Marion Berkley: A Story for Girls

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XI.

  LA SOIREE MUSICALE.

  "Girls! what do you think's up?" exclaimed Sarah Brown, as she bouncedinto the library one afternoon. "Miss Stiefbach and Mr. Stein have justbeen having a long confab in the 'secret-chamber,' and they came outjust as I passed the door, and I heard Miss 'Stiffy' say, 'Yes, I knewyou would prefer Friday, so I ventured to invite them without seeing youagain; as yet the young ladies know nothing about it!' Now _I_ shouldlike to knew what in the world _it_ is."

  "Well, so should I!" exclaimed Julia Thayer. "What can she mean;'invited them,' and 'the young ladies know nothing about it.' She mustbe going to give a party."

  "Yes, that's it, you may be sure," said Marion; "she's going to give aparty, and she and Mr. Stein are going to lead the German. Won't theylook well dancing the 'deux-temps' together?"

  "O Marion, how perfectly ridiculous!" laughed Florence. "You know shecan't be going to have a party; but what can it mean?"

  "Are you sure you heard right, Sallie?" asked Grace Minton. "Why didn'tyou break your shoe-string and stop to tie it up; or do something orother to keep you there long enough to get something a little moresatisfactory?"

  "Why, I couldn't hang round the hall listening to what they said, couldI? But I know there is to be something going on here Friday; see ifthere isn't."

  "Yes, and Miss Stiefbach isn't going to say anything about it to usuntil the last moment, because she thinks our heads will be full of it,"ejaculated Marion. "I've a great mind to ask her myself."

  "If I was in the habit of betting, I would bet you anything that I knowall about it," remarked Georgie Graham, who had kept silent while theother girls were making their comments.

  "Oh, what is it?" asked Marion; "my principles and my purse too willstand a pound of candy."

  "And I another," cried Sarah.

  "Not so fast," replied Georgie. "I said _if_ I was in the habit ofbetting, but I never bet; it is very unladylike."

  "Granted!" cried Marion; "but please reserve your lecture for anothertime, and out with your secret."

  "I really don't know as I _ought_ to tell," said Georgie, as she countedthe stitches on her canvas in a provokingly cool way. "I knew it byaccident, and that is the reason I haven't spoken of it before."

  "Oh, if you got possession of it in the same way you have of severalother secrets here, I don't blame you for not wanting to tell of it,"retorted Sarah.

  "I don't know what you mean to insinuate, Sarah; but I heard of thisentirely by accident two weeks ago to-morrow," replied Georgie in thesame unmoved tone. "I was in the anteroom looking over an exercise whichmonsieur wanted me to correct, when I heard Mr. Stein and Miss Stiefbachtalking together in very low tones in the school-room. Of course it didnot occur to me that there could be anything private in what they weresaying, or I should have let them know I was there"--("Of course,"laconically remarked Marion)--"but when they had got through theirconversation Miss Stiefbach said, 'We will say nothing about it to anyone, as I wish it should remain a secret for the present;'--so I saidnothing."

  "Well, don't you _intend_ to say anything?" cried Sarah Brown; "now thatwe know there is something going on, don't you intend to tell us what itis?"

  "I really don't think it would be very honorable in me," rejoinedGeorgie, thoroughly enjoying her important position.

  "Don't trouble her, Sarah; we all know what her conscientious scruplesare. It would be a pity to have them disturbed," remarked Marion in acutting, sarcastic tone. "I can tell you what it all means in fiveseconds."

  "What is it?--tell us, do!" cried all, with the exception of Georgie.

  "Miss Stiefbach intends to have some sort of a musical spread nextFriday, and we girls have got to play."

  "How did you know it?" exclaimed Georgie, thoroughly off her guard.

  "I didn't take your method of finding it out, you may be sure," repliedMarion. "I never heard a word about it before this afternoon; but if youput two and two together they generally make four, that's all."

  "What do you mean by putting 'two and two together'?" impatiently askedJulia Thayer.

  "Why, just this!" replied Marion. "Does Mr. Stein have an earthly thingto do with this school except to give us music-lessons? and is thereanything that Miss Stiefbach could be getting up with him, thatconcerned the 'young ladies' that didn't have something to do with ourmusic? and would she be inviting people here when it was convenient to_him_ if it wasn't that they are going to give a musicale, and he isgoing to make us play? So there you've got the whole matter; I don'tthink it required much brilliancy to see that."

