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"Belvedere and Curtis bad gone into the hall and were busily conversing, Beatrice sang:

"Lave us not, oh! gentle stranger,

Linger with us yet awhile ;
Sweet thy presence ; sweet the danger,

That is lurking in thy smile.
Sure my heart, at every meeting,

Feels a new and strange delight;
Bliss they say is always feeting,

Let it not be so to-night."
"Come, Sterling.”

Belvedere's voice was unheard. Sterling scarcely
knew where he was. Proprieties were nearly for-
gotten, when Beatrice arose and walked towards the
door. Sterling followed mechanically, and the part-
ing word was a hearty "good night.” Did he touch
her fingers! Barely, but it was enough if their
gloves met.

A shadow is falling on this house.

Here is desolation in prospect; an impatient, doubting husband; a neglected, injured wife, each in thought upbraiding the other, and excusing themselves.

Beatrice had returned to her piano and was sitting pensively, not caring to play.

Curtis strode across the parlor after parting with his guests, threw himself on a lounge and remained there in sullen silence. The stillness of death reigned in that room where a few moments before there had been the wild

est outbreaks of nerriment. These 5. 1975
were alone, alone! Their eyes 29 101 FMIC
each other with the subdued irss in

ember-stirred sparklets of exhaustet ove.

are no raptures now.

The rze rui. ice. 26 ing look is gone forever. Scrow as n te ze side by side with sullen carelessness and rescair.

Yet it is not too late to cur aid 113. Ciris, iruze thyself! Be as thou wert in die boiy ia II happy love! Abandon thy wicked course i iz

Return to thy allegiance with fervency in 15 lear

and bring with thee all that earnest assiduity i
devotion which one true heart has a right to iemani
of its chosen mate.

Thy smiles will be a tres
that no enemy can scale, and thy Beatrice. this
tempted by the fairest of the angels, will wow 10
love but thine.


CHAPTER VI. Sterling had discovered, as he supposed that Ernest had a talent for music. Her performance on the guitar, though rude, was yet indicative of the most delicate ear.

She was nervously alive to the finest touches of harmony. He had observed, when with her at concerts, how she trembled under the swelling blasts of the full orchestra, as it shook the pillars of the old theatre. He had seen her alone with her guitar improvising, until her whole frame

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