AURICE MOORE and his bride,

M Lilian, flushed with love and ex

citement, followed the guide and his party down through Chinatown. The streets were brilliantly decorated with lanterns, bright-colored flags; lilies potted in odd vases bloomed along their path; fire-works illumined the whole district, for it was the celebration of the Chinese New Year.

Lilian's dreamy blue eyes peeped, from under her brown sailor, up at the tall, wide-awake husband at her side; she clung tightly to his arm, but half heeding his remarks, herself charmed into silence by the scene.

They visited the shops crowded with jade, peacock-feathered fans, Oriental parasols, quaint pottery, dragon-embroidered cloths of silver and gold. Then, on they went to a Joss house, smoky with sweet-burning incense, smouldering upon altars where, perhaps, prince and princess had the Buddha.

The guide led them through long dark alleys, down into basements, where several large families dwelt together in one room, divided into apartments by bright draperies and ornamented screens.

From dark alleys, he guided the party up long winding stairways, into one of the finest Tong houses of the city. As they admired the old paintings, the handcarved teekwood furniture; Lilian, standing apart, saw her reflection in a mirror, framed in blue and gold, enameled with curious Chinese emblems. Closing her eyes, the fumes of the sweet-burning incense cast on the spell of the Orient, vivid with mystery. In place of a brown tailored suit, she saw a silk jacket and pantalets embroidered with blue birds. The blue eyes, the mass of yellow, fluffy hair, that she knew as her own. Why, what strange thing was this? Black hair arranged in Oriental style framed her face, and black, almond-shaped eyes peered at her. Lilian brushed her hand across her eyes and opened them quickly.

"I-I'm mesmerized by this sweetburning incense. I must go out," she murmured to herself; and immediately pushed her husband out of the room, ahead of the guide.

They stopped next at the Chinese concert. The music sounded to Maurice like a whole symphony of discords. To Lilian there was harmony in the weird sounds—

and something more. A new bewildering emotion possessed her. It was as if the thing she heard was familiar-yet, not familiar. The music pulled at her heartstrings, and seemed to say: "Don't you remember?" "Remember what?" she said, aloud; then blsuhing for her own silliness, looked around to see if anyone had heard her.

"I've had enough of this!" exclaimed Maurice, and, leaving the party, they went into one of the Chinese tea rooms.

A peculiar odor of burning incense greeted them; and Lilian at once bought a package, with instructions that she must never inhale too much of it in a closed room, for they burned this incense only a few seconds at a time, just to get the sweet Oriental odor, without the sleepy effect. The old Poppy man, as Lilian named him, informed her that he never sold that incense to customers, but she was different, for she had told him of her mania for sweet-burning incense. The tea room decorated with lanterns, manycolored, shed a soft light upon the cozy corners behind the screens. Lilies potted with tiny pebbles sprung forth from clumps of melted bottles. A big round table stood in the center of the room, where tea, cakes, preserved ginger and candied Chinese fruit were served.

"Come out of it, Lilian! Shake the trance and drink your tea," Maurice exclaimed, as he teasingly pinched her arm.

"Do you notice, Maurice, this burning incense mesmerizes one? It fascinates me, yet I'm afraid."

"Oh, shucks, honey!" Maurice said, patting her hand. "Why, there's nothing to fear, with a big husky like me to protect you."

"But, Maurice," she urged, "down in the Tong house I had a strange vision. I saw myself change into a Chinese maiden -black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and all."

"Oh, she's rather attractive. But, no China for me! I'd just as soon have colored blood as a yellow streak. But come! It's time for me to take you home, honey."

Later, Lilian placed the burning joss sticks on her dresser, slowing inhaling their perfumed incense. She stood before the mirror brushing her fluffy yellow hair, thankful that her vision of Oriental black hair and almond-shaped eyes was only a dream, brought on by the mysterious influence of sweet-burning incense.

"Oh, Aunt Mary!" she cried as her foster aunt came into the room, “I'm the happiest girl in the world! You can't find any fault with Maurice, Aunty, for he's the best, the dearest, and-"

"Lilian, my darling child!" interrupted Aunt Mary, "I want you to be happy; and I feel Maurice is all that you say.' Lilian saw Aunt Mary's soft white hair and troubled face in the mirror over her shoulder.

"But Aunty, why look so serious, then? Maurice is working up a big law practice now; and we are going to have the dearest little bungalow, with yellow and baby crimson roses playing hide and seek all over it."

"It is all on the good qualities of Maurice that I forgive you for getting married without my consent, and against your father's wishes. You were not to marry until you were eighteen; and you were first to read a letter-”

"Yes, but if daddy were alive I know he would forgive when he met Maurice."

