Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-08-03, Page 7August 3rd, 1916 THE W INGHAM TIMES ige /•a/.7 /"7 r r/,•1 •+7 yA` r ^/.-I ^%'7 Pn^! C A WIFE IN NAME ONLY BY BERTHA M. CLAY INV c /S vSl� 'S MS�'c� . S'q C, ,n iS �.a (a ra,i� Sara 1rrom•BeneatITthe white silken folds ,peeped a tiny embroidered slipper; a jeweled fan lay near her, and with it she gently stirred the perfumed air. He watched her with admiring eyes. "You look like a picture that I have seen, Philippa," he said. "What picture?" she asked, with a : smile. "I cannot tell you, but I am quite sure that I have seen one like you. What picture would you care to re- semble?" A sudden gleam of light came into her dark eyes. "The one underneath which you would write 'My Queen," she said, hurriedly. He did not understand. "I think every one with an eye to ',beauty would call you `queen,' " he •observed, lightly. The graver meaning -of her speech had quite escaped him. Then Lady Peters returned, and the -conversation changed. "We are going to hear an opera- bouffe to -night," said Philippa, when Lord Arleigh was leaving. "Will you • come and be our escort?" "You will have a box filled with noisy chatterers the whole night," he remarked, laughingly. "They shall all make rooms for you, Norman, if you will come," she said. ' "It is `La Grande Duchesse,' with the far-famed Madame Schneider as her • Grace of Gerolstein." "I have not heard it yet," return - , ed Lord Arleigh. "I cannot say that I have any great admiration for that school of music, but, if you wish it, I will go, Philippa." "It will increase my enjoyment a hundred -fold," she said, gently, "if you go." "How can I refuse when you say •r that? I will be here punctually," he promised; and again the thought a crossed his mind how true she was .to her old friends—how indifferent to new ones! On that evening Philippa changed her customary style of dress—it was no longer the favorite amber, so rich in hue and in texture, but white, • gleaming silk, relieved by dashes of • crimson. A more artistic or beautiful • dress could not have been designed. • She wore crimson roses in her dark hair, and a cluster of crirneon roses -on her white breast. Her bouquet was • of the same odorous flowers. In the theatre Lord Arleigh noticed. that Philippa attracted more attention than any one else, even though the house was crowded; he saw opera - glasses turned constantly toward her • beautiful face. Miss L'Estrange kept her word, say- ing but little to those who would fain ' have engrossed her whole attention— that was given to Lord Arleigh. She watched his face keenly throughout -the performance. He did not evince any great interest in it. "You do 'not care for 'La Grande Duchesse?"' she said, suddenly. "No—frankly, I do not," he replied. "Tell me why," said Philippa. "Can you ask me to do so, Philip- pa?" he returned, surprised; and then be. added: "I will tell you. First of .all, despite the taking music, it is a performance to which I should not •• Dare to bring my wife and sister." "Tell me why," she said again. "It lowers my idea of womanhood. ' I could not forgive the woman, let her ' be duchess or peasant, who could show any man such greatlove, who could lay herself out so deliberately • to win a man." She looked at him gravely. He con- - tinned: "Beauty is very charming, I grant— as are grace and talent; but the chief charm to me of a woman is her mo- desty, just as the great charm of a lily is its whiteness. Do you not agree with • me, Philippa?" "Yes," she replied, "most certainly I do.: but, Norman, you are hard upon • us. Suppose that a woman loves a •.than ever so truly --she meat not make r•a y high?" "Any sign 'sire might • make 'w eiuld least 'certainly, in my opinion, hewn ,•1�,•+„. ;ch nohhehe-said• MILBURN'S HEART and NERVE PILLS CURED Salvation Army 'Captain. Capt. Wm. E. Sanford (Salvation .Army), 38 Earlscourt Ave., Toronto, Ont., writes: "A short. time ago I suffered from heart trouble, which seemed to come on ins very suddenly. I was so bad, that at times it seemed as if it was all I could do to breathe. I noticed an announce - tient of Milburn's Heart and Nerve. Pills, and decided to give them a; trial, After taking two or three days' treat - Meat I felt Tyne, end my heart ; has, ,not 'bothered. ,me since. ,this,, ,testimony: 'Would be'of any service to others you are at liberty to the et." . 'To all who suffer from any lornaof.heart trouble Milburn's:H'eart,and.,Nerve Pills, trill give prompt: aril pertnafient relief. "They strengthen andiinvigorate the actiellt of the heart, and tone up the whsle sys- .tem.