The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 7, 1904, Page 2

10 button them maladreitly. The great w over, then! She had fafled. iis solituges were before tried to answer bravely, but at wae husky dnd her lips dry. s the truth,” she sald at last, “the sruth; I came to you because I isewherc. There is no need to hing more, I think?" t the slightest, Miss Venn. I wish wou better fortune. You have the for the stage but not the Frankly, the employment that I owld offer you s not such as you 14 care to take. Ycur better in- stinet, your education, would compel u to revoit agairst it. I am led to for your own sake. If eave me your address, it is just possible that I may communicate u in. Do not rely upon it, € as a possibility. Your e interests me, and I will do what I “Thank you very much,” off her glove again, she h ke offered her and and ess upon a per. Another applicant the room before she hod nd receiving an abrupt dis- cressed the bare stage again t of the day. The throng of ssed close in the cor- the stout lady still aired her bib- grievanc No one spoke to er or so much as noticed her; and her side she went heat of the Strand was alone. Mouton the to ropical t she CHAPTER 11 She was alone, utterly alone. Of all those thousands who went hurrying eastward, westward, of all the tollers, all the idiers, what was her trouble to any cne? Esther, indeed, believed that it all, the end of ot ngglect and ¥, ouse; of the strife which had car ek her fortune ¢ shillings the rent of she had no d of which was with- of tri- ago ing that aple empl pen to a cultured & th 1 the winter ch city. An stepfat? whoese pov- had made her home in- ted her to go to Lon- or t. Even at nt of failure, pride that servitude. pta would she reap. need be uffered d end her s g the Str ng for her 0k in the confect roof when night her an effort. d to stand motionless, a befriending door Every was e step cost s Park she sat the water's edge and uttered which was wrung from her dc? Dear God, what hful dog, pressed close to ke one who knew her for many minutes she sat ¢ held close to her own, sc of that - mld wh 1 she had failed . Scarcely a voice of Lon- spoke to her in the -parks. ng seagulls circled about her with laughing i the wanderin first time, nger was waited to at the hing in his onfidence, and she He was exceeding- were fault- of the man not as one is at- ks, but the and will, her ever seen a pair of eyes which could at once express so0 much kindness quick n her trust. She was 1 any way alarmed. voice was a pleasure to and tracted her mere good lox ness of force most humble pardon for s Venn."” She start when she heard her own . and put her band upon Mouton’s ¥ you,’sir,” she said. about to, I hope. My Xavier. 1 have taken low you from the thea- bat to say, was 25d not a little embarrassed. ranger, again apologizing, seated elf upon the bench and began to speak quickly. “I have fcllowed you from the thea- T ause 1 believe that I can help 1. “Forgive me, I was in r during your interview with Otto Hemining. I heard you sing—a very prett , Miss Venn; dut it must be tr: I heard you say that ¥ou desire an engagemcnt in the thea- s me to = that you are not at: you are too sensitive. too clever, too ready to despise the trivialities of life., Your success will be made another way; it will be in an honorable employment which will give you pleasure. I came from the theater to offer it to you—in my service, in that also of my sister. You are wise enough and clever enough not to regard this as an impertinent Intrusion. I am sure you will permit me to continue.” He walted for her to speak; but ehe did not know what answer to make to him. Conflicting emotions of surprise and joy forbade her to express hersell as she wished to do. She sat with heightened color and beating heart, un- able to thank him or even to say “Yes.” He understood her difficulty; he did not misconstrue it. “You do not answer me,” he con- tinued. “I appreciate your silence. London is a terrible city for those who fail, Miss Venn. The successful know little of its darker side; it is left to the unsuccessful to discover it. The Ca- sino Theater could write a history which few would have the courage to read. I heard many pitiful stories there this mornfg. They are better forgotten. Whatever we may do or wish, there will always be millions of unfortunates in the world whom we cannot help. The pleasure of helping even one should be a privilege. If you decide to help me, please regard it in that light.” She turned earnest eyes upon him; the compliment both surprised and pleased her. “To help you!" she cried, amazed. “Oh, no! help me “Not so, Miss Venn; nothing of the kind. Your loss of a possible career will be my gain. I am asking for all your time, your talent, your fidelity—I do not offer you any great reward. The only return I can make is the shelter of my sister’s house, a home, friend- ship, the society of cultured people. If you consent to my proposal, the rest will be easy. We will gettle it at home in five minutes. My carriage is over there by the palace gates.” Esther looked toward the spot he in- dicated and perceived there an elegant brougham drawn by two roan