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I CONFUSION I 1„,„, * I OF CASTE. I L,nt,o.w| CHAPTER XXV. A lew hours' journey on a summer <lay brought Dorcas at its close to a . quiet country station. As she step- ped on the platform, a scryant in livery cuiue up to her and touohod his hat. "For Mrs. Harcourt's, ma'am 'f" he said. "The carriage is here." And Dorcas took her soat, •ji>l in half an hour more had reach- •ed i.?n; bouse. "How shall we get on together ? What will she say to me ? How will it all end ?" slie had been ciuestion- Jng with herself a hundred times ; and her heart was beating in great throbs aa the servnnt led her up the stairs, and opened the door of the rooai In which Mrs. Harcourt -was. But when she entered that room, Mrs. Harcourt merely halt 7-ose from the sofa on which she was lying, and received her as she might luive received the most ordinary guest. "I am glad you have come," she said, qujetly, and put out her hand. "X have been very 111, or I would scarcely have askea you." "Yes, I understand that," Dorcas answered, in a low voice. And then in another ijioment they were talking about quit« common things. "Are you tired ?" Mrs. Harcourt 9aid. "I think you must be tired, for the day is so hot. You must rest a little, and my maid will show you your room, and then we will have acme tea. Do you mind falling in with my invalid hours ? I dine at one o'clock, now'that I am alone, and take tea at six." How strange it seemed to the girl, aiter all her tremors, to be sitting at lust by 6irs. Harcourt's side, lis- tening to her talk about the hours will not ask you to spend mors than a little while each day witli me." "Not if â€" you should come to like my being with you ?" Dorcas said, quietly; and then Mrs. Harcourt la.ughed. "If that sliould happen, you think â€" very justly â€" that the chances are I sha\l becomie selfish ?" she said. "Well, you may be right^-but that will settle itself presently. In the nneantime, we knov? too little of one' another to make us wish to pass a great deal of time together....! am 1 going to say good-by to you to-night, very aoon, for I go to bed at nine, i and I like to be quiet for an hour | before I try to sleep." I Was Dorcas happy as sahe laid her \ own head on its strange pillow pre-; sently '? The last week at home had been a hard one, but it was past; now, and there seemed to be rest j here, and escape from self-reproach â€" , and was there not hope and the ex-: pectatiou of a great gladness tar ; otl ? Surely she might be happy ? j And yet the tears came to her eyes | before she fell asleep, as the thoughts i went back to the lonely house that 1 ?he had left behind her. 1 "Oh. why are things so hard ?" «he asked herself for the hundredth i time. "Why is it made to seenv selfisli and wrong in mo to love him ? I have only done what other , girls do, and yet 1 feel as it I wss ' guilty and wicked." ' "Father, ought I never to have | let myself care for him ?" .'ihe had] said to Mr. Trelawney, sadly, one! day. I He had tried, after she had made her confession to him, to .sliut his heart against her, and his coldness, ; and reserve, and silent smITering had at which their meals were to bej cut her to the quick. From her .s»erved, as if they had no deeper sub- mother she had h.id sympathy, but Ject of interest between them in the from her father none. Day after day world ! (Sirl-like, she had supposed] he had sat alone viffth. his sorrow, that their meeting would be marked scarcely speaking to her, refusing 1»y some show of emotion, but it i help from her, trying to go on with had been marked by no show of 1 his solitary work with a desolate, amotion; it had been wholly com- ! impotent patience, monplaco and quiet. I "Father, do you thin& I should "If she will but go on treating me : never have let him care for me ?" like this I shall not be afraid of her â€" I shall know how to get on witli her," she thought presently to her- self, with no small relief. For Dorcas herself disliked tho dis- play of emotion, andâ€" except perhaps in the one great case of her love for Frank, where, it is true," she had broken at one bound through half the rules that had guided her in her common lifeâ€" was always most at ease with those who were reticent on the subject of their feelings â€" the Quaker element in her -leading her to sympathize most with a certain amount of outer coldnessâ€" to find satisfaction in a film of ice. "Can you be contented, do you think, to spend a few weeks hero with very little to amuse you ?" Mrs Haroourt asked her. after an hotir or two had passed. "You will have no society, you know, because I am not strong enough to see my friends. There are plenty of books in the library, and there are some pretty places near, where you can walk or drive â€" and if you care for flowers you will find a 'garden full of them ; but unless you can make yourself liiiPPy amongst such things as these I am afraid you will be dull with me." "I am in no danger of being dull," Dorcas replied. "I have al- ways lived a very quiet life." "That is fortunate for me, then," and Mrs. Harcourt smiled. "Will .you bear with me too if 1 am some- times irritable ? 