The Wingham Times, 1888-04-06, Page 4f•
•
‘0*: • it -tA.
GR EAT SECRET
OR,
SHALL IT BE DONE,
CHAPTER XXVII, girl, Mr. Beresford's want of affeetion
The old hatched letter fell from Maclaine for Peggy. It was all detached before,
de Lancry ii fingers and fluttered to the and disjointed and oongueing ; but then I
ground as theriald Stauntooht abrupt mustion I knew— a
' Owed that he recognised the :meet on, the ' "Well, you know—what? asked Madame
paper, and attached a terrible importance
to the discovery.. Reggie snapped up the
fallen paper ane examined it with new in -
tenet as she saw the effect the sight of it
had upon the young Englishinath Madame
de Lanory laid her hand upon hie arm, and
leoked with profound sympathy into his
white and quivering face.
" Poor boy !" she said in a low voice.
He said nothing ; he did not seem to hear
her. He was looking with dull eyes at the
leird-cage which was hanging in the window,
end appeared quite absorbed in watching
the canary inside as it hopped from perch
to perch. But his forehead was wet, and
the muscles of his mouth were twitching,
and his band, as she took it gently in hers,
was nerveless and, unresponsive as that of a
dead man,
"Come, Gerald, don't give way like this,
frightened like a girl by something you
don't understand," continued Madame de
Lanory in a louder, more stirring voice.
He shuddered from head to foot, as one
might imagine a statue would do if brought
suddenly to painful life; and moistening
his mouth by an effort as he turned toward
her and looked into her face with haggard
eyes, he said huskily :
"I do understand."
Then he broke away from her kind detain-
ing sleep, and picked up his hat, which he
had allowed to fall, and took from the brim
a scrap of white cotton which it had gath-
ered from the carpet, and withdrew to the
window with only one distinct feeling; that
of thankfulness that he had just missed mak-
ing a fearful "scene.' For his blood was
leaping and boilinghn his veins, he felt con.
soma of the surging of a torrent, the tu-
mult of a storm, whether in him or around
him he scarcely realised. He felt no dis-
tinct sensation of pain, or horror, or Sur-
prise, no fact remained clear in his mind.
His -whole being was as if uprooted, and the
wrench left him for the tine incapable of
anything but mechanical movement as an
automaton.
Machine de Lancry had suffered too much
from violent shook; of the same kind to be
surprised at. any effect of a blow like this
and she did not, as Rosalie did, mistake his
dead calmness for sangfroid and marvel at
the stolidity of Englishmen, which enable
them to reeover from a deadly blow to their
emotions more quickly than a Frenchman
from a twinge ot tooth -ache.
"And yet it must have been something
that would have hit another man hard, to
make him go white like that 1" Rosalie re-
fiected as she watched the young tallow
assist Madame de Lanory into the coupe;
and weighed in her hand affectionately the
money she had received from the lady for
her long kept secret, and for the letters
which confirmed part of it.
Gerald was 'hard hit. He sat beside Ma-
dame de Lancry during the drive back into
`Pariti; very silently and almost withouta
movement. A dull pain at his heart, one
awful thought in his head, had succeeded to
the lethargyinto which horror had cast him. His companion looked at him from time to
time; but knowing that the hour for advice
a-• he or consolation was not yet come, she remain-
ed so sympathetically quiet and still that
the young man felt that he was alone, yet
that in his grief, deep as it was, he was not
lonely. As they drew near to the boulevards
again she touched his shoulder gently.
"Tell the cocker to drive w St. Ger-
maine," she said simply.
Gerald obeyed; but as he drew in his
head after giving the order, he asked va-
cantly :
" 'You will put me down, madam, won't
you ? I have to catch the train—at least—"
e
He stopped, and the cold white beads
stood again on his forehead. Madame de
Lancry looked at him inquiringly.
"Where do you want to go to ?"
"God knows !"
The tears were gathering in his eyes as
this answer burst from him ; but he forced
them back, and, not daring to trust himself
to spealhogain for the present, allowed him-
self to be driven along the Champs Elysees
the Avenue Ulrich, and into the Beie with
put protest, and apparently without noticing
where he was doing. And still madame left
him alone, leaningback with closed eyes
and with an expression of face so fixed and
immovable that it might have been mistaken
for a look of perfect serenity.
