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

By MARGARET LEE, Author a! Divorceâ€"A Brooklyn Bachelor-Lorine: and Wifeâ€"Ito. CHAPTER XX. "I am going to ask all these people. who are concerned in your welfare to dine herethis evening. We can dis- cuss the matter thoroughly and get ready for action toâ€"morrow. Let me see; this young fellow who under- stands about the business and thinks he could manage everything with my bank account behind himâ€"eh? We must have him. Then, that chap with the big heart and bright wit, who en- joys idlenessâ€"we'll need him to enliven us." "But is it wiseâ€"under the circum- stances i" “I think it is always wise to be sensi- ble. You must dine somewhere toâ€"- day; why not here? I know how you feel, child. Now let us talk this over from the bright side. You will be. willing to do me a kindness. I want this day to be one for you to recall always with delight. You have been too much absorbed and excited to reap lize what a. momentous day it is in your life. You shall put away all sad thoughts for toâ€"morrow, and we'll set about making your husband and his people feel happier, if only for a few hours. Now, we’ll assume that Ever- ett is alive and strongâ€"I have no doubt of the fact in my own mind. W'e'll place his chair at the foot of the table and drink to the absent. I'll get my notes off and then We'll plan all our little delights." Mr. Pounce wrote his invitations and left the room with them. Rose was grateful for the rest and quiet, and when the old man returned, her dreamy smile rewarded him for his goodness. She spoke playfully. “After all, there are fairy god-fath- ers in the world.” "It takes a good little girl to make one appear. You see, after all, my propensity for saving is going to re- sult in something very useful to you. 'Old money-bags,‘ as they call me, will open some of them and let you scatter the treasure. Perhaps, one of these days when I am going where money is not needed, you will come and hold my hand. You will not let me die neglected and aloneâ€"unloved, un- wept f” “Ah, but we were not to think of such things toâ€"day." "That is sol This is to be a lovely occasion. I have just been in the con~ servatory. You shall have Easter lilies to decorate the table and the lit- tle ones of the valley to wear. W'e’ll light up all the scones in the hall and diningâ€"room, and put great fires on the hearths. It will be strange if 1 can’t find something in this house to grace and honor your weddingâ€"day! 0 you prefer strings? Music is al- ways soothing, A quartet of strings, or what you please. And I have ordâ€" ered a. cakeâ€"that will please you, I know. Every girl thinks of her wed- ding-cake. 1 see you like pearlsâ€"I have some good ones." He looked at- tentively at the anchor, which had slipped from its lace covering. "Is that your motto? It is a proper one. Hope is a mainstay as well as an anch- or. Do you want to give your hus- band a pleasant surprise when he comes? You shall show him a pic- ture that will always be present to his eyes. Up in the olive room, in a box, you will find a white dress. I remembered that you chose that room as your favorite. Ioften buy costumes, You know a dress may be a work of art, as much as a book or a painting. I went some weeks ago to an exhibi- tion of imported gowns, and this one I thought worth having. It seemed to me then that it might have been de- signed for you. It is heavy and rich. the lines are all long and the stuff is heavy and rich. Then the draperies are delicate. They have some French name for the material; I forget it. ‘While you are making yourself more bride-like, I’ll find those pearls for you. I think the house will seem difâ€" ferent to me after toâ€"dayâ€"less like a museum and more like a home. Per- haps you will often come to bless it with your sweet influence?" "It is like being in fairyland, withâ€" out even the effort of waving the wand." -â€"_.