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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-08-31, Page 7bfferSuSSSSSSS :SSS f August 31th, i90 THE WINGHAM TIMES 1 , M cis v5S�o�i ae uSvS A WIFE IN NAME ONLY vSvSvSv S BY BERTHA M. CLAY S�ciS;c�l S SS S u5�r�.,rSnr uT2,,S'q S �,Sr r"S �c�iSSS V V V �f:/Su v MEN. 6/1 c/a cn Ct / aSt lo herself. b "There lcould be"nohe aid fuller.. But what shall I do when it is all known?" She snot one o flinch from the course ofaction she bad marked out ,for herself, nor from the consequences •of that course; but she shuddered even in the heat, as she thought what her life would be when her vengeance was taken. "He will never forgive me," she ,said, "he will look upon me as the wiees not mate "ter h 1• e at of women. It sshould not have oexasperated me by slighting me." Then the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together—great purple maestro of clouds piled themselves in' -the sky, a lurid light overspread the °heavens, the dense oppressive silence was broken by a distant peal of thun- der, great rain -drops fell—fierce, 'heavy drops. The trees seemed to stretch out their leaves to drink in the 'moisture, the parched flowers welcom- ed the grateful downpour; and still 'the Duchess of Hazlewood stood out' •on the terrace, ao deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she never heed -•ed the rain. Madaline hastened out to her with •a shawl. "Dear duchess,," she cried, "it is! raining; and you are so absorbed in! 'thought that you do not notice it" . She laughed a strange, weird laugh,' -and raised her beautiful face with its! "expression of gloom. 'Id not notice it, Madaline," she. •said; }'but there ia,no need for anxiety' *bout me," she added, proudly. They re-entered the house together., Madaline believed that the duchess was thinking of and grieving over the departure of the duke. Lady Peters -thought the same. They both did. •their best to comfort her—to amuse. her and attract her thoughts. But the absent expression did not die from 'her dark eyes. When they had talked' lo her some little time she took up the "Lady of Lyons." How much you admire that play," ^said Madaline; "I see you reading its so often:" "I we a fancy for it." returned, *the ductless; "it suits my taste. And; r admire the language very mach." "Yet it is a cruel story," observed! Madaline; "the noblest character inl it is Pauline." "She .was very proud; and pride, Ii -suppose, must suffer," said the duch- ess, carelessly. "She was not too proud, after all, lo love a noble man, when she once' recognized him, duchess." ¶f $he learned to love the prince— ache 'would never have loved the gar- dener," remarked Philippa; 9t was a terrible vengeance." "I do not like stories of vengeance," -said Madaline. "After all, though, I 'love the Claude of the story, and find -much .true nobility in him—much to admire. When reading the play, I am 'tempted ..all . the time to ask myself, Hqw could he do it? It was an un- manly act." There was a strange light in the "dark,eyes, a quiver on the scarlet lips, as Philippa said: "Do you think so?, Suppose some one .had offended•you as Pauline of•. feuded Clhude—laughing at the love you offered, scorned, mocked, despised you—and that such vengeance as his My in your power; would you not stake it?" The sweet face flushed. "No, I would rather die," Madaline ,replied quickly. "I would take it, and glory in it," •said the duchess, firmly. "If I were •whunded, insulted; and slighted as 'Claude, was, I would take the cruelest revenge that I could." Madaline took one of the jeweled 'Minds in her own and kissed . it. "I should never be afraid of you," -else said; "yon could never hurt any •one. Your vengeance would end in :the bestowal .of, a favor'," "Do you think so highly Of me„ 'Madaline?" asked Philippa, sadly. "Think jtrighly , of you 1. Why, .year •would eau h if you knew how I love theoveStritholealeata Etyma fir Had Pimples ail Festering Sores o'N HER FACE. • lath*' the blood gets• jhed, boils, ;pimples and festering sores are sure to :hrcak out on the face and body. To, get mid ot them the blood should be cleansed eby Burdock Mood Bitters; Mrs. Charles Jewell, Osteine, 'Onto, -"elites: "I feel it ray duty to write and -tell you about what Burdoek Blood :Bitters has done for mees I was se pale Thad no color at all. I alio had pishpiee And festering sores on my face, and my . e. Ih ati near, 1 the time. bead ached al e d y been reach-41in the, paper and saw that "Burdock titled Bittera..Waai• salast for such troubles so I tried a bottle and before it tots half done I felt fine, atrd,wben the bottle was finished I !flit fika ilk nate aro- -item. I tell ell my friends about it, and :advise everyone suffering from suck teettble to use, aeon t only one B.B.B. That is the y" `err :ir:u•t.urrtl by The T. ;'t'. ',Lute to t -V a ereeitcei, Tomato, Oust. 