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fighyil r.‘ .‘:,. {xv-.3. -_:.: .2, .r{ .I - _ '~._.I.°>._u:‘~§.»~ . w. i. goof-r < “W‘neu‘mmww «ru . I AM?“ "mnvv}”fiwnn'fix'fi . at table, "“Mwah-oMb-‘flrl 1- “(ya ’mv-i" ~-.-e .. .- . ’ r -. The. Wedding Eve; 01', Married . CHAPTER IV.â€"7-(Continued)2 With that I put a sovereign in her hands. The thought- of givmg money to this flower-faced child was painful to me, but I need not have minded it on her ac- count. ‘ She opened her eyes wide as she took the coin. and then. springingto her feet. she danced about the room with glee. “A pound!" she cried. “Did.you_ know it was a pound. or did you think it was only a shilling? Won't _ make old Mo- tlicr Nokes sit upi And when I get to Folkstone I'll buy a new pair of boots. Do tell me what your name is?‘ -“.-\drian Hervey.” ’ “Well, Mr. Adrian Hervey, heres a curtsy for you; and here’s another right down to the ground! You mustn't’think me rude for running away. but you re no idea how hungry I am. Lshall see you again. sha.’n't I? Good-by!’ And in the twinkling of an eye she was gone. But as I turned and looked out of the window again, I felt something pull my sleeve. She had returned and stood close behind me. ‘ “ "Stoon down your head,” she cried. I want to whisper!" . I bent my head, and as I did so she kiss- ed my cheek, and then ran away. laugh- ing merrily. _ It was the kiss of a grateful child; but no woman’s kiss: had ever given me 5-0 much pleasure as this chance caress from a pcniiilcss waif. a.1ittle homeless dancer of the streets and taverns. I wanted to learn more about her. my heart was full of the deepest sym- pathy for her' hard; unprotected life; and almost as soon as I had returned to the for other part of the inn, and let myself _in- to the little passage communicating With the parlor set aside for my use. Mrs. Noke‘s, (she brought in my ham and eggs and lCl‘..a-1]Cl‘ sole idea of an evening meal. broke unasked into the subject. dance. But everything teaches me that “I hope that Saxon’s girl wasn't bot-her- â€"â€"birds as they fly. the smoke up the int! you, sir?” she said. “I had no idea chimney, and clouds in a storm, And She was ill the place all? fill. and I've 101d then it's beautiful on a tramp over that Old Vfl-guboud. her . father. I frozen roads to see across the snox' at wouldn't have~him here again. When 1 night the lights of a"x‘illage, the nice heard the piano a few minutes ago, made no doubt’ but you wore playing yourself. But in she bounced just now. and told me she had earned some money by dancing to you, and she wanted some- thing to eat. I do hope, sir. she hasnt been teasing you? She's an odd. forward little thing, but there's no real harm in to ‘lier, and she’s quite a wonder. as I often say to my husband, considering the way she's been brought up.” “Have you known her long?" “I’ve seen her about the marshes. on and off, for four years; since she was a bit of a child in pinafores. It's a disgrace old Saxon not sending her preperly to school. and taking her about the country in that gipsy fashion. My little boys are as fond of her as can be. and I must say she has a winning way with children. But I say it isn't respectable, a. girl that a e danc- ing about in inns and hotels. an her a clergyman‘s granddaughter. as I’ve heard say. Excuse me now, air, but I'm wanted in the bar.” Fortliwith Mrs. Nokes hustled and almost immediately afterward there was a tapping. or. rather, scratch- ing. at the dour. and my little friend’s yellow head was thrust in. V "Do let me have my tea with you. Mr. Adrian Hervey." she eu'liispei'ed. “There’s only a tiny hall between your sitting-room and the one I'm in. and it’s so dull all by myself. You will let me bring mine"in. won't you?” Before 1 could answer she had with- drawn her head, and she reappeared in a very few seconds, bearing a tray up- Oi‘b‘VlllCll licr rations of ham, eggs, tea, and bread and butter were laid out. This she placed opposite to me, and then sat 'down to her meal in high glee. lVliilc she ate she prattled gaily. I have never seen any one enjoy herself as thoroughly as did this child. Lovely ‘ as she undoubtedly was. it was the joy of