HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-09-14, Page 7SSSISS.Tg• 'MST& ASSSS7SSYMISS•68WaSS
September 14, 446
TUE WINGHAIVI TIMES
WIFE IN NAME ONLY
cOS:SSSS
BY BERTHA M. CLAY
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e'rreee Tifieetr haffeldeir; -ror reasons
iny oevn, I hurried on my marriage.
os one shall lose by the hurry,
lhough"—which she knew meant a
promise of handsome bounty.
Presently the housekeeper went with
'Lady Arleigh to her room.
The grandeur and magnificence of
"U e house almost startled her. She
•telt, more like Lady Burleigh than
ewe, as she wont up the broad mar -
staircase and saw the long cor-
ridors with the multitude of rooms.
"His lordship wrote to tell me to
have all the rooms in the western
wing ready," said Mrs, Cttatterton;
hut he did not tell me why. They
are splendid rooms, my lady—large,
bright, and cheerful. They look over
'the beautiful beeches in the park,
'from which the place takes its name.
'Of course you will have what is called
'Lady Arleigh's suite,"
As she spoke Mrs. Chatterton threw
open the door, and Lady Arleigh saw
the most magnificent rooms she had
ever beheld in her life—a boudoir all
'blue silk and white lace, a spacious
sleeping -chamber daintily hung with
pink satin, a dressing -roam that was
a marvel of elegance, and a smell lib-
rary, all fitted with the greatest lux -
"This is 'the finest suite af rooms in
-the house," said the housekeeper;
-"they are always kept for the Arse of
'the mistress Of Beechgrove. Has your
"ladyship brought your maid?"
"No," replied Lady A.rleigh; "lite
'feet is I have not chosen one. The
Vencliess of Hazlewood promised to
Med one for me."
The illustrious; name pleased the
housekeeper. She had felt puzzled at
'tbe quiet marriage, and the sudden
home -earning. If the new mistress of
:Beechgrove was an intimate friend of
her Grace of Hazlewood, as her words
•eeerned to imply, then all mast be
well.
When Lady Arleigh had changed
'her traveling -dress. she went down-
stairs. Her younp nusbancl looked up
'ha a rapture of delight.
"Oh. Madeline," he said, "bow long
ha'e you been away from me? It
'Sns like a hundred hours, yet, I do
suppose that it has. been one.
And how fair you look, my love! That
-cloudy white robe suits your golden
'hair and your sweet face, which has
'the same soft, sweet expression as
'when I saw you first; and those pret-
ty shoulders of yours gleam like pen
nailed marble through the les*. No
dress could be more coquettish or
-prettier."
The wide hanging sleeves were !as -
'toned back from the shoulder with
tbuttons of pearl, leaving the white,
hounded arms bare; a bracelet of
spearls—Lady Peters' gift—was clasped
round one of them; the white lace
eras drawn round the graceful neck;
-the waves of golden hair, half loose,
'half carelessly fastened, were like a
crown on the beautiful head.
"I am proud of my wife," he said.
'1 know that no fairer Lady Arleigh
'has ever been at Beechgrove. When
we have dined, Madeline, I will take
you to the picture -gallery, and intro-
duce you to my ancestors and ances-
tresses,"
A recherche little dinner had been
hastily prepared, and was served in
the grand dining -room. Modalities
*eyes ached with the dazzle of silver
;plate, the ornaments and magnificence
eef the morn.
"Shall I ever grow accustomed to
;all this?" she asked herself. Shall
ever learn to look upon it as nay own?
am indeed bewildered."
Yeteher husband admired het per -
'feet grace and self-possession. She
*Might have been mistress of Beech -
'grove all her life for any evidence
eithe gave to the coritrary. His pride
-in her increased every moment; there
was no one like her.
"I have never really known what
"home' meant before, 'Idadeline," be
said. "Irnitedne sitting opposite to a
'beautiful vision, knowing all the ihne
"that it is your wile, My own
there is is magic in the words."
And she, in her sweet. humnitee
'wondered wiry }leaves had so feeble
Atatia_hp.y...,Igtd—vigit...s110-had. -deft/
Was Troubled With
Stomach and Liver
FOR SEVEN YEARS.
