I came the other day upon the stone which bore the record of her name, her birth, her marriage, her death, and the inconsolable grief of her afflicted husband-who is now alive and merry with his third wife.

I was glad to be alone. I stretched myself on the grass. The evening was glowingly, gloriously hot. I heard the voices of singers. not far away, and the notes of a piano. I saw nothing but the unflecked sky of blue above my head, and the slender spiral vapour of my cigar. Was I happy? Was I miserable? Happy or miserable, those moments were ecstatic. Are not the sensations produced by extreme heat and extreme cold so much alike that the African brought for the first time into contact with snow fancies it has burnt him? I think there are pangs of delight and of pain-where the soul is the medium, not the nerves-which are not easily to be distinguished from each other.

I started at an approaching step. Lilla was close beside me; she looked pale, and much distressed. I jumped to my feet.

"I have been looking for you everywhere," she said; "I want you to take me home."

"Home so soon? Are you going home already?"

"Yes. I should like to, very much; if you don't mind leaving so early. Or I will wait longer, as long as you like, if you will promise to leave a little before the rest, and to come with me."

"Certainly, Lilla, when you please. But where is Lambert ?"

"Mr. Lambert? I don't know; at least, I saw him not long since." "Will Lambert not wish to see you home?"

"If you can't or won't come with me, Emanuel," she said petulantly, "if you must wait on somebody else, of course I must not worry you about me."

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Why, Lilla, my dear girl, you know very well I will go with you when you please. But I only thought—"

"Dear Emanuel, please don't think anything; at least, at present. Only do oblige me this once; I am so tired, and I want to get away." "We will go this instant."

"Thank you; that is kind. And I should like to get quietly out, quite unnoticed, if you please."

"This way, then."

I gave her my arm, and I felt her arm tremble on mine; and could feel that her bosom beat heavily as she leaned on me. Violet circles were round her eyes; and every time she spoke it seemed as if she must break into tears.

There were several hansoms at the door, in which some of our company had come. I meant to take one of them, and convey Lilla home in it. Young ladies don't usually go in hansoms, I believe, with young men; that is, where Respectability reigns. We had no such etiquette in our free and gladsome world. One of Lilla's special delights was, or used to be, a hansom.

But the gardens were full of company. There were many parties there as well as ours. Lilla and I, threading our way outward, were always coming on some brilliant group. It was significant of my poor young friend's state of mind, that she did not even cast a scrutinising glance at the dresses of the ladies. We hardly spoke at all.

I brought her into a narrow side-path between flowers and plants. We were nearly out now. Towards us there came a group of four or five ladies and gentlemen, straggling along as the width of the path allowed them. One voice struck on my ear, and I knew its sharp and strident tone. I knew it to be the voice of Lilla's uncle. Eminently disagreeable I thought such a meeting would be in a place so narrow that recognition could not be avoided. It was now too late to go back, so we drew up to let the group stream by.

Lilla saw her uncle. She coloured, and was a little confused. He did not seem particularly delighted at the meeting.

"Why, Lilla, you here?" He gave her his hand rather coldly. I had been standing silent and stiffly, looking at nothing and feeling highly uncomfortable.

"Yes, uncle; but I am going away now. I have asked this gentleman-don't you know Mr. Temple, uncle?-to take me home.” "Indeed! Yes.-How do you do, Mr. Temple?"

I made a formal acknowledgment of his enforced salutation, and in doing so I became conscious that the light of two deep, dark, soft eyes was turned full on me. I became conscious of it-I can use no other phrase-for up to this moment I had positively seen none of the group but Mr. Lyndon alone, and had never looked at the lady who was by his side, and who stopped when he did. But I felt that the light of those eyes was on me, and an electrical thrill ran through me, with which the blood rushed heavily and fiercely to my head, and the pulses of my heart seemed to stand still, and the grass for a moment flickered with changing colours, and the sinking sun appeared to reel in the sky.

me.

And looking up, I saw that Christina Reichstein stood before

Not my Lisette! Not my Christina! Beautiful, stately, in the full glow of developed loveliness-no longer a girl; nay, now that the westering sunbeams fell upon her face, I saw that there was something even of the melancholy beauty of a sunset in her own features and expression. Far more beautiful, far more stately, far more attractive, than when I knew her, but not with the fresh and passionate youth which was her exquisite charm long ago. Long ago! A whole life seemed to lie between that time and this. I thought there was something sad, something even of a prematurely wasted look about those glorious eyes. Youth, and early love, and early struggle lay buried in those lustrous hollows. They were as mirrors to me, in which I saw my own dead youth and disappointed love. I turned

towards her, and our eyes met and rested upon each other in an instant of unspeakable emotion never to be forgotten in this world. Christina recovered her composure in a moment.

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"We are fortunate, Mr. Lyndon," she said, in her clear musical voice, with the old dash of foreign accent still perceptible in it,we are fortunate in not having left so soon as I wished; for we meet --at least, I do-two unexpected friends. Your niece I know already, though she seems to have quite forgotten me; and in this gentleman I meet a very old friend."

She gave her hand first to Lilla, and then to me. Not the lightest, faintest pressure of her glove indicated to me that I was anything to her but an old acquaintance.

"Indeed," said Mr. Lyndon, drily, "I did not know that you were acquainted with this- ah, this gentleman, Mr. Temple, before."

"Did you not? O yes; we were old acquaintances ever so many years ago. How long ago, Mr. Temple ?"

"Several centuries ago at least, Madame Reichstein."

"Yes; it must be many, many centuries ago," she said, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

"A good way of evading any confession of the number of years," remarked Mr. Lyndon, with a short dry laugh." If you are going home, Lilla, I think you had better come with us."

"Thank you, uncle. If you can take me, I shall be very glad; and then Mr. Temple need not be dragged away to take care of me."

"No; we need not trouble Mr. Temple to leave so early. Come,

Lilla."

"Good-night, Emanuel," said Lilla, holding out her hand to me. “I am so much obliged to you for offering to come with me; and so glad that I have not to take you away."

"Then I think I shall not go just yet," said Madame Reichstein. "I will go in Mrs. Levison's carriage; she is not leaving for a few minutes. I have not had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Temple for so many years that I cannot leave him now, at least until I have exchanged a few words with him, and told him how and when he may see me again. Will you give me your arm, Mr. Temple?"

I offered her my arm without a word. Lilla looked at us both with wondering eyes. This was all the wildest of mystery to her. She forgot for a moment apparently even the trouble that was oppressing her, in the surprise of seeing this unexpected acquaintanceship reveal

itself.

"Remember you promised to accept a seat in my carriage," said Lyndon. "We are in no haste; we can wait as long as you please."

"But I don't like the idea of anybody waiting for me. No, Mr. Lyndon; pray excuse me this once. Your niece, too, looks quite tired and ill, and I think the sooner you take her out of this the better."