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“v 15:4 [INâ€"“DER THE LILAC TREE. #- '1 Opened the leaves of atook last nightâ€" The dust on its cover lay dusk and brown; _ _ As i held it toward the waning light A withered flow'ret fell rustling down, ’Twas only the wraith of a. woodland weed \Vhich a dear dead hand in the days of old Bad placed ’twixt the pages she lOved to read, At the time when my news of love was told; . And memory sweet, but as sad as Sweet, & oft flooded mine. eyes with regret- ful tears As the dry dim harebell skimmed pastl my feet. l "Will you play Lord Severne's ac- companiment .’" asked Lady lorke. "I would rather not." I replied. "I will," said Lady Severne; "i like to play for him.” _ . “"35 be thinking of her or thinking of me? Not of me. He could not Sing such words to me now: for the song he had chosen was Sullivan‘s beautiful "My Dearest Heart.“ . "All the dreaming is broken through: Both what is done and undone Irue. {Nothing is steadfast. nothing is true, But your love for me, and my love for you, My dearest, dearest heart! "\Vhen the“ winds are loud, when the winds are low, When the roses come, when the roses goy R8011“ng an hour from the VanlShQ-d One thought. one feeling, is all IknOW, years. My dearest, dearest heart! '.‘0nce more I was watching her deep "The time is wear-‘2 the year is old, fringed eyes, Bent over the 'I'asso upon her knee,. And the fair face flushing with sweet? surprise, ; At tlze passionate pleading that broke; from me. _ Ah, Ruby, my darling, the small white hand, That gathered the harebell was nev- er my own, But. faded and passod to the far-off land. _ _ And Idreamed by the flickering flame alone. (I gathered the flowers and 1 closed the leaves, And folded my hands in silent. prayer That the reaper Death, as he seeks his sheaves, Might hasten the hour of our meet- ing there.” . \Vas I dreaming, or did my own voice die away in a wail of painâ€"die in 8.] long-drawn bitter sob? " Lady Yorke was near me, and Isaw tears in her eyes. “Once more, Miss Chester,” she said. "Yours songs are so sad and so sweet, they take me out of this world. Once more, if you are not too tired," I had forgiven Mark not very long since, but the longing was upon me to make him feel, to pierce his heart with some little of the anguish which had pierced mine. Never mind what I sufâ€", fered, if I could send my words flyâ€"E ing like barbed arrows across the! room. - I looked at him. The handsome pro-l file stood out clearly and distinctly. He stood gazing through the long winâ€"l (low at the night sky. Ah, yes, [would sting him into feeling! And this was my song: A DEAD LOVE. “Down deep in my heart, in its last calm sleep, A dear dead love lies buried deep; I clasped it. once in a long embrace, And closed the eyes and veiled the face .I never again might. see. 11 breathed no word and I shed no tear, But the onward years looked dark and draw, And i knew, by the throbs of mortal pain. . . That a sweetness had fled which never} again \Vould in life come back to me. "And dreams of this past, like roses, still shed Their fragrance around my cherishedE dead ; While tears that ever are falling unâ€"g seen, ' ' Like soft summer rain. keep its mem-i ory green ; As the turf of the church-yard sod- . And, weeping and watching, [ pray and I wait 1 That an angel may open the golden gate; i For I think that the love of long ago,l Though cold and dead to me here be- low Will ’be mine. in the rest of God.” l There was a little stir in the room: when my song was finished. The last; words rang through my brainâ€""Will. be mine in the. rest of God." '1 had; touched him. All those other men andl l And the light of the lily burns close to the. mold; The grave is cruel, the grave is cold, But. the .other side is the city of gold; My dearest heart, my dearest heart! The light and the flowers, the fair faces and jewels, swam before me. it seemed to me that I was faint and ill with the odor of violets. I went from the. pi;ino to the. other end of the room. I could sing no more that night. A tall jardiniere filled with exquisite white hyacinths, which stood near af- forded me shelter, and from behind the white fragrant flowers I could see and hear all that passed. Lady Yorke came to me there and said that I must rest. "You musical people take so