"You don't know me, Miriam?"

"Hilda! Is it you? Mrs. Latham!--but---"

"Yes, Miriam, I am Mrs. Latham. But my husband is dead. He died only a month ago!"

"It is only a year since Gerald died."

"Poor Gerald--did he forgive me for leaving him?"

"He never forgot--I cannot say whether he forgave. Your name was last on his lips--not mine!"

"My name? And you were so good to him? Miriam, will _you_ forgive?"

"I--yes, I forgive. It was him you wronged more than me, for I could guide my life--he couldn't. He was weak, helpless--little more than a child. And you led him further astray, Hilda. And yet he loved you as he never loved me, even at the end."

"Oh, Miriam, you don't know what I've suffered. I am not so wholly to blame as you think. You don't know what my life was--from the merest child I was neglected. I was never taught to care save for myself. I was pampered, spoiled, allowed to run utterly wild. My only teaching was to put a value on myself--to see to it that I secured the biggest prize in marriage. You cannot afterwards undo the evil done by an up-bringing such as mine. And my instincts were never for good, Miriam. I secured through John Dundas all that I craved, riches, position, ease, gaiety.

And when I lost them, remember, I lost what was to me all. Gerald loved me I know; yes, and I loved him as much as it was in me to love any man.

I could not resist the temptation that a.s.sailed me. But I was prepared to do my duty by him, Miriam. I would have gone on loving him. I would have been with him at the end--"

"Why, then, did you leave him?"

"Because he forced me to. He drank so horribly. He was like a madman most of the time. He gambled recklessly--more than once he struck me. I stayed by him as long as I could, and then one night he treated me so cruelly I had to leave him. I was afraid for my life. I had already met Mr. Latham. He fell in love with me, and he urged me all the time to leave Gerald. But I would not have left him, I swear to you, if he had not treated me so violently. Mr. Latham was rich I know, and Gerald then had little money left. But it was not that that took me. I was in daily, hourly terror of him. Oh, Miriam, you cannot imagine how he was. That night I tell you of, I left him. I went with Mr. Latham to Italy, and there we were married. He was more than good to me, far better I know than I deserved. I was prepared to make amends for my past life, and at least to be a good wife to him. But fate determined, I suppose, that I should suffer, for he died--died when we had been married only a few months. And now I am alone, and oh, so wretched, Miriam, so terribly unhappy."

She burst into tears.

"Hilda, don't--I, too, am alone. Believe me, I forgive you if it is my forgiveness you would have. You have been wrong; but I was wrong, I think, in the beginning, too--towards Gerald. I ought to have left things to take their chance. But what I did, I did to save him. For that I was punished. G.o.d knows what I have suffered. But, come now, even though you are alone, you have your father and mother----"

"My father and mother! Don't name them to me. I hate them. To them I owe the whole failure of my life. They had no right to bring children into the world, and allow them to grow up weeds. I wish never to see either of them again. No, I am going back to Italy. I shall find some niche to fill there I suppose. But I could not stay here. All I wanted was to know that you forgave me. You have been so good, Miriam, and if you forgive me, I can bear the rest. And, Miriam----"

"Yes, Hilda."

"You will marry John Dundas? Don't be angry with me, but if you are happy, I should feel my life was easier. John is good, Miriam, he is one of the best of men--I never deserved him. You do. Let me feel that you won't--that the past won't stand in your way. He deserves to be happy."

"He has been very good to me, Hilda, very kind. I know what you must feel. Let us both try and forget."

"Say again that you forgive me, Miriam."

"Freely, Hilda. I forgive."

"Good bye. You will write and tell me--any news?"

"I will write, Hilda; good-bye."

As she left the room Miriam could bear up no longer. She threw herself on the sofa, and cried as if her heart would break.

Six months later, in the lovely summer weather, Dundas and Miriam were wandering through the gardens of the Manor House together--man and wife.

In the little church over yonder, fraught to Miriam with so many memories, they had been married by the Reverend Augustine, now four months ago. And even Mrs. Darrow, open enemy though she declared herself, had not contrived to spoil their peace. d.i.c.ky, it is true, had been permitted to attend the wedding of his Miss Crane, but Mrs. Darrow herself had remained adamant, and stayed at home to nurse her rage and show her great displeasure.

And with the glorious peace and rest which had now come into her life, Miriam felt at last her night was over--the heavy shades had lifted, and the dawn was brightening to a golden noon. Her faith in G.o.d was justified to her even in this world.

Her husband turned, and asked her what he never tired of asking:

"Are you happy, Miriam?"

"Happy, dear? So happy!--happier than I have ever been or ever thought to be!"

Selections from Jarrold & Sons' List.

JOCELYN ERROLL.

BY CURTIS YORKE,

_Author of "That Little Girl," "A Romance of Modern London," "The Wild Ruthvens," etc., etc._

FOURTH EDITION.

SOME PRESS OPINIONS.

Daily Chronicle--

"Will be read with interest. Pauline Etheredge is skilfully touched in. Fatal sirens are so universally presented to us in novels as totally devoid of humour as they are full of charm, that we welcome this deviation from the beaten track."

Literature--

"A powerful book, as are all Curtis Yorke's novels."

Newcastle Daily Chronicle--

"The best novel we have had from her pen. The talented author tells her story well, and with considerable power, and cleverly maintains the reader's interest to the end."

Glasgow Herald--

"Charmingly written."

Dundee Advertiser--