She feit instinctively that she wa t some crisis in her life. She be- lieved with the religious faith of her childhood that this encounter had been foreordained for her salvation and se- curity. Willing to say “Yes,” and to say it from her very heart, neverthe- ain prudence restrained her. d this man come to her? r would he lead her? There was it is you who are offering to so much to ask h She did not know how te begin, fearing greatly that a question might give offense. ¢ “Your is very kind,” she said, offer y. “Will you think me un- f T ask you something?" “You have every right to do so.” “You speak of emplcyment in your sister's house. What should I be ex- pected to do there?” “You would be expected to assist a man who is try to do what he can for the human r: ecially for your ce— ou are a doctor; is it in cennec- pre arms upon the broad bony cane and looked a ucross the waters. 1 not a doctor—I am a pupil. My page is not in the written book, it the light, the humanity sarth is my school, the university. 1 do not s ¥ bodies; I seek to know their minds. All that the field of na- ture can give for the happiness of mankind, that is my subject. No, Iam not a doctor, Miss Venn—I am a child, groming blindly for the light which is hidden.” en’'s “Ard you think that I could be of service to you in your studies, sir?” “I am sure of it. That is why I am here. Consider, you are familiar with boc bocks are meat and drink to me You like beautiful things—I can- not 1li without them. You are cast out, a stranger in this city—I am an exile from my home and country. You have talent to offer—I have money to buy. Is it not what the worid calls ss? Let us begin with that. Business first and friendship after- ward, yes, it must be friendship after- ward, Miss Venn.” e hand upon her arm = foliow him. When Esther looked up, she beheld a pair of kindly eyes which seémed to say, I have need of you Mouton, her dog, id his shaggy head upon the strang- nee and began to make friends m. She accepted the omen and up her mind without further de- “I will go and see your sister,” she d CHAPTER IIL the gates 2; and a footman, ery, summoned it n the doctor appeared. Esther wag accustomed to the for: and ex- ed politeness with which Doc- Xavier now treated her; indeed. had never ridden in such a carriage re, and her sensations were those which she could neither describe nor wholly enjoy. Had she been quite sure of the wisdom of the step she was tak- ing, the experience would have been al- together pleasurable; but the dffer had come to her with such dramatic sud- denness, it was so surprising and unex- pected, that she neither realized it nor believed altogether in its good faith. True, the immediate necessity, the dreadful despair which had tormented her an hour ago, were already of the past and forgotten. She was going to a home, whatever it might have in store for her. No longer would it be neces- sary to scheme for her daily bread in the garret which sheltered her. Grate- ful always, she was very grateful for this respite. The excitement of the journey fascinated her and was not to be resisted. Again and again she asked herself, “Where are we going; what does he really want of me?” Dortor Xavier, on his part, said nothing to abate this curiosity. He treated her from the first with a deference to which she was quite unaccustomed. The polished manners, the courteous phrases of the born gentleman pleased her and were nct to be resisted. Her knowledge of men hitherfo had been gained from the provincial eity. This man was unlike any other she had known. She could not imagine her title o his homage and regard. He ad- dressed her as one no less learned than himself. “We think alike,” he said, while they drove rapidly northward toward Ox- ford strcet and Marylebone. “I can see that we observe nature from the same standpoint; it is a good beginning and will help us. You, at this present mo- ment, are telling yourself how beau- tiful the park is looking; I am saying that it would be beautiful if thefe were no peeple in it. Reflect how men and sk bef. THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNRAY CALL. women are robbing the world of beau- ty to-day. They multiply and spread; the city thrusts out Its arms; the woods, the rivers, the pastures perish. In time this England will be one stif- ling city. Those who love solitude will find it after many days. A thousand years ago a forest thrived on this very spot. You could have built a hut and lived a week without seeing a man. Nowadays, there are twenty families in the hut and a man must go far afield if he would be away from other men. We shall make the journey together and study as we go. I will show you solitudes of mountain and valley which years of travel and labor have pur- chased. The book of rature is in many volumes, Miss Venn; few-: read it through. We should be all the better if we did. We should not write such stuff as that—we should despise it!” He took a yellow-backed volume from the leather-case before him and turned its pages scornfully. It was a work upon the decadence of the cen- tury; the triumph of a gloomy German. This fellow has gone to the letter 8," the stranger went