ake [A Girl of the Peopl By tr, ©. , Witemese a Be , 'Asthor of "The i' * Fertunec's Sport," " Miss Barna After waiting some time in answer, to the advertisement in the personal column a woman darkly veiled reveal- ed herself and took Sheila to a se- cluded residence near Bournemouth, where she expected to solve the sec- ret: She was being shown through the house by the mysterious wo- man. For my part in your troubles --i admit tnat I have indirectly haa a part--I am sorry, for I had no grudge against you--I have none now. But certain things were inevitable, and the Pawns had to be swept off the board with the queen and the castles, You pened to be one of the pawns. But Bow you are back on the board again, end instead of being a pawn, as you 'were before, you are a queen--or it is fm your hands to be one if you choose. I have done my work, and brought you @o this place for a motive with which you yourself have novhing to do. Last evening when I met you it was ab- solutely without feeling either for or egainst. But you are a plucky gin; and I admire pluck. You ate a beautl- ful girl; and I admire beauty. There- fore, I am now more your friend than your enemy, though you may not cre- ait it. And with an honest wish for your welfare, § advis> 'ou, when you bave crossed this thr....old and learnt what you will soon learn after the door has been opened and closed, to guird your tongue well. Listen, before you speak. Do nothing, say nothing, on the impulse of the moment. Reflect that you have everything to lose on the one hand, everything to gain on the other --and be wise. That is ail." In spite of-myself and my strong pre- judice, amounting to repulsion, I was dmpressed. A feeling of solemnity fell upon me, cooling the heat of excite- ment. "Thank you," I said, more gent- ily than I had spoken yet. "I will re- member." She opened the door, looked me in the eyes, and I passed : 'to the room be- yond. The door was © tly closed again. n speaking of her "employer," or the "power whom she served," Sintra Leigh had never used the word "he" or "ghe." Nothing that she did seemed to be done carelessly, therefore I be- should 6ee for myscit, whether the per- gon unknown were man or w an. expected, however, as I entered, o see someone rise or come forward; but ap- parently the room was empty. It was a handsome Mbrary, old-fash- foned, like everything else in the house, Bave only t .e room allotted to me. Two of the walls were lined with tall book- cases. A third showed a wide doorway, covered with green velvet curtains; and above and on e'ther side were por- traits, They were 'three in number, all strikingly well painted. The face over the door I instantly recognized as that of Sir Vincent Cope, whom I had once supposed to be my father. Evidently the picture had been painted in his early youth, before the one with which I was familar at Arrish Mell Court. On the right side of the door was a Portrait of Sint.a Leigh, many years younger, but much the same in feature as now. On the left was the face of a man so like her that only the hair and the clothing sho-ed that the two por- trajis had not ween painted from the in securing all your things for you-- even in the jewelry which the wretched girl Fanny Newlyn confessed to having Pawned, and the new clothes which your mother told me you had taken away to sell. And the room where you slept last night; I had everything that was there taken out and new things put in--things' which I hoped vou would ike. You can never doubt my love for you after to-day." I was bewildered still by the far- reaching cleverness of the trick which had ended by bringing me here. It only fove, had prompted a man of Rog- er Cope's type to such desperate mea- sures; and I understood t means by which he had succeeded in carrying out his purpose, why it had been necessary to carry it cut at all, nor what he intended to do with me now that I wag here. But I wished to understand, and I controlled the angry words t rushed to my lips, meaning to k them back until I had found out how far Roger was ready to ex- plain. It even entered my -mind that Roger might be mad; and the thought added to the need for caution. "Yours is very strange love," I sala, quietly, though my voice was unsteady and a slight' trembling shook my body. "And you have taken @ Strange way of showing it. I don't understand ex- actly what the way has been, even w. "You shall understand if you like," he returned, "though there are other things of which I would rather speak, things which I have been waiting im- Patiently for a long, Jong time to say." "I should like to understand," I re- peated, ignoring his last words, sofa. Oh, don't look frightened. [ don't Mean to force you. But ii you won't do what I ask, you can't expect me to give up my will to yours." Without further objections I srt down and Roger sat beside me. i saw him glance at my hands as if &s contem- plated possessfng himself of one; but hurriedly I clasped them t gether In my lap, and Roger attempted no more aggression. "Now catechize me, if you choose," he said, "and I will do my best to an- swer. Afterwards--but there will be time to talk of the 'afterwards' when