'MILBURN'S 1.'1RA-1.111E11 PILLS
CURED HER.
nvirs. Thomas Sargent, Derkeley, Ont,
-writes:
"1 lave been troubled ;with my
•ttontach and litter kr the past seven
;years: also have had constipation, cause
nag herttlathe% backathee and dizzy
-miens, and at times I would altheet Tall
Aerie. T tried all kiede itif medicine,
Without obtaining any relief. I ewe -
silenced using lefilbutreetaxa-Liver Pills,
.and they have ured me. I have recofre
molded them to many of My Mende,
.end they are all very much pleased with
the rettelts they have obtained from
their race'
Milbeeres Lei 11s 'have been
.ort the market for the past twenty-five
•
'ear, end can be proeuted lane all
'dealers.
The price is ee cents per vial, or five
',vials for *1.00.
eciee *tiler detee het *Medea; thee
Will be Mailed dirket on receipt of prim,
.by The '1', Milburn Co., Limite4, To.
Chito
tinefetninegfeette paniWonateefinie ofiMi;
noble man should be hers. Wben
dinner was ended he asked her if she
was tired,
"No," she answered, laughingly; "I
have never felt less fatigued."
"Then I should like to show you
over the house," he said—"my deer
old home. I am so proud of it, Made
line; you, understand what I mean—
pronid of its beauty, its antiprod that no shadow of disgrace lies
ever rested on it. To ethers these am
simply ancient gray walls, to me tney
represent the honor, the stainless re-
pute, the ursshadowed dignity at mv
race. People may sneer if they val,
but to me there seems nothing so sa-
cred as love of race—jealousy of v.
stainless name."
"I can understand and sympathise°
with you," she said, "although the
feeling is strange to me."
"Not quite strange, Madeline. Your
mother had a name, dear, entitled to
all respect. Now come with me, and
I will introduce you to the long line
of the Ladies Arleigh."
They went together to the picture -
gallery, and as they passed through
the hall, Madeline heaxd tbe great
clock chiming.
"Ah, Norman," she said, listening
to the chimes, "how much may hap-
pen in one day, however short the*
day may be."
CHAPTER XXV.
The picture-gaLlery was one of the
cared attractions of Beechgrove. Like
the grand old trees, it had been the
work of generations. The Arieighs had
always been great patmns of the fere
arts; many a lord of Beeehgroye had
expended what was a handsome boa,
tune in the purchase of picteres. The
gallery itself was built on a pariahs' r
principle; it went round the tare*
of the house, extending from tbe. et -
ern to the western wing ---it was wide,
lofty, well -lighted, and the pictures
were well hung. In wet weather the
ladies. of the house used it as a
promenade. It was filbed with art-
tree:ewes of all kinds, the accumula-
tions of many generations. Prom
between the crimson velvet hangings
white marble statues gleamed, copies
of the world's great maitterpieees;
there were also more modern works
of art. The floor was of the moat
exquisite Parquetry; the seats and
lounges were soft and luxurious; in
the peft,.4 windows, east and west there
stood a small fountain, and the rutile
of the water sounded like melee in
the quietude of the gallery. One pate
tion of it was devcited entirely to fam-
ily portraits. They were a wonderful
collection, perhaps one of the most
characteristic in England.
Lord Arleigh and his young wife
walked through the gallery.
'I thought Vie gallery at Verdna
Royal the fined in the world," dee
said; "it is nothing oorapared
thla"
And this," he returned, "is mall,
compared with the great European
galleries."
"They belong to nations; this be-
longs to stn bedivaluel," she said—
",here is a diftexenee."
Healing her hand in his, he led
her to the long line of fair -faced wo-
men. As she stood., the light from
the setting -sun falling on her fair
hoe and golden hair, heated to him-
self that he hita no picture in his
gallery one-half so exquielte.
"Now," he said, "let me introduce
yea 'to the ladies of my race."
At that moment the sunbeams that
had been ehining on the. well died
out suddenly. She looked up, half
laughingly.
Uzbek the ladies of your race
are frowning on nse, lionnate" she
said.
