CHAPTER XII.

ANOTHER NEW YEAR'S EVE.

MORE than two years have rolled away. Two years! Yes. And what has Paul

been doing all the time?-Paul, established in London, with no dread of poverty before him, with his mother and sister provided for, and the world smiling at him generally.

Paul is a prosperous Paul now, upward and onward, he has climbed his way in his profession manfully, and already his brightest aspirations seem nearly being realised.

He is already, though young, beginning to be famous; beginning to carve out a fortune for himself. His boyish notion, that the crowded, stirring city, where men jostle at every turn, was the place for him, appears more true to him than ever.

He is a friend to the poor and the sinners, and to those whose faces shame has covered. The road he is treading, made bright by his goodness and his talents, has still some charms for him.

What of his love? Is it dead? His love for the bright lady who is now a countess, and who has never given him a passing thought? Do such loves ever die out? Cannot most of us remember a time when life seemed valueless? when existence seemed swallowed up in passion? when the heart and the spirit were scorched by a continual fire? And when time, and reason, and circumstance, and nature, have conspired to remove the scalding pain and to teach us wisdom, what then? Shall. we be like "dumb driven cattle?” or, like

Paul, shall each of us strive to become a hero in the strife?

Before many years Paul did really become a great doctor, waited on by courtly patients, sought for, valued, beloved.

of a

But now I am going to tell you certain New Year's Eve. Have you forgotten that when Paul first met Reginald Wylde, it was on a certain freezing New Year's Eve, on Waterloo Bridge, and the two made a compact that henceforth, every New Year's Eve they were to spend together. And now Paul is staying at Percy Priory, for one week, borrowed from his arduous duties. He arrived only last night, and this night, this New Year's Eve, Reginald has thrown his house open, and is entertaining almost the whole county with a grand ball and supper.

And Paul is as much sought, as much thought of as Reginald himself. He is known to be his chief friend, reported to be his heir, and some of the high and

mighty of Aberglace, who are there, smile upon him very sweetly indeed.

This was not the first visit Paul had paid to Percy Priory. He had been there several times before, and Reginald was very intimate with the Hartleys, and Paul and Flora are talking together at the window looking into the lordly park, while the band is discoursing sweet music. The splendid ball room, with its blaze of lights, its happy groups of young and old, the conservatory, with its gorgeous flowers, in ful magnificence; outside, the white, still, spotless snow, covering the woods with its robe of purity; above, the bright, quiet moon. And the young, brave, honest Paul, and the gentle, divine Flora, are looking out upon the white world, and he is pleading, "To stand by me in joy and in sorrow, to halo my whole life by your presence, to be my hope, my love, my wife."

She did not speak, and he went on again.

"Toiling from morning till evening, miss

ing a sweet voice to welcome my returning, looking in vain for a sweet face at my hearthstone. Say, must not my life be joyless? If I might but claim that dear hand as mine, my own."

Flora put it confidingly into his, and her tears of joy fell on it fast and thick. She loved Paul.

Later that evening Paul went into the conservatory, and came suddenly upon a couple. One was Reginald, the other was a pretty dark-eyed girl we have seen once before, and Reginald held her hand in his own, and whispered love in her ear, and at first Paul felt hot and angry when he recognised his sister, but Reginald burst into a joyous ringing laugh.

"Don't knock me down, Paul. Little Patty has promised to be my wife. Let me present you to Mrs. Reginald Percy."

We may hint here that Cecil Percy the younger never came in for the great North Estates.