The Senator's Favorite. Alex. McVeigh Miller

two young men, although acquainted but a few days, had become fast friends.

      It was the nobleman's deep solicitude over the fate of Precious that had first drawn Earle toward him. Lord Chester's services were always ready in any new plan for finding Precious; he was as eager as Earle himself in the search.

      The Winans family believed that all this zeal was for the sake of Ethel, whom the nobleman had seemed to admire so much that gossip said he would certainly make her Lady Chester at no distant date.

      So Earle had taken the handsome young nobleman warmly into his heart and confidence.

      They had been walking together that chilly afternoon, several blocks away from the place, when the light of the burning building drew them to follow the crowd to the spot.

      They arrived but a few moments after Ethel had turned away from the dreadful scene, hardening her jealous heart against the voice of accusing conscience, and answering to its reproaches: "I tried to save her, and it was through her own cowardice she perished."

      When her brother and Lord Chester came on the scene they heard some one saying:

      "There is a dog shut up in that house. Hear his frightful baying!"

      They could hear it distinctly, the prolonged mournful howls, and it seemed as if the sounds came from an open window.

      "The window is open. Why don't the foolish animal come out?" cried Earle Winans, and just then the streams of water playing on the side of the wall cleared away the smoke a little, and the animal was seen a moment dimly, then with another howl he fell back into the room.

      "He is bewildered and afraid to jump," cried a fireman, as poor Kay's dismal wails came distinctly to the ears of the crowd.

      "Perhaps there is some person in the room, and he is too faithful to desert his post. Dogs are often more faithful than friends. Put up a ladder, and I will go and see," exclaimed Lord Chester suddenly.

      "No, no! you must not risk your life for a dog, even a faithful one," cried Earle, trying to hold his friend back, for the situation was very perilous.

      "No, no! I must save that poor dog!" Lord Chester cried, breaking loose and ascending the ladder, while the shouts of the tumultuous crowd rang to heaven.

      Slowly, carefully, through the blinding smoke and heat and threatening flame he went, and presently his head rose above the sill of the open window and he peered into the room, which seemed full of black smoke and leaping flames.

      He put out his hand and it touched a big tawny head.

      "Come, good fellow, come," he cried, and tried to drag him out.

      Then he made a startling discovery.

      The faithful mastiff had dragged an unconscious human being to the window with his teeth, and was holding her up by a mass of golden hair in a vain effort to get her up to the sill, where she might be seen and rescued by the crowd.

       CHAPTER X.

      "HIS HEART WILL TURN BACK TO ME."

      "Eyes that loved me once, I pray

      Be not crueler than death;

      Hide each sharp-edged glance away

      Underneath its cruel sheath!

      Make me not, sweet eyes, with scorn,

      Mourn that I was ever born!"—Alice Cary.

      Through the falling twilight of the bleak March day Ethel Winans sped away like a guilty creature, nor paused until she reached her home.

      Entering by a private door she gained her own room unobserved and hastened to bathe her face and hands and rearrange her disordered tresses.

      Then she summoned Hetty, and the maid stared in surprise at her corpse-like pallor and heavy eyes.

      "Oh, Miss Ethel, you look awful! Are you sick?"

      "I am tired to death," sighed Ethel. "I have had such a long, weary chase after Kay! Oh, Hetty, I have lost him, but you must never, never tell, for papa would never forgive me if he knew. He ran off with some other dogs in a park, and though I ran and ran I could not get him back."