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i -l WO+MWWW-WWM DARE HE? OR, A SAD LIFE STORY 3% CHAPTER XXIXâ€"(Continued). In the course of the past week each member of the family has confided to aim separately how far more she or he misses Amelia than can be possible to either of the others. Upon this head .Sybilla's lamentation-s are the loudest .and most frequent. She had at first re- fused to admit that there was anything at all the matter with her sister, but has new fallen into the no less trying oppo- site extreme of refusing to allow that there is any possibility of liei'h‘ccovcry, talking of her as if she were almost be- .yond the reach of human aid. Sybilla's grief for her sister is perfectly genuine; none the less so that it is complicated by irritation at her own deposition from her .post as first invalid, at having been com- pelled to confess the existence in the bosom of her own family of a trailer, with an indisputably higher temperature and more wavering pulsethan she. “It is ridiculous to suppose that a per- .son in such rude health as Cecilia can miss her as I do," she says querulously; “I was always her first object, she al- ways knew by instinct when I was more suffering than usual; who cares now"â€" breaking into a deluge of selfâ€"compas- ‘sionating tearsâ€"~“whethcr I am suffering or not ?" Then when next he happens to be alone with Cecilia, it is her turn to as- sert her right to a superiority of woe; .a superiority claimed with still more emphasis the next half hour by the father. With a patience which would have surprised those persons who had seen him only in his former relations with the family of his betrothed he tries to soothe the sorrow of eachâ€"even that not Sybilleâ€"in turn; but to his own heart he says that not one of their griefs is worthy to be weighed in the balance with his. In the case of none of theirs is the woof crossed by the hideous warp of self-reproach that is woven inextricably into his. They haveworked her to death, they have torn her to pieces by their . oonflictingclahns;their love has .-,been_ exacting, selfish, inconsiderate; but at least it has been love; they have prized her almost her .full worth while they; .had her. In the intervalsâ€"neither long nor imanyeâ€"betweenhis ministrations at the Anglo-Americain, Burgoyne hurries back to therltlinervaio see that Byng has not blown his brains out. In the present state of mind of that young gentleman this catastrophe does not appear to, be among the least likely ones. He has re- fused to leave Florence, always answer- ing the suggestion with the same ques- tion, “Where else should I go it" and if pressed, adding invariably in the same words .as those employed by him on the first day of his loss, when his friend had urged the advisability of his removing his countenance from tho beaded stoolâ€" “Where shall I find such recent and au- thentic traces of her as here 7" He passes his time either on the Lung Arno, staring at the water, or stretched face downwards upon his bed. Ile walks about the town most of the night, and Jim suspects him of beginning to take chloral. Occasionally he rouses up into a quick and almost passionate sympathy with his friend's trouble, asking for no- thing better than to be sent on any errand, however trivial, or however tire- some, in Amelia’s behalf. But no sooner have the immediate effects of the appeal t3 his kind-heartcdness died away than he sinks back into his lethargy, and Jim is at‘once too much occupied and too miserable to use any vc'y strenuous en- deavors to shake him out of it. But yet the consciousness of the tacit engageâ€" merit under which he lies to the young man’s mother to look after him, coupled with the absolute impossibility, undei his present circumstances, of fulfilling that engagement, and his uneasiness as to what new form the insanity of Byng‘s grief may take on, from day to day, add very pcrccptibly to the weight of his own already sufliciently pondcrous burden. it is the ninth day since Amelia fell sick, that ninth day which, in maladies such as hers, is, or is at least reckoned to be, the crisis and turning-point of the disease. Jim has been up all night, and has just rushed back to the Minerva. for the double purpose of taking a bath, and of casting an uneasy cye upon his charge. He finds the latter not in his room, but leaning over the little spiky balcony, out of his window. hanging over it so far, and so absorbedly, that he does not. hear his friend's approach, and starts violently when Jim lays a hand on his shoulder. “What are you looking at “l? oilâ€"nothing particular! What should I be looking at? What is there to look to? I was onlyâ€"onlyâ€"wondcr- ing, as a mere matter of curiosity, how many feet it is from here to the pave- ment? Sixteen? eighteen? twenty ?" Jim’s only answer is to look at him sadly and slernly; then he says coldly: “I do not recommend i" it would be a clumsy way of doing it." “What matter how clumsy tlnfiway so that one attains the end?" asks Byng