A Sacrifice

Many yeara ago I had afrien ■ -enneth Lamberfc. He was younger (han myself, at that time iive or six and twentyffull of aspiratrons for a better, purer cxistence than tho life we lead. 3 lis day dreara, cherished for a long time, was to leave society, and, choos iniz some ïetired spot, live there alone with nature, in study and eontemplation. "Talk," his (rienda called it when they heard of it. Cut Kenneth, through all his work - and he was no idler- retained the notion ofthisplan. At last an unaxpected legacy enabled him to leave the Bar and parchase the choseil site for his m-w liome. It was a ruinedchapel on the side of a moor, a place he had known all his life. Of the wayside chapel nothing was left but an areh way. Behind this he had ncw wa!U built, dividing the house into two room3 one over the other. When all was complcted he went there. Some people, I know, tbought him mad; his sisters laughed, saying he would soon be tired of his scheme. I believed in him. I would gladly have joined him, but a man with a wifo and cbild isnot a free agent. He cannot retire into a ife of contemplation muchhe may wish it. I went to see Kenneth in his new home. The place was almost inaccessïble; had not Kenneth met me on the hilltop and shown me the way over the moor and moas I ehould never have found it. The chapel was in a copse; a wild stream brawled by it. The oak, alder and holly, were restrained by a fence from enexoaching on the chapel, and marah planta thrust their sterns through the bars. The nearest house was a farm half a milt? a way. Kenneth's bedroom was simple, hissitting room furr.ished in perfect taste. On the walls some fine etchings, a plastei relief wbeuce smiled the homely face of Sócrates, on a bracket the image of i Buddha. Bet ween these was an engraving of Dore's Vale of Tears. Books, too, there were in plenty, and the fox terrmr - such were Kennuth's compauïons. "And nature," he said when I made this remarle. "And here it is that you willstay.in peace and quiet," I said, "until your uission sends you forth." "Peace and quiet?" he nn&wered, smiling; "no, those are not for me. I nave a preaentiment that this ideal jfe will not last long. I shall marry." 1 looked ncredulously at him. He showed me his hand. "It is written :ierc." he said; "I see it only tooplainy. Far us it ia from my desires, it is fated." For more than six months I heard nothing of Kenneth. We went for tho winter to Torremouth, I and my wife, ind to our surprise and pleasure found :he Lamberts had the house nest our own. We luid a flat, and on the flat aelow us 1 i ved Mra. Vernay. Mrs. Vernay was the belle of Torremouth, and ustly; I never saw any woman so seautiful, never shall again see sueh a ace. She was tall and slight, with a air skin, blue eyes shaded with dark ashes, and her shapely head crowned with really golden huir. So art was there, it was all nature, nature in her utmost perfection. Sho was young, a widow, said to bo enormously rich, but had she been a beg;ar maid wo all should havo worshipjed lier. Young, oíd, sintle, married, ;here were none but paid homage at ler shrine. Frank Lambert was badly bitten by ler charms. He was two and twenty, lome for tho lirst long leave. Mrs. V p 5-a i-: '- any of the others; perhaps bnng such a boy she looked on him as a safe ame. I know that shestole hisheart with the first glance of her violet eyes, ind that he has never recovered from iier influence. We were sitting together one afternoon in the Lambert's drawing-roora when Kenneth walleed in. Torremouth was not more than ten miles from his retreat, and he had walked over, not to pay his mother a passing visit, but to stay if she would have him. Did any mother ever refuse to reccive her eldest son? How the girls laughed at him! deel ar ing their prophecies true and saying he was weary of Bolitude. I feit a little surprised at him. Only one person preserved her faith in him; this was Grace Cheslyn, the girls' friend, almost like another sister. She was stayina with them, and upheld Kenneth wh ate vet we might say. Mrs. Vernay dined that night with the Lamberte, coming in like some beautifn! being from another world, jewels gHttering in her dress, and in lier hair a snake that glittered with diamonds and rubi We all came and paid court to her, Kenneth included. Slie' looked with interest at him, saying: "Ah! TheHermit brother. I have so wanted to se you. Have you left your seclnsion?" "Yes, as wo all knew he would," qnoth Marie Ijambert. "The cold weather on that moor could not be pndured." "My sister is mistaken,'' said Kenneth; "I left for other reasons, and did not particularly like coming away from my soliti: "We will teach you the pleasures o society," Mrs. Vernay cried. "Solitude is horrible. Man was not made to live alone." Did I see Kenneth wince? I could not teil. Then Grace came, askinq Mrs. Vernay to write in her birthday book. And the beauty inscribed "Lily Vernay" in a