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l4‘;.'\u 3;)?me Wfi+§+fi+lfi+fi+fi+fi+ fi+fi+§+fi+fi+§+fi+fi+£fi+fi+fi$ 3 .2: + . Q I 3E i l a a“ 3 g + 2E ~ ’3 3 THE STEWARD’S SON +‘ 3:: 1m + fi+fi+§i€+£€+fi+£€+~£fi+ 32E+32£+32i+33€ +fl+fi+fl+fi+fi+fi+fi+3fi+fl+fi+fi£fi CHAPTER XIV. h th It _ . ‘ , too full of her lover to ave ' ougi “11:01:23’ aisggguihimgg‘cll :31? yGfJ-figilof it before, the remembrance of her ford Ileittgn without a word intend-Ifather 5 angel" and the .Words he hafd ’ lspoken. He had forbidden her to ing to go to her own room; but the . ,. , . . . . . continue knowmnr L ril Burne, he earl stepped aSIde, and opening theI D y Then there flashed upon her mind, . .- . , , - , had heard something. What was it :11 afivliclgfloqalx (1:0,: lmotlm‘fd, to 8.331 that he had heard? Whatever it fouwypr Y1 ‘ 51a edy £01111 e5?“ ' was, he must have heard it from 0 mung 101' 0080 t e (001' Guildford Berton; and as Norah There was a look of haughty dis- Dleasure on his face, and his keen eyes regarded her sternly. “May I trouble you to give me an account of this accident?" he said, lter iciiy. u r - ., , . . Why should he have spoken falsely papitfilghfia§§§g§efis M“ Bum“ “‘1' of Cyril Illurneâ€"for that he had u ' . -' . . . Spoken falsely she was as certain as I prefel to hear It £10m yom (mu that she sat there, with Cyril’s kiss lips," he said. - n. . Nora quietly related the incident; bugger“; ganddo? Cyril, when but her veice trembled as she told he had told her that he loved her’ orgierbdfiscojiery or Swirls injury'n had asked her not to be angry, but no 6 ave very have y' Pap‘l: 'to wait. He would speak to her I have no doubt, he said; but! it did not warrant his taking adâ€"‘agam' vantage of your situation. He should have sent here for a carriage for you; but I imagine we must not expect grapes from thistles." “I am sorry he has offended you, papa. It Was as much my faultâ€"" thought of him she shuddeer faintly with absolute dislike, He had stood there by the door, saying no‘thing, with his dark face sombre and sinisâ€" and face at the thought. Should she father? The door opened and Harman came in, and as she proceeded to undress a her mistress she cast anxious glances bhe stopped, and her face grew pale. _ , . . - . -' . “And he went without a word offat’1 llastl fl‘m’lliild' as If she thanks,” she exclaimed, “as if he had 60,3611“? 103 “£550 )0 on 11.0 not committed a crime instead of doing ht ' “y a y' 1 y ‘ all he couldâ€"” l‘rt!"” . “Oh, please! There is nothing I N0. said Neiah. for she was lost disl-k . , . ’in thoughtâ€"half delicious, half painâ€" douLte.,S?vi$ucgle :3g_rggigrcls'of N: ful “You heard of the acculent? I D I sneer, “you thanked him sufficiently.’| “Yes: my lady," replied Harman, u 3 - . “one of the grooms was up in the int I WISh to tell you that I do Ivillage and brought down word," not desire ou' 't‘ c "h ' ' young. manyto lc0$1232y w“ thls and she touched Norah gently and Norah started Slightly and 100ked'carefully, as if she expected every up at him, If he had treated her moment .to feel her wmce. with even the semblance of fatheer ‘bfo' 1 am “Qt even S‘fmtwhcd; but kindness she would have told him ah I might have been hurt if it had not that passed between Cyril Burne and been forâ€"~ She stopped; she could herself that night; but his cold words non §peak Cyril’s nume' ,, from her Mpg “Yes, I know, my lady, “I do not approve of himgv man, warmly. “John .says that the “Butâ€"but why, papa?” She asked gentleman risked his life almost, apd in a 10w voice. “He_hc is a gentle‘ it was a wonder he wasn’t killed’. man, yOu said yourselfâ€"_" “Tellâ€"tell me what they say. “It seems that I was mistaken. No, Harman gave the account she I could not be mistaken; but one may heard “911,1 the groom, and be a gentleman and yet not a dcsh._ upon Cyril s courage as only a womâ€" ablc acquaintance_ 1' have‘ heard an can, and Norah listened wth bent enouQ‘hof this Mr. Burne to be ceiead seeming SCm‘COU t0 breathil said Har- had dwelt ,vinee(l that he is not a person to