Beatrix Randolph

Copyright by American Pkess Associatios, When Wallie reached the hotel he ' met Geoffrey in the vestibule. "You f had better have stayed at home and bnilt my cottage for me," remarked the ' fonner, is they shook hands. "You don't do going-to-Europe well." J "I have something to teil" "I know all about it. I've been ■ ting with the lady tlie last hour. I'm disappointed in yoti. You should have married her first, and she would have ' left the stage of her own accord af terward." ' "That was not the question. But how did you know" "That yon wantod to marry her? I am I only mad north-northeast. When the ' wind is in the south But she's ' too good for you." "The point is, that sha is the ' ter" "Great Scott! Do you mean to say I you didn't know who she is?" "Did you' "D Of course. I knewtheother one, in the first place. But didn't she teil you?" "Do you suppose,"said Geoffrey gravely, "that I would have gone to Enrope if I had known that the man whom I gaw j-hat there was all that mystery about, was her own father?" Wallie stared at his friend a moment and then laughed. "This is very.sad," , said he. "And, if I r.m not mistaken, ! you were with me that day when j dolph carne iü and gave himself away - Howover! What are you going to do?" "The real Maraña is here, or rather, at tho Albemarie, i want to know what she is going to do. She may decide to make trouble." "There is one obstacle in her way, fortunately." "What?" "Well, it would be awkward for her to prosecute the sister of her lover." "He is her lover only in the sense that he wants to marry her." "What about that hundred thousand dollars ho got rid ofT "It is as I say, nevertheless." And Geoffrey gave his friend a synopsis of what Helwise had told him on ttie subject. "In that case there is all the more reaeon for her to keep quiet," said Wallie. "Then why did she come to America?" tíeoffrey mquired. "Have you seen her on the subject?" "I have had no opportunity yet." "Well, leave it to ine. You are not a diplomatist. This young Eandolph has got hiinself in a nice position! If Miss Beatrix was not nis sister, or if Maraña were not nis lady love, he could take a hand on one side or the other; but as it is he's helpless both ways. I should think he would feel tired. What sort of a f ellow is he?" "He seemed well enough the littlc I've seen of bim." "I see; you think of him as your future brother-in-law," said Wallie siniling. "But don't be too comfortable. That young lady is not to be played f;ist und loose with." "Oh, I'm not comfortable!" said Geoffrey glooinily. "Well, I won't hit you while you' re down, but if you get up again, look out! Where is Ibis young scamp?" "Up stairs, I believe, with his father." 'Til have a hack at him, to begin with. You may as well keep yourself to yourself untü you hear from rne again. We cau't aiïord any more blunders." He sent up his card, and was conducted to the room where the Randolphs, father and son, were. The latter was walking up and down the floor, whila the former stood with his back to the flre, looking as high shooldered and dignified as possible. ' ' " "I am here," said Wallie ple'asantly, after the formalities were over, "unbfficially, on belialf of the lady who has been singing the past season under the name of Mlle. Maraña." "Mr. Dinsmore," said Randolph, Sr., twisting his eyebrow 'sternly, "you are 'perhaps not aware that the lady is under iny especial charge." "I have known for some months that she is your daughter, Mr. Randolph, but no one is aware that she is under your especial charge." "I do not understand you, sir!" said Mr. Randolph fiercely. "You told me several weeks ago, in the presence of my friend Bellingham, who remembers it, that you had but the slightest acquaintance with her. And your charge of her hae amorrated to 80 ïttle that she has today como to me, who lad no right to expectsuch an honor, for ■ounsel and protection." This was said quietly, but with a cer:am warmth and emphasis that abashed Mr. Randolph a good deal. He tnrned :ed, and opened his mouth once or twice, as though to speak, but no words carne. Herenpon Edward Randolph put in his nar. "Whatever may have been my ■áster's position before my arrival, sir," aid he, "it's another thing now. Til ook out for her." "If you do it will be but a tardy reurn for the services she has rendered ron during the last few months," re;urned Wallie, with a peculiar brighttiess in his gray eyes. "I don't recognize your right to medSle in our family affairs," cried Ed an'rily. "Your family affairs are liable to be public property before long. I intend for the sake of Miss Randolph to prevent it if possible," said Wallie composedly. "Perhaps Mr. Dinsmore will explain himself," suggested Randolph, senicr, in i less defiant tone. "I wish to find out from you, before resorting to other means, whether Mlle. Maraña means to take measures to assert any rights she may believe herself to have in this matter," answered Wallie, Uring his eyes on Ed. Ed looked at his father, but made no reply. 