'u►e`Th$r" ou�uoad-3o "the "leiil thing wrong, I should not believe' thm." "Poor child r' said the duchess, sad- ly. Why do you; call me 'poor chiid'F"' she asked. laughingly. "Because you have such implicit faith, and ..are sure to be so cruelly disappointed," "I would rather have the faith, and bear the disappointment, than be' without both," said Madaline. CHAPTER XIX. On the day of his departure the duke had sand to his wife: "I have invited Norman to spend a few weeks with, you; have some pleasant people to meet him. He tells' me he will not go to Scotland this year." "I will ask Miss Byrton and Lady Sheldon," Philippa heel.. promised, "Only two ladies!" the duke had laughed. "He will want some one to smoke his cigar with," "I will ti'"iust to some happy its. apiration at the time, then," she had replied; and they had not mentioned the matter again. Early in August Lord Arleigh wrote that if it were convenient he should prefer paying his promised visit at once. ife concluded his letter by saying: My dear Philippa, your kind, good husband has said something ,to me about a pleasant party. I should so much prefer one of my old style visits —no parties, no ceremonies. I want to see you and Verdun Royal, not a crowd of strange faces. Lady Peters is chaperon, if you have any linger- ing doubt about the 'proprieties'," So it was agreed that he should come alone ,and later on, if the du- chess cared to invite more friends, she could do so The fact was that Lord Arieigh wanted time for his wooing. He had found that he could not live without Madaline. He had thought most care, fully about everything, and had de- cided on asking her. to be his wife. True, there was the drawback of her parentage—but that, was not griev- ous, not so terrible. Of course, if she had really been lowly born—de- scended from the dregs of the people, or the daughter of a criminal—fie would have trampled his love under foot. He would have said to himself, Noblesse oblige, and, rather than tarn- ish the honor of his family, he would have given her up. This. was not needed. Related to the Duke of Hazlewood, there could not be anything wrong. The duchess had told him distinctly that Made - line's mother had married beneath her, and that the whole family on that account had completely ignored her. He did not remember that the duchess had told him so in as many words, but he was decidedly of the opinion that Madaline's mother was a cousin of the duke's, and that she had married a drawing -master, who had afterward turned out wild and profligate.• The drawing -master weir dead. His darling Madaline had good blood in her veins — was descended from an ancient:et and;: noble fitznilr. That she bad neither fortune nor pow - titan was immaterial to him. He had understood from the duchess that the mother of his fair young love lived in quiet retirement. : He could pot remember in what words 'all this had been told to him, but this was the tmpreesion that was on his mind. So he had determined on making Mada- line his wife if he could but win her consent. The only .thingto be feared was her own unwillingness. She was fair and fragile, but she had a won- derful strength of will. He had thought it all over. He remermben d well .what theduchess had said about the duke's not caring to hear the matter mentioned. Lord Arte gh ,onuld understand,; -that, with all ,his gentleness, Hazlewood was Ili proud man, and that if there; had been .a ateeiidliarree in his' fsrbaly, would bethe last to wish it discussed Still Lord Aileigh knevt that he wo approve of the marriage. It was plaafl, however »that.it would be better t it to take place while he was awe,/ from England, and then it would not, eoold not in any way compromise him. ,A , quiet marriage would not attract attention. • .. , , If her could only win Madaline`e Consent. She had been so unwilling to, promisee. him her,,,friendship and then so nhwilling''to hear that he 10!'- ed her. He ereold form no idea as to how she would receive the offer of marriage .