much out of yourselves,” she said. “Yon throw your whole souls into your songs. Look at Lord Severne. Who is his 'dearest heart,’ I wonder ’I” “Lady'Severne,” I replied, quickly. But Lady Yorke shook her head. "That is a marriage I cannot underâ€" stand,” she said, slowly; "but I be- gin to see what Lord Severne’s secret is.” I would have given worlds for cour- age to ask her to explain her words, but I did not dare to do so. She left me, and I watched husband and wife. There was something beâ€" tween themâ€"some shadow. She seem- ed to me half afraid of him. He regardâ€" ed her closely. He was ill at ease if .she said much, if she laughed or atâ€" tracted much attention. He remind- ed me of some one who had the care of a forward child always on the point of breaking out into mischief. They nevâ€" er looked at each other with eyes of trust or love. 'I had not watched them one. half hour before I felt, and saw that Mark was wretched. \Vhat. could it be? Lady Severne was beautiful, graceful, elegant, and well-bred. What could be wrong with her? There was something, I felt sure. Later on that evening, when [sat with aching heart. and. tired eyes, long- mg for the hour of dismissal, Lady Yorke came to me again. "You look so tired, Miss Chester,” she said, “'i will not ask you to sing.” \Ve both glanced across the room to where Lady Severne in her white velâ€" vet and diamonds was the centre of a laughing group. “How beautiful she is!” I said. The words seemed to be wrung from me in very bitterness of heart. “Yes,” said Lady Yorke. “It is a strange thing that the. tanker always eats the heart of the fairest rose,” and then, seeming vexed at her own words, she hastened to change. the subject. \Vhen she had gone I looked long and learneslly-at Mark’s wife. What could be wrong with this beautiful woman? Nothing with her moral character, or she. would not be here at \Vestwood. With all her nonchalance and indiffer- ence, tlicre Was no prouder woman liv- ing than fully Yorke. She would not have associated with a duchess who had a blot; on her character. There could be nothing of that. kind. [saw no blem- ish in Lady Severne’s manner. She was lively, animated, but not ‘fast’; ,she was witty and clever, but not 'loud.’ I lost myself in conjecture. One thing only was quite plain to meâ€" that there was something wrong with! Mark’s wife, and between them there .was no love. The. days that followed were busy ones. The month of May was bright and warm. Lady Yorke enjoyed pic- nics and several were organized. What- ever flirtations'were going on hall no . “01110” were “(filling to fileâ€"“my Shad“! interest for me: i saw only Mark and ows. They had no identity. 1 saw movâ€"I Mark’s wife. He and I never spoke, we ing figures, I heard voices, in! to me' “6"” “XVI-imng even a lock; we ‘ th ) l [were as perfect strangers. file. only M‘Uk “as e“ a one" . [time we broke through our rule of si- ll saw a quiver 0f 1‘11!“ I’ll-5“? 0"91‘ 1113; lence was when he told me that he face. .i had made him feel. Then 80* h9lled I would £0113"? ill? lllil‘u‘mn 0f true, so weak a woman was I that Ibis l’re§en“e' 1’1“ “mt he (“um [Wt , . . y. lleave \Vestwood as soon as he had in- longed to cross the room and kiss the! fended, Lady Severne was not “ming- oaln away. The odor of violets camei I did not go to any of the picnics. Lady to mc; Lady Severne was standing by Yorke seemed to understand that I my Side. I "How exquisitely you sing. Miss. A Chester! You make mo long for things that i have quite forgotten. How dif-l fercntly we should all live if we could lead our lives over auxin!“ was neither well nor happy just then, and slzo was very kind to me. I notic- ed that once or twice Lady Severnc was absent. She remained at home 'whilc. the others Went, and on those days I saw um-a-dness on Lady Yorke’s face. and misery in Mark’s eyes. 011 tin-ac occasions Lady cherne remained 'l‘hc brilliant fuz‘c “as softened: theisccludcd in her room. and her maid hard meta'lic light hal died from hers eyes. i liked her boiler in that Innâ€"l men! than 1 but before. Then llicard: Lady Yorke asking Mark to sing. l; remembered the fish «nary voice that i had (rolled out. many love songs. ’ "You never refused to singf'or me3 in italy," said Lady Yorke, "why reâ€" fuse ln-re i" f "Lord Severnc has a beautiful voice