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heiress. But in subse uent letters he told me that though Uncle ohn had died with- out a will, that he had intended to make one in my favour, and that he had absolutely consulted Mr. Yorke on the sub ect. But before my poor uncle h made a settlement of his afl'airs, death had stayed his hand. ' .' . - “ My late friend," wrote Mr. Yorke, “ was literally cut ofi‘ in the midst of his days. He died of apo lex . without a mo- Inent‘s warning. and h s a airs are naturally loft in some confusion. I have acted as his solicitor for years, but I shall be glad if you (as his nearest surviving relation and heir- ess) will now come to my assistance." So it was upon business that Gerard Yorke first came to see me. He came to obtain 3mm neCessary signature on some deed, and i. me he and I first met. ' In this way my kind aunt prattled on after Mrs. Yorke had left us. Then, after our high tea was over, we proposed to go to ether over the house. an'old'hunss, filled with oid‘fash- ion and valuahkthings. My uncle must have been a man of taste, for he had left abundant evidences of it. Books and pic. tures, rare engravings, and antique orna- ments, met our eyes on every side. There was a splendid library also, and a sort of chili crept into my heart as I went into this room, for the old servant whom we found in charge of the house told us that “ the master had always sat here, and had died. poor gentleman, upon that very chair." As I stood and looked around, my poor uncle's presence seemed to me still to linger about the room. He had sat thereâ€"he had A handsome man, with a smiling exprea- died thereâ€"Ll was thinking, a lonely, solitary aion, and a frank and cordial manner, rose man i and hold out his hand to me when I went; into-our little sittin -room to receive him is after being presentm with his card. “ (‘ome away, my dear," she said, " this .1 very gloomy room. I like the break- fast~room best I think, and with a light so it was upon business that Gerard Yorke first came to see me. He came to obtain sow necesssry sign-titre on some deed. and has he and I first met. A handsome man. with s smiling expreg. siontsnd sfrsnk sud gordisl msnnelj, rose “ My late friend," wrote Mr. Yorke, “ was literally cut off in the midst of his days. He died of 3» leg. without a mo- ment‘s warning. an h a a air: are naturally loft in some confusion. I have acted as his solicitor for yenrs, but I shall be glad if you (as his nearest surviving relation and heir. 033) will now conic to my nuistanceQ' ' “ I had everythin that an. old woman could want," she sai . looking smilin 1y at mm, “as lon as your dear papa live , and :30 now that e is gone, it is my turn to see “shit you have everything.’_’ The letter which announced this news to me was simcd Stephen Yorke. Mr. Yorke (Stephen Yorke), i afterwards learned, was the uncle of Gerard Yorke, and the head of the firm. In this first letter Mr. Yorke simply announced the fact to me that Mr. John Denhy was dead, and that I was his heiress. But in suhse uent letters he told me that though Uncle . ohn had died with- out a will, that he had intended to make one in my favour, and that he had absolutely consulted Mr. Yorke on the subject. 1 " My dear, what will you do with it I” I ran up to her and kissed hel dear faded cheek. " I‘ll buy you a new silk dress first, aunt, “ I said, laughing g, “and then I’m aura yo’u won’t know youlself,‘ you'll be so smart. But though I might, and did jest about it, I felt it was a xenon. as ,well as 3 ha py thing. to become suddenly 'possesse of wealth. For it seemed wealth tome, this fortune which poor unclP John had left un- willed behind him. “ Bnt girls must have dress," she would sayjo excuse her extravagancea upon my attire. Thus, she wu always buying me something, and when she asked almost in I voice of «we When she heard of my fortune. H Mu .‘nmr uvlmi» uvfll um. .I- ...:.