*hathe intended to make rr That wed erhY be Wished terowalonei He ^would have time and opportunity then. ..:"As for..Philippa, he; did not fear any real objeetiott from her; if she eerie belle d•. -or thought,• tied hie :;heath Was fixed on marrying Madaline. he was sate she Would help him. i r Marry Madeline he musia-lite wale notheng to him without her, He bid `111. Ml,`IA :tif8':fever called Iove. He knew now hour completely love bed Mastered him. Ise could think el nothing 1a'nt:;.iind>tiihe . ... ..He "iseMatt'.doenv,tb ,Verdun Borg.beset ant+..i.iuL .ao tatiipletely wrapped in Madeline *hart he hardly remetie bevel Philipp o-barddly remernberea that efraa Ott g was going to wee Medline, fat*!, sweat M iso--ic ask her to be hie ntlIKAO, *Met wir1 : -lior his owls!. It was afternoon when he reached Verdun Royal. The glory of stu rener irsreotpr the ,teeth. •lie: M ode:L.it Esti seTt "fog" re was nctr'voas 'lim.- id; he longed to see Madaline, yet trembled at the thought of meeting her, • "So this is love?" said Lord Ar- leigh to himself, with a smile. "I used to wonder why it made men cowards, and what there was to fear; I can understand it now." Then he saw the great towers and turrets of Verdun Royal rising from the trees; he thought of his childish visits to the house, and how his moth- er taught him to call the child Phi- lippa his little wile, Who would have thought in those days that Philippa would live to be a duchess, and that he should so wildly worship, so mad- ly love, a fairer, younger face? He was made welcome at, Verdun Royal. Lady Peters received him as though he were her own son. Then the duchess entered, with a glad light in her eyes, and a smile that was half wistful. She greeted him warm- ly; she was" pleased to seehim— pleased to welcome him; the whole house was at his service, and every- thing in it, . He had never seen the duchess look better; she wore her favorite colors, amber and white. "I have attended to your wishes, Norman," she said; "you must not blame me if you are dull. I have asked no one to meet you." "There is no fear of my ever being dull here, Philippa," he returned. "You forget that I am almost as much at home, as you are yourself. I can remember when I looked upon coming to Verdun Royal as coming home." A shadow of pain crossed her face at this reference to those early happy days. Then he summoned up courage, and said to her: Where is your fair companion, Phi- lippa?" "She is somewhere about the grounds," replied the duchess. "I can never persuade her to remain in -doors unless she has something to do. So you have not forgotten her?" added the duchess, after a short pause. "I have not forgotten her, Philippa. I shall have something very impor- tant to say to you about her before I go away again." She gave no sign that she under- stood him, but began to talk •to him upon a number of indifferent mat- ters—the warmth of the weather, his journey down, the last news from her husband—and he answered her some- what impatiently. His thoughts were with Madaline. At last the signal of release came. "We need not play at 'company,' Norman," said the duchess. "As you say, Verdun Royal has always been like home to you. Continue to make it so. We dine at eight—it is now nearly five. You will find plenty to amuse yourself with. Whenever you wish for my society, you will find me in the drawing room or my boudoir." He murmured some faint words of thiiknks, thinking to himself how con- siderate she was, and that she guess- ed he wanted to find Madaline. With a smile on her •face, she turned to. him as she was quitting the room. "Vere seemed very uneasy, when he was going away, lest you should not feel at liberty to smoke when you liked," she said. "Pray• do not let the•fact of his absence prevent your. enjoying a cigar whenever you feel inclined for ,one." "A thousand thanks, Philippa," re- turned Lord Arleigh, inwardly hoping " that Madaline would give him scant time for the ,enjoyment of cigars. Then he went across the lawn, won- dering hoer glee . would look, where' he; should find her, and what she would say to $iim when she saw him. Onete or twice he fancied that he saw the glimmer of a. white dress between the.,trees, He_ wondered if ohe felt shy at seeing him;; es he did at seeing her. Then suddenly—it was as though a• bright light had fallen from the skies --he came upan her standing under a gsteat linden -tree, Madaline !" he said gently. And she carne to him with outstretched hands. r: CHAPTER XX. Later on that afternoon the heat seemed to have increased, not lessen- ed,, and the ladies had declared: even the cool, shaded drawing-roorn, with its sweet scents and mellowed light, io be too warin; so they had gone out on to the lawn, whore a sweet western wind was bloering. Lady Patera