By the time they had left the Bois, Ger-
ald had recovered sufficieutly from the
first stunned sensation which followed the
shock, to turn to his companion and ask her
where she was taking him,
"Taking you ? you think I have some
special object in keeping you with me ?"
"I am sure of it ; you do nothing by
chance in this affair."
"I am going with you, taking you, to St.
Germaine."
"What for, madame 7"
" To tell you an old story."
"A gory 1 Another story! I think I
have heard enough for one day."
"I want to know the meaning you gave
to Rosalie't; long-winded revelations. Are
you ready to tell nim now ?"
"1 will tell you 'whatever you please;
though, since it was your constant hints
and warnings that gave me the key to Ro-
den% salie'e story,I think there is much that
I have to explain to you."
Madame de Lawry Admired the selhoon,
trot which enabled the young man to speak
with his usual brusque straightforwardness;
for she could see that he was still suffering
deeply, and was rather puzzled by the long
duration of the effect of the shock.
" What did the eight of the crest on the
piper tell you ?"
Gerald shuddered. He answered hiiskily,
after a ehort pause :
"1 recognised it as the samo crest I had
seen on the signet -stone. I already knew
that the signet -stone belonged, not as Ionise
thought, to Mr. Beresford, but to the thief,
whom / now know to be M. de Breteuil.
The eight of the letter with the crest sud-
denly reminded me that I had eon a sheet
of the same paper before; it was an old let,
ter from her mother whieh Peggy (Moe show-
ed Me. I did not notion the orest at the
time; I never should have remembered it
but icr seeing that old hitter on the same
sort of paper to -day. It showed and in a MO.
met; What it all meant—your alninta, the
Wry of the deeded Mother Mid the little
de Lenery. mgerly.
He gave her an uneasy look of reproach
for her persistency.
" I knew that Peggy was not Mr.
Berestordea daughter at all ; and that
this scoundrel De Brava, the man
who murdered my father, whom I have
been hunting down in the dark for
you like a bloodhound, by scent and not by
sight, is the father of my own wife."
Madame de Lancry started violently, and
looked at him for a few momenta as if resol-
ved not to believe that she had heard him
rightly ; but the steadfast gam he gave her
in return, full ot unutterable agony but with
intenh determination even in the wild stare
of his eyes, made it impossible to doubt
this.
"You have married that girl 1" said she
in a broken whisper,
" Yee, I married her yesterday morning."
" Yesterday morning 1 In France 1
Without her father's consent 1" cried Mad-
ame de Lawry, eagerly. "Then it is inval-
id, and the marriage—"
"Is perfectly binding, madame," broke in
Gerald, gravely. " It took place in England,
after due publication of the banns, between
two people both of age. Peggy is my wife,
for which I still say, Thank God'!"
"0, well, if you are satisfied with the
connection I have no more to say, except
that it is astonishing that the news of her
father's little irregularities affected you so
much. No doubt his speculations on the
purses of his neighbors will enable him to
endow his daughter with a, nice little fortune.
I congratulate you."
Gerald said nothing to this; he was far
too seriously troubled to be moved by any
such little carping outburst. The lady
seemed rather irritated by his silence,
"Well 1" said she sharply.
" It is not worthy of you, madame to
talk like that," he answered at last. " What
has that poor child ever done that she should
be deserted by her husband at the very time
when she finds out that her father is a vil-
lain ? I did wrong in marrying her without
the consent of the man whom I supposed he
be her father—and I am punished. But she
is blameless as a child—she has had a hard
life already. At least she sha'n't suffer any
more through Inc." He spoke very slowly,
very gravely, but with none of the tender-
ness which had thrilled his voice, and soften-
ed his face at the mention of Peggy.
"You love her still, then 1" said Madame
de Denary in a low, astonished voice.
"God help me 1 No," burst out the young
husband in passionate misery. "The very
thought of seeing again her poor little pale
face makes me shiver, for I know that when
I next meet her I shall see in her features
what I saw in them once before—the like-
ness to the face I saw in the darkness on the
night Mr. Shave was murdered."
You saw it once before, you say ?"
