A pressing occasion has arisen, too, for my
going abroad. I must go, come what will."

The wedding was to take place in August, and
he went abroad in July. He had not been in
Paris since that early visit, on his return from
which he had first met Laura. He went on
through Germany, perpetually changing the
scene of his distress, and trying to persuade
himself that he had done right in leaving no
address behind him in England, so that news
from home might not disturb his search after
tranquillity. Yet after all, somehow he found
himself speaking to Mrs. Goldridge, who turned
up one day at Homburg, and inquiring after
common friends with great eagerness.

"Well," said she, after some talk: "I have
been waiting very patiently for you to tell me
all about the Stalmans; but it seems to me you
are going to be as close as ever."

"I have been away longer than you have,
and have had no letters. The—the—Marriage
took place in August, I believe? The day was
not fixed when I left, but the month was."

Mrs. Goldridge opened her eyes very wide:

"Good gracious! Haven't you seen
Monday's Times?"

"No."

"Come home with me, and let me show it
to you."

She would not tell him a word more, but
conveyed him to her lodgings, produced the
paper, and pointed out an announcement under
the head of Marriages, in which the bride and
bridegroom's names were respectively: Geraldine
Royle and W. Payne Shepherd.

"You are ill, Mr. Pringleson!"

"No, no. I feel the heat a little. Nothing,
nothing. How long have you known of this?"

"I knew nothing of it before I saw it in the
paper. Only, I heard before I left home that
the Royles were all right again. It appears the
failure of their bank was a false report: was,
after all, confined to some comparatively
unimportant losses. They never actually stopped."

Within four days, Mr. Pringleson arrived at
Mrs. Stalman's house. It was night.

"Miss Stalman is very ill a-bed, sir," said
the servant, "and missis is with her."

"Merely say I am here, and beg Mrs.
Stalman not to come down on any account,
unless it is quite convenient."

He was shown into the drawing-room, and
the servant lighted one jet of gas in each of the
chandeliers in the two rooms. They looked
very dismal under this aspect, and his heart
ached at sight of a pile of Laura's songs, which
had been carelessly heaped together by a
servant. The top one bore her name, written by
Shepherd, and from a little work-basket on the
table a piece of work peeped out which she
had been doing for him, and over which Edward
had often seen her smile.

The door opened noiselessly, and the poor
mother came in. They greeted one another in
silence, and she sat down and sobbed.

Mr. Pringleson rose and paced the room for
a while.

"I know nothing about it," he said at last,
"beyond the fact of the marriage."

"Oh, it has been such a sad business! Such
a sad business! I thought at first it would
have come right if only you had been here;
but now I see it was for the best. I am glad
it is all over" she spoke angrily "for he is a
false and mercenary villain."

Mr. Pringleson did not by any means contradict
her.

"He appeared in his real character when
they began to talk about the settlements. He
wanted more money than the trustees would
allow, and Mr. Stevens was very angry about
it. At least, I think that was it. At any rate,
he told, first Mr. Stevens, and then me, that he
could not carry out the marriage on such terms.
He went away, leaving me to break it to her.
Ah, my friend, my friend! I wanted you sadly
then."

"How is she now?"

"Very ill; but, thank God! out of danger."

"Does she speak of it much?"

"Never. She never mentions his name."

Many would have seen her if they might,
some from curiosity, some from kindness; but
only one person was admitted to see her. Day
after day, Mr. Pringleson sat long hours with
her. They never spoke of the trouble, and
often sat silent; but those hours were the most
precious hours in Laura's life. "Oh! It is a
wonderful thing to have a friend!" she said
one day at dusk, as he sat by her couch. She
added, as she kissed his hand: "I feel so
comforted when you are here; you seem to
understand so. Sometimes I think you must have
known some trouble like mine."

"Yes, dear Laura," he answered, in a very low
voice. "Neither you nor I can love twice!"

But the questions that remain to be
propounded are, whether she really loved but once,
and if once, whom? And if she had deceived
herself in supposing that she loved that shallow
scoundrel, whom did she love when she
undeceived herself? Guess!

As for Mr. Pringleson;—that he did not love
twice, and that he never tried to do it, can be
stated on oath. And yet he got married,
mistrustful of himself in that wise, as he had been.
If he had been less mistrustful of himself, whom
might he have married, even before he saw
himself in the glass and found he was forty-two?
Guess! And whom did he most happily marry
after all? Guess! It was not Mrs. Stalman.
Guess again!

Now ready, bound in cloth, price 5s. 6d.,
VOLUME THE SEVENTEENTH.

The Right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors.