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i i r: ‘. w i".?‘~..'> -. A 1:“ 51 yâ€"q ~_._._.4 .u- +-z«~:«z«:«z~z«z~~z~+~‘:«: : : z« n were. Manswer.M.2~.z»i-i«z«~:»z«z«z«++ lit WW? ll BfSllfl ltlll Or Lady Caraven’s Labor of :5: Love. if v ovootoovo 0'0 00:, gazezogev ~Iof‘,:._,. +034OZQ92.03.53.014pfoozc0‘40?o‘cozooo<o-<O-¢.‘<>:<oz<baooztb:fl DEO>squt.CD.O.EQ}.¢§$°> 4.30.. isoaanovpzu‘o) . . or .. no. CHAPTER 1. had passed since Lady Caravan reached Parisâ€"a strange week. She had seen but little of her husband. He never took breakâ€" fast with 11.:r ; they met at dinner, and twice he had taken her to the opma. He never interfered in least with any of her affairs. Lady (.‘araven was a:bride of a week. .Left without a mother while still in the nursery, her father had educated her in almost conventâ€"like seclusion. One afternoon, a few months before our story opens, Ar- ley Rainsonie, lawyer and lender. had A Week Lord (,‘araven. follow- ing he had announced to her that the noble. lord had done her the honor to sue for her hand, and had intimated that it was his wish that she should accept him. li‘lattered, and entirely ignorant of the ways of the world, she had fallen in with her father’s wishes wit'hout demur. A scene in Arley 'lansonie’s ofiice a short time previous to this would throw a light on this sudden and brief- courting, Besides Ransome himself, the only person present was Lord Caraven, whose prodigality had wasted his inheritance and cov- ered his ancestral home of Ravensâ€" m'ere with mortgages. "I have worked hard all my life," said Arley .liansome-J"worked as few men have ever done beforeâ€" from sunrise‘ to sunset, and often through the long, silent night. 1 have worked because I love money ~because I am ambitious: because I have had an end in view. You know On the day my lord. that beside practicing as a, lawyer t have been. and am now, a.‘ iiioneyâ€"lender; it is no news to you that. I advanced the mortgageâ€"inoâ€" may on 'llavensmere, and that, note. ‘ you pay it. the estate becomes mine. ".1 have a daughter, and she must take the place i would faiii have given to my boy. you this offer. You are man; you tell me there remains for you no hopeâ€"nothing but death. Now I will give you my life, liberty, wealth. .1 will make you greater than any of the l‘larls of Caraven have been yet. I will give my daughter a dowry of two hundred thousand pounds if you will marry her.” Lord Caraven lost his selfâ€"possesâ€" sion for one half minute; he literally looked as he feltâ€"bewildered. Then an indignant repudiation of the pro- posal sprang to his lips. He would not listen to it. But finally when he had become accustomed to the idea and realized that, his only choice was between the girl and a revolver he gave way. He promised to marry her and give her his rank, at the same he cursed himself for a- villain for wrecking an innocent girl's life. She, thinking that he loved her, and altogether ignorant of any other reason for the riage, accepted him as we know. Ile sent eVery morning to ask if she had any particular wish for that, daywii‘ there was any place she desired to see. At first she said “Yes,” and went; to the different places of note. lie accompanied her, but she could not avoid thinking that he was slightly bored by these ex‘cursions. The next time he. sent she declined, and he did not reinonâ€" strate; he made no remark, and she felt almost; sure that he was re- lieved by her refusal. When they went to the opera, they were never aloneâ€"he always secured some comâ€". panioii. It seemed to llildred that he was quite as much a stranger as on the first day he entered the Hollies. She had. existenceâ€"lie lived as though she were not. He had fulfilled his part of the contract by giving her his name, his rank, his position. That a, living. beating human heart might long for more did not occur to him. the . moneyâ€"g introduced to Ilildred,:‘ his only child, the handsome young: My lord, I make a ruined' niar- ‘ l l l i l i l l i t i I l l l l l t l l l l l t t . l l l l i l I l I l i l y l l - was 'heard the words. . indeed, no part in hisim‘lde n” married, he would have said “No.” He had paid the forfeit of his folly by being in some measureI compelled to burden himself With this young girl. At. first. he was considerably surâ€" prised iii his wife. He thought to himself that the daughter of a man like lawyer Ifansome, sharp; shrew-d, cunning, must inherit some of his propensitiesâ€"that she would occupy herself with small intrigues and maneuvers of all kinds. She did nothing,r of the sort ; she was quiet, grave, calm, selfâ€"possessed. He did not even dream of the unstirred passion and tenderness in her girlâ€" ish