â€"- CHAPTER XXI. Toward the end of the month. Rose yielded to her husband's advice and re- turned home with her father and grandmother. The citytwas hot and dusty, and the monotony of suspense was beginning to tell upon her ap- pearance. Carefully prepared state,L ments had apprised the public. that the bank was solvent. and that the pecuni- ary affairs of its missing president were in a flourishing condition. So the fact of his absence ceased to attract general notice and discussion, and his family pursued all known means for his discovery, with only dishearten- ing results. Mrs. Everett and Mollie remained in town. unwilling to be away if news should come. The fear of poverty and disgrace being removed, they could indulge in grief of ii purely personal nature. This passion resembled a spring which. overflowing suddenly. sweeps away all artificial boundaries and makes its natural channel. Mrs. Everett lived over her early years of married life, and traced, as it were on a map, the lines of departure from ways of love and consideration to those of selfishness and indifference. Her remorse troubled her son, who was trying to make hope and faith his sup- ports in the daily duties that fall to his share. Powers was irresistibly lovable and encouraging. He man- Iged to keep Everett in sight when away from home, going with him on end quests and cheering him with theories of bright, possible chances. fimw l Mr. Minturn went back and forth. ’doing kindnesses for everybody, and. inspired by his daughter’s faith, would ‘reach Everett with its influence still possessing and controlling him. Mr. Pounce revelled in new hopes. The young couple spent a week with him, and visions of future visits brought up the most exquisite pictures for his quiet contemplation. One lovely morning Rose looked at her calendar and realized that it was the first of June. b‘he had been enâ€" deavoring, by increasing her everytday Ucc“Pations, to lose sight of time, which seemed to creep with her. Life had suddenly become an enigma. It Was hard to feel that she could do no- thing to help those whom she loVed. She was sensible enough to admit to herself that she was best off in the country. 1181‘ presence in the City only added another to Larryjs cares, and he'had enough to burden him. the sat down on the porch to consider the beauty of the day and what use to make of it. . . The birds wore noisily pursuing their search for food, and a hummingâ€"bird that found honey in her Vlculllly m“ terested her. When it flew off to- ward the barn something impelled her to follow. This old barn was her most charming refuge for the enjoyment of day-dreams. Why not go in, find a fragrant seat in the hay, and think of the wonderful incidents that follow- ed her marriage? In spite of her preoccupation, she knew that the side door of the barn was openâ€"an unusual circumstance. However, it caused an extra draught, the morning was warm, and she plac- ed herself comfortably to enjoy the breeze. After a while she. made a pillow of hay, and while thinking of the strange condition of family affairs she dozed. When she awoke the drowsy sensation continued, so she indulged it, for she had become ac- qu‘iinted with restless nights. Coming out or a light sleep and lying quiet and thoughtful, she was conscious of a sound that was strange and unaccountable. Rose knew that her nerves were not in their normal condition, and her first impulse was to rise quickly and call one of the ser- vants. She had a natural shrinking from tramps and stray animals, and this peculiar noise was certainly pro- duced by heavy breathing. After reaching this conclusion, she looated the irregular respiration. Between her seat and the side door stood a row of stalls no longer in use, and they concealed the object of her conern. Sleep is helpless. She.summoned her courage, and going softly to the end bent forward and looked beyond it. The floor was cover- ed with loose straw, and stretched upon it was a figure that Rose knew well. For a second her heart seemed to be in her throat. She made no soundâ€"only observed; She was aware that for this man sleep was the great boon. 'His head rested on a small val- ise, his hat was carefully laid aSide, his gloved hands were comfortably placed in the straw, his light overcoat watchâ€"chain of the partition, was unbutioned, and his Iwas visible. _ ,V'i’hat a wonderful sight was. this! liose could only gaze upon it in an ecstasy of delight. Then a. sense of gratitudeâ€"overpowering, silent â€" pos- sessed h‘er. .l’i'esently,~ without losing sight of the barn, she ran noiselessly to the nearest wing and sent for Mrs. Min- turn. They decided upon the tele- gram, and then Rose went to keep her ljoyous vigil. At noon her grand- !mother relieved her while she late her lunch, and then she returned 'to her post. The family physician came at intervals, looked, put his finâ€" ger to his lips, and stole back to the house. Roi‘e imagined the effect of her telegram. \Vlien the sun was low in the west and the bees that inhabit- ed ihe barn were returning so heavily