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The Exeter Times, 1894-8-16, Page 26414:3101" CUretiCeortumptIon, Cowles, Vroup, Sore Throat. Tidily lIereelpsts on a Guarantee. Por levee de, leag or Deost $hilolea Forces Fleeter will give great satisfactiOn.—aS ceote. SHILOH'S VITALIZgR, Xre. T. S. Dawkins, Chattanooga. 'route, say a s " Shgeh'S Maim` 'VD /WY zrrat onsiderittliebestrentedeforadebiiitatedsesten ever used." For Dispepsta, Liven Or RldueF trouble it excels. F rice -75 ets. sH ILO H'S CRA;r4T51.0 RaveyouCatarrh? Trythis Remedse positively relieve and Cure you. Price SO ots. This Injector for ite successful treatment ia eureeebee tree, Remember, Stuloh•s Remedies eee we, er euarantee tr reive satisfaction. LEGAL. H. DICKSON, Barrister, Soli. alter of Sapreme Court, Notary Pablic, Conyers neer, 0 o nem taste aer, Money to Loan: Omoetnanson'sBlook. Exeter. R B. COLLINS, Barrister, Solicitor, Convey user, Etc. METER, - ONT. OFFWE : Over O'Neil's Bank. ELLIOT & ELLIOT, Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, Conveyancers &c, 1111r 'Money to Loan at Lowest Rates or interest. OFFICE, MAIN - STREET, EXETER. B. O. ItILLIOT. 1r4EnEmoK E mica. MEDICAL 11111111.11•10 T W. BROWNING M. D., M. e P. S. Graduate Vietoria Univers ty; ;office and reeidenee, Dore.inion Labe 14 tory,Exe ter , PR.RYNDMAN, coroner for tae county of Huron. Office, opp...site Carling Brcs. store, E xeter. DrtS. ROLLLNS Se AMOS. Separate Offices. Residence same as former. Andrew st. Offices: Spaekman's bnildin Main st; Dr Rollins' same as formerly, north door; Dr.. Atnos" same building, south door, J. .&. ROLLINS, M. D., T. A. AMOS, at D. Exeter, Ont AUCTIONEERS. T EIABDY, LICENSED AU0- .1 •i• tieneer for the Cony of Huron. Charges moderate. Exeter P. 0. BOSSENBERRY, G-eneral Li. . (sensed Auctioneer. Sales conducted in allparts. Satisfactionguarenteed. Charges 2nodera.te, Hensel' P 0, Ont: EpNRY EILBER LicensedAt tioneer for the counties of Huron and Middlesex t Sales conducted at mod- erate rates. Oce, at Post -ono° Grad - ton Out. 0111111MIMMIMINOM onsmal MONEY TO LOAN. ONE/ TO LOAN AT 6 AND per cent, 525.000 Private Funds. Beet Loaning Companies represented. L.33 DICKSON ••••••••••=3•114m.... Barrister . Exeter, 31• SURVEYING. FRED W. FARNCOMB, Provincial Land Surveyor and Civil En- a-mivmmixt., Office, l'Ipstairs.Samwe ire Bleak. Exeter, Oat VETERINARY. Tennent & Tennent EXETER, oN2. cradeates of the Ontario Veterinary ace. fere. OPFIGIE : One door South ofTown Hall, THE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCI EC 0 . Established in 1863. HEAD OFFICE - WATERLOO,ONT. This Company has been over Twentv-eigh years in successful oper ition in 1Vestern Ontario, and continues to insure against loss or damage by Fire, Buildings, ,Jlerchandise Manufactories and all other descriptions of insurable property. Intending insurers have the option of insuring on the Premium No to or Cash System. During the past ten years this company has issued 57,091i Policies, covering property to the araount of 540,872.038; and paid in losses alone $709,752.00. Assets, 4176,100.00, &insisting of Cash in Bank Government Depos i t and the.unasses- sed Premium Notes on hand and in force j.W.Whrioux, M.D.. President; 0. M. Teveog Secretary ; J. B. Hamm, Inspector . C11A3 SNELL, Agent for Exeter and vicinity The Molsons Bank (CHARTERED BE PARLIAMENT, Irmo paid:up Capital .,„ 82,00,000 Bost Fund 1,000,00 HeadOffice , Montreal , F, wOLBERSTAN TTIOMASe_.Ese., GE ern nee eieeeecesn. Mone y advanced to good farraereon theirown tote with one or more endorser at 7 per eent perannum. Exeter Branch, Open eeerylavrful day , f rora 10 a. ns. se S 5ATURDAYS,10 a.m. to 1 p.m, Currentratee of intereat allowed on deeosi „N. DYER HURDON, Sub -Manager. 7.1.8.0.11.0.01.7011.1120.....~1.111011111.1108.11411111111.11•Manas, POWDERS • Cure SICK HEADACHE and Netwalgie iix ,* twrawrzs, also Coated Tongue, Dizzi. ress,pilionsovse, Pain•fn the Side, ConsitpatiOn, Torpid Liver, Bee Breath, to etay cured also regulate the boweis. mewls Alma5a TAFtfla Ontos 26 Celurs Ar tmool sronzo. APPLEDORE FARM, OIXAPTIM XXX, "Let mo two how foot you eau rune" she eald. "I will came Presently." Watty went off ae full speed, and eeelug this Reginald Bevingtoti mended his pace And game direaly toward Ruth. She held up he henin warning as she stood watoh- ing the child, and the young man went clewn toward the sand and flung himself on the beach. Watty stopped when he was half -way acroes the meadow and looked Intuit ; he waved his cap and Ruth nodded and kissed her hand, tend the child started afresh. He was goon a email bleck ape,* flying across the green meadow. When Watty wee out of