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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-09-28, Page 7September 2i, 1916 THE WINGH,AM TIMES keif Prr r• -i� i 54.S3S "11S �!' Sn :..1c/Slia, WIFE IN NAME ONLY BY BERTHA M. CLAY v gal 1111, aeTeReEgeaS rat " T could not love then, clear, so much Lc,ver1 I not honor more." If I could be false to the dead, Madeline, I should be untrue to the living. That 1 am not so is your se- curity for my faith. If I could be false to the traditions of my race, I could be false to my Vows of love." "I can say no mnore-I can urge no more. You are a plan -wise, strong, brave. I submit." It we,, +t cruel fate. He looked round on his pictured ane.•stors. Would they have suffered, would they have sacri- ficed as much for the honor of their house as he was about to sacrifice now? Yes, lie Knew they would, for love of race nod pride of name had always been unspeakably dear to them. CHAPTF,R XX VIII. Lord Arleigh raised his head from his breast. His wife wee kneeling sobbing at his feet. "Norman," she said, in a broken voice, "I yield, I submit. You know best, dear. In, truth, 1 ant not worthy to be your wife. I urge no claim on you; but, my darling, must I leave you? You are the very light of my life, heart of my heart, soul of niy soul -must I leave you? Could I not remain here as your servant, your slave, the lowliest in ;our house - somewhere near, where I may hear the tones of your voice, the sound of your footsteps -where I may stand sometimes at the window and see you ride away ---where I may render you little attentions such as loving wives render? Oh, Norman, be merciful and grant me that at least!" "My daring, I cannot -do not tempt rue. You do not understand. I love you with a fierce, passionate love. If you were near me, I should be compelled to show that love to you every hour of the day -to treat you as my clear and honored wife. If you were near rte, I might forget y resolve and i. member only my ilitoven" • "No one should know," she whis- tbred, "that I was your wife. I should take the guise of the humblest servant in the place. No one should know, love. Oh, darling, let it be so!" She saw great drops of agony on his brow; she saw a world of pain in his eyes which alarmed her. "It cannot be," he replied, hoarse- ly. "You must urge me no more - you are torturing me." Then she rose, humbly enough, and turned away. I will say no more, Norman, Now do with me what you please." e . There was silence for at few min- utes, The sun was sinking low in the western sky, the chirp of the birds was growing faint in the trees. She raised her colorless face to his. "I submit, Norman," she said. "You have some plan to propose. Do with me just as you will." It was cruel -no crueler fate had ever fallen to a man's lot -but honor obliged him to act as he did. • He took her hand in his. "Some day, clear wife," he said, "you will understand what suffering this step has cost me." "Yes," she murmured, faintly; "I may understand in time." "While I have been sitting here," he went on, "I have been thinking it all over, and I have come to a deci- sion as to what will be best for you and for me. You are Lady Arleigh of Beechgrove - you are my wife; you shall have all the honor and respect due to your position." She shuddered, as though the words were a most cruel mockery. "You will honor," site questioned, bitterly, "the daughter of a felon?" "I will honor my wife, who has been deceived even more cruelly than myself," he replied. "Sr have thought of a plan," he contin.:ed, "which can be easily carried out. On our estate -not twenty miles from here -there is a little house called the Dower House -a house where the dowagers of the family have generally resided. ?s near Winiston, a small country t .atm. A housekeeper and two servants live...u1.- the-,liousst. .now, and_ kg, p . it file -b. Mae 1''on ieili'•be'}ial3'py 'theta, my darling, I am sure, as far as is possible. I will see that you leave everything which you need or re- quire." She listened as one who hears but dimly. "You have no objection to raise, have you, Madaline?" "No," she replied, "it matters little where I live; I only pray that my, life may be short." "Hush, my darling. You pain me." "Oh, Norman, Norman," she cried, "what will they think of me -what. will they say -your servants, your friends?" "We must not trouble about that," said Norman; "we must not pause to consider what the world will say. We must do what we think is right." He took opt his watch and looked at it. "It is eight o'clock," he said; "we shall have time to drive to Winiston to -night." There was a world of sorrowful re- proach in the blue eyes raised to his. "I understand," she said, quietly; "you do not wish that