Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-08-10, Page 7S Sn�S T S SSS S SuS SS August loth, 1916 THE WINGHAM TIMES Page 7 Ors ry C'3 Ccs 3 MENEE VS US VS✓SsSVSCJS✓S L43J5✓SVS A WIFE IN NAME ONLY BY BERTHA M. CLAY t/S SS .SSS L. VS VSV S vS vs, c vs •1 uS�c/Sn S LSSSS ""r2 "have Ween yut3- nc'I EImtre you. I have all the affection of a brother for you, Philippa—" and then he paused abruptly. But," she supplied, "yon have never thought of making me your wife? Speak to me quite frankly, Norman." "No, Philippa, I have not." "As matters stand between us, they require explanation," she said; and lie saw her lips grow pale. "It is not pleasant for me to have to mention it, but I• must do it. Norman, do you ,quite forget what we were taught to believe when we were children -that our lives were to be passed together?" "My dearest Philippa, pray spare yourself and me. I did not know that you even remembered' that childish nonsense." She raised her dark eyes to his lace and there was something in them be- fore which he shrank as one who feels pain. "One word, Norman -only one word. 'That past which has been so much to me -that past in which I have liv- ed, even more than in the present or the future -am I to look upon it as what you call nonsense?" He took her hand in his. "My dear Philippa," he said, '"I hate myself for what I have to say - it makes me detest even the sound of my own voice. Yet you are right -e there is nothing for us but perfect frankness; anything else would be 'foolish: Neither your mother nor mine had any right to try to bind us. Such things never answer, never pros- per. I cannot myself imagine how they, usually so sensible, came in this instance to disregard all dictates ,of common sense. I have always looked upon the arrangementas mere nonsense; and I hope you have done rthe same. You are free as air -and -so am I." She made no answer, but, after a Yew minutes, when she had gained her -self-possession, she said: "The sun is warm on the water - 1 think we had better return"; and, 'as they went back, she spoke to him carelessly about the neve rage frog' gar - .den -parties. "Does she care or not?" thought 'Lord Arleigh to himself. "Is she pleased or not? I cannot tell; the ways of women are inscrutable. Yet .a strange idea haunts me -an uncom- fortable suspicion." As he welched her, there seemed •to him no trace of anything but light - :hearted mirth and happiness about her. She laughed and talked; she •w'as the centre of attraction, the life •of the fete. When he spoke to her :she had a careless jest, a laughing ward for him; yet he could not di- vest himself of the idea that there was something behind all this. Was it fancy, or did the dark eyes wear every now and then an expression of an- ;gtiish? Was it his fancy, or did it 'really happen that when she believed +herself unobserved, the light died out .of her face? He was uncomfortable, without knowing why --haunted by a vague, rmiserable suspicion he could not .explain, by a presentiment he could snot understand -compelled against his •will to watch her, yet unable to de- tect anything in her words and man- ner that justified his doing so. It :had been arranged that after the fete he should return to Verdun House :with Lady Peters and Philippa. He thtad half promised to dine and spend 'the evening there, but now he won- dered if that arrangement would be :agreeable to Philippa. He felt that :some degree of restraint had arisen between them. He was thinking what excuse he -could frame, when Philippa sent for him. He looked into the fresh young dace; there was no cloud on it.. ' "Norman," she said, "1 find that 'Lady Peters has asked Miss %atm ado join us at dinner -will you come new? It has been a . charming day, ,but I must own that the warmth oI the sun hat tired me." Her tone of voice was so calm, so uunm d..-he,..conld- have lausher.L4 Had Weak Back and ,Kidneys. "COULD HARDLY MOVE IN IED. When the back becomes weak and :starts to ache and pain it is a sure sign r ,that the kidneys ate tot performing, their 1 functions properly. On the first sign of backache Doaree Kidney Pills should be taken and serious ;.kidney troubles prevented. Mr. Francis McInnes, Woodbine, N.S., •writes: "I deem it my duty to let you know the wonderful results I have re- ,eeived from the use of Doan's Kidney Pills. For a long time I had been suf- •ftring from weak back and kidneys. I • uszd to suffer the most at night, and some ,tithes could hardly move in bed with the pain. I could do no hard labor on .account of my back, A friend advised me to give Doan's Kidney pills a trial, .anrl I am glad I did for the pain le sty kidneys is "gone; my hack is strong, and I can perform any hard