it has become the present. Begin, my little cousin. I am in a mood to be frank, now that luck has turned my way at last." I hoped that he might prove mistaken in believing himself so favored, as far 1s his boasted luck had to do with me. But I did not stop to con*radict him, for I was anxious to come ot the truth which lay at the betivin of 50 dark, so deep a well. "Did you know ight I went after I left Easel street?" I as "Not at first. I only anand that IT had known. I called at Easel street on the evening of that most eventful day be- cause I couldn't help it, because I couldn't keep away from you. And I had to hear that hardly an hour before you had gone. You can guess a ttle of what I felt. And I assure you that Mistress Fanny was obliged to Isten to some home truths for her brutality." His words convinced me that John Bourke had been right in his conjec- teres. Roger had set fire to the truln; same model. As I looked at these things, wonder- ing, the velvet curtains over the door- way moved. CHAPTER X31, The Power Behind the Throne. I caught my breath, In an instant I fad forgotten the portraits, and had eyes for what should come out rom behind the curtains, Then they were swept aside; and I @aw the man whom I might peruape have expected, yet had not dreamt of @eeing--Roger Cope Our eyes met. Instantly all impres- gion of mystery was gone. I felt that I ehould have known from the first that ft would be explained in this way. "My darling--at jast!" he exclaimed, and came towards me quickly, with both hands held out. But I put mine behind my back. "Bo you are the 'employer' of whom that woman spoke!" I said, viciously; "and this is your house." ' "I thought you might have guessed by this time whose place it was," Rog- er answered. "Many things might have told you, even ¢f you had forgotten seeing the old photor-aphs of the house taken from the outside, and the great. hall wi . : anyntrude kept. It was my C usin Vincent's place, yeu know, until on his Gerth tt came to me wio - Now I understood w i ih ad feit tl Might that I had lived through the @ceneé of my arrival before; why 1 had known where to look for the staircase, and why, when I had paSsed out of the hall, the Impression of familiarity dis- appeared. I had seen the photographs of which Roger spoke, but so long ago that my forgetfulness was scarcely sur- Prising. "And then, all your pretty gowns and your silver things, and jewels," Roger went on: "who but.one who loved you would have thought of having them ready for your errival? And who on aij this earth loves you'as Ido? I was half afraid, half anxious that you but the result, just as Mr. Bourke had thought, had come sooner than it was expected. Roger had called, but had been too late to prevent me from leav- Ing the home where I was not wanted. "I believe that Tom Stephens, Fan's pretended lover, was a tool of yours,"' I exclalined, echoing the su seein that ! had come from John Bourk Roger smiled. '"'Rather clever for a me ike you to have 'thrashed that ut In your mind," he said. =m cause no woman ever thought the less of a man for employing any means in his power--even means that wouid be called unscrupulous--to win her for himse!f. Yes, Tom Stephens was a 'tool" of mine, as you put it." "He spied on me, and prejudiced the Managers of employment agencies against me so that I was unable to get work?' "Yes. Fer if you had found work the end would have been delayed. I was cruel only to be kind. Tom sS:eph- ens managed matters very well, and though they went rather further than I anpouted that was hardly his tarp." "Was whe discovered wh¢re I had fake efter I left Easel street?" "No. poor Tom was not skilled detec- ttive enough for that. I had to get an- other man. It took him three days to find you out, Mr. John Bourke, M.P., has my gratitude for saving you--for me. I should never have forgiven my- self for what I had done, if you had succeeded in destroying your precious life. But my gratitude to him ends with tliat episode. His later acts to- wards you were those of a villain; and it was all I could do not to go myseif to his house and snatch my Innocent white dove from the claws of the hawk." The blood sprang to my face and burnt there. "It is like a to speak of 'him so!" I exclaimed, flercely.. "He was an angel to me, while you--oh! I don't yet half 'understand what you have been or may be... I ey ora that pooh - a w of in th scene Bi Mae: oun yoga comin 'guess before anes me whom4- Ob, Sheila, to meet. Sot ey ¢ ela nleasure 1. took sqpaeligg rie gun, now tp flush," the dia plow nd Mi with-tighten~ -- I wee sure that, feeling to~ as you did; anything which {t could' ne would be in vain. I called you 'cousin' just now, as of old. we are no h cousins, I have no seemed impossible to me -that love, and | 'Sit down, then, by my side, on this . onger cou guardianship, no authority, no tangible right to command your actions; at least, I had none until you came to this house. I could not force you to break | with John Bourke against ge own will, and, therefore, for you was obliged to proceed ina nore subtle wa A new thought was born In my brain. "Was Lady Feo Ringwoot another tool of yours?" I "She wes not arate of being such. Nevertheless, I used her. 