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i i l . LI»; , mumâ€"s... na»m=mwr..i.~... “4-H. WI ..' WWW - "~â€".-â€"_â€"_‘" â€".-â€"â€".‘ was)...” ,,,__...._4.__._~_~. on, THE RESULT OF 'A FANCY DRESS BALL .' I , _ iigeflwfie CHAPTER VII. to stay to afternoon Having waited until four o’clock, presumably on the chance of seeing the young woman who has been meted out to him as a bride, he rises abruptly. "I fear there is no chance of my seeing your sister toâ€"day?” "I’m afraid not,” says Diana with hesitation. "But if you wait for tea ~â€"â€"-” she hesitates again. What she was going to say or hint was, that if he did wait, perhaps Hilary might then have come in from her supposed walk. But the hypocrisy is too much for her. And yet, would -it have been a lie? 1f he does stay, most undoubtedly he will see her face to face. ‘ “Thanks, I'm afraid I can’t stay any longer,” says Ker a little stifl'ly, 1.0 her intense relief. her for a moment. and then says shortly, “Have you a photograph of her?” “A photograph of Hilary” Diana’s tone is faint. The ground seems to have opened up beneath her feet. She casts a terrified glance round her, to the tables, the cabinet, the chimâ€" ney-piece. If there should be one of Hilary’s here, and he should notice the likeness! ' H 0 ref u 505 tea , however. A wave_of thankfulness sweeps over 1 her as she sees that the little stands on which Hilary used to smile, and look grave, and ponder over impossi- ble baskets of flowors, have all been carefully removed. ‘ “I think I ought to have one,” says she uncertainly. “Upstairs, perhaps. If you ,wili forgive me a 1nomentâ€"â€"â€"” “Certainly,” says Ker, who is looking at ' her with some surprise. Her evident discomposure has struck him. What kind of girl is this I-Iilâ€" ary Burroughs? What mystery surâ€" rounds her? Yet’ Mrs. Dyson-Moore, when he had questioned her cautiousâ€" 1y, had assured him she was pretty, charming, and all the rest of it. ‘Diana. leaves the room hurriedly, glad of a. chance of arranging her ihoughts and her next lie, as she tells herself somewhat bitterly. H'il- ary had no right to lead her into this sort of thing. Why, if the children only knew! Good gracious! it would demoralizc them forever. They would read her lectures for the future! Ker, left to his own resources, moves mechanically toward the winâ€" dow. Why should Mrs. Clifford rc- .I_1.LL1_L_L_LLLLL wmllllllLLL” MAJâ€"M .I __.._â€"â€"â€"â€"â€".â€"__.. He looks at] I __J It suggested a existing between Was it a criminal says “yes” should hear him. confidential secret them! A secret! secret? The shrubberies be this. No doubt the assignation there had been arranged beforehand. ‘This would account for Clifford’s withâ€" drawal from the drawing-room half an hour ago. He had muttered something to his wife on going, some thing about a visit to one of tho farmsâ€"but of course he was bound to make some excuse, to give an exâ€" ‘planation, however vague, for his go- =ing. Of course he knew that this would Ebe a safe opportunity to meet that -â€"that-â€"beautiful girl ! _ Ker would have liked to apply some bad epithet here to the parlorâ€" maid, but somehow it does not come :to him. It all savors so strongly .of a low intrigue, that that word {strikes upon his brain, but it seems 'impassible to connect the word irr- trigue with her. Her face rises beâ€" ;fore himâ€"the eyes so clearâ€"the brow rso openâ€"the lovely, happy lips. And yet, this evidence! He pulls himself together angrily! Certainly something ought to be done! Diana. should be told! But 'then, who is to tell her? Ker, with -a sudden pang, acknowledges that it Would be impossible for him to draw upon the parlormaid. At this instant Diana returns. "I’m so sorry,” says she calmly. “But there is no photograph of Hilâ€" ary to give you.” . This is an ambiguous sentence. It might mean anything! “No photoâ€" 'graph to give him.” She evidently means to convey the idea that there is not one to give, But to Ker, now, with his suspicions thoroughly awakened, it conveys only the thought. that there may be many, but not for