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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1904-05-27, Page 7Y f47,1904 tea taster prOriouncee ? albatanees—no coarse nameless quality that ea that it is the best r Cared. As* for thet Ned loahol all only be a matter of a ' Oiler will make you Shed qepared for it? No (doubt alai/ right under an over -- light of the Spring ettle hat you require something We have the best, the. pring Suitings and Overe e your Spring suiheeiti neep rr eaa oz_ev.L .411L est our great grand - a kind of a way and nothing better. But good food when she tts of the 1 Range the baking this oven ed with fresh super - to us direct Coe, Limited Let Nrateacomestser SEAFORTH. deleleata ni ley us. We have ices for al kinds of We will give a ction gses FOR CASH ONLY, Kilq or day. .F.*LCIPt!TIEC. Phosphodbleo The &tat WM* is an old, swat lished and preparation. If &Stall prescribed and lagott over 40 years, gists in the Do of Canada se recommend as Mae_ After,he tonly mealtime its kind that curse 'real satiefaction. Ii PwmP 1.1 5, cures au forme of Nervous Spermatorrhoga, int of abate or exeeesee; the exenhileles geco, Opium or fltimUtants, ilemo" '4'Gerry, allot which lead to I Ie.euraption and an Early ersiseid paceage or six for $5. Otte ww• =,1-111 cure. Mailed promety pude-elle. ee Send for free pamPidete The Wood Company, Windeor„ at., Canada, _ eteeltedine ie sold In Seaforth by 0, Ablitt Cn<rai. S. Roberta, Alex, Wilson;toti 1.239 )NEY TO LOAN !e.t.a at lowest rites of inkiest 0 Y. Apply to JAB. L. RILED )-totth Ira* /1.4.Y 271 1904 Deiaiged Nerves MARY OMNI ROMANCE Weak Sponi. 9•11441111141441111. WAN. Sampson'sySydney,R.S., Advise to Sll Sufferers from Nerve Trouble Is "GET A BO,;(' OF MiLBURN'S HEART AND NERVE PILLS." Mays have been ailing for about a pat from deranged nerves, and very Ass walk spells would come Over me and ire fin had that 1 gometiriiSts thought I wadi be unable to survive them. I have Iwo treated by doctors and have taken ituututibus preparations but none of them ltel dale in the least. I finally got a box ef burn's Nea.rt and Nerve Pine. Before lbern cad not feel able to do any but now I can work as well as ever, s to one box of your pills. They wade a new man, of me, and my to any person troubled as I was, la et a box of Milburn's Heart and Nerve • Pelee so ces. per box, or 3 for $1.25, a dealers, sr rEE T. MILBURN co,, Limited, TORONTO, ONT. VETERINARY PUN ORIENT, V. EL, honor geminate of Ontario g, Veterinary College. A ,Idiseases of Demme! siding. *rested, 0a114 promptly attended to an charge. Moaaate, Veterinery Dentistry a specialty. Office ana residence on Goderich street, ono door sof Dr Sceit's office, Seaforth. 1112-i1 AUBURN Y. $,—Lionorary figaduate of the Onterio Vettelnery College and Honorary Here- to! the Medical Absoeiation of the Ontario Veter- inary College. Treats Ammo of all dolmen° animals by the most modern principles, Denlietry and Fever a specialty. Office opposite Dick's Hotel; Main street, Seaforth. ;All orders left M the hotel will receive prompt attention, Night calls received at ollee. 101-52 '1""•• LEGAL JAMES L. KILLORAN, striate Solicitor, Conveyancer and Notary Public. . limey to loan. Offlee over Pickard's Store Ilan Street Seaferth. 1648 R. EL HAYS, Ranister, Selleltar, Conveyancer and Notary Public. Solicitor for the Dominion Bank. Office—in rear of Dominica Rank, Seatorth. Money to loan. 1235 IM. BUT, Eateries, Solicitor, Conveyancer • Notety Public,. Offices up dein, over 0. W vey 'bookstore, Main Street, ffsaforih, Ontario. 1027 EavlIOLMNSTID, erroompeor to the late firm of • MoCaughey & Holmeeted, Banister, Solicitor queer, and Notary Solicitor for the Can aa Wok of Completes. Mon_ey to lend. ,Yanos Me, Mee in Scott'. Sleek, Main Street aredir. '11101LIN8ON AND GARROW, Banisters, Solicit. L/ ors, etc., Goderloh, Ontario, E. L. DICKINSON, 13334 CHARLES GABROW L. L. B. 110116s, DENTISTRY. F._W. fTWEDDLE, DENTIST, • range of Royal College of Dental Stirgeone of On BOO, post graduate course in crown and bridge work ai MasicelYs &hoot, Chicago, Load enastheties for random extraction of teeth. Office—Over A. Young's veiny store, Seaforth. 1764 MEDD:JAL. ,memeauee4aeamemull Dr. 4John McGinnis, 111. Graduate London Weittern Univenfts member Of Outmio College of Physicians and -.Burgeons. is. and Reeidenee—Formerly occupied by Mr. Wm. Ofolciu'd, Vetoes) Street, next to the Catholic Church firlIght GM. attended pomp*. . 1452,xiS DR. H. HUGH ROSS, Graduate of University olTororte aiructrof Med eine, mentber of College of Physician. and Sur' seem of Ontario; pass graduate courses Chicago Olinical School, Chicago; Royal Ophthalmic Hoop!- ' %London, England -. University College Hoepital, .enden. England. Oflide—Over Greig & Stewart's store, Main Street, Seafortb. 