1 have not been an ill-tempered woman hitherto, yet perhaps I may iry you a little now." "I am not afraid of you trying me," the girl said, quickly, with the color coming to her face. "Well. I should tliink you were patient. I expect yoti have quiet ways. An invalid wants soothing people near her, you see, and 1 can imagine that you will be soothing." "I will try to be." "You need not try to be. my dear. If yoit are naturally soothing T shall she said to him at last. "Surely you must think that, or you would never punish me as cruelly as you are doing. Ought L never to have thought of marrying at all ? Either I ought not, and you have cause to be angry with me, or I have only done what â€" what it is ungenerous to blame me lor." And then she put her hand upon his shoulder for a minute, and after that minute, SRiddealy and closely, she clung about his neck. "Oh, my dear, I never did it will- ingly. It came before I knew â€" I could not help it," she began to cry. "I want you to love me stlU â€" I want you to be good to me still â€" a» much as you ever did, when I had nobody else to. care for in the â- world." She melted him for the moment, and made him kiss and bless her. "I have no right to be angry â€" none â€" none," he told her, gently. "You have gone away from me, that if all; but I shall bear it better pr^ sently. My little Dorcas I" he skid, suddenly and paUieticallyâ€" "my little dear child !" They sat together again for an hour or two that day, and they both tried to bring back the likeness of tho days that used to be; but the.y could not do it. The familiar talk would not come ajjain; there was a s'hadow between them; the old union that had lasted so lon^ hod becomo broken. "Oh, Gilbert, it will be rtght for the child, I think, but what will you do without her ?" Letty ven- tured to say to her husband on one of these dark days. She had been hovering about him, yearning to apeak to him, and yet afraid; she came to him at las., and stole her hand intp his as she asked her question. "God knows !" he answered her bitterly. His passive fingers hardly closed round hers; after a moment, he turn- ed away from her. She was nothing to him in his sorrow: her sympathy "So you are going to these peo- ple '.'" he said to Dorca.s. when the morning for her journey came. He had made no opposition to her going. ".Sellle it as you wisli." he had only said to her, when she had asked him what answer sho s(hould seiid to Mrs. Harcourt's note. And then, when tne time for her depar- ture came, before they left the house together, he kiweed her, and told her that he hoped she would be happy. "And you need not think of me. Do not consider nne at all," he said, grimly, 'nor let me spoil your pleasure." "Do you suppose that I can help tliiaking of you ?" she answered quicklv to that speech. And then, half with sadness, «ialf with anger â€" "Â¥ou might as soon bruise me, and tell me not to feel the hiirt," she said. She was angry for a moment, but after she had let herself utter these words she reproached herself for having spoken them, and she hastily took his two hands and kissed them. "Oh, my darling, forgive me for being impatient," she cried, peni- tently. "I think we have both been very miserable. Forgive me if you ctiD before I go." Then he took her in his arms, and held her to his heart for a long time in silence. "My Dorty !" he only said, at last, calling her by her old childisih name in a passionate, brok- en voice. So the week had been a hard one, and, though it was ended now, the girl's tears came again as she My tonight on her fresh pillow, and thought of it: and the sorrow and loneliness siie had left behind still seemed to follow her to this new place, and make her heart heavy aa she fell asleep. They called Mrs. Harcourt's house the Dower House. It stood in the midst of a rich country, with plea- »ure grounds about it. and beyond the garden on ono side lay a long stretch of unduUiting pine woods. "My husband's father bought this place for his mother when he mar- ried. It will be my home too when Frank marries," Mrs. Hni-court said, quietly. "A pretty houseâ€" is it not? I have always liked itâ€" and I like the mild climate too. I think it is a good thing to live in the south when one is growing old." She was very feeble still after her illucss, and only drove out a little each day. or sat sometimes for an hour in her invalid-chair in the sun- shine under the veranda. She look- ed very fragile, Dorcas often thought. One evening, after a few days had passed, the girl, as they were sitting together, ventured to touch her hand with a half-murmur- ed pity. 