"Yes, Ihhought it was a horrible fancy.
Now I shall never be able tc look at her
without remembering that it is a ghastly
reality."
" What will you •do ?''
" I must take her away—back to England,
I think. I know I can get employment
there by applying to my father's friends. I
am so afraid she may hear something unless
I take her away at once. This selfish old
Beresford must be in league with De Bre-
teuil, since he passed the scoundrel's daugh-
ter off as his own. It will be easy, I expect,
to frighten him into allowing me to take the
girl away by letting him see how much I
know."
"Then you would give up all thoughts of
hunting down De Breteuil?"
" Madame, what can I do 7"
She shrugged her shoulders and said no
more ; but she looked more determined than
ever. Neither spoke again until they were
driving slowly up the steep hill into Saint
Germaine, underneath the iron bars flora
which the little oil lamps swung in the days
of the Terror.
"Tell him to drive to the Pavillon Henri
Quatre," said she.
It was not yet four o'clock, and although
it was only April, the sun was strong, and
the white hotel looked as glaringly clean and
bright as on the afternoon when Madeline
had paid her last memorable visit there.
She left Gerald to follow her as she walked
quickly past the bowing proprietor into the
largo room where she and Louis de Breteuil
and Mr. Staurton had dined together. She
went straight up to the table where they had
sat and looked down upon the fancifully
cut yevehrees in the old-fashioned garden at
the foot of the hill underneath. As she
looked out she forgot the object she had in
coming, the companion she had brought with
her, the long years which had passed since
the ghastly events which followed the merry
little dinner set their seal upon her life. A
respectful cough within a couple of yards of
her momentarily deaf ears recalled her at-
tention. Turning suddenly she saw, stand-
ing reverentially before her beside the table,
a smiling, pompous, urbane creature, whose
long -forgotten face limbed baok into her
memory connected with a sore of trifling
incidents ef that fatal evening. She start-
ed with an exclamation that was almost a
stifled earthen.
"Madame remembers me," said the old
head waiter, more urbane than ever. "It
is eleven years alto I saw. madame here,
though, Weed, I can scarcely believe it
when I see madame just as I saw her there,"
" You remember me 1" cried the lady
abruptly, flushing as she caught sight of
Gerald, as if a new and bright thought had
struck her, and she beckoned the young
Englishman nearer with an ireperimes ges-
ture. " Do you remember also my oomph -
ions 7"
"Perfectly, madame. The one was
gentleman whom 1 have often Mime had the
honor of attending here, though 1 did not
then know who he wae—the illustrious
lionaite, M. de Breteuil." Gerald started and
drew nearer.
"Well, well, and the other 1" said Madame
de /emery, impatiently.
"Tae other, nhadame, 1 remember per-
fectly also. I flatter Myself that, like
princes, I never forget a fem. The second
gentleman who had the honor to accompany
madame was anEngfiehnuath a tall handsome
gentleman, of Middle age, With a short, gray.
fah hoard, and eyes—like monsleur there,"
finished the mama, Whole attention hid been
called to Gerald by the vieible effect them
words of description had upon him!
" Bring some ogee and some hieenite,"
said Madeline, to get rid of the man.
And as ha left the room oho went up to
Gerold, who had sunk demo upon a chair,
with hie head on hie hands.
"You me now why I brought you here,"
said she, in a voice so determined that it
sounded hard. "It was here, on the even-
ing this man remembers, that Louis do
Breteuil found out that your father carried
property of value with him on his way to
Turin. Wedined itt this table ; your father
sat where you are pitting now, I sat here,
De Breteuil sat there talking to us, arnue-
ing ne ; me, the woman whose life he
ruined ; your father, whose life he took,
whose good name be destroyed. For eleven
years this mate has led the most brilliant of
lives, committed other crimes,perhaps for,
;
gotten those early ones he is rich, hon-
ored as honor goes, and, from what I know
of his nature, probably happy. Providence
know e best, perhaps, you will say ; Provi-
dence will end his career in Providence's
own good time, and if the villain 'dim
quietly and peacefully like a good man,
why Providence must look to that an
point the moral its own way. You are a
man and can reason ; and if your blood is
tamer than that of most men of your age,
why all the better for you. But I am only
a woman ,• I cannot school myself to take
things as I ought. I find the means of deal-
ing Justice within my reach ; I only want
another arm to help me deal the blow. But
then I am alive, and justice and revenge
burn in my blood and cry aloud to he fed,
to be satisfied ; the dead are cold and can
cry for nothing; justice and revenge are
not for them."