on; “he writes of the human swamp. He should have begun at' A, and written of the art of life, which thinking men make their own. If you showed him the sun, it would blind him. We live in an age which does not like the sunshine. The majority is always looking downward, backward; but the new generation will lift its eyes to the heavens, it will rend the veil and enter the unknown. If it no longer believes in death, it will be because science has taught it that life is eternal, indestructible the spirit of the celestial scheme. I am a pupil, but those that come after me will be the masters quickly Let us help them to come It is possible to do so!” Esther had never heard any one talk like this. She did not realize at first, perhaps, how much the personal mag- netism of the speaker attracted her, or how very closely she was listening to him; but she was conscious of a desire to listen and of a sense of mental in- feriority which she had rarely experi- ¢énced in the presence of any other man. Her suspicion 'that the doctor talked merely to avoid her own curi- osity was quickly put aside; for his earnestness convinced her, and she could not resist the spefl of his voice. For that matter, the journey was all too short; and when the carriage stopped, she had quite forgotten her doubts. It remained for the house it- self to awaken them. Esther knew little of London, and had lost her reckoning in the excite- ment of an experience so new; but she was aware that the carriage had crossed Oxford street and thence had driven mnorthward toward Regent's Park. When at last it stopped, they were at the doors of a low-pitched house which stood behind high walls and was shut in by heavy wooden gates. A little garden faced the door and displayed a wealth of common gillyflowers and swect-smelling shrubs. In shape as many dwellings round abcut Esther's sharp eyes at once observed in what way the doctor's house differed from them. It had no windows, she said; at least the win- dows were all bricked up. This cir- cumstance of itself troubled her not a little, and she could nct imagine the reason of it. 'Why should any one fear the sunlight, a scientist of all others! She was still trying to satisfy herself, when the doctor, standing at the car- riage door, surprised her by antici- pating the question. “You are wondering why I have no windows” he asked, with a lgugh. “Well, come Inside and I will show you.” B He held out his hand, and she en- tered the house with him. An elderly butler, English and well trained, took his master’s hat and cane and asked him if he had lunched. Esther heard the carriage driving away on the gravel path and then the heavy oaken door was shut with a clang behind her. She trembled a little at the sound, for she had never seen so curious a hall as that in which she now stood; the vision of the garden beyond was like that of fairyland. “You are anxious about my win- dows,” sald the doctor, lightly; “well, you see, we like an eastern light, Miss Venn, and make one. It is not pleasant to have neighbors who count the days when your curtains go to the wash! Observe! you have never seen the suh- light shine so softly—is it not beauti- ful?” . Esther perceived now that the house was built in -the Italian style—a. qua- drangle about a spacious garden. Two great windows lighted the hall; but they were uplike any windows she had ever seen or read of. An exquisite glass of the faintest roseate hue per- mitted the rays of light to stream down through a device of crystal and green leaves, ‘so cunningly placed that the whole apartment glowed with the gentle radiance of the softest tints, more restful to the eye, more pleasing than any light that could be imagined. Elsewhere all was fantastic and sur- prising. Masterpleces of grt caught own and welcomed her with quite ef- fusive pleasure. . “So you have come to help my brother—you cannot think how glad I am. Esther Venn—Esther Venn, oh, what a pretty name! And you are tired, my dear, I can see that you are tired. Come upstairs and let us begin to know each other. I'm sure you are just dying for your lunch!™ ‘She would not hear a denial, and led the way upstairs to a pretty bedroom, from whose windows the garden of roses and the fountain dreamily splashing in the sunlight were more plainly to be seen. Of other houses there was not a trace. Esther might have been in an eld French chateau a hundred miles from cities and men. My brother loves beautiful things,” Julia said, helping her to take off her hat, and pouring water for her in a basin c¢f the daintiest French china. “He must have them wherever he Is. The garden is his own creation. It is only a little thing, but in Spain and France he Wwill show _you others. Everything in this house is here be- cause it is beautiful. He"devotes his fortune to the study. I will show you some of his tregsures afterward. You are tired now, and there is the lunch gong.” Musical bells chimed softly from the halls below,"an octave deep and sonor- ous and pleasing, like the chimes from an Italian campanile. Esther had little preparation to make, and she tidied herself quickly, and said that she was ready. She felt that she ought to be ashamed