thing of the 'uman 'eart, and I can see through a noble haction as plain as if it was a pane in this glass case." Lady Humphrey was so amazed at this digression from. ribbons and lace, that she was silent for some moments, and sat gazing rather suspiciously at the clever little woman, who, with her head on one side in the most innocent attitude, was busy snipping out an objectionable flower from the trimming of the head gear that had been purchased. "I can see, too, that your ladyship is annoyed," she added, deprecatingly, "because I have served you myself, instead of sending for 'Ester. But I assure your ladyship that she is hout on particular business of mine. I would not have disappointed your ladyship for the world. Had I known you was coming I should have gone hout myself sooner than sent her from 'ome. But about the dress, your ladyship; plum-coloured satin I think your ladyship said, with a tucker of point round the bosom, and a little flounce of the h'own round the 'em of the skirt. Very 'andsome indeed, it will be; and shall 'Ester go out to fit it on?" Lady Humphrey could think of no particular reason why Hester should not fit on the dress, and so the milliner had her way. Very hanxious she was to see you, my dear," she said to Hester on her return after Lady Humphrey's departure, " and a very nice little houting it will be for you; which you want it, if hever a girl did.” "I'd rather not go, ma'am," said Hester, doubtfully. “I wish you would send one of the other young women.' Nonsense!" cried the milliner. "After all the arrangements I 'ave made. I sent to Mrs. Patacake's in Knightsbridge for a sally-lun, and you shall have a cup of tea and a shrimp with me hearly, and a new ribbon for your bonnet, so that you may go on your business in the cool of the evening; for sure I am she will keep you all night." So Hester brightened up, and fell to trimming her bonnet. She thought that Lady Humphrey must have been wonderfully kind, when the milliner spoke so confidently. That very evening about sunset a young man on horseback came cantering up the high street of Richmond, rode across the bridge, and took his way through Bushy Park towards Hampton Court. He was a very handsome young man, with a dark face, which ought to have looked pleasant, but his brows were knit now, and he looked rather fierce and troubled. Whatever were his uncomfortable reflections, they were speedily disturbed by the shouting of boys' voices, a great clapping of hands, hissings, and the barking of a dog. A little further on he met a group of ill-looking urchins, cheering in great delight; and a little farther still, in the distance among the trees he espied the cause of their amusement. He saw an ugly dog barking and jumping, and the figure of a young girl drawn up against the tree for protection, her little grey cloak almost torn from her shoulders, her bonnet hanging back upon her neck. One hand grasping a parcel was held high above her head, while with the other she kept beating down the dog, which flew savagely at her arm and her shoulder, sometimes leaping almost as high as the parcel in her hand. Fetch it, good dog! fetch it!" cried the boys, with roars of laughter. "Oh, the satin, the satin!" the girl kept saying, desperately, too busy defending herself to cry out or make a noise. “Oh, the satin, the satin!" And all the while the dog was leaping higher and higher, the girl's weary arm was relaxing, and the sunshine was coming dancing through the swaying branches, glittering over her bare yellow head and flushed face, as if in sheer merry mockery of her terror. Then up dashed the rider. A few skilful cuts with his whip sent the enemy, dog and boys together, all howling in chorus, and flying at their utmost speed. "The little devils! I have a mind to ride after them," said the rider. "Oh, please, don't punish them any more," said Hester. "They are only children, and they didn't mean to hurt." By this time Hester had put her cloak straight, and was tying her bonnet strings, and tightening the bindings of her parcel, containing the plum-coloured satin for Lady Humphrey's new dress. And the stranger was observing her earnestly. "I cannot be mistaken," he said at last; "you are Hester Cashel." " "Yes," said Hester smiling; " and you are Mr. Humphrey." And how, in the name of wonder," said he, "do you come to be here alone with that great parcel on your hands? When did you return from your school in France?" "I never was at school in France," said Hester. " "My mother told me he muttered, and stopped suddenly. Hester turned pale. She had been indulging all the day in I know not what pleasant visions of a kinder and more helpful Lady Humphrey than she had ever yet known, to be met with at the end of this journey. Her old distrust of her VOL. XXXV.