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___Tâ€"â€"â€" w tELv. , n 7‘ . a. A CHA l’Tl-ZR XLâ€"A DA‘isv-Cuiix. - Hell is full of good meanings and good wish- es : but Heaven is full of good “'Ol'ka. : The days passed over and wore into ' Weeks, and still Major Dennis never went| into L'hertsey town a-foot. He rode and drove a good deal and was more variable than usual in his temper, in fact. his servant Judge confided to a friend his opinion that _ his master Was either in the devil's own: mess about something or else that he was; vetting ready for an attack of I). '1‘. But. or a time nobody else hit the nail so fairly on the head as did the ignorant and stolid batman! To all the other persons with: whom he was connected at that time the Major was a complete enigma! He told more stories and what was worse older ones than ever, he laughed at them with a loud and boisterous assumption of mith which was as unreal as it was uumusicalâ€"hc was , more uncertain than ever in temper and as a matter of course, his wife became more not" vans and wan and Jack Trevor made greater efforts to make her life somewhat endurablc to her. i It must he confessed that Jack Trevor“, was a good deal puzzled at this time. Heg had felt from the beginning that Ethel'si husband was somewhat. of a brute, that he was not the husband she ought to have had, that the girl was unhappy and that her life . had been ruined in every way. But now‘ there was something goiu on which he. could not and did not unt erstand. Andi after about a week of hard thinking over! the situation, he tried an experiment. by way of making observations on the result. I It happened one day that M rs. Dennis had been in her little garden tending her flowers. The snunuer was fast wearing into autumn, but her borders were still bright and gayl and by dint of daily attention showed nol signs of decay. While she was there, Jack l Trevor happened to come past (and it was i really wonderful to see how, at this time, his daily duties and pleasures did happen to take him past the Dennises but) and seeing her he stopped and stayed lounging on the railing to talk to her. “ You look awfully pale, Ethel,” he re- marked presently. “Oh !I have been moving about in the sun,” she answered flushing up into quite a. brave show of roses. “ The fact is you don’t get half exercise enough,” he said, “ you ought to get a good sharp walk every dayâ€"you’re positively j pining for want of fresh air.” . “ Eliâ€"what?" said a. voice behind him. Jack turned round and Ethel looked up’to find the Major standing beside him. Jack I explained. ' “ I've been telling Mrs. Dennis, Sir,” he saidâ€"â€"â€"“ that she doesn’t get half enough exercise. She ought to have a good long walk every day.” ' I “ And you’re quite right,” answered the Major promptly. ‘ “ Then," cried Ethelâ€"5‘ do let us all go for a good long walk right. over the Common and through the wood. 0h ! I should enjoy it soâ€"â€"do, Cosmo.” A “ 1? Oh ! I’d rather not.. Iâ€"Iâ€"-â€"’m not up to a long tramp to-day. But Trevor will be glad enough to tuke=you I daresayâ€" eh, Trevor?” - . - I “ Why, of course, I shall,” returned Jack cheerfully. , . l , “ No, you come too, Cosmo,”,Ethcl urged. “ Nonsense â€"ll011$CllSOjâ€"" he replied with his coarse laugh, “ you'll enjoy yourself an itch better without incâ€"you know what the. . proverb says about ‘ Two 5 company,’ don’t you '.' (lo and get your hat on at once.” She gave him one rcpraachful look as she went iii-doors, but he onl ' treated it as a joke and invited the subaltern to go in also. “Come in, Trevor, conic inâ€"I’ll tell you what it is, mv boy, you take my advice, never act marriedâ€"Avomenare queer cattle to deafwith, you never know when you have ’em. llalf the women I know would be only too glad to be given a free hand but‘â€"â€"â€"â€"" and then he broke off short and picked up a card which Jack Trevor had put quietly down on the table nearest the doorâ€"“Good (:od 2" he muttered umlcr his breath. “Then you do know ‘Mademoiselle Val- erie," was Jack’s comment to himselfâ€"~“By .l ovc, 1 never thought I should fetch you like that.” ' ‘ ' At that moment Judge entered the room bringing brandy and soda which seemed to be a necessary accompaniment to the Major where ever he happened to be. “Who has been here to-day, Judge 2‘" he asked. “No one, Sir.” “.