HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-08-31, Page 7bfferSuSSSSSSS :SSS
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August 31th, i90
THE WINGHAM TIMES
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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..
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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