him to see. He expresses a polite regret, says good-bye to his hostess, and having been accompanied by her to the door in the friendliest fashion, leaves the house. He has hardly gone one step be- yond the hallâ€"door when Hilary thrusts her charming head out. of the diningâ€"room door. ' CHAPTER VIII. "He’s gone?” questions she. “Thank Heaven! Oh, Hilary, what a day we’ve had!” “And by no means 'cheap,’ H says fuse to let him see a. photograph of Hilary. Who really is hOPCIGSSly fl‘iV' her sister? Is she ugly ? could take Mrs. Dysonâ€"Moore’s opinâ€" ion of any one. She would probaâ€" bly call you ugi‘y if you were pretty, just for spite, or pretty if you were â€"if you looking parlormaid. She’s pretty, if you like! Odd he. hadn’t thought much about that last. night, but he Nobody l wereâ€"~â€" What a. strangeâ€" I olous. “No. No indeed! All I’ve sufferâ€"- ed! I wouldn’t do it again for anyâ€" thing. I-lilary, I’ve counted them up, and I think I told him four de- cided lies. And the worst of it is. I thinks he. suspects something.” “What makes you think that ? Non-sense, Di! There was nothing. had remembered her when h'e had seen i I’m SUIT! I think I Was the llGSt 1’11!“ her again. Clifford picked her up? He could swear she was never born a parlor- maid. And, by Jove! There she is! There she is indeed! Out there in the garden, just where the shrubherâ€" ies begin; with her charming head in delicate relief against the green of the‘laurels behind it, with her lips apart, and her eyes smilingâ€"and her arm tucked in the most unmistakably .‘ I “Yes. lwas quite natural. :he ask for it? But when he did, I as- r e - Where on earth had him, .lormaid you have had for years.” “Still I‘m sure he has found out something. His manner was quite changed before he left. A little stiff, and he kept looking at me in ithe strangest way. He asked for iyour pho tograph.” “What?” For your photograph. It Why shouldn’t sure you my heart sank. I thouf‘;ht confidential fashion into the arm of if? should have fainted, but Providen- â€"her master! After stares, as if disbelieving his own senses. Is that Clifford, or one of the men? A groom, perhaps. There is, however, no mistaking Jim Clif- ford, the, strong, kind, manly face, the broad shoulders, the goodly length of limb. "Good Heavens! If his wife were to see him now,” says Ker, in a horri- fied tone. Involuntarily he glances toward the door! If she. should come back, and by some ill chance go to the window and look outâ€"~andâ€"â€"â€" He looks out again himself hur- riedly. The”guilty pair,” already designated them, are now fast disappearing throng-h the shrubâ€" bery. The last glance he gets of them tells him that they are. both convulsed with laughter. l'e has had but a short acquain- i 'l'rish tially some one had removed you.” “Don’t. talk as if you were an Invincible,’ ” says Hilary with reproach. “I hope I shan’t be removed in-their way. As a fact I took all my photos out of the room myself. It occurred to me that he might see one of them.” “How you think of things!” says Diana with admiration. "Nevertheâ€" lless,” descending once more into the llowest depths, “when he went away ‘he left us full of suspicions.” “Is that all he left us?” says Hil- fary with a disgusted air. She as he has glances round her and at this momâ€" ‘ent her eyes fall upon the umbrella ;stand. “You have wronged him,” iCl'lCS she. “The noble creatures! I :knew he would leave us something Behold his stick!” A good, serviceableâ€" 'worth having. i There it is! l i J l fact that, finding his hand empty, and therefore awkward, he had dis- covered the loss of his stick and Was returning for it. _ Just as he comes to the clump of rhododendrons that hide the house from View, he sees a charming, lithe figure \‘running toward him. Such a figure. Not of fun certainlyâ€"though inn is quick in it, espccially in the eyes and mouth, if veiled. A lovely thing she seems to him, all life, and that at its sweetestâ€"with her soft hair flying loosely round her brow and her Tips :1. little parted. "Your stick, sir,” cries sherdemure- ly, as