'And in c:ise she does," Wallie resumed. "I wish to know whether yon, Mr. Edward, intend to act with her or against her?" "He will act against her; I will anBwer for tliat!" put in Randolph, senior, with decisión. ■I prefer to answer for inyself, sir!" retorted Ed, frowning upon his parent. "Answer for yourself, sir?" repeated the older gentleman escitedly. "You'll have enough to answer for then, I can assnre yon! Yon will have to answer for the fortune that you have dissipated, sir - a fortune which belonged to yon no more than it does to this gentleman here present. Where would you be, Í shonld like to know, if your sister - your sister, who had never before been out of her father"s house - had not paid your dissolute debts with the money which she earned with her own hands - voice, ] mean - sir? How is a good for nothing fellow who robs his father of money to spend on a loóse woman, and Iets himself be supported by his sister" "Father, Mlle. Maraña is not" "Hold your tongue, sir! Never mind what Mlle. Maraña is not; I and everybody else know what she is! And you Btand there before me a beggar, without a cent in your pocket, except what your mistress rnay have had the compassion to give you, and teil me yon will do as you please! By the Lord, sir" "I will not permit aay man alive to slander that lady," called out young Mr. Randolph, in a white heat of wrath. "Sha is a lady, every inch of her. Whoever says the contrary lies! You may revile me all you like - I'll not say a word; though, as Mr. Dinsmore here told you, you abandoned my sister to the insulta of all the blackguards in town, for the sake of the money she was putting into your pocket. Mr. Dinsmore," he added, turning to that personage, "you are a gentleman and I'll speak to you. You see how I stand, and you can't wish me to feel more humiliated than I do. I love my sister - God knows it - in spite of all the trouble Tve brought on her. She has replaced the money I spent, and not a cent of it will I ever touch, if I have to 6tarvein the streets. But when I found on landing in New York today that it was my sister who had been taking Mlle. Marana's place, I knew I was done for. The two women in this world whom I love and honor, by George! are set against each other, and I who would defend either of 'em with my lif e, can do nothing. After punishnient like that, it's not your shrieking and stamping that canmake me feel any worse," he said, looking bis father in the face. At this point Wallie thought the time was come to interpose. He had lesa sympathy with the father than with the son, whose chief crime, after all, seemed to be that he had lost his head and his sense of personal responsibility for love's sake. It was no more than jnstice that both of them should be arraigned for their behavior, and it was poetical jusüee that the arraigmnent of each should come f rom the other. But it had gone far enough, and was not in itself agreeable for a third person to listen to. "1 think the best thing to do," he said, "is to go to Mlle. Maraña at once and learn how she feels about it. The mat,er may perhaps be arïsnged quietly. If you'll come with me, Mr. Edward, sve'll do what we, can," ."All right," retnrned Ed, whose fit of rage had loft him in a very depressed mil tractable state. 'Til do whatever you ad vise:" ■ "And I wash1 my hands of you, sir!" Bxclaimed Randolph, Sr., to his sou. ás the latter moved the door. Bnt Ed took no notice of this f arewell shot, j and he remained pretty ïnuch silent all the way down to the Albemark", where they presently ' f oünd themselves in the ■private' sittirig room of Mrs. Peters, as she still preferredto cali herself. had been sltting at the piano, but as the 'gentlemen entered she rose and carne to meet them. "I have the memory of meeting yon bef ore," she said to Wallie,. as she gave lüm her hand, whose softness contrasted with the bright hardness of the jeweled rings sha wore. She looked at Ed, but made no remark to him. "I had given up the hflpe of seeing yc-u this seasoii. Diva." observed with smile. "You drove Gen. Inigo to his vit's end." "That would bo farther than I would ike to go myself," she replied qnietly. ! ■I think he did not stay long there himelf." Her beautifnl face was calm ad juite impenetrable. If slie meant mishief, she meant it very deep down. She iid not sinüe, but neither w„i there any ign of suppres3ed auger in her tranquil Kíaring. 