'Phone No. 5. Night cells ariewered:from reeidence on John etre& 1890 OR. F. J. BURROWS, SEAPQRTII Moe ad Ilesideuce--Goderich street, east of tbe athodise thumb. TELEPHONE No. 46 Coroner for the County of Enron, IBM DRS. SCOTT & MacKAY PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS, Wench street, opposite Methodial churoh,Seaforth fil. SCOTT, graduate ViebOrill and Ann Arbor, and ember Ontario College of Physicians end Surgeons. Coroner for County of Brum CI ILA -OKAY, homer graduate Trinity University, gold 'medalist Trinity Medical College. Member College of Phyliciane and Surgeons, Ontario. 1483 AUCTIONEERS. 7PHOMAS BROWN, lActensed Auetioneer for the .L Counties of Huron and Perth. Orders left at A.11, Campbell's implement wareromns, Seaforth, or Tint &poem& Office, will receive prompt 'Menton, atisfaetIon guaranteed or no charge. 1.70841 TAMES G. lictlICHIAEL, licensed auctioneer for •el the eaunty of Huron, Sales attended to in any part of the county at moderate rates', and satisfaction guaranteed. Orders left at the Seaforth poet office or at Lot 2, Concession 2, Mullett, will receive eivernpt Wootton. 183241 A UCTIONRI NENG.—B. S. Phillips, Licensed 11. Auctioneer for the counties of Huron and I -earth. Being a practical farmer and thoroughly ancieratanding the value of farm stook and imple- Toente, places me in a better position to realize good PAM. Charges moderate. Satisfaction guaranteed a'r no Pay. All orders !eft at Mensall poet office or at Lot 23, Concession 2, Hay, will be promptly Mended to. 1709-41 DIMS A. SMITB, licensed auctioneer for the eounth of Huron. Sales promptly attendel to 41 err pert of the county and satisfaetion guaran- teed. Addrees Winthrop P. 0. 1865-tf DYE WORKS. 'Having bought out the interest of the dyeing busi- -nese from Mee. Nickel of her late husband, Henry Niekle, formerly of Seaforth, 1 em prepared to do a 1 kinds of dicieg, cleaning and preWng. All work done on snort notice. J. T. SEWARD, Victoria et., a few doors south of the G. T. R., Clinton, Ont. 1868-tf MARRIAqE LICENSES ISSUED AT ME HURON EXPOSITOR OFFICE, SEAFORTH, ONTARIO, waMEMIMOINES4 NO WITNESSES' REOUIRED. E 101111 STRANGE WI/ITER, teopyright, we, by the Author.] "Everybody feels it in London, my dear, and when you've got air and are not choking you feel bored to death; you feel you would give anythiug to be back again in the place where things hum, to be in the thick of the fray. It is vegetation to spend all your life in a quiet place, even a paradise like this. BtitI tell you what we might do. I've had my doubts about the Sycamores for some little time. We might move into a flat—comparatively small—and take a cottage down here solely for work. That would pay better than setting up our tent in any such place as this alto - gather." "A cottage one could than round in, . "Oh, yes! 1 take it house rent is not very expensive here. At all events we will look round at all the cottages and see whatakind of pieces are going. And we must see first whether I can work in the dead stillness of a country life. Somebody or other called it 'dead still- ness,' didn't they? I once went down into the canary to do a very special bit of work that I wanted in a hurry. 1 went down with Goggle Eyes to a farm in Surrey. I came back at the end of a week dead beat, and indeed I never passed a week in such a continual din in my life! Did you know before that horses never go to sleep?" "Oh, nonsense!" 4'It is true,'mid he solemnly. "Horses never go to sleep, or, if they do, they walk in their sleep. My bedroom was at right angles with the stables where the farm horses lived. They kick- ed the wane and the mangers and the floor all night long I used to go in and look at them foddered down knee deep in straw, all still, silent, quiet, except for the pulling of the chains through the iron rings of the mangers. But as soon as I got into bed they all began, and they were never still for one min- ute until cock crow—never! At hal/ past 8 or earlier the poultry yard began. • And then between the coming of the laborers and the flirting of the young women—I don't know what they did, because the men did the milking—and the stentorian voice of tbe farmardbel- lowing his orders I never got armrest at all. Goggle Eyes slept through it. He said it was heavenly, it was so *an- on il. I believe Goggle Eyes would sleep through the last judgment." However, the Powys Arms proved to be an ideal working place for Alan Stacey. He flourished and throve, and the work grew apace, and Mary was more than ever set upon establishing a little seaside home of their o n, a little retreat to which they could a any mo- ment retire from the world. At the end of three week was finished, and little Mies ton went back to London.' Al and Mary, however, staid mime, old fashioned inn, their days in boating and fl trying to make up their mind part of the world they sho their holiday. If he had a pre was for a yacht, but Mary di very enthusiastically into th and he