piece of guilt was moved to its perpetration more by her regard for Moran, in whom she felt an interest that was stoutly denied even to Laura Foley, than from any desire to gratify the Mother Eve in her nature.

There surely can be no sense of shame in the reference to even the most delicate subjects among perfectly pure women, and it is natural to believe that both Ada and Laura went to sleep that night with a higher notion of Moran's manhood— in fact of all manhood—than they had formerly entertained.

That they had a perfectly pure womanly sympathy for poor Emma Ziffey, and a horrid hatred for her old vagabond mother, the angels that played with the lashes of their sleepy eyes told a pretty bird, which in turn told me.

Mr. Robert Cleburne's stolen apparel was re-conveyed to his room with the water for his morning bath, and the entrance of the servant found him in a very sound sleep.

When he met his sister and Laura in the parlor with the morning's mail in hand his brow was clouded, and he announced with evident regret that Miss Ada must be ready for the express train on the same afternoon.

"What can be the matter, brother?"

“I have a telegram that Hubbard, whom you both remember, will not comply with a compromise in which I am much interested, respecting the seizure of his tobacco factory. I hear this morning of his total bankruptcy-full handed, I suspect— and look for nothing else except to have much trouble with him. He is a shrewd fellow and I must look after him," said Mr. Cleburne.

CHAPTER XXVII.

TIT FOR TAT.

Cornelia Renfrew possessed within herself the means of happiness, and seldom envied the pleasures of the gay world from which a fine sense of duty to her parents comparatively cut her off. Life was young and adventure sweet, even if it was no more thrilling a display of heroism than fording the ancestral river, when the tenants of the farm feared to venture in, or slaying with undaunted stroke the black snakes encountered in rambles after the wild flowers that grew nowhere more gorgeously than in the little mountain spurs which surrounded her home.

Health and love of home brought that quiet measure of happiness which, all things considered, is perhaps best for us,—perhaps alone good for us.

The feverish souls that go mad when deprived of the city's smoke and cramped conditions, would have smiled upon the simple methods which Cornelia employed to pass the hours; but the rich glow of life which manifested itself in her face and bounding footstep vindicated a wisdom, whose secret spring was a homely robust orthodoxy in affairs of faith.

Though younger by a year than Ada Cleburne, she had always, even at school, seemed older, though much less acquainted with the "world," as society calls its little circle of scandal-chirrupping tomtits.

In constant association with her father, and having no brothers, there clung to her growth a certain beautiful masculinity, which, at first repelling to her admirers and calling forth the harshest criticism of the man milliners, was seen on closer acquaintance to be merely an outwork guarding the inner fortress of a lovable and loving womanhood.

You should have seen her at a sick bed to know how true this speech is. Then her gentle touch was not more admirable than the fine vein of common sense, courage and tact, which cropped out and blessed the recipient of her care.

Much quiet Christian work among the boys and girls of the neighborhood tenantry was laid up to her credit in the upper Courts, where such deeds are rated in coin whose stamp is the love Divine.

Her father's failing health now taxed to the uttermost all her capacity for infusing into others that glad love of life and exuberant gratitude for simple blessings with which her nature abounded. His disease was mental and came from pecuniary distress. To her, ignorant of the many meanings of money, it was impossible to rightly diagnose his ailment a crushed spirit.

In the decade that followed the surrender of her armies the South was strewn with the wrecks of old dead gentlemen, who could not rally to the new banner of life that was flung out by the humanity apostles with such strange jackal cries in the first night of our woes.

The proud gray heads sought shelter in the grave. They could not live under the new light that blazed across the warwasted horizon.

Non possumus was their sole reply to the invitation to begin at sixty the recovery of lost estates and personal liberties proclaimed to be in abeyance.

Such an one had Colonel Renfrew come to be, after holding up so long and manfully, to see the subsidence of the great waters and the appearance of the heavenly bow. He was in debt, and its slavery grew to be insupportable to one whose long life had been not only thoroughly free, but attended throughout with the prerogative of domination.

He was not one to play at king in a garret. The substance was gone, and he wished not to delude old age with the shadows of his former state. The future of the young girl, whose veins now alone carried in full current his blood, was the weighty

pressing care of his many wintered life. He wished before departing, to see her happily guarded by the strong devotion of a Southern youth in every way worthy of her.

It was to talk of this, that on the golden afternoon which now danced through the Brookwood roof trees, and over the Brookwood lawn, he hobbled from his invalid's chair on the portico and sought Cornelia in the summer-house that was perched on the decline of the hill and covered a great bold spring, where Tradition said Daniel Boone had fixed for some months a hunter's camp, ere yet he entered upon the conquest of Kentucky. The girl was occupied with Tennyson's Poems, and had just finished Aylmer's Field as her father came upon her. "What a sad story it is,” she said, after telling him of her employment. "I remember it well," he answered, and with great gravity added, "it is about such things I came to talk to you."

She was much startled by the words and manner, and for the first time in her life felt a sense of embarrassment in the paternal presence.

"What can you mean, papa?" were the hurried words in which she recovered breath.

“That I do not, like Sir Aylmer Aylmer, wish my house left unto me desolate, and knowing as I do that but few years remain to me, my desire above all earthly things is to see you happily married," said the old man.

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'Why, papa, I never thought of such a thing. Surely you do not wish me to leave you."

"No, my dear, but I am soon going to leave you, and will pass away unhappy if ignorant wholly of your future plans for life. I have not failed to note Mr. Hubbard's repeated visits here, his little presents to you, and evident happiness in your company. Do you mean to say that you have no knowledge of his intentions towards yourself? I wish to know how that matter is."

"Well, sir, of course you have a right to know. Mr. Hubbard addressed me and I rejected him. I did not love him. We are friends and nothing more."

"When was that?" enquired Colonel Renfrew. "Upon his last visit?"

"He has since that gone into bankruptcy, and has settled a large claim due me—about all the fortune you have-with a notice from his assignee of the fact that I can come forward, prove my debt, and get, we will say at a guess, ten cents in the dollar, of your good money. It is the hardest lick I ever had," the old gentleman said.

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Surely Mr. Hubbard is not dishonorable," cried Cornelia, "and will one day pay you. Why I have just received a letter from Ada Cleburne, who is with her brother in Naples, and she spoke of Mr. Hubbard as being very rich, and said he had made a large amount of money from some transactions in which her brother Robert lost heavily."

"I have a letter from Hubbard himself. He will be here on Saturday of this week, and holds out hopes of making me secure; but how can he do it, unless his bankruptcy is fraudulent, and I would rather lose the money than believe him capable of such rascally conduct as that would imply. He has been my friend always, and was the friend of my poor boy. But there is no accounting for the conduct of people nowadays. The whole country is becoming corrupt and demoralized. Men are daily guilty of actions which they would have scorned before the war. I do not know how it is. Sing something for me, my dear, I do not like to think now."

"What will you have," she asked, "your favorite?"

Yes, sing that. It is always sweet to me."

High reaching through the balmy air of the early spring afternoon, soared the lark-like notes of the devoted daughter's song.

Seeing that he was much affected, her own bosom broke into tears as she asked, "Father, what would you have me to do? I will do anything for you. Will my marriage with Mr. Hubbard make you happy? Tell me frankly if that is what you wish."