sight Ruth tureed and came dowi the beaoh toward Bevington. His eyes had not left her ; he had been studying every lino of her figure, and the outline a her lovely face, as she stood side- ways against the full light looking after the boy. Reginald Bevington had finally determin- ed that he would avoid Mrs. Clifford. There was no use, he thought, in exposing himself to such a trial, If he had been asked he could not have said why he was here to -day. A, sudden impulse had seized him; he had felt that he must see Ruth, and he started for Appledore without regard to the consequences. It may be that a letter received the day before from Lady Emily, in which she asked him for news of his beautiful friend, had helped to rekindle his passion. He had just returned from abroad, and he found Bevington intolerably dull. It is certain that the shook of discovering that the Byrants no longer possessed Apple - dere, and that even John Bard was uncer- tain as to where they had gone, had greatly excited him, The longing to find himself once more beside Ruth became irresistible, and now that he saw her, lovelier, more blooming than ever, he could not, realize that there was any barrier between them. He sprang up from the shingle and. came toward her, smiling and holding out his hand. The girl was surprised; she had expected • an angry outburst to begin with. His smile reassured her ' • she shook hands with him in silence, anddrew her fingers gently from the warm clasp in which he tried to hold there. " We may be friends still, I hope," he said. She smiled faintly; the pain at her heart was almost more than she could bear. Till she saw him she had lately been trying to believe that her love was dead and buried, levelled out of existence by the monotony which had lulled thought to sleep, as much as by her resolution not to wrong Mich- ael by thinking about his rival. Now she felt lifted off her feet with wild joy at sight of the face she had so dearly loved. "Are you angry with me, Ruth?" he -went on tenderly. "You must forgive me —indeed you must Surely you will not refuse me your friendship? I only ask for that. Surely even your husband will allow you to see an old friend ?" She flushed so deeply red that he was puzzled. He waited silently for her to explain. "I have no husband, she said sadly. I went to church with Mr. Clifford, and I bear his name; but he is nothing to me. He would not have me for his wife because —because—he knows about you." "How can he know?" he said impetuous- ly. "I told him ; it was his righb to know." He stood looking at her in surprise. "Why did you tell him It was so un. necessary, so wounding I" Ruth stared at him in surprise. "I do not understand you." "I mean, dear girl, that when you have mixed a little more with the world you will learn the truth of the saying, that 'What the eye does not see the heart does nob feel.' I mean that it is quite unnecessary for a husband or a wife to confide all their friendships to one another. If I had mar- ried this spring I should not have spoken of you to my wife; you know that I did not even tell you I was engaged. Besides, our case is special. No marriage can inter- fere with a true friendship like ours, dear girl." He took a step forward, but Ruth moved away • her words had so fired his love that he could hardly keep it within bounds, and his face betrayed him. "You are bound to be kind to me," he said, in his sweet, low tone; it thrilled through the girl and made her tremble ; "and I will tell you why. ]for your sake, because I would not give up loving you, I have lost my promised wife and the fortune she was to bring me. I am as free,dearest' as I was in those happy days at Appledore. You ought at least to make up to roe for that loss, sweet one. Besides, it removes your scruples ; I am all your own." Ruth murmured something, but she did not know what she said. She had made so sure that sheand Reginald Bevington were finally parteci that surprise and unreadiness mastered her. There was something, too, stronger than either surprise or unreadiness —something than flushed her face and glow- ed in her eyes as they met her lover's. It was all in vain she felt that she had turn- ed from the thought of him, that she had tried to believe he meant evil rather than good toward her ; the love she saw in his eyes was fast unioing all her resolutions. She had been allowing her thoughts to drift as they pleased in these weeks of idle dreaming by the sea, and the process had not strengthened her moral tone. She had wilfully ignored the power of her love, ha.d carelessly glossed it over, instead of striving to uproot it ; and now she was powerless—it had its way. As her eyes