living shining from her eyes which constituted'her chief charm. She con- sumed a hearty meal, but her manners which were quite free from vulgarity. and like those of ‘a well-be- haved child, dissociated from her any idea of greediness. although she had fasted for close on eleven hours. “Father,” as she called him. was ap- parently pretty strict with her. in spite of their vagabond existence. Once, so She said, he had “been an actor.” and, among other avocations, which be ap- peared to have more or less unsuccess- fully attempted, were those of second- yiolin in a. country theatre, ring-master In a circus, teacher of deportment and clocution. ,commercial traveler. pianist at small dances. "Father's a very clever man.‘ chn confided to me in impressive tones. “He knows such a lot of Shakespeare, and 2.:e's tried to teach me some of it; that scene where the. little prince doesn’t want his eyes put out; he took a. deal of trouble to teach me that. But it would all go out of my head the last minute, and he had to be prompting inc all the time. which made him mad with me. Somehow, when I learn, I can't re- member. Every now and then, when we ve been long enough in a town. fa- ther sent me to school. :lut, you see, Ive always known I should have to trump again-as soon as he left off pay- ing the bills; and I suppose that un- settled me and made me slower than I'd have been otherwise. And I'm sorry. and for my- mother was a lady; and al- though father says l'iu one, too, and 1m not to forget it in whatever com- ilianlywl'm in, 1 don‘t look much like one, ( O . She shook out her tangle of soft. fair hair. laughing at me across the table. I Wish I could convey in vords the charm about everything she said and did. Even trivial, “commonplace remarks. spoken in defective English, " sounded sweet from those. -soft, red ‘lips. and when she laughed. two rows of little. glistening teeth, white and even as a r. . The Dye that colors ANY KIN of Cloth Perfectly, with the SAME DYE. No Chance of Mistakes. Clean and Simple. Ask your Druggin or Dealer. Sand for B kl Thclohnson-Richlrdson Co. Limited. higgueztl .: 41;. she answered. he locks me in my room or out beats my band‘s. .I was deaf for . _._v.'..._._.4.,__. to a Fairy. child‘s, lent to her face an irresistible fascination. Her movements, too, were free, un- restrained, and graceful as those of a young collie dog; and in spite of her gypsy life I have never seen any home- bred or convent-bred young. gentle- woman who breathed such an air of and innocence of evil For her name was Lilith. a. \ 'liich suited her faii‘ylike beauty. absolute purity as Lilith suxon. - name “Not a. drop of her blood was human. But she was made like a. fair, sweet woman." So sings Rossetti of the legendary Lilith, “snake-wife of Adam": and the lines came into my head involuntarily when I heard this child’s name and gazed upon her soulless beauty. ' For it was soulless. I suppose, as that of 'Undine in the German story. She was “Joy made a living thing"; and the troubles of her adventurous. hand- io-mouth existence seemed to press but lightly upon her. “If father only it would .be a lovely life." “I don’t like school. and wherever I've been ~to School the girls locked down upon me becausel was shabby and know so little. though I am so tall. Oh, it was so lovely when father‘s money gave out, and we were out on the trampunder the sky again! Then I felt as if I could breathe. and wasn’t chok- ed up any more. And I love dancing, and father won't let any one tease me, or be rude to me, you know. Of course I get tired. and my feet ache some- times. and I get coughs and colds in the winter, though I love the snow, and snowflakes in the wind teach me how to wouldn't drink she said. red patch from the forge, and then the rush of warm air and light when the inn door opens and we go inâ€"â€"oli, I’ve had icicles on my eyelashes before now â€"â€"â€"i.hey’re very long, you see, and they catch them. But a nice hot cup of‘tea in the bar-parlor, if the landlady’s at all kind, is worth waiting for, and, al- though it‘s a bit tiring sometimes to dance after a long tramp. it warms one’s feet and keeps off chilblains. doesn't it?” . "‘Are you very fond of your father?" 