Gerald sprang up with flushed and quiver -
Mg face'as her last slow words rang like a
knell inhis mare.
"Madame, madame, have mercy, your
words out like knives 1" he said, with his -
dog breath ; "1 will help you—to the end
—come what may,"
As usual, Madame de Lancry did not
waste her efforts. Froin. the weird prophet.
ess, stinging the young man into ardor equal
to her own, she suddenly dropped into the
bored Parisienne as the waiter bustled into
the room with the coffee. Ten minutes later
they were drivineback into Paris as qiuckly
as the tired horse could drag them. The
lady entertained no further parley on the
exciting subject which filled hheir minds.
She took for granted that Gerald had pledged
himself to be at her commands; but when
she gave the direction to go to M. de Bret-
euil's house in the Avenue Friedland, the
young fellow was startled by the svviftness
of her action.
" You are not going to see him now,
madame 7" he hazarded.
" No ; I know he is away at the races at
Auteuil. But I wish to see this Babette.
If she can be bought, which is, from what
you have told me, very probable, it will
simplify the matter.
"Do you wish me to go in with you ?"
"No ; I will tell you plainly what the
work is I want you to do. I will start the
fox, and I want you to run him, to earth."
"What do you mean, madame?" asked
Gerald, who was not used to having his in-
structions in metaphor.
"When my persecutions force De Breteuil
out of his Peals henna, as they will do, you
must follow him to whatever place he makee
for, if it is a thousand miles away. But it
will not be so far."
'"When do you expect De Breteuil to go?"
"I cannot tell you, yet. But if I am suc-
cessful with this Babette, Isbell hear from
her when he, starts, and I will put you at
once on the track."
When they had arrived within few
doors of the great white mansion, they got
out: at Madame de Landry's' suggestion, dis-
missed the coups and engaged a passing
flacre.
"You had better wait here for me in
this," said she. "I don't think I ithall keep
you long waiting, and I may have some.
thing to tell you when I come out,"
She Walked , alone toward tho house arid
Gerald got into their/core, and leant hisheed
back to think. TO guess, toimagine, to regret;
to be miserable, remorseful, impatient; allthis
was easy, but to form clear thoughts seemed
impossible. To track down his father's
murderer at he had promised ; to guard his
unhappy wifo from the knowledge that she
was the wretch's daughter; these two ap-
parently hopelesslyincompatible tasks' he
was bound to strain every nerve to fulfil.
He knew that, and realised the difficulty of
it. But the one idea which would cross and
morose his mind at every point of the coin.
plication was: What share had Mr. Beres-
ford had in all this villainy? And what
steps would he take when he learned that it
was all discovered.
"I think he is the most mysterious figure
in the whole business," he reflected.
At that moment the victoria he had ad-
neired dashed past and drove through the
porte•rochere M. de Breteuirs house. A gen-
tleman was in it alone, but the carriage
passed out of sight too quickly for Gerald
to see him clearly. The young fellow grew
hat at the thought that it was probably the'
man whom they were tracking down.
"If she were to meet him 1" was the cep-
patling suggestion which flashed through his
mind.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
.
In spite of her sttength of mind, of the
eleven years during which the pangs both of
jealousy and of humiliation had presumab-
ly had time to cool, Madame de Lanory
felt, at the asked if Madame de 13reteuil
waster, home, the old sting of bitter mortifi-
cation prick her for a moment aimed as
keenly as over.
"Madame de Breteuite" The name she
herself had borne duting that short fever
of Wild and paesionehe happiness which had
ended abruptly as death. Every stop, as
she followed the silent Formant up -stairs
through the painted hall and the long cor-
ridor, through the open windows of which
came sweet palettes and munde of falling
fountains from the oomervatory, to:totalled
the beautiful 'home which had been paradise
to her with Louis for a god. In the draw,
ing-room,,his fantiatio taste was still more
apparent—his caprice of declining to have
anything about him the counterpart of
which he could see it any other house. A
fashion set by any one elm he Would not
follohe, Chair/4 etmehei, and ottomans
Were twioo at large as those in other Paris
matelene, And the *et ri were twine as low.
