THE Rectory stood on one side of the road, and the linen manufactory was on the other, just on the banks of "the silver Bann." Sloping verdant hills lay around, generally-at all events during the sunny season of the year-decorated with the linen in process of being bleached. A little way from the manufactory, and with its orchard skirting the river's bank, stood an old-fashioned, substantial-looking, gray stone country-house, standing in the midst of trimly-kept grounds. In the summer time the roses clambered in wild profusion all over the walls of the house, and peeped in at the wide windows; but at this season of the year there were no roses to peep in, for it was a bleak dreary afternoon in February, with the wind whistling and driving the rain against the windows. But, suppostug there had been roses to peep in at the windows, he would have been very hard to please who could have wished to look upon a prettier face or form than that of Gracie MacAlister, who, seated on the heartbrug in the drawing-room, in a position more indicative of comfort than elegance, was holding a most animated dialogue with a pleasant delicate-looking lady, who was lying on a couch by the fire.

Dialogue? Monologue, rather; for Miss Gracie hardly gave her placid, gentle mother any opportunity of putting in a word. Perhaps it was not to be wondered at, seeing that she was telling her mother all about that momentous event in the life of a young lady-her first "grown-up" ball.

"And O mother dear," she cried, "if you could only have seen the headdress Mrs. Harley wore! Why I think it had all the plagues of Egypt upon it-flies, and locusts, and reptiles of all kinds."

"Gracie, you should not be satirical," said her mother.

"And, mother," continued Gracie, heedless of the remark she had just heard, "I made the same observation to Willie Crosbie; and he said Mrs. Harley's headdress was nothing, as there was another lady in the room far more daring, for he verily believed she had a scorpion on her head."

"Will you ever get sense, Gracie ?" interrupted her mother.

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Well, really," resumed Gracie," Willie took me to inspect this wonderful animal; and we concluded that it was either a scorpion or a crocodile."

Get off the hearthrug, Gracie," said her mother. "You are scorching your face; and besides, you are too old to be sitting there like a little girl. It is not a dignified position for a young lady just 'come out."" And the fond mother looked proudly at her lovely daughter.

"Mother dear, I am sorry you were not able to come to the ball last night," said Gracie. "I should have enjoyed it twice as much as going with Aunt Jane; but I assure you I was very proper, and didn't flirt a bit more than was absolutely necessary." You saucy girl!" exclaimed her mother. "Was it absolutely necessary to flirt at all ?" "O dear, yes!" replied Gracie. "You know it was an officers' ball, and of course I was obliged to flirt just enough to let them think what an agreeable member of society I am."

"What an agreeable member of society you are!" repeated her mother. 66 'Why, do you suppose any one of them will give you a second thought?"

"Indeed I know one who will," said Gracie, turning her bright eyes laughingly on her mother-" and such a nice man too; only I am afraid he did not consider me quite grown-up."

"That must have been very trying to your feelings," observed her mother, dryly. May I ask what led you to come to that conclusion ?"

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ticularly, as I knew who would send me valentines, and I did not care for them. Then he said he would send me one if I would answer it. So I agreed to do so. Wont it be fuu? Don't look so shocked, please, mother."

Gracie, Gracie, you are a dreadful girl! You must not think of doing such a thing."

"But, mother, I promised; and, if he sends me one, I must send him one, too. He's quite nice," she continued, anxious to prepossess her mother in her admirer's favor; "he is Captain Edgar Vilmar, of the-th Rangers."

"No matter who he is, dear; you should be more reserved in your conversation with gentlemen. Come to luncheon now, and then go to your practising afterwards."

"It's too bad," soliloquized Gracic, as she dashed off a brilliant "Mazurka," "to think I may not answer his valentine; and he's the nicest man I ever met-and an officer, too. I wish I could see him and tell him. I am sure he will keep his word, and of course he will think me horrible to break mine." And Gracie thought that to be considered "horrible" by Captain Edgar Vilmar would be very dreadful indeed.

Gracie MacAlister was the only daughter and heiress of Mr. George MacAlister, the owner of one of the large linen manufactories which are so common in the north of Ireland. She was just past seventeen, a blithesome innocent girl, gradually ripening into womanhood. She had a perfectly shaped oval face but faintly tinged with color, which was, however, fully made up for by the rich coloring of the prettily curved lips, and by the delicately pencilled eyebrows that surmounted a pair of lovely violet-blue eyes. She was of about the middle height, and a mass of soft wayy brown hair crowned her well-shaped head.

Gracie played on, her thoughts all the time running upon the probabilities of Captain Vilmar's sending her a valentine. One minute she wished he would do soshe thought she should like him to think about her again; then the next minute she wished he would not, for of course she could not send him one in return. Her mother had been lecturing her during the whole of luncheon time, and presenting her conduct to her "mind's eye" in such grave colors that poor Gracie felt ready to cry with shame and vexation.

"How do you do, Miss MacAlister? 1 would not let the servant announce me, as I wished to hear that pretty set of waltzes you were playing." And the subject of her thoughts advanced towards the alcove where the piano stood.

"Captain Vilmar! Does my mother know you are here ?"

"I really do not know," he replied. "I seem to have disturbed you?"