|. :L en 1' But before my poor unoio Vb}; 'n'I'ado ark settlement of his affairs, death hfld stayed his hand. ' - cap of washed net, and dyed and re-dyed ribbons. Aunt Sarah was great in dyes. She was always dyeing something. and her fingers were frequently stained with her Various chemical roceues. She agenemlly were thin dyed back silk, but 0 never seemed to buy anything new. How could she? She was too generous to be well dress- ed, and so gave away all that she might have spent on her own adornment. upon her purse! She had always lived with us, and I believe that she had given away every aixpence of her money, a l the years that she hm! been'et the pafeouage. “ Fifty thousand pounds!” criefi Aunt Sarah, turning rather pale after she hod read the la er‘a letter which contained the new8. ‘ " ’m not very clever, Alice, at urithmetic â€"hut that will be something" like two thousand a year won't it? My dear, what will you do with it 2" I think I sec my dear aunt's face yet, 33 she asked this momentous question. A Iittle woman, with a delicnhé hded skin, and fgded gofg light hajr,_pal:ted qnder her We went to live in the front street of Biddlestoue Village. Biddlestone had been my father’s living. and so we remained among our old friggds. But to et me “ everything," this gener- ous littleieart had to give up her choicest luxuries. And what were these? Her daily cherities, her constant alnwgi Jings. She gnve up indeed the only pleasure of her life when she took me, and I am sure I must of cost her many a bitter,tear, when she had to 30 among her old pensioners and tell them that she could helpthern no more. Ruth was so different. “"e missed the dear old~iashioned parsonage garden, the oultry, the vegetables, everything ! It was Pike beginning another life among familiar scenes, and then the money! Neither Aunt Sarah nor myself were good managers. I mean we had never been used to inch, and ordered things at first as we hm been ac~ customed to order them. But seven hun- dreds. year is much more easy to manage than two. In fact we did not know how to manage on two hundred. \Ve tried all sorts of ecoro:ni:s ; we beiame vegetarians forafortni ht, and were very ill in con- sequence. udeed we were always trying to save, and always spending more than we had to spend. when one day the news reach- ed us that Uncle John Denby was dead; that he died without makinga will, and that I, as his nearest surviving relation, would inherit over_ fifty thousand paunds. She had just two hundred a you, and I think she had more than two hundred claims proposed that for the future I would live I with her. Dear aunt said nothing to me (for she is the most kindly/hearted littlel womau in the world), but perhaps she notl unnaturally expected that my rich bachelor uncle would ofl'ar her some small sum for my maintenance. But no. Uncle John never answered aunt's letter; never came to my father’s funeral; in fact ignored my ex- istence ; and I went to live with Aunt Sarah without bringing her even the smallest ad- dition to her narrow income. Even when my father died, and Aunt Ssrsh and myself were obliged to leave the parsonsge, where I hsd been born, and ' where I had lived tll my life, Uncle John took no notice of us. ‘ Aunt Sarah (who is my lute mother's only surviving sister) wrote to him at this time to tell him of our loss, and glso thet she I w.” just twenty-one when I first aw Gornxvl Yul k. He «me to no me on busi- ness. He was the junior partner of u firm of soliciturh wLo hm the management of my hm uncle‘s afl‘uin, and he came to see me ahgrtbv aftpr my uncgo's d‘oagh. Befure this find heard the newsâ€"newa which I could scarce! be [eveâ€"that I was my uncle's heiress. hid never expected this, nuy, I had no right to expect it, for my poor father hnd quarrelled with his brother, and for years and years we 1nd seen nothing of Uncle J ohn.“ Author of ‘ 'l‘uz Vn'u‘s GO\'£1:VE5.