reason; but if she is determined to kill herself with fretting for that fellow, she had better have her own way, and have done with it. Dr. Jones told me the other day she was worrying herself into a decline; and if she will be a fool, she must have her way. Her mother did the same before her, and married Bob Neville much against old Bradley's wish; and she is going marry Warburton much against mine."

66

'Marry Mr. Warburton!" I exclaimed, springing from my chair; "I thought you had quite forbidden it.”

"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me," he said, quite fiercely; "sit down again, and be quiet, if you can. Yes; she is going to marry Warburton, and the sooner the better; there'll be one woman the less for me to look after."

"Does May know of this?" I ventured to ask meekly, with a sinking heart.

"Of course she does," was the pettish answer. "I told her she might have her own way, and marry him to morrow if she pleased, better than making herself ill. I've done what I could, and if she will be wretched, why, she must; but, besides, she as good as told me that if I wouldn't give my consent, they would do without it ; and I believe she would too; and I don't want a scandal-headstrong girl!"

"Poor May!" I said, sighing; the tears rising to my eyes. "I hope she will be happy; but I fear for her very much."

Now, look here, Marian," retorted her uncle, with asperity, "what's the use of your crying? Women are all alike, always crying for some reason or other. They are the most unreasonable creatures in the world. I have a letter here from Mr. Warburton," taking up an open one from a table close to his chair, as he spoke, " which you may read if you like. He will be down in a day or two. He wishes the marriage to be as soon as possible. I suppose he thinks I shall change my mind," he added, laughing gravely; "it's more likely she will change hers, now that she can have her own way. You've only to tell a woman to please herself, and do as she chooses, and she's pretty sure to be as meek as a lamb; and do as you choose. I know the sex by this time, I fancy." And then Uncle James suddenly diverged into monetary matters, to which I listened with as much attention as I could then command, for my heart was very sore that May should so entirely have excluded me from her confidence and from her counsels; and I suppose this feeling crept out, when later in the day I tried to say something affectionate and hopeful to her; for that afternoon she was looking almost herself again, and had attired herself with a care which betokened returning health and spirits. Instead of the loose wrapper, she wore to-day a handsome purple velvet costume, which threw up

her fair skin like ivory, while amethyst earrings were in her tiny ears, and her slender throat was encircled with a broad band of gold, from which a gold and amethyst locket depended. She stood by the fire, caressing lovingly a ring-a broad gold band, set with diamonds and opals, which glittered brightly in the fire-light. I went up to her, and gently took her hand, looking intently at the ring, and then quietly released it again, not having words fitting the occasion ready at command.

"It seems you can't even condescend to admire the first present to me, Marian," she said, in rather a hurt tone. "Poor Warner !

he is very unlucky; I am sorry you hate him so."

"I wish he hadn't given you opals," I rejoined, without noticing her concluding remark; "they always bring ill-luck with them. I've poor mamma's opal ring-her engagement ring, you remember it,-but she said I was never to wear it."

"I am not superstitious," remarked she, coldly, though with a slight uneasiness in her voice," and I like this ring beyond anything he could have given me," and she pressed it to her lips.

After this afternoon we tacitly avoided speaking of Warner Warburton, though we grew more at our ease with each other, having so many things to discuss relating to the approaching wedding. We talked of the bridesmaids, the breakfast, the trousseau, the wedding guests, and the wedding presents-but of the bridegroom, never. His visits were brief and flying ones, and I studiously avoided him, as he as studiously avoided me.

Harvey Prescott was at home again. His father had a rather bad attack of gout, which threatened at one time to be serious; so Harvey had been summoned, and, like a dutiful son, had come without delay; but as yet we had not seen him.

It was the day before the wedding, or rather the evening before. The morning had been a true April morning-shower and sunshine, sunshine and shower; but towards evening the air became quite frosty, and the wind blew in keen gusts around the house, rendering the cheerful warmth of the fires within doors very acceptable and inspiriting, at least to me if not to the others; for the six weeks of bustle and anticipation, and preparation for the coming morrow had been the reverse of a jubilant time to me. Every day and every hour my thoughts flew back to the time, not long ago, when May and I had had every thought and hope in common; and what I was now experiencing was I knew but a foretaste of what her inarriage would bring to me a complete and entire separation between us; and worse than this was the knowledge that May was quite content that it should be so. Several of the wedding guests were expected this evening, and I had gone to my room early, al, for want of something to divert my mind from its melancholy groove,

had dressed myself for dinner long before the first bell had rang. I wore, I remember, a simple dress of white India muslin, made with many flounces, and trimmed with much lace. My bridesmaid's dress had arrived about half-an-hour before, but the box was still unopened. I had not the heart, or even the curiosity, to look at it. I had taken up a bunch of snowdrops, and was fastening them in my hair, when I heard a gentle tap at the door, and May's maid appeared, smiling, to say that Miss May wanted me for a moment. Taking up my handkerchief and gloves, I hurried to her room, at the farther end of the long corridor. As I opened the door my eyes were dazzled by the blaze of light that met them; wax candles were placed everywhere, while the fire blazed high in the grate, and May stood at the dressing table with her jewel case. She turned at my entrance, with a pearl necklet in her hand; and what a lovely vision she was in her bridal robes of satin and lace and orange-blossoms! He cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with happiness and excitement, and her lips wreathed with a smile of pardonable triumph.

"How do you like me?" she cried, and her voice had something of its old confiding ring about it, I fancied. "I would try on my dress to-night. I shall be thinking of something else tomorrow.”