• tl, Milburt& Heart' Stul 2ferve Pills are 50 .rents per box, or .3 boxes for $1.25. Per title at all dealer" or mailed direct on receipt of price by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Cat. -• Rant, •.fie' persisfec�h'ilts you not think that is rather hard? Why must a woman never evince a preference for the man she loves?" "Woman should be wooed --never be the wooer," said Lord Arleigh "Again I say you are hard, Norman. According to you, a woman is to break her heart in silence and sorrow for a man, rather than give him the least idea that she cares for, him." "Ishould say there as a ha.ppy me- dium between the Duchess of l - stein and a broken heart. Neither men nor women can help their peculiar disposition, but in my opinion a man never cares less for a woman than when he sees she wants to win his liking." He spoke with such perfect freedom from all consciousness that she knew the words could not be intended for her; nevertheless she had learnt a lesson from them. "I am like yourself, Norman," she said, "I do not care for the play at all; we will go home," and they left the house before the Grand Duchess had played her part." CHAPTER IX. Philipea L'Estrange thought long and earnestly over her last conversa- tion wit'{ Lord Arleigh. She had al- ways loved him;. but the chances are that, if he had been devoted to her on his return, if he had wooed her as others did, she would have been less empressee. As it was, he was the only man she had not conquered, the only one who resisted her, on whom her fascinations fell without producing a magical effect, She could not say she had conquered her world while he was nnsubdued. Yet bow was it? She asked herself that question a blot - died times each day. She was no co- quette, no ffirt, yet she knew she had but to smile on a man to bring him at once to her feet; she had but has make the most trifling advance, and she could do what she would. The Duke of Mornton, had twice repeated his offer of marriage—she had refused him. The Marques of Langland, the great match of the day, had made her an offer, which she had declined. The Italian Prince Cetti world have given his possessions to take her back with him to his own sunny land, but she had refused to go. No woman in Eng- land had had better offers of mar- riage; but she had refused them all. How was it that, when others sighed so deeply end vainly at her feet,, Lad Arleigh alone stood aloof? Of what use were her beauty, wit, grace, wealth, and talent, if she could not win him? For the first time she became solicitous about her beauty, comparing it with that of other women, always being compelled, in the end, to own that she excelled. If Lord Arleigh talked, or danced, er showed attention to any lady, etre would critically examine her claim to interest, whether she was beautiful, mentally gifted, graeoful, . But Philip- pa detected another things -if Lord Ar- leigh did not love her, it was at least certain that he loved no one else. The whole world was spoiled' for her because she had not this man's love. She desired' it. Her beauty, her wealth, her talents, her grace, wee all as nothing, beenthe With them she could not win him. Then, again, she asked herself, could it be that she could not win him? What, had men told her? That her beauty was ir- resistible. It might be that he did care for he;, that he intended to carry out his mother's favorite scheme, but that he was in no hurry, that he want- ed her and himself to see plenty of life first. It was easier, after all, 10 believe that Shari 'to think that, she had completely failed to win him. She would be quite satisfied if it were so, although it was.certainly .net'flat- tering to her that he should be will- ing to wait so long; but, if he would .only.speak—ff ,hewould.ody say the few words woida that world set' her mind quite at ease—she would be content. Why did he not loveShe was fair,. yompg„ endowed w.rib gifts; she had wealth,,positiwp,.ahe had,,the claim upon him that his mother.;°and hers bad wished the alliance. Why did she fail? 'Why did he not love her? It seenngd. to her that she was the one person. in all the world to whom he would naturally turn -that, above all others, he would select • her for his .wile; yet he did net evince the least: idea., of se doing. Why was ft? Twice that night when he had so !randy told' her his ideas About women, she had been most careful, most reserved. ,,".'If. be ;likes reserve and indiffer- enm," she said to herself, "he shall have plenty of it," Yet it was at' the .