met Reginald's she saw that they swam with tenderness. He came still nearer and tried to put his arm round her. She drew back instantly. "If you have so little respect for me must leave you," she said sadly. You for. get that this place is not private.' "Pardon me I I deserve reproof, but I forgot everything but you. You may trust me, my own Ruth; you are mine; you cannot say you have left off loving me." She was silent. "I will be so patient," he wane on. "so very patient. I will do anything you ask ; but, dear friend, you will let me come and see you? You own that your husband has deserted you, Truly, hit marriage was the trick of the deg in the manger! Why did he take you if he does not value you? Bub for,hitn you could be mine absolutely. How do you know, my Ruth, that ehis Clifford hart not a dearer friend somewhere, whose oodety he prefer e to yours ?" Ruth hung her heed. She know it was ha fault thet her companion dared to speak in this way of Michael; ehe need not have told. Mr. Bevington her present position. It flashed upon her that her husband's name might have preyed a. shield in her present position if she had not been so foolishly 'candid. She reddened wieh a guilty con- sciousness that he had made thiS avowal for Reginaldee eake, to relieve him from the pain of believiug her uufeithful to him. He mieunelerstood her alenee, "le is ea, thee. 1 iy 'level how aerecl he come between ma Row dared he merry yen, my eveeet Ruth 2" The words eeemed to pieroo into her brain, and to let freah light on ha troubled thoughts. She no louger saw the flushed face of her handsome yeureg lover ;she saw in hie place her husband, stern and powerful, as he had looked when he steed towering weer her and asked her how he had dared to marry him. What a coward elle was, knowing ell the blame to be duly hers, to let any of it light on Michael "Nu," she said, firmly, "my husband is not capable of such conduct. He loved nie dearly, but he has a right to be offeuded ; he knows I do nob leve hit." Bevington angrily interrupted her. "Noneense 1 As if you were fit to marry such a person! I can understand that you married him for your father's sake, in the same way 1 was going to marry to please my mother. On the whole, 1 thank Mr. Clifford for the pattern he has set me. I assure you I am not above following it. I shall never give you up. You are dearer to me than a wife can ever be. Come dear. est, let us go and see your father, I long to shake hands again with the kind old man." He had spoken impetuously. Carried out of himself by the force of his passion, he had let his words come at will, He caught Ruth's bend as he ended, and held it so tightly that she could not draw it away without a struggle. She was so dizzied and bewildered that she was even glad to be guided up the steep layers of shingle • but the delighb that thrilled through' her veins at his touch was a true warning. Every beating pulse told her how she still loved her companion, and how urgent it was that she should keep her promise to her husband. She felt that she must send Mr. Bevington away-, end the sooner the better, if she meant to keep her word. She had become lazy and listless while she sat day after day gazing at the sea. She was indeed demoralized ; but a few weeks will not undo the teaching of a lifetime, and Ruth's mother had lived long enough to teach her child. how to find help to do her duty in this sore strait. When they reached the border of the meadow the girl' drew her hand swiftly from her companion's grasp and uttered a brief unspoken prayer. " Lead me not into temptation," she said silently, and though the words seemed formai and lifeless the very effort to seek stronger help than her own nerved her against her weakness. She turned to Mr. Bevington. " You must leave me," she said with a decision that surprised him. "1 promised that I would not willingly see you, and you must help me to keep my word. Go away now, and do not try to aee me again." "1 cannot go away, and you muse not ask me to make such a promise. I have kept true to you; you confess that your marriage was a sham. Why, then, can we not be friends? See I do not even ask to kiss your hand. Why do you wish to de- prive me of the exquisite joy of seeing you now and then 1 It would be such a comfort to tell you my troubles. You forget that you are my only real friend." While she stood listening Ruth's heart pleaded powerfully in his favor. Her. eyes were fixed on the grass, and she mechanical. ly counted the plantain heads that grew near her feet. Once more the remembrance of her husband's strong, honest face came to help her. She had told him she would have nothing to do with Reginald