\rc you sure ‘3" “0h ! yes, Sirâ€"«I'vebeencleaniug the win- dows and tidying the garden, and about the place since morning." “ Where did you get your dinner?” “I hada bit of dinner with the servants, sir," in an apologetic toneâ€""Iwas very busy at dinner-time and ------ ” y “ 0h '. it's all right vâ€"I don't mindâ€"that will do,"said the Major in a tone of dismiss- al. Then he looked at the card againâ€"J‘va I wonder how the devil that card got here,” he liltlitt‘l‘t‘tl~â€"“ Uh ! here's my wife. Have you had a visitor this morning Ethel 3” “ No --~-\\'hy ‘3" " lit-camel found this card on the table." showing it to her, not a little to Jack's ad- inimtion. “ .\lademoiselle Valerie," Ethel read, lociâ€":â€" ing at the curd still in his lund. “ No, itwas not for me. 0h 1 l dun-say it was some dress- inukcr in the town or perhaps a woman can~ vaSs‘iug for an illustrated Bible or book of travels. They were always coming at Edin- burgh, you know." “Ah 1 I shouldn't wonder," said the Major with a breath of relief. “And they are such a nuisance," Ethel went on. “I had better tell Judge not. to let Mademoiselle Valerie in if she honours me again." “Yesâ€"much the best plan," with great mtisfaction. “Well now, are you going to start? liriug her back safe, Trevor, and don't let her get overtired." “All right, Sir-I'll take care of her," Jack replied. Major Dennis followed them to the gate and watched them well awavâ€"â€""l wonder how the devil that woman's CQI‘Il camethere?" he muttered under his breath. “Dress-mak- erwa canvusscr for l‘uibles and books' Noâ€" no! Besides it's her writing, I should know it among a thousand. chu" looking at it againâ€"“it‘s her writing, sure enoughâ€"sure enough." Looking at the card, however, would not ' place. T'ED’DED. Story of Romance and-Adgenture. solve the mystery and at last Major Dennis l \rent within doors and changed his uniform he 5,,in between us: . for plain clothes, when he settled down in for ML a. comfortable chair with a. newspaper and a plpff. “ ’Pou my word, I don't know why the thought of that woman should make me so infernally nervoua, but I always did hate her, always. 1 ho â€"she‘s capable of anythingâ€"anythingâ€" and I don't want that kind of scandal to get afloat ! Confouud it, she has spoilt this billet completely for meâ€"I expect I shall have to throw up my commission and get 'rid of her by moving about from place to I should hate it though, I always did hatebeing unsettled. And yet if she per- sists in dogging my footsteps hereâ€"why, life won’t be worth having, not at that price at all events.” lie picked up his newspaper and began to read and presently he forgot the my- sterious visiting-card and after a time, he dropped asleep. . . Meantime, Mrs. Dennis and Jack Trevor had trumped away over the Common in the direction of the woods which lie between Uhertsey and -that country house which rejoices in the nane of Highilight. They had got rather more than half way over the Common, and were approaching a prettyggrove of trees which-grew about a hillock or abit of rising ground. A little streamlet ran close by and made the soft and mellow Autumn air alive with its music. A rough seat had been “placed under one of the largest trees, a poplar, and as J ack Trevor’s eyes fell upon it he suddenly bethought him- self, that they had come a good way and that Mrs. Dennis might like a rest. “Are you tired, Ethel? W ould yOu like to . rest it little ‘3“ he asked. "Yes, I should. rather, although I’m not really tired," she answered. “What a. nice scarier an out? of the wuy,lplace llkCy this.” “And so near this little brook,” said J ac]; smiling ;,“now if we only had a rod here we could do a little fishing and fancy ourselves back in the neutral. ground between the Palace and the Clifl'c again. I wonder if I have abit of string in my pocket?” Henumagcdtofindmhree little coils- of string, which ashe told Ethel, he. had shov- ed into'r‘his pocket that afternoon after open;- ing a parcel from Town, and with this tied '~ on to the end of his walking-stick and a bent pin secured to the end of the string, he eon- triveda .very respectable fishing-rod and with a worm dug up with his pocket-knife, he began to fish in the little brook with as much contentment as if he .had got' his best rod with him and had the privilege of whip- ping the best preserved waters in England. “Not the hint time we have made shift with a bit of string and a bent pin‘, is it?” he said to her, and Ethel Dennis laughed tit the‘rcmembmnce as she had been used to laugh in her childhood but as- she' never laughed inou‘ eXceptinngicn ‘she was ' alone with Jack Trevor. : For a long title they sat therefhe on