the daughter. of a felon should sleep, even for one night, under your roof," You pain me, and you pain your- self; but it is, if you will hear the truth, my poor Madaline, just as you say. E'. •n for these ancient walls I have su":1 reverence." "Since my presence dishonors them," she said, quietly, "I will. go. Heaven will judge between 'us, Nor- man. I should like to go at once. I will go to my room and prepare for the journey." He did not attempt to detain her, for he well knew that if she made another appeal to him, he could not resist the impulse to clasp her in Ms arms, and at the cost of what he thought his honor to bid her stay. She lingered before. him, beautiful, graceful sorrowful. "Is there anything more you would like to say to me?" she 'asked with sad humility. I dare not" he uttered hoarsely; "I cannot trust myself." He watched her as with slow grace- ful steps she passed down the long gallery never turning her fair face or golden head back to him, her white robes trailing on the parquetry floor. When she had reached the end, he saw her draw aside the hangings and stand for a minute looking at the pic- tured faces of the Arleighs; then she disappeared, and he was left alone. He buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly. 'I could curse the woman who has wrought this misery r he exclaimed, presently. And then the remembrance of Phi- lippa, as he had known her years be- fore -Philippa as a child, Philippa, his mother's favorite -restrained him. "Perhaps I, too, was to blame," he thought; "she would not have taken such cruel vengeance had I been more candid." •x/;t1�1�,,, Fr : ; r�� =" 9g'���,. c�'1�6iie]i Mad «a Lit enpl esFasteeing Sores ED E'J ' A C When the blond gets bad, boils, fiimples and festering sores aro sure to break out on the face and body. To get .sid of them than biome,, iould be dealt -ad by Burdock Blood Bitters. 'Mrs. Charles Jewell, Orrvilte, Ont., writes: "I feel it my duty to write rents: tell you about what Bardock Blo.r1 Bitters has done for rte. l was eo pale Iliad iio color at all. I also lead pita, lor .and festering sores on my face, Ludt nay licao ached nearly all the time. I Led been reading in the pater, and saw: tweet I3uttloek Blood hitters tray chive to, Syed Mutate so T inert a Pottle veil before i' tees half done I felt flue, and when the bottle eves finished T felt litre a new we- str".u. I tell all my ft renals id 'nut it. nee, e1d'e t•vcryorle suffering f,uni sac," trcit".tie to use 11.13.13." 'ea «c' if; only tli e:A.11.'p. 'lariat le the 1re,rt 1 e. ,! .,. ere. . r' Lae a_ Y.• res••, ..-,,, eeee e:.., * * * * * * Lady Arleigh went to her room. The pretty traveling -costume lay where she had left it; the housekeeper had not put away anything. Hastily tak- ing off her white dress and removing the jewels from her neck, and the flowers from her hair, Madaline plac- ed them aside, and then having at- tired herself for the journey, she went down -stairs, meeting no one. Some little surprise was created amongst the servants when orders cane for the carriage to be got ready. "Going out, at this time of night. What can it mean?" asked one of them. "They are going to the Dower House," answered a groom. "Ali, then his lordship and her ladyship will not remain at the Ab- bey ! How strange! But there --rich people seem to have nothing to d hut indulge in whims and caprices!" said the under -housemaid, who was immediately frowned down by her superiors in office. Not a word was spoken by husband and• wife as Lady Arleigh took her seat in the carriage! Whatever she felt was buried in her own breast. Her face shone marble white under- neath her veil, and her eyes were bent downward. Never a word did she speak as the carriage drove slowly through the park, where the dews were failing and the stars were bright. Oneo her husband turned to her and tried to take. her hand in his, but shedrew back. "It will be better not to talk, Nor- man," she said. "I can bear it best hi silence." So they drove on in unbroken quiet- ude. The dew lay glistening on the grass and trees; all nature was hush- ed, tranquil, sweet, and still. It was surely the strangest drive that hus- band and wife had ever taken togeth- er. " More than onee, noting the silent, - raceful figure,Lord Arleigh was tempted to ask Madeline to fly with Ititn to some foreign land, where they could live and die unknown --more than once he was tempted to kiss the beautiful lips and say to her. Mada- line; you shall not leave me"; but the dishonor attaehing to his name caused hint to remain silent. They had a rapid drive, and reach- ed. Williston House ---as it was gener- ally ealled- before eleven. Great was the surprise and consternation s;, l o ed by so uneapected an arrival. T