"Hardly that; if they could buttes")
dove from their frame, what a state-
conpany they would make to wel-
come your
And forthwith he proceeded to fie: -
rate their various histories.
"This resolute women." he gelds
"with firm lips and sleek*, noble
fete. laved in the tithe of the Reties;
she held this old hall against Net
font for thee -Able Weeks. until the
tdege tectss taided,, and the ettivey re-
tired ditexenfitel."
"She was a heave 'wainitite' ette
marked Lady Arleigh.
'This was a heroine," he went on,
"Lady Arleigh; else wield not
leave Lorelei when the tortible phrenti
raged there. It is supposed that Wee
Meted naming/es live; she &Weed
heat -elf to the nursing of the aick,
and *lieu all the fright and fear hwl
she Ionnd heraelf laden With
blessihat., and her *see. ,bontieed
throughout tile land. This * Leidy
Lola, ivlio in tin* idea- Alit 'Went out
unattended,. enarereL -quite abettor,
and spoke to three or four hundred
of. the roughest men in the country,
-they had eome, in the absence ot her
huabe.od to selc• and piliege the Hall .
—they roarthed back again, leavint it
untouched. This, Lady Obrigtaticeilatt
lineal descendant of Lady Netivadnie
--7the brave Lady Nethedele.."
She clung le his arta as she Stood
*1,Itstriattn," she said, udo..You'
mut that thy Portrait the wifl hang
here"
"X hope so, 14' darling, very anon"
"Bat)** eMi I have place arnonri
ell those fait and noble women," the
*eked, with sad hsitellitY; "I. whine
enteeteet heft 404elwQung to de -
erten Ment er oast?
$
in the long' years to eotne, when Son*
Lehi Arleigh brings tome hie wile i
as you have brought me, and they
stand together before my picture as
I stand before these; the young wife
Will ask, 'Who was this? and the
answer will be, 'Lady Madeline Ar-
leigh.' She will ask again, 'Who was
she?' And what will the ans-wer be?
'She was no one of .importance; she
had neither money, rank, nor aught
else.'"
He looked at the bent face near
him.
"Nay, ray darling, not so. That
Lord Arleigh will be able to answer,
`She was the flower of the race; she
was famed for her pure, gentle life
and the good example she gave to all
around her; he was beloved by rich
and poor.' That is what will be said
of you, rny Madeline,"
"Heaven make me worthy!" she
said, humbly. And then they came
to a picture that seemed to strike her.
"Norman," she said, "that face is
like the Duchess of Redwood's,"
"Do you think so, darling? Well,
there is perhaps a faint resent -
blame,"
"It Hee' in the brow and in the
chin," she said. "How beautiful the
duchess is!" she continued. "I have
often looked at her till ber face seem-
ed to dazzle me,"
"1 know some one who is far more
beautiful in my eyes," be returned.
"Nerrnan," she said, half hesitat-
ingly, "do you know one thing that X
have thought so strange?"
"No, I have not been trusted with
many of your thoughts yet," he re-
turned.
"I have wondered so often why you
never fell in love with the duchess."
"Fate had something better in
store for me," he sMd, laughing,
She looked surprised.
"You cannot mean that you really
think I am better than she is, Nor-
man?"
"I do think it, darling; ten thous-
and times better—ten thousand times
fairer in my eyes."
"Norman," she said, a sudden
gleam of memory brightening her
face; "I had almost forgotten the
duchess gave me this for you; I was
to be sure to give it to you before
the sun set on our weddingelay."
She•held out a white packet sealed
eecurely, and he took it vtonderingly.
He tore off the outer cover, and saw,
written on the envelope:
"A wedding present from Philippa,
Duchess of Haelewood, to Lord Ar-
leigh. To be read alone on his wed-
ding -day."
.1=
CHAPTER XXVI.