labor and get my gook night's sleep. I telly used three 'boxes of the pills." Dean's Kidney Pills are *60 tents per box, or 3 boxes for $1'.25; at sell dealers, or mailed direct on receipt of price by 11, - Milburn Co., limited, 'Pilton tG, ( When orderieg direct specify "Doau'e :•' 1 liitmen'ror&--eupp eitM, TvE "f'ear�¢ "I am quite ready," he replied. "Ii you would like the carriage ordered, we will go at once." He noticed her going home more, particularly than he had ever clone before. She was a trifle paler, and there was a languid expression in her dark eyes which might axis* hum fatigue, but she talked lightly as us- ual, never evincing the least con- eciousness. of what had happened.. Could it have been a dream? Never' was man so puzzled as Lord Arleigh.. They talked after dinner about a, grand fancy ball that Miss Byron• intended giving at her mansion m Grosvenor Square. She was one of, those who believed implicitly in the engagement between Lord Arleigh and Miss L'Estrange. "I have a Waverley quadrille al- ready formed," said Miss Byston-- "that is de rigueur. There could not be a fancy ball without a Waverley quadrille. How I should like tau Shakespearian ones! I thought of having one from 'As You Like It' and another from 'Romeo and Juliet"; and, Miss L'Estrange, I wish you would come as Juliet. It seems rude even to suggest a character to any one with, such perfect taste as yours --still I should like a beautiful Juliet --Janet in white satin, and glimmer of "I ani quite willing," returned Phi- lippa. "Juliet is one of my favorite heroines. How many Romeos will you haver' "Only one, if I can so manage it." replied Miss Byron -"and that will be Lord Arleigh." She looked at him as she spoke; be shook his head laughingly. "No -I yield to no one in reveranee for the creations of the great poet," he said; "but, to tell the truth, I do not remember that the character of Romeo ever had any great cbaarn-ler .Why noir asked Miss Beaton "I cannot tell you; I am very much afraid that I prefer Otheile--the noble Moor. Perhaps it is because senti- ment has not any great attraction for me. I do not think I could ever kill myself for love. I should make a sorry Romeo, Miss Byrton." With a puzzled face she looked from him to Wes L'Estrange. "You surprise me," she said, quiet- ly. "I should have thought Romeo a character above all others to please yon." Philippa had listened with a smile -nothing had escaped her. Looking up, ahe said, with a bright laugh: "I cannot compliment you on be- ing a good judge of character, Mies Byrton. It may be perhaps that you have not known Lord Arleigh well enough. But he is the last person in the world to make a good Romeo. I know but one character in )aake- speare's plays that would suit iYium." "And that?" interrogated Lord Ar - "That, " replied Philippa, "is Pe. truchio"; and amidst a general laugh the conversation ended. Miss Byrion was the first to take her departure. Lord Arleigh Lingered for some little time --he was still un- convinced. The wretched, half formed suspicion that there was something hidden beneath Philippoes manner still pursued him; he wanted to see if she was the same to him. There was indeed no pereeptibie difference. She leaned back in her favorite chair with an air of relief, as though she were tired of visitors. "Now let us talk about the fete, Norman," she said. "You are the only one I care to talk with about my neighbors." So for half an hour they discussed the fete, the dresses, the music, the different flirtations -Philippa in her usual bright, laughing, hall -saris fashion, with the, keen sense of hu- mor that was peculiar to her. Lord Arleigh could not see that tbete was any effort in her converted/ion; he egad not "see the least : s inflow cn thitn=hiniess, and at heart he was When he was going army, she rak- ed him about riding on the mortar joint as usual. He could not see the slightest difference in her manner. That unpleasant little conversation Oe thelake might never have taken piece for' all the remembrance of it that seemed to trouble her. Ti,dsewhen he rose to take his leave, she field bat her band with a bright,. =needec- Oression. "knoll -night, Petrnchio." she std. "I ani pleased at the name I lreiie found for you." - "I am not so sure that it is appro- priate," he rejoined, "I' think, ton the whole, I would rather love a Ju- liet than tame a' sheen." '"It may be the book of fate that yon will de both, ' she observed; and they parted, laughing at the idea To the .bat the 'light shone in her eyes, and the scarlet lips were wreath- ed in sunder; but, when the door had dosed behind hire and she was alone, the. haggard, terrible change that fell over the 'oma lace was