'a ought to Qe grateful to me, Sheila, _~ saving you. The way I chose was a clever one, I think, and cost me a day or two of thought before I hit upon it. Yet, once seen, it was obvious, for everyone who knows Lady Feo well, knows that she is in love with Bourke ard the with her--or, at all events, that he will mar- ry her." I started = at the words, and blush e I knew that Roger had "I had never heard of said, quickly, to hide what I felt. * "T have known her, more or less, for years; and though I have never met Bourke we have mutual acquaintances. I 'had but to call on Lady Feo, hint that enemies of Bourke's had got hold of a scandal connecting him with a mysterious girl who had been seen at his house, to set the machinery work- ing. I knew that she would go to him; indeed, I suggested that it would be well if some true friend of his should do so without eae moment's delay, lest his career should be hopelessly ruined by an adventuress, Of course, she was to suppose me ignorant of the girl's identity, and no doubt she thought the denouement all the more dramatic be- cause the information on which she acted had come from me. "When I was sure that she would go to Bourke's house, @ telegram was sent, calling him out, leaving you at Lady Feo's mercy. I thought the rest might be trusted to her. And my only other act of Inter- ference was to request that she should take with her a certain newspaper, to be left at the house when she went away. I alleged, as an excuse for this suggestion, a paragraph which I had inserted, through the influence of a friend, mentioning Bourke name and a rumer regarding him. That was for Lady Feo Ringwood's eye: The adver- tisement in the 'personal' column was for youra, and I hoped that, if you had not seen it before, you would see it en, <As it turned out, my wish was gran "Yes, I walked into the trap," I an- swered, bitterly. "I knew well enough 'that there might be a trap when I went to the Marble Arch, but I did not guess that your hand 'had set it. There is just one thing, though, which I can ' mow be thankful for. Your confession has shown me that I haven't, really in- jured Mr. Bourke. The enemies of whom Lady Feo spoke, and the scan- dail, existed only in your mind. I -- Heaven for that." "Then you are Premature in you gratitude," Roger retorted, the angele cast of his features betraying the emo- tion of anger for the first time. "Scan- dal was busy enough; and Bourke has many more powerful enemies than friends, if only he knew it. As a mat- ter of fact, I have saved him as well as you--though he owes me no thanks for that, elnce all I did was done for you, with no thought of his salvation." "It seems to me that all you did was for yourself, with no thought of any- one else's welfare," I cried. "You have been very wicked, very cruel, Roger-- and wicked than I "That ia not a gracious i a con- | Sidering that my 'confession,' as you call it, has been made to please you," | Reger responded. to any sense of shame. On the contrary, I slery in what I have done--giory in ,eech step that has brought me to suc- | cess at-ast."' "It has not brought you to success, if you mean by that brought us nearer together," I protested. "Though I am tn your house, and you could touch me with your hand--if you wished to 'offend me even more deeply--I was 'mever further from you really than at, Vhis moment." | Roger gave a emitle meant to be pa- tient and pathetic. "That would sound very well," he said, "if you were the Persecuted heroine in a melodrama and 'I the villain of the piece. But as you are actually a human girl, who has made a great many mistakes, end ese at last brought into a safe have against your obstinate little will oy a a ; Man who worships you and 'has worked re for your good, the sentiment is , florid rather than theatrical. You were ' gil alone in the world, darling, and your 'poor little boat was waded you are in your house, which is nine as well, and end anger. <I maven, Sutil have the tat toatl. Keri hid mate of you as perf ot, t myself Nr tes questioning « "That va be never?" I cried. "Rog- carefully left untold." I pointed to the portraits that . the curtained --above end on either side. now that you have always known. Per- haps, though that woman, Sintra » Says you did not employ her -| then, you really sent her to the scorned Roger had risen when I rove, and we stood facing each other. "Do you' think," he asked, with ag- gravating slowness, "that you - have taken the wisest way of dealing with me, Sheila? When a woman of tact lesires something from 'a man, sho doesn't d d it With blezing ey es as 'her right; she softly begs it as a favor, showing thut she may be ready with rewards." "You certainly deserve a reward," T retorted, "but not such a one as you mean. And the truth is my right. I fo demand it. I came to = house oecause it was prom.<ed to es "Not without c.