had alwaya a lingering she might have a speeial reas wishing to be on the sea. Th forbore to press her to conse arrangement, for - Alan Stec have done anythidg rather th way have remindad Mary of tragedy which had freed her first letufband. They talk Italian lakes, of the regaler y beaten Riviera track and lastly of Biarritz, with excursions over the Spa ish fron- tier. Upon that they praotica ly decid- ed, yet they lingered in the ittle fish- ing village from theeranabili y to tear themselves away. And during all this time they had never seen a London tewspa .er. Sev- eral times Alin' Stacey had sa'd in joke that they might as well be • ead and buried for all the news they h d of the world, and almost every day h declared that he must write to John and tell him to send on the papers. Bu as Mary did not write it somehow rem mod un- done, and they continued in their ig- norance of passing events. So nearly a month slipped "We really ought to make a move, sweetheart," said Alan one afternoon when - they were sitting onl a rock watching the fain sink slowly d wn into the water. "Yes," said Mary, "but it has been charming here. I don't," with a great sigh—"I don't think that the timelier been wasted." "My dear child, no time conld be wasted to me that has been spent with you. What a thing to 593rj Of cenrse it the hook n Stacey at the spending hing and in what Id spend erence, it not fall scheme, fear that for not efore he t to this yi would n in any the great er from de of the ' 1 1 • t a 1 SR LOCK Shylock was the man who wanted a pound of human flesh. There are many Shylocks now, the convales- cent, the consumptive, the sickly child, the pale young woman, all want human flesh and they can get it—take Scott's Emulsion, Scott's Ermilsion is flesh and blood, bone and muscle. It feeds the nerves, strengthens the digestive organs and they feed the whole body. - For nearly thirty years Scott's Emulsion has been the great giver of human flesh. We will send you a couple of ounces free. SCOTT 6 BOWNS, Chemist*. Toronto, Ontario, sec. and $1.00 all &Mists, ear' te —re e /de 4 :4•41 t AIM What The Earth Produces. The earth has nourished u* through ttu. known ages of humaa existence. Is it not true that -the earth supplies us with every- thing that we really require for existence? Have you ever thought that it is probable that the earth supplies us with the means to keep our bodily vigor, our health, if we only knew it? m.): animals know by in - intact what is good for them and will search until they find in wane plant what they need for correcting Indigestion or constipa- tion, etc. Is it, therefore, not possible that there are roots and herbs supplied by nature which will cure the diseases that &fillet hutnan kind? That is why Dr, Pierce, of Buffalo, N, Y., has such faith in his 'Wed. ical Discovery!' Years ago, when he was in general and active practice, he found that a combination of certain herbs and roots made into an alterative extract; with- out the use of alcohol, would always put the stomach into a healthy condition, noun. fah the tissues, feed the blood atutnerves and put healthy tone into the whole eystem. Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery restores the lost flesh by curing diseases of the stomach and other organs of digestion and nutrition and enabling the perfect di- gestion and assimilation of food from, which fifth and strength are made. er Wall all run down, very nervous, and suf- fered terribly from stomach trouble, which the doctors pronounced inffigestionel writes Mrs, Wm, Morey, . of Marshall, Mich. (II doctored for a year without permanent relief, Was ad- vised by a friend to try Dr, Pierce's Golden Med- ical Discovery, and after the use of nine bottles I was cured. I call heartily recommend the 'Golden Medical Diecovery ' to any one suffer- ing from stomach troub1e, My husband was also greatly benefited by its mite' To gain knowledge of your own body -4n sickness and healtb —send for the People's COttlfUOU Sense Medical Adviser. A book of Too8 pages, Send ax cents in stamps for paper- covered, or, eo stamps for cloth- bound copy, Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, 663 Main Street, Buffalo, N. Y. ar,ossatass.1 t•saavartf,tts.aissases-sasissroSslairias-, has not been wasted. -Ties' place has served our turn well, but we both want change, you as well as L Do you know, two or three times lately I have thought you looking quite careworn, and you have nothing," looking at her anxious- ly and searchingly—"you have nothing to be careworn about?" "Nothing," mid Mary. She could feel the sob in her throat; she wonder- ed that he did not bear it. "I think you are right," she said, after a nio- ment, "arid that it is time that we Were moving on, You have quitddecid- ed on Biarritz, Alan?" • "As well as any other place. We have never been there. They say it is bright and gay and exhilarating. If