heart. It was decidedly tiresome having a wife. True he saw little of herâ€"for days together they sometimes did not exchange a word ; but people began to look upon‘ him as a marâ€" ried man, and he did not like itâ€" when they met him they asked how Lady Caraven was. 1 “Lady Caraven !” He smiled scornfully to himself, remembering all the fair and stately dailies who had borne that name; remembering the darkâ€"eyed girl who now bore it, he smiled in bitterest scorn. He had never been one of those men who look forward to marriage as the one great end and aim of life. it had never had any charm for him even, even in the days when he was free to dream as he would; but hisl visions had been of a. goldenâ€"haired " love, radiant. and fair, never of a girl-wife. the daughter of a man who: had, as it were, outwitted himâ€"the: child of a man who had dealt faithâ€" lesslly with him. He shud-dered at, the very thought or it. 1 He was not given to thoughtsâ€"the" rules of right and wrong had not: troubled him very much. He never' frealized that it was wrong to have married a girl he did~not likeâ€"1 wrong to leave a young wife so enâ€"' tirely alone. He never thought of those things: he only remembered! that marriage was a burden to him, that his wife s presence was some kind of mvute reproach, that he wasi a thousand times happier away from her than with her. Certainly he felt the burden less at Paris than he would have felt: it elsewhere, because there was alâ€", ways something to occupy him and distract his thoughts, there were alâ€" ‘ays some kind friends to relieve him of the ennui and tediousness of existence. One evening he was rather startled by I-Iildred. There was a favorite singer at the opera, and they went to hear her. She was very fair, and the gentlemén were busily engaged i discussing her. With Lord and Lady Caraven was a Frenchman, the Comte de Quesaic, a great admirer of fair women. The conversation, kept up chiefly between the two gbntle- men, was about the charming actress. ' “She is of real English type." Said the conitc, "and the English ladies are so fairâ€"~tliey are adorâ€" able !” “I think myself,” remarked the earl, “that n, fairâ€"haired English girl is certainly the loveliest object in: creation.” ".l‘lie cointc laughed. "You prefer the. blondes to brunettes. then ?” he said. “Certainly,” replied uLord Caraâ€" ven. “I do not see how a woman can be beautiful unless she be fair." the! He had entirely forgotten his young girlâ€"wife with the dark eyes and the Spanish face. He would not1 have Wantonly pained her, but he had forgotten her presence. She; At the time she remark, although they burned into her heart like fire. The conite went home with them, x and they were joined by another friend ; but she found an opportunâ€" ity of speaking to her husband when the other gentlemen were busy with ecarte. and Lord Caravan had with-1 did the lowest servant in the houseâ€" l bound, ile never thought. of her as his ‘ wife; the chances were that, if any, drawn to look over some letters‘ one had asked him suddenly if hot that has but arrived. She sum-l _ »v ., . 4. ..., _ .. .. . ., _. -.-. . . ' has fort egg} : the manufacturers have guaranteed it. team 3% fearâ€"e. moncd up courage and went up to him. "Lord “would you thing ‘2” He looked up in won-'derâ€"it Was so seldom that she voluntarily addres- sed him. As he looked he was slightly impressed with her appearâ€" anceâ€"the tall, slender figure was Caraven,” she mind telling me said, one draped in soft, shining silk, the girlish face was flushed with the effort of speaking to him, the dark eyes were bright and starlike, filled with unutterable thoughts. He could not help owning to himself that there was some beauty in the thick coils of dark hair, in the tall, slim, graceful figure, in the perfect grace and harmony. She was simply yet beautifully dressed; a pomegranate- blossom lay in the coils of her hair. "I want you tell me one thing,” she repeated. “lf'you admire fair girls with golden hair, why did you marry me, with hair and eyes so dark '2” She asked the question in such perfect good faith, in such earnest tones, with such sad, sweet eyes, that he Was touched, not deeply, but as he would have been had some child come to him with trembling lips to tell a pitiful tale. “Why,” she said, “if that was the case, did you marry me ?” "You know why I married you," he replied, gravelyâ€""why ask me the question '2” He saw a vivid color spread over her facp, a bright ligi‘it shine in her eyes. The simple girl thought and believed he meant that she knew he had married her because he loved her. Her heart gave a great, glad bound. He loved her ! She would understand better in time ; she would