she comes up to him. He had stopped on seeing her, as if studying the strange charms that belong to this strangest of all strange parl'or- maids. “Thank you,” says Ker. He takes the stick mechanically, as if not thinking of it, and then says sud- denly: “I think it was you who gave me that glass of .water last night.” ‘ His tone is cold, even severe. “Yes, sir,” returns the maid reâ€" spectfully. "And it was you,” with a little glance at him from under the lung lashes, “who gave me”â€"â€"hesita- tineg and fumbling in her pocketâ€" “this!” She has brought out the memor- able florin, and is now holding it up between her thumb and forefinger. “Well?” says Ker. “I have been thinking, sir,” gazing with evident sadness at the florin, “that a glass 'of water is not worth two shillings. An idiotic sense of gladness sud- denly overcomes Ker. After all-â€" even in spite of that scene in the shrubberiesâ€"she must be a. good girl, an honest girl, one whose con- science forbids her to take more than her due. Such extreme delicacy of conscience is not common with her class. Her class! He is aroused frOm his reveries by the good girl. “Will you take it back, sir?” She is holding out the florin to him. “Nonsense!” says Ker, coloring furiously. » “Then I may keep it?” “Of course,” frowning. “Forever?” as she stands withthe handkerchief pressed against her eyes. A very pretty handkerchief of the very finest cambric. “Poor Diana’s, of course,” he tells himself. At this moment “Bridget” glances [at him from behind her shield. “I hope you won’t tell the mistress sir,” says she in woebegone tones. "I? Why should I tell her?” says Ker indignantly. “What I think so scandalous is, that there should be anything to tell her.” "Yes, sir." She has gone behind the handker- chief again, and her shoulders are shaking. Evidently she is crying hard. “To me,” says Ker, a little softenâ€" ed by this evidence of contrition, "your mistress seems both good and kinc .” “Oh, yes, she is, sir;.she is indeed. You can’t think how kind.” . "Then I think it abominable of you,” spoken sternly. "to betray her in that sort of way.” “I won’t do it again, sir. I won’t, indeed!” Her voice is quite stifled now. She is plainly in floods of tears. Ker begins to feel quite sorry for the poor, misguided girl. No doubt Clifford is greatly in fault. This pretty creature has only wanted one word from a friend...a real friendâ€"to Show her the iniquity of her ways, and waken her to a sense of her inâ€" gratitude toward a kind mistress. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” says he, “and-â€"â€"â€"” Ho pauses. Someâ€" how Diana’s sad fate recurs to him again. How is she to be defended against a bad husband, and this so evidently easily-led girl ? “I wish,” says he impulsively, “that you would try to be a good girl.” "I’ll try,” says Bridget, who now seems suffocating. “That’s right,” says Ker heartily. “And you won’t tell misses, sir?” “You know that,” says he a little stiffly. Is she only desirous. after all, of getting off scotâ€"free? Her face, lnow open to his inspection, the hand- kor chief having been lowered, helps to this idea. It is just as it was before it went behind the flag of dis- "Forcver and ever,” says he, laugh- tress, lovely, bright, paleâ€"pink. ing now in spite of himself. “Well, I shall,” says the counterâ€" feit Bridget. “If only,” with a senâ€" timental sigh, and downcast eyes, ‘ ‘to remember! ’ ’ “To remember what?” “Ah! never mind.” "'But I do mind,” says Ker, who has somehow forgotten for the moâ€" ment that monstrous episode in the shrubbcries. “I’m sorry for that,” placidly. “Well,” with a respectful smile, "I shall keep it, sir, anywayâ€"forever.” “Did any one ever keep a tvoâ€" shilling piece, forever?” asks Ker with some amusement. A "I shall!” says Bridget sweetly. “I’ll make a hole in it, and hang it round my neck.” "That’s very good of you," says Ker. “I shall, like to think I was! the giver of it.” All at once he pulls himself to- gether. Memory has supplied him with a picture! Once again he sees this girlâ€"this sirenâ€"with her arm in