we don't like it, we can move on some- where else." "Then we will go home tomorrow?" "1 think vve may as well," he replied. So she set about packing up her few belongings. She had taken only the most plain and simple serge gowns with her. A single trunk held everything that she had. She packed a good deal tbat evening, and in the morning 'she got up early and finished it off before breakfast time. ' "I will just run down to the village," mid _Alan, "and settle up with Jan Treyethick, and by that time you will be ready for breakfast." "Yes, I obeli be ready,'' 'said Mary, emiling at him, - She watched him go down the village street with eyes fall of pride and love. What a man he was! With what a ;mingle walkedl With what caress, easy grace of carriage! A mac every inch of him! She was sorry to leave the dear little Cornish village, and, edit she felt that the pleasant Basque town Would be at once a change and a relief from the monotony of the life that they were then leading. She dreaded that one day Alan would wake up to dull- ness, for that, she well knew, would be the beginning of the end of their love. Yes, for both their sakes it were better that thershould go to Biarritz and be gay. She would be quite safe there. Edward Conway, if he were really seek - Me watched him go down the 'village street. ing for her, would never look for her in such a place as that. If he were on her track, he would find ber as well at St Agnes as be would find -her at Biarritz. There! Thatwas the last! She shut down the lid of her drees basket with an air of satisfaction. Alan's portmanteau ehe had finished half an hour before. She would put her hat and gloves there on the dressing table, so that she evonld only just have to run up stairs and fetch them after breakfast. She glanced atler watch. Oh, he bad had plenty of time to get back from seeing the old boatman, and she turned to the window to look whether he were not coming She only gave one glance. The window was at the end of the room and com- manded a full view of the irregular cobble paved street, And as Mary's oyes were turned to look along it she saw Alan Stacey and Edward Conway walk- ing up the street. CHAPTER XV. TO THE BITTEU END. Mary only gave one horrified glance along the village street, ere she cowered back behind the shelter of the rite dimity curtains. Yee; it was bet The man who in law owned her; the man who bad bought her with a price; the man who had . treated her as boad slave. He walk not THE HURON EXPOSITOR. very ranch changed. His hair and bard Were white, but his face was just as weather beaten as of yore, and his gait bad the same pronounced sailor's roll. Re was apparently talking excitedly and was gesticulating wildly with his hands. Alan waslistening, as he loung- ed along with his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his pipe between his teeth. The figures of the two teen passed nnder the window and out of her sight, but Mary stood. there like a woman who was petrified. Stood there, holding for support to the frail curtain, welding for the blow to fall. She waited as Melia Antoinette may have waited under the guillotine. In five minutes it will be all over; in four; in three; in two; in one. It was close at hand—abont to fall Yes! She tore herself ;may from the support of the curtain as she heard a footstep on the stair. Then Alan en- tered' the room. • "Well, sweetheart, are you not near- ly ready for breakfast?" he asked. The sudden revulsion of feeling, the overpowering sense of relief almost broke her down, She caugbt hold of the dressing table to eteady herself, but for a second or two could not speak. At last she choked down the great knot in her throat and asked him a question. "Who was that you came up the street with?' He never looked at her as he answer- ed. He was doing something to his pipe. 'Oh, a chap who asked' the way; that was alL " "The way to where?' “I directed him to Roathlyn. He is half way there by this time. Come, let us go down and get our breakfast." ` She felt that the risk was immense. She wondered what Edwaed Conway was doing in that part of Coanwall. She had never heard him speak of having been in Cornwall, she had never heard of his having any connection with any one in Cornwall or with Corpish people, and then tide reminded herself, half bit- terly. that she had known very little of him at La. But what was he doing here in St. Agnes? it wits no nee ehirking the situation. She must dare and risk all at this juncture. Nothing would be gained by cowardice. And, after all, he could never force her to go beak to bim. He could only at the very worst expom her, and in her case exposnre would mean the world's pity, never it$ scorn. She drew her breath- sharp between her teeth, took her handkerchief off the dressingaable and turned and went out of the room and down the stain, Alan Stacey following And in the best par- lor their