"O no, you haven't disturbed me!" said Gracie; "but what a dreadfully wet day for you to come out!"'

"I called to know how you enjoyed your ball. You had great fun, hadn't you?"

"Yes, I enjoyed it very much," said Gracie, adding to herself, "Dear me, what a baby he thinks me!"-then aloud, as her mother entered, "Mother, this is Captain Vilmar, the gentleman I was telling you about," she continued, to her mother's extreme annoyance, who very naturally did not wish that any man should have it in his power to say that her Gracie had been thinking of or speaking about him.

"I am happy to see you, Captain Vilmar," she said. "I presume you were one of my daughter's partners last night. It was her first ball, and she has been quite enthusiastic about it."

"She seemed to enjoy herself thoroughly, at all events," said he, looking at Gracie with a smile, much as one looks at a pretty spoiled child.

Mrs. MacAlister-self-possessed woman of the world-managed to engross nearly the whole of the conversation. She had no intention of allowing Gracie to have any more private or confidential interviews with this man until she knew something about him. The longer she conversed with him the more she wondered at the conversation Gracie had repeated to her; for Captain Vilmar did not look at all like the kind of person to trouble his head about such nonsense as valentines. He was a tall distinguished looking man, of about three-and-thirty; dark complexioned, and with a face which would have been decidedly plain but for the rare smile which now and then illumined it, and lit up the honest brown eyes; the mouth was shaded by a thick drooping mustache, the rest of the face being shaved a la militaire. Gracie felt rather proud of her admirer; she thought he was a great deal nicer than Mr. Hawkins the curate, although Mr. Hawkins

had lovely, fair, curly hair, which he parted down the middle; and nicer than Willie Crosbie, who was the son of a neighboring manufacturer, and a devoted admirer of Gracie's; and she feit sure that, since he had taken the trouble to come and see her, he would not forget about the valentine.

Captain Vilmar soon rose to go, but not before he had obtained permission to call again-a circumstance which greatly delighted Gracie. Her satisfaction was oblivious enough to secretly annoy her mother, and very much please Captain Vilmar, who sat that evening in his sitting-room at the hotel nervously penning a few honest, manly, loving words, which Gracie's bright look when saying farewell that afternoon had given him courage to write.

"Jessie," said Mr. MacAlister to his wife, as they sat alone together that night after Gracie had gone to bed, "I received a proposal of marriage to-day for our Gracie."

"From whom?" she inquired, eagerly, her thoughts reverting to Captain Vilmar. "From Mr. Marmaduke Osborne," he replied. "Certainly he is much older than Gracie, but it would be a splendid match for her."

The mother's eyes glistened; Mr. Osborne was closely connected with the aristocracy, and moved in the best societymany a titled mother would willingly have given him a daughter in marriage-and a proud woman was Mrs. MacAlister when she heard of the proposal. At last that for which she had planned and schemed all her life seemed within her grasp; for, despite her husband's reputed great wealth, she had failed in gaining admittance within the charmed circle of high life-being the wife of "a manufacturer," she was by common consent ostracised. She did not reflect that the man to whom she was willing to give her pure innocent young daughter was old enough to be that daughter's grandfather, and that he was a noted roue and gambler besides. No, she only thought that she would be enabled to hold her head higher than other mothers in her station in life.

"Where did Mr. Osborne see Gracie ?" she inquired.

"At the ball last night."

"By-the-by," said Mrs. MacAlister, 66 that reminds me-a Captain Vilmar,

whom she met there, also called here today, and I really think Gracie seemed quite to encourage him."

"Nonsense!" returned Mr. MacAlister, in a tone of annoyance; "she must put all such ideas out of her head. I know what these military men are-a set of fortunehunters."

"Then I assure you he and Gracie seemed to have made rapid advances," said Mrs. MacAlister, "for there was some talk of valentines between them."

"I wonder at you, Jessie!" exclaimed her husband, now thoroughly angry. "You know I told you a year ago that Gracie must make a good marriage."

"But I thought, dear," said the wife, nervously, "that all occasion for that was past. Are not your affairs in a more settled state ?"

Mr. MacAlister hesitated; he almost shrank from telling his wife the real state of the case, but he knew that without her help nothing could be done in the matter. Gazing gloomily, so as not to meet her gaze, he said, "No-affairs are worse than they have ever been. The new machinery that has just been put up at such enormous expense is lying there idle; next to nothing is doing in consequence of this talked-of war."

But, George dear, will not the soldiers want linen?" asked the wife, thinking she

was saying something comforting.

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"O, you women understand nothing about business!" he replied. "However, you can help me if you like."

"How?" said she, eagerly. "By bringing Gracie round to marry Osborne," was the reply. "I know girls have sentimental notions, but you must get them out of her head. He has plenty of money, and I have no doubt will be glad enough to lend me some if he thinks he can get Gracie."

"I shall do my best," said his wife "Gracie ought not to require much persuasion; it would be a most brilliant marriage for a girl in her position."

"Mr. Osborne is to dine here to-morrow," continued Mr. MacAlister; 66 so prepare Gracie to make herself agreeable to him. And mind, I'll not have any flirtation or nonsense with that officer fellow. If he comes here, just give him the cold shoulder."

"Let me manage it," said Mrs. Mac