wife, he would be somethingof a tyrant, and she was very sure she never would make a goodslave. In her cooler moments she remembered that men are notpuppets, to be moved as a woman's will commands, and the uncertaintyof being able to carry out her charitable plans made her pause toconsider whether she would not be selling her liberty too cheaply,if in return she got only dependence and bondage along with fortuneand a home.

So tempted and perplexed, self-deluded and self-warned, attractedand repelled, was poor Christie, that she began to feel as if shehad got into a labyrinth without any clew to bring her safely out.She longed to ask advice of some one, but could not turn to Mrs.Sterling; and what other woman friend had she except Rachel, fromwhom she had not heard for months?

As she asked herself this question one day, feeling sure that Mr.Fletcher would come in the evening, and would soon put his fortuneto the touch again, the thought of Mrs. Wilkins seemed to answerher.

"Why not?" said Christie: "she is sensible, kind, and discreet; shemay put me right, for I'm all in a tangle now with doubts and fears,feelings and fancies. I'll go and see her: that will do me good,even if I don't say a word about my 'werryments,' as the dear soulwould call them."

Away she went, and fortunately found her friend alone in the"settin'-room," darning away at a perfect stack of socks, as shecreaked comfortably to and fro in her old rocking-chair.

"I was jest wishin' somebody would drop in: it's so kinder lonesomewith the children to school and Adelaide asleep. How be you, dear?"said Mrs. Wilkins, with a hospitable hug and a beaming smile.

"I'm worried in my mind, so I came to see you," answered Christie,sitting down with a sigh.

"Bless your dear heart, what is to pay. Free your mind, and I'll domy best to lend a hand."

The mere sound of that hearty voice comforted Christie, and gave hercourage to introduce the little fiction under which she had decidedto defraud Mrs. Wilkins of her advice. So she helped herself to avery fragmentary blue sock and a big needle, that she might haveemployment for her eyes, as they were not so obedient as her tongue,and then began in as easy a tone as she could assume.

"Well, you see a friend of mine wants my advice on a very seriousmatter, and I really don't know what to give her. It is strictlyconfidential, you know, so I won't mention any names, but just setthe case before you and get your opinion, for I've great faith inyour sensible way of looking at things."

"Thanky, dear, you'r welcome to my 'pinion ef it's wuth any thing.Be these folks you tell of young?" asked Mrs. Wilkins, with evidentrelish for the mystery.

"No, the woman is past thirty, and the man 'most forty, I believe,"said Christie, darning away in some trepidation at having taken thefirst plunge.

"My patience! ain't the creater old enough to know her own mind? forI s'pose she's the one in the quanderry?" exclaimed Mrs. Wilkins,looking over her spectacles with dangerously keen eyes.

"The case is this," said Christie, in guilty haste. "The 'creature'is poor and nobody, the man rich and of good family, so you see it'srather hard for her to decide."

"No, I don't see nothin' of the sort," returned blunt Mrs. Wilkins."Ef she loves the man, take him: ef she don't, give him the mittinand done with it. Money and friends and family ain't much to do withthe matter accordin' to my view. It's jest a plain question betwixtthem two. Ef it takes much settlin' they 'd better let it alone."

"She doesn't love him as much as she might, I fancy, but she istired of grubbing along alone. He is very fond of her, and veryrich; and it would be a fine thing for her in a worldly way, I'msure."

"Oh, she's goin' to marry for a livin' is she? Wal, now I'd rutherone of my girls should grub the wust kind all their days than dothat. Hows'ever, it may suit some folks ef they ain't got muchheart, and is contented with fine clothes, nice vittles, andhandsome furnitoor. Selfish, cold, silly kinder women might git on,I dare say; but I shouldn't think any friend of your'n would be oneof that sort."

"But she might do a great deal of good, and make others happy evenif she was not so herself."

"She might, but I doubt it, for money got that way wouldn't prosperwal. Mis'able folks ain't half so charitable as happy ones; and Idon't believe five dollars from one of 'em would go half so fur, orbe half so comfortin' as a kind word straight out of a cheerfulheart. I know some thinks that is a dreadful smart thing to do; butI don't, and ef any one wants to go a sacrificin' herself for thegood of others, there's better ways of doin' it than startin' with alie in her mouth."

Mrs. Wilkins spoke warmly; for Christie's face made her fictionperfectly transparent, though the good woman with true delicacyshowed no sign of intelligence on that point.

"Then you wouldn't advise my friend to say yes?"