{scree, time . so mixed with kind, • .thoughtful;consideration for him, the wonder was, he id not , suc- eomb. "r, Meet find. etit, she said to Whet "whetber' be dei really care for Wit." spar tea do,• rip she did not quite . krialh-bat Warden's with ', are provesaly;,'Been. , m tchemarc she saw of him the bet- thihrhf liked 'h'im-his singlerenaided- acts l=h'is Ihieprb!y',‘his.faith in **PenAis.rrefilpeyt,for theril,;;ware greater .;she had seen in any other,. and " OW lgeac'l him for these qualities. The mere ebe,eontraated him with others, e greater, die r, and wider grew .i r lee, . 3t •fin• ins be that in tithe he seers. for bar. l.. Michela f hyla grind �ie ee o hall, Which. poison, Pili weA,ln. �. , 1 hal yeti! go ti shed- of Lord Arab• "T"fi-ave hardly 'decided," he re- plied. "Do go, Norman, I like waltzing, but I do not care to waltz with every one. Do go, that I may dance with you." "You do not mind waltzing with me, then?" he said. The glance she gave him was answer sufficient. He could not help feeling .flattered. "I . shall be there, Philippa," he said; and then she promised herself on that evening she would try to dis- cover what his sentiments were with regard to her. She took great pains with her -toilet; she did not wish to startle, but to at- tract—and the two things were very different. Her dress looked brilliant, being of a silvery texture; the trim- ming was composed of small• fern - leaves; parure of diamonds crown- ed her head. The effect of the dress was striking, and Philippa herself had never lgok- ed more lovely. There was a flusfi of rose color on her face, a light in her eyes. If ever woman's face told a story, hers did—if ever love softened, made more tender and pure any face on earth, it was hers. After her toilet was complete, she stood for a few minutes looking in her mirror. The tall, stately figure in the glorious dress was perfect, the face, framed in shining masses of dark hair. was perfect,' too. "If I can win but one word from him !" she thought. "If I can but remind him of those childish days when he used to call me his little wife !" She no sooner made her appear- ance than, as was usual, shewas sur- rounded by a little court of admirers —the Duke of Mornton first amongst them. They little guessed that they owed her complacent reception of their compliments to the fact that she was not even attending to them, but with her whole soul in her eyes was watching for Lord Arleigh's arrival. The duke even flattered himself that he was making some progress, because at some chance word from him the beautiful face flushed a deep crimson, How was he to know that Lord Ar- leigh had at that moment entered the room? The latter could not help feeling pleased and flattered at the way in which Philippa received him. He was but mortal, and he could not help see- ing the dark eyes shine, the scarlet lips tremble, the whole face soften. Presently she placed her hand on his arm, and walked away with him. "I was growing inpatient, Nor- man," she said, and then, remember- ing his criticisms on the wooing of women, she hastened to add—"impa- tient at the want of novelty; it seems to me that in London ball -rooms all the men talk in the same fashion." Lord Arleigh lhughed. "What are they to do, Philippa?' he asked. "They have each one the same duties to perform --to please their prtners and amuse themselves. You would not have a 'hapless lord - ling' talk about science of metaphy- sics while he danced, would your' "No; but they might find some in- telligent remarks to make. You talk well, Norman,' and- listening to you makes me impatient with others." "You are very kind," he said, and he took the pretty tablets from her. hand. "You have saved every waltz for me, Philippa. I shall expect to have a dozen duels on my hands before morn- ing " "This is my favorite," she said., as the music of the irresistible 'Blue Danube" filled the room. Then it seemed to her that they floated away into another sphere. His arm' was round her, his eyes smiling down into hers. With youth, music, beauty, love, there was nothing want- ing to complete the charm. When it was over he asked her if she would rest. "No," said Philippa; "I bear the playing of 'a`fountaain in the fernery. Ig sh`ouid_,like to, go •there," They' `went through the • magnificent, shite of rooms, and then through the conservatory into the dim, begat.) fernery, where tile' lasaps glowed hike • and nd the cool ripplireg 'water 1 the derip basin below. They could musical rhytlinfshear the dile tent sound'';01 • music from the baR- roolra. )(t was a, time whoa love, if it iso sprin is a maw's h le,} Maaid g "If _ /mace mmee,' who said to her - '„'he ,tell mese) now." $ " like this better than the bail - room, Norman' titre said, '13y the way, you have not told me if you like eriy dressr' ehe added, aa>000s b baring WA'Id onearr ' bjetct ebe diad at heart. `"Do you remember' that when ire were child/ate, Norman, yea r1Yecl 10 e'siticzw my *ease' 'Did I? It was very nide' a me. I should not venture to criticise any- thing.so marvelous now. It is a wow 'death dress, Philippa.; is the light it; leeks lalq meenbe�sms, a the shade e aceta. Dd ye i 'suppseb I `should Weer have the courage to criticise any- thing se beautiful?" h"Do you really like it, Norman— Without flattery?",.:,. +z"I never flatter, Philippa, not cycle its jest; you ehorild know .,that• I never heard :you attlett "ilse- Lno'wledged. "I took panne 'with my toilet, Norman, to o "., please you; if it Apes so, I • awell eontent. ▪ 'There is another waits," said Lori' h•."we.11'ill& , go back to the ba , • "Make Lim love me!" ahe said to tb, hitter died,' p, Was Troubled With Stomach and Liver FOR SEVEN YEARS. MII\BURN'S LAXA-LIVER PiLLS 1 CURED HER. Mrs. Thomas Sargent, Berkeley, Ont. writes: "I have been troubled with ,my stomach and liver for the past seven years; also have had constipation, caus- ing headaches, backaches and dizzy spells, and at times I would almost fall down. I tried all kinds of medicine, " without obtaining any relief. I com- menced using Milburn'eLaxa-Liver Pills, and they have cured me. I have recom- mended them to many of my friends, and they are all very much pleased with the results they have obtained from their use." Milburn's I,axa-Liver Pills have been on the market for the past twenty-five years, and can be procured from all dealers. • The price is 25 cents per vial, or five vials for $1,00. If your dealer does not keep them, they will he mailed direct on receipt of price, by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, To- ronto, Ont. ag'weil ii "" "-o: tile 5ta:ra 'as for his love—it seems just as far off." CHAPTER X. Lord Arleigh did not go to Beech - grove as he had intended. He found so many old friends and so many en- gagements in London that he was not inclined to leave it. Then, too, he began to notice many little things which made hint uncomfortable. He began to perceive that people consid- ered him in some kind of way as belonging to Miss L'Estrange; no mat- ter how many surrounded her, when he entered a room, they were seen one by one to disappear until he was left alone by her side. At first he be- lieved this to be accidental; after a time he knew that it must be pur- posely done. Miss L'Estrange, too, appeared to see and hear him only. If any one wanted to win a smile from her love- ly lips, he had but to make way for Lord Arleigh: if any man wanted a kind word, or a kind glance from the beautiful eyes, he had but to praise Lord Arleigh. People soon per- ceived all this. The last to discover it was Lord Arleigh himself. It dawn- ed but slowly upon him. He began to perceive also that Philippa, atter' a fashion of her own, appropriated him. She looked upon it as a settled arrangement that he should ride with her every day—that every day he: must either lunch or dine with them —that he must be her escort to thea- tre and ball. If he at times pleaded other engagements, she would look at him with an air of childish wonder, and say: "They cannot have so great a claim upon you as I have Norman?' Then he was disconcerted, and knew not'what to answer; it was true that there was no one with so great a claim—it seemed to have been hand- ed down from his mother to him. His eyes were still further opened one day when a large and fashionable crowd had gathered at Lady Dalton's garden -party. Philippa was, as here- tofore, the belle, looking more than usually lovely in a light gossamer dress of white and pink. She was sur- rounded by admirers. Lord Arleigh stood with a group of gentlemen un- der a great spreading beech -tree. "How beautiful she is, that Miss L'Estrange!" mid one—Sir Alfred Martindale. "I can believe in the siege of Troy when I look at her; and I think it is just as well for, mankind that such lovely women are rare•,• "If ever there was a human moth," observed another, "it is that unfor- tunate Duke of Moreton. I have seen' some desperate cases in my time, but none so desperate as his. Lord Arleigh laughed. They were all' intirnq,te.. tr•settfs- "Tse Dti oi'3iornton is a great' friend of mine," be said, "I can only hope he may be saved from the ulti- mate fate of a moth, and that Miss L'Estrange will take pity on him." He could not help seeing that the three gentlemen looked up with an expression of utter wonder. "Do you mean," asked Sir Alfred, "that you hope Miss L'Estrange will' matey the duke?" I do not think she could do bet- ber?" replied Lord Arleigh. 