painful to see. The ligirt, the youth, the beauty manned all to fade from it; it grew whit, steidcen, as though the pawn of demith were 'upon her. She claspedher balsas as one who had last all hope. "now am I to bear it?" she cried. "What, Mir I to doe' She looked around her' with the bewildered `air of one who had lost her way--•liith the darted' apoidanee of one fetal be- neath whose feet the plank of safety had been withdrawn. It wasall over -•life.,was,.7il. iver �. Ott . » beenTier rire'w`as-sucrdeniy taken irons her. Hope was dead -the past in which she had lived was all a blank - he did not love her. She said the words, over and over again to herself. He did not love her, this man to whom she had given the passionate love of her whole heart and soul- =he did not love her, and never intended to ask her to be his wife. Why, she had lived for this! This love, lying now in ruins around her, had been her existence. Standing there, in the first full pain of her de- spair, she realized what that love had been -her life, her hope, her world. She had lived in it; she had known no other wish, no other desire. It had been her all, and now it was less than nothing. "How am I to live and bear it?" she asked herself again; and the only answer that came to her was the dull echo of her own despair. That night, while the sweet flowers slept under the light of the stars, and the little birds rested in the deep shade of the trees -while tbe night wind whispered low, and the moon sailed in the sky - Philippa L'Estrange, the belle of the season, one of the most beautiful women in London, one of the wealthiest heir- esses in England, wept through her long hours -wept for the overthrow of her hope and her love, wept for the life that lay in the rains around her. She was of daumtless courage -she knew no fear; but she did tremble and quail before the future stretch- ing out before her - the future that was to have no love, and was to be spent without him. How was she to bear it? She had known no other hope in life, no oth- er dream, What had been childish nonsense to him had been to her a serious and exquisite reality. He had either forgotten it, or had thought of it only with annoyance; she had made it the very corner -stone of her life. It was not only a blow of the keen- est and cruelest kind to her affections, but it was the cruelest blow her van- ity could have possible received. To think that she, who had more admir- ers at her feet than any other wo- man in London, should have tried so hard 'to wire this one, and have failed -that her beauty, her grace, her wit, her talent, should all have been lav- ished upon him, and lavished in vain. Why had she failed so completely? Why had she not won his love? It was given to no other -at least she had the consolation of knowing that. He had talked about his ideal, but he had not found it, he had his own ideal of womanhood, but he had not met with it. "Are other women fairer, more lov- able than I am?" she asked herself. "Why should another win where I have failed?" So through the long hours of the starlit night she lamented the love and the wreck of her life, she mourn- ed for the hope that could never live again, while her name was on the lips of men who praised her as the queen of beauty, and fair women envied her as one who had but to will and to win. She would have given her whole for- tune to win his love -not once, but a hundred times over. It seemed to her a cruel mockery of fate that she who had everything the world could give -beauty, health, wealth, fortune --should ask but this one gift, and that it should be refused her. She watched the stars until they faded from the skies, and then she buried her face in the pillow and sob- bed herself to sleep. CHAPTER XII. It was when the sun, shining into her room, reached her that an idea occurred to Philippa which was like the 4 -springing of new life to her. All was not yet loot. He did not ,love her -he had not thought of making her his wile; but it did not follow that he would never do so. What had not, patience and perseverance aoeom- plithed before now? What bad not love woe? He had acknowledged that she was beantifvl; he had owned to her often how much he admired her. Sa much granted, was it impossible that he efould learn to love ' her? She told herself that she would take courage - thee she world persevere -that her great love =east in time prevail, and that she would devote her life en- weariedty to it. She would caaefufly hide all traces of pique orannoyance. She would never' let him find her dell or un- happy. Men liked to be amtised. She would do her best to entertain him; he should never have a moment's va- cancy in her society. She would find sparkling anecdotes, repartees, witty, humorous etiiriiese to amuse Mimi. He liked her singing, she would culti- vate it more and more. She would seedy him, dress for hint', lice for him, and him alone; she would have no other 'cosh aim, thought, or desire. She would herself be the source of all'his amveemente, so that he should look for the •evey-day pleatsuree' Of hill life to her --mill, such being the base, she would win hire; she feltsnro of it. Why had she been so hopeless, so despairing? There was no real canoe for it. Perhaps, atter all, he bifid looked tipbn the whole affair, not as a solemn engagement,, but as a childish farce. Perhaps he had nev- ar-lreAiis ..gueleh-t .af 1 .