Lord Arleigh stated at the packet
which his wife had given him, and
again read the words that were in -
teethed on it,—"A wedding present
from Pthlippe. Ditches of Hazlewood,
toLord Arleigh. To be read alone on
his wedding day," What conk it
mean? Philippa at tinier took strange
caprices into her head. This seemed
to be one of the strangest. H. held
the letter in his hand, a strange Pre-
sentiment of evil creeping over him
Which he eould not account for. From
the envelope came the odor of a sweet
scent - which 'the duchess always us-
ed. R was .so familiar to him that
for a few minutes it brought her vi -
vials' before him; he could have fan-
cied her standing near him. Then he
remembered the strange words, "To
be read alone." What could that
mean? That the letter contained some-
thing that his young 'Wife meet not
see or hear.
tie looked at her. She had stietn-
inerly forgotten all about the packet,
and steed now, with a smile on her
thee, befeee one of the finest pictures
in the gallery, wrapt in a dream of de-
light. There could not, be anything
in the letter affecting her. Still, es
Philippa had written cto pointedly, it
would he better perhaps for him to
heed her words.
Nkfietaline, my darling," he said,
sinking on to an ottoman, "you have
taken no tea. Yon would like some.
Leave use alone here for half an }sour.
I want, to think."
She did what she had never done
vohnittorily before. She went to
and ell:taped her arras round his neck.
She bent her blushing face over his,
and the came surprised as much as
it delighted hien—she was shyly ua-
demonstrative.
"What are you going to think about,
Norman? Will it be of me?"
"Of whom else should think en
ray "reading day, if not of MY wife?"
les asked.
should bajseltme 11 your thouAtts
went anywhere elect," replied
Mada-
line. "There re 5 during tspeech, Nee-
msm. I nester thosight I should make
such a one.
"Your daring Is very deliOttul.
Madeline; let me he more of it"
She lamthed the low hapy, eon -
looted laugh that bounded Ince select-
ed musk in life tant.
'I vall dam, to asp eonaeihbag One*
Noncom. if you will piretedse net to
think it Inseelled for. I am very hap-
py, 00; &eh* Irtesbend—I love yon.
eery Youth, mid 1 thank you fdr ybter
lows."
betlar," be iitad, jrfteitig
Isteutittd, bluehing &ea "flee
Madalbse. I...understand the feminine
4045 trie0"
440 40 ieig0" 464 itftift
be regaied, laughingly. "Yea
may teeth me to tare abbe*, Jed, km
time. I do net yea"
Re *IleitiI1 wage( Cit moo km
bis hand and Ibe hdat-$11evfafte
'1ial**,
log him that the Misaitai Wee etild
united
Unable To Sleep
Or Do Any Work.
SUFFERED FROM HER NERVES.
• • .01 • • •
Mrs. Thomas Harris, 8 Corrigan St.,
Kingston, Ont„ writes; "I had been a
constant sufferer, for many years, with
my nerves, and was unable to sleep at
night, or do any work through the day.
at last decided to consult a doctor and
find out what was really the trouble.
The first one. told rete I would bave to go
under an operation before I would be
well, but I would not consent to this, One
day I took a fit of crying, and it seemed
that if anyone spoke to me I would have
to order them out of the house. I must
have been crying two hours when my
insurance agent came in. He advised me
to try a box of Milburn's Heart and
Nerve Pills, and I at once sent to the
drug store and got two boxes, and before
I had them taken I felt like a different
person. I have told others about them,
and they have told me they would not
be without them. I em very thankful I
started to take Milburn's Heart and
Nerve Pills,"
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are
50 cents per box, or 3 boxes for $1,25, at
all dealers or mailed direct on receipt
of price by The "r, Milburn Co., Limited,
Toronto, Out.
de'l shall not he long," saki Made-
line. She saw that for some reason
or other he wanted to be alone,
"You will find me here," he re-
turned. "This is a favorite nook of
mine. I shall not leave it until you
return," •
The nook was a deep bay -window
from which there was a magnificent
view of the famous beeches, Soft
Turkish cushions and velvet lounges
filled it, and near it hung one of Ti-
tian's most gorgeous pietures—a dark -
eyed woman with a ruby necklace.
The sun's declining rays falling on
the rubies, made them appear like
drops of blood. 1e was a grand pic-
ture, one that had been bought by
the lords of Beechgaove, and the pres-
et Lord Arleigh took great delight
in it.
He watched the long fold of Mada-
line's white dress, ,as she passed along
the aallery,_ and then the hangings
fell behind her. Once more he held
up the packet.