Harman went’at last, but Norah whom I can extend my friendship." “)0 10W Chall‘ thlnkmg “You have .hem-d!" Said Norah, dwelling with joy that was almost :wondsringly, “Fl-hm whom, papa? painful in its intensity upon every From Mr. Berton?" and her lips grow word he had spoken; going back to compressed. the first ' “The name of my informant is of voice on the terrace, the night ' he little consequence, he said, cold1y_ had addressed her, all unconscious “Enough that I am satisfied with that she was near, in words of pasâ€" the information. Do not let us con- Simmte love. _ tinue the subject; it is distasteful to At my" She went to bed: hilt “3 was um.” hours before she slept; and in her Norah stood for a moment, her eyes dreams he St!” bout 9V0? 1101‘. 111$ bent on the ground, the“ She mu,._ handsome face all anXious and trouâ€" muredâ€" bled on her accountâ€"on hers! “Goodmight’ papa-n . When she awoke the next morning He Opened the door for he,“ mam it was With the consolousuess that ing no movement toward kissing her, some 0110 was In the room, and rais- and she escaped. mg herself on her elbow she saw Once in hm. own 1.00m, she flunngr-cca South standing beside the bed, her but aside, and sinking into a;and looking down at her with a peâ€" chail. hid her face in her hm,de lculiar expression in her black eyes. Hm. heart was beating wille but='l‘hen she remembered that she had stem as her father‘s Speech and man_ not locked her door last night. “Becca,” she said. still sat in night she had heard his I: ner had been, its throbs were more l I , of joy than of SO,.I.OW_ ‘I ve come to help you,’ she said. . ~ ~ n n “‘ . I, 1 1 That great criSis which comes 1n Auntlcs SOt 9110 0f he! had hcad‘ most women’s “Veg had come to aches, and can t move this morning. hers. ‘A man had told her that heIShe’S very sorry. she says, and bees loved her! your ladyship will overlook it.” Sometimes a girl has to ask her “Oh, 9001' Harman!" said Norah, heart the question: “Do I love himlsympathetically; “I am SO sorry! in return?" but Norah, though no Please go and tell her that she must words of love had ever been uttered “Qt think 0f S'Ottlné’; "1-), and not to to her before, had no need to ask tl‘Ollble about me in the least.” the question. Love needs no instrucâ€" While Becca was gone Norah $01? up tor. The lesson of his presence is and found a bottle of can de readily learned in every woman’s Cologne. . breast; and Norah, as she. sat; withl “Take this and bathe her forehead, her face hidden, even from her glass, 130003.” She said. “and tell her on could feel his words singing in her no account to trouble about me." heart. Becca went again. and returned She sat and thought, of himâ€"how smelling strongly of the scent. She handsome he was, how brave, how,h8~d floured half 0f .113 011 1101‘ own kind, how good! Surely, in all tliefihflndkm‘fllief- wide, wide world, there was not an-l “You 81'0 Very em‘ly this morning" other man like him. And this bestiNOl‘ah said, as the girl bI‘UShed 0“t of heroes, who was quick and clever‘her hail'- “Did you Sleep in tho and prompt, who had displayed suchlhc-use last night?" courage, hiding his pain from her forl "N0. my lady." replied Becca. so long, loved her! idropping her eyes from the glass in With the joy of the knowledge there I which she had been comparing Nor- .Was mixed a thrill of pride that.a11’s face with her own. “No, I went seemed to raise her above all others [home And I found him in the avenâ€" of her sex. no," she added, in a low Voice. What could he have seen in her to Norah looked up love? she asked herself again and There was no other “him” in the again. She who was nothing but a world for her that morning but Cyril. simple, ignorant girl while he was so “Him! Whom?” She asked. clever and strong, such a hero among “The painter gentleman, Mr. men, Bui'ne,” said Becca, with a nod, as if Norah ought to have understood. “He was very bad." I-Iow sweetly he had asked her for her dead rose; how humbly he had bent over her hand. She took her “Bud?” She cChocd, faintly. right