sadness might easily have been mistaken by casual observers for bitter misanthropy. I have said he was about thirty, and though the handsome face was repellently cold and grave, it was difficult to believe that that smooth, fair brow had been for so many years uplifted for the handwriting of time. He looked just what he was, a baffling, fascinating mystery. You felt that his countenance was a volume of hieroglyphics which, could you decipher, would unfold the history of a checkered and painful career. Yet the calm, frigid smile which sat on his lip, and looked out defiantly from his deep-set eyes, seemed to dare you to an investigation. Mere physical beauty cannot impart the indescribable charm which his countenance possessed. Regularity of features is a valuable auxiliary, but we look on sculptured marble, perfect in its chiseled proportions, and feel that, after all, the potent spell is in the raying out of the soul, that imprisoned radiance which, in some instances, makes man indeed but "little lower than the angels." He paused in his echoless tread, and sat down once more beside his protegee. She had not changed her position, and the long lashes lay heavily on the crimson cheeks. The parched lips were parted, and, as he watched her, she murmured aloud: "It is so sweet, Lilly; we will stay here always." A shadowy smile crossed her face, and then a great agony seemed to possess her, for she moaned long and bitterly. He tried to arouse her, and, for the first time since the night she entered his house, she opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at him. "Are you in pain, Beulah? Why do you moan so?" "Eugene, I knew it would be so, when you left me." "Don't you know me, Beulah?" He put his face close to hers. "They killed her, Eugene! I told you they would; they are going to bury her soon. But the grave can't hide her; I am going down with her into the darkness--she would be frightened, you know." Making a great effort, she sat upright. Dr. Hartwell put a glass containing medicine to her lips; she shrank back and shuddered, then raised her hand for the glass, and, looking fixedly at him, said: "Did Mrs. Grayson say I must take it? Is it poison that kills quickly? There; don't frown, Eugene, I will drink it all for you." She swallowed the draught with a shiver. He laid her back on her pillow and renewed the iced-cloth on her forehead; she did not move her burning eyes from his face, and the refreshing coolness recalled the sad smile. "Are we on the Alps, Eugene? I feel dizzy; don't let me fall. There is a great chasm yonder. Oh, I know now; I am not afraid; Lilly is down there--come on." Her arms drooped to her side, and she slept again.