'You are the last man inLondon ' 1 tri cine h n f'a, P cs 'cte'd t4.. year' __Bey imaiiihmaimaddmommasai The Wretchedness of Constipation Can quickly be overcome by CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PILLS Palely vegetable —act surdy and gcglly en the liver. Cure Biliousness, Head. ache, D►=.i. new, and Indigestion. They do their slut," Small P111. Small D«., Beall /'cies. Genuine wastbear Signature .00021( ao" grail ,air Aiiit.i; auieily. "Am 1? Pray may I ask why?" "Yes, if you acquit me of all in- tention of rudeness in my reply. I. repeat that you are the last man in London whom I should have expected to hear make such a remark, for the simple reason that every ono believes you are going to marry Miss L'Estrange yourself." Lord Arleigh's face flushed hotly. "Then 'every one,' as you put it, Sir Alfred, takes a great liberty— an unauthorized liberty --with the name of a very charming lady. Miss L'Fstrango and myself were much to- gether when children—our mothers were distantlyntly relato — and at the present time we are — excellent friends." "I am sorry," returned Sir Alfred, "if I have said anything to annoy you. I thought the fact was as eve, dent as the sun at noonday; every one in London believes it." "Then people take an unwarrant- able liberty with the lady's name," said Lord Arleigh. Some one else remarked, with a slightly impertinent drawl, that he, did not believe Miss L'Estrange would consider it a liberty, A flash from, Lord Arleigh's dark eyes silenced him. A few minutes afterward Lord Ar- leigh found the Duehess of Aytoun and Philippa seated underneath a large acacia -tree, Captain Gresham,. a great favorite in the London world, was by Philippa's side. The duchess, with a charming gesture of invitation, made room for Lord Arleigh by her side. The gallant captain did not often find an opportunity of making love to the belle of the season. Now that he had found it, he was deter- mined not to lose it—not for fifty Lord, Arleighs. So, while the duchess talk- ed to the new -comer, he relentlessly pursued his conversation with Miss L'Estrange. There was but one music in the, world for her, and that was the music of Lord Arleigh's voice. Nothing could ever drown that for her. The band was 'playing, the captain talk- ing, the duchess conversing, in her gay, animated fashion; but above all, clearly and distinctly, Philippa heard every word that fell from Lord Ar- leigh's lips, although he did not know it. He believed that she was, as she seemed to be listening to the captain. "I have pleasing news concerning you, Lord Arleigh," said the duchess. 'I wonder if I may congratulate you?"' "What is it? I do not know of anything very interesting concerning myself," he remarked—"nothing, I am sure, that calls for congratula- tion." "You are modest," said the duchess; "but I have certainly heard, and on good authority too, that you are abort to be married. "I can only say I was not in the least aware of it," he rejoined. The duchess raised her parasol and looked keenly at him. "Pray pardon me," she continued; "do not think that it is from mere curiosity that I ask the question. Is there really no truth in the report?" "None whatever," he replied. "I have no more idea of being married than I have of sailing this moment for the Cape." "It is strange," said the duchess, musingly. "I had the information on such good authority too." "There can be no better authority 'on the subject," said Lord Arleigh, laughingly, "than myself." "No. I admit that. Weil, as the ice is broken, Lord Arleigh, and we are old friends, I may ask, why do you not marry?' "Simply because of marriage, and of love that ends in marriage, I have not thought," he answered, lightly. "It is time for you to begin," ob- served the duchess; "my own im- pression is that a man does no good in the world until he is married." And then she added, "I suppose you have an ideal of womanhood Lord Arleigh's face flushed. "Yes," he acknowledged, "I have an ideal of my own, derived from poetry I have read, from pictures I have seen—an ideal of perfect grace, loveliness, and purity. When I meet that ideal, I shall meet my fate." "Then you have never yet seen the woman you would like to marry?" pursued the duchess. "No," be answered, quite seriously; "strange to say, although I have seen some of the fairest and noblest ,types of womanhood, I have not yet met with my ideal." They were disturbed by a sudden movement—the flowers that Philippa held in her hand had fallen to the ground. CHAPTER XI. Captain Gresham sprung forward to lift the flowers which Miss L'Estnmge had. dropped. "Nay," she said, "never mind Blom. 