  "Well, I _never_ should have thought of it!" exclaimed Sarah.

  "Nor I either," said Florence. "But don't you think it is awfully meannot to have let us known anything about it beforehand, so that we mighthave had time to practise?"

  "I presume Mr. Stein has been secretly drilling us for it this longtime, though we poor, unconscious victims didn't suspect it," repliedMarion. "But there's Georgie, she has the advantage of us; she hasprobably decided what she is going to play, and has learned itperfectly." But there was no reply from Georgie as she had discreetlyleft the room.

  "Oh, isn't she sly?" exclaimed Grace Minton.

  "Sly! sly isn't the word for it," put in Sarah Brown in her mostenergetic tones; "she ought to have been named Foxy Graham!"

  "Well, there's one thing certain," said Grace Minton, "I shan't have toplay; I thank my stars for that!"

  "I wonder who will play," said Florence. "Georgie Graham of course;Julia; and you Mab; and I rather guess I shall have to. Well, I don'tmuch care, I don't believe there will be many here, and I think it'stime I learned to play before strangers."

  "I don't know how I shall ever get on in the world," cried Marion in adespairing tone; "that is about the only thing I never could do."

  "And I think it is so strange," remarked Julia Thayer; "for you see somuch company at home, and always seem so self-possessed wherever youare, that it does seem queer that you are afraid to play before people."

  "I know it. I dare say every one thinks it is all affectation," repliedMarion, "for I know you all think I've got assurance enough to do mostanything; but it is the honest truth, that I'm frightened half to deathwhenever I sit down to play to any one; and if I get along well at thisaffair of Miss Stiefbach's, it will be nothing but my _will_ thatcarries me through."

  "So you mean to play, do you?" asked Georgie Graham, who at thisjuncture suddenly made her appearance in the room.

  "Yes, I mean to play if I'm asked, and I suppose I shall be, because Ithink I ought. I am determined to overcome this ridiculous nervousness,even if it is at the expense of fifty mortifying failures before I doit; so, girls, look out and prepare yourselves for a public disgrace;for of _course_ there is not one of you who would not take it quite toheart if I should break down."

  "Well," replied Sarah Brown in the most energetic tone (Sarah almostalways spoke in italics), "I know I for one should feel dreadfully;though of _course_ I can't answer for some of the rest of us;" and shecast a meaning glance at Georgie.

  "I'm sure, Marion, I _hope_ you won't fail," said Georgie as she pickedup her work, her ostensible reason for coming back, and left the room.

  "I know one thing," exclaimed Sarah; "if that girl kept a list of allthe lies she tells in a week, white and black; she'd use up all theletter-paper there is in the town."

  "O Sallie!" laughed Florence, "you're too severe. I'm afraid you don'tentertain a Christian spirit towards Georgie."

  "I don't, and I don't pretend to!" answered Sarah. "I never did likeher, and I never shall; she's always saying something to aggravate me."

  "But she didn't say anything to you then," said Julia Thayer, with amischievous twinkle in her eyes; "she was only _hoping_ that Marionwould not break down."

  "Yes, and a lot she hoped it!" excitedly replied Sarah; "there'snothing would suit her better than to have Mab make a regular failure ofit; and I just wanted to let her know I thought so."

 
"Now, Sarah," said Marion, in a half-laughing, half-serious tone, "don'tyou trouble yourself to fight my battles. I think I am quite equal to itmyself; besides, you'll have your hands full to look after your ownsquabbles."

  "There's ingratitude for you!" said Grace Minton. "If I were you,Sallie, I never would trouble myself about her again; she doesn'tdeserve such a champion."

  "Oh, I don't mind what she says," replied Sarah, good-naturedly; "shecan't make me hold my tongue, and I shall say just what I've a mind to,to that Georgie Graham, so long as she keeps on tormenting me."

  That evening the whole school was informed that on the following FridayMiss Stiefbach was to give a soiree musicale, at which ten of thescholars were to perform.

  These were Marion Berkley, Florence Stevenson, Alice Howard, MattieDenton, Julia Thayer, Georgie Graham, Susie Snelling, Kate Brastow, and,to the surprise of every one, little Rose May and Fannie Thayer.