'It is ray fortune to be well acquaintxl with tho lady who has been singing ïero iu your stéad." said Wallie, who lerceived that it would be nseless to eat about tho bush with a woman of ier caliber and temperament. "As she 8 the sister of yourfriend Mr. Randolph, hope to seo you friends with her also." "It is my way to keep the things of rusiness apart from the things of friendship," returned Maraña with the slow distinctness that marked her utterance of inglish. "Edward," she continued, ;urning to that unhappy young man, 'M. Dinsmore has your conüdence? He mows of your - foolishness, yes?" "Ho's all right," asserted the youth, with a heavy sigh. "Be so good, then, mon cher, to go dowi stairs a little and smoke your cigar. It is not three who are company," said she, with a certain aroma of teuderness in her tone, which (Wallie fancied) was more involnntary than conscious. "Now, monsieur," she continued when they were alone, "af ter fifteen minutes I await Gen. Iñigo. Up till that I am all yours." And she leaned back in her chair and rested one hand within the other in her lap. "The general wiH no doubt answer for himself- that is not my affair," said Wallie. "But I should like to know whether you perceive any distinction between his accountability and that of this young lady?" "You would say it is his fault, but only her misfortnne." "To teil you the truth, Diva, the fault seems to me to lie between all three of you, but less belongs to her than to either Inigo or you." "It is not I who npportion the fault, monsieur; but if 1 say the truth shall be known then the affair must turn out as it will." "But you kuow that the only one to suffer would be the sister of Mr. Randolph." A slight movement of the under lids of Marana"s eyes showed that she appreciated the significance of Wallie's paraphrase for her rival. "In our profession, monsieur," she said, slmigging one shoulder and looking aside, "we have the necessity to each defend himself without regard of person." "There are two reasons why people fight - one to inüict injury, and the other to get some advantage for themselves. Is yotirs the first?" "Why should you assume it, monsieur?"' inquired the Russian. "Because in this case there is no advantage to be derived. And, besides, ;hough I can imagine Mlle. Maraña wishing to crush a rival, I cannot imagine her condescending to make a question of money." "I had begnn to think that M. Dinsmore was too trnthful to make any compliments," said Maraña with a leisurely smile that enhanced the beauty of her face. "There may be more respect in what one leaves unsaid than" "Ah! I comprehend that also. But - consider it; if I have spent all my life in trj-ing to sing well, and then I find that some one has borrowed my name, so that her singing is thought to be mine - then all that I have done in my life is for nothing. We singers, monsieur, have only our voice; when that is still there is no more of us. If it is taken froin ns we have nothing left. We put into ït all our souls and our hearts, and we work many years - it is work and not play, monsieur - and we have many hard things, many struggles, sometimes we lose everything that other persons love, even love itself. Well, you see, I would more gladly give to some lady all the money that I have earned in my life, and my jewels, and my dresses, than I would permit that, whsn she sings, the audience should say, 'That is Marañal'" Wallie looked down, and made no answer. "You have reminded me," she went on after a few moments, "that this lady is the sister of Edward. Yes, he has very of ten told ine of her; and that we were a little alike - poor boy, he means of one aspect, one presentment; as for the rest, he knows of me only what I have been to him. My other history was not of interest to him; perhaps he would not believe it, even if I told it to him; but, at least, lie as?:ed me to be bis wife, and tliough I said no it was not because I feared that he might cease to love me because of what he inight af terward come to know. You may laugh at it, monsieur, but I think he would still love me, notwithstanding all of it." There was something noble and touching in the way Maraña said this. Wallie did not feel at all inclined to laugh, and his face perhaps showed it. "I said no," she resuined; "but later, when I