"A wedding present from Philippa,
Duchess of Hazlewood, to Lord Ar-
leigh."
Whatever mystery it contained
should be solved at once. He broke
the seal; the envelope contained a
closely -written epistle. He looked at
it in wonder. What could Philippa
have to write to him about? The let-
ter began as follows:
"A wedding present from Philippa,
Duchess of Hazlewood, to Norman,
Lord of Arleigh. You will ask what
it is? My answer is, my revenge—
well planned, patiently awaited.
"You have read the lines:
"'Heaven has no rage like love to
hatred turned,
Nor. hell a fury like a woman
scorned.'
They are true. Fire, fury, and hatred
rage now in my heart as I write this
to you. You have scorned me—this
is my revenge. I am a proud woman
—I have lowered my pride to you.
My lips have never willfully uttered
a false word; still they have lied to
you. I loved you once, Norman, and
on the day my love died I knew that
nothing could arise • from its ashes.
I loved you with a love passing that
of most women; and it was not my
fault. I was ,taught to love you—the
earliest memory of my life is having
been taught to love you.
"You temember it, too. It may
have been-' injudicious, imprudent,
foolish, yet while I was taught to
think, to read, to sing I was also
taught to eronsider myself your 'little
wife.' Hundreds of times have you
given me that name, while we walked
together as children—you with your
arnaround thy neck, I proud of being
called your little wife.'
"As a child I laved you better than
thaything else in the wide world—bet-
ter than my mother, my home, my
Mende; and my love grew with my
growth. I prided myself on my un-
broken troth to you. I earned the
repute et being cold and heartless, be-
cause I could think of tei tine but you.
No compliments pleased me, no praise
flattered me; I studied, learned, culti-
vated every gift Heaven had given
'to me—all for your sake. I thought
of no future but with you, no life but
with you, no love but for you; I
had no dreams apart from you. I
`emeee_rond _when Abet/ talked- elie-Ma
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The Wretchedness
of Constipation
c....tockly-b.onettameLy
CARTER'S LITTLE
LIVEILPILLS
Purely sogashls
—ad surely and
gently on the
fiver. Curo
Biliousness.
D.
es *01 and Indigestion. They do their duty,
Small PIII,Somall Dei, **i* hie&
Gerittiite intuit her Signatnye
ivritisseiftwomiiiiimosa
be-u;t trat 'you ehoutti Ilene fe fifer
wife delighted me.
"When you returned borne I quite
expected that you were coming to
elaim nee as your wife—I thought that
was whet brought you to England.
remember the day you came. Ali,
well, revenge helps inc to live, or
B1101,11d die! The first tones of y
voice, the first clasp of yeur hand,
first look of your eyes chilled inc w
sorrow and disappointment. Ye
hoped against bope. 1 thought
were shy, perhaps more reserved t
of yore. I thought everything
anything except that you had cea
to love me; I would have belie
anything rather than that you w
not going to fulfill our ancient c
tract, and make inc your wife. I tr
to make you tail: of old timere—y
were unwilling; you seemed confue
embarraseed; I read all those si
aright; still I hoped against hope.
tried to win you -1 tried all that lo
patienee, gentleness, and conside
tion could do. It was all in vain.
"What women bear, and yet li
on! Do you know that every mome
of that time was fill of deadly tort
to me, deadly anguish? Ah, me, t
very memory of it distresses m
'Rvery one spoke to nee as though o
engagement was a certainty arid
marriage settled. Yet to me the
came, very slowly, the awful cony
tion that you had ignored, or had 1
gotten, the old ties. I fought again
that conviction. I would not ent
tain it. Then came for me the fa
day when. I heard you tell the Duc
ess of Aytoun that you had nev
seen the woman you would care
make your wife. I heard your eo
fession, yet would not give in; I cle
to the idea of winning your lov
even after I had. hoped against hop
and tried to make you care for rre
At last came the night out on 11
balcony, when I resolved to risk a
to ask you for your love—do you r
member it? You were advocating t
cause of another; I asked you wh
did not speak for yourself, You mus
have known that my wornan's hea
was on fire—you must have seen th
my whole soul was in my speech, y
you told me in cold, well -chose
words that you had only a brother
affection for me. On that night, f
the first time, I realized the trut
that, come what might, you woul
never love me—that yon had no id
of carrying out the old contract—the
your interest in me was simply
kindly, friendly one. On that nigh
when I realized that truth, the be
ter part of me died; my love--th
love of my life—died; my hopes—th
life-long hopes—died; the best, tru
est, noblest part of me died.