"Sakes alive, no! I'd say to her as I did to my younger sisters whentheir courtin' time come: 'Jest be sure you're right as to therebein' love enough, then go ahead, and the Lord will bless you.'"

"Did they follow your advice?"

"They did, and both is prosperin' in different ways. Gusty, shefound she was well on't for love, so she married, though Samuel Buckwas poor, and they're happy as can be a workin' up together, same asLisha and me did. Addy, she calc'lated she wan't satisfied somehow,so she didn't marry, though James Miller was wal off; and she's kepstiddy to her trade, and ain't never repented. There's a sight saidand writ about such things," continued Mrs. Wilkins, rambling on togive Christie time to think; "but I've an idee that women's heartsis to be trusted ef they ain't been taught all wrong. Jest let 'emremember that they take a husband for wuss as well as better (andthere's a sight of wuss in this tryin' world for some on us), and beready to do their part patient and faithful, and I ain't a grainafraid but what they'll be fetched through, always pervidin' theylove the man and not his money."

There was a pause after that last speech, and Christie felt as ifher perplexity was clearing away very fast; for Mrs. Wilkins's plaintalk seemed to show her things in their true light, with all theillusions of false sentiment and false reasoning stripped away. Shefelt clearer and stronger already, and as if she could make up hermind very soon when one other point had been discussed.

"I fancy my friend is somewhat influenced by the fact that this manloved and asked her to marry him some years ago. He has notforgotten her, and this touches her heart more than any thing else.It seems as if his love must be genuine to last so long, and not tomind her poverty, want of beauty, and accomplishments; for he is aproud and fastidious man."

"I think wal of him for that!" said Mrs. Wilkins, approvingly; "butI guess she's wuth all he gives her, for there must be somethin'pretty gennywin' in her to make him overlook her lacks and hold onso stiddy. It don't alter her side of the case one mite though; forlove is love, and ef she ain't got it, he'd better not takegratitude instid, but sheer off and leave her for somebody else."

"Nobody else wants her!" broke from Christie like an involuntary cryof pain; then she hid her face by stooping to gather up theavalanche of hosiery which fell from her lap to the floor.

"She can't be sure of that," said Mrs. Wilkins cheerily, though herspectacles were dim with sudden mist. "I know there's a mate for hersomewheres, so she'd better wait a spell and trust in Providence. Itwouldn't be so pleasant to see the right one come along after she'dwent and took the wrong one in a hurry: would it? Waitin' is alwayssafe, and time needn't be wasted in frettin' or bewailin'; for theLord knows there's a sight of good works sufferin' to be done, andsingle women has the best chance at 'em."

"I've accomplished one good work at any rate; and, small as it is, Ifeel better for it. Give this sock to your husband, and tell him hiswife sets a good example both by precept and practice to otherwomen, married or single. Thank you very much, both for myself andmy friend, who shall profit by your advice," said Christie, feelingthat she had better go before she told every thing.

"I hope she will," returned Mrs. Wilkins, as her guest went awaywith a much happier face than the one she brought. "And ef I knowher, which I think I do, she'll find that Cinthy Wilkins ain't furfrom right, ef her experience is good for any thing," added thematron with a sigh, and a glance at a dingy photograph of her Lishaon the wall, a sigh that seemed to say there had been a good deal of"wuss" in her bargain, though she was too loyal to confess it.

Something in Christie's face struck Mr. Fletcher at once when heappeared that evening. He had sometimes found her cold and quiet,often gay and capricious, usually earnest and cordial, with awistful look that searched his face and both won and checked him byits mute appeal, seeming to say, "Wait a little till I have taughtmy heart to answer as you wish."

To-night her eyes shunned his, and when he caught a glimpse of themthey were full of a soft trouble; her manner was kinder than everbefore, and yet it made him anxious, for there was a resoluteexpression about her lips even when she smiled, and though heventured upon allusions to the past hitherto tacitly avoided, shelistened as if it had no tender charm for her.

Being thoroughly in earnest now, Mr. Fletcher resolved to ask themomentous question again without delay. David was not there, and hadnot been for several weeks, another thorn in Christie's heart,though she showed no sign of regret, and said to herself, "It isbetter so." His absence left Fletcher master of the field, and heseized the propitious moment.

"Will you show me the new picture? Mr. Power spoke of it, but I donot like to trouble him."

"With pleasure," and Christie led the way to a little room where thenewly arrived gift was placed.

She knew what was coming, but was ready, and felt a tragic sort ofsatisfaction in the thought of all she was relinquishing for love ofDavid.