~‘," “ Foonnwrs 1! tan: SNOW," “ Qurru 'l‘wx,” I-) A RxK N ES 5. CHAPTER I. [ALL Rum-n; RESERVEDJ DORA RUSSELL, " She is so kind," she said, "and it is so lensant for us, dear, to be well received. ffelt a little nervous about coming to Dere- hamâ€"I will own that now, for I have always heard the people were very roud hereâ€"but since Mrs. Yorke‘e visit feel quite zit-home.” ‘7 My son told me that he had seen you,” continued Mrs Yorke, still fixing her eyes upon my face; "and as I knew your poor uncle well, I naturally feel great Interest in you. Anything you require pray send to my house for. '.’ . This was the commencement of our aa- quqinmnce. I took Mrs. \orko down- stairs, and introduced her to Aunt Sarah, and A_unt_ Sarah w_aa_ delighted with her. “Pardon me.” she said, " for intruding myselt upon 'ou so soon after your arrival. But I knew Ir. Denby well, andI heard from my brother-in-lnw Stephen Yorke that you were expected in Derehnm this afternoon. And my reason for calling is to offer you any neighbourly assistance you may require. I live close to youâ€"only one house between us. Indeed, acar‘éely had Aunt Sarah and myself arrived at my late uncle’s house, when a card was brought to us, on which was engraved “ Mrs. Yon-lief" I weiit up to the unused drewingroom to receive this lady. A stately looking women, with proud marked featdres, and grey hair, was standing there, and as I entered, I saw her l_ook_at me keenly. ' The society of Dereham is essentially clerical, with its dean, its canons, and minor canons. My uncle had moved in this circle and the Yorke family also belonged to it, though Gerard Yorke said he did not. His mother, Mrs. Yorke, at all events, certain- ly; did. She was narrow-minded enough to t ink that no one could be worth knowing who did not belong to this set. Yet she re- mind as very graciously. we' drove straight to his house. A grey, gloomy house enough, but at the same time handsome and old-fashioned. It stood in a narrow street of other large and loomy houses, which were all inhabited y the ge_n_try of the plaee._ But still it seemed right that I should go. This money brought me new responsibili- ties, and I ought not to shrink from them. So I a) gued, and so Aunt Sarah argued, and yet to both of us it was agreat effort to move, and to go among complete strangers For we knew no one in Dereham, but the two Mr. Yorke‘sâ€"Mr. Gerard Yorke personally, and Mr. Stephen hy correspondence. But at 135% we decided to make the exer~ tion. “'8 shut up our little house, and took our one maid with us to Derelnm. and on a lovely evening in the early spling-time we found ourselves‘driving into the quiet 31d pathedral to_wn )vherp poor Uncle John ‘ Dereham is a cathedral town, and Uncle John lived under the shadow of the famous rey old pile, which stands towering on the banks of the windin Dere. ‘ “ Do come,” said r. Gerard Yorke smil- Lin , as he rose to take his leave. “ I must tefi you Dereham is the dullest place in the world by way of an inducement. We are the most pompous people there, ~ and do over 'thiug with decorum." “l ho so,” I answered smiling also. “ \Ve ive under the shadow of the church, you see," said Mr. Yorke, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “ nay, I may say under the very wing, for unless you are no- ticed by the dons you are nobody. I am one of the nobodiee, I believe; but In uncle, Mr. Stephen Yorke, is a somebo y, and my mother spends her whole time in calling and makin herself agreeable to the canons’ wives and aughters.” “ And you do not I" I asked. “ Sometimes I do, and sometimes I do not,” he replied, still smiling. “-But it is a frightfully stupid place, and I wish you would come to en iven us? Besides my uncle declines to take so much responsibil- ity. You are Mr. Denby’s heiress, and you really must come to look after your proper- ty. There is a great deal of silver and all sorts of valuables in the old house, I believe. So please decide to come.” Then he went} awa ', but his visit made me feel very unsettled. I told Aunt Sarah what he had said, and she also thought I should go to Dereham. .