laden that they passed close to her fucu. Rose was attracted by a slight, broken sigh, and met Mr. Everett’s cyes fixed upon hers. A startled ex- prcsaion changed to one of eager sat- isfaction. He looked about him, and seemed gradually to recognize his sur- roundings. He spoke slowly. “\Vhero am 1?” "Taking a little nap in the barn." "When did I get here?" "This morning.” “That was quite an inspiration. I made up my mind yesterday. the mo- ment I felt my head growing heavy and numb, to come here. I left the office and started. I knew that Larry's little girl would be glad to see me. and I thought of the restful at- mosphere of this spot. But. dear me! I have had most vivid, disagreeable dreams! It seems to me that I have been changing cars for an indefinite lperiod of time. Did you ever have such a dream " "Indeed, yes. You want to reach a place, but you always go in the wrong direction. It wears you out, in sleep." “That's it exactly." "But. you see. you are here with us, and it is nearly dinner-lime. Daddy h'ld some business that called him away, so grandma and I will have you all to ourselves." "Did you know, I really have. an appetite. So much for country air and a sound sleep." "Will you take my arm?" Rose laughed. "No, you shall have mine. 0h, we're going to have a jolly little vaca- tion. I won’t be needed for a week. at least, and Larry is bent on winning prizes. \Vc won't interfere with him -ehf" , Rose slowly collected her senses, and having shown Mr. Everett to his mom, she consulted Dr. Coleman, who was reading in the library. He Concluded to happen in accidentally and stay to dinner, make his own notes, and then meet the Evereits at the train and give them his opinion and advice. . The dinner proved charming in every particular, and having lingered for a little chat and a smoke with Mr. Everett, Dr. Coleman reluctantly pleadediprofessional duties. His de- cision was most satisfactory. He sent Mr. Miniurn home to mount guard over his self-invited guest, told young Everett to return to New Haven. and counselled Lire. Everett and Mollie to go back to the city and quietly remove all traces of their recent tryingordeal. His reason: were perfect. Eveiyihing now depended upon giving Mr. Everett the complete repose of mind that he expected. He had chosen his place of refuge, and there he was safe and in good care. In due time Mr. Miniurn arrived with prope'r circumstance and attention, and found Mr. Everett and Rose on the porch discussing Larry. Later on, after Mr. Everett had retir- for the night, Rose received a little note, and going a short distance down the road, found Larry awaiting her. ‘He had driven himself over in a light wagon, and they took a turn in the. dewy air and compared happiness Joy is a giantâ€"a perfect force. When the throng of graduates as- sembled for their Class Day glorifica- tion, Everett held his coveted place in the ranks. ’His party was a large one. It included his father, in buoyant health and spirits: a venerable gentle- man with sharp eyes and a stout stick, who devoted himself to a handsome old lady; and a tall girl with bronze hair and a brilliant smile, who went about with him and was made known to his intimates as "my wife." The End. lllflll lLllllllfl ; “18 R013! [ll “18 [Mill CHAPTER I. One Sunday morning, late in Octo- ber, the church bells were ringing merrily from the square grey tower at the end of the village, and the red yellow leaves were fluttering down in quick little showers from the over- hanging limes and chestnuts on eith- er side of the road. ~ A trout stream rustled and gurgled With a pleasant murmur lhi'ougli a narrow green meadow which divided the straggling irregular street of thatched and gabled cottages on the right, from the old church, in its green churchyard to the left. It, the church, stood upon a little conical hill, ihaL lifted it above the road, so that any- one upon the bridge across the river could only see the porch and the lower portion of the ivied walls, and the green, swelling graves that surround- ed ihem; all the upper part was hid- den by the long arching boughs of the avenue trees that led up to it, and whose. branches, like friendly hands, stretched forth and interlaced themâ€" selves overhead. On this particular Sunday morning, the auLumn sunshine glinted down through the halfâ€"stripped branches, and lay in yellow streaks upon the road beneath. It came down, too, with a sunny radiance upon the little flat, green meadow, and upon the rippling