think he would never have left us, only a gentleman took a fancy to him; but we have not seen anything of him for years."

Bessie spoke hurriedly, and broke off with some abruptness. "But," said Fanchea, "when I met you at the Park— it be that my friend was with you then ?"

Could

"No, he was gone away, and I did not know where," said Bessie, crimsoning at the recollection of the difficulty of that time. "When I thought you might be the child he was looking for, I wrote to him to tell him where you were; but I could not find out his address.”

"Oh, thank you; it was good of you to take so much trouble," cried Fanchea; and Bessie relieved at being questioned no further regained her composure and proceeded to tell everything she knew about

Kevin.

"I married soon after I saw you at the Park," she said, “and went with my husband to Canada, and so I had no chance of hearing anything more about your friend. Father wrote to us lately, begging us to come home and he would help us to settle comfortably in England. We were doing well where we were, but we came to please father, and that is how we are coming to settle here. Father tells me now that he has had a letter from Mr. Kevin, and that he has written a book. I'm sure I do not wonder, for books and poetry were his only delight."

"And you do not know where he wrote from ?" asked Fanchea.

"I do not remember, but I can easily ask father. I am sure he will be willing to send you the letter."

"Bessie, you are a darling," said Fan, throwing her arms round her neck.

"John-my husband-thinks so," said Bessie, laughing, and winking a tear from her eyelashes; and Fan could not guess with what fervent satisfaction and pride these words were spoken out of a heart that had suffered its trial long ago.

"He must be a monster if he did not. But, Bessie, was my friend very anxious to find me?"

"He could think of nothing else. It made one sorry to see him; and I helped him all I could. We went to theatres, and music-halls, and every kind of singing places. He always said he would know you by your voice."

Here Mrs. Webb appeared, followed by Captain Rupert, who announced that the storm was over, and the horses at the door. Fan hurried away to prepare for departure, and was soon riding homeward with Captain Wilderspin.

Very few words were spoken between them during the ride. Rupert could not bring himself to congratulate the young girl upon the discovery she had made, fearing it involved the ruin of his own hopes. The story he had heard had sounded to him like a page out of a fairy

tale, and it seemed cruel of Fate to contrive circumstances so exceptional for the purpose of robbing him of his coveted happiness. Upon his exertions to find a low-bred and vulgar Kevin he had rested his expectation of winning Fanchea's affections; but he could do nothing to bring about her meeting with such a man as had just been described. Her little outbursts of gaiety as she rode along by his side, the larklike joy in her voice as she broke out into raptures about the beauty of the clouds, the landscape, anything that caught her eye and became for the moment transfigured by her own delight, annoyed him beyond measure, feeling, as he did, that the fact of his own existence had no part in producing her satisfaction. Yet his unresponsive gravity gave her a slight chill in the end. If he really had any regard for her, she thought, why could he not be glad in her joy?"

"I think you are not pleased at my good news," she said, looking at him wistfully, when he had lifted her down from her saddle. Captain Rupert turned pale, but smiled, and for all answer raised her little hand to his lips.

"She is such a child," he said to himself. "How can I confess to her that I am jealous? After all she looks on this Kevin as a brother. If I can win her for my wife beforehand, why should I not be satisfied to see them meet ?"

CHAPTER XIII.

FAN'S TRIUMPH.

THE signora was walking impatiently about the room, reflecting on the downfall of her own and Herr Harfenspieler's hopes. Another disappointment was about to be added to the many troubles of her life. She cast remorseful glances at the large canvas that stood in the corner, with its face to the wall. Had she carefully guarded her pupil instead of wrapping herself in foolish dreams, this great misfortune might have been averted.

"Oh me, oh me!" she moaned, "to think of all the care and pains we have lavished on her for nothing. Only that she may turn out a fine lady after all. Who could have imagined that Lord Wilderspin in making himself so nobly the friend of genius was but providing an unfortunate alliance for his heir ?"

The door flew open and Fan came in radiant.

"Mamzelle," she cried, springing to her side, "whether you like it or not, I cannot do without your sympathy. You must wish me joy."

The signora heaved a bitter sigh. "I cannot but wish you well. I have loved you too dearly for that. But the lady of Wilderspin must learn to be independent of so humble a person as myself."

"The lady?-oh, Mamzelle, you do not know what I mean. That is all over at least-nothing more has been said, and I had forgotten it."

"Forgotten!"

"Mamzelle, you do not know what I have heard to put everything else out of my head. Kevin is found."

"Kevin!" shrieked Mamzelle, feeling that this was, indeed, "out of the frying pan into the fire."

"Where is he?" she added, with an accent of despair.

"I do not know."

"You said he was found."

"He is in the world; he has been seeking for me; he is clever and learned and a gentleman. Is not that enough?”

"Quite enough for me," said the signora, tragically, "and I am glad to hear it is also enough for you."

"Ah, Mamzelle, had you never any childhood, any youth? Have you no recollections of early friends and home ?" "It is my duty to think above all of "My vocation is in the hands of Providence. Heaven will not ask to sacrifice all natural feelings as you would do."

'Fanchea, you are unkind."

your Vocation."

"I want to be kind, Mamzelle, and you will not let me. and I will not trouble you any more with my good news."

Kiss me,

And Fan went away to her room and had a thorough good cry. For a nature so sympathetic as hers to be solitarily glad is a trial; and she felt keenly the refusal of those around her to rejoice in her joy. She had early learned to keep her cares to herself, but to be happy in silence was a more difficult matter.