-Yét I felt afraid to do so, somehow. In spite of ourgmonetary difficulties, we had been verylhappy in our little house in the front street [of .Biddle- stone. Dellby _11ad lived-«pd diqd_. For one thing he had be‘éu 'tho bearer of an urgent message from his uncle, to request that ( or the present at least) I would go to lien-chum and live in my late uncle’s house t ere. ' ' " Yes,” he answered. “ I am Gerard Yorke. My uncle, Mr. Stephen Yorke, who has written to you so often lately, requested me to cell, As I o‘unced to be in your neigh- bourhood. He wishes â€"” But I need not write down here all the business details which followed. Gerard Yorke nu) ed more than an hour. and when he went a.“ ay I felt strangely ungwttled. " Mr. Gerard Yorke?" I said with some hultation, for I was unused to receive such Viacom. I thanked her for her kindness and court. All was still here. The light which Mr. Yorke carried was the onl lightin the dim, lar 9 room, and as he he] it aloft there was not log extraordinary to see. Only the chair in which my poor uncle had died; only the oniinar furniture, and yet still] felt a nameless ( read. “ There is nothing here,” Said Mr. Yorke, “ Very well," hownami," ‘rlfi’l‘f vonturoâ€"‘ and shoot I” and he opened the library door uho swim, and Ohtered the room where his old f_rien(l had died. " Nay, aunt,” I interrupted. " what non- sense 1 We shall be quite safe if Mr. Yorke is with us.” “ Yes, of course,” said Mr. Yorke, “ or if you refer it I will go alone.” “ o,” I said, “ that shall not be. I will go with you, Mr. Yorke, but if Aunt Sarah is afraid she had better not 30.” H lib Am..- H “m Am... 0-..]. u :: ..-._ _- " My dear,” said Aunt Swill, " if Iyon go I will go, but Ldo not approve of it. think it wrong, but if you choose to tempt Provi- dence I will do so also." co'uld nét help hé} Héfidfisfifi; It was 0:); stitutional, but she would have followed me, I any gyro, into a battle-field. ” Won’t {on take my arm, Mia: Wot-bur- ton 2” said 1r. Yorke, looking round, as he proceeded across the hall. “ No, no," cried Aunt Sarah, cloning her 0g“. “ no you go first, and if you see any- ]-.. _LA_AL n Hfi,‘ ,_ l -_ _-- wâ€" tfilg'F-shofit.” a r. Yorke laughed aloud 31: this, and at quLSanh’sA rawoatricken tones So the dear nervous little woman raped my‘firmha‘nd. went with me trembljng y. She hind us, was she, aunt 2” “She Was almost touching us," replied Aunt Sarah, with a shudder. “ No, Mr. Yorke, 'I believe it was a manâ€"I believe that at this moment a man is concealed in the house, and I dare not 0 to bed !” A' in Mr. Yorke smiletf. ” V0 will investigate it,” he said. “ Will vou owith me, now, into the library, Miss War urton ?" “ Certainly not,” said my aunt, “ nor will I allow Aliceâ€"â€"J’ Mabel Neel was the name of my uncle’s old servant, who 1nd had charge of the house until we came, and who had shown us over it. “No,” I answered to the lawyer’s ques- tion, “ Mabel Neal followed us closely out of the door. She was not one moment be- hindfiua, was 311e, aunt 2” Then I releted to the lawn exactly what I have written down. How I missed my purse, and how I rmembered leaving it on the library table. No letter wu lying there then, yet two minutes afterwards a letter was lying there. “ A'nd' Mabel Neal stayed a moment or two in the room behind you, did she 1" uked Mr. "Yorke. “ It is an idle threat,” he soid, looking at aunt Sarah, " aid you must not allow it to alarm you, Mia; Warburton. Still of course we must be at the end of it. Tell me ex- actly, please Miss Dauby, how you found this letter.” Mr. Yorke greeted us most kindly, and then amillngly asked to see the letter. “ I dare not go to bedâ€"â€"" began Aunt Sarah. “ But aittin up would do no good, I fear,” answerer? Mr. Yorke, still smiling and holding _the opgn letter in 13in hand. Thefi he tea-d it attentively, and an