l rooms in a more or less degree are reflections of those who live in them: human beings, whether consciously or unconscio

ate or over-dainty. Matting, with here and there a soft-coloured rug, covered the floor of the sitting-room; the walls, tinted a pale apricot yellow, were hung with water-colour sketches, each one of which bore the mark of a master hand; the bookcases were of carved oak, as were the one or two tables, whilst the chairs, of a severely simple pattern, and even the few armchairs, spoke rather of solid comfort, than of any undue luxury. Upon the breakfast table, pushed near the window, stood a bowl of chrysanthem

front of the silver coffee-pot and covered dishes, before Co

n't possibly all be for me," and he eyed the huge pile with the disfavour of one who regar

ster gathered the packet of envelopes into his two hands. "I thought myself at first that there mus

nted batch of correspondence, and observing that every letter bore the ini

and stared with a petrified stare at the pile of unopened letters, with their extraordinarily unfamiliar address. A dusky flu

; the wretched things are probably not meant for me at all-unless it's some confounded hoax," he added, after a pa

he letter he unfolded, with the disgusted stare of one who sees something u

ritten page, the large, sprawling wri

(so the epi

espondence with you-with a view to meeting, etc. Am twenty-one, tall, and said to be elegant. Some call me pretty. Have

truly,

leased to cheer

s, and with grimly-set mouth, and eyes grown suddenly steely, he began to open and read one after anoth

plain ones?" and with a short laugh he picked up two photographs, and looked with scornful scrutiny at the wholly unattractive features of the ladies of uncertain age, and quite certain lack of beauty. Before

man intensely happy." "Only long fo

ls; "do I want a domesticated female? 'Am considered pretty'-oh, are you, my good young woman? You can't write a civilised letter, that's certain. 'I have a

m, and flung them one by one upon the pile. "'I have been lonely for so long myself, that I can fully understand what a lonely man feels. I

what to

ttle ray of sunshine'"-Rupert lay back in his chair, and shouted

to do with these abominable letters and photographs? I should like to burn the lot!-but oh! hang it all, the silly women have taken some ro

ery. Wasn't he reading some matrimonial humbug out of-wait!-by Jove! it was the Sund

e returned to the table, gathered up the letters he had read, and thrust them into the bureau near the fireplace; and by the time Courtfield came back wi

der, until his eyes fell on the words, "Matrimonial Bureau." Yes-there it was. The wretched thing seemed to leap into si

o meet a young lady of good birth who needs a home. No fortune is necessar

s thoughts went back to the letters he had just been perusing, most of them ill-written, many mis-spelt, some gent

at the word 'lady' means. No lady would be likely to answer such an advertisement," his thoughts continued contemptuously, as he picked up the last letter of the pile, and glanced idly at the writing of the address. That writing held his attention; it was different from the others; yes, it was certainly different. It did not

ery different," and for the seco

. Cole,

rtney St

AR

me very much. If I could make things better for somebody else who is lonely, I should be

truly

m tw

a lady, and the only one who does not suggest a meeting, or actually appoint a meeting place. Those are points in her favour.

ide at breakfast time, received a few hours later a sho

R MA

x. The advertisement in the Sunday Recorder was inserted without my

aithfull

es," "Violets," "Lilians," and "Hildas," he finally r

e fairly tough-skinned, I am ready to swear. This one"-he looked again at the round, characteristic handwriting, the simple phrases-"this one-did not make up her mind to write such a letter, excepting under st

air after his distasteful occupation of the morning, Rupert went out at

would think I had gone raving mad, if he saw all these things addressed to Christian names and init

ng a little back from the pavement, in its own garden. His ring at the bell brought to the door a middle-aged servant, whose plain but kindly face expanded into a smil

sual look of brightness and sunshine. A piano took up a large share of one wall, and over the piano hung some fine photographs of Old Masters, chiefly of the Italian school. The fireplace was flanked by bookshelves, and drawn cl

and for the eyes, that seemed to concentrate in themselves all the loveliness of her face. They were wonderful eyes-dark, deep, unfathomable-with a mystery in their depths that enhanced their strange fascination. Those dark eyes with their sweeping lashes, and the crimson line of her beautiful mouth, were the onl

know it, you need not tell m

position on the couch, and her visitor seated himself on a low chair by h

stipulation, Rupert. If there is a particular reason

most unusual strength of character. The woman with the beautiful face, although she lay prone upon a sofa, and was obviously an invalid, showed in her p

irred uneasily in his chair, and kicked away a foot

pes, Layton, has been playing an idiotic practical joke upon me, and I-was fool

accents; she looked at him narrowly. "Has it-come-at last, Ru

irl unhappy." And forthwith he plunged into a full description of the sheaf of letters received that morning, winding up with a mention of the terse little letter signed "C.M." His listener's eyes twinkled mischievously as he told the first part of his story in wrathful accents, and over some of his quotations from the letters

girl-oh! poor

jokes. Goodness knows what hopes she may have built upon this letter, and upon me. Of course, I can't give her a home, and I don't want to meet her-with

promised; and-if you break your promise

n to his usual self-control; "but, Margaret, is it to be l

one of his, with a firm touch that had

f anything else, not even the thought of such a thing. It is out of the question. It always has been out of the question. You kn

nothing to you?"

for ever," she said firmly; "but if you talk as you ar

exclaimed, almost roughly, getting up as he spoke to lean against the mantelpiece, and

let us go into it all over again. Whilst I feel-as I do feel-I must go on in the way I h

little finger is

rkening and deepening with agony. "Rupert, I can't bear i

at once into caressing tenderness; "I let myself go-I

A great relief swept over the woman's beautiful features, but she was shivering from head to foot, and in her eyes there still lay a haunting anguis

the matrimonial letter. Can we put our head

helors like myself. Cicely might help her, but, first of all, I must find out if she is genuine. I couldn't impose a stranger, ev

Stanfor

r Ru

m; "it is not a pastime in which I have ever indulged. At the same time, I d

the girl is not a mere husband hunter; she is at her wits' end, and-I can't bear to think of any girl stranded in this great hungry London. I myself"-she pulled herself up short, leaving her sent

pert exclaimed, "but-she may turn out an entire fraud-an arrant adven

h of the seamy side of life." For a moment Rupert looked at her silently. Long as he had known her, Margaret Stanforth was still largely a

d like to jump at your offer," he said, after t

committal letter to C.M., and ask her, as I say, to come here. Surely, between us, we can do something for this poor little

said this morning," Rupert said when, ten minute

ure, you will remember-our bargain? A

ull of the woman he had just left, who, after his departure, lay back am

faithful Elizabeth had entered the room with a salver in her hand, and stood looking into her mistress's white face, with dis

the best things I have in life-one of the best things I have left out of all the wreckage; but to-day-he br

he dusky head against the cushions. "There, my dearie, there-there," she murmured, speaking as if her beautiful, stately mistress were a little child; "there's

simple straightforward faith, dear old nurse of mine," she said wearily; "you are so sure things will come right, and that what hurts us is for our good. And I-I can't say, 'T

n I was speaking to the butcher on the doorstep, and Mr. Mer

e orange envelope, for the faithful creature had seen the sudden dilation of her mistress's dark

hen her eyes had scanned the few words before her. "I don't

hands and read the message, shaking her head in bew

at it means no more than

ays

e; prepare f

RIO