breakfast was laid, and in two minutes the delicate fried fish and gold- en fresh eggs were brought in. "Fish or eggs and bacon, sweet- heart?" said Stacey as the apple cheek - ed tnaid lifted the covers of the two dishes "Eggs and bacon, thank you. Alan,' she replied. She had never in her life felt less like eating, but it would not die to arouse suspicion by retthing to t to do so. • She poured out the coffee ad listened with a smile that was no1 very real while Alan told her of his farewell to the old boatman. ; At last he stretched out his hand to her across the table. "Sweetheart," , he said, "you are quite sad at going away. Wonld you rather stay here?" She answered him all in a hurry: "Oh, no, Alan; no, no. I am all packed and ready. Don't suggest such a thing. What should make yon give bee such a Lot's wife character as that? I much prefer to be going away. We have been bere quite long enough. It is a dear lit- tle place, and yon low I always want to stay in a new place forever ; it is one of my characteristics, but I think I get tired of thein. I' think fuse them up. I don't believe I Shall want to come to St. Agnes again.'" . "Not even to have the cottage?" "No," trying hard\ to repress a shud- der; "no, not even to amve the cottage, Alan. After all, I thtialt you are right. There is no place like London. We will stay at home a few days before we go on. What do you think?" "Just as you please. I don't see why we shouldn't." "Nor I," said she, for the thought had come to her that, if Edward Con- way was hunting her down, there is no place in the world where you can keep yourself hidden so easily as in Lindon. Nor would it be easy to find her, for • she had not a single friend or acquaint- ance who had known her at the time of Captain Conway's supposed death. At the time of her second marriage she would have written to Mr. Lawson, to whom she had only a few weeks before repaid the last installment of the £100, at what pinching effort she alone knew, but he had just died, and with the oth- ea officials of the Red River line she had no acquaintance. So long as she did not walk abroad there was but vtry little chance of her stumbling against her pursuer, Here, on the contrary, it was almost impossible to keep out of the way of any one whom you did not want to see. Presently she would have to drive three miles to the fitation, not, mercifullyr alotig the road to Roathlyn, but in the opposite direction. Still, it was possible that be might have changed his mind, and in any case she would not feel ;absolutely secure until ehe was mit of the neighborhood, until she was oat of this desolation et woods and fielde and into the safe shelter of the great city. For one wild moment she wished with all her heart she had told Alan when the news of Edward Conway's rescue first reached ber. But now that she had come face to face with the ter- rible and awful tragedy which would end, God alone knew how, she did not dare to speak. As she sat there, trying to force the egg and the delicate strips of bacon bit by bit down ber throat More than half the battle in Cleaning e greasy dishes is in the Soap you use, If it's Sunlight Soap it's the best. aa BRIGHT' ISEASE is titdeadliest and most painful malady to which mankind is 'ultra, Dodd's Kidney Pills will cure eny case of Bright's Disease. They have never failed in one single case. They are the only remedy that ever has cured it, and they are the only remedy that can. There are imitations) of Docid's Kidney Pills—pill, box and name—but imitete trona suss dangerous. The original and only glIfitIffie cure for Bright's DWass is ODD'S 1 KIDNEY PILLS Dodd's Kidney Pills are fifty cents a box at all druggists. AMINSISNIAISMIts0Ments. T=Staret she recalled the very first time that she had ever seen him—how be bad refused with absolute scorn to inquire into her character, how he had told her that honesty was the dominant note of her life; that she had many times given herself away by being f00 honest, by not being able to tell, at the right mo- ment, the harmless, necessary lie. And if I tell the truth I must needs confess that she was at this juncture afraid to tell him—afraid to own that oho had shared his life and love while the barrier of a great secret lay be- tween them. She told herself that it Would liave been so easy to carry the; news straight to him then that day when her horrified eyes had first fallen upon that announcement in the papers which was headed, "Survivors of the , Arikhama." It was not easy then; ; now it was almost impoeeible. She felt I that the maid not face the look of sur- prise in his eyes; she felt that if every- z thing came out, and he should ask her to stay with him, he could no longer ask it as a favor. So more and • more she realized the need of keeping It all a dead secret, of biding from Ed- ward Conway as long as she could and , Of trusting to blind chance and Provi- dence