The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

.7 ".53; lake â€" mu rmured. Love. wzewwlomezwamsawdrfi CHAPTER XIX. Near the lake, across which last red glimmer of the sunset had faded, husband and wife stood for one moment beneath the darkening, Sky, looking at each other. Lord Caravcn’s face Was ghastly white, an unknown, untold horror lay in his eyes, his lips trembled with uncon» trollable emotion, I-lildred -â€" pale, terrified, wondering â€" gazed at him like one fascinated. "What is it?” she gasped. "You guilty woman,” cried the earl -â€" “you cru-el, guilty, jealous woman! ” v She shrank back as though he had struck her â€"- her lips parted as though she would'speak, but all sound died away on them. “You guilty woman,” repeated the earl, "own the truth! ed Lady Hamilton and me here to watch, to listen. Speak!” “May Heaven pardon me, I did!” she moaned. “Here you must remain. I shall know where to find you, crouching at the end of the alder-trees, you hid husband and his guest. Great l-Ieaâ€" ven! that a 'spy should hear my name! Stay here until I return. If you attempt to escape I will send the whole country after you. And I was beginning to Care for you â€"â€" to think you a noble woman!” She shrank cowering from him. His angry face, the anger that shone in his eyes, the stern voice. frightened her. She V shrank lower and lower, until she fell on her knees, sobbing as though her heart would break. "Stir at your peril!” he said, and then he left her. For some minutes afterward she heard sounds on the borders of the sounds, as of inâ€" tense pity and compassion, followed by the tramp of many.footsteps, and then all was still. The ground was covered with dead and dying leaves. Lady Caraven flung herself down upon them, and as she lay there the old words Came to her: “Let. me die!” Death would have been mercy. What did it all mean? She had forgotten all about the shot, she believed the poachers to have fired in the woods â€"â€"- it had not dwelt for one moment in her mind. She was in a maze of doubt, difficulty, for it,” answered the earl, severely. flake. and despair. What did‘ it mean? If she tempted to escape he would send the whole country after her. Surely she had net merited such threats. Surely she had not deserved language that he might have used toward a murâ€" derer, but which came strangely enâ€" ough to his wife. He had discovered that she loved" him, ,that she was jealous, that she had followed him for the sake of watching and listen- ing to him; but surely that was not enough to call out the whole cour- try to pursue her. He had called her guilty. She had owned that she was. Ah! dear Heaâ€" ven, if she had but died when a child in her mother’s arms! He had callâ€" ed her cruel; that she was not, for she would never have voluntarily hurt even a worm. Why was she to remain there â€" to move at her peril? What did it mean? The golden stars came out in the sky. Was it really herself, or was she dreaming? Was she Hildred, the beautiful, popular Countess of Car- aven, lying there in all the abandon- ment of her misery, her husband's angry voice in her ears, the marks of his angry grasp on her arm? Outâ€" cast, wretched, despairing, there was only one friend for her in the world, and that was Sir Raoul; if she could but see him, if she could but tell him! The pitiless night hid her from all eyes. Surely there had never been a night so full of pain. How long she had been lying there she never knew: Time was all ended for her. She was conscious only of infinite misery. She did not even feel the chill breath of the wind as ’it passed over her. Then. after what seemed to her an“ lhe PGWBP ll Persuasllll i .1. . . .i 35 Or Lady Caraven’s Labor of 3: thclfootsteps amid the brushwood, an You followâ€"' where l yourself to listen to your. Q .. . .