hand from her face and looked “YCS,” said Bucca, taking a at it, and slowly raising it to her tress in her hand and holding it up-I lips, kissed it where his lips had to the light, but keeping her eyes! touched it. fixed on Norah’s pale face reflected in Did she love him? Why, her lovethe glass. "Yes, he’d fainted.” seemed proclaiming itself in every Norah’s hands clasped themselves ticmbling limb. Her heart was full, tightly in her lap, and an inarticu-l full of him; his voice rang in her late sound escaped her lips. ' ears. She could feel his kiss upon “He was dreadfully hurt. her hand still. his arm, I think.” Broke l “Cyril, Cyril!"~ she murmured un- Norah half rose, with a wild im-a consciously, and in the stillness of pulse to go to him there and them, night the faint breeze outside seemcdlthen she sank back. i ’ she breathed. l .to echo his name lovingly, caressingâ€"l “Go on,’ 13'. listen to him? Could she disobey her and long .ward her, then stopped, his eyes, full my lady." said Becca, slowly, “andlthOUght of it; butâ€"ah! I wanted to in dreadful pain. I don't think he’ll die, though,” she added, calmly. “Die!” fell from her lips. "No, my lady. He was able to walk home after a bit," continued Becca, still watching Norah's face. “Give meâ€"give me my handker- chief, please," said Norah, feeling the girl's eyes on her, and wishing to gain a moment or two for selfâ€" control." “I heard that he’d hurt himself stopping the horses,” said Becca, “but he didn't say.” “Whatâ€"what did he say?” asked Norah, thirsting to hear some words of his. Becca waited a moment, and fixed her black eyes on the glass intently. “He said, would you meet him at the place where he painted the dog, at five o’clock toâ€"day,” she replied. “Are youâ€"are you sure that is what Mr. Burne said?” she asked at last, in a'low voice. “Yes, quite sure, sponded Becca. Norah trembled came fast. How could she meet him after her father’s prohibition? And yetâ€"yet he Was ill, had been injured in saving her. She got up and went to the my lady,"- re- and her breath w i nâ€" dow. The girl's black eyes seemed to follow and trouble her. “You may go now, Becca," she said, without looking round. “Yes, my lady," said Becca. HAnd Mr. Burne, what am I to say to him if I see him?” "Say nothingâ€"say that I will come â€"and see the picture." “Yes, my lady,” and noiselessly The warm color suffused her neck She left the room- “Yes, she would go and see him, tell him that they must be strangers from henceforthâ€"her eyes filled with tears at the thought!â€" they must part, never to meet again. She finished dressing herself went downstairs. The earl was in the breakfast room, and handed her a note as he bowed her a good morning. "From Lady Ferndale,” he said. “To inquire after 5our health after the accident, no doubt," he said. “A groom is waiting." Norah opened the envelope. ’It was just the kind of letter which Lady Ferndale would write, full of affecâ€" tionate anxiety and self reproach. “If I had only sent some one with you, dear!" she said. “I would come over this morningâ€"and will if you are the least illlâ€"but my hus- band has asked some people here early. Still, only say the word!" But it was the next few lines that made the blood to her “And face. to think that that young man should have acted so nobly! Was "from his heart to hers. The member the evening you came to the I out, Norah, in my estimate? coachman says that the way Mr. Burne flung himself upon the horses was ‘grand’, and I think it’s the very best word to describe it. longing to see him, and thank him!" “Well?” said the earl. ...Norah hesitated a moment, laid the letter beside his plate. He raised it delicately, and held it out to her with a cold smile. “Pardon me, but I have always en- tertained the greatest rcpugnance to perusing other people’s letters," he said. “You had better answer then Norah’s heart beat and sent ,you! it. ed her eyes for a moment, but see you, soon, at once, and I did not know how " "‘1 am glad you sent to me," she said, so simply, so sweetly, that