No one was in the room, but a fine copy of Michael Angelo's Fateshung on the wall, looking down at them with weird significance.

"They look as if they would give a stern answer to any questioningof ours," Mr. Fletcher said, after a glance of affected interest.

"They would give a true one I fancy," answered Christie, shading hereyes as if to see the better.

"I 'd rather question a younger, fairer Fate, hoping that she willgive me an answer both true and kind. May I, Christie?"

"I will be true but - I cannot be kind." It cost her much to saythat; yet she did it steadily, though he held her hand in both hisown, and waited for her words with ardent expectation.

"Not yet perhaps, - but in time, when I have proved how sincere mylove is, how entire my repentance for the ungenerous words you havenot forgotten. I wanted you then for my own sake, now I want you foryourself, because I love and honor you above all women. I tried toforget you, but I could not; and all these years have carried in myheart a very tender memory of the girl who dared to tell me that allI could offer her was not worth her love."

"I was mistaken," began Christie, finding this wooing much harder towithstand than the other.

"No, you were right: I felt it then and resented it, but I owned itlater, and regretted it more bitterly than I can tell. I'm notworthy of you; I never shall be: but I've loved you for five yearswithout hope, and I'll wait five more if in the end you will come tome. Christie, I need you very much!"

If Mr. Fletcher had gone down upon his knees and poured out the mostardent protestations that ever left a lover's lips, it would nothave touched her as did that last little appeal, uttered with abreak in the voice that once was so proud and was so humble now.

"Forgive me!" she cried, looking up at him with real respect in herface, and real remorse smiting her conscience. "Forgive me! I havemisled you and myself. I tried to love you: I was grateful for yourregard, touched by your fidelity, and I hoped I might repay it; butI cannot! I cannot!"

"Why?"

Such a hard question! She owed him all the truth, yet how could shetell it? She could not in words, but her face did, for the colorrose and burned on cheeks and forehead with painful fervor; her eyesfell, and her lips trembled as if endeavoring to keep down thesecret that was escaping against her will. A moment of silence asMr. Fletcher searched for the truth and found it; then he said withsuch sharp pain in his voice that Christie's heart ached at thesound:

"I see: I am too late?"

"Yes."

"And there is no hope?"

"None."

"Then there is nothing more for me to say but good-by. May you behappy."

"I shall not be; - I have no hope; - I only try to be true to you andto myself. Oh, believe it, and pity me as I do you!"

As the words broke from Christie, she covered up her face, boweddown with the weight of remorse that made her long to atone for whatshe had done by any self-humiliation.

Mr. Fletcher was at his best at that moment; for real love ennoblesthe worst and weakest while it lasts: but he could not resist thetemptation that confession offered him. He tried to be generous, butthe genuine virtue was not in him; he did want Christie very much,and the knowledge of a rival in her heart only made her the dearer.

"I'm not content with your pity, sweet as it is: I want your love,and I believe that I might earn it if you would let me try. You areall alone, and life is hard to you: come to me and let me make ithappier. I'll be satisfied with friendship till you can give memore."

He said this very tenderly, caressing the bent head while he spoke,and trying to express by tone and gesture how eagerly he longed toreceive and cherish what that other man neglected.

Christie felt this to her heart's core, and for a moment longed toend the struggle, say, "Take me," and accept the shadow for thesubstance. But those last words of his vividly recalled the compactmade with David that happy birthday night. How could she be hisfriend if she was Mr. Fletcher's wife? She knew she could not betrue to both, while her heart reversed the sentiment she then wouldowe them: David's friendship was dearer than Philip's love, and shewould keep it at all costs. These thoughts flashed through her mindin the drawing of a breath, and she looked up, saying steadily inspite of wet eyes and still burning cheeks:

"Hope nothing; wait for nothing from me. I will have no moredelusions for either of us: it is weak and wicked, for I know Ishall not change. Some time we may venture to be friends perhaps,but not now. Forgive me, and be sure I shall suffer more than youfor this mistake of mine."

When she had denied his suit before he had been ungenerous andangry; for his pride was hurt and his will thwarted: now his heartbled and hope died hard; but all that was manliest in him rose tohelp him bear the loss, for this love was genuine, and made him bothjust and kind. His face was pale with the pain of that fruitlesspassion, and his voice betrayed how hard he strove for self-control,as he said hurriedly:

"You need not suffer: this mistake has given me the happiest hoursof my life, and I am better for having known so sweet and true awoman. God bless you, Christie!" and with a quick embrace thatstartled her by its suddenness and strength he left her, standingthere alone before the three grim Fates.