A Woman Martyr

the big, finely furnished diningroom, where luncheon was already being handed round by the men in Sir Thomas' fa

ry entrées and the pines, forced strawberries and rich rose blooms that decorated the luncheon-table in profusion. Perhaps--she seemed to smile upon him, almost to

lking so brightly about to Lady Mound and her daughters at the other end of the table. He lost the thread of Lady Thorne's rema

ourse I only arrived last night, but Lady Dulwich is suc

his afternoon, of course?" asked her aunt, when t

beating heart. "I know it is not a month yet since I went last--my uncle is an autocrat, as I daresay you know, Lady Mound! He only allows me to see my poor old

drive with her maid, my dear." He was well aware that Joan detested driving accompanied by her maid. "You can postpone it till to-morrow? I could not go wit

she has done on occasion in the hunting-field," he said, with an effort no

led to lividity with dread, with the indescribable fear she felt of self betrayal to this man who lov

and Joan, desperate, capitulated, feeling unequal to being focussed by all the pairs of eyes around the table. She went upstairs to change her habit and h

manner which made Vansittart somewhat anxious, and effectually prevented conversation, she and her mistress bounded off in a canter, and literally tore along the soft roads, startling the few pedestrians and drivers of tradesmen's carts, Lord Vansittart's ho

ld, and I think I return it with interest! She was my nurse when I was a child, helped my mother nurse my father thro

ow and then," he said, gazing passionately at th

gest such a thing!" she said, disgustedly--then, touching Nora's flank lightly with her hee

e is that groom of mine? Oh, there he is! I shall be qu

sappeared as he looked; and as Joan slipped nonchalantly off her panting steed and went within, congratulating herself upon having furnished herself with a good chanc

ned furniture--remnants of Joan's vicarage home. A big old arm-chair stood by the fireplace, where there was a bright little fire, although in a few weeks it would be midsummer. "Sit down at once!" She led her gently back

r emaciated, deathly face--shading her eyes with her skinny, clawlike hand, and gazing anxiously at Joan, who had drawn a low

tart," said Joan,

, and scrutinized her nurs

nly asked. "Oh, if you do

bitter, ho

do me if I did?" s

h, my blessed darlint! If you could only be married--to a real gentleman like him--and would forget all about th

iful eyes. There was a far away look--a look of mingled dread and ave

ation with him? Why, I blush and groan and grovel and tear my hair when I think of it, and if my uncle knew-- Heavens! he might curse me and turn me out of doors and leave me to starve! He does not love me as if I were his own child, I know that--how can he when he was at d

The old woman's features worked, but her brilliant

a dead past oughter bury its dead.' Can your uncle, or your aunt, or this lord who loves you, or you, or me, or the finest parson or king or pope or anything or body in this world, bring back one single blessed minnit, let alone hours or days? That's where common sense comes

prickly cactus, and geranium cuttings, where the long, attenuated tendrils of the "mother of thousands" in the wire basket dangled in the draught. Much and oft

ed, excited. Her nursling's troubles, the obstacles to her becoming a

f you are so partickler, you could wait another three, and then he wouldn't have any sort of claim upon ye, if he has any now, which I doubt! He was humbuggin' of you, dearie! I'm not to talk about it? I must! I can't die happy till I know ye're safe with a good man as'll take care of ye, my pretty, and that's a fact. And I am sick and tired of all these aches and pains, it's such a weary world! Now, my dearie, when he asks y

m--of him!" gasped Joan,

five year ago, when you was at school, and your poor mar was nearin' her end," she said, solemnly. "Letters? Not likely! You've had a

n a frantic whirl, but there was a gleam of hope shining upon

s suggested by her old nurse's words, possibilities which seemed to her, numbed by her long battle royal to overcome her passion for Vansittart, too magnificent ever to become probable. And she mounted

s their eyes met, and it caused him to change his tactics. He had meditated an onslaught upon her emotions during their homeward ride. "It will keep," he