‘M.:Aoo:+'z‘;£!a§l ocean‘- age of suspense and agony, she heard Lord Caraven calling her by name. "I am here,” she said. In the thick growing darkness it was with difficulty that he discover- ed her. He saw her at length with .her face hidden among the dead 'leaves. i “You may rise and thank Heaven,” ;he said, in a stern voice, “that you ihave not succeeded; the evil is not :so great as it might have been.” i She rose and stood before him, the same dazed look on her face. i “I do not understand â€"- you say ‘such hard, such cruel things,” she 1 moaned . I “Hard and cruel,” repeated her Ihusband, with bitter contempt; “did 'ever a, woman live so cruel as you?" “I am not cruel,” she replied. “I have been driven mad.” | There was such infinite sadness in {in the young face, that he was touched in spite of his anger and contempt. . ' “Tell me,” he said, “what made you do this thing â€" this cruel, unâ€" generous, unwomanly deed?” i She thought he referred to her conâ€" duct in following him, and they seemed to her hard words. i “What made me do it? You will ’only despise and hate me the more {if I tell you,” she replied. ! “Frankly speaking, Hildred, noth- ing that you can say to me will make the matter worse, but it may {certainly be made better. Tell me étlle plain truth." “Yes, I will tell you,” she replied. l"I see that all good understanding iis at an end betWeen us." g "That is quite certain,” he said, .with emphasis; “with my consent {you shall never enter my doors iagain.” 1 "Ll-lave I acted so vely wrong?” she lasked, sadly. 1 “Wrong!” he exclaimed, contemptâ€" ;uously. "We will waive that, l-lilâ€" i(ll-ed. You have done that which I lwill never pardon. Now tell me whyl Eyou did it. You may speak the ltruth to me; you hear my name, I iwill shield you from all harm. No one knows but myself." i “Then she did not see me?” said iIâ€"Iildred, drearily. "No â€" and you may be thankful You may “She did not see you. at- speak quite frankly â€" no one knows; ianything about it except myself. ENow tell me.” “What have I to tell you?” she gsaid. “I â€" I did it; I followed you here because â€" oh! how hard it is to ‘tell! -â€"â€" because I was jealous of her. I thought that you both were ridi- culing me, that you would tell her lthaf; you had been obliged to marry ~me to save yourself from ruin, but that you did not love me. you did .not care for me, you disl’iked me, .you hated me, you longed to be free ,from me â€" my accurse'd money Was all you wanted â€" that you would never like me. And I fancied she ing burdened with a wife you did not glove. I believed that you would tell i then both i me . ’ ’ The passion of of you would laugh at forgotten that which her jealousy Iliad prompted her to do, and rememâ€" was no longer a heroine â€" only a passionate, injured, deeplyâ€"loving 'woman. She rose to the occasion. The earl was impressed more than he would have cared to own. “I could not. bear it,” she conâ€" ltinue'd, passionately. "I should have done worse than this, I am sure, if ‘it could have been done. I 'was mad. I will tell you all. I was mad, because I had learned to love [you with all the strength of my [heart and soul. I could not bear that you should jest about me with careless ‘words; it was as though lyou had stabbed me for pleasure.” :with bitter cries, as though a, grave dllay there, and she had fallen upon lit. .the young voice, such dreary despair' would pity you, in that soft, caressâ€"" ing voice of hers â€"â€" pity you for beâ€"‘ her that I was jealous of her, that; her Words had f deadened all sense of shame. She had' bered her great, bitter wrongs. She’ He looked terribly distressed. “Why did you not tell me this be- fore, Iâ€"Iildred?” he asked. “I tell you? How little you know me! Was it my place to go to the husband who neglected me and plead for his caresses â€" for his love? I would have died a thousand deaths first. How little you know me! I should not tell you all this now, but that I know in this world we shall never perhaps meet again. 1 am speaking to you across a grave. I stretch out my hands to you over a grave -- the grave where my love lies -â€"â€" slain!” And as she said the words she fell upon her knees, weeping, sobbing I He was touched. 'I-Ie could not tolâ€" qu oq 01 polio;po oq (mum 03,152.10 lcrime, but she was young, beautiful, land loving. IIer crime had been {committed through love for him. He raised her from the ground. “1 am very sorry, Hildred,” he )said; “it is very sad for both of us. {Now we must talk of something else. {You must go at once.” ! She raised her weeping eyes to lhim. l “Must you send me away?” she asked, gently. “It was wrong. I lwas mad with jealous anger, but I laid not think I was. Could you not loverlook it?” Z “You speak lightly,” he replied ‘sternly. "No, you can never reâ€"enâ€" ter my house; I have arranged it all. I did so when I teek poor Lady Hamilton back to the castle. I told our guests that you had been sudâ€" denly sent for by your father, that I had driven you to the station â€"â€" and it is to your father’s house that you must go.” "Very well,” she said, drcarily. "You do not seem to understand,” 