'A fresh flower is verynice. A flower that has once been in the dust has lost its beauty." There was no trace of pain in the dear voices it was rich and mashed. Phiiippa L'Fstrange, seated in the bright sunshine, heard the words that were to her as a deathewarrnat, yet made no sign. "I have not yet met with my ideal," Lord Arleigh had said. Captain Gresham picked up some el the fallen flowers. "A dead flower from your hand, Miss L'Estrange, ' he observed, "is worth h whole gardenfui of living ones from any one else.', She laughed again that sweet mush ked laugh which seemed to coueeonly from a happy heart;; and then she looked round The Ihachema of Ay - term and Lord Arleigh were stall in deep converse, Miss L'Estrange turn- ed to Captain. Greenham,. `'I have been told," she said, "that there riee some beuatiful white bye- cinths here;. they ma my fawrceite flowers. Shall we find' them?" He was only too pleased. She bade it laughing smirk to the dues, , and smiled at Lord Ariergh. There' was' too trace of pain or of sadness in her Voice or face. They. away to. pether, and Lordnever even dreared that slat itis *- marks. When here ilucheas` dell i amt 1e irltt isgdrw the epresadbe d sa s wises. His thoughts were eat of, the pieerr- satest nature;; he did not IDM the tIP. his rMeib3g shit tact*lilli �ter+il.J� Children Cry for Fletcher's The Kind You Have Always Bought, and 'which has been �, in use for over ..,0 c �s has.beano the signature s aatirre y � g' of and has been naa,de under his per. sonal supervision since its infancy. Allow no one to deceive you in this. All Count• erfeits, Imitations and "Just -as -good" are but Experiments that trifle with and endanger the health of Infants and Children—Experience against ?Experiment. What is CASTORIA Castoria, is a harmless snbstitute for Castor Oil, Pare- goric, Drops and Soothing Syrups. It is pleasant. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys Worms and allays Feverishness. For more than thirty years it has been in constant use for the relief of Constipation, Flatulency, Wind Colic, all Teething Troubles and. Diarrhoea. It regulates the Stomach and Bowels, assimilates the Food, giving healthy and natural sleep. The Children's Panacea—Tho Mother's Friend. GENUINE CASTORIA ALWAYS1 Bears the Signature of In Use For Over 30 Years The Kind You Have Always Bought •THE CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY. 1I11 ,; -Tr was fair-neittfer- Yi -rmnte'Tf nor to Philippa — yet how was he to put an end to such gossip. Another idea occurred to him. Could it be possible that Philippa herself shared the idea? He would not be- lieve it. Yet many things made him pause and think. She certainly evinc- ed vinceed great preference for his society; she was never ei happy as when with him. She would gave up any engage- ment, any promised gayety or eas- ure to be with him. She dressed to please him; she consulted him on most things; she seemed to identify her interests with his. But all this might be the nd- hip—it Wight have theirult of e nothing todo with lave. Could it be possible that she still remembered the childish nonsense that had passed between them—that she considered either herself or him bound by a foolish tie that neither of them had contracted? Could it be possible that she regarded her- self as engaged to him? The bare idea of it seemed absurd to him; he could net believe it. Yet many little things that he could not ex- plain to himself made him feel un- comfortable and anxious. Could it be that she, the most beautiful and certainly the most popular woman in Landon, cared so much for him as to hold him by so slender a tie as their past childish nonsense? He reproached himself for the thoreght; yet, do what he would, be could not drive it away. The sus- picion haunted him; it made him miserable. If it were really so, what was he to do? He was a gentleman, not a cox- comb. He could not go to this fair woman and ask her if it was really true that she loved him, if she real- ly cared for him, if she held him by a tie contracted in childhood. He could not do it. He had not sufficient vanity. Why should he think that Philippa, who had some of the nobl- est men in England at her feet—why should he think that she would re- nounce all her brilliant prospects for him? Yet, if the mistake had really occurred—if she really thought the childish nonsense binding — if she really believed that he was about to make her his wile—it was high time that she was undeceived, that she knew the truth. And the truth was that although he had a great liking, a kindly affection for her, he was not in love with her. He admired her beauty—nay, he went further; he thought her the most beautiful wo- man he had ever seen, the most gift- ed, the most graceful. But he was not in love with her—never would be. She was not his type of woman, not -is ideal. If she bad been his sister. he would have loved her exceedingly —a brotherly affection was what he felt for