-W.a ra Heart Palpitated Would Have to Sit Up in Bed. FELT AS IF'SMOTHERING: Mrs. Francis Madore, Alma, P.E.I., writes: "My heart was in such a bad condition I could not stand any .excite- ment, and at times when I would be talking my heart would palpitate so that I would feel like falling. At night, when I would go to bed and be lying down for a while, I would have to sit up for: ten or fifteen minutes, as I would feel as though I was smothering. I read in the daily paper of a lady who had been in the same condition as I was, and was cured by using Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills, so I bought a box, and they did me so much good, my husband got another, and before I had used half of the second box I was completely cured. I feel as though I can never say enough in favor of your Heart and Nerve Pills." Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are composed of the very best heart and nerve tonics and stimulants known to medical science, and arq for sale at all dealers, or will be mailed direct by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. Price, 50 cents per box, or 3 boxes for 11.25 Mit Viers -OITICFie dui end- fo-ffiat thoughtlessness now. What had pass- ed on the previous day would arouse his attention; he could never know the same indifference again. So she arose with renewed hope. She shrank from the look of her face in the glass. "Cold water and fresh air," she said to herself, with a smile, "will soon remedy such paleness." And thus on that very day began for her the new life -the life in which, no longer sure of her love, she was to try to win it, He would have loved her had he been able; but his own words were true -"Love is fate." There was nothing in common be- tween them -no sympathy -none of those mystical chords that, once touched, set two human hearts throb- bing, and never rest until they are one. He could not have been fonder of her than he was, in a brotherly sense; but as for lover's love, from the first day he had seen her, a beau- tiful, dark -eyed child, until the last he had never felt the least semblance of it. It was a story of failure. She strove as perhaps woman never before had striven, and she succeeded in winning his truest admiration, his warmest friendship; he felt more at home with her than any one else in the wide world. But there it ended -she won no more. It was not, his fault, it was simply because the electric spark called love had never been and never could be elicited between his soul and hers. He would have done anything for her -he was her truest, best friend; but he was not her lover. She hoped against hope. Each day she counted the kind words he had said to her; she noted every glance, every look, every expression. But she could not find that she made any progress -nothing that indicated any change from brotherly friendship to love. Still she hoped against hope; and but for this fountain of hope the chances are that she would have died of a broken heart. Then the season ended. She went back to Verdun Royal with Lady Peters, and Lord Arleigh to Beech - grove. They wrote to each other at Christmas, and met at Calverley, the seat of Lord Rineham. She contriv- ed, even when away from him, to fill his life. She was always consulting him on matters of interest to her; she sought his advice continually, and about everything, from the renewal of a lease to the making of a new acquaintance. "I cannot do wrong," she would say to him, "if I follow your advice." He was pleased and happy to be able to help the daugh- ter of his mother's dearest friend. Her manner completely deceived him. If she bad evinced the least pique or discontent- if she had by word or look shown the least resent- ment -he would have suspected that she cared for him, and would have been on his guard. As it was, he would not have believed any one who hail told him she loved him. The explanation had been made; there was no imager even a shadow between them; they both understood that the weak nonsensical tie was broken. That