mnoy- ed expression passed over his face as he did “ He was your poor uncle's lawyer and friend,” said Aunt Stu-sh, " end he will know if there is any truth in these dread- ful words ! My dear, I dare not go to bed â€"I dare not let you stay here Oh ! why did we ever leave Biddlestone ? Oh,‘,deer ! Oh, dear l” Andlmy poor aunt began to cry. “ , Mr. Yorke answered this letter in person. A thin, tall man, no longer young, and yet not old, with 3 hi h, finely~shaped nose, and with a very no leâ€"almost loftyâ€"ex. pression of face, was presently shown into the breakfast-room, where my aunt and I were sitting, both (it must be admitted) not in_a._ver;3: heppy atatepf mind. _ _ To lease her, and partly to satisfyzmy- self, wrote a littlefinote tonr. Stephen Yorke, asking him if “he would klndly‘call during the evening, as a very strange letter had been found in the house. But when we got there I thought it only right toshow her the letter. She was dread- fully fri htened, more so even than I hod expecte , and at last she insisted upon send- ing a}; once for Mr. Stephen_Y_orlxe. By this time, however, I had rooovemd my composure, and as I knew that Aunt Sarah was very nervous, I answered as lightly as I could. v“ Only someone trying to frighten me," I said. “ Come away, aunt, and let; us go back into the breakfast-room." old servant. I gave a hali- -ycr an I finished radius these words, a'nd as I did so, both Aunt Sarah md the old servant hurried bmk mto the room. if mm? is is. my dear 11191404 m, m. “This letter in written to wnrn you, Alice Deub. that you have no right to be hereâ€"no r ght to live in this house, and if you do so it will bring den er and peril to yourself. You have no rig t to your late uncle’s money. It is not yours, but come- one ’3 wno has a better claim to it. Be worn- ed in time. " Then I aliened'i'e, and a thrill of 1m stole over me a: read the words it contained. 'l‘lggygvprqurfollpwa :â€" «hint: or two. We will be able to nuke It qujuullvolxfl _ . I picked it 'u , and tend the address. It was quite plain y writtenâ€"hat m numeâ€" Migns Ali_ce Deulgy. J y This was a letterâ€"a letter which had cer- tainly not been therosiow moment- ago, dir-ectr‘egl to myself. II W's-w - '1' ullowozl my aunt to (lr'nw mo .wuy, And we left the [dusty toguhor; the old ur- ygng following uund closing the d. bo~ hind no. ‘ Ronmely, howavor, land we reached the hull, into which um "bury door oponod. when I discovered that l Ind loh my purse behind mo, which I remembered I run carrying £13on hnnd when we entered tho -1 weut up “Flight to the table which stood in the centre of the room, and there, as I had expected. I found my urge lying But. as I put m hand out to II t It, nome- thing olsu whic was .ying clone to it caught " I have left my one I log on the table Aunt Sarah," I midi: “ uni I'll go back on! at. it." And In! aid tho word. I plllOd out Sarah and tho old lorvnnt und ugnln opgned the library door. " w nan 13 us, my dear 1'" cried my aunt. :‘ What in the matter, Min 1" united the CHAPTER II. “ You see she makes him on? a para on, Miss Warlmrton," sold Mr. Yorke, eml ng. “ Well, however had we are, our mothers generally believe in us, the: in one comfort." “ He is such a d fellow," said Mrs. Yorke, addressing unt Sarah. “ I am in- deed fortunate In my son! He has never ‘coct ‘rpo a teakâ€"never ev_en a sigh. . “ Where In myuboy, Uncle Stephen ?" she said to Mr. Yorke, as we sat and chatted. " If he had knlown we werei gging toihaveho rett onn ady to open t e even ng, e goulx Kev. hen at home, I am an " “ I’m not answerable for him, argoret, out (3! office hours," said Mr. Yorke. So we agreed to accept his hospital“. . An hour later we found ourselves sitting n the {OI-table, well-furnished-drewin - room 6 his bongo, and celki to him as we had known him all our vets, and no! 0113 for a few hours. . rs. Yorke also was most frlendly,‘ and received us with great kindness. u \Vharn I. nu. Iv... thud- u.