to free hii—to free her this time I beyond all shadow of doubt. There were still emne trivial arrange- I ments for Alan to make when they bad , finished breakfast, gratuities to be giv- en, one or two liege bills to be paid and the landlord's account to be settled in fulL She could hear him in the little he passage explaining to at he bad no doubt as to the bill—it was no use r the items; that he had , idea how many whiskies had had, and that if be on he would prefer to set - without any further ar- en she heard the landlord room across raine host t the honesty o his going ov not the least and rodeo he had no object - tle the accou guments. T protest that he wanted them to come back again, and ;therefore he was par- ticularly anxious that Mr. Stacey should go thorougbly into the bill, so that if there was anything to which he object- 1 ed he might meet him at once. "My friend," said Alan, "you will never make year fortune. Here you have entertained no to the best of your ability. You have satisfied both my wife aria myself, and we are extremely obliged to you for all the trouble and pains that you have been at to give us ' a good time. I am quite satisfied that . the bill is all rigbt and that there isnot a single item in it to which any reason- able man could raise any objection." Then she heard the chink of money and, from the silence thee followed, guessed that the landlord was employed • in the serious business of receipting the bill. She wondered how many more ho tel bills would be made out, paid and receipted for their sojourn together. She wondered if Edward Conway found her, and the decided to stay with Alan —if Alan did net wish her to go away. She wondered what people in London woold say; how they would take it. She supposed that in that case Edward Conway would make it the business of his life to follow them round and ea- alain to every one the exact position in which they were placed. Would it be better to tell everybody? Would the story get into the papers? Would it be blazoned from one end of the world to the other that Alan Stacey's wife had a story as romantic as any of the thrill- ing pages which had come from his pen? She bethought her, in her distress and anxiety, of a silly game called "consequences," a game in which the last clause is, "And the world saitl." What would the world say to them—to tier? She did not know; she did not dare to think. Only she felt resolved that so long as she could keep the secret she would dc so. "And you will come back again. sir ?" she heard the boniface say. "Yes, I expect we shall come back again the next time I have got a spell of hard work on and want to get out of London, It is di actilt. to work in Lon- don," she heard Alan answer; "it is difficult to keep free of interrnptions and so on. We have enjoyed oureelves very much, I can theme you." Then she heard a heavy footfall en- tering the house. Her anxious, strained ears told her whose steps they were. They passed her door to the sanded bar, and then she beard Edward Conway's voice saying: "You bave a lady here that is passing nyder the name of Sta- cey. Which is her room?" I Then there was a rush across the passage, and Alan Stacey burst into the room and caught her in his arms. "My poor child," be mid, "1 have been drea-ding thie for weeks and weeks. The blow has fallen at last." And by some instinct Mary knew not only that he had known, the truth all along, but that he bad been the first of the two to hear it, CHAPTER XVL LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER. There was only time for a hurried whisper between them. "You won't desert me—you won't give me over to him?" she gasped. "Never," be answered; "never while I live i" Then the door was pushed hurriedlY open, and Edward Conwars blunt fea- tures and burly figure appeared before them. It was apparent to the meatiest ob- servation that the man was beside him- eelf with passion. He stood just within the doorway, his hands thrust deep down into his trousers pockets, eying first one and then the other with his flinty eyes, and upon bis lip was it ter- rible sneer. "Well, Mrs. Conway," he began at last, "have you no sort of welcome for me, your long loot husband, given up for lost years since, your little more than bridegroom? Still silent? Have you nothing to say?" Her lips moved, but no sound came from between them. "Still silent? No fond word of greet- ing? Too much astonished, eh? You made our° I was dead and gone, didn't yen? But Edward Conway is not got rid of so easily as that! Don't you think it I Edward Conway bas been under for it good long time, and Edward Conway has got up again, and be has comeback again to his happy home and bis roving little wife that he left behind him," "You shall never come beat° mcI 1 would never have lived with you again! You knew itl" "Oh, you're thinkiug still of a bit cf a tiff! What's that between hiniband and