of her shabby black gown; but the kindness of these people, their simplicity and friendship, forbade any thought of that kind, and .she went MBIFEASE 70 ST DOWN I OTTEN I T the rays of electric lights, cunningly placed, and showed their finest details. The mats were Eastern and of sur- prising softness. Flowers stood every- where; the rarest orchids, the loveliest blooms, so perfectly chosen, so artis- tically miatched, that the color-scheme was never marred or vulgarized. R<- ther sald that she had entered a won- derland. A fountain splashed in the garden shed a delicious perfume upon the air. Her weariness, her hunger, left her at the door. . The very silence was bewitching. London seemed so far away. When the doctor spoke again, she started at the sound of his voice. “I can see that you like my house,” he said, well pleased. “Women are al- ways the children of first impressions; and you are no excepticn. When we have had lunch, I will show you some of my curiosities; but first I must in- troduce you to my sister; she is very much alone here, and will be glad of a companion."” He struck a gong twice while he spoke, and the reverberations had hardly died away when a well-dressed woman descended the stairs and came up te him with outstretched hands. Esther judged that she was about 30 years old, a brunette, with a Spanish type of face, an abundance of black hair and the whitest of teeth which showed a little Drominently when she smiled. Her eyes were deep set and dark and her manner buoyant and al- most girlish. Doctor Xavier kissed her affectionately and then led her for- ward to Esther, “My sister Julta," he said; “this is Miss Venn, Miss Esther Venn. You must learn to know each other quickly —vyou will have so many hours to pass together.” Juila took Esther’s hands in both her A _ZZITTER s with a confidence which urprised her® Luncheon, she overed, was already served in the dining-room upon the greund floor. The scheme of this rcom was entirely white, with chairs and curtains and carpets of the richest crimson. Here, as in the hall, bewitching effects of light were contrived by rantastic win- dows. A few sketches hung upon the walls, and each had its own lamp above that its finer work might not be lost. The glass was Venetian, green as a tulip’'s leaf. Esther noticed how brightly tae silver shone, and how rarely chased was the great goblet by the Dottor’s plate. The whole room impressed her with a sense of luxury carried to the last point, but not vul- garly nor obtrusively. The wine she drank was the golden Valdepenas; it stimulated her flagging energy, encour- aged her sense of happiness; and re- newed her unspoken bxpression of grat- itude. What had she done to deserve thig change of fortune, so sudden, so supreme? But an hour ago she be- lieved that her life had been lived; and now a young girl's courage lifted her up to new scenes of success and ambi- tion. How she would work for such friends as these! How she would serve them! Ah, if she had known what days awaited her in the Doctor's house! The talk was all of commen things during the luncheon mour. Doctor Xavier ate little, and drank less; but he had a fund of anecdote which was inexhaustible; and he gossiped now of Europe, though much of it was beyond her understanding. She gathered from it that he had been a traveler in many countries, and that his residence in England was but accident, which, in some way, he lamented. He spoke of the possibility that he would not re- main long in the city; and, turning to her, he asked her how she would like to go to Spain. “It i1s my country,” he said, “al- though I am an exile at this moment. My English was learned in America at Harvard University—to which I owe my education. I say education, but no man is educated at a university. His education is Nature’'s task. She teaches him every day while he lives. I have asked you to my house to help me in such self-imposed studies. We will charter a university together. My sis- ter shall be the bursar and feed us.” ,“It is the only merit he allows me, said Julia gayly. “If T wish to make my brother angry, I ask him what he will have for dinner. Oh, my dear, just think what we women have suffered because of men's dinmers! You are lucky to be in the laboratory! I emvy Francis his books sometimes.” “And yet she will not read them for five minutes together,” said the, Doctor, not unkindly. “ There ure no novels there, Miss Venn. Beautiful princes do not expire at the feet of languishing damsels. I have not a single book which bewails the loss of the baro- ness’ diamonds, or extols the gentle- man who stole them. Pity my misfor- tunes! I told you that I was a pupil; it is for you to teach me.” He turned the subject with a laugh, and went on to ask his sister of -her day and its programme. Would she be at home to dinner? Was she going to the theater afterward? As for Esther she would, perhaps, be glad to rest to- day.: The Doctor suggested a ham- mock in the garden amid the roses; tea should be served there at five o'clock. Esther must ask for anything she wished; the whole house was at her disposal. When he had suggested other plans for her comfort, he withdrew to his