Belying. ton; how could she then break a promise? Whatever it might cost her she was bound to send this dearly loved friend away from her, and to refuse to see him agaiu. She looked up at last, sad but deter- mined. "Let us say good -by here," she said. "1 believe you care for me. If you do you must wish me to do right; it must be wrong for us to meet at present." "Why must it be wrong ?" he asked vehemently. "Just because you have gone through an empty form with a man you do not love, who will never be anything more to you than a mere acquaintance? Ib is a mere fancy of duty that possesses you, and it is utterly unreal, a thorough mistake. You shall not sacrifice our lives to it," He paused; then he said quietly: "Be patient, my darling ! Take time to think 1 I will go now, but I will call and see your father, and then, dearest Ruth, we will have another talk. Good-bye sweet friend 1" He raised his hat and left her, the more readily because he saw the little boy com- ing across the field from the cottage follow. ed by a staid -looking woman. " It's all right, dear ; I may come to tea," the child shouted ; but Ruth hurried across the meadow, passing him with a nod, while Mre. Rimell, who had come out with Watty and now turned homeward again, kept her eyes keenly fixed on her lodger'e flushed face. The landlady was sorely disturbed; she had leb these lodgings for years past, but her visitors had always been highly respectable. Now, as she watched Mrs. Clifford, she told herself that she had always misdoubted her. She was too beautiful to be left alone in this way by a newly -married husband, unless there was a reason for it ; and the landlady thought that this handsome fashionable young man was a more than sufficient reason for a husband's jealousy. Mrs. Rimell had always been poor, but a strong sense of what she called "gentility" had kept her from making acquaintances. She had seen scarcely anything of life or of people; she was therefote suspicious, apt to see wrong -doing in anything that differed from her own small sphere of experience, and was extremely narrow in her judg- ments. She at once decided that this beautiful Mrs. Clifford was not what she should be," or what her husband thought she wee; and Mrs. Rimell wiehed she had never come under her roof, though she did pay so regularly. The landlady gave an involuntary sigh, and Ruth turned. and looked at her. The keen suspicion in the woman's face alarmed the girl ; for a moment she felt tempted to justify heraelf and then she saw that explanation was quite uncalled for. Philip Bryant looked excited when hit daughter mime ; his lips quivered at the Sight of Ruth, 'Who is it, my girl he mid eagerly, "Your little chap came in, and said there was a gentleman on the beach and you had stayed with him. Was it Michael, dear ?" Rtith felt etunned ; it had not °oared to her that Wetter would go in and gee her father. " That youngster'e a spreek little chap," her faehet went on. "kTh came in to see you with a incasing° from hie uncle, and when. I said he would find you on the beach he nodded, 'Is she there still l" he said, 'She was there With a gentlerniteiP' " wart 11Ot Michael," elm said slowly, waa Mr, Bevington .; bo *ante tee call end. Bee yon." Byrant smiled with pleasure. '4 I take that to be exceedingly kind of Bevington," lie said. "1 shall be very glad to see him, Bet he was always e Perfeot gentleman, Ruth—not one of your tneke-believee, J1e wee as free Wibh LIP tnoney as he was pleesaut, I'm sure shall be right down glad to see hive Did you ask him to supper, my girl ?" Ruth laughed in a hard, forced way. It struck her as grotesque, this notion of asking her lover to sup under the roof which her husband had provided for her. "I am not ante whether he will call to. day or teenorrow ; then' in a firmer tove, " but, father, we couldnot ask Mr. Bev- ington to come and see as 1Vliahael would netlike it." Her father leaned back in his chair and etared at her with an amused expression in his still handsome brown eyes, "My dear girl," he said deprecatingly, "isn't that absurd? You women take fads into your heads—even a good. woman like you, Ruth." She shivered and shrank into herself. "Don't call me good, father ! Please don't 1" she ()halted heraelf ; since his illness she dared. not opeak about anything° to her father that might trouble him when he was left alone. "Well, .my girl," he said fondly. "if you're not good I'd like to see a better. What I meant was that Miohael was always partial to the young gentleman. Besides that, do you suppose, that'y ou oan do wrong in Michael's eyes ?" ee"I'll go and take off ray het." Her father looked at her in surprise, she so