found what he had done, I said yes, so that I might help to make right, and also because it is pleasant for a singer like me to think she can give something to her husband in return for being his wife. But then he would not; in that he was like other men who wish in every way to be the master. But yet, monsieur, there is time to think again," she added, suddenly altering her tone, and looking at him keenly; "; wornan kas much power over the man who loves her, if she will ose it!'' "I do not doubt it at all," said Wallie, meeting her look. "Do you think 1 would have power to make him say, 'Well, she is my sister, bilt she has done what was not just? You shall treat her as if she were any other woman, and I will say nothing; I will help you?"' continued the Russian, with a subtle smile. "I really believe you might," Wallie answered. "But I can't conceive that you would care to have him do it, or care for him if he did do it." É "Ah! but with us singers it can be different," rejoined Maraña, bending upon him a gaze of dark, ambiguons brilliancy. "It is much for us to know, and to urovfi it to the worié, that we are loved Doyonu measnre; yes, b'eyond honor. It is a trinrnph, and we love triumplis- ah! who faiows howdearly? Men do all chey c;m to ruin ua monsieur, and the world l.-uif:hs and pA-es ns no mercy. Do you not tnink it inight bo sweet to make one maa yonr slave, eo that he would do your bidding in all thinga and worship yon?' Are yon so niuch in need of a trinmphofthat kind?"' demanded Wallie. Now, whethor he so intended it or not, Maraña evidently interpreted the qneation as a covert but bitter satire. She gave a little soft laugh and arose. "At last, then, we understand each other!" she said. "It is much easier so, is it not? You ate too clever for me, M. Dinsmore; you we not a man to be deceived. Yes, in this world, as the French say, il faut accepter les hommes pour ce qu'ils sont - des moyens! We ningers especially must use all things for our protection or profit. Tiens drole! Did you think, for your part, you should persuade me to forgive Ma"m'selle Eandolph because I mako a fooi of herbrother? Bah! I am a business woman. Business is not sentiment, I think! Enfin, m'sieu', I have enjoyed very much the honor of your visit; foi de Maraña, vons etes ambassadeur parfaitement accompli! But your littlo Ma'm'selle Randolph has a future already happy in the protection of a man like you; she will not grudge me the ; tle that belongs to the trae Maraña! Au revoir, cher aini!" And, laughing once more, she gave him her hand with a free gesture, and Wallie bowed over it with a mingling of admiration and vexation such as he was seldom kindled to. He had recognized his mistake the moment after it was irrevocable.' "Well?" said Ed, getting up with a haggard face from his chair in the smoking room as Wallie entered. "Well," responded Wallie, "there is no doubt about one thing - she is the great Maraña! I think you may as well come with me and see your sister." CHAPTER XIV. TOW THEY WERE LOST IN THE STORM. From the Albeinarle to Wallie's house was not a long distance, but it had begun to snow, and the keen northerly wind drove the flakes straight into the faces of the pedestrians and afforded Wallie a good excuse for keeping his mouth shut, or opening it only for monosyllabic answers to the questions which Ed from time to time addressed to him. With all his pains he had undoubtedly bungled the interview with the Russian star - just at the juncture, too, when he was beginning to entertain the best hopes of success. How swiftly and effectively she had turned the tables upon him! What terrible versatility and self command she had! With what a wicked roguishness had she fired that parting taunt at him about his motive in espousing her rival's canse! "At any rate I'm glad I let her have the last wordt" said Wallie to himself; but that was somewhat cold comfort. He lef t Ed in the drawing room and went to find Mrs. Cadwalader and Beatrix. He sent the latter to her brother and remained in conference with the former. Beatrix came softly into the drawing room and saw Edward standing near the farther end of it with his back toward her. She paused, and remained motionless, gazing at him. Her heaxt went out toward him, and yet she shrank from him. She wished to be in f uil sympathy with him, but Maraña seeined to stand between them. For when she had learned froni Geoffrey's letter to Wallie that Maraña was Ed's companion she had been forced to the conclusión that the relation between them must be an uhlawful one, and the ciroumstance that