waves of the river, lighting up all the brown pebbles at the bottom of the shallowâ€"stream. The speckled trout lay basking in the warmth, here and there, under ihe stones, or darted about swift- ly in the opalescent water. Leaning upon the stone parapet of the bridge, looking down with akeen interest at the spasmodic movements of the finny tribe, was a young man of six-aindâ€"Lwenty. He was tall, and rather slight in build, 'and he had smooth, dark hair, and eyes that were as brown and translucent as the waters into which they were gazing. He was pleasant-looking, rather than hand- someâ€"he might not, possibly, be ever mistaken for a hero, but he would nevâ€" er, in any company, have been taken for anything but. a gentleman. His clothes were the ordinary coun- try dress of a gentleman on a week- dayâ€"a brownish tweed suit, and a brown pot-hatâ€"there was about his at- tire no trace of the “go to meeting," orthodox black coat, which the rclig- ious ceremonies of the seventh day seem to exact of us as a moral neces- sity. Ergo, this young man, had, evi- dently, no intention of obeying ihc mundane of those tinkling bells, not a bun .cd yards away from where he stood. The villagers, in groups of three or four, in twos, or singlyâ€"in best bon- nets with blue and red ribbons, in long cloaks puckered up round their necks, or in clean smocks of faded green and dingy drabâ€"«name hobbling by on their road to morning service. The school children trooped past with the neat little iezicher behind themâ€"his little sisters and their governess hurried by himâ€"but still the young man in the brown suit, with the clear brown eyes, turned his back upon the village com- niunity, and stared down at the trout in the rippling stream, " Not going to church f' cried a voice behind him." 0h, Geoff! I wish you would! it does set such a bad example. to see you lounging here when every- body else is going to church.“ Thus reproachfully addressed, Geof- frey Dane slightly turned his head. but did not otherwise alter his posi- tion. There stood behind him nyoung lady with a number of hymn-books, and a roll of music under her arm. She had a clever but not a pretty face, and Ella had brown eyes like her brother'sâ€"only ihey were not quite so pleasant tolook atâ€"and the had no pretensions to ele- grinoe either of ferm or attire, but wore a plain, useful stuff gown. very =.hort, to keep it out of the mud. and ‘1 pair of good strong country boots upon her feet. The eldest Miss Don» was organist and their leader in her father's church, and was on her way to Sunday morning duty. She was two years older than her brother, and was .1 good specimen of a hard-working. sensiblaminded, country clergyman‘s daughter. She was her father‘s right hand, and the prop and supportâ€"as well as the admonisherâ€"of the whole village of Coddishzim. a “My dear child," said young Done. in answer to this young woman‘s some- what dictatorial appeal, "Do you im- ;igine that I come down all the way from London to Coddishiim in order to set :i good example to ihe village i“ “I think you needn‘t at all events flaunt your Sabbath~breaking in the face of the whole Parishâ€"it isn‘t really respectable." “If you worked as hard as I do from Monday to Saturday, you would be glad enough too not to be what you call ‘respectable’ on a fine Sunday morn- ing like this. Go on, Flo, you will be late." With a gesture, half of anger, half of sorrow, Florence Dane hurried on and left him, Presently, came by the Vicar, but he only shook his head with a smile as he passed his son. " Not going to honour me, Geoff i‘ " Not this morning, sir; you said you were going to preach about the pro- digal son, and you always have a cut fitt ,me over that parable. I can‘t face i .' The Vicar laughed. He was broader- minded, and perhaps, too, easier-going than his daughter, as a man who had read much and thought much would be likely to beâ€"Florence took ihemore practical if more narrowing aspect of the details of daily life, but it did not shock Mr. Done at all that his son should prefer an idle morning on the bridge. with his pipe, and the sunshine. and the trout, to the long service in the crowded little church; he thought it very natural for a man who was moped up in a London office all the year round, and would have been more inclined to blame him for a pharisnical attendance, than for his more honestL absence. _ So Geoffrey stayed on the bridge, and it was not accounted unto him «for s1n. Bye and bye the church