Part 59 (2/2)

I clutched at the table for support as the awful truth began to dawn on me

Mary rose in alare,--didn't you know?

Didn't I tell you before? You have heard of him?--you are acquainted with him,--Viscount Harry Brammerton--”

”Oh! Mary, Mary,” I cried huskily, ”please,--please do not go on It is more than I can bear now

”I didn't know I,--I ae Brammerton”

She stood ever so quietly

”You!--You!” she whispered And that was all

Thus we stood,--stricken,--speechless,--under the cloud of the unexpected, the almost impossible that had come upon us

Yet Mary, or rather Roseain her composure

Kindly, sweetly, she came over to me and placed her hands on my shoulders Her brown eyes ells of syht this out alone Co for you then”

And I left her

But it see would never coer amid the confines of ht, to wait the co of the dawn

As I stood out on the cliffs,--where old Jake Meaghan so often used to sit listening to Mary's music,--she came to me; fairylike, white-robed, all tenderness, all softness and palpitating woe,” she whispered, ”I could not wait tilleither--And why should ait, when e, the vow they h we have not known it till now,--need not be broken after all”

I caught her up and kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair,--again and again,--until she gasped, thinking I should never cease

With our arms around each other, aited on the cliffs for the sunrise We watched it cothe waters of the Bay ablaze

”And we h of regret

”For a tie; not always; for the little bungalow behind us is ift last Christmas to me from my father's dear American friend, , I spent the happiest of all irlhood days”

”Mary,--Roseht kept recurring to reat happiness,--”there is a little maid 'in the North Countree' in whom I am deeply interested The last I heard of her, she had been jilted by her lover Didn't he ever co near to breakfast-tie, Earl of Brammerton and Hazelmere, Storekeeper at Golden Crescent, runs over ho his porridge and _boiling_ his tea,--he may hear of what happened to that sweet, little h, as I stood, withoatmeal and water that threatened every hvoice of Rose Lady Rosemary:--

A lad little loith a rosy hue, For her knight proved true, as good knights should be

And, day by day, as their vows renew, Her spinning wheel purrs and the threads weave through; It purrs It purrs It purrs and the threads weave through