and a perfect car." Lady Severne re-i marked turning to me. ' 1t comforted me just a little to re- member that I had known that long before she did. An uncontrollable; trembling cam;t over me. for Marki itoOd by my side. in strict attendance upon her. That maid. Martha Glyde by name, was a puzzle in me. Prim. reticent. nL'Vé’r usin‘r two words where one would suffice. kind. but with never a smile on hcl‘ fare: gcntlo. yet with a curtain grim mannerâ€"~40 me she soon became a living mystery. I thought it, so strange tint a young and beautiful ‘woman like Lady Soverne should pre- fer a grim. old-fashioned. elderly per- son like Martha Glyde to a. young and pretty maid with a. fresh face and quick. tripping footsteps. Moreover. l was not sure in my own mind that Lady Severne did like her. This we. man always assumed a tone of au- thority that I thought most unbecom- ing. . As yet I suspected nothing. I had no tangible reasons for any of the aha- dowy fears that surrounded me. I had watched Lady Severne with 9508 and instincts sharpened by love and jealousy, tut I saw nothing “70118- One morningâ€"it was almost the last in May, and the June roses were be- ginning to bloomâ€"a picnic was arrang- ed. Many of the county families had been invited. Lady Yorke hal resolved upon giving an entertainment which should not soon le forgotten. A firstâ€"class military band was one. of the chief attractions, and every one looked forward to the day with delight. It had been decided to visit the old Abbey of St. Ninian â€"la magnificent ruin only a few miles from Woodhea~ ton. and a favorite place of resort. 1 was with Lady Yorke in her bou- doir half an hour before the time for starting; she was telling me about her letters, when Lord Severne came. to the door. Seeing me there, he did not enter. Lady Yorke went to him, and he spoke in a low tone. of voice to her. I could see that they were both angry and amazed. Then Lady Yorke spoke in a soothing voice. as if she were try- ing to comfort him. Shortly after- wards he.went away, and she returned . to the writing table, with a crimson flush on her face and an angry gleam in her eyes. If saw that her hands trembled so that she could not hold her pen. She flung it impatiently up- on the table. "You must write this for me, Miss Chester," she said quickly; “I am vex- ed and grieved ;" and she walkedto the window, and stood for some min- utes looking out. ' I knew that it. must be something about Mark's wifeâ€"my instinct told me soâ€"but I could not solve the mysâ€" te-ry. On the previous night she had been unusually gay and animated. Inâ€" deed, Lord Severne had hovered near her as though he feared her high spirits might "carry her away." \Vhat then could be wrong this morn- ing? His voice when he spoke to Lady Yorke, was full of pain. I was right, for when the. long line of carriages started with their loads of gay pleasure seekers Lady Severne was not there, and her husband’s dark handsome face was clouded and dis- tressed. 'I was weak enough as I watched him from afar off to stretch out. my hands to him with a longing cry. "0h, Mark, my lost love, what has gone wrong with you ’I" ' CHAPTER X‘IV. Lady Yorke had left me very busy. ,I had many letters to write; I had several gifts of food and clothing to send away, some music and books to select, and I promised if possible to visit apoor woman who lay ill in one of the cottages outside \Voodheaton. More work was before me, I feared, than [could get through, but I be.â€" gan with a. good will. I tried hard to keep my thoughts from wandering, but they would stray to Lady Severne. Why had she not made one. of the picnic party? She had so often talked about St. Ninian’s Abbey and wished to see. it. Why had she remained at home? She could not. be ill, or we. would 'have heard of it, and I remembered that Lord Severne and Lady Yorke had spoken in anger rather than in sorrow. It. was perfectly clear that there was a mystery, but. what was the nature of it Icon-id not imagine. I remember how calm the day was. The sunshine. was delightfully warm. and as the drowsy musical hum of the bees as they worked busily fell on my ears I thought of that beautiful line: "The bee. is betrothed to the broom." The birds were silent; there was but a faint murmur of the wind: the house was strangely still. Many of the ser- vants had gone to the Abbey to be in attendance. 