conspire to keep him in a chronic state of "hard-up." Prudence bids her show this pregnant P.S. to her mamma—inclination, nay strong desire, impel her otherwise. To withhold it will make all the difference between passing the holiday, previous to her marriage in the late Autumn, with her dearest friend, and the possibility of a few farewell walks and talks with Dick, or to being dragged off in ponderous state with papa and mamma to the German Spa where they do yearly penance for their alimentary transgressions. What pleasure to roam the sea shore at will with the two chosen companions of her heart—and yet—would it be quite prudent, now that she is pledged to another? What would you do? A shimmering moonlight sea. A lonely little sea-washed cove, left clean and pebbly by the receding tide. A drifting murmur of the "Auf Wiedersehn " valse-the swish of the waves. Two figures stand beneath the starlight. One tall and manly, with dark Southern beauty; the other, petite, dimpled and golden-haired. She loves him. Every impulse of her heart, every fibre of her being responds to his. True she is betrothed to another, but the dolce far niente companionship of the long summer days, the moonlight strolls, the esplanade band, and above all the magnetism of an irresistible affinity have done their work. His arms enfold her, his breath fans her cheek. Shall she heed his vows of love, his entreaties to forget all else, and remain with him? Ah, she is so young, and she loves him so! What would you do? Parental authority and pressure of circumstances have prevailed. Poor Dick-poor Coralie ! Three years have passed, and so has her dream of lovepassed, but not forgotten. Coralie and her husband (Leslie Hargreaves) have drifted about since their marriage as fashion and fancy have led them—now idling along the Riviera-now mixing in the giddy whirl of the London season. René Symonds, more brilliant and audacious than ever since her divorce, reigns conspicuously in their world. She avows the greatest friendship for Coralie. It is true that people smile or exchange meaning glances whenever René's name is mentioned in connection with her husband-but, outwardly, her husband is devotion itself. If he be unfaithful, he at least spares her the pain of evidence. Besides, Society has taught her the futility of complaining. In the midst of all that lavish wealth and a brilliant social career can bestow, Coralie is as lonely as any captured starling. Heart-hungry-so weary of the glare and glitter of a soulless life-loveless too, since she has never learned to love Leslie Hargreaves, and his feeble affection for her soon passed into mere indifference from want of reciprocity. All through the turmoil of changing scenes, the murmur of the sea and of a voice dearer than life itself remains with herDick, loving, improvident Dick, is all too often in her thoughts. She tries to battle with them, for it is sin to remember-but she loves him so-and save for these sweet memories her heart is so desolate. They meet-the first time since their parting on the sea shore. It is Carnival time in Nice. All the world is dancing. Amidst the wild revelry a voice at her side murmurs "Coralie "—a voice which recalls a summer night, the sea, and a love unutterable. As if in mockery of their fate, the band bursts forth, from a dreamy prelude, into the Auf Wiedersehn valse. Ere she speaks-scarce thinks-she is clasped in Dick's arms and floated away on the stream of pulsing, waltzing humanity. Oh, the mad delirium of joy which steals over her—and again the sweet rest, the peace, as she feels herself clasped closer and closer, after all these years of memory and yearning. Great God! is not this sin? Whither are they drifting? As the music dies away, she gasps, "Dick, have mercyleave me to my misery." A look of ineffable pity, of love pure and abiding, irradiates his countenance. With one long last gaze he leaves her-mingles with the throng and is lost to view. On with the dance-what matters it if hearts do break? One morning as day dawns, a tiny bud unfolds itself, and brings its own comfort to Coralie's heart. Gradually she withdraws from miscellaneous society, and finds her world of pleasure within her nursery walls. The clouds gather. Each night now the clock ticks wearily away into the small hours, before the return of her husband, with flushed face, and full of incoherent excuses for his neglect. Thus time drags itself wearily along, Six months pass-six months of humiliation and horrid fears. Faster and faster gathers the storm drift! Her husband becomes more and more neglectful-more conspicuous in his liaison with René Symonds. It would seem indeed as though Coralie's sorrows would never cease. Through the failure of the Great Northern Bank her father, now a confirmed invalid, is completely ruined at one fell swoop. Fortunately Coralie's handsome yearly allowance enables her to provide for her aged parents without the mortification of having to appeal to her husband for their support. From a professed friend René becomes an open enemy. She vows to revenge herself for Coralie's refusal to receive her after an escapade more flagrant than ever, with Leslie Hargreaves. Poor, helpless, tempest-tossed Coralie, where but to her child can she turn for earthly comfort? Her very devotion to their little girl seems to enrage her husband-so much so, indeed, that she has learned to refrain from any demonstration of affection for her in his presence. Things go on from