the bank and she on the clumsy seat, watching the floatâ€"yes, he had contrived a float; out ofapiccc of dried wood -â€"idly bob up and ‘down in the limpid wgteir. \f“()ur.cliuuco; of a fish is rather remote,” laughed Jack when about ilialf an hour had 'gone by ; then looked upat herâ€"“ Ethel what are you doing '1" i “I'm going to makea daisy chain,” she answered gail . g , “ A daisy'lc iain,” be repeated; “ and how many “years is'ii'i, pray, since you made a" daisy-chain?” " . i« 1 ' . “ M6113" than I like‘to think about,” she said quickly. “ It makes. me feel quite aged to try to realize it, Jack. -Rcach‘ me yhose big daisies beside you, there’s a. good Joy.” .z j - . ‘ ‘ t . Hereached Out his handmuljgathered the- daisies to which she had pointed and held them out to her. . And as she took them from him the sleeve slipped back from her slender wrist ahdisliojvcd the white flesh marked by a." long livid bruise. Trevor caught her hand and pushed the white sleeve still further backâ€" . , , “ “'hat is that?” he. asked bluntly. “ \thrc did you get that binise, Ethel '2" She started and tried to draw her hand (mungâ€"f Itjisnothhigfâ€"fCosmd-474 it; i ‘f Hood God,”w hcxmnrst 'out-.-â€"“.(lo‘ you. mean to say he knocks you about, that ho ill-uses youâ€"â€" oh '. my darlingâ€"anydarling," and then be bent his hundsoxnd yoiihghead and covered the little «slender bruisedyvrist 'flIe use of pretending that it is not so ‘3 int with passionate k isses. .. . . 1 She tried to‘push his theiid’away,‘ the lit.th daisies fell to the ground between them and thc‘ make-shift fishing-rod went floating away down the little stream. “Jack,” she said in 1a pained .\;oi3-.e,_.,‘.‘ it); not sobad as. .. you think. lC‘osmo has never struck me or anything of that. sort, never. Butlast night. he “he caughtat my arm to steady himself andâ€"«and he does not know himself that he bruisedit." She was ashamed to have to make such a Confession and yet :ahe was obliged to say that much because the conclusion to which hehad jumped on seeing the wrist was far worse than the reality. However, it was too late to keep him from speaking now the floodgates were opened. the. pent-up feelings of disgust and irritation against Major D;nnis which ha'l‘becn snioulderinngr many wcekshad, all in u mrhnent, been fanned into a dame, and u llamc. you know, more parti- cularly a flame oil'n‘c. is not to be rut out in a moment by a single wordâ€"at least Ethel Dennis was not .in a .mind to say the fe\v words which Would have quenched it there and then for ever. lie. pulled himself up on to the seat be~ side her stillekceping her hand a prisoner within his own. “1 never meant to tell you," he said, “I’swear I did not. Don't be angry with me, Ethel. I was surprised into itvvvyes, I was indped. I have been strugglmglaguinst it ulmbst ever since you came to C crtsey, but the sight of vour dear little bruised wrist was too much. for me: dear little patient wrist,” he ended, then bent and kissed it tenderly again. “Don't, Jack," she whispered. “\Vc ought to have been married, you and I, Ethel." he'weut on, stilllholding her hand. “We were always such friends, right from the beginning. What could your mother have been thinking of to sell you for the chance of a title and a few thousands a year-nit can make no difference to be: whether you can have one horse or a pair -but it makes a difference of life and death asked. . it is for worse, it might be. much worse M to you, and the difl'erence between hell and heaven to me." , j “I must'go,” she cried in a stricken voicé. "I ought not to listen to thisâ€"it can do no good, no good. Let us goâ€"let me‘go-â€"â€" ome." But Trevor held her closer prisoner than , before. “It am do good," he cried. “Let me say everything that must sooner or later Let us have it out once It will show us where we stand. 3 Why should you go home '3 You“are much j happier here. " “I am not happy anywhere," she burst out ‘ "No, but you could be," he rejoined.