A Crooked Path. Mrs. Alexander

men such as he was her dolliness, and this was a new departure.

      "Well," he said, in his most insinuating tones, "I thought you might have granted so much to an old friend and faithful admirer like myself. There is no great harm in my little plan."

      "Certainly not, but you see I must hold on to my mother-in-law: she is my only real stay. While pleasant and friendly as you are, my dear Colonel"—with a pretty little toss of her head—"you will go off shooting, or hunting, or Heaven knows what, and it is quite possible I may never see your face again."

      "Oh, by George! you will not get rid of me so easily," cried Ormonde, a good deal taken back.

      "I shall be very glad to see you if you do turn up again," said Mrs. Liddell, graciously. "So as this will probably be the last time I shall see you for some months, pray tell me some amusing gossip."

      But gossip did not seem to come readily to Colonel Ormonde; nevertheless they made a tour of the gardens in desultory conversation, till Mrs. Liddell stopped decidedly, and bade him adieu.

      "At last," said the cautious ex-dragoon, "you will write and tell me how you get on with this amiable old relative of yours."

      "I shall be very pleased to report progress, if you care to write and ask me, and tell me your whereabouts."

      "Then I suppose it is to be good-by?" said Ormonde, almost sentimentally. "You are treating me devilishly ill."

      "I do not see that." Here the boys came running up, at a signal from their mother.

      "Well, my fine fellow," said Ormonde, laying his hand on Cecil's shoulder, "so you went to see your old uncle. Did he try to eat you?"

      "No; but he is a nasty cross old man. He wouldn't speak a word to mammy, but took his stick and hobbled away."

      "Yes, he is a wicked man, and I am afraid he will hurt auntie," put in Charlie.

      Colonel Ormonde laughed rather more than the mother liked. "I think you may trust 'auntie' to take care of herself.—So you forced the old boy to retreat? What awful stories your sister-in-law must have told of you!" to Mrs. Liddell.

      She was greatly annoyed, but, urged by all-powerful self-interest, she maintained a smooth face, and answered, "Oh yes, when Katherine kept worrying about our disturbing her uncle, the poor old man got up and left the room."

      "Well, you must turn her flank, and be sure to let me know how matters progress. I suppose you will be here all the autumn?"

      "I should think so; small chance of my going out of town," she returned, bitterly, and the words had scarce left her lips before she felt she had made a mistake. Men hate to be bothered with the discomforts of others.

      The result was that Colonel Ormonde cut short his adieux, and parted from her with less regret than he felt five minutes before.

      The young widow walked smartly back, holding her eldest boy's hand, and administered a sharp rebuke to him for talking too much. To which Cecil replied that he had only answered when he was spoken to. This elicited a scolding for his impertinence, and produced further tart answers from the fluent young gentleman, which ended by his being dismissed in a fury to Jane, vice Charles, promoted to walk beside mamma.

      As may be supposed, Mrs. Liddell lost no time about answering her daughter's note in person. In truth, toward the end of a week's separation she generally began to hunger painfully for a sight of her Katie's face, to feel the clasp of her soft arms, and to this was added in the present instance serious uneasiness respecting the strain to which her sense of responsibility as nurse as well as housekeeper must subject so inexperienced a creature.

      It was rather late in the afternoon when Mrs. Liddell reached Legrave Crescent, and the servant showed her into the front parlor at once. Katherine almost feared to draw her uncle's attention to the visitor. He had had all the papers read to him, and even asked for some articles to be read a second time; now after his dinner he seemed to doze. If he had not noticed Mrs. Liddell's entry she had perhaps better take her away upstairs at once, but while she thought she sprang to her and locked her in a close, silent embrace.

      Turning from her, he saw that Mr. Liddell's eyes were open and fixed upon them, and she said, softly: "I am sorry you have been disturbed. I shall take my mother to my room; perhaps if you want anything you will ring for me."

      "I will," he returned; and Mrs. Liddell thought his tone a little less harsh than usual. "I said you might come and see your daughter when you like," he added, "and I repeat it. You have brought her up more usefully than I expected." Having spoken, he leaned his head back wearily and closed his eyes.

      "I am pleased to hear you say so," returned Mrs. Liddell, quietly, and immediately followed her daughter out of the room.

      "Oh, darling mother, I am so delighted to have you here all to myself! It is even better than going home," cried Kate, when they were safe in her own special chamber. "But you are looking pale and worn and thin—so much thinner!"

      "That is an improvement, Katherine," returned Mrs. Liddell; "I shall look all the younger."

      "Ah! but your face looks older, dear. What has been worrying you? Has Ada—"

      "Ada has never worried me, as you know, Katie," interrupted Mrs. Liddell. "She is not exactly the companion I should choose for every day of my life, but she has always been kind and nice with me."

      "Oh, she is not bad, and she would be clever if she managed to make you quarrel. I am quite different. Now I must get you some tea. Pray look round while I am gone, and see how comfortable it is;" and Katherine hurried away.

      She soon returned, followed by Mrs. Knapp, who was glad to carry up the tea-tray to the pleasant, sensible lady who had engaged her for what proved to be not an uncomfortable situation. When, after a few civil words, she retired, with what delight and tender care Katie waited on her mother, putting a cushion at her back and a footstool under her feet, remembering her taste in sugar, her little weakness for cream!

      "It was very warm in the omnibus, I suppose, for you are looking better already."

      "I am better; but, Katherine, your uncle is curiously changed. It is not so much that he looks ill, but by comparison so alarmingly amiable."

      "Well, he is less appalling than he was, and I have grown wonderfully accustomed to him. But for the monotony, it is not so bad as I expected, and it will be better now, as Mr. Newton is to give me the weekly money. I think my uncle is trying to live."

      "Poor man! he has little to live for," said Mrs. Liddell.

      "He wishes to outlive some other old man, because then he will get a good deal of money, according to some curious system—called a 'Tontine.'"

      "Is it possible? The ruling passion, then, in his instance is strong against death."

      "What a poverty-stricken life his has been, after all!" exclaimed Katherine. "Did Ada tell you how vexed he was at her visit?"