he could have gone on iis knees to her. “You are painting; will youâ€" will you go on?” she fallered. I‘Ie understood her, She could talk with less restraint if he worked. He sat down before the easel, and took up his brush and the palette, which he managed to hold in the finger and thumb of his left hand, and painted blindly for a minute or two: then he turned to her as she stood beside him, her hands loosely clasped. “May I speak now, Lady Norah? I have been counting the hours since I left you last night. I have so longed to see youâ€"to tell youâ€"ah, you know! What can I say but that I love you!" Norah’s hands clasped tightly, and her breath came and went fitfully. “It broke from me last night, when I should not have spoken," he went on, in a low voice, that trembled with eagerness and rang earnestly with the true ring of pure, whole- souled love. “I ought not to have spoken then, butâ€"I could not help it; and now you know it, what will you say to me?” He rose, but with a slight gesture she motioned him to his seat, and he sat down again, obeying her, and bent toward her, the sunlight falling on his shapely head and handsome face. N "Were you angry with me last night? ‘Are you angry now? Have yoi come to ‘tell me that I was pre- sumptuousâ€"ah, don't speak yet," for her lips moved, though no words had come. “Do you thinkt..'liat I have not thonght over it all during the long hours I havelain awake? Lady Norah, you cannot feel more acutely than I do how unworthy I am that and you should cast a thought to me." Her lips formed a “No,” but he livent on, his voice scarcely above a whisper, his eyes sparkling with more eloquent pleading even than his lips. ~“You are the daughter of an earl, and Iâ€"-" he motioned to the easel with his brush, “I am a poor painter one the worldâ€"the world to which you belongâ€"regards as very much be- neath you. 'And it is right. But a poor painter may haVe a heart, and I have given mine to you! I lay it at your feet, Lady Norah! It is yours to do what you will withâ€"to accept or refuse." He stopped, to control his voice, which his passion had rendered hurâ€" ried and broken. “I can only say I love you, I love I have loved youâ€"" He stop- ped and then went on, his voice low and dreamy, as if he were speaking “Do you re- Ceurt? .As your-carriage drove in through the gates I stood there and saw you, andâ€"ah! believe meâ€"the I am 'momcnt I sawyou mytheart leaped. It seemed to cry out, ."I' love you!’ I did not know who you were. but you were the one woman in all the world for me from that moment; you will be the one woman until I die." There were tears in her eyes, though she tried to force them back, and she put up one hand and cover- she I‘ray do not mind keeping me wait-[stood silent, and otherwise motionâ€" ing." Norah took the letter and put it in her pocketâ€"those few lines had made it very preciousâ€"and, going to a writing-table, wrote a brief note assuring Lady Ferndale that she, Norah, was quite well, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she added: “Mr. Burne was badly hurt, I fear." That was all; and the words read, so coldly. 'At times the hours that day seemed to pass all too quickly, at others they dragged their length wearin along. Norah all day tried to make up her mind what she would say to Cyril, tried even to learn a few senâ€" tences, that she might repeat them by heart. A practiced fiirt, a Lonâ€" don belle of even one season, would have known how to dismiss him gracefully; but Norah was no exper- ienced flirt, she was simply a girlâ€" wmnan whose heart had been touched for the first time. At last the great clock chimed halfâ€" past four, and, with Casper at her heels, she started for the woods. Her heart beat faster as she approaChed the glade where she was to meet Cyril, and she paused and waited for a moment or two to try and quiet its beating. Then she went on among the great trees flecked with the golden sun- light, and presently she put aside the leaves of a huge rhododendron, and stood before him. Cyril had fixed his