-No. 411. 2 M benefactress was roused now at a word; and she wished herself back again in Sloane Street. 'Why will you not shake hands with me, little Hester? asked Pierce Humphrey, as the girl persisted in not noticing his outstretched hand. Hester hesitated a moment, then laid her hand frankly and gravely on his, with an air as if to say, "I will do it for this once.' "What is the drawback?" asked Pierce smiling. "Why, you see," said Hester, hugging her parcel, and regarding the young officer with a business-like air, "when I knew you before, I was a sort of young lady with your mother up yonder, but now I am a dressmaker's apprentice. I am only the young person from Mrs. Gossamer's, coming to fit on Lady Humphrey's new gown. And dressmaker's apprentices are not expected to shake hands with officers in the king's service." "Well, upon my word! what a bit of pride to be sure! A dressmaker's apprentice. I must see what is the meaning of this. A dressmaker's apprentice! You no more look the part than I look like the Emperor of China. Why, Hester, your father was a gentleman." "No matter," said Hester, with an imperious little nod of her head that shook two great tears from her eye-lashes. "I can earn the bread I eat, and that is better than being lady or gentleman. It is late now, Mr. Humphrey, and I must get on to the Palace. I am very much obliged to you for sending that dog away." "But you are not going to carry that great parcel," said Pierce Humphrey. Give it me and I will lay it across my saddle. I am going to the palace also." "You forget how the people would laugh," said Hester, smiling in quite a motherly way at his good nature. The young soldier reflected a little, and did not urge this point. "Well, at least, I insist upon your allowing me to escort you," he persisted. But Hester remembered some holiday adventures related by one Sally Perkins in the workroom, and she steadfastly refused the honour of Mr. Humphrey's protection on her way. "You will give me pain if you do," she said, earnestly. "Then I will not give you pain," said Pierce Humphrey, gallantly; and he rode off at a quick pace towards the Palace. ROSA MULHOLLAND GILBERT. (To be continued.) OUR LADY'S BIRTHDAY (SEPTEMBER 8) CLAD in her garb of wondrous weaving, Kissing the hills with lips of ruby, Clear sing the birds their hymns of greeting Over their beds the brooks are babbling, Blithely as birds, our hearts are singing, Bright is Her robe with gems of glory, Welcome to earth, O maiden spotless! Guard for thy Son our hearts, dear Mother, Shield us from sin and from crime, Till from our lives the Dawn Eternal Chases the shadows of time. F. M. B. TH LOUISE MICHEL HE subject of this sketch, Louise Gimet, was one of the worst among the Paris Communists in 1871; her life was compiled by Dr. Boissarie from facts given to him by Sister de la Garde of St. Joseph's Convent, Montpelier, who was instrumental in the marvellous change and conversion in this remarkable penitent who was thirty-three years of age at the time of the Commune. Tall, strong, energetic, her expression of face was stern, yet now and then softened by gleams of brightness and sweetness; heart and soul she joined in the Revolution, and, being a friend of Garibaldi, she held a high position among the Freemasons, and developed a strong taste for military tactics which she quickly acquired. Under the Commune she took the name "Captain Pigerre,' and wore the uniform of a captain with a red sash; usually attending at the head of her company at the deaths of condemned prisoners, thus gratifying her blood-thirsty nature. She presided at the shooting of Monsignor Darboy, Archbishop of Paris, on May 24, 1871. After the third round was fired, he still breathed, she went forward and despatched him with a brutal kick in the head, then savagely trampled on his dead body. Four or five days later, when the Archbishop's remains were brought home, Abbé Schaepfer and other witnesses were surprised at finding the face disfigured and unrecognisable; the effects of Louise's maltreatment, no ball having struck the head. On May 26, she again headed her men at the death of Père Olivaint, S.J., reserving to herself the right of firing the first shot. At this moment Père Olivaint, noticing the disguise, said, "Madame, this costume is not becoming." As time went on, if holy Père Olivaint's name were mentioned in her hearing, she trembled, and could not conceal her remorseful expression; later on, the unhappy woman, among the many crimes and scandals of her past life, confessed to having murdered thirteen priests. Arrested in arms on the Barricades, Pigerre was tried by court martial, and condemned to death. The Superioress of St. Lazare, anxious to save this sinful soul, begged for a reprieve |