rarely spoke abruptly to him ; but Ruth hurried at once to her bedrootn. She so longed for sympathy and help that she had nearly told him in how sore a strait she found herself. If only her mother had been apared to her ! .She stood in her room, her hands clasped round the post of the old-fashioned bed- otead, her head pressed against it; and then, with the longing for her mother, came a vivid remembrance of her mother's teach- ings. The unhappy girl became conscious that she was not left alone; she semed to know that there was help for her if she would only seek it. She stood with bent heed and clasped hands, while every in- stant the conviction took more complete possession of her will. Then slowly, rever- ently, she knelt down and prayed with all her heart and soul that God would save her from herself and from her sinful love. CHAPTER, XXXI. Ruth had never been to school, and she had read few novels. She had not had one intimate girl friend except Peggy Whishaw. She may also have been helped by the masculine tone of her education. Certainly she had net spent her girlhood in dreaming of a possible husband. She had led such a healthy, happy life that she had no tendency to morbid ideas. She had thought of love and of marriage in a healthy natural fashion, as facts that would probab. ly come into her life. Ib was doubtless this absenee of self-consciousness that had at first made her so blind, to the nature of her own feelings for Reginald Bevington. His singular charm of manner, the com- plete constrast he afforded to any one she had ever known, had fascinated the fresh, simple-na,tured girl. Before she se.w Mr. Bevington, when she sometimes thought of a husband, Ruth had decided that she must marry a man of strong character. She knew her own tendency to self-will, and she longed for a guide. She had mourned her grandfather almost as muoh for the real loss she experienced in his self- reliance and hisability to advise, as from the love she had for him. Her devoted love for her father had never allowed her to become fully aware of his weakness of character. They had been more like brother and sister than father and daughter. When of late circumstances had forced this weak- ness on her notice she reminded herself that he had told her her mother was the first good influence that had come into his life. Rath always shrank from judging others, and she also troubled herself very little as to what others might think of her, She had looked ap to Reginald Bevington. His outward superiority had so impressed her that in the generous faith of her nature she had believed it to be thorough. She had hoped he would help her father by his ad- vice. His request for secrecy before he left Appledore had been a blow to her con& dence, but she reflected that he had his own parents to study, and he did not, she told herself, know her father as well as she did, and could not therefore be expected to put full trust in Philip Bryant' s silence. It seemed to her now as she prepared to rejoin her father that she had not done Mr: Bevington justice this afternoon. He had been excited at meetiag her, and had said things which his sober judgment would condemn; but he had also said he meant to keep within the lines of friendship. It seemed to her that she had been cowardly; she had asked- him to leave her as if she were afraid of herself, when she ought to have asked his advice, and to have relied on his friendship to her. Just now she had resolved that she would not see him again, but this last thoughb had given her cour- age. They must meet once more, she de- cided, and they must resolve to help one another to be brave in bearing the trial that had been sent them. "14 we both try in earnest we shall be helped," she said to herself. She went downstairs to her father in a wrought -up mood, feeling happier than she had felt in her weeks of aimless dreaming. Philip Bryant kept expecting his visitor; he talked incessantly of him in a half -child- ish way. But Mr. Bevington did not come to the cottage. His scruples with regard to Ruth had vanished since he had learned her husband's desertion. The sight of her, the love he had read in her eyes. had fired him with the determination to win her. Lady Emily would not have believed her young oousin capable of the prompt energy he shelved. He found on enquiry that he could get to Munby, the nearest market - town, by train; and he deeided to go over and sleep there. He had ellen for himself thet Ruth was unhappy, and she was neglected by her husband. Re felt that he could never change toward her; she would always be the one love of his life. He was convinced that he could make her happy ; it must therefore be his