1 could hear quite plainly the rush of the river in the dia- tance,and the tapping of leaves against. the window glass. Once or twice 1 fancied that. I heard a most unusual soundâ€"whether it was a laugh, a scream or amoan, I could not tell, for it was gone. almost as soon as heard. I went. down to the library in search of something that I needed for my writing. On the grand staircase I met Lady Severne’s maid, Martha Glyde, and I felt sure that she had the key of a bedroom door in her hand. She was taking some, soup, 1 thought, upstairs, for she was carrying a covâ€" vered basin. Martha had always a grim smile for me. '[ was one of her favorites. ii stopped impulsively. “How is Lady Soverne this morn- ing !" I asked, and the smile died in a moment. A hard, cold, impenetrabfe look came. into the lioncst {3"(3. "lam sorry she is ill," I continued. “She. is not"â€"â€""il‘l," the woman was going to say, i am sure. but she checks ed herself and substituted "well." "'I am sorry," lsaid. “for I' know she. wanted to see St. Sloan’s. What is itâ€"cold or' headache I" "i must make haste, replied Mar- t‘lm, ignoring my question: “her larly- ship is wailing.” and she brushed past me with far less ceremony than us- ual.» "Good morning. miss," she add~ ed, hastily, as though she knew she had been abrupt. An hour afterward 1 had finished my writing and legan to pack the, par" eels of clothes that Lady Yorke had wished me. to send away. My rooms were in the part of the house. called the "Queen's Wing." Lady Yorke‘s suite of aiartmcnls \\u" in the centre of the. building: while. the. rooms set apart for the guests were in the western tower. Some of the clothes i wanted were in one of the. wardrobcs in a Spare room. Crossing the broad corridors that led to the western lower, I was struck by the urinaua! silence. There was no sound of visitors or ser- vants, but profound stillness â€" no hurry of footsteps, no voices,. .1 went to the cedar roam, opened thi- wardrobe, found what I req ired, and was on the point of reclusing t. when i heard a sound that almost [rose the blood in my veins. Was it a cry, a shriek? I could not teii~only that it was unearthly in its horror. ii knew by the sound that it must. have come from Lady Severne'a room. Half frantic with fear, the next min- ute l was rapping at her door. it "What. is the matter, Lady Severnef“ I cried. "Are you ill! Are you hurt i“ There was a moment of deathly silâ€" ience. I turned the handle of the door :and found it was securely locked. “\Vho is therei" Martha Glyde call- ed out. - “it is Iâ€"Miss Chester. “'th is the matter," I replied. "Nothing," was the curl: reply. “ lut. Martha. I heard Lady Sev- erno scream. I am sure she is ill. Do let me in." The next mdment )Iarthfi had half 0i" ened the door and I saw her face: it alas white and angryâ€"yes, and alarm- "Miss Chester," she saidâ€" and the effort to speak calmly was a great oneâ€"“do not try to come in. You. will only make things worse. Believe me, there is nothing the matter. Lady Severne is- often hysterical. She is not ill, but she would be annoyed if she knew you were here.” I went away, but I retained my own belief that the scream I had heard was not hysterical. .I wondered if Mark‘s wife could be, mad ; but I was not aware that people could be mad one day andI sane the next. . I found that Lady Severne did not leave her room that. day, nor did she join the dinner party in the evening. Lady Yorke apologized for her, say-‘ ing that she had taken cold through. being out on the terrace on the pre-V vious'evening, but that she hoped she; would be better on the morrow. Ij . ,.__._.