cxtravaganlly. tlimwing off even the thin pretence he had at. first assumed; “who cares how bad the road is, so that it leads him to the goal ?" ' Jim shudders. Death has been so near words, sometimes, to our surprise, turn t to him for the last nine days, that the terrific realism of Constance's apostrophe items, to be almost more than he can an “It is silliness to live when to live is a torment, and then, have we a prescrip- tion to die, when death is our physicianl” continues Byng loudly and wildly, clasp- ing his hands above his head, and appar- ently perfectly indifferent as to whether the other inmates of the hotel, or passcrs-by on the piazza, overhear him. “If you stay here much longer you will spare yourself the trouble of putting an end to your existence," replies Jim, glancing at the other’s head, exposed hatless to the scorch of the Tuscan sun, “for you will certainly get a sunslroke." So saying, he takes him quietly, yet decidedly, by the arm, and leads him within the room. Either his matter-of- fact manner, or the sight of his face, upon which, well-seasoned as it is, vigil and sorrow have begun to write their unavoidable marks, brings the young madman back to some measure of Sense and self-control. “I had no fixedvintention," he says, apologetically, still looking white and wild; “‘you must not think I meant any- thing, but, even if I hadâ€"«lo you knotvâ€" have you ever happened to read any- thing about the statistics of suicide? Do you know what an increasing number of people every year find life intoler- able ?” “I know that you are fast making my life intolerable," answers Jim, fixing his tired, sleepless eyes with melancholy severity upon his companion. “Amelia isâ€"â€"you are as well aware of it as I amâ€" probably dying, and yet even now, thanks to you, into my thoughts of her is continually pushing the fear that I may have to tell your mother that. you have had the colossal selfishness to rush out of the world, because, for the first time in your pampered life, the toy you cried for has not been put into your hand." »- Burgoyne's hopes. have not been high, as to any salutary result of his own philipplc while uttering it. But our from wooden swords 'to-stecl daggers in our hands. For a moment Byng stands a‘sfif stunned"; then he breaks up into a tornado of sobs and tears,-such tears as have often before angered his friend, but which now he welcomes the sight of, as perhaps precursors of a saner mood. “Oh, my dear old chap l" he cries, catching at Jim's unresponsive hand, and wringing it hard, “she is not dying really? You do not mean it? You are only saying it to frighten mo? Ohl dear, kind Amelia. Not dying? not dy- ing?" "1 do not know, to-day is the turning point, they say; even now it may have come." “And why are not you with her? Why do not you go back to her ?” cries Byng, in a broken voice of passionate excite- ment, the tears still racing down his face. “And leave you to go tomfooling out there again," asks Jim, with a nod of his head towards the balcony, seen from where they stand, grilling in the 'mid- day blaze. The verb employed, if closely looked into, bears a ludicrous proportion to the intended action indicated, but neither of the men see anything ridiculous in it. “I will not i" cries Byng, in eager asseveration, “I give you my word of honor I will not; if you do not believe me, take me with you! Keep me with you all dayl Do you think that I, too, do not want to know how Amelia is? Doyou think that I am indifferent as to 1' whether she lives or dies? Poor, good Amelia! When I think of‘that drive to Vallomhrosa, only ten days ago! They two sitting side by side, so happy, laugh- ing and making friends with each other 1” lie covers his face with his hands. and through them the scalding drops trickle; but only for a moment. In the next, he has dashed them away, and is moving restlessly about the room, looking for his lull. “Let us go this instant,” he says urgently; “my poor old man, do you think I would willingly add a feather- weight to your burden? I should never forgive myself if I kept you a second longer from her at such a time; let us go at once." Burgoyne complies ; but, under pretext of making some change in his dress, es- capes from his friend for just the few minutes necessary to write and despatch a telegram to the young man's another. It runs thus : ' “No cause for alarm, but. come at once. lie is perfectly well, but needs you.” if, as it is hoped, Mrs. Byng is still in London, reaping the succession to the old relative, whose death-de she had quilted Florence to attend, his moss-age will bring her hither within fortyâ€"eight hours. and the burden of responsibility, now grown so insupportable, will be shifted from his shoulders. Until those forty-eight hours have elapsed, he must not again lot Byng out of his sight. The day rolls by, the critical ninth day . rolls by on its torrid wheels to cvenlidc. and when that eventidc cmncs it finds Cecilia Wilson running down from ________________________________â€"______â€". ______________â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€" .