they were the dearest of friends, and quite happy, would hay, _beery_ArtPie . notion ref eiamemaisimmimmaim The Army of Constipation - Ia Growing Smaller ivory Dafr. CARTER'S LUTTLti UVER P1113 s. tw a.bte-t)eysot .ale sire relief-- Iisypermaaeady cure Constips- Yea. Mil- lioas use lice for /ifAws. Nese, Indigestion, Skit Hediscke, S.ltere Skin. Small Pill, Saadi Dos., soairPrka , Genuine mutt lame Signature • ompipIRPINIMPINIPININIMPIIIMPO tTiit1eis.'bitiilap z ;isieanginnrgiit have told a different story. The proposed party at Beechgrove did not come off, There were some repairs needed in the eastern wing, and Lord Arleigh himself had so many engagements, that no time could be found for it; but when the season came round Philippa and he met again. By this time some of Miss L'Estrange's admirers had come to the conclusion that there was no truth in. the report of the engagement be- tween herself and Lord Arleigh. Amongst these was his grace the Duke of Hazlewood. He loved the beauti- ful queenly girl who had so disdain- fully' refused his coronet -the very refusal had made him care more than ever for her. He was worldly-wise enough to know that there were few women in London who would have refused him; and he said to himself that, if she would not marry him, he would go unmarried to the grave. He was one of the first to feel sure that there was no truth in the rumors that had grieved him so the previous year. Miss L'Estrange and Lord Arleigh were by force of circumstances great friends -nothing more; and this sea- son he determined to make a friend of the man he had detested as a rival. When the Duke of Hazlewood made up his mind, he generally accomplish- ed his desire; he sought Lord Arleigh with such assiduity, he made himself so pleasant and agreeable to him, that the master of Beechgrove soon showed him his most cordial and sincere lik- ing. Then they became warm friends. The duke confided in Lord Arleigh- hehim told th , e whole ole story of his love for Miss L'Estrange. "I know," he said, "that no one has so much influence over her as you. I do not believe in the absurd stories told about an engagement between you, but I see plainly that she is your friend, and that you are hers; and I want you to use your influence with her in my favor." Lord Arleigh promised to do so - and he intended to keep his promise; they were on such intimate and friendly terms that he could venture upon saying anything of that kind to her. She would not be displeased -on the contrary, she would like his advice, it might even be that before now she had wished to ask for it, but had not liked to do so-so completely did these two play at cross-purposes and misunderstand each other. It was easier to say to himself that he would speak to her as the duke wished than to do it. He saw that any allusion to her lovers or admirers made her ill at ease -she did not like it; even his laughing comments on the homage paid to her did not please her. "I do not like lovers," she said to him one day, "and I am tired of ad- mirers -I prefer friends." "But," he opposed, laughingly, "if all that wise men and philosophers tell us is correct, there are no true friends." He never forgot the light that shone in her face as she raised it to his. "I do not believe that," she re- turned, "there are true friends -you are one to me." The tenderness of her manner struck him forcibly. Something kinder and softer stirred in his heart than had ever stirred before for her; he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Yon are right, Philippa," he said. "If ever a woman had a true, stanch friend, I am and will be one to you." From her heart to her lips rose the words, "Shall you never be more?" Perhaps even her eyes asked the ques- tion more eloquently than her lips could have done, for his face flushed, and she turned away with some slight embarrassment. I shall try to keep your friend- ship," she said; "but that will be easily done, Norman." "Yea," he replied; "one of the tree ditiong of our house is 'truth in friend- ship, trust in love, honor in war.' To be a true friend and a noble foe is characteristic of the Arleighs." "I hope you will never be a foe of mine," she rejoined, laughingly. And that evening, thinking over the events of the day, she flattered herself that she had. made some little progress at - ter all. CHAPTER XIII. The opportunity that Lord Arleigh looked for came at last. Philippa had some reason to doubt the honesty of a man whom she had been employing as agent. She was kind of heart, and did not wish to punish him, yet she felt sure that he had not done his duty by her. To speak to her solicitors about it would be, she felt, injurious to him, whether innocent