only know why he seemed re served, reticent, (fold, and indifferâ€" out. “You know why I married you,” the handsome earl had said ; and the worlds filled her heart with a. strange, sweet pain. “.1 will try to i'einen'iber, said, gently. .llull as was his ear. music in her voice. "You will remember aszked. , “1. will remember why you have married me,” she replied ; and as she went away he wondered greatly. “I should not think that she is likely to forget it,” he said to himâ€" self. “Certainly women are puzzles. She will try to remember why I married herâ€"and the words seemed like in'elting music on her lips, a. light that was like sunshine on flow- ers spread over her face ! Why, I married her because her father sold her for a title and she was willing to be sold !" To those dying with thirst. the fall of dew is a boon. ToLa'dy Caraven the earl’s few words seem- n she he heard new what ‘?” he ed full of meaning; she said them over and over again to herself, “You know why I married you.” She said them with many varieties of accent, with different intonations, and each time that she repeated them they seemed to mean more and more. For some hours she felt much happier; it was like a. break in the cold tide of indifference. She kept expecting- kinder words to follow, but they did not. Lord Caraven did not appear to remember what he had said. He. went out that evening the “little supper" was over. heard a. whisper of “billiards.” Nothing came of the one solitary gleam of kindness. The next day Hildrod did not see the earl at all; he went over to St. Cloud with some of his friends. .The slight gleam of happiness died away, and the old feeling of desolation Came back ' to her. The Comtesse de Quesne called and pressed her to go out, but the girl was sick at heart. It was such a strange lifeâ€"married after She without love, without even friendâ€" ship, or likingâ€"married, yet living with her husband as though she were the merest strangerâ€"his wife, bearing his name, sharing his fate, yet knowing no more of him than r To prove to .yon that; Dr. Chase's Ointment ls acertain and absolute cure for each and every form of itching, bleedingand protruding piles. . ~00 tes- timonials in the daily Iii-pas and ask your neiglr bore what-they think out. You can use it and get your money back if not; cured. 600 a. box, at all dealers or EDMANSON,BATES 85 Co.,Toronto. Dr. Ghase’s Gintnéent his his hold; his thoughts, his mind, plans, his desires, his interests, A Dreadful Caseâ€"Itching Almost Unbearableâ€"The Flesh Raw and Flaming. Dr. Chase’s Ointment. Mr. G. H. McConnell, Engineer in Fleury's Foundry, Aurora, Ont... states :â€"“I believe that Dr. Chase’s Ointment is worth its weight in gold. For about thirty years I was troubled with eczema, and could I was so unfortunate as to have blood poison, and this developed to eczema, the obtain any cure. V dreadful of skin diseases. “1 was so bad that 1 would get up at night and scratch myself until torture 1 endured is almost Ointment. It has‘cured me, and pupa“) doggy-union, and now I Cannot anything too good for Dr. I recommend it. because I know there is nothing so good for itching skin." not ‘ most flesh was raw and flaming. 'l‘he Chase’s Especially during the hot summer months children are tortured by itching skin disease, chafing, sunburn, and a score of ailments that tes-ti‘ry to the worth of Dr. wood, Ont., has a boy who was years old, {\ll‘fl, though she took him t fact. a cure seemed in vain. “This, little fellow was covered Wi he suffered was something dreadful, and my sister «she did not have much faith in Dr. Chase’s Ointment. . and there is not a mark or scar left on his body. - 60 cents a box, at all dealers, or Ednianson, Bates and Co... Tororto. a perfect cure in this case, Dr. Chase’s Ointment. had been disappointed th itching sores, and hands and face were I can, now testify that. .Dr. are relieved and cured by Dr. Chase's Ointment. ' . “ ' " . .' ‘ Mr. J. Gear, mail carrier and st age driver between I-‘Oit lulgin and funcai dine, Chase’s Ointment as a. cure for eczema. . I a great. sufferer from this dreadful skin (ll’JCflSC. He 0 several doctors and tried a great many remedies, all efforts to ef- Ont., states :â€"“I can My sister, Mrs. J. Dobson, of Under- was then only four especially bad. The way with so many preparations that Chase’s Ointment mad. amusements, his pleasures were strange to her. It was an unheardâ€" of position, an unheard-of fate. "If I did not know that he 11an married 1110 because he loved me, I should say rather that he did not like me,” was a thought which of- ten occurred to her, but she drove it away as unworthy. “If I were beautiful," thought the lovely girl, “I should think that he had mar- ried me for my beautyâ€"if I had .grand connections, for them; but I have noneâ€"I have nothingâ€"‘my love has stooped to me from high estate.’ I shall never understand what he saw in me to make him love. me.” ' She had paid so little attention to the words that she did not even remember that she had been called “Arley Ransome’s heiress.” Of all the ideas that occurred to her, the one that she had been married for her money was the farthest from her thoughts. -x- 4(- * e 36 if- Tliree weeks had passed away, and Lord Caraven began to wonder how much longer he was to remain in Paris. If he had been free to folâ€" low his own inclinations, they would . have led him to the gaining-tables at Badenâ€"Baden. But, as he said, imâ€" patiently, he had no idea of going there with a whole train of people to look after. . How long would she expect to reâ€" main in Paris ? The honeymoonâ€"â€" that most absurd of all institutions â€"was supposed. to last a month. It would be better, perhaps; to remain there until it was over, and then go to Ravensmere. He. would be more comfortable there. The house. was spacious, and it would be possible for him to move about without,beâ€" ing haunted by the girlish, wistful face. So in Paris, until the, honey- moon. was over, he decided on re ' maining‘. (To Be Continued.) ~.. §â€"-§. fill in a use .Jâ€"nâ€" civiA'PrrEn xxvn. “I have been writing to Frank, and my letter will reach him toâ€" morrow,” Mrs. Harcourt told Dorcas .on the day after they had had their talk together, and then she paused a be likely to come any sooner for that 1’ 'You ought to know better than I. Do you think he will come?" lshe said. ' It was on a Wednesday that she had written to her son. He would get her letter in London on Thursâ€" day morning, aiid it would take him five hours to come from London to the Dower House. "If he li'ked to come toâ€"morrow he would be able to do it,” Dorcas be- gan involuntarily to think, as the hours passed on. “He might be here, perhaps. by afternoon ; he might be here, I know, by dinnerâ€" time, if he chose, and, oh surely he will choose !” ‘ She thought to herself, that night;â€" “Shall I be happier when he comes 'than 1 am now ?” With a little grave foreboding, she thoughtâ€"“I wonder if the happiest hours of all our lives are not the hours before we gain what We want most !” I It was raining heavily on Thursâ€" 'day morning; it rained for a long time, hour after hour, and Dorcas watched the lowâ€"hanging clouds till she was tired. and stood at the winâ€" dow, listening to the ceaseless patâ€" ter of the drops upon the garden path. If it would but clear up and let her get out ! the girl thought, restlessly. It seemed to her as thought she could not breathe iiiâ€" doors ; the beating of her heart op- pressed her. Would Frank come ? Now that the time at which it was possible for him -t_o come had drawn so'near, she began to tell herself that she was foolish to expect him. He might have been out of town, and not have received his mother’s letter; he might have business that would detain him; he might not care for her as she cared for him. “Oh ! my dear, do you want me less than you used to do ?” she began to cry, walking up and down her room, when she could lbear to sit still no longer. There was a sound of wheels on the wet gravel about three o’clock, and Dorcas’s I and then seemed as if it gceased to beat. Mrs. Harcourt wasi ireading, and she too suddenly puti ldown her book. But the door openâ€"l ed in a minute, and only some orâ€" dinary visitors were ushered inâ€"a. ‘Mrs. Wilson and her daughter, who slived in the neighborhood, and who: lliad [.urposely chosen this wet afterâ€"I lnoon, they said, on which to pay [their visit, because they were sure [that they should find Mrs. Harcourt [at home. So the mother attached. ‘herself to Mrs. Harcourt, and the daughter to Dorcas, and they talked, and the call lasted a long time. They were lively people, and they talked so loud and long that not even Dorcas’ ears caught the sound moment, andâ€"“Do you think he will r heart gave one great hm... all a. quick start of surpriswâ€"a rash 0 blood to her cheekâ€"and then, for 5 little while, almost a. cessation of all feeling. She merely turned her head as the door opened, with the rather tired smile with which she had been listening to one of Miss Wilson’s stories still upon her lips, and her eyes and Frank’s met for something, as it seemed to her, loss than an inâ€" stant. And then there was a sudden buzz of welcomeâ€"a series of delight- ed exclaniations from Mrs. and Miss Wilson, and, after a few seconds, Frank’s hand clasped hers; but she had not courage. then even to at- tempt to look into his