house was in charge of ,a widow Whose husband Hail been the late lord's steward. She looked somewhat dub- iously at Lord Arleigh, and then at limos e "-w?:r.'ti o1L .1.:.L:"'ut � e Le.7. S'iii0D' ' Ta'Ia'ITinl " n-6"Vel °Ve l ine-ere/Ms. Lord Arleigh was strangely pale and confused. "Mrs. Burton," he said, "I can hardly imagine that you have heard of my nlarrlage. This is my wife - Lady Arleigh." All the woman's doubt and hesita- tion vanished. She was all at- tention; but Lord Arleigh inwardly loathed his fate when he found him- self compelled to offer explanations that he would have given the world to avoid. "I am not going to remain here myself," he said, in answer to the in- quiries abort rooms and refreshments. "Lady Arleigh will live at Winiston House altogether; and, as you have always served the family faithfully and well, I should like you to remain in her service." The woman looked up at him in such utter bewilderment and surprise that he felt somewhat afraid of what she might say; he therefore hastened to add: "Family matters that concern no one but ourselves compel me to make this arrangement. Lady , Arleigh will be mistress now;of Winston House. She will have a staff of servants here. You can please yourself about remain- ing -either as housekeeper or not - just as you like." "0f course. my lord, I shall be only too thankful to remain; but it seems so very strange—" Lord Arleigh held up his hand. "Hush!" he said. "A well-trained servant finds nothing strange." The woman took the hint and re- tired. Lord Arleigh turned to say farewoll to his wife. He found her standing, white and tearless, by the window. "Oh, my darling," he cried, "we now must part! Yet how can I leave you -so sad, so silent. so despairing? Speak to me, my own love -one word -just one word." Her woman's heart, so quick . to pity, was touched by his prayer. She smiled as sad, as sweet a smile as ever was seen on woman's lips. "I shall be better in time, Nor- man." she said, "and shall not al- ways be sad." "There are some business arrange- ments which must be made," he con- tinued hurriedly -"but it will be bet- ter for us not to meet again just yet, Madaline-I could not bear it. I will see that all is arranged for your com- fort. You must have every luxury anda-o „ "Luxury!" !" she repeated, mockingly. "Why, I would rather be the sorriest beggar that ever breathed than be myself. Luxury! You mock mo, Lord Arleigh." "You will be less bitter against me in time, my darling," he said. 'I mean just what I say -that you shall have everything this world can give you—" Except love and happiness," she interposed. "Love you have, sweet; you have mine -the fervent, true, honest, deep love of my heart and soul. Happi- ness comes in time to all who do their duty. Think of Carlyle's words -'Say unto all kinds of happiness, "I can do without thee" -with self-re- nunciation life begins'." "Carlyle had no such fate as mine in his thoughts," she said, "when he wrote that. But, Lord Arleigh, I do not wish to complain. I ant sorry that I have interrupted you. I have accepted my fate. Say all you wish -I will be silent." "I have only to add, my darling, that if money, luxury, comfort can give you happiness, you shall have them all. You shall have respect and honor, too, for I will take caro that the whole world knows that this sep- aration arises from no fault of yours. Promise me. darling wife --oh, Heaven help me, how hard it is -promise ole. when the first smart of the pain is over, that you will try to be hefty." She bent her head, but spoke no word. "Promise me, too, Madaline, that, if sickness and sorrow should comp toyou, you will send for ole at once." "I promise, she said. "A few words more, and I have done. Tell me what course you wish me to pursue toward the duchess." "I have no wish in the matter," slie replied, directly. "She was kind to one once; for the sake of that kind- ness I forgive her. She forgot all that I must suffer in her wish to pun- ish you. I shall leave her to Heav- en." "And I," he said, "will do the same; voluntarily I will never see her or epeak to her again." There remained for him only to say farewell. He took her little white hand; it was cold as death. "Farewell, my love," he said - "farewell !" He )tissed her ince with slow, sweet roverence, as he would have kissed the free of a dead women whom he loved; and then ho was gone. Like one in a dream, site heard the wheels of the carriage rolling away. She stretched out her hands with a faint cry. "Norman ---sty husband -my love 1" she called; but from the deep silence of tho night there carne no response. Ho was gone. Madaline passed the night in w•atch- iiig the silent shies. Mrs. Burton, after providing on that was needful, had