Flesh and satin being fashionable, hie font,
Was was Cohered With moat, thickly em.
broidered with sflk, and chenille, and old.
Slime salon mantle-pleoes are usually of Mate
ble, his were Of oared oele. No vete, no
statue, no cabinet, however dark the corner
in Which j .t004, had 14 Counterpart in any
other house in Paris, However inadvertent -
by Maclaine de theory might have fouhd, her
way into this room, she would have known
that it heel been furniehed under the; govern-
ing eye of Louie de Breteull
The servant was not mire whether Madame
de Breteuil was at home to day, He left
Madeline in the salon and went to inquire.
She herself hod no doubt that the game.
Iceoper'e daughter would see her,
"Poor creature," she said to herself.
4' Lett alone by Louis, probably after a ee•
vere moldin, wlth resources bet making
herself ill with bonbons, and trying on dree-
sea and boonete which she epofie in the alt,
to hear that a lady wishes to see her will be
a mad excitement for her. I shall have to
wait while she makers herself look ridiculous
to impress me."
Resigned to this, Madame do Lancry
reamed through the two rooms which Ga.
rald had explored, and peeped into another
at the opposite ead to Babetteh boudoir,
This was a fair-sized room. which looked
small after the other two. The portiere be,
fore the door was drawn aside, and the door
was only just far enough for Madeline to
see that the room looked particularly luxu.
riohs itnd inviting.
" Louis's own room," she thought at once,
and put her head mai the dear, " Study,
or smoking -room, or whatever he called it :
very nice indeed,"
She glanced back through the larger
room ; no one was in them yet. As there.
was every reason why she should make her-
mit well aequainted with the geography of
the place, she d
dipped quickly into the little
room, and looked about her. High windows
on her left hand, overlooking the court-
yard; the rest of the walls hung with
tapestry,not ancient, time -worn, and dull-
oolored, but modern, rich -tinted, and in all
its first beauty of texture and coloring.
There were no seats but cushions, no doors
to be seen. But Madeline had not forgotten
De Breteull's ways, and she inspected every
corner with keen eyes, quite prepared to
meet another pair equally keen peering out
at her from some unsuspicious -looking fold
in the dark hangings, it, a. few moments,
grown bolder, she walked round by the
walls, paused her hand over the tapestry,
and was rewarded by finding that, at a point
opposite to the door by which she had
come in, a double thickness of the hang.
ings concealed a very neatly -introduced
door, distinguished from the next panel
in the wall only by a tiny key.
hole. The door was fastened : by an in-
genious arrangement the rings from which
the overhanging tapestry was suspended
rattled so loudly when the folds were lifted
as to warn any one who might ba on the
other side of the door of an intruder's ap-
proach. She laughed harshly as she let the
tapestry fall from her hand.
"The holy of bodes 1" she said to herself
mockingly. " L011iffil private apartments,
with a little convenient staircase used only
by hhnsolf and one other petiole."
She looked straight in front of her at the
concealing curtain, as shrewdly as if her
eyes actually saw 'what she at hap-hazerd
described. Then she turned slowly, and
her glance fell upon a large half-length pho-
tograph of Louis, in a massive frame of
carved bogoak and silver, which stood by
itself on a low table at one side of the room.
The sight fascinated her; as she looked she
drew nearer until she mine so close to the
picture that she had to stoop, to seo it well,
and from stooping she fell in it few moments
down on her knees, and remained, with her
head supported by her two hands, gazing
into the hard, smiling face of the portrait
with the intensity of a devotee at a shrine.
Worked up by the object of her
visit to a state of great excitement, she
had suddenly taken the fancy, as this
picture caught her eye, to try to re.
call the old feelings, to kindle the old
fire, to look on tile portrait as she would
have done eleven years ago. If time and
fickleness had effaced Louis from her heart
end mind, this would have been impossible;
but to pass from a tempest of hatred into a
vivid remembrance of a tempest of equally
violent fondness was comparatively easy;
and when at lest a heavy step behind her
roused Madeline, it was natural for the new
coiner to mistake her attitude of homage to
the past for that of present devotion.