or guilty. If innocent, it would create a pre- judice against him; if guilty, they would wish to punish him. She re- solved upon laying the matter before Lord neigh, and seeing what be thought of it. He listened very patiently, exam- ined the affair, and then told her that he believed she had been robbed. "What. shall I do?" elm asked, look- ing at him earnestly. I know what you ought to do, Philippa. You ought to punish him." "But he has a wife, Norman, and innocent little children; in exposing him I shall punish them, and they am innocent." That is one of the strangest of uni- versal laws to me," said Lord Ar- / h: "why the innocent always do anti always must suffer for the guilty; it is one of the mysteries 1 shall nev- er understand. Common sena tells me that you ought to expose. thin mau -that he ought to be punished for what he has dome. Yet, if you do, his' wife and children will be dragged down into an abyss of misery. Sup- pose yon make a eoamprome of mat- ters and lecture him well. He was half smiling as he speke, but she took every word in senora earnest. °Philippa," he continued, "why do you riot marry? A husband would ea>,e you all this trouble; he would attend to your affairs, and shield yar from annoyances of this kind." "The aaswar to your question, do I not marry?" would form a bag story," she replied, and that she turned the conversation. But he was determined to )kap his w4, as ea4ed. wfti► her- fuer t gym.+y, Ng 42 The Proprietaryorpaient *deme AVegetablePre arationfcrAs s imi la tt nelhereed and Regula' ting the Stomachs and Ruwels of ; nessandReit.Contain neither: Opium,Morphine nor Mineral.: NOT NARCOTIC_ fe!(/LLHl Iiwidia Spa AuleXrd fippamed Bodiadar Otationotrada likSwina Can sod ls"9'T'' N.„ vrucfta Aperfec S Remedy Diarrhoea' tion, So Worms, feverish nessmat ; Loss OF SLEEP. y'ac5imoil'elSSignature of THE CENTOR o�YO k' MONTREAL & N� At months oldsis 35n__ S 3 Exact Copy of Wrapper. C AsTomA, For Infants and Children. Mothers Know That Genuine Castoria s B Always Bears the Signature of i In Use For Over; t Thirty Years, CASTORIA ?Ni CiNT*' COMPANY,"Nee, YO,,,( C,TV- duke. -Anotliei^ opportuniff came tans evening. It was Lady Peters' birth- day, and Philippa had invited some of her most intimate friends; not young people, but those with whom' she thought her chaperon would en- joy herself best. The result was a very pleasant dinner party, followed by a very pleasant evening. Load Arleigh could not be absent, for it was, in' some measure, a family fete. The guests did not remain very late, and Lady Peters, professing herself tired with tbe exertions she had madei lay down on a couch, and was soon asleep. Philippa stood by the window, with the rose -silk hangings drawn. "Come out on tbe balcony," she said to Lord Arleigh, "the room is' very warm." It was night, but the darkness was silver-gray, not black. The sky above was brilliant with the gleam of a thousand stars, the moon was shin- ing behind some silvery clouds, the great masses of foliage in the park were just stirred with the whisper of the night, and sweetest odors came from heliotrope and mignonette; the brooding silence of the summer night lay over the land. Philippa sat down, and Lord Arleigh stood by her side. The moonlight falling on her beau- tiful face softened it into wondrous loveliness -it was pale, refined, with depths of passion in the dark eyes, and tender, tremulous smiles on the scarlet lips. She wore some material of white and gold. A thin scarf was thrown carelessly over her white shoulders. When the wind stirred it blew the scarf against her face. She might have been the very god- dess of love, she looked so fair out in the starlight. If there had been one particle of love in Lord Arleigh's heart, that hour and scene must have called it into life. For a, time they sat In perfect silence. Her head was thrown back against a pillar round which red roses clustered and .clung, and the light of the stars fell hill up- on her face; the dark eyes were hill of radiance. How beautiful it is, Norman!" she s suddenly. "What music bas ever equaled the whispers of the night wind? It seems a sad pity after all that we are obliged to lead such con- ventional lives, and spend the greater part of them in warm, dose rooms." "You have a great love for out•of- door freedom," he remarked, laugh- ingly. Yes, I love the fresh air. I think if any one asked me what I loved best on earth, I should say the wind. I love it in all its moods -rough, car- essing, tender, impetuous, calm, stormy. It is always beautiful. Listen to it now, just sighing in the branches of those tall trees. Could any music be eweeter or softer?" "No," he replied, and then added: "The time