"Yes-yes; but I mean, what do you know of and dislike. She became pale and miserable, often her family?" sullen and defiant. Finally she left me!" "Left you?"

But his nephew was gone. Hoping, fearing, not knowing what to hope or fear, Mr. Hilton watched the clock till the hour should be over.

He walked up and down, tried to read, he lived over again that past, whose remorseful memories had been so vividly recalled.

With Myra's picture before him, he thought over again of that wild, fierce love that had been his happiness and his blight.

"Why was I not calm, reasonable as became my years and my position?" he asked himself, bitterly; "why did I give a boy's love to a woman who had lived in society and respected all its requirements? I lived an ideal life-Myra the actual one around us. Where is Hilton? What can he know? What has he discovered! Only three minutes gone and it seems a day since he was here."

But even before the hour was over Hilton returned.

In his eagerness to question him, Mr. Hilton did not notice that he came through the drawing-room to the library where he waited, leaving the door a little open.

"Where have you been?" Mr. Hilton asked. "To procure this!" Hilton answered, gravely, placing in his uncle's hand the duplicate of the bracelet upon the table.

wronged your mother, but have sorrowed and repented for that wrong. Can you forgive me?"

The tears were falling fast from Anna Hilton's eyes, and her voice was trembling with sobs as she said:

"My dear father!"

SEE ENGRAVING.

That was all; but George Hilton folded his child in his arms, he knew he was forgiven, and for him at least there might be happiness in making others happy.

Good Mrs. Willet mourned and rejoiced at once over her own loss and her adopted daughter's good fortune, but consoled herself with the thought that Ada must have left her to be Hilton's wife, and, after all, they would still be neighbors.

But she would not give her up until after a most brilliant wedding, and George Hilton only welcomed his daughter to her home when he also gave tender greeting to Hilton's wife.

Dealing with Thieves.

The following true story is told of Jacob Sheaf, Esq., a merchant of Portsmouth in former times: A man having purchased some wool of him, which he had weighed and paid for, Mr. Sheaf had gone into the back room to get change for a note. Happening to turn his head while there, he saw in a glass, which swung so as to reflect the shop, a stout arm reach up and take from the shelf a

"The same braid of sunny brown hair, with here and there some of raven black streaked with grey; the same small clasp with a wee coil of baby curl under the glass; the same lettering, too-heavy cheese. Instead of appearing suddenly and Myra and George twined together with fantastic scroll and twists. For several moments there was deep silence. The old man could not speak, and the young one would not break in upon what he felt to be a sacred emotion. At last, lifting his head, George Hilton asked:

"Does Myra live? Can she forgive me?"

"It is years since she died," Hilton answered, "but, surely, in Heaven she has forgiven you. She never spoke of you to your child but in words of respect and affection, though she always spoke of you as dead."

"My child! Do you know my child?"

"I know and love her. Do you not guess, Uncle George, where I saw that bracelet whose duplicate I recognized at once, whose face is a living copy of the one in your locket? Must I tell you that the child Mrs. Willet rescued from poverty, and adopt ed for her own, is my cousin, and your daughter!" "Ada Smith ?"

"Smith was the name her mother thought most probably would best conceal her identity, and Ada was the name of Mrs. Willet's only child, who died in infancy."

"But why have you not brought her to me?" asked Mr. Hilton, with almost a sob in his voice.

And as he spoke, the door Hilton had left ajar opened, and across the threshold stepped a tall, beautiful girl, with sunny brown hair, and large blue eyes, who waited timidly until her father came quickly to meet her.

"Anna!" he said, softly. "Can this be my baby-my wee daughter! It must be, for it is my Myra, who has not grown old and grey, as I have, but lived in perpetual youth. My child, I

rebuking the man for his theft, as another would have done, thereby losing his custom forever, the crafty old gentleman gave the thief his change, as if nothing had happened, and then, under pretence of lifting the bag to lay it on the horse for him, took hold of it, and exclaimed:

"Why bless me, I must have reckoned the weight wrong!"

"O, no," said the other, "you may be sure you have not, for I counted with you!"

"Well, we won't dispute about the matter, it's so easily tried," said Mr. S., putting the bag into the scales again. "There," said he, "I told you so; knew I was right; made a mistake of nearly twenty pounds. However, if you don't want the whole, you needn't have it; I'll take part out."

"No," said the other, staying the hands of Mr. S. on the way to the strings of the bag, "I guess I'll take the whole."

And this he did, paying for dishonesty by receiving the skim-milk cheese for the price of wool. On another occasion, Mr. S. missed a barrel of pork. A few months after a man asked the question:

"Did you ever find out who took that pork, Mr. Sheaf?"

"Yes," was the reply, "you are the fellow, for none but myself and the thief knew of the loss."