‘ _ pe to Heaven she won't. “ , . V j _ get hold of Ethel and harm her in any way fry“? so happ-v' so happy “lay i It is useless trying to es- eape our fate. If Ihad found you witha husband worthy of you, who was good to you, who loved you, I would have stifled my own feelings under my feet, you should never have known that I had any thought but the mercst friendship for you. But I when I find you sad, neglected, unhappyq with your dear eyes always full of fear for; what may happenâ€"when I find you pale; and wan, the very shadow of yourselfâ€"nay. i when I find you with your tender flesh, bruised and blackened by the cruel lingers ‘ of a drunken brute, I cannotbe expected to i be silent. Icannot be silentâ€"I am only ‘human, after all." . “But what is the good of speaking sl 5 “My dear one," he answered, taking her other hand also in his and looking down into her troubled eyesâ€"“ you were forced into marrying a man whom you could not loveâ€"â€" he is and always has been a. brute' to youâ€" he makes your very life a burden. Is that not so '2 Well, I love youâ€"I am not a new friend, a fair-weather lover ;you have known me all ourlives and you know that you can trust me while we both live and‘as long as .\ e both live. 7 \Vhy should you go-on beaZr- ing this life of wretchedness and misery ‘2 It is not as if your gouig would hurt your lins- baudâ€"he will not mind itfhe has long ago grown tired-ofyou.” .- . ' I, ,, L . '. “ How do you know? ” she said, scarcely abovea whisper.‘ ' ' “ Who is Mademoiselle Valerie?” he asked. " ’ ' ’ ' " “ Jack l ” _ V . ' “ \Vhy was the Majbr in such a fever‘to know where that card came from? I will tell you where it came from, Ethel. About a week before, I picked that card up at your gate, one day when I had seen you and the Major go oil~ in the xdog-cart together. Yoii” liad' the'briiwfr horse. ""Do you ‘i’ém'einf her '2” : , . ’ ' ‘ ‘ f“ I remember.” 7 . W, “ I wondered where it had come from, and to-day I put it down on a little table as Iwent into your room just to see if the Majorknew anything about her. If -you had seen him pick it ,up and heard his ‘ Good God.’ 1151 did, you would have guess- ed who ‘ Mademoiselle Valerie ’ isâ€"â€"” ' “ I did guess,” she broke inâ€"” Ihave known for a long time that there were others.” = ' ' ‘ _ 1 “ Then what binds you to him '2” Jack cried. "‘ There are other lands far better to live in than this._ If he divorccs- you, I will marry 'ou the first day. .that it can be legally doneâ€"if he does not I will settle every fat-thing I have in. the world upon you and be a pensioner upon your bounty for even”. , 1 ‘ .. . . ~ 9‘ You mean that we should go away?“ “ Yes.” “'1‘0gethcr?" I: “ Yesâ€"togcfher. ' Oh', Ethel, only think of it.” "‘ I can’t think of it.” _“ \Vhy notâ€"oh ! ,why not? I would make you so liappy,'I swear I would.” . ‘.‘ You would try, I know, J ackâ€"but you. would never succeed. am not the kind of woman to liveiliappily under a cloud, 1 should be more_\vrctohed“than I am now, and very soon you would be wretched too. Noâ€"no~Jack,‘ it cannot be. I married Major Dcnnis'for better or worse, and though A r thanjit-is. I Would rather goon as Ia’m-lâ€" liféis'hard enough but I can-hold *up'my head among the best yet.” Ho no longer held her hands hard in his and she 'drew them gently away. For some minutes he Sat‘staring thoughtfully" into the little dancing stream‘at their feet, then turned eagerly back to her again. “Tell me one tliiiig, Ethel,” he said~“aud, tell me tvulv, won’t you ‘1” , “I will.” “You do love me ‘3" , _ '. She raised her eyes to his, so true and-blue they: were he- e'ould have kissed .them a . thousand times had hc‘dared to do it. ‘ -“I will be quite honest," she said, “ I do love you with all my heart. \Vhat is ,ifit will not help me to keep stiaight and true tiff myself, why neither your love nor mine is of any real good to either of us.” "()h ! Ethel, my darling," hebegan, when she put out her hand and stopped him. “Yes,â€"Iknow just. .what .you would say... but I do suffer. I do have to struggle hard to go on ailiv’ing'nt ,,a_ll."VI know that I am right to say no. ' ' Jack, dear, it is so good of you to wish to make me‘.‘.happy«Islam-err knows I have need of love from someone: , hit let us be patient-me can always be frinnds, always the best of friends.” “I ask for bread and you give meastonc," he. said bitterly. “ llut you will not refuse the stone,” she said imploringly. “No, I will take all that I .can get,” he answered wistfully. She drew a longbreath of relief. “I have not had much experience of man---â€"I think i only know Cosmo intinmtely-â€"but I have read much, and in books men always quarrel and are angry with women who won‘t run away with them. Iain very glad you are not going to quarrel with me, Jack." l'le bent and kissed her little hand again .J‘My dear love," he said tenderlyâ€"“Shall I quarrel with you because of the very qualities which have made me love you more then any other woman in the world ‘3 Noâ€"noâ€"that would be foolish» childish." “I am gladâ€"so