had taken with her' a book, which` she made some pretense of reading, but ovet which her eyes closed in most su.3picious fashion. The duchess, too, bad a book but she made no pretense of opening it --her beautiful face had a restless, half -wistful expression. They had quitted the drawing -room allt r, but Madaline had gone to teenier. lid, e The duchess liked thezn.z freshly :gathered.: and Madeline kne'r no delight so keen as that of giving her p1easute. When she had been gorlb -eome •Seir minutes, Lord Arleigh asked where she.! -1ia,:_Itaatd ,the.: .,duchess . owned, laughingly, to her fondness for sniii!kissed Deat:teMit ^w A . cy " "Madeline always deo trigaeato"��dd the,iveary beet for mei tette4e1W. Alain is gone to look for sora now." "I will go and help her," At; looking at Fhili'8''free. Ifeogfht the fair cheeks thin- edvMlp 'raga-iiiili,ke-pdilibee; with ,,heir, eoft, sweet, vivid eolonng. fibs smiled to herself with bitter e.. m. it. whist: aaway I KEEP THE BOWELS REGULAR AND AVOID CONSTIPATION. When the bowels are not•kept regular they become clogged up with waste and poisonous matter, causing Pg_onstipation, biliousness, sick headaches, piles, and all kinds of liver troubles. Milbum's Lasa -Liver Pills will regu- late the bowels so that.you may have a free and easy motion every day. One pill every night for thirty days will cure the worst cases of constipation. Mr. John J. Smith, Elginburg, Ont., writes: I had been troubled for a great while with constipation, and tried many different remedies which did me no good. I happened to try Milburn's Laza-Liver Pills, and I have found them most bene- ficial." Milburn's Lasa -Liver Pills are 25 cents per vial, or five vials for 81.00; for sale at all dealers, or mailed direct on receipt of price by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. "I£ worlis wen; she' said; "but it is his own fault—Heaven knows, his own fault." An hour afterward Lady Peters said to her, in a very solemn tone of voice: "Philippa, my dear, it may not be my duty to speak, but I cannot help asking you if you notice anything?" "No, nothing at this minute•" But Lady Peters shook her head with deepest gravity. "Do you not notice the great atten- tion that Lord Arleigh pays your beau- tiful young companion?' "Yes, I have noticed it," said the duchess—and all her efforts did not prevent a burning, passionate flush rising to her face. "May I ask what you think of it, my dear?" "I think nothing of it. If Lord Ar- leigh chooses to fall in love with her, he may. I•warned him when she first came to live with me—I kept her most carefully out of his sight; and then, when I could no longer con- veniently do so, I told him that he must not fall in love with her. I told him of her birth, antecedents, misfortunes — everything connected with her. His own mother. or sister could not have warned him more sensibly." "And what was the result?" asked Lady Peters, gravely. "Just what one might have eipect- ed from a man," laughed the duchess. "Warn them against any particular thing, and it immediately possesses a deep attraction for them. The result was that he said she was his ideal, fairly, fully, and perfectly realized. I, of course, could say no more." "But," cried Lady Peters, aghast, "you do not think it probable that he will marry her?" "I cannot tell. He is a man of honor. He would not make love to her without intending to marry her." "But there is not a better family in England than the Arleighs of Beechgrove, Philippe It would be terrible for him --such a mesalliance surely he will never dream of it." "She is beautiful, graceful, gifted, and good," was the rejoinder. But it is useless for us to argue about the matter. He has said nothing about marrying her; he has only called her his ideal." I cannot understand it," said poor Lady Peters. "It seems strange to me.,, She would have thought it strang- er still if she had followed them and heard what Lord Arleigh was saying. He had followed Madaline to the southern wall, whereon the luscious peaches and apricots grew. He found her, as the duchess had intimated, busily engaged in choosing the ripest and best. He thought he had never weenfairer picture than this golden - haired girl standing by the green leaves and rich fruit, He thought of Tennyson's "Gardener's Daughter." "One arm aloft— Gowned in pure white that fitted to her shape— Holding. the bush, to fix it back, she Thefufull day dwelt on her brows, and sunned Her violet eyes, and all her Helie bioom, Ate doubled his own warmth against her Iota.