'How thin it is !" she said, and stroked the fingers softly for a moment. It was the first caress, or ap- proach to a caress, that had passed between them. â- yesâ€" it is thin now," Mrs. Har- court replied, "but it was as strong and flrm as yours once, my dear." They .had fallen with curious quiet- ness into their life together. Before she had qonic to her Dorcas had been afraid of this unliuown woman, but when no more than only a couple of days had passed it seemed to her that she was fast forgetting that she had been afraid. "Sho is cold." the girl thought, "but I do not mind her coldness. She Is watching me too. I know ; but if she will be only just to me and act honestly, I am not afraid of her watching â€" and I think â€" I can- not help believingâ€" that she will be just." "Arc you contented to stay with me ?" Mrs. Harcourt asked her. at a week's end, and Dorcas aiis^wercd in- stantly â€" "Yes." She said "Yes ;" and then she paused for a moment, and after that quietly dropped the formal name, and called her "Dorcas." 'It is a quaint, old name ; how did you couiti b.v it '.'" she presently one day asiked lier; and then Dorcas, with her heart beating a little quick- ly, bravely answered â€" "I was called alter a grand-aunt â€" Dorcas Markhom â€" a good woman. who had been like a mother to mam- ma." •I think 1 Wave heard of her," Mrs. Harcourt answered; and tlien said nothing more. Perhaps she had winced a little too, as well as Dor- cas. "I do not mean to let you spend much of your time with me," flirs. Harcourt had said to her on tho evening when she first came, and ac- cordingly for two or three days at Uie beginning the.v did not .spend n great deal of their time together, but graduall.v after that the.v came to be togetlier more and more. "I think I must tiro you," Mrs. Har- court sometimes said; but Dorcas answered, quietly â€" "You never tire me." Nor, in truth, did she; for, curiously and to her own surprise, a strange kind of liking for this cold, unimpulsive woman was awakening in her : somehow â€" she scarcol.v knew how or why â€" she felt at home with her; she felt as H she might be hard, but not false or treacherous â€" that she might end b,v becoming her en- emy, but that, if she did, it would be with an open enmity. "I can trust j'ou." she said to her by chance one day. in reference to 3ome slight matter they had been speaking of. and suddenly Mrs. Har- court answered â€" "The more we trust one another the better we shall understand each .otherâ€" in every thing, Dorcas. Be sure of .that." "I am siui'e of it." Dorcas replied, quickly. On some days the,y talked together a great deal. and Mrs. Harcourt's talk soon came to have a great charm for the country-bred girl, for it Was quiet, but yet clever, full ol point and high Iweeding â€" very un- like the sort of talk that she was used to. she sometimes rather sadly thought. "If I tried for a hundred years I could never imitate her. nor acquire her manner. No wonder she thinks that I am no fit wife for Frank," she often said to herself. The elder woman used to tell her sitories of the world in which she lived, and it seemed to Dorcas so far away from her world â€" so unlike it â€" so separated from it. "Could I ever lake my place there ?" she would often think. "Would the.v not al- ways see that I was not one of them, and look down upon me. and make Frank ashamed ?'• (To Be Continued.) POOH MR. TIFF. •Ts there anythttg in the paper?" asked Mrs. Till of her husband, vho had been mouolJoliii:;; the •hlveninj Bugle.' •No," replied Mr. TW. "It seems to me that you are taking a long time to read nothing. Suppoee you hand it to me; per- hav>K I can lind something in it." "Well, here is souinthing which may interest .vou. A U2au I'efused to pay his wife's funeral expenses, and the undertaker .sued him for the money. The court decided that a liusbaud must pay for his wife's burial. l>hat do you think of taking a case like that to coiirt 'I" "I should think the mean man ought to be ashamed of himself," declared Mr."