easel, and was trying to paint. She saw that his left arm was in a filing, and the sight recalled everything that had occurred on the preceding evening, with a, start land a great. wave of tenderness pass- ed over her heart. She stood for a .moment by him, then he took out his watch, and, with a sigh of impatience, turned his head and saw her, in all her loveli- ness, framed by the dark green leaves. Ho sprang to his feet and came for- of the passion that burned in his- heart, fixed on her face; and so they! stood speechless, so far as words go.i “You have come!” he said, in a low voice. She put hers into it, and it imprisoned in his eager grasp. “Yes, I. have come," Sil': said. "Are you angry with me for senrl-; lug vou the message?" . i “No,-" slie replied. “Oh, no, iiol‘ llufâ€"-â€"" she stopped. l "it was wrongâ€"l. know!” \V i1 5! ah! 'spoke, not to meâ€"ah, no, I g female officers. less. “It was no passing fancy," he went on. “All that evening I could not forget you; and at night I stole to the great house, that I might be near you. And I heard you!" he said, his voice scarcely audible; “al- most as if in answer to my prayer, you came Out on the terrace and know, I knowlâ€"but you seemed to speak to me. All my life has changed since that moment, for you have tak- en possession of it. I think of‘you all day, your face flits between me and the canvas, I hear your voiccâ€"" He paused. “Lady Norah, what will you say to me? Will you let me go on loving youâ€"ah, you cannot help that, I must love youlâ€"but will you try and love me a little in return?" Norah’s face grew almost white with the struggle that was rending her heart; the struggle between the desire to answer, “I love you al- ready," and the desire to obey her 'father. “Is it so impossible?" “Iâ€"I cannot. The earl, my father-â€" “The earl," he said, "your father, does not like me." “He has forbidden you to meâ€"speak to me?" “Yes. I tumâ€"sorryâ€" “Why?” he said. "Ah, I know! I had forgottenâ€"forgive meâ€"the differâ€" ence between us; but he has not for- gotten. You are the daughter of an ear]. and I " He broke off, she had turned to him at last, a look of entreaty on her face. (To be Continued.) _.__._+____.._. CHINESE WOMENT FIGHTERS. Women in China have the privilege H of fighting in the wars. In the re- bellion of 1850 women did as much fighting as men. At Nankin, in 1853, 500,000 women from various parts of the country were formed into brigades of 13,000 each, under Of these soldiers 10,- 000 were picked women, drilled and garrisoned in the city. I----_-.4._..__.. USE FOR LUVliâ€"Llfi’ld‘EIIS. At a fashionable wedding at Lynchâ€" burg, Virginia, 21 little Loy and girl preceded the bride and bridegozmi up the aisle of the church, czch rarrliing a silk pillow stuffed with the loveâ€"lzth-rs of th- biidel pair. he sui(1,i'l‘lie latter knelt on Lite pillous durâ€"‘angg “lie was as white asâ€"as you are, “I felt it when I had got home and inf; the CUH'UWHJY- know I \. .,..\ L. i?" . hm 1““â€" HOW PERFllhE IS MAD OF A GREAT DESCRIPTION ’ FRENCH INDUSTRY. of In the southern part of France, which borders on the Mediterranean and extends between the Alps and the Rhone, the culture of flowurs has developed into a great industry for the manufacture of perfumes. “In the department of the Alpes-Iafaritmes the perfumery industry has probably made greater strides than in any other portion of France,H says M. Georges Cayes in the Mon’de Moderne of Paris. “ lere are more than sixty factories, the total product of which is valued at more than four million dollars per year, and over over fifteen hundred persons are con- stantly employed, without counting the multitude of harvest hands. The more important harvests are those of the rose, 4,000,000 pounds, the orange flow-'er 5,000,000 pounds, the violet 600,000 pounds, the jasmine 1,200,000 pounds, the tuberose 300, 000 lbs., the geranium 70,000 lbs., and the Cassia 300,000 pounds. If we consider the fact that. all these flowers are weighed without 1"heir stems it is evident that the quantity is