1he remarked, sharply; “do you not know the danger, the peril that hangs over you?” She did not; but of what use Was it to.say so? ' l “Try to collect yourself and unâ€" derstand,” he continued; “time presses. I cannot keep them away imuch longer. You must depart at ionce Without being seen. No one fmust know at what hour you went. iYou must go to your father’s house jand wait there. If it should be ineedful to send you abroad, I will larrange it.” “ “Have I done so very wrong?” she - murmured. l The earl cried out passionately: ' “Heaven give me patience! You must be mad to ask me such a quesâ€" ltion. One would think you did not lknow what wrong meant.” Hilder stood quite still, looking ialmost helplessly at him. l “You do not seem to realize or to know what you have done,” he said, ihastily. "I do, I do," she moaned; “and ‘there will be no" pardon. I wish that I might fling myself into that I would, but that there is a life to come.” “l-lildred,” said the earl. sternly, 3“listen to me. I have told you that lyou must never re-euter my doors; ,but you hear my name, and for my name’s sake I will shield you. The ECountcss of Carmen may have done ‘wrong. but the world must not know 1’ must save you from the ,consequenccs of your mad folly. See -â€"I went quickly to your rooms and have brought you these.” He gave her a cloak and a bonnet with a thick veil. “I found them in your wardrobe. Have you any money?” “No,” she replied, vacantly, “none.” He took out his purse and gave it :10 her. “I would accompany you,” he lsaid, "but that it Would draw down lsuspicion on you. I must be here ,to ward it off. Wrap yourself in ‘this cloak. Hide all that amber gs-afin.” With cold, trembling hands, she gobeyed him. Suddenly she rememâ€" bered the rubies. She unclasped the lnecklace and bracelets. .1 , “Take those,” she said: and the earl took them -â€" if. was better, he thought, to humor her. "Now you quite. understand, Hilâ€" ldred? You must not go near Court Raven â€" you are known there. You must walk to Worsele; that is a larger station; no one will know you. Take a ticket for London. When you reach there, hail a cab and 5go straight to your father’s house. Are you quite sure that you under- stand?” “Yes; what must I say to my fa- ther?” she asked. “You had better tell him the truth. He is a quick. keen man of .‘But the Doctors Could Not Cure Mr. Gloutierâ€"Said He Would Never be Well Againâ€"After Six Years of Helplessness He Was cured by Dr. Chase’s Nerve Food, The case of Mr. Simon Cloutier, Iihoemaker, 110 Lagouchetierc street, Montreal, deserves more than passing ‘notice. because his case was unusual- ly severe. For six long years Mr. Cloutier Was an invalid, unable to attend to his work, and much of his time was spent in the hospitals of Mon- treal. The doctors gave him no hope of recovery, but, on the con- trary, told him that he would never be well again. - ' A treats‘aent that will restore to good health a person 'was considered hopeless must be of more than ordinary Value, and this is only one of a. series. of remarkable cures that have been brought about by the use of Dr. Chase’s Nerve Food. ‘ Mr. Simon Cloutier, shoemaker, 110 Lagauchetiere street, Montreal, Que, states :â€"â€"“For six years I was not able to work, my nerves were all unstrung and my digestion bad. I had severe attacks ‘ of headache, could' not sleep}. and suffered with shooting pains in the small of my back. .I was in four hospitals, said I would never be Well again. In spite of their decision I began the use of Dr. Chase's Nerve Food some months ago, and I am convinced that I owe my life to this medicine. I have now been at work for over two weeks, and believe that my health has been fully restored. , It isla pleasure for me to add my tea- timony to the.-hosts of others from persons who have been 'cured by this wonderful medicine.” I' Dr. Chase’s [Nerve Food, 50 cent- a. box,-" 6 boxes for $2.50, at all. but. dealers, or Edmanson, Bates Av. Co., whose case the doctors could not cure me‘. They Toronto. the world; he will know for better than I do what should be done. Tell him all.” dred,” he said. “I fear. You understand all. You know the, road to Worseleyâ€"it is diâ€" rect -â€" you take the highâ€"road with- out turning. his face; all the regret, that she could not put her. Had he been speaking to the merest stranger, his voice could not have been colder or more stern. Then he turned night winds whispered round her. She walked on, unconscious of it all. W â€"__.