__|_-_ on -L- 'But after a little more conversation on the subject we decided to go to his house for the night. Indeed, what else could We do? Aunt Sarah declared that nothing would induce her toeleep in the one that we were in, unless a men could be procured to reboot us. And it was very diflicult to fin a. inan whom we could thoroughly de- pend upon at so short a notice, and we could not ask Mr. Yorke to leave his own house to Bleep in ours. “ My dear Miss VVerburton I’m getting an old man," said Mr. Yorke, with a little comical shrug. “I wish I were young enough to require to be cheperoned by my sister-in-lewâ€"but grey heirs and wrinkles feedhnone !” And Mr. Yorke gave a little ““3 - . d All“ Sarah‘fluttercd and blushed yet more eep . , “i“ on old !" she said. “Nonsense, Mr: Yorke. I consider you quite a young man." " But I fear Miss Denby won‘t consider me uite a oung man, thongh,”snid Mr. Yor e goo maturedly, and he laughed agein, and looked et me. “ Oh i I’m sure I don’t know,” said Aunt Sarah, blushing deegiy and looking at me. “ 0f courseâ€"it's al correctâ€"and allâ€"all that kind of thing, with such a delightful lady as Mrs. Yorke at the head at your householdâ€"but atillâ€"” “ I think we havelmd tlle Insure of see- ing Mr. Gerard Yorke, sni Aunt Sarah. " At least, Alice has.” “ Yes,” I said. “ Then you know us all," said Mr. Yorke cordial! . “ond we are bound to other also by mymriendship for.poor Mr. enby: So “ My brother‘s widow. ’ oaid Mr. Yorke. “ She and her only hon live with me, and Gerard as ou know erha s ism firmer.” u t flfinz mu hn‘vngnr‘ «R ’ y P A “1---“..- .J n..- “How can I tell," he answered. "I don’t believe in unseen hands, you know, and I thou ht ‘that was rather a suspicious remark of ers. But in the meantime, Miss Warburton,” he continued, addressing Aunt Sarah, " if you are afraid to sleep here to- night will you come to my house? You know were we live? Just one door Nrther down the streetâ€"and my sister-in-law has already made your acquaintance, I believe 1” N m. I “an ” nah! Anna. 0---]. ...... ...-.. - "Oh Iyea, ” said Aunt Suah, revivin little, “ we were delighted with Mrs. Yor: â€"so affable. Isâ€"she your brother' I wife. ”’ is, 'that I think it would be as well if you were to discharge Mabel Neal. Old ser~ vants, you see, get queer notions, and do not like changes. Mabel lived with your poor uncle about twelve years, and I have no doubt had he lived to make a will that he would have provided for her. As he did not make a will I would advrse you as a friend to discharge herâ€"but I would advise you also to make a small present over and above her wages. ” “ Yes, of course, I said, “butâ€"but do on think she had anything to do with this letter, Mr. Yorke ‘3” “ No, sir, Bathing,” answered Mabel. and again she drew her resolute lips closely to- gePhes- _ “ You broil ht your on servants with yog _f_rom _Bidd ostone, of course 2" “'Well, 'I did not expect you to have a Eargq rgti_nu_e!"_h§ said. > _“_But what I mean - “ That will do, thenâ€"you need not stay," said Mr. Yorke. After she had left the room and shut the door behind her, Mr. Yorke said in rather a low tone : - ““0 brought on} one servant, Mr. Ygrrkeé” I pnswqgeq snpiling. _ _ Mr. 'Yorke smiled also, 5nd looked at me very-.5951!» ___ “ Unseen heads I \Vhst folly,” said Mr. Yorke, " there ere no such things Mabel as unseen hands, though there are concealed hands sometimes. But enough of this. You know nothing of this letter then 2” ‘( "A (I‘ll nn}k€nn ” Lunar-Inna "nkn‘ a...) “ Iwu over it this afternoon sir,” said Mabel. “ I thought perhaps the ladies would like to eee it use soon es they arrived, and so I put it right and straight. There was no letter lying on the table when I left the room then, and I noticed none when the ladies were looking over itâ€"thnt’s all I knowâ€"I cannot, of course, be enswei able for unseen hands.” ‘ “ When were .y'ou last" in the library bo- foro ou showed the ladies over it I" then ask Mr. Yorke. you will come to my house fnr the night at eagt, _won_'_t you, Mia} Wsrburton Y" “ But you have llld charge of the house since Mr. Donby's death? You ought not to have ellowed my letter addressed to Mini Denby to lie unnoticed. Someone must have written it, and someone must have laid lb on elm table, end it. was your hueiueu not to allow enyone to do this.”