Edith and Mabel had just put their dollies in their little crib, when Edith, with the expression of one who has had a great weight lifted from her shoulders, said: "There! I'm thankful we've got the children to bed! We shall have a little peace now!" Where in the world did she get such a ridiculous notion?

SAVED FROM DEATH;

OR,

THE STOLEN JEWELS.

BY ARTHUR L. MESERVE.

ON MANUEL DE CARTNEY was one of the wealthiest planters in the western portion of Cuba. He owned broad lands and numerous slaves, and his revenues derived from them were so great that the money flowed into his coffers with a steady current which bid fair to amass for him a fortune in gold scarcely inferior to that of his estates.

The Don was blessed with but one child and heir to all these huge estates, and this was a daughter, as beautiful as a poet's dream, or ever a lover conceived his mistress to be.

Fair indeed was the beautiful Inez. As her father was rich, so was she beautiful.

Lovers she had by the score, who one and all worshipped her, as they would some fair saint. But to one did she give encouragement, and he, like most of the others, were banished from the house.

Don Manuel had no notion that any common lover should carry off his daughter, much less a Yankee, who had only his good looks to recommend him.

He had rendered his daughter some little service upon one occasion at a crowded fair, and for this she had been very grateful, and in return had asked him to the house.

To this the Don had made no objection, but his sharp eyes had soon discovered that the Yankee was daring to make love to her, so one day he imparted to him the information that his presence there was no longer desirable.

Walter Garland took this rather plainly implied hint and departed, but he did not by any means give up the plans he had in view. So long as he felt sure of the love of Inez, he did not despair.

There were ways enough for him to see her, if it was not in the old don's drawing-room, he resumed, and he determined to improve them.

Two or three times they had met thus, while the old Don was asleep and unconscious of what was going on under his very nose.

He thought that Inez like a dutiful child, had obeyed him by casting off her Yankee lover, who, he deemed, was only after his gold, and had sought his child as a matter of speculation.

One evening, just as the sun was going down, and the western sky was all aflame with purple and gold, Inez sat by the window of her apartment, which opened out into the grounds which surrounded the house.

A casket of jewels lay open upon the table by her side, sparkling in the golden light that flashed in through the window.

She was expecting the arrival of her lover as soon as the darkness was well down, and was arraying herself so that she might please him, whom she loved with all her soul.

The rising of the moon was to be the signal of his coming, but that would not follow the sunset

for more than an hour, so she had plenty of time to make herself look as beautiful as possible in his eyes.

Taking a glittering necklace from the casket she threw it over her beautiful head, while each gem of which it was composed flashed like a flame in the golden light.

Thus engaged in beautifying her person for the eyes of him she loved, she was not aware that every motion of hers was watched by the sinister gaze of a person so close to her that she could almost have touched him had she put out her hand.

Crouching beneath the window by which she sat was a man whose every look showed him to be a villain of the deepest dye, and one who would not hesitate to strike a blow in the breast of innocence, if thereby he could accomplish his wicked ends.

He had gained his present position unseen by Inez, who, absorbed in the contemplation of her jewels and her toilet, had cast no look outside.

From about the other buildings on the opposite side of the court he had crept, keeping behind that which would afford him shelter until he had gained the position in which we see him.

With every movement of Inez, and with every flash of the jewels, the eager, wistful look deepened upon the face of the villain, and blended with that which bespoke the depravity of the soul, while his hand played nervously with a long, murderous looking knife which he carried but half concealed in his garments.

Evidently he would have slain her without the least hesitation, to have possessed himself of the wealth she was all unconsciously displaying to his eager eye.

That to rob the house or her, was his intention, there could be no doubt. With his body half hidden by the shrubbery which grew beneath the window, he remained motionless, but with his eyes fixed upon the jewels.

And so the sun went down, and the golden light died out, and the shadows of night began to usurp its place.

Still Inez sat by the window as she had done for the hour past. But her eyes were no longer fixed upon her jewels, but out through the window to catch the first glimpse of her lover, who would come with the first rays of the white moonbeams falling upon the grounds without.

The villain beneath the window did not try to look into the room now. He dared not do it for fear he should be detected. Once the girl had started as he had done so, and he was afraid he had been seen, but as she remained quiet he thought he was mistaken.

Darkness now gathered fast about the house. The light of day had faded out, but away in the east the white light was gathering fast, telling that the moon would soon be above the horizon.

The two watchers noted this, but with what different thoughts and emotions. Inez with joy, for it would bring her lover to her side; and the villain saw in it a signal for him to be up and at work while the gloom lasted. Would he possess himself of the jewels he must do it before the surroundings should be flooded with moonlight.

To do it, he must sacrifice her, for he had waited

But now he must force an entrance into the hand upon the necklace which adorned her snowy room, or it would be too late.