  Of course nothing was talked of that week out of study hours, but thesoiree, and great indignation was expressed by most of the performersthat they had not been allowed more time to prepare themselves. But Mr.Stein knew what he was about; he wished the musicale to be as much aswas possible an impromptu affair, as it was not his idea to make anexhibition of the skill of his pupils, but to accustom them to play withease and self-possession before strangers. He gave his pupils a list oftheir names in the order in which they were to play, selected from themusic belonging to each girl several pieces, from which she was tochoose one, exercising her own taste and judgment; decided himself uponthe duets he wished performed, and then informed them that his part inthe matter was ended; from that moment he was to be nothing but aspectator.

  "But, Mr. Stein," exclaimed one, "just _please_ tell me, can I play thiswell enough?" and then from a second, "O Mr. Stein, _would_ you playthis?" and "Oh, I never can play _any_ of these before any one!" from athird, and many other exclamations and lamentations were poured uponhim; but he only held up his hands in a deprecating way. "Now, youngladies, do not, do not, I beg of you, ask me another question! Iconsider that you know any one of the pieces which I have laid aside foryou to choose from sufficiently well to play anywhere; it only remainsfor you to decide which one you will play. Now, good-by until Friday;you will not see me until then, when I shall not come as your teacher,but as an invited guest, to have my ears delighted with the sweet soundswhich I shall expect to hear from that instrument;" and with a profoundbow the old German made his exit.

  But, notwithstanding his apparent unconcern as to the result of this newwhim of his, Mr. Stein was really quite excited about it; several of hispupils at Miss Stiefbach's he considered were quite remarkable for theirage, and he looked forward to the coming musicale with a feeling ofpride not unmixed with fear, lest some of his favorites should fail todo themselves credit.

  Marion had noticed that for two weeks before the secret was generallyknown Georgie Graham had practised Chopin's Polonaise in A, every day,but since the whole school had been informed of the musicale she hadonly heard her play it twice. This induced her to think that Georgie,taking advantage of the knowledge which she had surreptitiously gained,had chosen that piece for Friday night, and having nearly perfectedherself in it, was avoiding practising it, so that none of the girlsmight suspect what she intended to play.

  Marion would not have been likely to have thought of this, if she hadnot taken the Polonaise about the same time that Georgie had, and hadoften remarked that she thought Georgie played it better than anythingelse, and very much better than she did herself. Remembering this, andknowing that Georgie would be particularly anxious to excel her in theeyes of the whole school, and before invited guests, she felt perfectlyconfident that Chopin's Polonaise was the piece she had chosen.

  Now Georgie had certainly done everything she could to make Marionthoroughly uncomfortable ever since they had been back at school, andMarion had been actually longing for an opportunity to revenge herself.Here was the opportunity. The soiree was to open with a duet by MattieDenton and Julia Thayer; then a solo by Florence, followed by a songfrom Alice Howard; then a piano solo from Marion, and after her GeorgieGraham. This precedence over Georgie gave Marion the opportunity whichshe could not resist. She would play the Polonaise herself, thus forcingGeorgie to choose another piece almost without a moment's notice.

  Do not despise her, my friends; she was very much like other girls, andhad a natural desire to punish Georgie for all the mean, pettyannoyances to which she had been subjected at her hands. A very wrongdesire, I grant you, and one for which she blamed herself very much; butshe had it, and consequently as a faithful chronicler I must write it.

  But do not for a moment suppose that she intended publicly to disgraceher school-mate; nothing of the kind; she knew that Georgie wasperfectly capable, and perfectly willing to play any of her music beforeno matter how many strangers. She only wanted to provoke her, and spoilher nicely arranged plan of playing a very difficult and very brilliantpiece of music, better than any of the other girls would be able toplay, as they had not had the advantages of practising expressly for theoccasion which she had taken. She was not at all jealous of Georgie, foralthough they were generally considered the rival pianists of theestablishment, the rivalry was entirely on Georgie's side.

  Many might say that they played equally well, but the few who trulyloved music for its own sake missed something in Georgie's playing whichthey found in Marion's.

  The secret was this: Georgie played from a love of the admiration andpraise she received, and from an ambitious resolution she had made whena little child, that no one she knew should play better than she didherself. Consequently every one was struck with the accuracy andrapidity of her execution, and the brilliancy of her touch in alldifficult music; but in more quiet pieces,--pieces that required thatthe soul of the performer should thrill through every chord, and vibratewith every touch of the piano, that the full depth and beauty of theirperfect harmony might be conveyed to the listener's ear,--then it wasthat Georgie's playing seemed cold and mechanical, while that of Marionseemed an interpretation of the purest ideas of the composer.