glad," she murmuredâ€"-“l have an idea, Jack, that it will all come right between us some dayâ€"~if not here, then elsewhere." CHAPTER XIIâ€"Bmwuss Rion'r AND W nose. Pray for the living. in who-‘c breast. The struggle between rightand wrong :15 raging terrible and strong. The sun was sinking low down in the west“ when Trevor and Mrs. Dennis reached the cam again. “ won't go in," he said when they reached ~. , , the gate : but Ethel protested vigorously against thioplan. J‘Ohg do come iiiâ€"Comm" will ask fifty questions and frame: ., answer them allâ€"I cannot: I feel as if Ihad committed udread~ ful crime and that my face Would betray me at once. You mus: come in, Jack, you ' must." I ‘ ' . . ' = Thus urged, Trevor had little or no choice in the matter and he lelowesl her into the pretty little sitting room where they found ' the Major. if the truth be told, just uwaken- I ed from a long slee ). ‘ “Weil,”.he callet out apparentlv in the : most boisterous of good spiritsâ€"“have you ‘ had a good time? Where did you go? Did you seeanyone you knew!“ I b _ v I think that nobody knew what it cost Jack Trevor to make a civil and coherent reply to these questions~but for Ethel’s sake he did his best, tired and overset by the events of the after. noon. 0 “ \Ve went across the Common, sir, to the knollâ€"and we made a fishing rod. By ‘ y knowing that she was . thebye, Ethel, I left my stick behind me." " No," said Ethel- â€"and though she tried hard to keep the gladness out of her voice. she (lid not. succeed very wellâ€"“now you speak of it, do you knowI saw it go floating awaydown the little stream. What. a pityâ€" was it. one you valued very much ‘3" “ Not a bitâ€"it was only a common black~ thorn. “'ell, sir, we made a fishing-rod and tried our luck in. the not very promising . stream.” l ‘ ‘ ' . “ And you caught nothing I suppose?" “ We caught 'no fish,” returned Trevor promptly. “ Ah ! I suppose not. “'ell, Ethel, I hope you feel better for theJtramp." “Yes, but I am tired," she said. “ Then I will say good bye,” said Trevor holding out his hand to her. ‘ “ \Von’t you stop and have some dinner with us ‘3’.’ put in the Major. ‘ . ,_ V “Not to-night, thank you, Major,” Trevor answered, “I must write several letters be- fore dinncr-time. {iced-bye." ' ' - ~ He held out his hand to Ethel and gave it for a moment, then dropped her eyes, but not until he had read there something which brought an answering light to his. “He’s a. very decent fellow,” remarked the Major a moment later as he watched Trevor close the littie gate and go across the open ground towards his own quarters. . His wife escaped from the room without answering and had reached the safe retreat of. her bedroom before he noticed that he was lone. . Once there she tossed off her hat and a significant pressure. She looked up at him \‘n I k“°“' is “1‘” the “WW kl‘UWlng“ 0f .gown and slipped on a loose and voluminous ‘ safthlds from her throat to her feet.' Then affair of pale blue woollen stuff which fell in she sat down inn. chair by ‘the window to think it all overâ€"this wonderful new state of affairs which had made all her life so new and different to'lier. ‘ because Trevor had fancied " that 'she' was very tired and that sheiwas utterly” quot-set; but in truth although she was tired; shewas more happy that she had ever known: what it wastobe since those never forgotten days at Blankha‘mption when shehnd Jack-hall been devoted friends and playfellows. For after all Jack loved her! In spite of their having been kept apart all these years, in spite'of the baraier which lay between them, in spite‘of lier brokcn'nerves, her changed looks, her wretched life, beloved her still, just as he 'had 'done years and years age. She felt now that she, was strong and Lrave, thabshe could gothrough with any' trials’ or troubles that might- be coming to her, secure in the. bleased knowledge that there was one to whom "she would' always be young and fresh and \loyel V, one of whose life she would. always be tlievaun, of whose ‘ dark. days she would be the shining starhvhich would never set, for him on earth. . She felt that she- did net even mind now those . qualities of her husband which had jarred on her over ' hour of the day, which had gone nigh tolireaking her heart. She pushed back the loose sleeve'from the arm which Major Dennis had bruised the previous night and looked tenderly at the blue and livid mark. “‘I don’t-minditnow,” she whispered, and then she pressed her lips where his had been in the