Maraña, rather than any other woman, should be the person holding this position liad affected her with a peculiar horror. There seemed to be something wantonly reiuguant in it. Sho might have prevented herself from definitely realizing the fact had a stranger to herself been involved; but Maraña! - she had lived under her name and occupied her place so long as to make her feel that she was in some way personally mixed up in tle catastrophe. In a few inoments E'l turned round and saw his sister. The personal magnetism of eye to eye with those who are really dear to each other overcomes, for the time being, all scrnples and recoilings. When, therefore, her brother gave a glad start, and stepped toward Beatrix with an inartieulate exclamátion of affection, she forgot everything except that ho was her brother, with whom she had spent her chüdhood, who had cut his iuitials on the banister of the old staircase, whose white roses she had worn on her bosom until within the last few months, by whose side she had ridden, and inwhose company she had ransacked the woods; she found herself with her arms round his neck, kissing him, smiling with wet cheeks, andmurmuring: '-DearEd! dear, darlingboy! Oh, I am so glad to have y ou agiiin!" "How well you are looking, sis!" he said at length, taking her by the elbows and looking at her. She was, indeed, beautifully dressed, and her face was rosy with the emotion of the moment, and, passion aside. hecared more for her thaii lor one else, but he had not the eyes to discern the traces of fatigue and anxiety on her face; it takes a lover to do that. When a man looka at his sLscsr he thinlw of he past; when he looks at his mistress he thinks of the present and the future. "Why, but you're a great swell now, aren't yon?' Ed continned laughingly. His temperament varied quickly, and without any moral reason, betweeii extremes of depres8ion and joviaJity. "1 had no idea my little sis was going to come out on the top of the heap this way. I always said nobody could beat you singing, though, and nobody can, though Vera is perfect in her way, too." "Vera?" she repeated, glancing up quickly. "That's her name- Vera Maraña. Ah, my deur, Tve got a heap to teil you about her! By tho way," he said, laughing, "peoplo here, I suppose, think you know more about Maraña than any one else. Well, you do look a little like her- that's what first made me look at her. But I want you to know her; I'm certain you'd take to each other. She's the dearest woman in tho world, and as generous and good as she is lovely." "Good?" repeated Beatiiktwhose Ut during this speech had run throngïl gamut of expressions and now reste ia bewilderment. f. "Good! I should think ïï. Do you imagine I'd want you to know her if she wasn't everything a lady sljpld be, and a great deal more? You oujht to have heard the way I sailed into poor oíd dad jnst now for calling lier ñames. I guess he won't do it again!" Beatriz clapped her hands together under lier chin with a cry of ahnost hysterie joy, and instantly embraced her brother again with all the added ardor that can be given to affection by remorse. She had wickedly wronged him by allowing herself to imagine, even for a moment, that he or anybody connected with him could ever be anything but patterns of honesty and virtue. For fear of making bad worse she forbore to explain to him the cause of her sudden demonstrativeness; he should be made conscious of her repentance only by the tenderness and observance which she would lavish upon him. The thought carne into her mind also that, by her love for her brother, she could in some degree compénsate herself for the loss of her other love - for she told herself that it was lost, and had been repeating the statement with tenfold diligence ever since learning that Geoflrey had retunied to New York. Ed, who was never particularly servant of the feelings of others, except when his own f eelings were bound up in them, passed over all this little tumult of euiotion without any suspicions, and, in response to his sister's eagerly expressed interest in the subject, talked about himself and his affairs to the heart's content of both speaker and listener. He no longer feit the humiliation and helplessness of his position so keenly as an honr ago. The companionship of this sister, whom he had so recklessly imiioverished, and to whose energy and genius he was under such weighly obligations, insensibly began to ptit him in better humor with himself and his prospects. It is not difficult to take a reassuring view of our conduct when our natural bias thereto