  Friday afternoon came at last. Throughout the house the two pianos hadbeen going at almost every hour in the day; early and late, beforebreakfast and after supper, might be heard duets, solos, and songs,until those scholars who were not to perform at the musical soireedeclared themselves thoroughly disgusted with the whole affair, andhoped Miss Stiefbach would never have another.

  This afternoon, however, no one was allowed to go near the piano, andevery girl was obliged to learn her lessons for Monday, and take herusual amount of exercise, notwithstanding that they had all begged andentreated to be permitted to give their last moments to music. MissStiefbach was obdurate and held her ground, for she knew the girls wereall very much excited, and that nothing but a strict attention to otherthings would sufficiently calm them to enable them to play at all, thatnight.

  But just before tea excitement reigned supreme. To be sure it wasdivided and subdivided by being confined to the various rooms where thescholars were dressing themselves for the evening; still, if an entirestranger had walked through the lower part of the house where everythingwas quiet, and no one was to be seen except Miss Christine, who wasarranging some beautiful flowers that had mysteriously made theirappearance that afternoon, he would have felt perfectly sure that someevent of an unusual and highly interesting nature was about to takeplace. As a rule all the scholars dressed very plainly, for MissStiefbach's motto regarding dress which she endeavored to instill intothe youthful minds about her was, "Neatness, not display."

  But notwithstanding the fact that ordinarily all finery was eschewed,almost every girl had stowed away in her trunk at least one dress alittle more elaborate than the rest of her wardrobe; a set of prettyjewelry, or handsome ribbons, "in case anything should happen;" and nowsomething was actually going to happen; the dull routine of school-lifewas to be broken in upon, and consequently the little vanities of thisworld would have a cha
nce to air themselves.

  "To friz, or not to friz! that is the question!" exclaimed Marion, asshe turned from her looking-glass and appealed to Florence, who wasbuttoning her best-fitting cloth boots.

  "Why, friz of course; you know it's the most becoming."

  "Oh, I know that well enough; but you see I was too sleepy to put it uplast night, and now I shall have to do it with hot slate-pencil, andit's the ruination of the hair."

  "I guess it won't hurt it for just this once, and this is certainly agreat occasion," answered Florence; "what are you going to wear onit,--cherry?"

  "Oh, no! that lovely gold band you gave me; it just suits my dress, andlights up beautifully. I like to wear only one color when I can."

  "That is all very well for you to say (these boots are _rayther_ snug),because you're a blonde, and look well in plain colors; but I'm such adarkey that nothing but red and yellow suits me," said Florence.

  "So much the better. I don't think there is anything handsomer than arich orange or a bright scarlet, and sometimes a little of both is justthe thing. There! how does that look?" continued Marion, as she put thelast hair-pin in her back braids, gave an extra touch to the gleamingwaves of her front hair, and straightened the narrow gold satin bandwhich ran through them.

  "Perfectly lovely!" enthusiastically cried Florence; "you've got it justhigh enough without being a bit too high, and those crimps are heavenly!Now put on your dress; I want to see the whole effect before I getmyself up."

  "I don't think it is quite long enough, do you?" asked Marion, in adoubtful tone, as she shook out the folds of a rich Irish poplin, andthrew it over her head; "it is so awfully hard to get a dress justthe right length, when you are not old enough for a train, and too oldto have it up to your knees! But there! how's that?" and she turned forher friend's final verdict.

  "Lovely! just lovely! That is the prettiest shade of green I _ever_ saw;and _such_ a poplin! Where did you get it?"

  "Uncle George brought it to me from Ireland; wasn't it good of him? Butcome, Florence, you really must hurry; I expect the tea-bell will ringany minute; it's a blessed thing Miss Stiefbach put tea off half anhour, or we should never have been dressed beforehand. O Flo! what astunning dress! I never saw it before."

  "_Do_ you like it? I didn't show it to you, for I was afraid you wouldthink it was terribly niggery; but I saw it in Chandler's window, andjust walked in and bought it without saying boo to auntie, and it reallyis quite becoming to me, I'm so black."