face. With a feeling as if she was stunned, as if she Was awake and minute after minute. She said “Yes” and “No” almost mechaniâ€" cally to Miss Wilson; she caught a few of Frank’s Words as she listened with yearning cars; she could not. "keep her eyes from sometimes turn- ing furtively towards him. I do not think that. first meetings after long absences are alWays sweet. Time works its changes so fast, and the face we left seems so often not the face we find again. Was there not something different in Frank ‘Pâ€" some change that made his look unâ€" familiar? There came a sense to her as of something altered, or lost, that filled her With a vague pain and chillness. ‘ At the end of a quarter of an hour the Wilsons took their leave, and Frank left; the room with them to hand them to their carriage. And then Mrs. Harcourt went up to Dorâ€" half only half cas, and put her hand upon her arm. "Stay here, my dear, and I will send him back to you,” she said, abruptly. “You shall have him soon; I only want him first for a very little While.” The two women looked at one anâ€" other for a moment. There was ;something in the elder one’s face ithat Dorcas remembered afterwards; ,but at the time. she only said, “You . - - . ’ H ale way good to me, and half aloud. She sat alone for what seemed to her a long time. (Perhaps Mrs. I~Iar~ hurriedly, court did not think it long.) Then Iin the silence she heard his step lei'ossing“ the hall, and the door opened and he came to her. 'Had she been afraid a, minute ago‘l She had made herself a coward with thinking that he was changed: but ldid he seem changed now as he stood at last; looking in her face again. with more ‘than the light of his old gladness shining in the eyes she loved so well ? I (To Be Continued.) . â€"-â€"+â€"â€"â€"--- HOT WEATHER AILMEN’I‘S. More Little Ones Die During Hot Weather MonthsThan at Any Other Season. It is a, lamentable fact that thous- ands of little ones die from hot weather ailments, whose lives might be spared if mothers had at hand the proper remedy to administer promptly. Hot weather ailments come suddenly, and uniess «promptly treated, a precious little life may be lost in a few hours. Baby’s Own Tablets promptly check and cure diarrhoea, stomach troubles, cholera infantum and other hot weather ail- ments. They also give relief to teething. troubles, and prevent the iailments that come at: this period. Every prudent mother should keep a box of Baby’s Own Tablets in the house at all times. No other inedi- cine acts so promptly and so surely, and the Tablets are guaranteed to contain no opiate or harmful drug. They always do good and cannot possibly do harm, and crushed to a powder you can give them to the smallest, sickliest infant. Mrs. Geo. Foote, St. Thomas, Ont., says :â€" “My baby was troubled with diar- rhoea and vas very cross and rest- less, and got so little sleep I hardly knew what to do with her. I got a. box of Baby’s Own Tablets and after giving her some her bowels became regular and she could sleep well. I think the Tablets a splendid inedi~ cine.” You can get the Tablets at; any drug store or by mail post paid at 25 cents a box by writing to the Dr. Williams’ Medicine Co., Brockâ€" ville, Ont., or Schenectady, N.Y. _M+______ _ AN EXI‘ENSIVE DRESS. The most expensive dress in the world is said to the property of Celia Wallis, of Chicago. who, hearing that-the wife of a London banker possessed a garment, costing $15,000, eclipsed this by an expendi- ture of $35,000. It was trimmed with Brussels point. lace, a yard wide, and three yards in length, costing $25,000, and diamond nainents held it in place. The biggest balloon ever made was. about twenty years ago. Its capa- city was 20,000 cubic yards. It weighed 21.} tons and would raise tons into the air. of another step presently that came an wagered. up the garden stairs. and entered the house by the unfastened garden-door. Both mother and daughter were talking \olubly, and the room was full of their voices and their laugh- terâ€"when suddenly the moment came at last that Dorcas had imagined to herself a thousand times. It cameâ€"this inef‘l‘able moment that ,she had dreamed of by day and night '-â€"-the supreme moment of her life, as lshe had thought it would surely be; and, instead of rapture and speakable emotion, it brought unâ€" only Leaving Frank and Dorcas Harbour to 63in} their honeymoon,we and on readers will watch the fortunes of : simple-minded girl, the ambition (1 whose father places her in a trylm position, from which she emerges 2 carats fine. The story begins tc-cfa and from this out you 0311th afford t miss an issue as the action is rapid. half alive, she sat still. 0". I VV’flv‘FvN" ' AA AV-‘guh- -