bells stopped, and the last straggler went in, and the doors were shut, and there fell a profound silence upon the road, and the world without. Now that the clanging sounds Were hushed, you could bear, with a delicious distinolness, the soft undertone of Nature’s voice, the gurgling of the running water, the farâ€" away "Coo-coroo” of a wood-pigeon, and even the rustle of each particu- lar little brown and yellow leaf as it floated down to its death upon the moist bosom of the earth. The young man upon the bridge might have been carved out of stone. so quiet, so immovable did he remain: and so intensely was he in harmony with the absolute and delicious stillness round him. How long this lasted he never after- wards could have told you, but all at once, he became aware with that strange occult instinct that we all pos- sess, more or less, though few of us know the why or wherefore of it, that he was no longer alone in that still landscape. Some presence had invaded his solitude, some other human entity beyond his own shared in the sweet influences of (he sunshine and the air. He lifted his head sharplyâ€"and saw the figure of a woman coming slowly along the road towards him under the over-arching branches of the chestnut trees. There was something in the as- pect of this female figure which caus- ed Geoffrey Dame's brown eyes to open themselves to their widest and full- est, thereby displaying the fact that they were very beautiful eyesâ€"and :11â€" so still further to give signs of aston- ishment by a sudden reversal of him- selfâ€"that is to say, whereas up to now he had lennt forwards upon the para- pet of th.n bridge. he now lennt back- wards upon it. supporting himself wiih his elbows behind him upon the wall, so that he faced the on-coming figâ€" ure along the road. 7 u The reasons of this practical although simple expression of surprise and in- terest were twofold. Firstly, he had never seen the person who was advanc- ing towards him in his life. before, which, considering that he knew ev- ery man. woman and child within a radius of ten niilos from Coddisbnm. was peculiar, and Secondly, in the whole course of his existence hr! had never, to his knowledge, seen anybody yet in the very least like her. To be Continued. THE BOY AND HIS CAP. IIclng n Brh-f Account of n Fumlllur "our-w hold lm-ldciif. 1" HOW i sac m. WHEN THE BLOOD IS PURE AND' RICE IT WILL HEAL RAPIDLY. N. I‘M: l-‘nci Demonstrated II the Case of Chester Guru-y. Who lad Been Troubl- ed With 3 Running Sore For more Than a Year. From the Times, Owen Sound. 111 the township of Sarawak, Grey coiiniy, iherc is probably no better known or respected farmer than T1108. Gawley. of East Linton. PO. Learning illlt his nephew a young lad now about ten years of age had been cured of a disease of his leg which threatened not only ihe loss of (he limb, but also of (he life of the little fellow, a re- porter of the Times made enquiry, and we are convinced ihat the wonder working powers of Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills for Pale People lmve not ex- hiuSied themselves. Meeting Mr. Gawley in one of the drug stores of the town, he was asked if the reported cure was a fact. His face lighied up with a smile as he said, "Indeed it is, sir. .I was afraid we were going to lose the lad, but 110i is now as well as ever, hearty and strong." Asked for particulars, 1dr. Gawley did the most natural thing in the world. referred the reporter to his wife, who in telling the case said :â€"â€""In the month of Sep- tember, 1897, my nephew, Chester (rawley, who lives with us, became afflicted with a severe pain in his left leg. In a few days the limb became badly swollen and painful, and the family physician was called in. The case was a perplexing one. but it was decided after a few days to lance the leg. This was done. but the wound infzicted would not heal up. but be- came a running sore. The little fol- low soon was reduced to almost a skelâ€" eton. This continued through the winter monéhs, and we thought he would never gel off his bed again. In April .two of the best physicians of Owen Sound operated on the leg for disease of the. lions, resorting to scraping the bone. in spite of this treatment the wound continuedio run. and we were in despair. In August a friend residing in ll'luniloii.l\faiiiiolia, advised us to try Dr. Williziins' Pink Pills. \Ve commenced to use lhem at once,nnd in a short time sevei‘ulpieces of the bone came out of the sore. and before the boy h‘ll'l taken four boxes the leg was completely cured. This was over a year ago, and Chester is now well and as strongin the left leg. which caused the trouble. as in the other. 