is stimulated by the sympathy of one who emphasizes the significance of all the favorable features and brushes out of sight all-the nngainly ones. Ed gave his sister a picturesque and stirring account of his first meeting with Maraña, their mutual capt&Pation, what she had said, what he had answered, what she had answered, and what he had said. He made it appear plainly that his spending a hundüred thousand dollars was a proceeding rather meritorious and self-sacrificing than otherwise, inasmuch as it would have been unworthy a Randolph not to make a splendid appearance in the eyes of the woman he loved, and amidst suchrivals as those with whom he had to contend; and, moreover (as he truly observed), he himself was the worst off of any of the family when the inoney was gone. "And of couree," he added, "I had no idea at what a rate I was going it; I declare, sis, I never was more floored than when dad wrote me that we were 'ruined by my criminal extravagance,' as he put it. Besides, we shouldn't have been ruined at all if he hadn't gone blundering down into Wall street. That's the way the money went, af ter all, and I can't help suspecting the old gentleman is as inuch to blame as I am." "Well, dear, that's all right now; and I'm glad the money was gone, since it gave me a chance to help. But, Oh, Edl do you think Mlle. Maraña minds much? She can't think worse of me for doing it - in that way, I mean - than I do of myBelf; but what should we have done, you see, if I hadn't done itï" "I don't blame you a bit, sis - remember that!" her brother replied. "I'm proud of you; there's not another girl in the country who could succeed as you have. And it's a great deal pleasanter for me to come home and find the billa p;dd than if I'd found you all living in the poorhouse - which was what I expected. All I'm sorry for is - however," he broke off magnauimously, "that can't be helped. It's only my luck!" "Dearest boy! do teil me everytrigt" Ed heaved a sigh. The sense of his misf ortunes, dispellod for a time by the aiiimation of his self vindication and anecdotes, now returned upon him, "I'm the most unlucky devil alive, and Uiere'a no use talking about it," he declared despairingly. "Oh, Ed! if you can be married what greater happiness could there be?" said his sister, with a suppressed sigh for her own unimportant misery. "Exaotly! butwecau't." "Oh, you can! Who says not? Don't . ever let anything prevent you!" Beatrix exclanned with great energy. There is sometimes a bitter consolation in urging upon others conöuct which we would fain embrace ourselves. "If you love a person ever3'thing is right und wise, except to '# t yourseit' be partod f rom them. But that is almost wicked!" "What must be must!" responded Ed in a still more hopeless tone, but ncA without a secret hope that somo method might be devised to escape the inevitable. Beatris paused, thinking intently, and with increasina: agitatioa. "I believe I know what you mean,' ' elie said at last, with a deep undertoní oi sa I aífectíoniu hervoice. "You think you ought not to marry lier because 1 am your sister - that is, because I have wronged hor. Oh, Ed, that is it! You can' t deny it, dear. You would sacriíice all your happiness so as uot to seem to take her part against me. I mlght liave known that it could be nothing loss noble than that; but it shall not be- you must not dreamof it! When she knows how sorry I am - and she shall know - everybody shall know it! 111 tell you how it shall be," she continued, springIng up from the sofa on wbicb they were sitting together, and pacing up and down, passing the fingers of one hand at intervals ovor her forehead and hair. At length she stopped in frout of bim. "To-morrow evening is my Ia3t performance," she said. "After it is over I will ask (jen. Inigo to tell the audience, or perhaps it would be better if I went out and told them myself, all the whole story, how I carne to tako her place, and who I really am, and all! Af ter that she will forgive me; 111 make her forgive me for your sake; and then, Ed, dear," she concluded with a misty smile and a tremor of the lip, "you need not be afraid to mako her my sister!" "It's splendid of j-ou to think of such a thing, dear little sia!" exclaimed her brothcr, drawing her down to him and kissing her. "But it wonld never do to go to work in that way; in the first place it might knock all your popularity on the head. The public doesn't understand generous and elevated conduct as I do." "No matter if they don't understand it. I have already made up my mind to one thing, I shall never