duty to do so. His idea was to take her aWay from Dol mouth to -morrow. Ile could give her and her father a better home than the Dolmouth cottage, and he perautided himself that Ruth would consent to go with him if tihe had her father to live with her. Mr. Bevington meant to see Bryant next morn- ing. It was quite possible, he thought, that he might be brought to second hie views, if he did not melee thetn too appar- ent at starting. Reginald had a clear recollection of the fartner's willingness to drift and lot things come as they would. Surely, if he could little by little induce Bryant to see that his datighter'e present mode of life wee nureaeenable, and that doubtless the hwthand would be glad to get rid of her, Bevington shut his eyes as to what might hap. pen iu the fame. If it obtruded itself ne told hinv3elf that he eliotild never leave off loving Ruth ; how could ho? Re did nee helieVe, 1101V theb ho had Seen her again, that there was ouch another wo- man. He found a quiet lodging in Muuby, which he thotight would do for Bryant uutil be wiebed him to join his daughter, He meant to go abroad with Ruth, so as to avoid all gossip; and then, having finished his arrangetnents, he took the train for Dolmouth. Mre. Rimell's gentility •had Riede her adverse from' visiting her neighbors, but she had one cilium in IDohnouth, Mies Ube tha Stamper, who kept the post office and sold photographs and stationery, Miis Stamper had been told a good deal in favor of Mr. Bryant, who had fulfilled Clifford's expectations with regard to his landlady. His good looles, his winning manners, and Isis lameness had made the shy, kindly we - man deveted to him ; and she sang his praises to her friend in their frequent chats in Miss Tabithaes sanctum behind thenur- tained glass door that led into the shop, but the landlady rarely praised Mre. Clif- ford, Mrs. Rimell considered that [ter lecly lodger was unnecessarily beautiful; he was very pleasant, but she was not .a patch on her father. She was unsociable; shis had never, even on her first arrival, asked Mrs. Rimell to take a walk with her, or tell her about the place. Mrs. Clifford rarely wrote a letter, very seldom sewed, did not often read ; her chief delight in- doors was to sit at the pianoforte which her husband had hired* from Munby and sing till Mrs. Rimell, who disliked music, wondered her lodger's throat could stand it ; but then Mrs. Clifford was so little in- doors, She either sat with her father in the garden or on that lonely strip of beaoh, or else took long walks quite by herself. Mrs. Rimell did not tell out these facts about her lodger, she merely let them fall in the way of hints from her pale, flabby lips, when her friend Tabitha tried her patience by recounting the ,effect, which Ruth's appearauce in church had created in the mind of Miss Stamper's nephew, the owner of the all -shop of. Dolmonth, and on those of his single fellow -townsmen. Miss Tabitha whispered that the village sohool- master, a married man with a family of young children, had been heard to say that the strange 'lady was as beautiful as an angel. "Such an expression, you know dear Mrs. Rimell, to apply to another man's wife 1" Yesterday evening Miss Staniper had heard of Mrs. Clifford's interview with a strange gentleman on the beach, and the cronies had shaken their heads, and had wondered what husbands could expect who left giddy young wives to take care of themselves. It was therefore natural that when next day Mrs. Rimell threw open her lodgers' parlor door and announc- ed a gentleman to see you sir," she looked grimmer than ever. Ruth, happening to glance, at her, was surprised at the spitefulness of the woman's expression. Reginald Bevington went up to his old friend and shook hands. His greeting was affectionate and yet full of tact._ It seem- ed for the moment to Ruth as if the old days at Appledore had come back. The young fellow was evidently de- lighted to see his old friend. Ex- cept for the extreme gentleness of his manner there was nothing to indicate con- sciousness of the great change he saw in Philip Bryant. He then turned to Ruth, greeting her in an easy friendly manner, without any of the glow of pleasure that had sparkled in his eyes at sight of her fatThheer.giri smiled. ' "He is what I fancied he was," she thought; "he knows how hard it is for me to sen him, and he will not make it harder for me than I can bear." "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Beving- ton," her father said, in his genial way; "but you should have come earlier; we could have given you some lunch." "Thank you, I am staying in Munby. I only came cut to see you. I want you to come out to