THE WEST SHORE. " I'.ut who in the woman? Where is she from?" I irrrtijM nnw more, in a fctate of mystification difficult to (I'ncril. M IWd I yxihi Mn you who she vaa I don'd know? I'lid tore ihe gomes from, py golly I don'd iuk hr." " Hut ht doe he want with me? Surely, she mnut have given you &orno hint aa to the nature of lor Imninn with me," I peraihted, desperately. " D4 -znw ihe don'd dalk alx)ud, und Mees-t'-r l'Ule, I am a yentleman, und I don'd shtick my rum init dot lWa vooraan's jtfezneBs." " Oh, certainly, I know you are a gentleman, Mr. (JrarLt; I only thought ihe might have given you mm hint a to the naturo of her business with me," I hanU iiod to answer. M No, fcho gif me no hint; she yust say 1 Dell Mees ter I'lako a lady vrom a var gountry haf gome many rnilci U ieo him " M Many mile," I mused, trying to imagine what !ly would come many miles to see me. Surely it ftuM not U Laura, my affianced wife, for only the wk previous I had received a letter from her, guilt-1-m of any hint of such a move on her part Besides, I.wa wm U) sensible, modest and thoroughly lady hU U have Un guilty of planning such a surprise fur me. She never did anything in questionable tUv Still, who could it lw I M What is ,1m Jik,, Mr. Oracht?" I asked. " Is he small and slender, with rosy cheeks and bright, UujLing, brown eyes?" " Yah," rinded Mr. Oracht, but I imagined Wc, was a doubtful Win his eye. "Yah.dotees tZ'ilnT rWhigndshlim,und h Uf lolly cy,s, bud nM brown, I dink, und not in d'ia innch laugh. She look in doso eyes liko sho haf ll' dot grow in der Fal,rlamL" A UjtlinK ; thought came to me-could Laura be Z v I T ,UKht UrtKvl ,uo action. In V ? ht rl V l-or, distal Dame! fl U invn remanded tj Lis .ui, , i i ratr to get acre the mountains at all. No, surely it could not be my Laura; but then, on the other hand, who could it be 1 So persistently did this problem present itself to my mind, unattended by any shadow of solution, that by the time I reached the little hotel in Yum Yum I felt as though my brain were rapidly resolving itself into a huge interrogation point Without any delay mine host ushered me into his . diminutive parlor, and went away to " pring dot lee dle vooman." Scarcely three minutes elapsed ere the door open ed, and a lady entered. I use the word "lady " in its finest sense, for in that first instant, the very way in which she entered the room and closed the door con veyed that intangible something which bespeaks a creature born and bred within the magic circles of refinement One or two other convictions were borne in upon me in that brief instant, while she closed the door. First, that she was not Laura; and second, that I had never seen her before. I arose and bowed, as she came forward with her eyes fixed earnestly on my face. "Are you Mr. Charles Blake?" Her voice was low and melodious as the tinkle of bells softened by distance, yet there was an under tone of intensity that told of strong feeling held in restraint by an effort of the will. " That is my name, madam," I replied, adding quickly, as I saw the soft eyes fill with tears, "In what way can I serve you?" For reply, she drew a letter from her pocket, which she unfolded and tremulously held toward me. " Bid you send me this, Mr. Blake?" I took the sheet in my hand, wonderingly, and held it up that the light from the one window might jail upon it With one glance I recognized the let terthe one I had written at Roy Mason's dictation a year before. I staggered, and leaned on my chair for support, while everything in the little room seemed swaying and swimming about me in confusion. " Yu are-you I stammered, my lips re losing to frame the name. " I am Edith Mason," 8he answered, in the same 1 Ded tone' "and y are the writer of this ba iVr 5',U nt? You ere "h my-my-hus-baDd in his last hours?" I 1 could not speak. to hJl aQ tdI me where he you can take me grave, can you not, Mr. Blake?" of mo ir?8' appealiDe ord tad been drops uuiu?n iron tlioir a u . . . . , more keenly.