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ML O S T. A Great English Story. BT JO EX C. mrCKD, ACTHOB OF “ BY THE BOAHSE CHAPTER XX—Contixted. Some evenings after that scene by the Tha Zollwitz stood in bis room and loo around. His books were arranged for packi trunks already filled. The ;walls loo | mournfully on the despoiling process, knowing | that they would soon lose that inmate whose | musings, many sorrows, and few joys, they had shared. Zollwitz stood there, having just freed | himself from the signs of his dusty occupation— I fresh and gladsome, like a warrior ready for ' life’s battle, and eager for the fray. His figure j was reflected in the glass, straight and noble— 1 such as nature should give us more of—coming from an old stock, dating back to the union of a princely German dame and a Slavonian land holder; dating back to that early history of Ger many when the kingdom of Poland lorded it ' high and mightily over Silician dukes. There was a bright line of Zollwitz to be counted, but brighter than all shone the light of that one who fell by the side of Duke Henry II. the Pi- 1 us. on April 9th, 1241. Zollwitz stood there, in the glow of the even tide. In his veins coursed the daring and hot blood of the ancestral father, in his soul lived the gentler influence of the ancestral mother. Would he belie their name, or conquer that evil demon, and crush the curse that his own parents had left on him? Zollwitz lifted up his eyes, one deep sigh escaped him, one light pressure of the hand to the heart; and then, with manly courage, Eros went to find his Psyche. Ethel, in white muslin dress, looked general ly at that time after her favorite plants in the conservatory, trimming them and nursing them daintily. The Darners were not fond of rushing , about every evening, and many a one was spent at home in home occupations. Zollwitz went down, his heart beating. The conservatory was in a nook built out sideways from the drawing room—a nook of its own, having a charmidg reading-cabinet attached to it There was Psy che in white, flattering, like her typical Greek sis ter—with butterfly wings over her flowers. A shadow fell,land Eros stood by her side. They both knew each others presence; they spoke not, —did they breathe? So they stood Eros and Psy che, for some minutes. Then Zollwitz began in tremulous but manly accents, his mother tongue known sufficiently to Ethel, giving forth the words of those heart-pulsations: “ I love thee—thou art my heart's choice; for thee I will strive. Oh wait thou for me T Stillness reigned in that conservatory, and clearly came back the words “I wilL” There stood two souls united forever; and— who would bolieve it ?—not an endearment pass ed. From Ethel’s hand did Zollwitz take the flattering blossom. Once more he whispered “ Oh, wait thou for me!" and was gone. Harry found Ethel on that same spot a quar ter of an hour later. “ Are you a stature, Ethel ? How beautiful you look to-night! how large and glorious your eyes shine! Ethel, there is a tear-drop in one of them! Ethel, what is the matter?” Ethel felt she must give some vent to new feelings, some active demonstration,