first horror of his discovery ofit'. A servant came to say. that dinner was awaiting her, and she rose and went to the little tiny dining-room feeling us‘if she were going to sit in a palace. What an alchemist, Love is ! The room was so small that it but just held the table and four chairs, there was no pretence atany. other furniture” diut to Ethel that night, it was like a great ban- quettting hall and the simple dinner a feast. For Jack loved herwduck loved hcrâ€"~and the very airscemed alive with the wonder- ful fact. ' ' ' I daresity some critic will take occasion to picach a little sermon on this text and ex- piain to my readers-and to me, for my future guidance, that it was exceedingly wrong for a married woman tohave any such feeling for a man who was not hcrhusband. \\'ell. l have not said anywhere, to the best of my remembrance, that it was rigliteâ€"l have not held up'my dear little misguided heroine as a pattern of wifcly goodness at all. l only say that the events which came into her life did happen. and my readers must take the worth. - It seems to me such a mistake that those who have a story to tell should be urged to paint their heroines in colours so delicate and so spotless that they have no resem- blance to the human women whom we meet out in the world of everyday life. Uf course a woman of blameless reputation is a beauti- ful thing, and a woman of Mann/I lifr is more beautiful still. Yet in awaiding the measure of blame or praise to those who have sinned or kept themselves unspotted from the world, I do think the circumstances of the. ease ought to be taken a little into consideration. llut the critic seldom, if ever, takes any- thin" into consideratiodâ€"hc seems to tar as whofe with the same brush, a woman must either be good or bad, block or white. l should really like to know how it would be possible to please these exceedingly Captions people. For instance, if I drawn soldier as a goo-l- lookinc, well-groomed animal, honest and agreeable. if not very bright of wit, then I am told by one critic after another that mv soldiers are angels without wings and the whole story just too good to be true. The next time, I draw a man who slanderu a woman who has boldly stepped in between him and a umrried woman whom he loves. Then up rises a powerful critic on a great daily paper and discourse: virtuously on my sins and wickedness in thus holding up the whole of the British Army too probriuui '. I do as: my but I think that I did nothing of In, .. ‘ I] ., u , f 1,, 1 v . . Raglan. She isor was a magnificent vr-sel its oi} oi tun that. 3 or \t m t it) .ut.\“I HHS tum, rpgismp. “ml “"13. yum. “a,” #__,__.__â€"â€"â€"â€"- .._.«' " thevkind, that I certainlv held’bpfimc evil man to the world, and if that man happened .tobe a soldier and; thomugldy "him to * at the same time, why thdt is fault at not mine. So the next time I want in???“ a lover who is not a picach of $11 the vir tea; I make‘him quite‘a harmless character, his only sin being that he suggests in u, vary hesitating way to the. girl he loves that they shall dispense with the marriage ceremony. I did not like doing this~â€"l would rather have married them off happily at first. But I wanted to show what at good and brave girl who really loved the. mun with all hex heart, would do under such circumstances I lint how the critics howled over that story â€"une (a ladylpwant so‘fur as to write me a letter telling me that she had been asked to lselect a few books for a young girl of cigh~ teen to read on a long vo 'uge. She knew that the girl loved my stories. but she roan. lutcly put this one away because of 'thc im~ morality of 'a man suggesting to (rgirlrthut they should dispense with marriage, owin ' to the fact that he knew his grandfather hail left him all his property conditionally on his being unmarried at the time of his death. I did not answer the letter, what was the good? But I have said “God help the poor young girl of.cighteen" very many time: since theii. Forniyself. I have. no admira- tion for the purity which is pure only be- cause it has no opportunity to be nuythin - else. Give me the gold that has been tricil in the lirc ‘. So I do not ask ‘you to accept Ethcl lldn- his as my ideal of perfection ; .1 only ask you to take her for what. she is, a girl with good instincts and, thus far, a ruined life -~-a girl to whom that afternoon, sitting in the sweet September sunshine beside the little brook, there came the most cruel and the most sweet temptation that Providence could per- mit or the ingenuity ofrdcvil devise. 