retired nuiekly to rest. She did not think it "good manners" to in- trudo upon hor ladysship. All night • Madaline watched the stars, and during the course of that itionete. the beet pelt ..,. tor, F Heart Pal stated would Hoye to Sit Up in lied. Fgt,T AS IF SMOTHERING, Mrs, Pt•ancis Madore, Alma, P.E.L. writes; "My heart was in such a bad condition I could not stand any excite- ment, and at times when I would be talking my heart would palpitate so that I would feel like falling. At night, when I would go to bed and be lying •down for a while, I would have to sit up for ten or fifteen minutes, as I would feel as though I was smothering. I read in the daily paper of a lady who had been in the same condition as I was, and was cured by using Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills, so I bought a box. and they did me so much good, my husband got another, and before I had used half of the second bex I was completely cured. I feel as though I can never say enough in favor of your Heart and Nerve Pills." Milburn's heart and Nerve Pills are composed of the very best heat real nerve torics and stimulant.; known to medical science, and are for salt at all dealers, or will be mailed direct by The T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. Pme , i,J cents per box, or 3 boxes for $1.23 y r th, 1`.ive none.' iaipl,:nets. Sf.laui thoughts canoe to her-tltouglits that site could hardly couture. Why ;vile elle ea cruelly punished.? What had she done? She had read of wicked lives that lead .tet with terrible end- ings. Site had real of sinful men and wicked women twhoee crimes, evert in this world, had been .wet bitterly punished. :,lie had real of curses following sin. nut %chat had she done? No woman's lot surely had ever been so bitter. She could not un- derstand it, while the twenian wl•o had loved her husband, who had practiced fraud and deceit, and lied, event unpunished. Yet her case was hardly that, for did not Norman love her? Daughter of a felon as slue Madaline-w•11t-- poor, lowly, obscure, he had given her his heart, although he could never slake her the mistress of his home. There was some compensation for hu- man suffering, some equality in the human lot, after all. She would be resigned. There were lots in life far worse titan iters. What if she had learned to love Norman, and he had never cared for her? What if site had learned to love him, and iaad found hint lees noble than lie was? What if, in the bitterness of his dis- appointment and passion, he had vented his anger upon her! After all, she could not but admire his sense of honor, his respect for his name, his devotion to his race; she could not find fault with his conduct, although it had cost her so dear. "I think," she admitted to herself, "that in his place I should have done the same thing. If my par'ent's crime had brought sorrow and disgrace en mo, who have no name, no fame, no glory of race to keep'up; what must it have brought to him? In his place I should have done as he has done." Then, atter a time, she clasped her hands. "I will submit," she said. "I will leave my fate to Providence." When morning dawned she went to her room; she slid not wish the house- hold to know that she had sat up and watched the night throw Once out of the house, Lord Ar- leigh seemed to realize for the first time what had happened; with a ges- ture of despair he threw himself back in the carriage. The footman carne to shim. "Where to, my lord - to Beech - grove?" "No," replied Lord Arleigh-"to the railway station. I want to catch the night -mail for London." Lord Arleigh was just in time for the train. The footman caught a glimpse of his master's face as the train went off -it was white and rigid. "Of all the weddings in this world, well, this is the queerest?" he ex- claimed to himself. When he reacher) Beechgrove he nay;, f;ftir c.tangeit'`iier tarri,aiy;'iier face had lost its bloom., the light had died from her dark eyes, there were great lines of pain round her' lips. She sat with her hands folded list- lessly, her eyes, full of dreamy sor- row, fixed on the moving foliage of the woods. Presently Lady Peters entered, with an open newspaper in her hand. "Philippa, my dear," she said, "I am very uncomfortable. Should you think this paragraph refers to Lord Arloigh? It seems to do so -yet I cannot believe it." The deadly pallor that was always the sign of great emotion with tiro duchess spread now even to her lips. "What does it say?"'she asked, Lady Peters held the paper out to her; but her •hands trembled so that she could not take it. "I cannot read it," she said, wear- ily. "Read it to me." And then Lady Peters read: "Scandal In High Life. -Some strange redelations are shortly ex- pected in aristocratic