__.._-.,_ M' 'Mrii‘iSAL'rn. “« .1- Ms“ -\\\\-\\\\\ \\\\\~. . use or roornnaUSHI" It is but a little thing, yet on “8 Proper use depends much of the happi~ ness of modch man. Why civilized teeth should be so rotten is a question which has often been debated, and pro- bably the true answer is more com~ plex than some would think. Many good mothers are content to put a1 toothache down. to lollypopa: blit thal sugar in itself is not responsible to: bad teeth is proved by the splendic "ivorics" often possessed by negrom who practically live upon the sup!!! cane. and thrive upon it, too. during the. whole, of the. salmon when it is in maturity. Dental decay is common enough. ilO\\" evcr. among negroes in towns, and ii seems clear that the caries of tho teeth, which is so common among civilized r3~ cos, is due not to any particular ar- ticle of diet so much as to digestive and nutritive changes imposed upon us by our mode of life, and to some extent by the fact t!.al by hook or crook We do somehow manage to live, notwithstand- ing our bad teeth: whereas, in a state of nature, the toothless man soon dies. c I ' n a saw Mark’s face twitch and his llllsl Recognizing. thcn, that until the time quiver, but he spoke no word. lliere ; arrives when some great social reform- was a. murmur of regret», for Several l er either mends or ends our present. so- of the. gentlemen present there r‘4)uldicial conditions, our teeth will tend be no attraction that evening. To be Continued A SERIOUS EXPEBlENGE to rot, and that, whatever the predisâ€" posing causes, the final act in the pro- duction of caries is the lodgnient of microbes on_and around the tooth, we see that for long to come the tooth- brush will be. a necessity if the health is to be maintained. ' It is only by frequent use of this PASSED THROUGH BY ONE 0F.litl.lo instrumont that those minute BROCKVILLE’S BEST KNOWN MEN. Ills Legs unvo 0m and “hen lle Sat. Down lle Had No ,Control Over Themâ€"Dr. “‘llllams’ Pink Pills Restored Ilini (oi Acllvlly. From the Brockville Recorder. There are few men in Brockville or vicinity better known to the general. public, and there is certainly no one| held in greater esteem by his friemLs,‘ than Mr. L. deCarlo, or. Mr. deCarle! - came from England to Canada forty-; four years ago, locating in the countyl of Glengarry. Eight years later he' removed to Brockvi-llo and has made his home here ever since. lie estab- lished the large marble business Stlii‘ carried on by his sons here, and is himself one of the most expert stone-y cutters in the Dominion of Canada; He is also well known as an artist in1 other lines and as adraughtsmun liasl few equals and no superiors. Ample; evidence of this is afforded in the fuck that when the construction of the, Canadian Pacific Railway was begun” Sir Sanford Fleming, chief engineer‘ of the great trans-continental road. requested him to join his staff. Mr. def‘arle accepted the position at Sir Sanford’s request and remained with the company for nine years, (luring which time he drew nearly all the pro- files of the road and the. plans of the bridges between Ottawa and Thunder Bay. His work was commended as the best done by any draughtsman in the company‘s elmploy. Since leaving the company’s service Mr. de Cai'lc has liv- , ed a retired life, enjoying a well earned , competence at‘his cosy home in the; west end of the town. Mr. dc. Carle isI l possessed of a rugged constitulion and - had always enjoyed the best of health ' until the fall of 1896. Then he. was, stricken with an affection of tlielimbs , which much alarmed him. Speakingé with a Recorder representative the‘ other day, the conversation liappcned' to turn upon this event, and the cum; cumstanccs comn-cted therewith can best he told in his own words. Whilst, full" said he, “my legs became in such! a. condition that when lsat down i., had no power over them. i could not: move them one way or the other. and. was naturally much alarmed. l was‘ advised to try Dr. “'illiams' Pink Pills.l I had read of their curing cases sim- ilar to mine and so I ticcidell tol. give them a trial. I 'plll'l'llll'ieli asupâ€"l ply of the Pills and commenced tak- ing thcm according to directions. I had only taken them ashort lime when I found that. 'l was rcgaining the use of my legs and could raise: one up and cross the other \\'iiil~ out much difficulty. I also remarked to my wife that the pills wen- doing me much good and she. was both sur-l prised and dclighled when l allowed! her with what. case I could more. my, limlrs. l continued taking the pills} for nboult a month and by that lime i had as full control of my legs as I ever hadâ€"-iu fact vus complclely cumd. l have never has! a symptom of the. trouble since and am now as well .14 over i was. i attribute my cure cu: lirely to Dr. Williams' l’ink l’ills. in fact it must have. been the pills for i look nothing else, in the way of medi~ cine and I ('HIIDDI. too stronzlv re- commend them to anyone afflicted "a! 1 “ms. 