1 do not hold her up as doing right. I daresay she ought to havecut herself oil'frou‘. Trevor forever, she ought to have been insulted»â€" hurtâ€"angry ! “'ell, perhaps, I do not know. All I can say is -.hat she was not, Trevor’s love served to give her strength to go on living the life which up to that day had been almost intolerable to her. (To BE' cox'rixrun.) Another Englishman Heard From. A Calgary, N. \V. T. ,. subscriber forwards a copy of the Calgary Herald, from which we take the following :â€",â€"A‘ young gentleman who lately. left his home in Eng‘and, having exhausted his credit telegraphed to his parents : "‘Your son “'alter was killed this morning by affalling "‘chimney. What shall we dc with the remains ‘3”. In reply a cheque was sent for £20, with man pocketed themoney and liud an elalmt‘~ ate spree. \thn in a condition for writing he sent his father the following note : “ I have just lcarnéd that an infamous sooundrcl named Barker sent you a fictitious account- of my death, and swindled you out of £20. He also borrowed .t.'|0 frqu me and left the country. I write to inform you that I am still alive, and long to see the. parental roof again. I am in somewhat reduced cir~ eumstances, the accumulatingsofthe last live years having been lostâ€"a disastrous st0ek operation â€"-and if you would only spare mu £20 I would be ever thankful for your favor. Give my love to all.” A few days later the young man rcceivc’d the following dignified letter from his out- raged parent: “MY DEAR. SON : I have buried you once, and that is the end of it. I decline to have any transactions with a ghost. Yours in the flesh, ’ “.l’l.t£lllil’.." “my had “talkcdhome aflmost u! Sllencc\ticiequest, nnythcm llu\oungg(vntc The Cost of Atlantic Voyages. Some calculations, which would be inter- esting if they were correct, have been made as to the outlay involved by those “ grey- hound” trips across the Atlantic, of which we hear so much at this season of the year. Our cousins on the other side have come to the conclusion that an all-round journey must cost. one of the steamships from $20,000 to $50,000. This allords so wide a margin for variation as to suggest. the in- quiry whether the rest of the rcekonings are as loosely put together. We are afraid, for instance, that not much dependence is to be. placed upon the accuracy of the expenditure for coal on the outward run of the 'l‘cutonic. This Vessel is Stltl to have consumed 325 tons of \Vclsh coal a day of 1” hours, say 13000 tons for the voyage, and the cost is cal- culated at $0,000. it will be news, indm-d, to the owners, and to the South Wales rol- licry proprietors, that .L'l a ton in being paid for evcn this, the best class of ocean- goiug fuel. Perhaps the interesting I‘nll- mate that -llb of lncutis cousmned per mm- utc with an average sumuner-passengcr list if) equally valuable. ____..â€".â€".-â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" I‘earedLoss of 8. Liverpool Ship and all Hands. The gravest. fears are now entertainml concerning the very fine Liverpool ship Lord old. Sh:- left. San liraurisroas far back 243‘ the 24th of February last fru‘Quei-nstown, when: shcwas‘ calling for orders, and since her departure nothng has been lu-zml of her. The Lord lidglun is now just over 1300 days on the passage, and other vessels which left San l"ranei.~:co long after her have arrived at their destination. The vessel had a large and valuable cargo of grain. As showing the serious light in which the. safety of the veswl is reg'irdvd by underwriters, it may lw men- tioned that no reinsurain-ee (:‘in umnmml at any price. The vessel being very large had a numerous «new, and one rad featuze in connection With the VL'HnCl should she prove to have gone down-r-is‘ the fact that the captain had on board his wife and two children. The lady is the daughterof the owner of the ship. The Lord Raglan was built at Liverpool in Hull. " What Would I Be Then. Mamma ?" A little boy who was playing around a grocery store. a short time ago listened intently to a conversation in which several men wore engaged concerning a lady whom they described an a “ 'rass Widow." 0n reaching home t u: child want to his mother and asked : “ Mamma, what is a grass widow?" The mother explained by saying : “ if your 1' p1 should go away and not live with me again I should be u grams widow.” “ What would I be then, momma," asked the youngster, ” a grasshopper '2" ......._.,_.._...__.._.. . . .. .