*. Till, emphatically. "So should I," astjcjjted Mr. TilT. "The idea of a man not wanting to pay for his wife's ^^neral '. I ."should have thought he would have been perfectly delighted to " "John Henr.y Tilf, what are you sa.ving ?" Jeuianded the gentleman's wife.' "Oh. of course. I didn't mean that, you know. I mean that he sAould consider it a sacred duty to give hia wife respectable burial, and pay for the same cheerfully " "Mr. Tiflf, do you really mean that he â€" that you. for instance, would pav my funeral expenses cheer- fully ?" "That isn't exactly what I mean, my dear. You don't understand what I am tr.ving to say." "I understand perfectly what you are saying. Mr. Tiff. You tell ma that yoxi wish I were dead : that .you would pay my funeral expenses choerfully; that you would be per- fectly delighted to have the oppor- tunity â€" 'perfectly delighted' wer« your words'. .lohn Hemy Tiff, and I think you are a wicked man." "Oh. now. look here." protesteid Mr. TitT, "you know very well that what I said wouldn't bear any such construction ii you weren't so ready . all tho time to find occasion to scold me." "You needn't try to defend your- .self, for you can't do it. You said you'd Uiink that a man ought to be delightad to hav^e fJie chance to pay for his wife's funeral. It's enough te make any solf-resi:)ecting womiui go and commit s.uicide. so it is. And I'd go. too. much to your satisfac- tion. Oh, wh.v. oh, wh.v, did I eve* tJiink that I could lovo such a wretch as you ?" At this point Mrs. Till burs-t Into tears, and Mr. Tiff put on his liat and Walked out of the house. •ooa find it out; if you arc not. try- i could not touch nor her love com- ing will not make you so â€" and wo | fort him, though she had been his will keep apart. At tho best I am not i faithful wife for one and twenty .going to make a mart.vr of you. 1 | years. â- ^â- 1 To prav« to rra that Dr. 01 l^kA Chase'i Otnttuot isaoartsin â-  ^â- 113X1 '^'"' iklxolate oora for etkob â-  â- â- ^^^If and every fortn of Itchias, bleadiuff »nil pro^^rudlnr plloi, th* inairafaotTinra bar* jniarastct^a it. 3so tea. timonial* ta tk* imSy unw and uk ranr nelBh- koM what tk«r tbtaik ortt. You can uiia it aod (st ronriBfmw back U apt cured. 60oabox,at all daalKa ar 9diia!««on,Batk3 k Co., Toronto; Dr. Chase's Ofntment pause her color rose a little, and she looked Into the other's face, and "Are you content to let me stay?" she asiked. "Quite content," Mrs. Harcourt answered, with a half smile. "I am a great deal too well olt with you to wish to be alone again." For a day or two she had ad- dressed the girl as "Ml.ss Trelaw- ney;" then, without any remark, she Indicatio ns of NerÂ¥e Trouble. study These Symptoms and see If You Are in Need of the Great Nerve Restorative Dr. Chase's Nerve Fo od. Rcsttess, languid, weak and wearv. no life, no energy, tired all the time, throbbing, palpitating heart, heart asthma, sleepless nights, sudden startings, monlng languor, hot flushes, brain fag. inability to work or think, exhausption on exertion, general nun\bnes.s. doat all over, cold hand,'* and feet, flagging oppotitc. slow digestion, food heavy, easily excited, nervous, muscles twitch, .strength fails. IremVilmg bands and limbs, un- steady gait, limbs puff, loss of flesjh.losa of muscular power, irritable, despontlcnt, hysterical, cry or laugh at anything, settled mclu'.icholia. siteadv decline, complete l ro.stration. Mrs. Clinc, 49 Canada .street, Hamilton, stales -.â€""For a number of years I have b.wn a fiioat siilTcrer from nervou.9 headache and nervous (Jjrapepsia. I had no ap^>etile. and my whole nervous s.vrtoni sreined weak and exhausted. I ha\-e found Dr. Cha.w's Nerve Food very helpful. It seeircil to go right to the teat of trouble, relieving tho headache. Improving di){ostion and toning up the sy.stcin generaHj'." Mrs. Svmons. 42 St. Olair street, Belleville. Ont., utates :â€" "Some weeks iiRo I began a cohjbo of treat- ment with' Dr. Chase'» Nerve Food, and found it a very satisfactory m-.>dich-.e. 1 W;i.s forinorly troubled with nervous exh«u.<nion and a weak, fluttering heart. Whenever my heart bothered me I would have spells of woakncss and dizziness, which wore very di.stre.s.sing. ll.v incans of this Ireatnient my nerves have become strong and healthy, and the action of my heart sceins to be rrgiiUir. I can recommend Dr. Ch«.'<e's Nocv* food as (Ik excellent medicine." Pr, CliaH'a Nerve Food. 50 cokta a box, at ail doalers, or Eklmanson, Dales & Co.