Madame de Lancry turned as she edit
knelt, took in at it glance the chief details
of the handsome, rustic face and figure, and
their inappropriate setting of Parisian finery,
and she rose very composedly, with a feel-
ing of deep contempt for this beautiful per.
son, and a conviction that she would be easy
to manage. But she wee prepared for an
out burst of jealously ; so she bowed to Ba-
bette, who gave her an awkward curtesy in
return, and waited in a dignified manner to
hear what the probably infuriated young
person would have to say.
But the young person had nothing to say.
She simply stared at the tall lady with
lovely, vacant eyes, as i. cow looks at one
over it hedge, uncertain whether to go on
munching or to retire to a safer distance
from that Capricious and surprising thing, a
human being and then, as Madam de Lan -
cry gave no sign of her intentions, Babette
raised her left hand and arol, laden with
rings and bracelets, to her pretty fair head,
and naively scratched it, In truth the
poor creature was utterly puzzled. Instinet
told her that she was in presence of her su-
perior, and she looked to that superior, to
take the initiative. Getting no help from
her visitor, Babette grew very red, and,
shuffling about from one foot to the other
under her handsome dram, she said at last,
jerking her head in the direction of the pho-
tograph
You know him, mitt ?
"Yes," said Madeline, " I know him."
"And you ain't afraid, if you know ,hitn,
to come here into his rooms without per-
mission ?"
"No. Are you ?"
"Mao Dieu, yes. I only dare to mune
here when I know he is a long way out of
the way. Then I—I amuse myself."
Her wavering glance round the room
sufficiently indicated that her amusement
consisted in "rummaging," She booked
again at the lady in black, side waye,
shyly, but with evident admiration. Ma.
dole de Lanory raised her veil and emiled
at her. The simple creature grew soddenly
confident, like a child.
"So you like him?" she asked, in a rough
whisper, corning nearer.
"Net very much."
" Well,I—no more don't I." She drew
near, confidentially. "I can't bear him,
that 1 can't; and the thingi I have to eat
And the clothes I have to wear don't make
up ter it neither. And I tell you what ibis,
if I knee( hoer, I'd ran away."
"Would. you ? Where do you
where would you go ?"
"I'd go right baok to Lee Beuleteux,' the
place where / used to live, near Cable. I his
sort of life don't agree with mo."
No moral scruples of any kind ecemod to
trouble her ; she was simply an animal who
hrefereed liberty to confinement,
fl Ng no ' said she yawning widely,
"There's no creatures to feed, and no cows
to milk, no washing, no garden to see to, no
market to take the things; to when they've
growed up all fresh and niee,"
At the mention of those simple pleasures
her eyes grew bright and her voice unsteady.
iq And when I'm dull, he taloa me to the
opera. Opera Oh ho cares for opera ?"
with strong contempt. " And he was angry
when 1 laughed tit all thole) girls capering
about. All very fine for those who like it,
but 1 don't ,• I hate the life, and him too."
"Well, I dislike him quite as much as you
do. And if you will help me to find out
something I want to know about him, I
promise to get, you free to go back to your
country home. •
Babette looked at her fearfully and in-
oredulouely. The unknown lady was prom-
ising too much.
"What is it you want to know?" elle waked,
dewier,
"Where M. de Breteuil keels his papers."
Ah
The tone with which she uttered this sim-
ple exclamatima betrayed that she was in
a position to give the required information.
Madame de Lancry glanced at the hang-
ings which ceneealed the look door. Invol-
untarily Babette nodded.
" You have the key ?" Or at least you
know where it is ?"
" I'm afraid," said the peasant woman,
evasively glancing round her with growing
uneasiness. "Besides, how am I to know
you will keep your promise ?"
• "If I once get hold of De Breteuil's pa-
pers, I can compel him to leave Paris."
"But it's me that wants to leave Paris,
not hirn
"When he is gone you can do as you like,
is not that so ? And I will take care you are
safe. Come, can't you trust me ? I'm sure
you know you can."
Her manner, which she know how to
make winning, was irresistible to the poor
creature in her unsympathetic surroundings.