and the scene embolden me, Philippa; there is something that I wish to say to you --something that I long have wished to say. Will you hear it now? A tremor` like that of the trees in the wind seemed to pass over her. There was a startled expression in the dark eyes, a quiver of the crirrr- eon lips. Was it coming at last --this for which she had longed all her life? She controlled all outward signs of emotion and turned to him quite calm- lyi`I ant always ready to listen to you, NNrtnan, and to hear what yon have to say." "Yore bee; ghilippe, the starlight makes me bold. If we were in that brilliatrt1y iig}it�i drawingaroom of yoga, I shorild probably hesitate long before speaking, as tun going to do now." He saw her clasp her hands tight-. ly, but he hod no key to *hat was passing in her mind. He area nearer, to her. 'Yost leisure, P'hierok" he began. "that I have aiwape bean f+bud of you. I have always taken the Jame interest in ran _that I aleoudd have taken in a dy-loved elder of my own, if Heaven had given. me one." She muuunmrod some flyer words w7ch_lt�e did_�u .ice .. - --r sat going to apes= to you now/4 lie continued, "just as though. yo were my own sister; have I your per- mission to do so, Philippa?" Yes," she replied. And you promise not to be angr'yj about anything that I may say?" "I could never be angry with yotte Norman," she answered. "Then I want you to tell me wh1 you will not marry the Duk of Harley wood. You have treated me as your brother and your friend. The question might seem impertinent from another, from me it will not appear impertin.t ent, nor curious -simply true ands kindly interest. Why will you not marry him, Philippa?" A quick sharp spasm of pain passed over her face. She was silent for at minute before she answered him, and then she said: - The reason is very simple, Normans -because I do not love him." "That is certainly a strong reason;t but, Philippa, let me ask you now another question -why do you not, love him?" She could have retorted, "Why do you not love me?" but prudence fora bade it. I cannot tell you. I have heard you say love is fate. I should imaging it must be because the Duke of Hazle- wood, is not my fate." He did not know what answer tot make to that, it was so entirely his; own way of thinking. But, Philippa," he resumed, after a pause, "do you not think that yea.. might love him if you tried?" I have never thought about it,"t was the quiet reply. Lord Arieigh continued: "In my idea he is one of the mostt charming men in England; I have never seen a more perfect type of what! an English gentleman should be• -het is noble, generous, brave, chivalrouse What fault do you find with him, Philippa?" I?" she asked. looking up at him; in wonder. "My dear Norman, I have never found fault with the duke irg my life." "Then why can you not love him?"t "That is a very different thing. Il find no fault with him; on the con= trary, I agree with you that he is one of the noblest of men, yet I hovel never thought of marrying him. But, Philippa" -and with kindly, impressiveness he laid one hand on. her shoulder -"why do you not think 'of marrying him? Between you and' myself there can be no complimentg,1 mo flattery. I tell you that of all the; women in England you are the one' most fitted to be the Duchess of Hazlewood• -rand you would be a bean- rtiful duchess, too. Think of the posi tion you would occupy -second to royalty. I should like to see you in such a position -you would fill its grandly. Think of the power, the in -4 'fluence, the enormous amount of good you could do; think of it all, Philip-- Pa." ' He did not see the sudden, sharp quiver of pain that passed over the beautiful face, nor how pale it grew in +' • starlight. "I am thinking," she answered, quietly --"I am listening attentively to all that you say." 1 She drew the light scarf more close- ly around her shoulders, and shudder- ed as though a chill breeze had pass- ed over her. e "A y yon cold, dear?" he asked k"Odd! How could I be on this warm starlit night? Go on, Norman; let me hear all that you have to say." "I am trying to persuade you to accent what seems to ire one of the happiest lots ever offered to worean, I want to see you the Duke of Thule, wood's wife. I cannot imagine hn man more calculated to trio a wom- an' love or to please her fancy than he is. Ile is young, handsome, noble in face and figure as he is in heart and soul; and he is clever and gifted." "Yee," she allowed, slowly, "he is all that, Norman " "Some day or other he, will be the leading spirit in the land; he will be the head of a great' party." "That I believe," she agreed. "And he loves you bo well., lava newel seen 'a wean mdrlk *.� li(TO S ONTIN1J D.,)