clear. beautiful writing, matchless as herself. Kenneth read it over Graco's shoulder. "Your name is Lilith," ho said to Mrs. Vernay. "Who told you that?" she asked, and he replied: "I know it," without offering any explanation. "Li'ith! horrid!" imumured Grace, as, with Frank, Mrs. Vernay moved towaid the piano. "I think it pretty; why horrid?" Marie asked, "Do you kuovv about Lilith?" her friend replied. ''She was Adam's first 'viïe, and for transgresaion was turned out oj i'araüisy, She is the enemy of all littlo children, and tvhen Jewish babies are boin the nurses writt 'Lilith, avauntl' ac;ainst tho wall, lest she should come and kill the chilrl And tradition says that she stil haunts the world as a beautiful wom au, who entices men to marry her and then strangles them in her golden hair." "A tradition," said I, "something like the legenda of the Greek Lamia.' "How do you know that there is nqttruthin traditiona and folly in rejecting them?" Kenneth asked. Nieanwhile Mrs. Vernay was singing song after song, and with every note stealing away n litot Frank's heart And lier lullig won Kcnnoth to hoi side, for he took hia brothor'a place at the piano, and stood there turning over her pages - I believe in all the wrong placea, for he looked more in her face than at the music. I confess that in thoso days I was vexed with Kenneth, for he seemed to have taken a sudden nnd inexplicable plunge into the society which a few months previously hf hadabjured forever. There seomed oniy one explanation - hia ideal life had proved dull and irksome. Everywhere I met hini, chiefly with Mr3. Vernay; often Frank v;is with them, a woe-begone, undesired third party. And the girla declared that it was a shame Kenneth, who railed against marriage, ehould como and steal her away trom his brother. A few vromen there were who disliked Mra. Vernay. My wife was one of them, and well enough we all knew the reason. For when, with maternal pride, she ono day showed off the children to thepretty widow, Mrs. Vernay lurned froni them with a cold look of disgust, saying," I detest childrpn." An insalt no mother could forgive. "Tliat unnatural woman," my wife from henceforth called her. How lovely she looked attheChristmas ball when, radiant with delight, she crossed room to say to me, "Look at the progresa o! my conversión. Here is Hermit Kenneth in this frivolous scène." "I wish I was at the chape!, " Kenneth himself remarked; and certainly no man looked so unsuited to a ballroom. He had grown palo and thin (inving his solitary life, and wore a thoughtful air I never before had noticedin him. "Why on earth don't you go back?" said I. "Nnthins has surprised me more than your appearanco here." "I knew it would be so," he answered. "I hml lo come." Then in that incongruous place he be;an telling me his experience in that wild solitude. I bean to think my life there nseess.amereindulgenceof my owntastes. 1 read and thought but the mysteries of lite seemed as unfathomable as ever. One evening I feit myself no longer alone. I saw nothing.Ihoard nothine, yet I absorbed this command into my being: 'Go into tlie world, for there is a life you must save, a demon you must vanquish, and the life you have led has given you power to fight and conquer The world will mock, and your friends misunderstand you, but heei them not. By this token know both destróyer and destroyed.' Thpn across the floor of my room glided a glittering snake, unlíke anything we see upon English moors. And I, obeying the command, came hereto find the destróyer." At that moment he trembled.touchod my arm. and bade me look across the room. There stood Frank and Mrs. Vernay - she with the jewelled snake twisted in her hair, he with another, a bracelet of hers, clasped around his wrists; some joke had passed between them, and she had slipped it on."My dear Kenneth, these are faneies, nothitv hut, fancies," I said, for his manner alarmed me. "You can't think that anything more dangerous than a boyish love affair can result from Frank's friendship with Mrs. Vernay." "Lilith!" was all he said. "Teil me, liow did you guess her name "It came to me as that command came, hen I saw her write," he replied. Then crossing the room, le asked the beauty to dance, taking her away from Frank. I believe bets passed between the men at the Torremouth Clubs as to whioh of the brothers would marry beautiful Mrs. Vernay. I confess I wondered myself whether Kenneth would relinquish his noblb schemes and marry like any other ovdinary mortal. I rarely saw him without Mrs. Vernay. He rode with her, drove with her, spent long hours in her pretty drawing room, and walked with her on the esplanade. I xsked him what was coming from ailthis.and hadforreply, "If I don't marry her, Frank will" - ouunail wWitl nf thfit timp Rf.TMlpV me as strange. And ona day Frank cameto my wife to pour into her sympatheticears wild, fieice ravings against his brother. Why had Kenneth talked all that