circles. A days since, a noble lord bearing one of the most ancient titles in England was married. The marriage took place under circumstances of great mystery; and the mystery has been increased by the separation of bride and bridegroom on their wedding -day. What has led to this separation is at present a secret, but it is expected that in a few days all particulars will be known. At present the affair is causing a great sensation." A fashionable paper which indulg• ed largely in personalities also had a telling article on Lord Arleigh's mar- riage. No names were mentioned, but the references were unmistakable. A private marriage, followed by a separation on the same day, was con- sidered a fair mark for scandal. This also Lady Peters real, and the duch- ess listened with white trembling lips. "It must refer to Lord Arleigh," said Lady Peters. "It cannot," was the rejoinder. "Ho was tar too deeply in love with his fair -faced bride to leave her." "I never did quite approve of that nlarrlage," observed Lady Peters. "The scandal cannot be about him," declared the cluche:Ss. "We should have heard if there had been any- triug wrong." The next day a letter was handed to her. She recognized the handwrit- ing -it was Lord Arleigh's. She laid the note clown, not daring to read it before Lndy Peters. What had he to say to her? When 5111 ,'mono she opened it, "You will Le pleased to hear, duch- ess. that your scheme has entirely succeeded. You have made two inno- cent people who have never harmed you as wretched as it is possible for human beings to be. In no respect has your vengeance failed. I -your old friend, playmate, brother, the son of your mother's dearest friend -have been made miserable for life. Your revenge was well chosen. You knew that, however dearly I might worship leIndalinc. my wife, however much I might love her. site could never be mistress of Beechgrove, she could nev- er be the .anther of my children; you knew that, and therefore I say your revenge was admirably chosen. It twee useless to comment on your wick- edness; or to express the contempt I feel for the woman who could de- liberately plan such evil and distress. I must say this, however: All friend- ship end acquaintance between us is at an end. l'ou will be to me henceforward an entire stranger. I could retaliate. I could write and tell your husband, who is a man of honor, "f the unworthy deed you have dune; but I shall not do that - it would be unmanly. Before my dear wife and I parted, we agreed that the punishment of your sin should be left. to Heaven. So I leave it. To a women unworthy enough to plan such a piece of baseness, it will be satis- faction sufficient to know that her scheme has succeeded. Note the words 'my wife and I parted' -part- ed, never, perhaps, to meet again. She lies all my love, all my heart, all my unutterable respect and deep told his fellow -servants what had hap- devotion; but, as you know, she can pened, and many were the comments never ba mistress "f my house. May offered about the marriage that was Heaven forgive yr ou! Arleigh." yet no marriage - the the wedding thaant was no weddinghusband wife that were so many miles apart. What could it mean? She could Mem borne with his let- ter if it had been filled with the wild- est inveetivoe-if he haul reproached her. even cursed her; his dignified forbearance, has simple acceptance of CHAPTER 1X11. , tire. %wrong she had clone him, she could not tolerate. Three days after Lord Arieigh's i She hid doer the letter. It las most inauapteious marriage, the i all over now- t -h. love for which si Duchess of Hazlewood sat in her , would 'ewe given her life, the friend- ylyrtt,Iving:oogm Itlsne. Those three ship that had once been so true, the vengeance that had been so carefully planned. She had lost his love, his -----"---.-.___.. friendship, his esteem. She could see hint no more. He despised her. There carne to her e vision of what • she might have been to him had things been different -his friend. ad- visor, c,:unsellnr-tho woman upon whom lie would have looked ae the friend of his chosen wife --the woman 1 whom, after her, lie loved beat --his sister, his truest confidante. Ail this She )night have been but for her ! revenyre. She had forfeited it all now. 1 Her lite would be spent as though he dill not exist; and there was re en' but herself to hlntne. Still she had had her revenge; she Smiled bitterly to herself ay she Can quickly be overcome I thought of that. She had punished 9 Y by � t eautiflll face Few -ale, cchedn ss �"�C�e ��re�. e of Constipation Children Cry for Fletchoes Tho Kind Non have Always I1oi g tt, and, z•,iiich leas been in use for ever ;300 yea's, has borne the signature of and has been undo under his perms