me there. You will come, you and your daughter, won't you, Mr. Bryant ?" Bryant looked delighted. A broad smile spread over his face, but Bevington saw that he looked appealingly at Ruth. "It is very. klnd of you," he said; " we shall enjoy a little change, shan't we, Ruth ?" Ruth was looking very grave. This pro- posal had made her suddenly nervous, but she had determined that her father should not guess the truth. Such a revelation might) she thought, bring on a fresh seiz- ure. " You are still very weak, dear," she said affectionately ; then she looked directly at Mr. Bevington, and forced herself to speak as if the subject were completely in- different to her. "My dear father looks so much stronger than he is. You would not guess how much even a short railway journey would try him. He could not possibly go to Mun- Bevington looked hard at her, and her eyes fell under his. Her opposition only served to inflame him; it made him even more determined. "But, my dear Mrs. Clifford, every pre. caution shall be taken. I have aseertihned that an ingalid-carriage can he had, so that Mr. Bryant can lie on a sofa all the way. I assure you there will be no fatigue." Ruth felt too desperate to maintain her 'show of indifference. Her browneyebrows contracted, and the square corners of her expressive mouth were strangely hard and set. Her father had been watching her with surprise and he remembered what shehaebiobuttollemr eh,usmbarnevdBizigton,". ,, You ladveia he said, with his kind smile. 1'11 talk it over with Ruth and let you know when to expect us, as you are kind enough to wish us to come." Bevington was earnestly wishing that Ruth would leave the room. He recognized that a great mental change bad passed over her father. To this ardent young fellow, fnll Of life and animal vigor, the poor, still figure in the easy -chair seemed helpless alike in mind and body. It would depend, Reginald thought, whether he or Ruth had the stronger power 'to himaelf for a few minutes her scruples, was on his side, if he could only get Bryant father, and he thought she looked utterly tio,in,t is not real," over the invalid ; and as Ruth in her heart he told himeelf, veould have to give way. alone, and then as he remembered how Ile &need at her as she sat near her unyielding,. He deeided to wait, He Would come over again and see Bryant dutiful Ruth had been he told himself he woald get such a hold over • Bryant as would oblige Reth to give up her opposi. he said to himself, "The sweet derling longs to come to me, but she is afraid." (To DE CONTINUED) Children Cry for Pitcher's CAstori4 .ek:eeeeee ' eetee 'vele sieees'eee ',Yee ee'ee' • eee for infants and Children. °Pastorate is sowelladaptedto children that recommend. it as superior to any prescription lezzown to me." H. Roma, M. D., 111 So. Oxford gt„ Brooklyn, N. Y. "The Ufle of 'Caetorla is so universal and its merits 80 Well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Pew are the intelligent families who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." Ceemos Maiteev, D.A., New York City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. Oastoela carte Celle, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, Eructation, Kips Worms, gives sleep, an21 promotes db gestiont Without injurious medication. "For several years I have recommended your ' Castoria,' and shall always continue to do so as it juts invariably produced beneficial results," EDWIN P. FADDEN, M. D., "The Winthrep," leiStli Street and eth Ave., New York City. TDM CgliTA.DM COMPANY, 77 MURRAY Swum; Nuw Foam Perry Davis' PAIN ...KT 114LEK Buy NO OTHER MEDICINZ ON EARTH isosgl,:f,'egmifg Big 25,— Cholera. Cramps, Chills, Diarrhoea, Dysentery, Cholera Bottle Morbus, Cholera Infant= and all Bowel Complaints. 7 4';'*4.;K:..rd..t:AtVrffC That Hackin Cough if allowed to run, will destroy the lining to Throat and Lungs, weaken the system and invite the Consumption Germ. • Scott's Emulsion of Cod-liver Oil, with hypophosphites of lime and soda, builds up the system, overcomes Chronic Coughs and Colds, and strengthens the Lungs: Physicians, the world over, endorse it. SCOTT'S EMULSION is the most nourishing food "known to science. It is Cod-liver Oil rendered palatable and easy to assimilate. • Prepared by Scott & /Rayne, Belleville. All Druggists. SO cents and $1. IIMMIM••••••••• eeeetee74.se , - - .