siug on the stage af ter to-morrow." "What a notion! See if you don't." "No, indeed. I had decided on that before - before I knew anything about your affairs, you dear boy! The debts are paid, and papa and I can live in the old house again, and that is all I ever meant to do. Being on the stage is not pleasant in some ways, and besides- well, at any rate I'm deterinined, and when I am determined I never change; and I will tell the audience so to-niorrow night." "No, no! I tell you," cried Ed, becoming lively agaiu, "if singing won't do foj you on the stago speechifying's out of the question. You'd be like these women's rights geese. There's no necessity for it, either. If Vera knew that you wouldn't feel hurt at my marrying her I daré say she'd come round all right. The only difficulty then would be that I should seem to be, in a certain way, dependent on her. But I have been thinking the last few days that I'd go into some profession - engineering, or architecture, or something of that kind - and theu I guess 1 could be making money enough in a year or two to take the eclge off the thing. I'm not a fooi, sis, though maybe I have acted rather like one." "You are the dearest and best brother in the world," said Beatrix, with the gentleness of profound conviction; and on the heels of this moderate statement Wallie Dinsmore carne into the rpom and invited Edward to sit down to a cold lunch with him. "The ladies would not wait for na," ho observed, "and it would be foolhardy for us to wait for dinner. Of course Miss Randolph and Mrs. Dinsmore will pour out our beer for us." Edward assented; but Beatris, after a moment's hesitation, excused herself on some feminine plea, and, refusing any escort or offer of a carriage, set out on foot toward her home, as she had accustomed herself to cali it. The evening was now at hand, though it lacked something of 4 o'clock. The sidewalka were covered with a drifting layer of white, and the flakes still swirled and dangled downward from the obscure blankness overhead. As Beatrix, walking briskly, approached Madison square the frigid glare of the electric lamp, from the summit of its immense mast, inarked itself ont on the storm like a gigantic tent of light. Wannly wrapped in her fur lined cloak Beatrix did not mind the snow and wind; they gave her i kind of pleasure; she feit strengthened and heartened by the robust puugency of the atmosphere. It reminded her of her winters in the old place f ar np the Hudson - the days of frozen foreste and gigantic snowballs, and the long icicles hanging from the eaves on the southwest corner. Well, her work was all but done, and she might begin that Ufe again as soon as she plcased. But could that life ever begin again for lier? After all the events and experiences of this season could she, iu a moment, become Beatrix Randolph once inore? Had not the name of Maraña carried some spell with it, whose effects would never leave her? As she speculated thus, and her heart began to sink again, she turned the corner of Fifth avenue and came into collision with a gentleman who was proceeding swiftly in the opposite direction. Her head was bent, her veil was over her eyes, the air was full of snow and the confusing dazzle of street lights; it was impossible that she should know who this man was, and yet she did know at once, and she even fancied that she had anticipated the meeting a moment bef'ore it occurred. And, first, a great wave of joy seemed to swell and ïanrmur in her heart, and then she called to mind all manner of unwelcome and crippling considerations, and drew herself together in a defensivo attitude. Physically she stopped, breathing quickly, and removing one hand from her inuff to keep down her veil. She thought he would perhaps not recognize her. But a man can recognize the woman he loves by a glimpse of the movément of her ehoulder far off in a crowd - nay, by the toss of the feather in her hat. The magie of love consista mainly in its stiruulating us to use our senses; and then we are surprised to discover what a marvelous capacity and) keenness tb ose senses have. The heavenly intelligeuce of angels can only be tibu result of the depth and ardor of thefe' power to love. "Mademoisella" - he began, and stcgjped, for he had never called her by lnj real name, and though he knew now what it was it had no personal association with her in his mind. "I waa gofng to find you," he continued. "i ■was ucz ios:, -d you nave reiurneü, Mr. Belli.gham?" "I must speak to you, Misa Raudolph!" 