WIal supervision, since its Infancy. e erLeCsrn: U Alines' nooneto deceive you in this. All Counterfeits, Imitations and "Just -as -good" are buj ` Experiments that trifle with anti endanger the health of Infants and Children -Experience against Experiment. f What. i TRIA Castori:a, is a`L harmless substitute der Castor Gill, Pare. Boric, Drops and Soothing Syrups. It is pleasant. >[t contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotics ,substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys "Worms and. allays Feverishness. For more than thirty years it leas 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'e Panacea -The Mother's Friend. OEN#.1P EC STO T IA ALWAYS . Bears the Signature of ' 1; Thetin Use For Over 30 Years Kind You Have Always Bought THE CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY. niva1 gid the matter to "beet Inter- pretation we can." So she escaped; and no one ever associated the Ductless of Hazlewood with Lord Arleigh's strange marriage. She knew that when her husband. returned she would have to give some: kind of explanation; but she was quite indifferent about that. Her life, she said to herself, was ended. When the duke did come home, af- ter a few pleasant weeks on the sea,• the first thing he heard was the story about Lord Arleigh. It astounded, him. His friend, Captain Austin, re- lated it to him as soon as he had landed. Whom do you say he married?" inquired the mystified duke. "Rumor said at first that it was a distant relative of yours," replied the captain, "afterward it proved to be some young lady whom he had met at a small watering -place." "What was her name? Who was she? It was no relative of mine; I have very few; I have no young fe- male relatives at all." "No -that was all a mistake: I can- not tell you how it arose. He mar- ried a lady of the name of Dornham." "Dornham !" said the puzzled noble- man. "The name is not unfamiliar to me. Dornham-ah, I remember!" He said no more, but the captain saw a grave expression come over his handsome face, and it occurred to him that some unpleasant thought oc- cupied his companion's mind. CHAPTER XXX. One of the first questions after his return. that the Duke of Hazlewood put to his wife was about Lord Ar- leigh. She looked at slim with a care- less smile. ".\m I my brother's keeper?" she 'eased. "c', rhainiy not. Philippa: but, con- sidering that Arleigh has been as a bi•Ut114'' 111 you all these year's, you meet take : nauu interest in him. Is ilii, ,tory r f his marringe trite?" "Tree?" she repeated. "Why, of course it is -perfectly true ! Do you not know whom he liar married?" "1 ant half afraid to net:- • kilt afraid to end that my au. l'i1ir 11 have, been rraliz''l " "He lege married my companion," 51aid the duchess. "I have no wish to blamehim I ill "2y nothing " -' r'eTra-'II be jealous of Tier in a fens minutes ready she has sundered an old.frieitd-' ship that I thought would last for -i ever; and now, directly you return,% you can talk of no one else." "I should like to see you jealous,' •k said the duke, who was one of thea most unsuspicious of men. She smiled; yet there came to herr a sharp, bitter memory of the night' on the balcony when she bad been, jealous of the ideal woman. the un-: known love whom Norman hacll sketched for her. The dyke, however, was pertina- cious; he could not give up the sub- ject. "You told me," he resumed, "that! she was the daughter of an old friend;' of yours named Dornham-and it! seems to Inc. Philippa, that I have some kind of remembrance of that name which is far from pleasant." With an air of resignation the duchei ess rose from her seat. "I am tired, Vere." she said, "quite; tared of the subject. Yet I ought note to be selfish. Of course the incident is all now to you -you have been awayi from all kinds of news; to us it is are old worn-out story. Lord Arleigh and! I quarreled and parted because of his marriage, so you may imagine it is; not a very attractive subject. to me."1 "Well, I will say no more about it,. but I am sincerely sorry. Philippa. Of! all our friends, I like Lord Arleigh) best; and I shall decidedly refuse toe quarrel with him. His marriage isi his own affair, not mine." "Still, you cannot make a friend ofd the man, whom I decline to know," she rejoined, hurriedly. "Certainly not, if yon place the' matter in such a light," he said,; gravely. "I shall a11ways consider it my pleasure and duty to consult you 00 such points. I will call no man my' friend whom you dislike." So, for the time, all denser was! tided over; the dui e saw that the sub-' jeet annoyed his ttife. and did note voluntarily resume it. He was tool true a gentleman to think of disease, sing with another lady what he did', not discuseewith