___.____â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"-â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"‘ tence the wrongs done to Elizabeth, and doing it so well, that a moment later a feeling of compunction comes over him at the success of his own attempt at re- tributive justice. Mrs. Byng turns pale. ' “Then she has got hold of him 2" she says under her breath. “Got hold of him ?” repeats Jim, his ire aroused again no sooner than all-eyed by «this mode of expression; “you certainly have the most extraordinary-way of mist conceiving the situationt Got hold of him? when she had to leave Florence at ‘l. moment’s notice to escape his impor- tunities !" Amelia’s room. to give the last news of her to the three men and one woman waiting below. ' “I think he seems quite satisfied,” she says, in answer to the silent hungry looks of question addressed to her, and alluding to the doctor, who is still with the patient; “the strength is maintained; the temperature lower." What a dread- ful parrotso'und the two phrases, so familiar to us all in the newspaper bul- letins of distinguished men on. their death-beds, have, during the last week, assumed in Burgoyne‘s ears; “you can speak to him yourself when he comes down, of course, Jim; but I am sure he is satisfied." “She is better !â€"â€"she is saved ?" cries Byng, rushing forward and snatching both Cecilia's handsâ€"“d0 you say that pose that horrid woman has got hold of she is really saved?” him? I suppose that. is why you sent “Oh, are you here still, Mr. Byng? 101‘ me i" _ ' _ haw very kind of you i” replies Cecilia, By tins time she is safely landed at his a tinge of color rushing over her mealy side, which is possibly the reason why faceâ€"that face, ten days ago, clothed in he at once lcts tell her hand. so many rosesâ€"“well, I am afraid he “I am not aware that there does not go quite so far as that, but he “horrid woman in the case. . V says it is as much as we can expect, and “Oh, what does it matter what I cal. even I can see that she is not nearly so her?" cries the mother, fast becoming restless," frantic at the delay in answering hei «Thank God!__mank God 1.. passmnate questions. I Will call her In the order of his thanksgiving he What 3'10“ Wolf”; 13/05“ kri‘gldpggfi‘ix presses her hands closer, instead of drop- E‘mom £19“; 'als“}§ gamggv ‘shc would' ping them, a fact of which he is entirely -Suppo‘ ' . , y? 1‘ t ’ 't t 1 t. 9 unaware but so is not she, and who P‘d “0t 1 Ml 5°“ 50' .m l?" l 09,,“ 9‘ knows, even at that serious moment. lsIggfsetggtgfigyfiitflg1:29:36} vie“. $333513?me 110W may snde mm her of Mrs. Byng, he sees that she has a . . . more tagged and travelâ€"worn air than tOAbgef'dm gaing‘ggalfigfiafifig (Egg: ?§:tg§ he had at first supposed, and her dusty I . eyes are fastened upon him with such a :3 ggfggoljegfegfefif’azovéfie {giiggamfgfi hunger of interrogation, that, angered . I , .~ and jarred as he is by her tone, he has granted mailbag/1.1111311ligmfigxgl$%r%r§ng not the heart any longer to keep her in - - suspense. f‘nds no such backslidings to have taken “ ‘ . u I - place, when each hour through the If you 310 “hiding l0 Mlbs Le Mar cheerfully broadening day brings falling 33:32,); lggbiegsl‘gignégl}, You at once feverand steadying pulse, then indeed - - , V , “cht Florence! Do you mean to say he (“mummy opens the door Of his beam that she has run away with some ont no difficulty in at once discovering among them the tall smart figureâ€"smart even after forty-eight hours of the un- luxurlous luxury of a Wagon-Litâ€"of the lady he is awaiting. As he gives her his hand to help her down the high step. the admiring thought crosses his mind of what a large quantity of fatigue, dust, and uneasiness of mind a radically goodâ€". looking Englishwoman, in radically good clothes, can undergo without. seem- ing much the worse for them. Before her neat narrow foot has touched the pave- ment, a brace of eager questions shoots out of her mouth. “Am I in time? Am I too late?" “In time for what? Too late for what?" “Has heâ€"has he done anythingâ€"any- thing irrevocable? Is heâ€"-is he? I sup- (To be continued). â€"-â€"+ VICTIM 0F RUSSIAN TYRANNY. __ Tragedy of a Young Woman field With- out Trial. The suicide in the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, St. Petersburg, of a young woman named Dorofieff, who had been :mprisoncd there for nearly six months without-trial, has caused as painful an llllpi‘OSSlOll as that of the girl Vielrova, who committed suicide in the same place about eight or ten years ago by pouring over herself the oil of the lamp with which her cell was provided and setting .icrself on fire. Dorefleff strangled her- self by tying her hair round her neck, astening the end of the plait to the foot )[ the bed and then leaning back tilt death released her. She was a young married woman. barely 22 years of age, who came to St, Petersburg with her husband