01” course I recommend highly the use of Dr.‘\\’illi:ini~i' Pink Pills." Such is the story of _lll(‘. fourth cure which it has been our pleasure to re- port from Owen Sound. (“banter (lawâ€" lcy is growing up into a i'trong liciil~ thy lad. and it is but adding another“ tribute to Dr. \l'illium-‘i’ l’ink Pills to say that they were the instrument in his restoration to bodily vigor. Dr. \Villiams’ Pink Pills create new blood, and in this way drive disease from the system. A fair trial will connince the most skeptical. Sold only in boxes the wrapper around whii-libears lhe fulltrade mark "Dr. \Villizi.ms' Pink Pills for Polo People. If your dealer does not have them lhcy will be sent post paid at 50 cents abox or six boxes for $2 5’], by addressing the Dr. \Villianis hfedicine C0., Brock- ville, Ont. - ~ «soâ€"- ~~--â€"â€"â€"- COSTLY LEATHEHS. lTscil Iii flaking I’ncln-Ibouks and Similar Ai-tii'lcs. The newest leather for pocketbooks, card cases, letter cases and that sort of thing is rhinocerous skin. This tons a russet brown and it is finished with a soft surafce ill'll has a rich, velvety appearance. It is a beautiful Leather, and besides being the newest it is al- 50 the costliest leather used for those purposes; a gold-iiioiimi-d pockeiboak of rhinocm'ous skin would cost $35. Another leather new this year in those uses in sea lion. This fans with a hard finish. and is a sort of steel onlor. Sezi lion C(lHlS a little more than bill: as much as rhinoceros. A sea lion pocketbook, gold mounts-d, would cost $20, the some as one of elephant skin. BREAKFAST IN HIS CAB. There is :i fashimable London phy- sician who realizes the value of lime _â€"or possibly the Villfl‘ of advertising. Ilis mornings ill‘t! pleasantly occupied in paying professional visils to his pu» iii-.nls. Now bi'onkfagl is usually mil.â€" i ' ' , u n - ' _ . i "I cant find my cap "n5“hm'I “Ii-n in the iimrniiig. Harv is :in :ippzir- a sentence more or less familiar in lllllirfll conflict. Genius is bug-ii illiisi r: it‘ll household, that being what says, looking for his czip, when lll' wants to go out to play. Early in ihe search he enlists his mother, and ilml may make a serious busincss of it. Sh" has to drop her dusting. or whatever houseâ€" hold work she may be engaged in, and the search may take a lung iimc. “\Vhere did you put it when you came in,“ is a question sure to be ask- ed, sooner or later, but all the boy c-in answer it: "1 don‘t know." And then the search goes on. Every~ where, over and under. in all sorts of places. all at a great loss of lime, f not of temper. it is found :it inst, as most things are, in lime, and in some simple easy place, which makes the finding of it all the more exasperating. The boy takes it and goes out to play and straighiwny forgets all about it; but it may take quite a little time to restore the normal calm in the house. It is a mystery how the boy n‘mn‘igmi to lose his cap as often as he does, but it appears to be a boy's any, and common to almost all. HER FINDINGS. - I l Hm ""-V by iiizikiiig mnllicl ing foam ngiw. 'l b.- pbysiv'ip cuis iiis breakfast in his bin-ugh if“. It is pm inlo :i llll'i' linings-r. 'l‘lil-ise is :i f3:il-i.ililie Iii illt‘ :l‘nh! .gf lllf' (f'll'l'lflfli‘. l.'|:'vll llll‘. llw ilm' or Comfortably eats his winning 4"“: :iui roll, and ibose who see him thus in- gagcd :iri- variously llllpl‘f‘SS“ll. A SAFE Sl’rX‘l’lu‘l'l'lUN. lli.-ks-â€"-‘i’uu know Hiakwn. ibo- m ll' ii-r of llle Firming Hank! \Vo‘ll, b‘ made 8100.01“ in a min boom «ii-:il in less than six wr-i-kii. 'lll‘ll'a whai :i man gets by h‘l\’an lulll'JiKH. \‘l'icksâ€"ll's all vary wufl swing that hit was riicccsrifiii; bu nuiiimno there had been a sudden drop in -’b.: marks-l and wiped out Siakviii's n.n:~ gins! “irksâ€"Ho wouldn't baw- lmt on"- ihing. Ilc usual ibe bank's money in his xix-rulalions. ltlil) l.'(."l‘l US. How women change. mid Ihv iii- a who his been married a year. My wife used to write to me and M‘ll'l Hi‘ a bushel of kisses in ll‘l‘ letters. Um. mid the man who has it n Does your wife ever find fault whenI marrle a quarter of n u-nzury. you happen to stay out late at night! No; she is generally too busy find-- ing my hair. But now. when I have for Ill. “Hi n sh“ just gives me a peck. nnl a short one at that. w- “- ...â€" W-...-â€"â€"â€" ..._.._.......n N... .