“Not pleasant, with two such beautiful ladies to do the honors? What is the matter?"

"That I cannot exactly tell; but you often feel uncomfortable there, though since Miss Helen returned from her convent

school, where her father took a fancy to educate her to torture her mother, I do believe things go better. There are even sometimes really cheerful times in Mrs. Mordant's exclusive circle."

as they seem, and with a daughter so exceedingly beautiful ? "

"O they tell strange stories about them, sir, around this office, yet nobody seems to know on what they are founded. It is, however, pretty generally known that Mr. and Mrs. Mordant live on bad terms together. He is a morose, irritable man, and of a very suspicious, jealous disposition. Mrs. Mordant, on the contrary, is of a most sweet and gentle nature, always kind and affectionate, but so melancholy that she is rarely seen to smile. In their company you cannot help feeling oppress

ed."

But what is the cause of this condition of things?

"I think, principally, an unhappy marriage; but there are also other causes. of about four years, was, by the carelessMrs. Mordant had a son who, when a boy

ness of a slave girl, his nurse, lost; either stolen or strayed away. Years after, he was found again and brought home. Mrs. Mordant was overjoyed to recover her child, but not so her husband. Some say that he has always doubted that the found boy was their own, although the evidence was very striking; while others, and I confess I belong to the latter class, think he was on the point of separating from his wife and trying to get a divorce, that he might marry the young widow of a very wealthy planter with whom he had become very intimately acquainted during a season at one of the watering places."

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man.

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Incredible!" exclaimed the

young

I believe it true, nevertheless, and that the lady, who was not over-scrupulous, had agreed to the match. She was a handsome, vulgar woman, a creole, and her bold black eyes had a strange power over Mordant. I think, however, public separation did not take place. His wife sentiment was too powerful for him, for the was likely to become a mother again, and it was hoped by her friends that its birth would reconcile him to her and soften his hard temper. Just before this child was born, which was the daughter you saw,

her first born was restored.'

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My name is Windermere," replied the young man, drawing a pocket-book out and presenting a card.

"Oh, ah! Of the English family of that name, I presume," said the officer, with a polite bow.

"We are distantly related and came from the same stock, but my property is in Cuba."

"You have the true English accent." "Very likely. I have been in the States a good deal, and have been often in this city.'

Ah! I almost wonder I have never met you before, for I have been stationed at Southern forts for many years, and spend some time nearly every winter here."

"It is very easily explained. I have few acquaintances, and live in a very quiet and secluded way." Mr. Windermere blushed a little as he said this.

"Shall we

The officer bowed again. call on Mrs. Mordant to-morrow?" "With pleasure. And may I inquire your name?"

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My name is Wainright. I am a Major in the United States army."

Well, Major, to-morrow evening at about four o'clock, if you please."

They were punctual at the hour, and the major was not a little surprised at the elegant equipage with two liveried negroes as outriders, with which the young man presented himself before the entrance to the hotel.

"There is one thing I must tell you about Mr. Mordant," said the major, as they rolled along on their way to that gentleman's residence. "He has a singular aversion to his daughter, and the friends

of Mrs. Mordant say that at the time of her birth his treatment of his wife was so abusive and cruel that she became dangerously ill, so much so that she was obliged to be carried to the Virginia Springs. She was very unwilling to go, as it was neces sary to leave her children at home, which, together with the shameful suspicions of her husband threw her into a deep melancholy. She, however, gradually recovered her health, and was able to return home."

"And was there any cause for the suspicions of her husband?”

"Not the least in the world. Her whole life was a refutation of them; at the same time it is altogether certain that Helen does not in the least resemble father or mother.'

"That is not at all uncommon," chimed in Windermere.

They arrived at Mrs. Mordant's and found the lady at home. She received them in a very handsome drawing-room whose arched windows were draped with exquisite creeping vines loaded with fra grant flowers, whose odor the evening air diffused throughout the apartment. Rare exotics stood in handsome vases, and ev erything in the appointments of the room indicated cultivated taste and refinement.

Mrs. Mordant was neatly and elegantly attired in printed linen cambric of a delicate pink hue, harmonizing charmingly with her delicate complexion and silken hair of a pale gold color, whose rich, wavy masses surrounded her head like a halo. A delicate flush upon her cheeks gave her a very youthful aspect and heightened her always remarkable beauty.

As Mrs. Mordant arose to receive and welcome her guests, Windermere felt strangely moved. It seemed as if a form once known but long vanished, rose up again before his spirit, balf awakening for gotten memories of times and places which he could not quite wrest back from obliv ion, but which had been. But the illusion passed and he looked around for Helen. She was not present.

The Major seated himself by the lady, and the conversation first took the light turn, the little touches on trifles and nothing, so safe between mere acquaintances, and which make the intercourse of fashion

able society so elegantly insipid. Mrs. Mordant found it an irksome task thus to conform to the habits of the circle in which she moved, and insensibly a more serious tone crept into the conversation. Windermere had travelled and showed an intimate acquaintance with the men and manners of different countries, and especially with the mountain districts of Tennessee.

"It seems strange that I never should have met you before, for by your intimacy with my part of the country, you must have been much there," she remarked.