'Xa it necossary on thia córner? A 6inger must lie careful of her throat, you know." "Take my arm. I'll get a hack for you." "Thank you; I am doing very welL" She wálked on and he walked beside her. The facilities for conversation were certainly not good, even had the readiness been there. He was six o seven inches taller than she, and he wan obliged to stoop and speak loud in order to insure hor hearing him, while he was in danger of missing or misinterpreting the muffled murinur of lier replies. But there was in Bellingham a great deal of constancy and concentration of purpose. "I don't expect you to forgive ine," he said. "Only understand that I can never forgive myself. Such a blunder should have been impossible to a man who feit towurd you as I did. If I had been worth yoar Kring for I should not have made it." "It was natural; you could not have ilone anything else; I do not blame you," suid Eeatrix through her veil. Cieoffrey did not wholly catch her words; he nnderstood her to say that such. a mistake was only to be expeeted of him, and his fao feil. She perceived the 2hange in him, and faltered out, "I tnean that I do forgive you!" But a Fifth avenue stage, rattling by just then, irowned this sentence altogether. "I don't mean to persecute you," he remarked, sp'siaking in a monotonons tone, as they waleed onward side by side. "I didii't return from Europe for that; 1 merely wanted van to fcnow. I nsad to think that, whatever happeued, I could uhvays think and act like a man who believed in goo4ness and- purity. But I failed it the important moment, and you may be right- it was only natural in me. For a long time- many years - before 1 met yon I had nothing to do with women, and thought as little as possible ibout them. You seemed to me, when I flrst saw you, everything tbat I most wanted, and, at the same time, everything that I most disliked. It was the contradictio botween what I feit you were and what I thought you were. That bagan with our first evèning and went on exaggèratmg itself until the end. That's my story. Miss Randolph. After all it's only a lonc way of saying, 'I made a mlstake and be ..■ y erar pardon.'" Beatris heard al] tM. ná the more Bheheardthe moro :;r .. ïted she feit md the faster she tried i wíilk; but the sidewalks were slippery. md at last in erossing the street her foot slipped, and she would have fallen if Geoiïrey had not caught her arm. She stopped, pressing her hands, which were clasped inside her muff, against her heart, and guuwmg eins way ana tüat, üke a bird tliat knows not which way to fly. She was in just such a half frantic, half hopeless mood as often prompts women to acts which appear- and perhaps really are- insane. She knew that on the passing moment depended probably the failure or snecess, the happiness or misery, of her whole future life. She knew that everything was going topsy-turvy, absurdly and gratuitously wronsf. And she feit paralyzed- wholly unable to utter a word to set everything right. A word would have done it. What prevented her? In part, perhaps, the very urgency of her desire. which tripped up its performance. But what appeared to be the real obstacles were utterly trivial material dents, such as being in the open street, being buffeted by the wind, being obstructed by her veil, being unable to see the expression of Bellinghani's face, because it was in shadow. The more despicably small the hindrances were, and the more out of proportion with the thing they were hindering, the less could Beatris prevail against them. So it often seems to be in this world; it is not only that the monntain in labor brings forth a mouse, but that a mouse prevents the briuging forth of a mountain. Bellingham also was jetchedly aware that he had ruined whatever little chance he may have liad; tliat he had spoken boldly and perfunctorily, with a frozen tongue, although his heart was on fire. He could not help it; he could have died tor her on the spot, but he could not put into his voice or face as much life as would have kept a gnat in motion. It was all over. "Wiíl yon stop this stage for me, please?" Beatris had s;iid as another of those gorgeous vehicles camo swinging and lumbering along. "With pleasure!" Bellingharn replied, not ironically, but inechanically. Thé stage pulled iip; he handed all h-3 loved in the world up the step; he saw her fall into a sent, and then, with a jerk and a hoof clatter, stage and all disappeared in the gloom and snow. Bellinglwm remained for a few inoinents in the middle of the road like a policeman till, recollecting himself, he saw before him the hospitabli entrance of Delmouico's, %nd went in there.