Clifford’s, and her face uplifted to his in evident confidence. He can almost hear the light laughter with which she and he disappeared into the shubbery. He can almost hear too, he tells himself, with a return of his former indignation, the weepâ€" ing of poor, pretty, faithful, Diana, when the truth, as eventually no doubt it will be, is laid bare to her. “Look here,” Says he sternly, turn- ing to the “siren,” “I think I saw you just now, out there,” pointing in the direction of the laurelâ€"walks. “No, sir?” “Yes, you.” “Perhaps. I was gathering laurel- leaves, sir, for cook to put in the milk?” “No, you were not,” says Ker shortly, “you were talking toâ€"your master!” I “Oliâ€"-Iâ€"â€"” She grows crimsonâ€"so crimson, so undeniably embarrassed, that Ker for the second feels his heart stop beating. Yet why should it stop? She is guilty! This hot blush must be one of shame. And yet to blush at all, is not that a sign of grace? It horrifies him to find presently that he is even at this last hour striving to condone the culprit’s fault. As a fact, Hilary is completely taken aback by his attack. She had not anticipated it. When laughing with Jim over the absurd situations at luncheon it had not occurred to either her or him that they could be seen from the drawingâ€"room window. They had thought of Ker as being engaged with Diana. Hilary had really run out to get some laurel- !ancc With Clifford, certainly, yet i‘n‘looking stick of cherry-wood, with a leaves to put into the milk that is that time he had learned to regard him as an essentially honest man; a. thoroughly good fellow. ‘So much for appearances. Never will he trust. in them again. He would have staked his life on Clifford’s pro- bity, yet here he is holding a clanâ€" destine meeting with his own parlor~ maid, in his own grounds! What a despicable hypocrite! Ker had noticâ€" ed one or two little touches between him and his wife at luncheon, that had seemed to betray a thorough understanding between themâ€"a thor- ough and lasting affection; and now, what is he to think Of those delicate “touches”? He remembers now been other “touches” too, by no means “delicate” apparently... That sudden lipâ€"springing of Clifford help her open that bottle of His tone when he did so : “Go on. I'll do it!” It was a low tone, but familiar, terribly familiar. Low, of course, for fear his wife ithin band of silver round the neck lof it. { “How could he have forgotten it?” ;says Diana. “Did you ever hear of ,a man forgetting his stick before? ill‘is gloves if you like, orâ€"â€"” “His head?” “Nonsense. He is going away for in. week, and will want. it. 1 supâ€" i‘pose I had better send it over to .he Dysonâ€"Moores’." “Why, he can’t be gone beyond the agate yet," says Hilary. "I’ll run after him with it.” “Hilary, don’t! No. you mustn’t! Besides he must be gone quite be- yond the gate by this time. And be- that there had isidcs_’ "I’ll chance it !" says Hilary. She catches up the stick, darts like a to modern Atalanta through the- door- alc. way, and is gone up the avenue be- fore Diana has fime to‘collect anâ€" other argument. ' She would probably not have ever- taken him, however, but for the l l to make. the children’s rice for supâ€" per, and had there met Jim on his way to the farm that lay beyond the mill over there. They could not resist a hurried laugh over the lun- cheon, and so had beenâ€"discovered. Her embarrassment, after a momâ€" ent, gives way to other feelings. Having run lightly in her mind over the facts of the case, as they must seem to Ker, an overpowering sense of mirth makes her its slave. What had he thought? that she was flirting with Jimâ€"poor old Jimâ€"behind the inistress’ back? It seems too funny “for anything. With a View to having her amuse- ment, she pulls out her handker- chief and buries her face in it. To Ker it seems that she is crying. through four, no doubt, he‘tells himâ€" self contfcmptuously. He feels no pity for her; that absolute untruth about the picking of the laurel-leaves for the cook has disgusted him. It was too ready a lie! Iâ€"Ie watches her “I’d like to shake hands with you over that, sir.” I "I‘he lovely parlor-maid holds out her hand to him and perforce he «feels that he must take it. What a very white delicate hand ! He looks at it as it lies within his own. , ’ "Never does a stroke of work if she can help it evidently. Leaves all to poor Diana,” decides be. He rests his eyes on hers. “It seems to me, Bridget, that you are not a very industrious girl,” says he austerely. “But why, sir ‘2" "Your hands. hands." Didget looks at them. She spreads them abroad, indeed, as if examining the offending members with great interest. I _“Arre they too white, sir?” asks she at last. “Much too white.” I “You,” thoughtfully. “would like 'them to be brown?” She holds them up before Ker's eyes. They look pale as paper in the sunlight. “I don’t know what: I want,” says :Ker angrily. He turns upon his lheel, and leaves her. [ (To be Continued. +â€" Look at your lilflTlUllS Wig WAR FADS' ill’EETI-IODS OF WARFARE Of DIFFERENT COUNTRIES . Russia Must Have British Coalâ€" Britain Approves of Dumâ€" Dum Bullet. Every nation is touchy on- some point in connection with war. In the present struggle we shall probabâ€" ly hear many complaints made by either party as to one or, the othei having committed some breach of the ‘ "laws of war.” Very few wars take place without some such complaints. Russia has herself started grumbling, on the ground that Japan made a "treacherous" attack on her ships at Port. Arthur without first declarâ€" ing we. '. . The charge is unjustifiable, for over fsixty wars of the last century were started without a formal declaration. In fact, declarations of war have gone out of fashion. Nearly ,all the Powers agreed at the Hague Conference that permanent arâ€" bitration was a very desirable thing. But Germany protested, and her , acâ€" tion prevented the idea being generalâ€" 1 1y adopted. The Kaiser and his Government declared that to be comâ€" pelled to submit disputes to arbitraâ€"I ition was “dangerous and derogatory to a monarch’s sovereignty and, indeâ€" pendence,” and the Kaiser refused to pledge himself to bow to the decis- ions of' judges not appointed by him, on a case that had not arisen. A great grievance of Russia against “perfidious Albion,” which is decided- ly comical, is the very fact that we are neutral. This alone cripples Rus- sia’s passage to the Far East, by re- stricting her coal supply at our staâ€" tions on the route. Britain cannot even sit still without offending someâ€" body. THE PARTICULAR FAD of the United States is an objection to privateering and attacks on mer- chant shipping in times of war. She adopted the grievance as a. result. of. the Alabanna maraudings in 11866, by- which Scores of the Federal ships Were sunk. The Alabama was proved to have been built in Britain, and to have sailed from a British port, and a r, $1.? fl? )â€"'â€" [we were adjudged guilty, and made- to pay $15,000,000 for the damage. This has rankled with America ever since, and whenever a conference of' the Powers is summoned she seeks to- raise the question. ’ The United States had the opporâ€" tunity of securing the abolition of' privateering in 1857, in the Declara- tion of Paris, but she refused to sign any such convention unless the Pow-v ers also agreed to stop all interferâ€" ence with merchant traffic during war. In this attitude America also refused to" admit several other important ar- ticles, such as the rights of blockade and the respect of a neutral. flag con~ veying an enemy’s commerce. Her principal enemy in this fad' about the freedom of merchant comâ€"- merce is Great Britain. It would be- dead against our interests t0‘consent to it, as in time of war one- of our strongest assets will be the power of‘ our fleet to hamper an enemy's trade by closing our ports and channels to his ships. But both Britain and America. re~ served the right to use “projectiles intended to diffuse asiiliyxiating or deleterious gases.” All the other~ Powers, with a few trifling exceptions agreed, at the Hague Conference, to. deny' themselves THESE LUXURIES IN WAR. The