•• Varicocele, miS1ths,rittyinis ooza-pKrg-, :51...e0Ittill Weakness. Meet, Seeicture, Sjptujljs, Utetiatural l'eelethareees, Self Abuse, Kidney arid reledelet piSe,SCS Positively Cured by ROW JI1athogrif6atmoot •1111.11ilorfa11116 9 -You can Deposit be Motley Ytr? Batik er with Your Postmaster to be paid us snot' sof; ere %Reg ;miler a written Guarantee! k Self Abum, Excaves and pinoc.t Vi,e4068 11.7c.7)i tra'Sktid the lives of thousands of young men e; and middle aged men. The fitrM", thb werleshbp, the Senday echool, the onkel., the profes- sions—all have its victims. These 9580, if you haim been indiscreet, beware of the future. Middle aged men, you aro growing prematurely weak and old. both VeIculdly and physically. - Consult tis before too late. NO NAMES USED WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT. Ceandentlal. VARICOCELE, EMISSIONS AND SYPHILIS CURED. '.;• W. S. COLLINS. W. S. Collins, of Saginaw, Speaks. W. S. COLLIN& ned 5111 19.' thon beam "ons 64 the boys" and led a "I am 29. At 15 Ileuma bad Iiiiijit which I contin- gay life. Exposure pro need Syphtlfa. I became nerv- ous rind despondent; no ambition; memory poor; eyes rod, sunken lied blur; pimples on face; hair loose, bone pains; 'weak bitck; varicocele; dreams and losses at night; weak- parts; deposit in urine, etc. I spent him- , drode of dollard withont help, and was contemplating suioide when u friend recommended Drs. Kennedy rt Kergan's New Method TrestmKnt. Thank God. I tried it. In two months I was eured_,_ This was six years ago, and never had a retern. Was Married two `••• Years ago and all happy. Bv's, try Drs. Kennedy et Ker.. BEFORE TREATM'T gap. before giving lap 1.10p0." AMUR TMEATM'T S. A. TONTON. Seminal Weakness, Impotency and s. A. TONTON. . • Varicocele Cured. "non I consulted Drs. Kennedy ee Kagan, / hal little hope. I was surprised. Their new Method Treat- ment improved me the first week. Emissions ceased, nerves became strong, pains disappeared, hair grew in again, eyes became bright, cheerful in company and strong BOXIIELilY. Having tried many Quacks, I can. heartily recommend Drs. Kennedy & Kergan as reliable 6- DESOBIL =ATV/ Specialists. They treated me honorably and ekillfully." , APPMD TIIEATX"r. e T. P. EMERSON. A Nervous Wrecic—A Happy Life. T. P. EMERSON. , T. P. Emerson Has a Narrow Escape. "I live on the farm. At eehool I learned an early habit, which weakened ine physically, sexually and going to (IC'aollYrnly)itrotn°7.s sablin!Ilr Monitor," edited by Drs. Kennedy do Horgan fell in- to my hands. I learned the Dna and Cause. Bele abuse had sapped my vitality. I took the New Method Trigriment and was cured. My friends think I . patienrs, aU of whom vvero cured. Their New was cured of Consumption. I have sent them many, LI Method Treatment supplies vigor, Vitality and man- if BBIFOEt TREeinf T. hood." 48733 TREVDNCENT. riager Has your Blood been iceaseti? Have you any wealmese? Our ATO you a victim? Have yontst hope? Are you contemplating mar- , READER ! New Method Treatment will cure you. What it as done for others it -will do for yon. t cD-Exxv.xeles 0=DZETL, 7c, 43.112" 10 Years in Detroit. 160,000 Cur,ed. No Risk. Consultation Free. No matter who has treated you, write for an honest opinion rftie of charge. Charges reationablo. Hooke Free "The Golden Monitor" (lllELB. il tratkoird), oNnoDisNensAelvis asf IsnonosIEneDlosewpoiTottHIldek02ueTentsw,. RS13;r10TdE. N CONSENT. PRI- VATE. No medicine sent C. 0. D. No names on boxes or envel- opes. Everything Confidential. Question llst and cost of Treat- ment, FREE. • tog/ Aese, No.148 SHELBY ST. DR& KENNEDY 86 KERGAN9 DETROIT, MICH. I E k-4 A Severe Pain in Shoulder 2Years Cured by"TheDAVitkenthell Plu.ster. My wit; wits afflicted for two years with a severe pain under the left shoulder and through to the !Han; after using many remedies without relief, she tried it "D.& L." Menthoi Piaster, it did intro& and owing to this cure hundreds of these plasters have been sold by me here, giving equal &Makatea. J. B. gDTHERLAND Druggist, River lobo, N.S. Sold Everywhere. 25C. each. 000.4.14mmostombotmgautimuammemnf mom., • Bob--"Ifello 1 I'm awfully glad to see you!" Dick—eI guess there must be Borne mistake, I don't owe you anythipg and I am not in a condi Mon to place yea in a position to owe me anything." Mrs. Newitt —"I discovered thie morning that we.need a doormat for the hallway very badly," Mr. Newitt—"Ie there any patticular neeeesity for it, 1" Mrs. New- itt —"Why, certainly 1 I've got to have some pleas. to hide the key when I go out, haven't I I" Potato bugs are numerous throughout all parts of the lend. "Mrs. Blirnber le very nervous abotit there being thirteen at the table to -night," "Does ehe think something unplcaeomt will happen ?" "Yes; ehe hits only a dozen knives and forka" "These is terrible hard time'," mid Me- andering Mike. "You bet they is," re. plied Pleading Pete, "A feller can't go twee here lookini fur work nowade,yis with' out hovin' eome egertel him"