â€"â€"_â€"_.___ I CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. It is a rule, to which good lawyers usually aldhere, never to tell- than one knows. A newspaper tells a. funny story of a lawyer who car- ried the rule to the extreme. One of the ageuts in a Midland'Re- vision Court in England objected to a person whose name was on the reâ€" gister, on the ground that he was dead. The revising barrister declin- ed to accept the assurance, how- ever, and demanded conclusive testi‘ mony on the point. The agent of. the other side rose “Yes,” she replied, mechanically. “Now hasten away from here, Hi1- am in mortal Good-bye.” She raised her dark, sad eyes to the love, the passion, into words,‘was revealed in them. “Goodâ€"bye,” -she repeated. He did not hold out his hand to to the decease of the gentleman in question. “But, sir, how do you know the man’s dead?” demanded the barris- ter. quickly away, and Lady Caraven Walked across the coppice and through a lane into the high- “ - ,, u , road. Her face Was deadly pale; her , “011' Eva‘s the, _1‘Cply’ I do”? limbs trembled with cold. The g01_ know. It 5 very dlfhcnlt to prove. ’ at ' , n , . , v ‘ den stars shone down upon her; the _ As I suspected, ’lotulned the balâ€" rlster. You don t know whether he’s dead or not.” It was the early dawn of morm The barrister glanced triumphantly mg when She reached the Station __ round the court, but his expression a large railroad junction. where She gradually underwent a. change as the was both unknOWn and unnoticed. “unless coolly. Contmued: The train started for London in “I Was saying. sir, that I don’t hqu an hour. NO one Spoke to her, know whether he is dead or not, but or appearcd to see her, as She took I do know this: they buried him hm. place, and in a few minutes more about a month ago on suspicion.“ she was on her way. ' It was a, hard punishment â€"â€" terriâ€" VERY METHODICAL INDEED. bly hard for such a trifle, she Once an old man, James Scott by name, traveled about on business until he was nearly 80 years of age, He became celebrated for his punc- . tuality and his methodical hbits dranl' nor sle t Since th v i - ‘ ~ ' ' . . Ll ' " p e e on ng be Upon one . occasion a gentleman fore. When she reached London she - ,1 t _ j . ‘ 'stopped at an inn much frequented 0'5 {ed '1 portal to can a“ cab {01 her’ by Mr. Scott, and saw a fine fowl and gave the address: “Mr. Ran- some, the Hollies, Kew,” â€" and the drive thither seemed to her more than ever like a dream.” (To‘Be Continued). BABY’S FIRST TOOTH. _â€" thought, wondering that the earl could be so stern. She was tired, fatigued, exhausted with passion and emotion. She had neither eaten, cooking. "That is very good,” said the hun- gry guest. “You may serve that for my dinner.” “You cannot have that, sir,” re- plied the landlord. “That is being co'oked for Mr. Scott, the traveler.” “I know Mr. Scott very well,” said the entleman. "Isl st _ AFamily Event That Does Not ping. 116mg, "3 0p Always Bring Unmixed Joy- “'Oh, no, sir," answered the land- , ‘ . , lorld. “But two months ago he or- Baby 5 fiISt 1'00“) does not con“ dered a fowl to be ready for him at unannounced. Inflamed gums and ' H _ y , V impaired digestion produce a fever- £18015?” $70,019.10“ 10-day". mid n“! is-h and fretfiil condition about which 1% ‘elgef: 3.118 3.1131 every nllllllfl.e:l the mother often feels concern. The tv 1' "(‘0 L aluVed on the Smoke 0‘ baby boy of Mrs. George McGregor, of Hamilton, Ont., was troubled with diarrhoea. while teething and was A DANDYâ€"LION STORY. cross and restless. He did not sleep He had been in the Dark Continent well and matters became serious. The for two or three years, and when mother writes as follows: “My sip home on a visit he delighted to spin ter had used Baby’s Own Tablets for his “tall” yarns about his experi- her baby and advised me to try ences in Africa. The hunting of wild them. I got a box and after giving lions was his speciality â€" now he the Tablets to the baby a few times could shoot them, how he could go he began to improve and “789 5'00“ out and be sure of finding one, etc., well. He is now a big, healthy and he generally wound up by say- baby and _whenever he gets fretflll 0: ing he never yet saw a‘lion he fear- does not feel well I give him a Tabâ€" ed, let and he is soon all right again-U One night, after he had finished Baby’s Own Tablets replace With yarning, he was a little taken back great advantage 031550? Oil and Other by one of his audience, who said: nauseous, gripé‘g drugs- They “That’s nothing. I have lain sweeten the stomach, quiet the nerves down and actuvnuy slept among- Hons and promote healthful .sleep.