- . - - . TheWretchedneas of Constipation Cas quickly be overcome by GARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PILLS Pertly vegetable —act surely and gently ea the liver. Cure Silkworms. Hesdr trite, Dint. nets, #t4 bidigeatiorn. They do their duty. Small P111. Sum' D..e, /Laud! 1pkaa, Genuine cwt bear. Signature Andorean st.t3 ' beauteous wave of such a b As neverhalf penshadecil drew, Half light, , She stood, a sight to make an old man young." He repeated the lines to himself as he stood watching her, and then he went nearer and called: "Madaline !" Could he doubt that she Ioved him? Her fair face flushed deepest crimson, but, instead of turning to him, she moved half coyly, half shyly away. "How quick you are," he said, "to seize every opportunity of evading me! Do you think you can escape me, Madaline? Do you think my love is so weak, so faint, so feeble, that it can be pushed aside lightly by your will? Do you think that, if you tried to get to the other end of the world, you could escape me?" Half blushing, half laughing, trem- bling, yet with a happy light in her blase eyes, she said: "I think you are more terrible than any one I know." "I am glad that you are growing frightened, and are willing to own that you have a master—that is as it should be. I want to talk to you, Madaline. You evade me lest you should be compelled to speak to me; you lower those beautiful eyes of yours, lest I should be made happy by looking into them. If you find it possible to avoid my presence, to run away from me, you do. I am sure to woo you, to win you, to make you my sweet, dear wife—to make you happier, I hope, than any woman has ever been before—and you try to evade me, sweet, cruel Madaline !" "I am afraid of you, Lord Arleigh," she said, little dreaming how muck that naive confession implied. "Afraid of me! That is because you see I am quite determined to win you. I can easily teach you how to forget all fear." She raised her blue eyes to his. "Can you?" she asked, doubtfully, "Yes, I can indeed, Madaline. De- posit those peaches in their green leaves on the ground. Now place both your hands in mine." She quietly obeyed the first half of his request as though she were a child, and then she paused. The sweet face crimsoned again; he took her hands in his. "You •must be obedient," he said, "Now look at me." But the white lids drooped over the happy eyes. "Look at me, Madaline," he re- peated, "and say, 'Norman, I do love you. I will forget all the nonsense I have talked about inequality, of posi- tion, and will be your wife." "In justice to yourself I cannot say it." He felt the little hands tremble in a hiskiss, grasp and he released them with "You will be compelled to say it some day, darling. You might as well try now. If I cannot win you for my wife, I will have no wife, Madaline. Ah, now you are sorry you have vexed me! " And so it was—half sly, half shy; You would and would not, little one, Although I pleaded tenderly, And you and I were all alone.' Why are you so hard, Madaline? I am sure you like me a little; you dare not raise your eyes to mine and say, 'I do not love you, Norman'." "No," she confessed, "I dare not. But there is love and love; the lowest love is all self, the highest is all sac- rifice. I like the highest" And then her eyes fell on the peaches, and she gave a little ery of alarm. "What will the duchess sayr' she cried. "Oh, Lord Arleigh, let me go." "Give me one kind word, then." "What am I to say? Oh, do let me go!" "Say, 'I like you, Norman'," "I like you, Norman," she said; and, taking up the peaches, she has- tened away. Yet, with her flushed face and the glad light in her flushed eyes, she did not dare to present her- self at once before the duchess and Lady Peters. CHAPTER XXI. Was there some strange, magnetic attraction between Lord Arleigh and Madaline, or could ft be that the valet, knowing or guessing the stale of his master's affections, gave what he no doubt considered a timely hint? Something of the kind must have hap- pened, for Madaline, unable to sleep,. unable to rest, had risen in the early morning, while the dew was on the grass, and had gone out into the shade of the woods. The August sun shone brightly, a soft wind fanned her cheeks. Madaline looked around before she entered the woods. The square turrets of Verdun Royal rose high above the trees. They were tall and thick -set, with great umbrageous boughs and massive, rugged trunks, the boughs almost reaching down to the long, thick grass. A little brook went sing- ing through the woods—a brook of clear, rippling