In an instant Elma regained the self-possession which had forsaken her. She prevented his concluding the sentence.

"I-it is that I-I do not desire to marry. Then, as she caught his searching eye, she added, "Not while I feel as I do at this moment.”

For a brief space the tragedian sat pondering.

"God forgive me if I commit an ungenerous action!" he said. "Many men have been guilty of such deeds when passion gained the mastery over their judgment, and they could accept no other guidance. I fear myself!"

After a longer silence, he added: "Elma, I will but ask one sacrifice from you one which, perhaps, I have no right to demand; for, though your mother joined our hands, I must relinquish you, if your heart does not ratify that solemn compact. I fear the effect upon my own mind, were I to give you wholly up. I ask but one promise from you; I would pray you to attach your name to a contract which my eyes can look upon and drink in comfort from, when I feel something dangerous battling within me; when I have cause to fear that

'My blood begins my safer guides to rule,

And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way.'

Will you promise me never to give your hand, while I live, without my consent?"

"Yes, gladly," replied Elma, without hesitation. She rose and placed upon the table materials for writing. Mortimer dashed off a few lines, and handed

her the paper; she perused it, subscribed her name, and returned it with a bright smile.

A sound from the inner chamber sent Elma to her father's bedside. He was awake. His first inquiry was for Mortimer, who immediately answered in person.

Mr. Ruthven begged his daughter to retire. Mortimer asked permission to watch beside his friend all night; the proposition was received with grateful acquiescence.

Elma sank to rest with a lighter heart than had throbbed in her bosom since the death of her mother. She was spared the utterance of lip-vows unechoed by her soul; she was saved from the commission of that legal sin which daily stains the lives of thousands. She asked not that the yearnings of her spirit might be accomplished; their fulfilment lay with the Great Ruler of events. Whatever was best for the perfecting of her spiritual state, whatever would promote its healthfulness here and progression hereafter, that would surely be. In this confidence she was content.

When she reëntered her father's chamber, at an early hour the next morning, she found him conversing in a cheerful tone with Mortimer.

"Behold my physician, and the effects of his mys tical power," was Mr. Ruthven's greeting, as he pointed to Mortimer.

With an affectionate frankness which she had never evinced towards him before, Elma placed her hand in that of the tragedian, and looked in his face with tender gratitude.

"Our project, tell her our project, Gerald, while I spare speech," said Mr. Ruthven, hilariously.

"We only wait for your consent, Elma; but the plan is your father's. He says that Dublin and familiar scenes recall old memories, which have grown painful to him since your mother left us; that his health is broken; that he desires to travel, but he is too feeble to travel without —— a a friend."

"A son a son a dear son!" interrupted the old man, warmly.

True, a son,—at least, one who will ever delight in performing a son's duties. He proposes a round of engagements in England and Scotland, for you, Elma, and myself."

"Assisted

assisted by me, when I have strength,

as I will have," added the invalid.

"Of course, assisted by your father, when his health permits. We will travel through the British provinces-"

"Perhaps go to London; no fear of Elma's not being appreciated there. Gerald has had so many solicitations from London managers, and it would be of such an advantage to you, child!"

Mortimer's countenance fell. He was unwilling to thwart the old man's whims or wishes. He had invariably declined all overtures from the metropolis.

"Time enough to decide about that, my dear father," said Elma, for she saw that it gave Mortimer pain to utter a denial.

“Then you consent, my child?'

Willingly, if we can obtain the permission of Mr. Villars; we are under contract to him for the rest of the season. ""

“I have a douceur to make him yield up his claims," replied Mortimer. "Trust me, that matter can be arranged."

And it was arranged, though not without some difficulty, for Elma had become of sterling value to the theatre. But Mortimer conducted the transaction with the manager, and what arguments he used did not transpire.

Mortimer's engagement had commenced on Monday; he had absented himself four nights,- Saturday evening alone remained. Upon that night he appeared with Elma. More than once he fancied that her eyes strayed to the box where, as usual, Lord Oranmore sat, but he was now fully convinced that their direction was accidental.

On Monday, Gerald Mortimer, with Mr. Ruthven and his daughter, started for a provincial tour.

CHAPTER V.

Provincial Engagements. — Mr. Ruthven's Dissertations on Represented Villany.—Unpaid Performances in the Boxes of the Theatre. — The Surprise. Lord Oranmore and Mr. Edmonton. Painful Effects of her Father's Intelligence upon Elma. — Mortimer's Solicitation for her Confidence.- Gloom of the Tragedian. Elma's Disturbed Equanimity. Leon

ard Edmonton's Visit. - His Character and Views. A Betrayal. The Forgotten Contract.- Happiness Renounced.

They

To

We do not purpose step by step to follow Mortimer and Elma's career in the provinces. were everywhere received with enthusiasm. these audiences the tragedian was already famil iar. He brought Elma before them with exultant pride.

Mortimer's habitual eccentricity ceased to be painfully manifested. The erratic comet now moved in a fixed orbit. She was the sun around which he revolved with steady light. Managers, whom he had hitherto kept in a constant state of doubt and fear, rejoiced, and sat beneath their (painted) vineyards and fig-trees in peace.

No word of love ever fell from Mortimer's lips, no allusion to the contract he held, no half-breathed hope for the future. The blissful present filled life's goblet to the brim, and mirrored in its sparkling juices but the day and the hour.

Mr. Ruthven's eager desire once more to tread