"I am a little peculiar," he replied, "and hold myself very much in the background. I am a lover of art and have devoted much time to its cultivation, and this penchant carries me often among the romantic mountain and valley scenery.' It did not escape the notice of Wainright that the young men's face had wholly lost the supercilious and somewhat insolent expression which had made him a little disagreeable. The handsome features had become noble. Earnest and grave lines appeared on the brow, giving to the large, dark blue eyes a deep and penetrating look, which increased with the warmth and energy of his conversation. While the Major sat studying the changing expressions of the young man's face, it suddenly assumed a new and very beautiful one. His cheeks glowed, and a radiant fire flashed from his eyes. Helen had entered the room, and the impression which she made on Windermere was too decided not to make known to the Major what was passing in his mind.

He arose with a sudden impulse as the young girl entered a side door and glided behind the sofa on which her mother was seated, and saluted her with a low bow.

Helen was very beautiful although exceedingly youthful; scarcely sixteen years of age, her figure had attained those most elegant proportions which a very slender, swaying form sometimes presents. Her brown eyes were soft, bright and very large, and her light golden hair fell in large, loose ringlets down her white shoulders. She had a fair oval face of a magnolia white complexion, but a warm flush passed over it as she met the admiring eyes of the young man.

"This is my daughter Helen, Mr. Windermere," said the mother, interrupting the remark she was just making. Helen acknowledged his profound salutation by a modest curtesy, and seating herself by her mother, the conversation went on. Windermere was giving some details of his life, which had been varied and eventful. He had been early orphaned, and having been consigned to the care of stern and cruel relatives, he had cut the gordian knot of his early slavery, and made his escape. His experiences after this step were varied. From year to year he roamed around from one country to another, now serving as a cabin boy on some vessel, now as a waiter in some gentleman's house, until his sixteenth year, when he found himself in Mexico, fighting in the army of the United States under General Scott.

His account of his adventures in this war was given with a graphic force that held his hearers spell-bound. As he detailed the horrors of the fall of Monterey, the sacking of the bishop's house, the battle of Chepultepec and the fearful slaughter of Buena Vista, Helen shuddered from head to foot. She listened to him like Desdemona to Othello, almost loving him for the dangers he had seen.

Through all the evening it was a matter of surprise to Wainright that Mrs. Mordant made no allusion to either her husband or her son, and he did not feel on terms of sufficient intimacy with her to hazard an inquiry on a subject which his hostess evidently avoided. The conversation at last faltered, and the visitors took their leave. As soon as the young man found himself again alone with the Major, he inquired the cause of the silence of both mother and daughter concerning their nearest relatives.

"Of her husband," said the Major, "Mrs Mordant never speaks. He is absent just now in New York, I think. The son is, I believe, travelling, and has been absent six months. I have heard that there is a difficulty, a quarrel between him and his parents, at least, his father, on account of a young lady whom his father insists on his marrying, but to whom he has an aversion. How it will end I do not know, but it is only one of the many

troubles which seem always to make discord in this family."

"But whose fault is it that there is so little harmony?"

"I do not like to decide, but I have every reason to think it the fault of Mr. Mordant, whose pride, passionate temper, and cold-blooded severity exceed everything I ever saw in any other."

With these words, the two gentlemen alighted from the carriage, and parted on the steps of the St. Charles, Windermere warmly thanking the Major for the service he had rendered him in introducing him to Mrs. Mordant, and excusing himself for not spending the remainder of the evening with him on the plea of a previous engage

ment.

Mr. Mordant returned home about three weeks after the introduction of Windermere to his family. At the first glance, his wife perceived a storm brooding, so dark and sinister was his expression. Several days, however, went by before it broke. During most of this time he remained in his own apartment, and was taciturn and ill-humored at table, scarcely addressing a word to his wife or daughter, and answering only in monosyllables when addressed. Mrs. Mordant, however, remarked that he had several secret conferences with strangers who called on him.

During the three weeks previous to her husband's return, Windermere had been an almost daily visitor. He presented himself almost immediately to Mr. Mordant on his return, and was courteously and civilly, but very coldly, received. Mordant seemed, notwithstanding, to take a deeper interest in the young man than he was willing to betray. He held frequent, but short conversations with him, and made many inquiries into his family connections and own personal history.

One evening Mrs. Mordant was walking up and down the long veranda, enjoying the cool breeze which swept in from the gulf, when her husband came suddenly up a shady walk and stopped before her.

"How long is it, madame, since you received letters from Louis?" he inquired, in a tone which at once betrayed displeasure towards his son.

"It is about three weeks since I received my last letter."

And where was he then?" "He was in Paris."

Well, madam, I can give you later intelligence than that. He left Paris two months ago, and while we were receiving letters from England, Scotland and France, he was nowhere else than in Tennessee."

"In Tennessee! You are jesting! You surprise me! And where is he, and why has he assumed this mask?"

"That I wish to inquire of you, madam," said Mr. Mordant in a sharp tone, and with a certain compression of the lips which betokened an outburst of anger. "Of me? I am more surprised at it than you."

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You seem to be surprised at everything save the real character of our sou, or rather of our foundling

'For heaven's sake, Mordant," his wife with a low cry interrupted him, “do you wish to ruin the future of your son that you cast such a suspicion upon him? You cannot surely think that!

That remains to be seen," he replied with a cold scorn, pressing his white lips more tightly together. "At any rate, whatever future I wish to prepare for him, he seems determined to cast aside, as if I had no claim to his duty or obedience. I will tell you, madam, what he is doing in Tennessee, if you do not know, or would not rather I should keep silent. He is devoting himself to the daughter of Helen's nurse, making honorable love to that beg gar girl, and it is for this reason that he has set his face against a marriage with one of the richest young ladies in the city of New Orleans. That is the cause of this mask as you express it, of this disgraceful deception, as I think it. But a mother always has excuses for all infamy in her