water. Madaline sat down by the brook -side. Her head ached for want of sleep, her heart was stirred by a hundred varied emotions. Did she love him? Why ask herself the question? She did love him—she trembled to think how much. It was that very love which made her hesi- tate. She hardly dared to think of him. In her great humility she over- looked entirely the fact of her own great personal loveliness, her grace and gifts. She could only wonder what there was in her that could attract Ile was A descendant of one of the oldest. families in England -'he had a title, he Was wealthy, clever, he had every greet and good gift 'yet he loved her; he stooped from his exalted position to love her, and she, for hit own sake, wished to reiuoe his love. DTA she found it difficult. She sat down by the brook -fide, and, perhaps for the first time m her gentle life, a feeling of dissatuttae- tion role within her;; yet it' iPaq, net Ito much that as a longing that she could be different from what,ebe was --a wish that she had. beefs Nobly born,endowed with some great gift that Would have brought hat nearer to hint. low happy she woad have been then—how proud to Iowa hiss tig7l idieLta.,3ersteYom' ti Chlldreri Cry for Fletcher's The Kind You Have Always l3oseght, and which has beers in use for over .iO 'ea;:s, has borne the signature ot and has been made under his per-, ' sonal supervision since its infancy. Allow no one to deceive you'll this.. All Counterfeits, 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 stabstitute for Castor, 011, pare.. goric, Drops and Soothing Syrups. It is pleasant. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic substance. Its ago is its guarantee. It destroys Worms and allays Feverishness. For xnore 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—'.Che Mother's Friend. GENUINE CASTORIA ALWAYS Bears the Signature of In Use For Over 30 Years The Kind You Have Always Fought THE CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY. Tile ery an nTal;'presenf iirveas di/re-r- ent; the most precious thing that she could give him—which was her love— would be most prejudicial to him. And just as that thought came to her, causing the blue eyes to fill with tears, she saw him standing before her. She was not surprised; he was so completely part and parcel of her thoughts and her life that she would never have felt surprised at seeing him. He came up to her quietly. "My darling Madaline, your face is pale, and there are tears in your eyes. What is the matter? What has brought yon out here when you ought to be in -doors? What fs the trouble that has taken away the. roses and put lilies in their place?" "I have no trouble, Lord Arieigh," she replied. "I came here only to think." To think of what, sweet?" Her face flushed. "I cannot tell you," she answered. "You cannot expect that I should tell you everything.' "You tell me nothing, Madaline. A few words from you would make me the happiest man in the world, yet you will not speak them." all the assumed lightness and carelessness died from his manner. He came nearer to her; her eyes drooped before the fire of his. "Madaline, my love let me plead to you," he said, 'for the gift of your, love. Give me that, and I shall be content. You think I nen proud," he continued; • "I am not one-half so proud, sweet, as you. You recuse to love me—why? Because of your pride. You have some foolish notions that the difference in our positions should part us. You are quite wrong—love knows no such difference." "But the world does," she interrupt- ed. "The world !" he repeated, with con- tempt. "Thank Heaven it is not my master! What matters what the world says?" You owe more to the name and honor of your family than to the world," she said. "Of that," he observed, "you must allow me to be the best judge." She bowed submissively. "The dearest thing in life to inc is the honor of my name, the honor of my race," said Lord Arleigh, "It has never been tarnished; and I pray Heaven that no stain may ever rest upon it. I will be frank with you, Madaline, as you are with me, though I love you so dearly that my very life is bound up in yours. I would not ask you to be my wife if I thought that in doing so I was bringing a shadow of dishonor on my race—if I thought that I was in ever re slight a degree tarnishing my name; but I do not think so. I speak to you frank- ly. I know the story of your misfor- tunes; and, knowing it, do not deem it sufficient to part us. Listen and believe me, Madaline—if I stood with you before the altar, with your hand in mine, and