  "Becoming! I should think it was; I never saw you look so well inanything in your life. If the thing had been made for you it couldn'thave suited your style better, and that Roman-gold jewelry is just rightfor it; in fact, as mademoiselle used to say, you are decidedly 'commeil faut.'"

  The two girls certainly made a charming picture as they stood together,each interested and eager that the other should look her best.

  Marion's beautiful hair fell slightly over her forehead in soft, curlingwaves, seeming even lighter and brighter than ever, and making thecontrast with her dark eyes and eyebrows all the more marked. Her fairskin and glowing cheeks were set off to advantage by the rich greendress she wore, which, though simply trimmed and in keeping with heryears, was very handsome.

  It would have been hard to choose between the two, for each in her ownstyle was certainly very lovely.

  Florence's hair was drawn off from her low, broad forehead, as shealways wore it, and she had nothing on it but a tiny gilt band, like agolden thread encircling her head; which, though she did not know it,was a perfect Clytie in contour. Her dress was a French poplin, theground a rich blue, while all over it, at regular intervals, wereembroidered singularly odd-shaped figures in the brightest-coloredsilks, giving it a peculiar, piquante appearance, and perfectly suitingthe wearer's brunette beauty.

  Perhaps I have given too much time and space to dress; but parents andguardians may skip the above passage, as it is written expressly foryoung girls, who, I know from personal experience, are very naturallyinterested in such matters.

  The hour at last arrived. The grand-piano stood between thefolding-doors which separated the two large parlors; in the back roomwas Miss Christine, surrounded by all the school, and in the front satMiss Stiefbach and the invited guests, about twenty in number, all ofthem refined, cultivated persons, many of them quite severe musicalcritics.

  Mr. Stein fluttered from one room to the other, trying hard to appearunconcerned; but I doubt if any of his pupils were in a greater state ofexcitement than he. It had been an undecided question whether or no heshould stand by the piano and turn over the music; but the majorityconcluded that he would only make them more nervous, so he retired tothe back of the front parlor, in a position where he could command aview of every note in the key-board.

  M. Beranger made his appearance at an early hour, and declared hisintention of sitting with Miss Christine, to help her preserve order.She remonstrated with him, telling him he could hear the music to muchbetter advantage in the other room; but nevertheless, when the companywas all seated, and silence reigned supreme preparatory to the openingduet, M. Beranger quietly ensconced himself in the back parlor.

  The fatal moment had at last arrived; the musicale was about tocommence.

  Marion sat through the first duet, trying hard not to think of herself,and to listen to the music; but she heard nothing but a confusion ofsounds, the beating of her own heart sounding loudest of all. Florence'spiece she did enjoy, and joined heartily in the applause which followedits 'finale,' and gave her friend's hand a congratulatory squeeze, asshe came back to the seat beside her. But in a very few moments AliceHoward's song was ended, and as the murmurs of approbation died away,Marion took her seat at the piano.

  To all outward appearance she was calm and self-possessed, and with astrong effort she summoned her almost indomitable will to her aid andstruck the first chords clearly and decisively. Through the first twopages everything went well; but just as she was about to turn over hermusic, she missed one or two notes with her left hand. No one who wasnot perfectly familiar with every bar of the music would have noticedthe omission; but to Marion it seemed as if she had made a terriblediscord. Her forced composure left her, and all her nervousness cameback again; she turned over hastily; the music slipped from her fingersand fell to the keys; she grasped it blindly with both hands, but theloose sheets fluttered to the floor, and confused, embarrassed, andmortified almost beyond endurance; she stooped to pick them up, amid asilence which was unbroken, save by Miss Stiefbach, who said in cold,hard tones:--

  "Miss Berkley, do not attempt to repeat your piece; such carelessness isunpardonable."

  The hot blood rushed to Marion's face; then as suddenly receded, leavingit deathly white. She rose from the piano, and with a firm step anduntrembling lips walked quietly to her seat. But although externally shewas so calm as to appear almost indifferent, her mind was in a state ofthe wildest excitement. The air immediately about her seemed filled witha confusion of sounds, rushing, whirring, whirling about her; while thedead silence of the room seemed to take palpable shape and weight,crushing upon her, until she felt as if she must rush from the room tobreak through the unbearable stillness, or scream aloud to silence theimaginary sounds that were ringing in her ears.