^ Toron':o, HOT WEATHER AILMENTS. Careful Mothers Should Keep at Sand the Keans to Check Ail- ments That Otherwise May Prove Fatal. When the weather Is hot the sands of the little life are apt to glide away before you know it. You can't watch the little one too care- fully at this period. Dysentery, diarrhoea. cholera iu£d.ntum and di.s>orders of the stomach are alarm- ingly frequent during the hot moist weather of the suuuner months. At the Qrst sign of any of these, or any of the othei; ailments that afflict lit- tle ones, give Baby's Own Tablets. These Tablets will speedily relieve amd promiptly cure all hot weather ailments. Keep them in the house â€" their prompt use may save a pre- cious little life. Mrs. Herbert Burn- hraB, Stflith's Falls, Out., aays :â€" "When my eldest child was six weeks old he had an attack of chol- era infantum and was at death's door. My doctor advi.sed^ me to u.sa^ Baby's Own Tablets, and in twenty- four hours baby .wa.s better; the vomiting and purging ceased and he i~egaincd strength rapidly. 1 have used the Tablets for other ailments of ohildren since and alwa.vs vvitli the happiest results. I can sincerely i"ocomnoend them to mothers as a ine<licliie that should always be kept in the house." Little omcs thri've, are good na- tured and grow plump and ros.v in homes where Baby's Own Tablets are ui-ed. Children take them us readily as ca.nrfly. and cru-^hed to a powder the.v can b« given to the youngest infant with the best re- sults. Sold at drug stores or you can get them pot-t paid at 25 cents a bo.x b.v vriting direct to The Dr. Williams' Modlcliic Co.. Brockville, Ont., or Schenectady, N.Y. PINtJ-PONt:, N'OT PUGILISM. "I called on Perkins last, even- ing." remarked Mr. Brown. "Did you have a pleasant time ?" inquired Mrs. Brown. "Very. Perkins was beating his wife when I w^ent in." "What ?" "I siaid Perkins was beating his wife ; but. of course, he stopped whan I went in." "Well, I .sliould hope so." 'T begged him to go on, but said some other time would do well." "You begged hint to go on ?" "Why, yes : I didn't want spoil the fun. you know." "Oh. you brute !" | "Eh ?" "Do you mean to sa.y that .vou could have looke* calml.y on whiU he beat his wife ?" "Certainly ! Wh.v not ':'" "I thought you had at least a spark of manhood left. I sripposfl you will bo beating mo next '.'" "Yes. I think I could if you would pla.v ping pong with me." "Play ping pong '?" "Yes:. That is what Pei-kfns his wife were doing." "You horrid brute !" he as to and â€" ♦- FOWUEUtED ILEUHINGS NOW. I-'l.sh-jiowrler is tho ver.v latest ad- dition to the list of food,-, and it is said b.v pli.vsicians to bo the best and nio.sl nutritive food-product in coTidon.«iOd form that bus been discov- ered. It can bc^iiade in the home, with ver.v litllo trouble and expense. Any kind of fresh tu<h will do. First steam I hem in their own moi.sturc. then, after cooling and drying the mass obtained, expo.se it lo the air! for n ^ hort time. The next .step t i.s to shn^l the lish. iind then treat j it to a bath of alcohol and citric j acid, that .all fat. glui>. and mineral ; matter is removed. Aftf^r drying, it ; must be again boiled. dri?d. and | ground. The result is a kind of; meal or flour, which cun be utilired j in a givat variet.v of wa.v.''â€" O-s, for | in.stanci^. mixin.g in .'soups, frying o.v- j stcrs. iind making oniolots | There are no Itss than vV-<>'2 d^f- | fereiit .species of lish inhabiting the NKDDY DR.\GGED A BIT At a prominent railway station it Ii-el.xnd a farmer was waiting for t train, which a doiike.v he had pur- aliased. On the arrival of the train at the station ho asked the g-uai-d where he .should put the donke.y. 'T^^^ guard, who was in a hurry, .said : "Put it behiiKl." inonning that h« ought to put It In a horse-box, whicH was at the rear of the train. The Irishman, not knowing tlw use of horao-bo.\es. tied the donkcj to the butler, and then got into th« carriage himself. Soon the train f.itartcil. and er« Ionic was rumiing at a .s-peod of ovei litty miles an hour. Turning to t conii'iuiion. I'at .•^ilid : "Shure. Moike. won't Noddy bf footing it n<iw '.'" SCOTCH. One of the French mail ."^teouieii cnllins In at Uio it- .Janeiro, bavins a slight dorangeuient of the iimchiii- ery in tlio eiigim; room, sent for th« repress ntnlive of an engineering .'iru on .shore to give some help in tht necessary repairs. 'the representatl\e had no knowl- edge of Kronoh. but could converse I freely in the Portigue.se lanj;Uiigo # The chief eiiginoer of tJiO' linor, on the oilier si'Jo, knew a ffttle Spani.Mh but no Portuguese. l;\x7>laniitions, under the circujinatances. were i tride confu.'.od, luilil the si'/.ore en- gineer, in do.spuir. •.•xclainied : â-  Koch, sirs", tliis is a di-eich .job I wisii ye kert a few v.oi<fs in bruid Scotch." "1 hev ye iioo, ma fioond." ri-pli'Hl the chief engineer ; "t hev yo noo.'' MotJicr (reprovingly to little gir .iust ready to ro for a walk)- 'Doll.v. that hole wn.^ not in you alers of Anserica north of the Isth- | Rlove tJiis morning. ' Dolly (promjM Uiua of Panama. ily)â€"' 'Where 'Waa it, then, juamma?'