his own wife, so that the subject wee not mentioned be-, twecn Lady Peter: and himself. Then for the fair young Duchess, of Ha'lewond began the new life which had in it no old friend. If she; repented of her vongeanre, she dice not say so. If she world fain have tint . w say 1" exclaimed Philippa. "A1-1• undone her evil deed, she never ovule "It's a great pity that he ever saw ed it. But, as time wore on, peoples her." „1,:rrvecl the duke, warmly. saw a great change in her. She gave "From all I hear, the man's life is • herself more to the gess'ties and fol- lies of the world; there were few fashions which she did not lead, few gay pur_uita in which she did not take an active part. The character of her beauty, too, seemed ehanged. She 111(1 always been bri'liant, but somewhat of a strange merest came into her fuse and man- ner; the dark eyee seemed to be al- tiny:: looking for et nae thing they could not find. Her ,rind, though charming' c ,..• variable ever, Few va xab and fasrivatin(:.t. et grew and tttlstenely. . She ii id always been, talo proud for coquetry; she remained en now. But she no tenger shunned, and avoided ill flattery and hostage; it seemed rather to please her than WIt" its cin' "I 11i ,led hits," said Pitiliptt:t, eagerly. "I refused at first to Intrn- ditrc her to him. I told hire that ),tru- denec and caution were 11 11el. "How came it about then, Philip- pa?" The duchess .shrtgged her should- ers. There is a fate. T suppose, in c one day these things. He Eats her n , when I was out of the way, and ac- cording to his own account. fell in love with her or, the spot Ile that as it may, he was determined to hurry iter." hon. The m g p S:ti<i tl�, i "It seems very• stuautt;c, ,w slot, And----grea"test chusige of utl---t it CARTELIVER R'S LITTLE and the einem: eyes shone through a 1).1;' of ITazlceoo.lcl, ) hu'ing,y. I t,aue c,f Lurgi Artrsch never ego sett LIVER vegetable bl +•. Host of tears. leave never dolmen ;him to dal any- eel. r lip.,-. He himself haat rev ;rod from -ne i am not hardened enough.",site taiin user' hefnre." ',oldie. life, the great hopes i.rmed of Purely vegetable :*,„ • i •,1 to }mo g q it earth arse , ', ; said to here ell, uh cl. nr �, d I "Tie cart never :;ay that I did not hurt were all dying may. tied i.I'O'it quite happy over an evil deo warn slim,” she remarked, careless mystery, women with car. e;1 the ;y., i rrnnethin:.' more of wickedness of hien with ntystt Bever, Cure w, nt t iy. sail, gentle interest.: thm,,e who rearm ill tU ' roti n: it ion." , P 1 mar- no testi Bitiausles 19�E2 S ,Tint it. wa: uc.l a wrt.trhed m, known hint knew Mtn tl ie ere. s She tarried skillfully all Lady Pet - ?eerie , Heard- 1 for him. Wi"llo was she, I hllilt- He did not l ct:frit to' Tice reve; s%':, iii. al's' ,1110' r,f 'i site professed entire wa i infole ' inquire •+ eche, sr / ; ,L. T have never rima le. 1 e1 :'1se'rilecl to him that. he rV:litl revert ignorance of all that luta happcnad• a,,. about 11ce." 5.11 1 mistime tine right of 111e piece where be had separated from his wife -that iii: ancient hom=e had been in sunk, nentenre desecttrted. 'Ilse mane Mott was left in charge of Mrs. Chat- tcrton. tvhn:e wor'ler tet, The new and tatrauge state of thio+' t never ceased. "Such a niatriateie'! " Nilo+ held ttpv , her hands in horror ars she th •tt,>itt Of it: Indeed, to her the event appeared; like a wedding and funeral on ilia selene Clay. She hard not a�c�cslt Lady; Arleigh 011101 yet elle never for ;eb • , „ .r 1t:?''1ta;':+.r;n°L,.....rt#w.lwr'!}.�.r...�'•;iw9 Niid-tlr5t+t tioneri3 would persist. mel to, leo urged. "You itn.v's anitv'et '°l cannot tell," She erould aflswer,1 5 - er I11?t 111Lt.:11'• 1 i dlt' #hat, a Li o.na, Co.l nittni),, glee _ t vivis G.S. muse- l nese and ledigeitiett. They do their duty. Smell Pill, Small Dere, Small Price. Geitulli° mustbeau Signature T ,c► People appealed to her es Lord Ar- lcirh's friend. They asked her: "What dotes this mean? Lord Ar- leigh wee married quietly, and sep- al ett 1i from his wife the same clay. What dn1 s it mean? "I cannot sell, hut you may rely c":\ll through this marriage " in - upon it that a roaeonable explana- terrntntted the. duleA. tion of the eircuutstattees will be " l "Lord All throe; h this marriage,' re - fort Arleigh is, , she: would reply. . rented 1us wife; and. I know no sub- Arlei c is, as we alt know, %1x1 lion le near and T know his wife." jeer that mote a b inn so mrit." T'Ieaso I ot�l3ut what eau it mean?" the 'gun- say no mote about it, Veto. 1 should like to know who the "t would really rather not diseuss the question," said the duchess; "it lay.‘ no interest for me now. Norm". and I have quarreled. In all probe - Witty eve shall nova ha friends i1,•:1111."