"When you had gone away, when
was left alone, I fell on my knees
and swore to be revenged. I vowe
vengeance against you, no matte
what it might cost. Again let m
quote to you the lines,
our
the
ith
t
you
hen
and
sed
ved
ere
on-
ied
ors
ed,
gra
ve,
ra-
ve
nt
re
he
e!
ur
ur
re
ic-
Or-
st
er-
tal
h-
er
to
n.
ug
e,
e,
e.
11,
e -
he
y
rt
at
et
n
's
or
h
ea
t,
t0
e
d
r
e-
"'Heaven has no rage like love to
hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman
scorned.'
You scorned me. You must stiffer for
it, I swore to be revenged, but how
was I to accomplish my desire? I
could not see any way in which it
was possible for nee to make you suf-
fer, 1 could not touch your heart,
your affections, your fortune. The
only thing I could touch was your
pride. Through your pride, your
keen sensitiveness, I decided to stab
you; and I have succeeded. I recov-
ered my courage and my pride to-
gether, made you believe that all that
had passed had been a jest, and then
I told you that I was going to marry
the duke.
"I will say no more of my love or
my sorrow. I lived only for ven-
geance, but how my object was to be
effected I could not. tell. I thought
of many plans, they were all worth-
less—they could not hurt you as you
had hurt me. At last one day, quite.
accidentally, I took up 'The Lady
of Lyons,' and read it through. That
gave me an idea of what my -revenge
should be like. Do you begin to sus-
pect what this present is that the
Duchess of Harlewood intends retak-
ing to you on your wedding -day?".
As he read his face gretv pale. What
could it mean -'--this reference to "The
Lady of Lyons?" That was the story
of a deceitful marriage—surely all un-
like his own.
"You are wondering. Turn the
page and you shall read that, when
an idea once possesses a woman's
mind, she has no rest until it is =-
lied out. I had none. My vengeance
was mapper/ out for me—it merely re-
quired filling in. Let me show You
how it was filled, up—how I have lied
to you, who to another have never
uttered a false word.
"Years ago we had a maid whom
my mother liked very much. She
was gentle, well-mannered, and welt -
bred for her station in life. She left
es and went to some other part of
El:glance She married badly—a hand-
some, reekless, ne'er-do-well, who led
her a most wretched life.
"I know not, and care nothing for,
the story of her married life, her
legless and wrongs. How she beeomee
of interest to you lies in the fact
that very shortly utter my marriaga
ahecalledtoaeemeandaskmyaid.
She had been compelled to give up
her home in the country anti come
to London, where, with her husband
and child, she was living in poverty
and misery. While she was talkieg to
inc the duke came in. X think her
patient face interested him. ale lis-
tened to her story, and promised to
do sothethieg for her husband. You
will wonder how *is story of Mar-
garet Doinhaan concerns you. Read
on. You will know in time.
"My husband having prornieed to
assist this man, sent for him to the
house; and the result of that Vieth
was that. the man, seeing a quantity
of plate about, resolved upon help-
ing himself to a portion of it. To
make my story abort, he was
after having broken into the boose,
peeked up a large parcel of esel, and
filled his pockets with some of my
Most valuable jewels. There Was red
help for it but to prosecute him, and
hie Se-Menee aoM, 'under Ole then**.
etaiiee, none tee heavy, being kit
yti!rs' penal servitude,
Aftersard 1 welt to bee bids 441116
Rarga.rest, *bid Bound het in delikkite
eiteureistenteen yet she had tele GliPar
Wilt
in ber lussisc---a beattiful yeast
her daughter, so fair 01 fate
Owl 0114-1*..*Clitataltitleria..1tt *Sir
4
rage 7
osionnsommanismoon:
Children Cry for Fletcher's
The Kind You llfave Always Bought, and which. has heel%
in us for over 30 yeaks, has borne the signature of
and has been made under his per•
sonal supervision since lits infancy.