Lord Wilderspin and Herr Harfenspieler had almost quarrelled that afternoon on the subject of his lordship's weakness in yielding to his nephew's caprice.

"The child is the child of genius," said the professor. "A pedestal is awaiting her in the temple of Fame. Your lordship has generously chosen to put her there in her place; and why should you suffer the heir of your noble family to pluck her out of her proper niche, to the detriment of his own dignity?"

"Men of his position have married women already famous on the stage," growled his lordship. "It is better to take her artless and fresh, as she is."

"His fancy would pass away if "But I will not oppose him," shouted Lord Wilderspin, thinking you continued to oppose him." not of his nephew at all, but of the cruel redness round Fanchea's bright eyes.

"My lord, you are

"A fool?" said the old man, testily.

"I could not think of applying such an epithet to your lordship." said Herr Harfenspieler; and after that the two old men had sulked at each other for several hours. But as it is hard work sulking with an old and congenial friend in a lonely country house, they met in the evening as if nothing had happened.

So conscious, however, was each member of the party of something vividly present in the mind which could not be 'alluded to in speech, that conversation was difficult, and an unusual silence hung over the dinner-table. Afterwards music came to the rescue, and Fan's singing and the professor's violin-playing drowned a great deal of trouble for the moment. Having soothed himself into better humour by such accustomed means, Herr Harfenspieler bethought him of something to talk about which would have no sort of connexion with the difficulties of the hour.

"I have had a letter lately from my old pupil and young friend, the Baroness Ida Von Walden," he said.

"I hope she is growing more like a woman of flesh and blood than she used to be," said his lordship. "I remember her. A graceful creature, but demented about bogies and all sorts of uncanny rubbish.”

"She has a great deal of musical talent, and sang better than any one I ever knew, with so small and thin a voice."

"She had still less heart than voice. Her kinsman, young Honeywood, would have given his life for her; but she married an elderly tyrant at the bidding of her maniacal old father."

"She is a widow now. But you must not say she was altogether heartless. I have experienced her kindness and her affection."

"Well, do not let us quarrel again. Come here, Fan, and tell us whether it is better for a woman to sing or to have a heart."

"One need not hinder the other, need it?"

"An evasion, madam, an evasion."

"The baroness Ida will doubtless live to prove the truth of what our Fanchea has declared," said Herr Harfenspieler, drawing his bow across the strings. "Her castle is full of company, and Mr. Honeywood is one of the guests. But the person who evidently engages her attention the most is a young poet, the new one of whom we have all heard. I forget the name at this moment. What is his name, my lord?',

"I am not a reader of poetry," said his lordship, gruffly, but patting Fan's little hand which he held in his own, "and what is more, I do not believe in it. They never feel what they say. But it is good to hear of Madame Ida being foolish about anyone. Is the fellow an Englishman, and will she marry him?"

་

"He is an Irishman, from the Island of Saints,' as she puts it. But as to whether she will marry him, I cannot tell you that, my lord. She does not say one word that would justify me in saying so."

"Let us hope she will do something to keep herself happy," said

Lord Wilderspin. "It is all that was ever needed to make her charming."

"You are speaking of the Baroness Ida Von Walden," said Captain Rupert. "I always thought her charming. Who is this lucky fellow whom she admires ?"

"I cannot remember his name. But stay, she has sent me his book." Herr Harfenspieler left the room and returned with a book which he gave to Captain Rupert.

"Ah, I remember this," said Captain Rupert, turning over the leaves. "I am not a great reader of poetry, but some things in this volume won on me very much. Here, for instance, is what I call a delicious love-song. He glanced at Fanchea, taking in all the grace of the light, white-clothed figure, the dark little head and warm, sparkling face that leaned forward in the lamplight to listen; and then he read the poem aloud.

Sweet," said Herr Harfenspieler, "sweet! It ought to be set to music for our songstress."

Fan gazed around on her friends. Mamzelle had approached and listened; his lordship, with a preliminary grunt of protest, had given ear to the reading, and now stood silent, all under-lip and scowl. The poem had found a tender spot in every heart of the group, for there was that in the four faces which cannot be either affected or denied.

How strange, thought Fanchea, that their hearts should all bow to these words, and yet have so little sympathy for the mindful tenderness that had caused her joy to-day. Her own heart yearned to the comprehending soul that had so given a voice to her fidelity. She worshipped in silence the Master Spirit that had spoken to them all with one breath, in the language of each.

"That is the true voice," she said, impulsively, to Herr Harfenspieler. "Song can only be its echo."

"Nay, music is often its inspiration," said the Professor, jealously, while Captain Rupert looked on angry, enraptured, wondering at the look that this love-poem had called into her face. He realized in that moment the heights of her nature, and knew that to fail in exciting the highest devotion she was capable of would be to lose her altogether.

Her eyelashes wet with the tears of enthusiasm, Fan picked up the volume which Rupert had laid on the table, and turned over the leaves, seeking for more of that divine music whose vibrations were still thrilling in her brain. As she bent tenderly over the book towards the light, a soft radiance in her eyes and on her lips, Captain Wilderspin asked himself who would be the one to awake fully the ardent womanly soul he saw dawning to-night in her face.

Accidentally her eye fell on the title-page, and all at once a cry broke from her lips.