library, and left the girls together. Julia, in spite of herself, appeared to be more at ease in his absence; she took Esther by the hand, and went out into the garden with her. It must have been three o'clock then, and the delicious hush of the summer afternoon was everywhere to be felt. Esther thought the garden not less beautiful than she‘'had imagined fit. The grass, she said, was the softest she had ever trodden upon. The masses of roses were bewildering; rare blooms, some of them familiar, some unfa- miliar, shed a delicious fragrance upon the balmy cir. The fountain cast a spray of an unknown essehce which cooled the atmosphere and added to its perfume. The silence was intense, and in some way almost unnatural. You could not hear any sound at all from the streets around. The quaint windows of the pavilion leoked down upon you from every side. It might have been an uninhabited house; and yet Esther quickly” discoveréd that it was not. Indeed, she was still gazing curiously at these oddly-shaped win- dows, when a face appeared suddenly at one of them, and instantly arrested her curiosity. It was the face of a young woman, a hideous, distorted and yet singularly pitiful face. For an in- stant the figure appeared at the case- ment, and was then dragged back as though by an unseen hand. Esther, she knew not why, started at this sud- den apparition. It was just as though a voice had said to her, “Beware!” ‘Who was this girl? What was she do- ing in the house? Now, it chanced that Julia still ‘wrestled ‘with the ropes of the ham- mock during this momentary scene; and so both her companion’s astonish- ment and the subject of it” were not observed by her. Esther, troubled as she was, had already made up her mind to say nothing about it. A shrewd wit told ‘her that if she were really in dan- ger confession would not help her. She could not imagine that such a man as Doctor Xavier would trap a young girl for any felonious purpose. Neverthe- less, there was something about the house and its people which baffled her understanding and awakened her sus- picions. Terrible as her situation had been but an hour ago, she was not quite sure that this change was for the better, and: very greatly apprehensive and doubtful, she listened to the merry Julia and her gossip. “There's one thing we're expected to do in this house, and that is to make ourselves comfortable,” she sald, sink- ing down upon a pile of cushions and arranging her books upon her knee. “The Doctor believes in the art of life, and while it gives me what I want I am his faithful disciple. You do not know what a clever man he is, dear. I often read in the papers about other scientists, and wonder if they know half as much as Franecisco Xavier. Beautiful things have been the passion of his life. Day and night he lives for thém. There is not any beautiful art of which he does not know something. Those sketches you saw in the dining- room, they were all his work. He h: written music which has been per- formed in the theaters of Milan and Paris. While you and I sleep here this afternoon he will be in his labtoratory and perhaps—you never can tell—dis- covering something which might as- tonish the world to-morrow. It is my misfortune, I try to interest myself in ail these things, but I am just a help- less creature, and it cannot be helped. You, I believe, will take my place; I know he wishes it. A woman can help sometimes where a man is useless.” “I shall do what I can to be useful,” said Esther, a little eagerly. “It was very kind of Doctor Xavier to offer me this engagement, and I am only too desirous to prove myself grateful. But, you see, he has never asked me what I can do, and I fear I'm not as clever as he thinks me. My education has been all my own. I taught myself in the library which my stepfather used to keep at Exeter. ¥xcept for this visit to London, I have never been any- where or seen anything. Of course, I could write Doctor Xavier's letters and, perhaps, help him with his books; but I really have no talents, Miss Julia. I am not a clever girl."” “The Doctor doesn’'t want a clever girl; he wants a willing one. Your only duty is to obey him, my dear. ‘Whatever he asks you, obey him al- ways. He is very kind and good; but I never wish you to see him angry. Remember, when he is cross, that he has suffered much. His own country has not treated him well. I do not think he will ever go back there. “ou and I must make his home happy in England. I am sure we gan do that if we try.” Esther had hoped that she would speak more of the Doctor, and par- ticularly of her own duties; but Julia Xavier could never talk for more than five minutes together on any one sub- ject; and now she went rambling off to speak of theaters and singers and of the world of restless fashion wherein her own part was so well played. They spent the sunny afternoon In such care- less talk, and at five o'clock tea was served to them in an arbor by the lawn. Esther did not see Doctor Xavier again until dinner time; and although she locked up often to the windows of the pavilion, the figur which had so frightened her did reappear. She fell to wonderin if it had been merely her ima