United States, again, is not a. signatory to the Geneva Convention. This is an agreement to enable Powâ€" ers to organize relief societies to at“ tend the sick and wounded in time of war. It was concluded as a result. of the horrors of suffering experienced. at the Battle of Solferino, in 1859. and was signed by fourteen Goverir ments. America, however, (lid not support it. Britain, for her part, has just as‘ large a catalogue of fads as anybody else. Some seem to be sensible. oth- ers not. We showed ourselves to be- very determined in 1874 when invited to attend the Brussels Conference. This was summoned with a view to humanizing war, as a result of the- li'rancoâ€"German horrors. Amongst the things which it was desired to. Stop in warfare were the use Of poisâ€" ons, either in liquid or on “rations, of shells and explosive bullets, of redâ€" lhot shot, and guns loaded with scraps. 'of iron: ,, Britain objected to joining officialâ€"~ ly in the Conference, because, in the words of our Foreign Secretary. such rules “facilitated aggressive wars and [paralyzed the patriotic efforts of an invaded people.” As "Britain abâ€" xstained, nothing direct resulted from ithe Conference. . To this day Britain retains a, kindly ifeeling towards expanding bullets. THE “DUMâ€"DUM” (a bullet which expands when it. strikes) is regarded with horror by lthe other European States, and at. the Hague Conference an attempt was made to declare it contrary to the llaws of war. Together with the Unit- led States, we protested that. the “Dumâ€"Duni” bullet did not aggravate the sufferings of the wounded. Very shortly afterwards the bullet was accidentally used in our South .African War, but, in view of Europeâ€" '.-.in protests, it was dropped at once. fNevertlu-'les., International Law does inot bind us in this matter, while it does bind our fellow nations. It would be against British I'ii'iiiciplcs, in any case, to use them if an enemy abâ€" stained from doing so. All we claim is that the “Bumâ€"Dum" is fair in war against uncivilize-d races. Portu- gal is another State with a leaning towards the “Dumâ€"L‘um,” and also declined to abolish it. But there is a defence for the “Dum- Dum” bullet. It. is invariably only used against savages. In African warfare it has been ’found that the small calibre shot is almost useless. It will go clean through a black vithâ€" out stopping his headlong rush. ’f‘hu “Dum-Dum” stops him. CHINA’S LITfl‘LE PADS "have practically prevented her from being regarded as: one of the civilizera Powers of the world. The title tc civilization rests on whether or not a Powor has subscribed to Internaâ€" tional Law, as represented in the various Conventions. Chioa did not sign the Geneva Con- vention regarding the nursing of the wounded, or the Treaty of Paris of 1887. while Japan did. Therefore, in .J apan's'war with China she was very much concerned as to whether she was to treat China as civilized or as a barbarian. She finally decided to call China civilized, and so thrashed her in a civilized manner. 1 Britain has a s'.ll;-stantial fad to put before the Powvrs as a result of the Boer War. It is; that. when an army is in efiective occupation of a counâ€" ltry the native forces, if they continue their resistance, should he treated as rebels. De Wet’s irritating tactics after the occupation of I’etroria Were the cause of this fad, and “guerilla warfare” will probably be treated very differently next time we find our- selves faced with it. ’ There is no doubt that, before the present war is over, new and strange fads will crop up with regard to naval war. Amongst the resources some Pow-'ershave tried to abolish is the submarine, but that is too [rein- ising a. weapon for the Powers to willingly surrendenâ€"Pearson's Weekly. W0 (3‘! )lC Nâ€"L EC G El.) HUN N i‘} ii. A lame man named Francois ltesiu, who calls himself the champion woodâ€" cnâ€"legged man. ran a. race on the Boulevard de l’Abattoir, I’aris, cove?" in: nine miles in an hour, and a littu ever fourteen miles in two hours. .,, .«._ “a”... -‘ 1"; .q.{:‘;tg'lni( nip»; .1 4'1" â€"