-not that he put it hypothetically, but very positively, as their holding together-it must be in direct opposition to her wishes (Lady Machell was out of court for the present) and on their own responsibility.

But you will not fail me, Muriel?' he said, looking at her anxiously, his face, which had been so bright and confident when he first came up the drive, now pale and harassed, and if as resolute as before, yet suffering and depressed.

B

'No, I will not fail you,' she answered with something of her mother's quiet strength.

'No one will make you break your word?'

'No one,' she said.

They will all try, Muriel; I shall have to trust only to your faith, to your promise.'

And to my love,' said Muriel, raising her eyes to his-those steadfast, soft, and candid eyes, with the love of her heart shining through them like an inner light.

There was no hesitation about her now, no girlish shame or pretty bashfulness. It was no longer the maiden's timidity that held her, but the woman's religiousness of love that moved her, the future wife's calm constancy and faithful truth that inspired her.

He took her hands in his, and kissed them tenderly.

'I can trust you?' he said in a low voice.

'Yes,' she said; 'you may.'

Just then Derwent, who had left his sister because unable to bear the sight of Arthur's triumph, came wandering back, too jealous to keep away if also too jealous to bear his part with sympathy or resignation. He saw by the eyes, the attitude, the manner of each, that here was none of the happiness of love, if all of its strength, its determination, its openness of confession.

Neither he nor they spoke as he came up; and for the briefest possible instant he was glad that this affair of theirs was perhaps at an end, and that Muriel would be once more his and his onlyhis sister, no other man's lover-and devoted to him as of old. Then his nobler nature prevailed, and, ashamed of that momentary baseness, he bent over his sister and kissed her forehead, at the same time laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder.

'I see that something is troubling you,' he said. 'What is it? What answer did my mother make?'

"No,' said Arthur shortly.

He threw up his head.

'She did not consent?' he cried. gagement? Preposterous! Unheard of!

'She will not allow the en

Never mind, Arthur, nor

you, Muriel; she shall consent. You may trust me. If you love each other, you shall be married when you wish; and both my father and my mother shall consent.'

'Darling Derwent!' cried Muriel, turning her face to his shoulder and bursting into tears.

'You are a good old fellow! Thanks for your sympathy,' was Arthur's less enthusiastic rejoinder. But he was glad that the boy had come to his senses. He thought it would make everything

easier, and Muriel so much happier.

(To be continued.)

The Swing.

Now in the sun and now in the shade,
Floats fair Adelaide, smiling and swinging;

While we lie in the cool green glade,

Filling the air with our laughter ringing.

Up in the sky and down to the earth,

Backward and forward the swing is glancing ;

All is sunshine and joy and mirth,

While gaily the rosy hours are dancing.

Ah, fair Adelaide, so in life,

Up and down and from joy to sorrow;

The world looks on with envy rife,

Nor dreams that the swing may break to-morrow.

From life to death the pendulum swings,

Time with his scythe the flowerets mowing;
Enjoy the day while youth's laughter rings,

And be gay while yet the swing is going.