Nevertheless, the impression She knew' that there was some of this house she had yet to Perhaps In her heart she belicv it was an awful secret at las CHAPTER IV Madame Julia, as all the Househo'a called her, had insisted upen send for Esther’s luggage early in the noon, and she would not hear of an one but herself arranging with landlady. From the first she played the part of an elder sister, who wished to put her guest entirely at ease; deed, she lent Esth for dinnmer and lau that at last it had owner. “Do not thank me,” she said; “you look =0 pretty in it. Ah, my dear, a thing it is not to be anxious abe your figure! Mine quarre with my dressmaker every time we meet; I haven’t, positively, the energy to scold it! T am just born for an armchair and Mudie's!"” She went on to say thaj a maid should be erngaged especrally for E ther; but, meanwhile, Georgine; own girl, would do what she could. In the bedroom, everything that a woman of fashion might desire was laid out Mirrors paneled the doors of am old French wardrobe; little lamps, ningly shaded, flattered the plain and enhanced the prettiness of the more fortunate tenants. - The brushes were heavily wrought in silver; bottles of essence, pots of cream, unknown prepa- rations, of which Esther had not the smallest need, littered the table before her glass. She dressed herself with such simplicity as she could, combing out that soft brown hair which was the best of her beauty, and confefsing to herself, perhaps, that her eyes had leclared dd a worthy cun- already regained something of brightness, her cheeks of their In the drawing room she found Doctor Xavier, dre 1 as any civilized Eng- lishman at such an how and,. there being no othe dinner without ests, The meal wa simple, but served with necess B Tw dishes, at tasted be neverthele find that th in a way qu From a s y to one of and >ntal exh re to talk came naturally; herself, much to her astonishment, possessed of an e quence of e had never dreamed. The seemed mnot a her learning and h turding the subjec her from boc of-an old diplomati pose to setve. In afterward Julia sang to the full contralfo voice which vatorles both of Leipsic and Paris had trained. Esther had rarety heard any one sing With such delicate phrasir or such depth of expression; and wh Doet little s Doctor Xavier himself took a in his hand and began to play ¢ Chopin’s nocturnes, even her un ear could recognize the maste and by, ‘the Doctor put the instr down for a little while that he talk to her of the music of souther countries, but chiefly of Spain. “That which we call the finest mus he ‘said, “is a matter or temperame I hear the Swan Song, but it does not move me, because I am not a Saxo but I would not belittle it. The who belittles great things has no i stinct of greatness. 1 admit that the German music is great, dbut I would give it all for one bolero from my own Spain. If we are true patriots it must always be the same. Put an’ Engl man in the wilds of Amertca and ask him what the wandering minstrel is to play—shall it be the ‘Song of the Even- ing Star,” or just your ‘Auld Lang Syne." Ah, I seem to know what he would say!™ He took up the violtn again and be- gzn to play an old-time Spanish dance. The music held him as by some magic spell he could not resist. were transparent and easily to be read —love of country, the pathos of e X the futility of regret. In the end, an ger appeared suddenly to master him, and he ceased abruptly and threw the fiddle from him. “Ah, ‘my poor Spain!” he cried; “if you will not have me living, you shali have me dead.” Julia viewed this distress with some alarm: but she not fry to explain it to Esther. Seating herself at her brother’s side, she took his hand in both’ of hers and conve very rapidly in the S He heard her at first refucta with some interest; until, at took her suddenly ia tis arms and kissed her. “Yes, yves,” he said in English, “the We day will come—I am hastening it will go together.” Esther viewed this little scene with trepidation, for it suggested some new mystery of a house which already had been fruitful in mystertes. Sk quite wise enough, however, to indifference, and. going to the she pl: yed a nocturne ptanissin the others might not be emba by her presence. When she | again, Doctor Xavier had left and she was alone with mis sis appeared anxious to apologize “My brother is very brave,” “but these years of exile much. He was once a great m T Spain, my dear—not in Spain exactly that is, but in his own kingde Cadl. The people would gladly have him back,” but he has quarreled wi his prince, and I fear it will never made up again. You, perhaps, r We are heip him where T am useless. both hoping that. He asked you to his house because he beneves = much in your cleverness. I must not tell you to-night exactly at you ¢ do be- cause he wishes to tell yor N s but believe me that he very good and gentle, and will never bring you to any harm. You will serve him faith- fully, dear Esther, you will do it for my sake.” Esther did not at all understand how a young and penniless girl, whose edu- cation was her own, and who had so little knowledge, even of her own country, could help a stranger in such