enormous. and this fact will be still better appreciated when we say that in order to obtain two pounds of rose leaves no less than a thou- sand flowers required, while a thouâ€" sand bunches of violets, each with a ' diameter of more than a foot, furnâ€" ish only forty pounds of flowers." METHO D 0F DISTI LLATI ON. through a prelim- inary treatment of being placed in a cold room, and plants such as lavender, thyme, spike. mint, roots such as orris, fruits and woods, are through cutting and macerâ€" ating machines. After this has been done the perfume is extracted, the principal methods being distillation. Flowers all go passed maceration, enfleurage and by the use of dissolvcnts. Disstillation is only employed when the perfume is not injured by heat or steam. In this case the flowers and water are put in a great alembic and heated. After the water begins to boil it disâ€" organizes the vegetable cells con- taining the perfume, and this is carâ€" ried by the steam through the worm and condensed. There is thus ob- tained a mixture of water and per- fume and it is merely necessary now two. The process to separate the of distillation, however, has the great. disadvantage of frequently a1- tering the perfumes obtained, and, therefore, when it is desired to ob- tain finer extracts recourse must be had- to other methods. BOILING IN' FAT. For maceration the flowers are thrown into a mass of fat ‘melted and raised to a temperature of 65 degrees' centigrade, and completely submerged, after several hours the perfume being incorporated with the fat. to get rid of the flowers, after which the latter are soaked in boiling waâ€" ter and compressed hydraulically. In this way all of the perfume is exâ€" ?rocesses by Which Tons :Bilossoms Give Up Their Odors. The mass is then strained tractcd. In the enfluerage method frames are used, the bottoms of which are glass. The frames are placed one above the other, small space being left between the glass The fatty substance is spread on the glass and the flowers are placed in direct contact with the fat. At the end of a certain time, which varies with the flowers, the perfume is absorbed by the fat, af- ter which the flowers are renewed un- til the pomade is of the desired strength. ‘ DISSOLVING- ODORS. A third method is that of Volatile 'dissolvents. â€"In general the dissol- l l l l Vent employed is an ether of refined petrplcum. The apparata used are of different forms, but the) must all contain an extractor, into which the flowers are placed cold with the dissolvent, a decanter where the wa- ter contained in the flowers is separ- ated from the mixture, a distilling alembic which forces the (iissolvent back through the flowers, and a cerâ€" tain number of reservoirs in which the dissolvent is kept, in a pure state or charged with perfume. The dissolvent after being charged with the perfume evaporates and leaves behind the essential oil. This meth- od is by far the first. In the single |department of the 'Alpesâ€"Maritimes the annual production is 800,000 pounds of pomade and 400,000 for quarts of extracts. "Jrâ€"~â€" LIFEâ€"SAVING INVENTION. A poor laboring man in Denmark has made a new inventiOn in life- saving. Iie impregiiates clothes with a substance which will keep a ship- ,wrecked person afloat for Several 1days without losing its property. A lcoat, a vest, a traVelling rugâ€"in ll‘act, any piece of wearing apparel iimpregnated with the stufl‘ is enough Eto keep anyone above water. The llllVOllthll.hUS been successfully dem- loni~drated, + WORK FOR THE INSANE. Work for the insane is a special study at the Villejuif Asylum,‘ Paris. Painting, carving, sketching, and cVen tattooing are included, and re- due 10 the employâ€" cases the condition in | . l . . ficovery is often fiineiil. In other of the prdienl's mind is mirrored flio work done. aiding the physician lll his study of the case more than long discussions or consulta- ;tions. . . . , , "I" ‘ 1 “"‘""Wu g. ’ . a" fi, . “c ‘4‘. y, . “V .3547”: re Ru“; “I “WE-m ‘ .5.Wmâ€"mnMwâ€"â€". r. 2'er . ~T~Wfiw ~«wfin-r 1;,