wife? Have yon never tiffed what this Johnny that you tea_ up with as soon as I was gene?" "This lady is my wife. eiie" put in Alan Stacey, with dignity. "Your what?" "My wife, she Your turning up again most inopm 1man4 e may annul our marriage, but no el nr will reit upon this lady. There is nobody who knows here that will not pity her. mid pity her doubly, first, for leaving I mar- ried to you at all; seeenaly. for having boon the vietim 41f n terrible eliain of circumetances. This lady did not talra np with me. She married nie with all dun formality and bleseingof theelierele Until you have legal proof that our marriage be no =midge Om is iny wife," "She is coining bark N.:Rh me," eaid Edward Conway, Antrim; his teeth hard and Pnapping the words out as if his lip were rattrap!. "She is never going with yon She will never have anything to do with you again—never She would 110Ver have lived with you again under any cir- cumstances, You Wok advantage of her. You bought her with a price. You 111 used her. I am ashamed to say it, but you struck her—your little more than bride, And you can ask her when she has tasted the sweets of a real mar- riage, when she bas known what it is to live with a man who wonld thrust his hand into the fire rather than raise it against a woman—you can ask her to go back to the slavery and degradation of life with you? Think, my good sir, is it likely?" "I don't know whether it's likely." said Edward Conway. n1 know what the law is, and I meanto have it." "I will never go back to him, never It Mary flashed out. "As for you, you jack a dandy,' . Edward Conway went on, taking no BO- W° of her interruption, ar didn't know you this morning when I saw you stand- apg talking at the old Luau's door. I asked you if you knew some people here wbo were passing under the name of Stacey, and you asked me what the man was like and what he did frd a living. I told you that he icribbled novels and that I did not know what his appear- ance was. and you told. me that poi had never -met " "I never did," said Stacey.:with de- liberate iesolenca. "Yon told me that you Aid not know .enything about him. and yon sent 11i0 -- van sent me—you sent me to Roathlyn 1 You told me that there was somebody —an artiet or a scribbling chap or wmiebody—who lived by his wits and who bad a pretty wonjan with hint staying at Roathlyn.. You thoeght you bad got rid of me, eh l But you were beaten for once in your life. You live by your wits, do you.? Eh t And other people have wits, if they don't live dy 'em I I went aown the street. after we parted at the door here, and 1 aeked an old erandfather, who looked a dewy old soul and likely to know the ileigh- borhood—I Belted him if he knew any people of the name of Stacey. He put me on the right track. 'Why,' said ith,, 'that's the gentleman who is living it .the Powys Arms—him I've beard tell is writing a story book.' So I came back to find the gentlemau who was wring a story book." "Then," said Alan Stacey, his voice very cutting and calm --"then, my good sir, you can go back again. This is not the place in which to tattle a dispute of thie kind. I presume you have a law- yer. I will give you the address of mine. No power on earth can force this lady to live with you again. She definitely refuses the honor. Everybody in London knows wherd I live—or if there be any that don't know they can very easily find mit I will give you every information. "Yon will give me iny "That I never will While LI have breath in Inv eedv I will stick to the The inabiIty1 to Rest and Sloop is a rnarksd symptom etc nor. you* exhaustion, ths natural outcome of which is paralysis. The pason whoee nerves are gal:muted =- quiet but is rtlesa and fidgety, early initatad and subject to Wile ef severe headacbe and indigestion. Dr. chagez Nerve Food these eughly cures nervens diseases by intating up th system and instilling irw vitality into the woad Neve cals. It1153 Me ANDERSON, lee Cret Street H,,mellfromay., ieN.nwEev,tesstelystesterz;— p were Zwasim dm:Lit:land Gadd xmat. &ex Chases tacteureedji oft beaditawer Di: Nerve Toed and by the joleof bosentinse waskaden antaktiche aga few y appetite was very much linproved, I was =rad ad sleeplessness and bead. KIK AMMON ache, and 113V sys!ens gos. orally seemed to be theeougaily butft up: ' By *Wag your facrease in weight wens usiag this great food cure, you can prove that new, fern Mesh and time is beteg add, -4 to ibm body. Te protect you against Imitations tbe portrait sad signature of Dr. A. W. Chase, the fanaotas receipt book author, are on every box. MIR woinan who took inc in good faith for better, for worse. And if I know any- hing of my friende they will honor ber more for staying with me than they would if she went back to what some people would call her duty and you." "Lawyers!" repeated Edward Con- way contemptuonely. "I don't believe , in lawyers between man and wife. Not