Babette gave one more frightened glance
through the door by which she had entered
into the two larger rooms, then walked to
the fire -place, put her'hand into the back of
the clock, and drew out a tiny key, which
she hastily thrust into the lock of the con-
cealed door. It opened at once ; all that
Madame de Lancry could see at firat was
that the apartment, or passage, or whatever
it might be to which it led, was dark. Ba-
bette suddenly laid a strong hand upon her
arm ; a new difficulty had occurred to her.
" Bat," she said, in a loud whisper,
close
to the lady's ear, "if I go back to my father's
cottage, M. do Breteuil will come there
after me. For my father has a charge for
him—"
"What charge ?"
But Babette looked frightened. ".t must
not tell you. It would bring the police on
to us if it were known--"
Madame de Lancry was impatient.
" Trust to me. The police will have enough
evidence without interfering with you."
With more physical strength than the
sturdily -built country girl would have given
her credit for, she wrenched herself away
from Babette's detaining hand, and went
cautiously through the door into the dark-
ness beyond. As her eyes grew accustomed
to the change from the bright sunset light
in ttehroom she had left, Madame de Lan-
ory found that she was in a room so small
that it was scarcely more than a large cup-
board, very dimly lighted by a little win-
dow high up on the right-hand side, through
which a few feeble rays came from the in-
terior, not the exterior of the house,
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Genteel Quacks.
" Yes, it pays," said a big, fat physician,
with a name which is known throughout the
medical world. "1 have a practice worth
$40,000 a year." " WOrnen 9" "Yes, you've
guessed it firat time. They pay $10 every
time they come into my office. When one
gets on my list I tell you she stays 1" and
Dr. H— laughed long and loud. This is
'quackery—gilhedged, genteel quackery—to
keep suffering woman paying tribute year
in and year out, and doing them no good.
Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription cores the
peculiar weaknesses and diseases of women.
It does not lie to them nor rob them.
Why is a lover like a kernel of corn ? Be-
came he turns white when he pops.
Shocking Acci dent.
So read the headlines of many a newspaper
column, and we peruse with palpitating,ni-
terest the details of the oatastrophy, and are
deeply interested by the sacrifice of human
lives involved. Yet thousands of men and
women are falling victims every year to
that terrible disease, consumption (scrofula
of the lunge) and they and their friends are
satisfied to believe the malady incurable.
Now, there could be no greater mistake. No
earthly power, of course, can restore a lung
that is entirely waated, but Dr, Pieroe's
Golden Medical Disoovery will rapidly and
surely arrest the ravages of consumption, if
taken in time. Do not, therefore, despair,
until you have tried this wonderful remedy.
Nide life a married man hada when every
thine he leaks his wife for it cup of tea he
knows she'll make it for him.
A perfect specific—Dr. Sage's Catarrh
Remedy.
"Tommy, myson, what is longitude ?"
"A telegraph wire, papa." " Why ao, my
son 7" 'Become it stretches from pole to
pole."
Has 1 Conn Om cures in one minute.
A married min," says ona who knows
"can always pack a trunk more cagily than
a bachelor can. He gets hie wife to do it
for him."
Nome who are subjiet to bad breath, font mkt
tongue, or any dleorder of She Btolnaoh, eon at ones
be relieved by tieing Dr. Oareen'e Stomach Bitters,
the old and tried remedy, Ask you DruIglst
"Johnny," said the Sunday -school teach-
er, "what is our duty to our neighbors ?"
"To ask them to tea as Win as they get
Nettled," said Johnny.
A Care for Drienkennees.
the opium habit, depsommila, tho morphine habit,
nervous prostrotion +mused by the use of tobacco,
waketulnets, Mental depreision, enftening Of the
brain, eta., premature old age, loss of vitality wised
by over-exertion of the brain, And lose of Mauna
Strength, from any amuse whatever. lien—young,
old or mtddlehged—who are broken down from Any
of the Above oittses, or any cause notmenfWndd above,
tend your addrees and 10 eons In stamps for Lubon's
Treatise, in book forltic of Diseati of Kan. Books
sent settled And Winn from obosnotion. Moho*
Lusa 1 Wellierkok MIA Nast, Zonis Ont.
A. P. $92,