nonsense about celibacy and seclusion when he came and took away the onty woman Frank ever would, ever could, love? And thua we heard of Kenneth's engagement to the beautiiul Mrs. Vernay. All the men in the place envied him, but never in my life have I seen so grave and gloomy a lover. Yet, like all the other men who met her, he seemed to adoro her. I never heard any one question his devotion. Perhapb their eyes worè blinded. I know we all pitied Frank. And the time Í)assed merrily by to the weddingday, lrs. Vernay growing daily more beautiful. Once she passed me as I walked with a friend on the esplanade. 'Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "What a likeness!" "To whom?" I asked. "To a peasant girl in the Black Forest who a few yoarsagocreatedagreat Btir in her viilage. All the young fellows were in love with her; she married one of them, and a few days later he was found dead in his bed, the bride ha ving vanished no one knew whither." "An unpleasant story," I said,little pleased to notice Kenneth near me, who must have heard every word. "Of course, it is only a chance likeness," said my friend. "Lilith!" murmured Kenneth as he passed me. A week or two later and there was a fashionablo wedding in Torremouth, dismal as are all such festivities. Kenneth has beggnd hismightbequiet, but Mis. Vernay laughed in his face. "You ridiculoua boy'" she said; "people will think you are aehamedof me." The only member of the family not present was Frank. He had rejoined nis regiment. It was over- breakfast, speeches, and all- and I was refreshing myself by a walk near the sea. A total 8tranger came up and addressed me, inquiring about the mornÏDg's wedding. He appeared to have been ,-i spectator in the church. Among other things, he asked the bride'sname. "She was a Mrs. Vernay," I replied. "Ah," he said, "I thought I Unew her again." "May I ask where you met her?" "In Ceylon, She carne out as a bride - aftcr three weeks-" He paused, but i begged hiin to go on. 'It is an unpleasaut scory,"liesaid. "Her husband was found strangled ia his bed. TUey said one of the Syces had done it, but sonie tbonght Mrs, Vernay could have explained the matter." I asked no further questions a voice seemed to whisper in my ear. "Lilith!" and the stranger went on his way. But I forgot my forebodings as the days passed bringing nothingbutgood news of Kenneth and his wife as they traveled in the lakedistrict. Wetalked of them, of the weather they must be enjoying, and speculatedas to their future home as yet undertermined. One night after my wife had eone to bed I was lingering over thefiré. Carelessly I raised my eyes toward a mirror hung above the mantelpiece, and then my attenuon was riveted by the reflection that met my eyes. It was no repititlon of the room I was in, hut a faithful picture of Kenneth's retreat at the chapel. I savv the door open and a flood of pale moonlight stream into the room. I saw Kenneth and his wife enter as from a long journey, and I notieed her passing round the room looking at his treasures while he lit a lamp. She had aomethinginher handsgleaming against her dress, and I notedhow she stole behind bim as he bent over the light. Then a cloud oí vapor aróse from the lamp, and he turned to face her, stern and unyielding. She threw herself kneehng, praying at his feet, but he never flinched; then she rose, changing into a tall, thin, pale figure, with a death-like face and nollow, gleaming eyes. Still he never faltored, and with acry this beine rushed tlirougli tho half open door into the moonlight. The visión haunted me, though in every way possible I tried reasonably to account for it. The next morning I leftTorremouth by the earliest train, stopped at the station nearest Kenneth's retreat, and with some little difiiculty found my way to the chapel. All was lonely and deserted, yet I seemed tonote hanging round the room faint traces of that smoke-like vapor. I returned to Torremouth telling myself that it was but fancy, and that Kenneth with his wife, was in VVestmoreland. At home, to my surprise, I found Frank waiting to see me. "I have seeu Kenueth," were his first words "When?" Icried. "He carne to me last night; 1 havo seen her, too," (lowering his voice,) "in her true form. I know now all that he did for me. See - he gave me this." It was a noose made of a thick coil of wonian's golden hair. From that time to this I have never again soen Kenneth Lambert, nor has any one else. Now, perhaps, you may cali me a silly old fooi for thinking anything supernatural lay behind these circumstances. You may cali Kenneth mad, as many do, and find excellent reasons to account for everything else. I have told neither more nor less than I saw. Put what interpretation you please upon it, I can offer none. Was she Lilith? I cannot teil. But she cost the life (no matter hovv it ended) of one of ;he noblest men I ever knew. And Frank still suffers from having once been beneath her