- They ‘in their wild, natural state.” are guaranteed to contain no opiate "I don’t believe that. I’m no and to be absolutely harmless. If fool!” said the great hunter. your druggist does not keep them “It’s the. truth, though.” you can obtain a full-size bOX by “You slept among lions in their mail, post paid, by sending 25 cents wild, natural State?” . to the Dr. Williums’ Medicine Co., “yes, I certainly did}: llrockville, Ont., or Schenectady, N. “can you prove it? were they At- Y. l‘l'can?” _____+____ "Well, not exactly African lions. NOT WHAT SHE EXPECTED. They were dandehons." Opening the door in response to BENEFIT OF ADVERTISING- an insistent knock the lady beheld A merchant in one of our citie‘ the figure of one she remembered. lately put an LIIdVCl‘tlSOIllt’lll} in a pa: . l“()h, it is you, is it?” she said, per headed: 1clly. “Boy wanted!” “it is me ” was the answer " - ‘ ' . 7 “Your Ion 4: qt 1 ,b l '1 . lhe neat monnng he found a. band: I 3 0~ 1115 am, “ 10 has box on his doorstep, With this in- come to tell you that he is hc‘rim away two years use.” “How will this one answer?” i' Aliwbe you are S‘Ol‘l‘y you On opening it he found a nice, fat, “full, 1:0t01‘t0d _l'h'3 lady, “but I chubby-looking specimen '0! the ar- fimlll’i; “hat dl‘d you Come haCk ticle he wanted, warmly done up in 101'? flannel. “My dearest, I have been to Klon- dike, and last summer I accumulated fifty thousandâ€"~” _"Fifâ€"ty thouâ€"sand dollars!” shriek- ed the loving wife, as, she fell on his neck. “N0; mosquito bites." It was only a moment later that he fell on his neck himself. g amid ggrydfoggzn iisehfinrz, Landlady â€"- “What portion of tlu an n 1 n 1) cs, - ¢ v ' . - ‘- a" munmcmwmmm inflamed“. “tes- Cll‘lst’lxell would you like, III. New com. Limoulcla in thodley press ,dnsk yourneigh. (31'? Ml- I\iflVCOmCl‘ â€" Oh, half 02 bars whubthey thin orit. on can use if: and it will be ample, thank you.” gcbdyour money back if not cured. (ice apex, at ' all ealera or EDHANEON,BATES& Co., Oronto, . ' , First Traveler â€"â€" “Does the train {mfg Ghafse’s stop here long enough to let you gel w something to eat?" Second Trav- eler â€" “No; just long enough to lei you pay for what you order.” SOl‘l‘y scription on the top: MIKE LOST. Pat â€"â€" Did you ever back a horse in your life, .‘like? Mikeâ€"Yes. (nice, and only once. “Did you win anything?” “N0, 'ocgorl‘a; that I didn’t.” “Why, how was that?” “Well, you see, I backed the bless- ed hoss through a shop window, and To prove to you that Dr. 1,. u , 2.- n Chase‘s Ointmentisaoerbain I ln-d to qu ‘5 0' and absolute cure for'eaoll PARDONED. A lady traveling by rail sat facing a gentleman, who, with one eye at “We know a girl,” says- someone least‘, secured to be staring fixedly at “so industrious that when she has. her. She. became indignant, and nothing else to do she sits and said:_ > knits her brow.” "Why do you look at me so, sir?” 'â€"â€"' He said he was not aware of havâ€" ing off-ended, but she insisted. was rich?” Mildred â€"â€" “Oh, no. 1 “I beg your pardon, madam, but merely said he had more money than it’s this eye, is it not?” â€" lifting his brains.” finger to his left optic. -â€" “Yes, sir, that’s- the eye.” “Do you have trouble with you) “Well, madam, that eye won’t do cooks boiling cofl‘ee too long?" you any harm. It’s a glass eye. I "Goodness, no! They don’t stay hope you’ll excuse it. But I’m not long enough for that.” surprised that even a glass eye should feel interested in so charming a woman.” , , the Van Dulls‘.” askedthe daughter. The explanation and the compli- “Just as soon,” answered the moth- ment combined put the lady in good er, "as ’I can find out when they are humor. - not going to be at home." Gladys â€"â€" “I thought you said he “When are you going to call on “Are you educating your son for M0141“)? 'â€" “Whalfi makes 3'0" CF) any particular caning?" “yes.” that way?” Johnnie â€" “Our poor “What?” .‘fWen, he made his own teacher has been ill so long, and â€"â€" selection; and as‘ near as I can find andâ€"n “What! Di‘! he (310?" out he. is educating himself to be the “N0 'â€" no “ he is getting W911 'â€" husband of an heiress." boo â€" boo.” more ' - and gave corroborative evidence aS‘ v.1“. ’ 1' l j. l i ,1 i y,‘ a. ,. V‘Jv scurvyâ€"J . v,- fill-Magi-a