'She.stared across the table at me. looking a little puzzled. She'was rest- ing her chin on her hands again now. as'she had done by the window. and her large blue eyes began to look languid, and sleepy: ~A long day in the wind and rain. followed by a considerable meal. had tired her; “Oh, I like father when he is kind." “I can't like" him when when he _ three months last autumn after he had boxed my ears, so he doesn't do that now." “Do you mean to say that he actually strikes you?" I asked. in horror. ~ She flushed for the first time. “Yes. I oughtn't to have told you. I suppose. It is only when lie has been drinking. You won't let on I told you. will you?" she added anxiously. ' it.” “I am so sleepy." she said, yawning. “I can hardly keep my eyes open. I should like to go to bed." “VViiy don‘t you?" “I daren't. Father might come home any moment and might want to play the piano and make me dance if there‘s anybody about to make a collection And if I‘d gone to bed he’d be I wonder if I might a from. dreadfully angry. curl myself up on this sofa and get bit of a doze?" “By all means if you like. I'll ring first to have the 'tea things cleared away and to put you in Mrs. Nokes' charge until your father's return. I’m going out myself for a stroll and 'a smoke. Good night Miss Lilith.” ' She broke into a hearty laugh. “Doesn't that sound grand?" she cried. "‘Miss Lilith! n't say Miss Saxon; that would be grander still. But you’ll be coming back from your walk soon won’t you? You'd like to see me dance?" I hesitated. “Not again to-night" I said all those laborers and people. I should be pitying noticing the “before know you were tired and you," I added hastily. “and'I like to remember your happy dancing this evening. when I first found you. Good night. little Lilith, and I hope you will do nothing to-night but go to bed and sleep off your fatigue." “Good night. and thank you ever much.” I rang the bell as I went out. and, meeting Mrs. Nokes in the hall, I told her that the child was tired and want- ed to rest on the sofa. Mrs. Nokes was clearly somewhat scandalized by Lilith’s incursion into my parlor, and I had to_pacit’y her by assuring her that the child had not bothered me at all. but that I had been amused and inter- ested by her chatter. “She's been quite spoiled by people noticn‘ig her pretty face. and thinks she can do what she likes when the old man isn’t here to'keep her in order. At least. my husband andsome others think Lil- ith’s' pretty. but for my part I can’t see it._ In our part of‘tiie country the men like girls with a bit of flesh on their bones. Maybe she'll fill out when shes a bit older. though she must be iiiteen by now, and too old to go about .niaking friends with strangers.” “Is the old lll'dll. her father. cruel to her?” I asked. “He’s a regular brute when he's . had In. drop too~ much,” Mrs. Nokes answerâ€" ed emphatically. “But he looks after her sharp enough when he‘s soberâ€"I will say that for him. He'd take on dreadful if he'd known about her bother- ing you like that this evening. And I must say it‘s the first time I've seen any flirty ways about her.” Mrs. Nokes was evidently vexed. and I left the inn for my walk. annoyed by her coarser expressed comments. Any- thing less like "flirting" than this beau- tiful child's sudden friendship with me I have never seen. and the expression 3:11?ch me. 1 ‘ .» s passec by the window of the li - l tle parlor. I saw by the laniplight cleaié- l.\ into the room. Lilith was alreadv asleep. her flushed cheeks nestled upon the hard black horsehair sofa through a tangle of yellow hair. “'iiite lids and long. brown lashes veiled licr eves; and through her softly parted lips her bi'eaihflcame as regularly and lightly as tiia\t or ihlslcfflhlllg‘ child. ; nc w i t at picture in m' min and heart. where it will remainSerigravt3 ed until I die. I went do ‘ ' " ward the seashore. “n dgdm to- $0 really CHAPTER V. It was nine o'clock when I left the Rose and Crown. The storm and the wind had passed away, and the evening' was neautifuiiv line and clear. ~ “I promiSe I will say nothing about ‘ I wonder you did- , ‘ troubled look that flashed