"I stooped and kissed her on her forehead and on her cheek; and I am afraid she felt the teardrops I left there; for she suddenly threw her arms around my neck, exclaiming almost passionately,

"Forgive me, dear, dear Marian! and try to like him better, for my sake.

Silently I returned her embrace, and then she said gaily, fastening the beautiful necklace, "Wait a moment, Marian; I will put on the veil too."

"Oh, May!" I said, shuddering, I know not why. "Don'tpray don't it's so unlucky, you know."

"Don't be ridiculous,

May laughed a silvery little laugh. Marian," she said; and unfolding a magnificent lace veil, she proceeded to adjust it on her fair head, already crowned with orangeblossoms. Lightly she threw the delicate lace over her shoulders, and turned to admire the effect in the mirror, and then turned towards me.

"It's quite perfect. Oh, my beautiful May !" I cried, going a step nearer to her, to arrange a fold of the exquisite lace. The next moment I uttered a cry of horror. I saw flames leap up from the back of her dress. She looked round at my cry, and uttering a still more piercing shriek of terror, rushed frantically into the corridor. Scarcely knowing what I did, I caught up a thick feather quilt

from her bed, and rushed wildly after her. I seized her in my arms, and endeavoured to wrap her in it; but, wild with fears, she threw it off, and ran, with frightful haste, down the staircase and into the hall below, one blaze of fire-fanned and heightened by the draught which met her on every side; even the hall-door stood open, as I afterwards learnt. One glance showed me that I also was in flames-fanned by the same causes; then my presence of mind completely forsook me, and I stood rooted to the spot, screaming for help. It came,-I heard hurried footsteps; I felt a strong arm thrown round me, and remembered no more.

When I came to myself, which I believe I did almost immediately, I found Major Gunthorpe's arm was round me, and that his coat-a great Ulster-covered me completely, and had smothered and extinguished the flames.

"You are safe, my darling!" he whispered; "I was only just in time; another moment, and-" He finished the sentence by folding me closer to him. And then friends, who had just arrived, and servants, who were just too late, hurried up the staircase to offer assistance.

"Where is May?" I cried, in a bewildered kind of way. 'Let me go to her. Is she much hurt?"

"We don't know yet," some one answered; "They have taken her into the library, and Mr. Prescott has gone for Dr. Jones. You musn't go to her just at present.

Then followed exclamations of surprise and wonder that I had sustained no further injury than the destruction of my dress, and congratulations for my opportune rescue. And then I discovered, to my dismay, that my preserver's hand and wrist were badly burnt, though he insisted it was a mere nothing. However, he submitted with a very good grace to my efforts to dress it with the remedies originally intended for my own. After making myself presentable, I hurried down stairs, anxious for tidings of May. Major Gunthorpe was apparently waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.

Come in here," he said, gravely, leading the way into the dining-room, where the table was laid with a splendour befitting the occasion, but which now seemed to mock us with its invitation to eat, drink, and be merry.

"The doctor is with your poor little cousin, and your uncle begged you would stay here till he came for you. She is too much hurt to be moved.

"Oh!" I cried, clasping my hands round his arm, the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Do not keep me from her. Tell me what there is to hear?"

"I am afraid she is badly hurt, Marian; but we must wait for the doctor's report."

"How did you happen to be here just in time," I interrupted; "I thought you were miles away?"

"So I was, but I heard something which brought me down here to-day. I am staying with Harvey, and was on my way with him from the station-and-and we came round this way; it was not the shortest-but-but I am glad we came."

"And you heard her screams?" I said shivering, and covering my face with my hands.

"Yes;" he returned, gently. "Poor girl! the hall-door was open -some one had just arrived. We rushed in to see her thrown on the ground by a dozen hands, and enveloped in rugs and wraps; but I thought I heard your voice, Marian, calling for help; and I rushed upstairs to find you, and I was not too soon," he added, with a faint smile, and the poor bandaged hand was laid fondly on my shoulder, and rested there.

I lifted my eyes to his grave face for one moment, and met such a tender, fond look there that my heart throbbed with joy in spite of its little pain. "My love," he said, kissing me impulsively, "I never thought you cared for me; I fancied till yesterday you were going to marry Warburton; and I thought Harvey was breaking his heart about you, poor fellow!"

"You ought not to have kept away," I said, reproachfully. “I have suffered so much, thinking, believing I was nothing to you." Then a great wave of happiness swept over my soul, as I realised that from henceforth the love of this good man was all my own, and that my craving for his love and sympathy, would be fully satisfied. Few could ever know the loneliness of heart that I had known since May had learnt to do without my affection. I rested my aching head against his arm, and cried quietly and silently, partly for sorrow for what had befallen my poor May. Then Uncle James came in, leaning on a stick, looking both subdued and sad. He evinced no surprise at seeing us thus together, but beckoned us to follow him. We crossed the hall, and as I softly turned the handle of the library-door, my quick ears caught his low, whispered words to Major Gunthorpe, which were evidently not intended for me.

"The shock to her nervous system has been too great: Dr. Jones has very little hope of her."

Of the hours that followed the hearing of those words, I cannot even now bear to speak, the blow was as crushing as it was unexpected. A terrible frost sat in that April night, the like of which had not been known for years, blighting all the fair blossoms in both orchard and flower-garden, the whole country side. And yet another fair blossom died that bitter night-the fairest of them all, my May; she never recovered her consciousness, but passed from us without a word-without a sign of recognition. What was to have