a bit of it i It is all elm& anti fair and aboveboard. I want well fig mit of the way. but what I want 1 15 elm to have, I married yon white he ed hussy be- cause I Was Mad iilloill le'r I was fa' fool, lint men are always fools in that way. I've been emelt du a 43esert is- land for a long time. wheee I've had nothiag to do but to think about the wife who scorned me, and I thought— and 1 thought —that if ever I got back I'd make her eat her worde—I'd make her come like a dog to my feet." "Herel filet out of 64;1' ' -.aid Staemy, breaking in ruthlessly upon hie raving. "Get out of thisi There'll be no eaeg to yonr feet' ahont this lady, So. Iv good fellow, put that out of your mind at once. Take what step you like. Enter a divorce. We than not defend it Please yourtelf what ydg ea, etai take yourself out of our way That's all we aek. At a I ()Vents get out of this room It's mm +." "And that ---that is my wifel" "That's as may he willed in court afterward. at mit of my metier "Not without my wife." "I promise you yen will, and you'll go a good deal quicker than you like if you don't got ont at once. Now, come, mv good sir, 'you efill go bads auctin." I don't waatto make a scene or it row. You're arkolder man than I am, and T. don't wisli to try which of ns is the better min of the two. At the same tune your presence is impleaaant to eatt and distasteful to thii lady, and the sooner you relieve US of it the bate*. Now, ont you go 1', There was a momentary Waffle., and then the door was shut and Alen 8f4t, cey's back was againet it. He and Mary were on one side of the door and Ed- ward Conway was on the other. On his side Edwaed Conway began frantically to beat at the door; then he kicked, and at lest, when the etont panels showed signs of giving way, there was a 'redden cessation of the efforts to enter—a pause, a groan and the sound of a heavy body tumbling to the ground. "Huth! Signet hing has happened!' said Stacey to Mary "Oh, Alan re "Yes; they've ail stopped waking 1 heard the landlord's voile) a miente ago. I shnll open the door.' "Oh. DO; don't Alaril He may ehoot You." "No. no! Litrii He has had a fit r And so it proved to he. Tio. excite- ment, the great mental fitrovie anil the physical strain to vishich the uefer- tunate man had put himself in trying to forceopen thedoor had ail dune their work When Alan opened the door. it waa to find Edward Conway on the Si idle floor of the pa age in a fit id apoplexy. and Miry WM.; practically a free wenein. They raised Win from the thew and ear- ried him to bed, but he never cpoke or showed signs ef conscionsnees again. For a few hours he lingered, breathing heavely'and with labor, aid during all thee, hours of allXi01111 wiliting Mary staid down on the beach, aieteining to theheatine° of .the watete upon the roek boundcoast and wondering, won- dering, whether Providence would be kind to her or not. Then Alan Stacey came down to SO her that all was over. "Dear," he said, "this hae been a htirtible time for you. I know as ;ma as the report came that they had refictma twine of the crew of the Arikkares; RIM it in the evening papers. I have never been sure whether you knew or not. Perhaps I was selfish to keep It from you, but I felt that 1 -could not— could not—come and tell you wbst world put yon out of my life. Gut of my home, although nothing could ever out you out of my heart, Nobody will know anything atont it now unless In- deed by the meant chance, 'when tbere would be neither blame 'nor ignominy attached to either of us. I told the landlord a lie. 1 told him that 0011W2I had mietaken you for eomebody else, and he believed it. I told bile that it world be very unpleasant for you if, when his relatives reline _down, you were mixed up in the Htory in any way, and I gave him a teener to leave us out of the affair as ter fhl 18 poesible. He was most eyrnpathetic. He will never trouble us. We will go butk to London at once—we can get part of the way tonight—and as soon as possible ws will be quietly married itt eonte out of the way chnrcb, wbere nobody need know anything about us." "Dear Alan," said she, "what out of the way church will you find where no- body will know auything about you?" "Well, dear child, there are good souls in the world who would not hurt us by blazoniug forth this unhaPPY story. It is no great matter if the world does ICHQW ; it Will be certain raze th= that you and I are fast tied in walock. " END. eeeme/R•seMININ•MMIIII4POOM...... Whooping Cough- " In the erring of 1191 my ebilaren had weeoping cougle sap Mre. D. W. Capps, of Capps, Ale. I ureed Chamberlain's Cough Remedy with the mod satietactory resu te. I think this is the best remedy have ever seen for whooping cough." This medy keeps the cough loose, leesens the severity and frequeney of the eoughing spells, and counteracte any tendency to- ward pneumonia. For tale by ALEX, Wien son, Druggiet, Seaforth,