  But she did neither; she sat quietly in her seat, the object of stealthybut almost general scrutiny. Some of the girls looked at her withpitying, sympathizing eyes; those who did not like her exchanged glancesof satisfaction; but all refrained from speaking to her, or otherwiseshowing their sympathy,--all but Florence; she slipped her hand into herfriend's, and there it remained for the rest of the evening.

  When Marion first struck the piano, and Georgie Graham saw what she wasabout to play, her rage and indignation knew no bounds; but when themusic fell, and Marion stood mortified, and, as she thought, disgracedin the eyes of every one, her spirits rose to a most unparalleledheight, and elated and radiant with satisfaction she took her seat atthe piano, and played the Polonaise al
most faultlessly; better than shehad ever played it before.

  With the exception of Marion, all the pupils acquitted themselves with agreat deal of credit; but for a while her failure seemed to cast aslight shadow over the evening's enjoyment; for her beauty, and theheroic manner with which she had borne her disgrace, aggravated as itwas by Miss Stiefbach's very unnecessary rebuke, had won for her theadmiration of all the guests, most of whom were entire strangers to her.

  After the close of the musicale, as pupils and guests were minglingtogether, and the room was noisy with animated conversation, MissChristine went up to Marion, who was standing in a retired corner of theroom talking to M. Beranger, and taking her hand said:--

  "Marion, now that we are apparently unobserved I must tell you how sorryI was that Miss Stiefbach should have spoken so severely to you. I amsure she was not aware how unkind it seemed; she did not intend to hurtyour feelings, and probably thought from your apparent calmness that youwere really not at all nervous, and that dropping your music was nothingbut carelessness and want of interest."

  Marion made no reply, her lips seemed glued together, and Miss Christinecontinued:--

  "I was surprised that Georgie should have played the Polonaise. I rarelyspeak of the faults of one girl to another, and perhaps I ought not now,but I must say, I did not think I had a scholar who would be so unkindas to choose a piece she knew one of her companions had chosen."

  The rebuke intended for Georgie struck directly home to Marion. She hadbeen struggling with herself ever since Miss Christine had stood there,knowing that she ought, before the evening was over, to tell her teacherthe unworthy part she had acted; now every sense of honor and justicecompelled her to do so. But directly beside her stood M. Beranger, andher pride rebelled at being again disgraced in his eyes, for hiskindness and forbearance, ever since their first lesson, had won forhim her sincere esteem and regard. The struggle was severe, butmomentary, for raising her eyes to Miss Christine, she said:--

  "It was a very contemptible thing, Miss Christine; nothing but anintense desire for revenge could have induced me to select a piece Iknew Georgie had previously chosen."

  "You, Marion!" exclaimed Miss Christine; nothing else, just thatexclamation; but the tone of her voice cut Marion more deeply than anyharsh rebuke could have done.

  "Yes, Miss Christine, I chose it, knowing that Georgie had practised iton purpose to play it to-night. I thought as I was to play first Ishould be able to disconcert her. I am heartily ashamed of myself; mydisgrace was nothing but what I deserved."

  For a moment there was silence. Miss Christine was shocked to findMarion could have done such a thing. Sarcastic, haughty, disagreeable toher companions in many ways, she had known her to be, but mean never;she could not understand it.

  If she had known the disgraceful part Georgie had really taken in theaffair; if she had heard of the eaves-dropping of which she had beenguilty in the school-room, to punish which had been quite as great aninducement for Marion's conduct as a desire for revenge, she would havefelt very differently; but of that Marion said nothing. But MissChristine was too kind-hearted, and understood her pupil too well tospeak sternly to her; besides, she knew it must have cost Marion asevere struggle to exonerate Georgie at the expense of herself, anddoubly so in the presence of M. Beranger. In fact, when the first shockof surprise had passed off, she felt that the nobleness of Marion'sexpiation had atoned for her fault, and she could not help thinking thatthere were many girls in the school who would have held their tongues,and been only too glad to thrust the blame on to one who was sointensely disagreeable to them.

  These thoughts flashed through Miss Christine's mind in a moment, andholding out her hand, she said in her kindest tones;--

  "My dear Marion, I am sure this is the last time you will ever doanything so unworthy of yourself."

  Marion's only reply was a warm pressure of that dear hand, as she turnedand left the room.

  "Do you not judge Mlle. Berkley too hasteelie?" whispered M. Beranger."There is something behind all this, which you do not yet perceive. Ifeel verie sure that Mees Georgie do know more tan she do tell."