. As Mr. Yorke thus addressed her I no- ticed‘e quiver pan over Mabel Neal's lips, and then she drew them tightly together, unify-1e were euppreeaing_eom_e emotion. _ “I know nothing. sir. I 03w no fetter, and I followed the ladies clone out of the room.” two. Thin wonun hul‘ A muowhgt "mull-liq two. The n per p‘u-e of it. was not uncom- monâ€"Hun o . duk-browcd womua of per hcpl forty you", with dark. but nut Inrgo oyu. nud n nllqw akin, um («tum 01 an ordinary ty ao-excopt the 'sm Thll was Inmlve III dolxmihod-Ioo g. Sh. look. ed a woman 0! Itroug will bud worful pmiom. Yet it was not tn unplou as {non ; not A cruel nor even ; bud two, but 3 very moluto one. “What. do you know ubom. this letter. Mebel. thet Mien Denby has picked u 2' l_ne ukod, with his eyes still fixed on or Tim Woman‘s color chmged (on moment, and than she ammerod, steadily enough : u I Itnnw nnlhinn nh- I -n\u Inn Mr. Yorke turned round and looked at he! morph: n she ppproudl‘le-i us.» > lnokiu round. “ Moy I ring (or Nobel Nu]. {flu honby ?" "Oh. yea,” lumwored, and Mr. Yorke rang up room bell, um! I (ow momentq lug-I- MAI»! N09! gutoml the room. ~ ‘ The moat agitetble oerâ€"n ion in lav-who has ex eriencod-enodgh d ppoinhnonta to take 0 the keen edge of conceit. ' Buflerere ere not generally ewere thet theee dleeeeee ere cont-alone, or that they ere due to the reeence 0! living peneltee In the lining membrane at noee end emtechlen tubee. Microscopic reeeerch however, bee raved thle to be elect. end the result In thet e elmp e remedy he been tom-muted whereby eetenh, ceterrhel deetneee end hey {ever ere cured In from one to three elmple eggllmuone nude pt home. A ____e.e_e A_Â¥een, 1* e . 6n Food H “.0! stamp!» “m0 00.3mm“. Then I new in my dream that it is much easier going out of our way who n we ere in it, than getting into it when we ere out of iLâ€"[Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. Guam-h. Qatari-ha] Deanne“ and Hay fever.__ ’onuoumo ample A pllowom undo I. llama. VA pamphletsxglunlng lane: irfgfingng ll gut)". 4‘__ l_, When Isll walled Remedies fail, In. Suge’ nCutan-h Remedy cum. To dream of a pon'iemus whale, Em-t on the up 01 his tall. I: the sign 0! l storm (I! the weather in wanng. Unless it should huppen to m . Dream: don't amount to much, any how. Somc signs, however, are infallible. If you ane‘consfiipategl, with nq appetite, tortured are consti ated, with nq a tile, tortu'red with sick eadache and b8 on: symptoms, these 3i us indicate that you need Dr. l’ierce’a leasant Purgative Pelleu. They will cure you. A" druggieta. ~ Blood Will Tell. . There is no question about itâ€"blood will tellâ€"especially if it be an impure blood. Blotches, eruptions, pimples and boils, are all symptoms of an impure blood, due to the improper action' of the liver. When this important organ fails to properly perform its function of purifying and cleansiu the blood, impurities are carried to al parts of the system, and the symptoms above referred to are merely midences of the struggle of Nature to throw off the poisonous germs. Unless her warning be heeded in time, serious results are certain to follow, culminating in liver or kiduey disorders, or even in consumption. Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery will prevent and cure these diseases, by restor- Iug the liver to a healthy condition. Elevator Youth (inquiring) â€"“ Suite 16, miss?" Toronto Miss (blunhing)â€"" No, only fifteen last January." “Yes, he’s good-looking enough," she said, as we were dressing together before breakfast next day, for aunt had insisted upon me sleeping in the same room.with her. “but, of course. he’s not to be com- pared to his uncle. Mr. Stephen Yorke has a. noble face, now I He’s a good man, I am certain, just by his expression.” A- Perhaps it was only the old story. Aunt Sarah did not seem to see anything so very remggkable about berard Yorke. “ Bui‘. 