Aunt Mary kissed Lilian, and hastily left the room without speaking further upon the subject. Lilian bent low over the joss sticks, inhaling their sweet perfume.

honor and obey, while the solemn minister read the ceremony? I can hear the congregation whisper, 'He is so tall, and dark, and handsome; what could he have seen in that baby-faced blonde?'" Dreaming. she glanced into the mirror again. Instead of orange blossoms, she saw lilies, Chinese lilies, in her hair! Hurriedly she smothered the joss candles, though something seemed to say, "Look! Don't you remember?"

She told herself, "This sweet-burning incense fascinates me; yet, it is getting on my nerves-I'm seeing things."

"Lilian, dear," said her aunt, as she came back into the room, "where is Maurice?"

"Oh, he's downstairs smoking, and looking over some papers before he goes to bed. Why, Auntie?"

"You are eighteen, dearie, and I feel it my duty to tell you all I know about your family history, even if you did disobey, and get married."

"But, Auntie, you always told me you didn't know anything; that my daddy gave me away when I was born; that I never had a real mother. And that I must not marry before I was eighteen. So we just ran away and got married, anyway."

"Lilian, your father loved you dearly. He never gave you away; he only left you in my care, until his return from abroad; but he died over there. Your mother died when you were born, and your father was so grieved over it that he could not speak of her. He even named you for your mother."

Aunt Mary stroked the girl's soft yellow hair. "You resemble your father some; the same blue-gray eyes, only his were melancholy eyes, while yours are happy ones. He was a large man, and you are such a wee thing!"

"But why did my father put all of these things in the way of my marriage?"

Aunt Mary hastily took a letter from the desk, and handed it to Lilian. "This letter is from your father, dear, and you were to read it upon your eighteenth birthday. It has been all this time in the safety deposit box. I took it out yesterday."

The sweet odor of burning incense filled the room. Lilian tore open the envelope. At that moment did a spirit hand lay a finger of warning on Aunt Mary's arm? She reached out and took the letter. Her hand trembled.

"I-I-I think I've given you the wrong letter, dear.' wrong letter, dear." Aunt Mary glanced at the letter, read it again carefully, without looking up.

Lilian spoke a trifle impatiently. “Aunt Mary, is it the right letter?"

Aunt Mary hurriedly tucked the missive into her belt; in a choked voice she whispered, "I-I was mistaken, Lilian, dear; this is not for your eyes." She hastily left the room, without any further explanation, just as Maurice entered, smiling.

"Don't run away, Aunt Mary," he said, "just because I came."

"Maurice," said Lilian, closing the door, "Aunt Mary acted queerly tonight. She brought me a letter, saying it was from father, and after looking it over she said it was a mistake; it wasnt' meant for me."

"Well, honey, perhaps she did bring the wrong letter."

"Oh, but my name was on it!"

"That's nothing, honey," argued Maurice, "she may have put the name on the wrong letter.

He walked over and snuffed out the light of the joss sticks.

"Why the burning incense tonight, Lilian? That's what upsets you, honey; it always does; yet you insist upon lighting the darn things. I'm like Aunt Mary -I believe your sweet-burning incense is bad luck."

He took her in his arms and talked to her of other things; of their future, of their bungalow, wreathed in crimson and yellow roses hanging over the front door, sending out the fragrance of welcome. He talked of love and happiness, rather than of sorrow and mystery, until Lilian forgot all else, and her dreamy blue eyes smiled again.

And the days went by in golden procession, Lilian happy in looking toward the future, delighted now with the love of her husband.

The sun came out after the morning shower and shone upon the raindrops, gustening like so many stars in the alIond trees. The moisture gladdened the blue bird's throat as he sipped the honeydew. Lilian knelt by her hope chest and gently fingered the dainty nainsooks, trimmed with baby laces and blue ribbons; she laid them one by one on Maurice's lap. Aunt Mary came into the room just as Lilian held up a wee shirt embroidered with button-hole stitch of white silk floss. "Look Aunt Mary! Aren't Aren't they darlings?" She hugged them closely to her. Maurice caressed lightly the tiny garments that lay across his knee, fearful that his big hands might crush them. The love light lingered in his frank eyes and his gaze rested upon her golden, sunkissed hair.

Aunt Mary's kindly face brightened, and tears shone in her eyes as she spoke softly, "I wish every blessing upon you, my children." She took the baby shirt from Lilian and held it out, smiling through her tears. "How tiny and precious! Perhaps this one is as small as was the swaddling cloth of our Saviour."

"Auntie, I wonder if father would be pleased if he were here? And, Aunt Mary, what became of father's letter? Haven't you found it yet? You never speak of it any more. "It is too late now, Lilian dear.

must never read it."

You

"Never read daddy's letter? And why not, Auntie?" Lilian opened wide her dreamy blue eyes. The odor of sweetburning incense stifled the room.

"Lilian, my child, why do you insist upon burning those joss sticks? I-I hate the odor. The fumes choke me." Evasively Aunt Mary had turned the subject, as she had done whenever Lilian had questioned her upon the matter. Maurice quickly extinguished the smouldering fire of the joss sticks and remarked, "Lilian is cultivating a perfect mania for incense, Aunt Mary."