Allow no one to deceive you in this.
All Counterfeits, Imitations and " Just -as -good " are but
Experiments that trifle with and endanger the health of
Infants and Cidldren—Experienee against Experiment.
What is CASTORIA
Castoria is a harmless substitute for Castor Oil, Pare.
gorie Drops and Soothing Syrups. It is pleasant. It
contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Nareetie
substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys 'Worm
and allays Feverishness. For more than thirty years it
has been in constant use for the relief of Constipation,
Flatulency, Wind Colic, ail Teething Troubles and.
Diarrhoea. It regulates the Stomach and Bowels*
assimilates the Food, giving healthy and natural sleep.
The Children's Panacea—The Mother's Friend,
GENUINE CASTOR IA ALWAYS
Bears the Signature of
In Use For Over 30 Years
The Kind You Have Always Bought
t YR C N TRU R CORI PAW?, 44 KW YO R K C ITY.
ffeerit ee. saw ner els Thotiffir17 Wit
desoription of your ideal—eyes like
blue hyacinths and hair of gold.
Forthwith a plan entered my mind
which I have most successfully car-
ried out.
"I asked for the girl's name, and
was told that it was Madaline—an
uncommon name for one of her class
—but the mother had lived amongst
well-to-do people, and had caught
some of their ideas. I looked at the
girl—her face was fair, sweet, Imre.
I felt the power of its beauty, and
only wondered that she should be-
long to such people at all; her hands
were white and shapely- as my own,
her figure was slender and graceful.
I began to talk to her, and found
her well educated, refined, intelligent
—all, in fact, that one could wis -
"Little ,by little their story came
oat—it rue one of a mother's pride
and glory in her only child. She
worshiped her—literally worshiped
her. She had not filled the girl's
mind with any nonsensical ideas about
being a lady, but she had denied her-
self everything in order that Made-
line might be well educatet. For
many years Madeline had been what
is called a. governess -pupil in a most
excellent school. 'Let me die when
I may,' said the poor, proud mother,
'I shall leave Madeline with a for-
tune in her own hands; her educa-
tion will always be a fortune to her.'
"I asked her one day if she would
let me take Madeline home with me
for a few hours; she seemed delight,.
ed, and consented at once, I took
the girl home, and with my own hands
dressed her in one of my most be-
coming toilets. Her beauty was some-
thing marvelous. She seemed to gain
both gram and dignity in• her new
attire. Shortly afterward, with her
mother's permission, I sent her for
six months to one of the most fashion-
able schools in Paris. The change
wrought in her was magical; she
learned as much in that time as some
girls would have learned in a couple
of years. Every little grace of man-
ner seemed, to come naturally to her;
she acquired a tone that twenty years
spent in the best of society does not
come to some. Then I persuaded
Veto, my husband, to take me to
Paris for a few days, telling hirn I
wanted to see the daughter of an old
friend, who was at school there. In
telling him that 1 did not speak false-
ly—Madaline's mother had been an
old friend of mine. Then I told him
that my whim was to bring Made-
line home and make a companion of
her; he allowed inc to do just as I
pleased, asking no questions about
her parents, or anything else. I do
not believe it ever occurred to him
as strange that the name of my pro-
tegee and of the man -who had robeed
him was the siene—incleed, he seem-
ed to have forgotten all about the
robbery. So I brought Madaline home
to Vere Court, and then took her to
London, where I knew yon would see
her. My husband never asked any
questions about Iter; be made no ob-
jectiohs, no remark—everything that
I did was always well done in his
eyes.