in the spring of last year. The two lived a. quiet, simple life, and attracted little no- llCC; from their neighbors, until shortly after a revolutionary outrage, when they disappeared. The police made a descent upon their apartment and left a few men .11 permanent ambush. When, two days later, the husband returned alone, he had is any to let a tiny rose-pinioned lIOIDB 111% else 7': 7 hardly entered the ball when they rushed. â€"-then at last, on. the thud mg} . her She puts the question in all good faith out With loaded revolvers and arrested stretches his tired limbs in deep 3 1"“ her lively imagination having easily mm~ TWO dab/.5 later he was “90‘1de accordance with the verdict of a field made the not very wide jump from ilu fact already established in her own mind of Elizabeth being an advonturess, to the not much more difficult one to swallow. of her having devoured another ills dc famille, as well as Mrs. Byng‘s own. For a moment, Burgoyne turns away. voice and countenance alike beyond his control. He has by no means perfectly recovered either, when he answersâ€" “Yes, with some one elseâ€"she has reached the pith of turpitudc of leaving Florence with her mrther." “She is gone ?" cries Mrs. Byng, with an accent of the highest relief and joy; “gone away altogether, do you mean ‘2â€" ch, thank Godl"â€"then, with a sudden lapse into affright, she adds rapidlyâ€" "and he is gone «after hcr?â€"'h'e is net here ?" - “No, he is here.” “Then why has not he come to meet me ?"â€"â€"suspiciousl y. “Hedid notknow you were expected." “You did not tell him?" “No.” upon his bed. He has received a brief telegram from Mrs. Byng to announce her arrival as fast as heat and train can bring her; But when the next morning â€"he having sent his desp-atch to her on the previous Wednesdayâ€"finds him pac- ing the platform of the railway station, awaiting the incoming of the morning express from Turin. lie is peeing it alone, for he has thought it best not to reveal to her son the fact of her ex- pected return, not being at all sure in what spirit he will receive it, nor whe- ther indeed the news of it might not even drive him, in his present unsound state of mind, to fly from the place at her approach. ‘Them'orning'air, in its early clear coolness, blows sweet here, under the station-roof, unconquered even by engine smoke, and on Jim’s face as he walks up and downâ€"careworn as it still 'isâ€"there comes, now and again, a half-born smile. Ht: is never one to hope very easily,_but ._ surely nowâ€"now that yet another night court-martial. The following day the woman Dorm fieff was arrested. She was immediately incarcerated in the Fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, and since then, according to the newspaper accounts, she was kept in complete ignorance as to the fate of her husband, the jailors not being allowed to reply to any of her questions. The news of her husband's death, it is said, was conveyed to her on the eve of her suicide. She had been dead for several hours before it was discovered that she had . put an end to her life. She was buried secretly at night time in the Preobaj-en- sky Cemetery, where are the graves of many :of thesewhofeltduring the shoot. ing on Red. Sunday. Who she was and who her husband remains a mystery. Those who knew her ’during her stay in . St. Petersburg describe her as an-ex- 'chptionally beautiful and attractive wo- man of superior intelligence and educa- tion. haa‘bcen'pl‘OSDel'OUSly “dewover' more “Why did not you tell him ?” -â€"â€"--â€"â€"-.l'-â€"---- Cant 0V9“ 10 mmv Seem “.0 reason“); “I did not know how he would take it." , . ground for doubt that Amelia has turn “DO you mean to savn_mmng from l\iEAi\lNGLESS WORD. the come“ Amehav mm the comer her former rapidity of utterance to a dis- “I'll sue the scoundrel l" exclaimed turnedâ€"B n r, in five minutes wholly off “ his hand-sly 'El‘he only wonder is, that the He caps me a small smile never comes quite to the birth. The train is punctual, and almost at its due moment draws up in dusty length at the platform. Its pascngers are com- paratively few; for at this latcning sea- son most of the English are winging home to their rooky woods; and he has Algy in a terrible rage. blithering idiot !" “i wouldn’t pay any attention to it," counselled Percy. “‘Blithering' doesn't really mean. anything, you know." mayed incredulous slownessâ€"“that he will not be glad to sec me ?â€"â€"that Willy will not be glad to see me ?" “I mean to say that I am afraid you will not find him very much in sympa- thy with you; I do not think he will find it easy to hear you speak of Miss Le Merchant in the terms, and make the implication about her that you did just now,” replies Jim, avenging by this sen- .5â€",â€"â€"-â€" Any man can be happy if he only has sense enough not to let troubles worry him unnecessarily. Roofing Right Galvanized STEEL Put them on with no tools but a hammer and tinner’s shears,-â€"â€"can’t go wrong. 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