bad to worse, till finally a crisis comes. One afternoon Leslie Hargreaves dashes madly up the drive— dismounts, and peremptorily orders his boxes packed for a journey. Encountering Coralie in the hall, he nonchalantly informs her, between the puffs of his cigar, that René Symonds and Monte Carlo offer him more attractions for the next month than her recriminations and a crying brat. Maddened by her tears and entreaties not to leave her, he brutally suggests a divorce, and offers to give her every assistance in obtaining one, or if, for the sake of their child, she prefers to overlook his little peccadilloes and keep silent, she has his permission to console herself during his absence with the society of her old lover, as he has just learned that he is staying in their vicinity. Thus-deaf to her pleadings for pity-he departs. Oh, the horror of her husband's suggestion. Oh, the humiliation of her situation. What would you do? Two little arms steal softly round the mother's neck, and in this hour of supreme temptation she is saved. Who shall say that the sacrifice she decides to make for the sake of her child does not purchase the salvation of her soul against future sin ? So soon as time permits, Coralie flees as fast as train and boat can convey her-away from the gaze of the curious, the innuendoes of the heartless, and, above all, away from the terrible temptation so near, so perilously sweet. Away to a quiet little retreat on the Normandy coast, purchased some months since for her parents, who, delicate in health, and weary of the storms of life, live here tranquilly with the grand ocean before them, and the rustic, peaceful peasant life around them. Here in this rosebine-covered cottage, she patiently awaits the return of the man who has so ruthlessly trampled upon her life. For the sake of their child, she meekly accepts all the horror of her situation. Never one word of blame or of the true state of affairs escapes her lips save to one. To Dick Hayward she writes an account of her husband's perfidy and her humiliation; she implores him to put the ocean between them (as she has heard through his cousin that he is contemplating a trip to Australia), lest in a moment of weakness they find circumstances too strong, lest René Symonds in her mad desire for revenge, in some way conspires to attack her reputation through him. Dick's love for her is overwhelming-in this hour of her trial it threatens to master him; it irresistibly impels him to burst asunder all bonds, snatch her from her cruel position and, once away beyond the seas, begin life anew in one another's love, now so tried, so true. But this appeal to his manhood and chivalry overcomes all else. Again he tramples the temptings of the Devil under his feet, again the piteous appeal of this frail, helpless, little being he so madly loves stays the frantic current of his passion, and with only a note of farewell, he sails away. One, two, three months pass away, and still her husband lingers by René's side. The problem of Coralie's life becomes more and more difficult to solve as the time approaches when he must return to attend a law-suit pending in which he has been subpoenaed as chief witness. How can she receive and continue to live with a man who has openly sinned against all laws of right and decency? How can she act towards him as though nothing had ever happened? What will a mother not sacrifice for her child? All this she must and will do, for the sake of the sweet life entrusted to her care. Death, which solves so many problems, solves this one. A dispatch reaches her from a medical man in Rome, with the following words: "Leslie Hargreaves died this morning at II o'clock. Malaria, ill one week." Ah, blessed relief! The London season is in full swing. A year of Coralie's widowhood over-passed in strict retirement and devotion to her child. Her house in Park Lane is again thrown open to the great world. She is still young; time and sorrow have only softened her beauty. By her husband's will, made soon after her marriage, she is left sole possessor of all his property. The sun still shines, and once again life seems full of possibilities. Suitors surround her, all unheeded, for is not her heart with Dick far over the seas? All this time he has remained persistently away. His pride threatens to ruin their happiness, since, improvident as ever, he fears to follow the dictates of his heart, lest the world, and possibly Coralie herself, may attribute to him mercenary motives. The season ends with brilliant social triumphs for Coralie. Weary of it all, she again seeks the rose-clambered cottage of her parents on the Normandy coast, from whence she writes Dick of her love and loneliness and bids him come. Oh, joy unutterable, to meet thus after these years of separation! They are to be quietly married on the morrow. For reasons connected with an importunate suitor, Coralie is anxious that the announcement should appear in the London papers, as soon as possible after the ceremony. To facilitate this Dick has written to a friend in London, enclosing a written notice of their marriage, which he desires him to have published the day after the ceremony, unless wired to the contrary. It is their wedding morn. With heart too full for utterance, Dick is up with the sun. A message from Coralie announces that she feels too ill to even leave her room. Influenza the doctor pronounces it, and so again is hope deferred. Dick's great anxiety for Coralie drives |