her. Yet how could he go to this fair woman with the ungracious words that he did not love her, and had no thought of marrying her? His face flushed hotly at the thought—there was something in it against which his whole manhood rose in hot re- bellion. Still it must be done; there must be no such shadow between them as this — there must be no such fatal mistake. If the report of their approaching mar- riage were allowed to remain much longer uncontradicted, why, then he would be in honor compelled to in- fill public expectation; and this he had no intention, no desire to do. The only thing therefore was to speak plainly to her." How he hated the thought! How he loathed the idea! It seemed to hint. moat unmanly, moat ignoble;— and yet theare was are help for it. There Mae one gleam bif comfort for }rim, apd only one. She was so etteek, so keen, that she would be sure' to underttand at once, Withobt his' 6 - tering info arty long explanation.. Few Words Weiald ]Gelid "those words he mast , dsotne as best ism ,Quid. 11 it were possible, he wand speak to her :to-dam—,Tire ' aeon* .rib' 1'te dad `then 'alt tuthertaitlty Willed be ended. It seemed to hon,; as 'let pen - doted ingiumeseee things, that a esiws�-Nod lie Tran -W. t -sorry' of iFi`at g000, gentle mother who had been the cause of all this anxiety. "Such matters are always best 1011 alone," he said to himself. If I should ever have children of my own. I will never interfere in their laws affairs." Think as he would, ponder as he would, it was no easy task that lay before him—to tell her in so mama words that he did not love her. Sure- ly no man had ever had anything se ungracious to do before. He looked round the grounds, and presently saw her the centre of a brilliant group near the lake. The Duke of Ashwood was by her' side, the elite of the guests had gathered round her. She—beautiful, bright, animated—was talking, as he wale see, with her usual grace and ease. IIx struck him suddenly as absurd that this beautiful woman should care— as people said she did care—for him. Let him get it all over. He longed to see the bright face smile on him with sisterly kindness, and to fee) himself at ease with her; he longed to have all misunderstanding done away with. He went up to the little group, and again the same peculiarity struck him —they all made way for him—even the Duke of Ashwood, although he did it with a frown on his face and an angry look in his eyes. Each one seemed to consider that he had some special right to be by the side of the beautiful Miss L'Estrange; and she, as usual when he ,was present, saw and heard no one else. It was high time the world was dis- abused. Did she herself join in the popular belief? He could not tell. He looked at the bright face; the dark eyes met his, but he read no secret in them. "Philippa," he said, suddenly, "the water looks very tempting—would year like a row?" "Above everything else," she re- plied. And they went off in the little pleasure -boat together. It was a miniature lake, tall trees bordering it and dipping their green branches into the water. The can shone on the feathered spray that fell itr•om the sculls, the white swans raised their graceful heads as the lit- tle boat passed by, and Philippa lay back languidly, watching the shadows of the trees. Suddenly an idea man- ed to occur to her. She look at Lard Arleigh. Norman," she said, "let the boat drift -•I want to talk to you,and I cannot while you are rowing." He rested on his sculls, and the boat drifted under the drooping branches of a willow -tree. Be never forgot the picture that then presented itself—the clear deep water, the green trees, and the beautiful face looking at him. 'Norman," she said, fn a clear low voice, "I want to tell you that I over- heard all that you said to the Ducbeas of Aytoun. I could not help it—I was so near to you." She was taking the difirenity into her own handa ! He felt most thank- ful. "Did you. Philippa? I thought yon were engrossed with the gallant cap- tain." "Did you really and in all troth mean what you said to herr she asked. "Certainly; you know me well en- ough to be quite sure that I never say what I do not mean." "You have never yet seen the wo- man Whom you would ask to be your wife?' she said. There 'was a brief silence, arid then he replied: "NO, in all tnith, I have not, Plei- Alla- A i"ttle bird wait singing on a sway- ing ,hough just above ihete --to the last day of her life it 1emed to her `{hat' She remembered the notes. The sultry silence seemed to deepen. See bBet, Norman," 'site said, itt a earl, veiee' 'Ttaite. yon hot edell tiler Het.tried to laugh, t5 hide his e ba + lbient, l tt.it `!t_as 1i tom_ -,,t (Te U* Corrniu l,), "