'J‘E HilORS OF LOV i'i. 'l‘liry Hiy nm: that love is controllâ€" ed by vibration. That's so; itrcmbled when l pro~ posedâ€"t rambled when i asked her fall)- or for herâ€"trembled at the altar. and she has kept me shaking in my boots ever since. DJ US "i' LAST. I thought you said it was a (ray. of love at first eight. I did: but she soon got her second sight and weakened on me. “.- THB "DO ANYTHING” MAN. The man who tells you that. ho can "Do anything." will bring You ample proof on trial that He. can't do anything. accumulations can be rcinm'ed which are the root of so much mischief. A few elementary lessons in bacteriology would, we fancy, greatly startlc many people, and certainly would show them the futility of trusting to one. St rub a day. The fact is, that if people, in- stead of looking at the toothbrush from an aesthetic point of view and scrub. bing away with tooth powdersfll) to make their front. teeth white, would re- gard it morer as an aid to cleanliness, they would see. that the time to use it is after mcals and at night, not just in the morning only, when the. debris left from the day before has been for menting and brewing acid all night through. They would also see how in- sufficient an instrument the common toothbrush is unless it is used with considerable judgment. One of the secondary advantages of spending a good deal of money on den- tistry is that at least one learns the value of one'a teeth. By the time. we have. them dotted over with gold stop- pings and gold crowns we lcnin to takc cure of them. evan although that may involve the trouble of cleaning them more than once a day and using per- haps more than one brush for tho puia pose. l W ATIC it DRINKING. A health expert claims drinking free- ly of pure water is a most efficacious means not only of preserving health, but often of restoring it when failing. The majority of people, find it. hard to ,realize that the body should be kept clean inside as well as outside. Cleanli- ness of the tissues within the ltody is as necessary to health and comfort as cleanliness of the skin, and water. bonds to insure the one as well as it decs the, other. it dissolves the waste material which would otherwise collect in the body, and removes it; in the vari- ous cxcrctions. 'I'lmse waste maicrials are often actual poisons, and their re‘ tentlon is the cause of many a ill'ud- ache, many rheumatic pains, many sleepless nights, and many attacks of "the blues.” ’J‘llere bus not been en- ough water in the. body to wash them away, and consequently the. system has become clogged and dcmora'izcd. If these, few facts about the importance of water to the human body were wide- ly known and generally put into prac- tice, they Would do more to promote the health of the. human race than all the drugs in the pharmacopocia of the physician and pharmacist. .- FOR (.‘l-lAl’PJu'l) HANDS. A illeIiU‘IIIu'ilil‘ emollicnl. for chapped hands is compoundcd from an ounce of white wax and an ounce. of sperma- «will (fut. into slirn-ds and melt to- go! l:<-r in an (‘lli l imlioarc [a r : tlivn add an ounce of ('fllliivlillll'ih'li oil. stir llie lnlirwlicnls until they are wcli mchd, plum- lln- jar in a llasin'of. r-oid water, stir until the. crmini is cold, thou luck in little, jars for tho drvc-in r 2:! EN. if lhisisrublml on the bands nil-i lll'flir of \i'as'i-iuillier glove: worn iii. night the, rclief will be prompt. «.-- li‘iNGlg‘il RINGS. From iill' rcmolcst limes women have loved to adorn Lill'il‘ iinlflll'h with rings. and some of the mummies found in iii" Egyptian pyramids lmd limir {in- gcrs literally coir-rm! with them. Sumo- tiin-‘s till-w. rings were of gold, but at others they \h-rc of glass, pottery or bribe. according no doubt to the wealth of thc “careers. A ring is be- atowcd in marriage. bw-nuse it “as an- cu-ntly a sea! by which orders were signed. and tho delivery of the ring “as a token that a man gavc the. bear- er of it power to act as his dcputy. 'ihus a Yunnan. tuning lici' bualhnd'a signct rink. Lad power to issue orders as he loam-if would (in. SEA “LY THE SAME. Minister, to train colorful woman who has been complaining that her hus- band neglected and abused her-mlilwe you tried coan of fire on his head! No. massa but l‘se done tried but wav ter outcn de kettle.