"But why, Auntie," insisted Lilian, not to be turned aside, "why can't I read father's letter? Why is it too late?"

"Because, Lilian dear, you were not to read it if you married before you were

eighteen. And, besides, it wouldn't bring you happiness to read it now."

"But Auntie, where is the letter?"

Maurice gently tried to draw Lilian away, begging her to forget the past and its mystery, and just be happy in today. "Oh, Auntie! Where is the letter?" “Oh, she sobbed. "I want it. I must know my father better, and my people.'

"Lilian, dear, forgive me! I love you as my own." She patted her fluffy yellow hair. "I did it for you. I burned the letter-for you are a happy bride. It is all for the best."

The hour of Lilian's trial came, passed. The sun's rays slyly crept through the drawn shutters, playing hide and seek upon the little white crib, with the big blue bow upon the foot, that stood in the corner of the room. The doctor and the nurse bent low over the baby basket. A faint cry, then a louder one, greeted their ears. "Yes, he'll live," answered the doctor.

"But, it's a shame!" the young nurse whispered, "for the child is plainly marked."

"I don't understand; there's a mystery "Yes, yes," spoke the doctor worriedly. somewhere."

Aunt Mary tiptoed softly into the room over toward the little white crib; she pulled the blankets down and peeped in. "May I see the baby now? Is he all right?" As she gazed her face became horror-stricken; she gave a low moan. "Oh, merciful heavens! It's true; it is true! Lilian's father was right after all." Without glancing toward Lilian, Aunt Mary fled from the room.

The doctor called to the young father, who was bending low over Lilian: "Your son will live." A baby's cry filled the room. Maurice came quickly to the little crib and took the child in his arms. He held him up in the light. "Why, Doc!" he cried, "he looks exactly like a Chinese baby-color, hair, almond-shaped eyes, and all." He scrutinized the baby carefully. "Do you suppose, Doc, that Lilian could have marked the child?" He related their trip through Chinatown, the effect upon Lilian, and her mania for sweet-burning incense.

"Perhaps, Maurice. It is possible." The doctor caught at the suggestion. He slapped Maurice on the back. "The baby will doubtless change color as he grows older."

Maurice held the baby up close to his heart. "I love you, little fellow, for you are mine and Lilian's baby," he said with emotion. Tucking the baby in his little. white basket trimmed with the blue satin bow, he went back to Lilian again.

"Is baby all right, Maurice?" Lilian enquired eagerly; "does he look like you -or me?"

He bent over and kissed her forehead, her soft yellow hair. "Baby's all right. You must be quiet now, honey, and rest. I have another call for that case out of

town that I put off yesterday, and I just can't delay longer. Good-bye, dear; I'll write every night and wire every morning."

"Auntie," Lilian called, later on, as Aunt Mary slipped quietly into the room, "bring baby to me. I want to see him." "He's he's asleep," Aunt Mary answered hesitatingly.

"Please, Auntie, I won't wake him. I must see him.".

Aunt Mary picked up baby and blanket, and carried them to Lilian, placing the child in her arms. tender, searching look-then cried:

She gave a

Tell me what you have been keeping from me. I must know. Why does this baby look-Chinese?"

"He has Chinese blood flowing in his veins."

“Oh, Auntie; it isn't true! Tell me it isn't true," sobbed Lilian.

"Yes, my dear child, it is true." Sorrow and love were the written upon Aunt's face. "The biggest mistake of my life was that I didn't read the letter the day your father gave it to me to put in the safety deposit box. For in that he told the love story about your mother. She was a Chinese girl."

"Don't, Auntie!" cried Lilian; "Ican't endure it. I hate Chinese people! I hate my mother! I hate my father. I hate myself! I-I-almost hate mybaby."

"But, Lilian dear, your father loved you. If you could only remember how much he made of you, and how he talked to you when you were small." Aunt Mary stroked the girl's hair. "Your father did love you. He gave you his name, Ware, mother's name, Lilian."

and

your
"Oh, Auntie!

He will! he will! happy."

Maurice will hate me!

I wanted to make him

"No. Lilian; Maurice loves you too well to ever hate you."

Aunt Mary reasoned and soothed Lilian into a more quiet state. She had to go into town on an errand, and must leave her with only a little nurse girl.

She

"Bring baby to me, Auntie." kissed him and cuddled him in her arms. "I love you, for you are mine and his, my Maurice."

When the Aunt had gone, Lilian at once called the nurse girl to her. "Get me the incense out of the bottom dresser drawer. It is in that package, wrapped in brown paper. There, that's it. Now, light it, and set it close, here at my side. Close the shutters and leave us alone, for the incense will soothe us to sleep, to rest."

Lilian hugged the tiny babe within her arms, and, her golden head on the pillow, lay with a smile in her dreamy blue

eyes.