ussion among the members of the Bar, and which in an appeal form
he had that day consented to argue before the Supreme Court. As he
entered the front room, the clerk looked up.

"Stuart, has Elliott brought back the papers?"

"Not yet, sir. There was a young lady here a moment ago. Did you meet
her?"

"No. What was her business?"

"She did not say. Asked for you, and would not wait."

"What name?"

"Did not give any. Think she left a note on your desk. She was the
loveliest creature I ever looked at."

"My desk? Hereafter in my absence allow no one to enter my private
office. I did not consider it necessary to caution you, or inform you
that my desk is not public property, but designed for my exclusive
service. In future when I am out keep that door locked. Step around
to Fitzgerald's and get that volume of Reports he borrowed last
week." The young man coloured, picked up his hat, and disappeared;
and the lawyer walked into his sanctum and approached his desk.

Seating himself in the large revolving chair, his eyes fell instantly
upon the long sheet, with the few lines traced in a delicate feminine
hand.

Over his cold face swept a marvellous change, strangely softening its
outlines and expression. He examined the writing curiously, taking
off his glasses and holding the paper close to his eyes; and he
detected the alteration in the "Dear," which had evidently been
commenced as "My."

Laying it open before him, he took the pen, wrote "my" before the
"dear," and drawing a line through the "Regina Orme," substituted
above it "Lily."

In her haste she had left on the desk one glove, and her small ivory
_porte-monnaie_ which her mother had sent from Rome.

He took up the little pearl-grey kid, redolent of Lubin's "violet,"
and spread out the almost childishly small fingers on his own broad
palm, which suddenly closed over it like a vice; then with a half
smile of strange tenderness, in which all the stony sternness of lips
and chin seemed steeped and melted, he drew the glove softly,
caressingly over his bronzed cheek.

Pressing the spring of the purse, it opened and showed him two small
gold dollars, and a five dollar bill. In another compartment, wrapped
in tissue paper, was a small bunch of pressed violets, tied with a
bit of blue sewing silk. Upon the inside of the paper was written:

"Gathered at Agra. April 8th, 18--."

He knew Mr. Lindsay's handwriting, and his teeth closed firmly as he
refolded