"But you will understand clearly
that to you I told a lie when I said
that Madeline's gloater was a poor
relative of the duke's—you know now
what relationship there is between
them. Even Lady Peters does not
now Ibe teeth. She teethes that
Maclaine is the daughter of some
friend of mine who, having fallen on
evil days, has been glad to send her
to me. •
"Knowing you well, Norman, the
accomplishment of my scheme was
not diffieult. If I had brought Made-
line to you and introduced het, you
might not have been ;charmed; tbe
air of mystery About her attracted
you. My warning against yeet tar -
Mg for her would, X know, also help
to allure you. I Was tight in every
way. I saw that yore fell itt loie
with her at orete-ethe first *foment yen
saw her --and then I knew My revert
was secured,
"X tonight My husband the yeteht,
on purpose tet he enteaht go tem -
and leave toe to work asst toy &ilia
I knew that he could not resist the
temptation I offered. I knew also
that if he remained in England he
would want to know all about Maas.
line before he allowed you to marry
her. If the marriage was to take
place at all, it must be during his
absence. 'You seemed of your own
free will, Norman, to fall naturally
into the web woven for you.
"I write easily, but I found it hard
to be wicked—hard to see my lost
love, my dear old companion, drift
on to his ruin. More than once
paused, longing to save you. more
than once I drew back, longing to.
tell you all, But the spirit of revenge,
within me was stronger than myself'
—my love had turned to hate. Yet
I could not quite hate you, Norman;
—not quite. Once, when you appeal-
ed to my old friendship, when youa
told me of your plans, I almost gave
way. 'Norman!' I cried, as you were
leaving me; but when you turned'
again I was dumb.
`So I have taken my revenge. I,.
Philippa, Duchess of Hazlewood, on
this your wedding -day reveal to Tote
the first, stain on the name of Arleiglis
—ureveil the first blot on one of the
noblest escutcheons in the land. You
have married not only a low-born
girl but the daughter of a felon—a,
felon's daughter is mistress of proud'
Beechgrove! You, who scorned Phi-
lippa L'Estrange, who had the cruel-
ty to refuse the love of a woman who
loved you—you, who looked for your
ideal in the clouds, have found it
near a prison cell! The daughter or
a felon will be mistress of the grand
old house where some of the noblest
ladies of the land have ruled—the
daughter of a felon will be mother of
the heirs of Arleigh. Could I have
planned, prayed for, hoped for, long-
ed for a sweeter revenge?
"I am indifferent as to what you
may do in return. I have lived for
my revenge, and now that I have
tasted it life is indifferent to me. YOU
will, of course, write to complain to
the duke, and he, with his honest in-
dignation justly aroused, will perhaps,
refuse to see me again. I care note
my interest in life ended when my,
love died.
"Let me add one thing more. Mada-
line herself has been deceived. I
told her that you knew all her his-
tory, that I had kept nothing back
from you, and that you loved her in
spite of it, but that she was never
to mention it to you.'
He read the letter with a burtiiug
flush on his face, which afterward
grew white as with the pallor of
death f' a red mist was before his eyes,
the sound of surging waters in his
eats, his heart beet loud and fast.
Could it be true—oh, merciful heav-
ee, meld it be true? At first be had
a wild hope That it was a cruel jest
that Philippa was playing with him
on his wedding-cley. It could not.
be trne--his whole soul tose in rebel-
lion against it. Heaven was too just,
too merciful—it could not be. It
was a jest, He drew his breath with
a lozig, quivering sigh—his lips trent-
bled; it wag simply a jest 10frighten
hint on his wedding -day.
Then, one by one---slowle, sadly,
surely—a whole host of eircumstitheest
returned to his mind, making continuo, -
tion strong. Ile remembered
well—
only too well—the scene in the bal-
cony. Ile remembered the pale striae
light, the light scarf thrown over len-
lieptas shoulders, overt the very per-
fume that cart* from the -Rowers in,
her hair: he remembered bow her
voice had trembled, hew her face haa'
shored nt the faint evening lig'ht.
Whcn she bed onoted the words or
Priscil1a. the loveliest, minden of Ply -
Mouth, the hid Meant them as tip-
plicable to her own esme---"Why deo%
you speak foe lourself, „eater?" They
came batk tallith with a Some,
eound, tootling his despair. She b
love him *tough all—this Plead,
beautiful, brilliant woman for who*
thol et highest isnk had virvvet
vain. And, knowing her pride, her!
baugbnbo c1 'ms eI
what her love had eoet het„
that 414..thaS t.,".601
4:00 131C COHIJIWIlltht `.211