'he's natiyoun‘g," I animated, trying to make my hair fall more becomingly over myAlggow. ' "‘Not very young," said Aunt Sarah, “but a‘ few years; and even a few grey hairstdo not. matter much when the heart is in the right place. I smiled good~nnturedly. I was thinking _â€""Dear aunt, how funny it is that aha should compare Gerard with Mr. StePhen ! A young, handsome man with s unddle~ oFed oneâ€"but I suppose it is become she He had seen much of life; he hsd travel- led and had lived in London for some years, an altogether he was difi’erent tosny other man whom I had ever met. Shall I describe him as I saw him then ; as sometimes I still see him in my dreams? Noâ€"ior I em older 'now, and my pen would but drew a cold ioture of a face which then seemed almost cautiful to my girlish and inexperienced e es. yFrom the first I liked him, and I thought he liked me a little, too. “'e seemed to understand each other and I found myself wishing to talk to him again the next morn~ ing when I awoke ; to ask his opinion upon a favorite book; topoint out to him some especial passage. But it was a delightful evening. A new joy was'in my heart. and a strange, new brightness seemed all at once to come over my hitherto somewhat drab~tinted life as I set and talked to Gerard Yorke. the tiouble of trying to frighten "10:th. forfigqqately I’n1 not [myth itf’ 7 7 “ My dear mother, it is but nothing," continued Gerard, in the same light,.hap y way, and during the whole of the rest of e availing he talked in the same atmin. . , I,I!I‘1-I o “ My dear Gerard !" said Mrs. lorke mgber unguily. “ You ere not afraid, sre you !" asked Gerard, looking at me, with his hsndsome, smiling face. “ No.’ not exactly,” I answered, “ and at I admit I wish this had not happened. it seems like an ill omen somehowâ€"on the first day of our arrival." Gerard leu bed a clear, loud laugh. “ I wish had anything to be warned about,” he said. “But no one would take “ N o,” answered Mr. Yorke, grovely, “ no, he was notâ€"u far at least a one man 01}.qu of anotheg’s‘aptionn, he was not." “ She is his brother-'5 only child, ” an awered Mr. Yorke, “and if he himself were not married, and had no children, she in clearly and undoubtedly his heiress." “A vulgar attempt at intimidntion," he said, “ There in no one else in there, uncle, bug Miss Debby, who has uuy [01 claim. upon__Mr._De_u}1y'_a eagatg 2” _ “ P'erln he was 'married 2" ifaltered Aunt Sara . Than 1110 story of th; {until-{5:0 letter was told, and Gerard Yorke shrugged his shoulders after he had heard it. “ So I perceive." laid Gerard Yorke. com~ ing forward, amilingly, and holding out hi- hand to me. “ Welcome to Dex-chum, Miss Daub . I had no idea that I should have bad tie p‘leasure of s'eeipg you banish?" "‘I , J ust at his mtfineut We heard a clan loud voice elngin on the stem outeido the_door. “ The: in era-d 2" exclaimed Mn. \ orke, eurun up." But t a word. had scarce! ' pusod her lips when Gerard Yorke open the door, end put in his heed. “ Well. mother. bu the {mounting heir- euâ€"” he began, and then he stopped aud- denly abort, for be new me. “0h! Stephan! What will then Mia think 1" am Mn. Yorke. ruining on 0‘ bar whim thin hand: deprecatingly. H’l‘l.n nun. m--. Inmlu n ..............I u- "Thu in the truth." uid Mn. Yorke, "9f 3‘ pfuytj ring in her tqno. "Genrd !" laid Mrs. Yorke. hutily od- vancing towards him. “ do you see thot we have guest” Miss Denby and Mia Wor- burwu.” “The mm; mou'likely.”";ulwerod Mr. Yorke, um smiling. “flat you no t toad mother. and can we no Iaulu in your only Inn N is old. ‘ (1-0 m: emu-mum.) ‘. Dixon 5503. iié'x'fn';