into her eyes;. . . rs , ‘ ginning to dress for Lady Bashf reception; and had I been in tow should have had to accompany her. of these entertainments was so like ' other they were monotonous. The ‘ame people in different clothes, the nine every ctrve Away in London, Madge would babe- dianionds on bare necks. of which one had got to know by i from seeing them so constantly; same crush on the wide staircas(E, eart_ the the top'of which the hostess. tire ready. and smiling mechanically u. her rouge, would be standing houi ter hour receiving her guests. The same band one had heard night after nightâ€"â€" it was the Blue Bohemians that .livere all the rage that particular season“ would be playing the same tunes which had haunted one for weekspastfl and from the mon’lent that the names. “Judy Carchester, Lady Margaret Lor mer. Mr. Adrian liervey!" had been given out. until the time when I wrapped Madge‘s cloak about her shoulders and squeezes myself into a small space, in the carriage we drove on to Mrs. Mac- clesfield's dance. nothing would happen that was: unexpected or that had not taken place dozens of times before I had reached the old churchyaid by this time. and pushing the gate open. I entered and sat down on a broken frag- ment of wall which crowned the giassy cliff. to smoke and think. 11? i Web a woman. I told myself. I would almost rather lead the life of Lilith .Saxon than that of Madge Lorlincr. The openâ€"air ti'uiiiiiiiig, the constant change of scene. the perfect freedom of the existence led by the little wait and stray sec-in ‘d in- finitely inorc picturesque and varied than the stupid'stcrcoptyped rouiid of so-calied pleasures followed by my cousin. ‘ It was. true that hunger, fatigue. the coarse jests of strangers, and hard words, and even blows from her only protector, were the fate of the lovely child I had left curled up asleep/0i my sofa. But Lady Madge suffered from loss of appetite and sleeplessness and in her restless craving for fresh ex- citement and distaste for her own so- ciety; proof was given that she ound no real liapiness in the fasliionabl. dis- sipationa which occupied every moment of her time. Lady Carchester‘s tongue, too. must be sometimes almost arl dif- ficult to bear as old Saxon‘s fits of drunken brutality. The “Diamond Queen" was fortunately of avta iturn disposition. but she seldom spoke et'ccpt to utter some scathing and: unpleasant criticism of men and things, and. al- though mother and daughter were con- stantly seen about together. it was pret- ty well known that their relations were by no means too cordial. for both ladies had “nerves.” and both had tongues and tempers. as my uncle sometimes found to his cost. As I sat smoking my pipe on the ruin- ed wall. under the swaying pine- recs. the picture of a woman rose up sudden- and seemed 1y before my mind’s eye, painted on the air before me. Nadge’s face, intensely sad in repose. brilliant and changeful in talk, a mocking unilc on her mobile lips. varying swifty to scorn or to momentary tendernesz‘. A brilliant face, but. as it occurred to me for the first time, not a. happy one. Thoso unfathomable dark eyes of hers looked. tired and sad when her high spirits merged. as they often did,“lint0 the reaction of deep depression. She lived her life thoroughly, but I began, in those moments of quiet reflection. to doubt whether, after all, she enjoyed it, remembering her accounts of those sleepless nights when chloral failed in its desired effect. and, coming honie af- tersome entertainment, in the small hours of the morning, she woul lie awake until her cafeflau lalt was br )ught to her bedside. feeling, as she once own- ed to me. "quite hopeless." (To be continued.) .___v1<_____ The complexion that is honest is the one that won’t come off. minors; undid? In the stud they often become so devitalizcd that *ho ; be given along rest- from such service. This is due {amt-“hag. absorption into their systems of poisonous Bacteria or Germs. '- both contagious and sexual, in serving mares of all degrees of Health and Disease. fl‘here are many of these germs var an‘JI‘lOlIB to‘the stallion. 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