the solemn words of the marriace service on any lips, ancrany- thing even then carte to my knowl- edge which I thought prejudicial to the fame and honor of my race I should, without hesitation, ask you to release me. Do you believe me?" "Yes," she replied, slowly, "I be- lieve you," "Then why not trust me fully? I know your story—it is an old story after all. I know it by heart; It ant the beat judge of it. I have weighed it most carefully; it has not been re lightly -considered matter with me at all, and, atter thinking it well over, I hate corne it. the conclusion that it is not sufficient to part us. You see, sweet, that you may implicitly be- eu mo li e e I have ho f' alaeg doss of compliments. Frankly, as you yoin'. golf would do, I admit the drawback; but, unlike you, I affirm that it dose not matter. "But would you always think eo? The time might conte when the re- m emb raribe of -to father's- -.,";. "Iluah'fr tiffstc(i31,htl ?Me mat- ter must never be d`rici Nit, between M. I tell `you !tinkly that 1„ eiizould not case fes- the Whole world to Imo* yonn.i. o .l_ 1f Mr. it ,ly141 crue•'Fess :!nowit.-Ttidre ll -no rieedTor it to be known to others; and believe me, Madaline, it never wilt be and never need be known—we may keep it out of sight. It is not likely that I shall ever repent, for it will never be of any more importance to me thea it is now." He paused abruptly, for her bine eyes were looking wistfully at him_ "What is it, Madaline?" he asked, gently. 'I wish you would let me tell you all about it—how my mother, eta gentle and good, came to marry .my father, and how he fell—how he was tempted and fell. May I tell you, Lord Arleigh r' No," he replied, after a short pause, "I would rather not hear it. The duchess has told me all I care to know. It will be better, believe me, for the whole story to die away. If IE had wished .to hear it, I should have asked you to tell it me." "It would make me happier," she said: "I should know then that there was no mistake." "There is no mistake, my darling—. the duchess has told me; and it is not likely that she has made a mistake, is it?" "No. She knows the whole story from beginning to end. If she has told you, you know all." "Certainly I do; and, knowing all, I have eome here to beg you to make me happy, to honor me with your love, to be my wife. Ah, Madaline, do not let your pride part us !" He saw that she trembled and hesi- tated. "Only imagine what life must be for us, Madaline, if we part. You would perhaps go on living with the duch- ess all your life—for, in spite of your coyness and your fear, I believe you love me so well, darling, that, unless you marry me, you will marry no one —you would drag on a weary, tried, sad, unhappy existence, that woui& not have in it one gleam of comfort." "It is true," she said, slowly. "Of course it is true. And what would 'become of me? The sun would have no more brightness for me; the• world would be as a desert; the light would die from my life. Oh, Madaline, make me happy by loving me!" I do love you," she said, unguard- edThen why not be my wife?" She drew back trembling, her facet pale as death. "Why not be my wife?" he repeat- ed. "It is for your own skke," she said. "Clan you not see! Do you not under- -- stand?" "For my sake. Then I shall treat you as a vanquished kingdom—I shalt take possession of you. my darling, my lave r Bending down, he kissed her face -- and this time she made ne resistance to his sovereign will. • .e "Now," said Lord Arieigh, trium- phantly, "you are my very own, no- thing can separate us—that kiss seals our betrothal; you must forget all doubts, all fears, all hesitation, and only say to yournelf that you are mine—all mine. Will you be happy, Madaline?" She raised her eyes to his, her fete, bedewed 'with happy tears. "I should be most ungrateful if I were not happy," she replied; "you aro so good to me, Lord Arleigh." "You must not call me 'Lord Ar- leigh'—say 'Norman.'" "Norman," she repeated, "you are - so good to ire," "I love you so well, sweet," be, re- turned. The happy eyes were raised ills his fate. "Will you tell ate," She" ski, why you love me, Norman' .• 811ta- not think whyit is . I wonder ; wonder*beatsit a*e y day.You• see girlset and time% better suited to `ycyn then r am. Why do you love and nor "What a question to aiwsVer, **wile $dYr eat I tell rvhy 1 love yb+n? 1. WA 'WO- it; n YhatMal.•is;Mr to ' he Your toot. art to,L Madeline. •1 shall be Asa eritte bet leave you again; when 1 ge. rswtree trod Verdun Royal, I shall want tte my , (To B4OOIV'Intoilflj.)r