- cation. "Twten, Shella. There ds a mystery. So much Tem ready to admit; an@rmave irown to You through your life. even understand why Aunt trude left you on the night she rv aied, 'and why she died--though with all that I swear to you I had nothing to do. I am ready to tell everything you wish to know--not 'to Sheila or 'Jen Har- fand,' but to my wife, Shella Cope. Is it a bargain?" "No, it is not," Ieald. "If you won't = me, I must find out in some other wou will not find out in any other say." His voice was suddenly flerce, ana my eyes were forced to meet his and dwell upon his widening pupils. e looked at each other In silence. Then I spoke out my thoughts, with sudden passionate impulse. "Oh, what a fool I was to come here!" I cried. "If I had only kept my wits about me, and re- membered that my father's--I mean that Sir Vincent Cope's place, which I had never seen, sin this direction, I might have suspected that you were concerned in this. But I supposed the Place was still let to strangers, as it has been, I know, for years---- "T had to have a nest ready for the bird when it should flutter home," Roger broke in, smiling. 'I wonder if any man since the world began ever conquered mere difficulties for the wo- mam he loved?" "T should think none ever stooped to 80 many meannesses," I flung at 'him. Other sharp words were ready, like swords, to pierce the armor of his self- complacence, but suddenly a_ voice seemed to whisper ifi "my ,ear. "A strange nest for a bird," it said. "'Rog- er had another use for the house. How about those sounds cutsiie your door last night?" o ae ts : CHAP LER XXII. Which Tells How the House Was Ex- plored. I did not repeat to Roger what the imaginary voice had whispered, fer I knew that not only would the be care- ful never to give me a true explanation of what I had heard, but would proba- bly take steps to prevent my finding out for myself, as it now occurred to me that I might do. Roger's own words about the "nest he had prepared for the bird" had put on een into my head; for the I had fancied as an answer to ie alae suggested another more sub- tle reason for his occupation of the house formerly let to strangers. Some- body was hidden there, perhaps; the eomebody who had groaned, and cried the name of Ermyntrude; somebody who might tellemme more than Roger chose to tell without a bribe. I eaid no more about trying to learn the secret in "another way," though such an idea was taking form in my mind; and so deeply was I absorbed in my own thoughts that Roger talked on for a few moments unheard. I was only conscious that he epoke, until nat py "his raised voice, evidently question that had been asked eters, brought me to myself. "Shella, why don't you answer me?" he was saying. I turned my eyes wisi to his face. "Tt was thinking," I re "Were you thinking yet what Ihave just said to you? Do you understand what it means when I tell you that by to-morrow I expect to have the special Hcense for which I have applied? The sooner 'we are married the better it will be for every reason; for, you see, it was a bold stroke, having you brought to this house. If I had not been so sure I was right, so sure that I could bring you round to my way of thinking, I wouldn't have done it. But there was no other course poe | phella, will you marry me to-morro "Tf I gay no, neither --_-- nor on any other morrow to come, hat then?" I asked, rather With a desire for information as to Roger's inten- tions towards me tharm in open de- anoe. "Whet then? I would rather not trust myself to tell you what then. You may ask Miss: Leigh, She will explain." "I am not sure that I care to see her again, after the way in which she tricked me," I said. "If I chose to leave this house, now, without----" "That is the one thing Igan't, for your own sake, allow you to do," Roger cut me short, "untH I have at least your solemn promise that you will be my wife. Can't you see--young as you are, aren't you woman of the world enough: to see--thkt marriage with me is_the.only thing; left to you, Sheila? Blame me for what I have done, if you will, but ft was all through lové of you. And in any Bvént3t's toofate to of 'that. now. You and I must de xg le bsg ae "T will feave you together," eald Rog- As he spoke he was at the doer, and an instant later it had closed behind him. "I should have thought that, 'to a young woman of your intelligence, such szpleumions were unn ve necessary, woman in black. "But I can give "them in a few words, Already, it seems, you have afforded your friends and enemies great' cause for gossip. Sir Roger Cope has offered you the chance of rehabilitating yourself. He was obliged to use rather strong measures to accomplish his purpose, and if you do not fall in with his way of thinking, imstead of matters being improved, they will have been made far worse. are at his house; everyone knows that it is his house; the servants and others know that you 'have been here since last evening--that you came willingly. What will become of you If, after all this, you refuse to marry him "So this is what he preferred. to pet you explain!" I exclaimed. "I -don' wonder ihr even Roger Cope hesitated to say it himself," "Tt may not be pleasant to hear, but ét is the truth: I gave you very good edvice when I brought you 'to the door of this room an hour ago. I am sorry that you don't seem to have remem- bered it very well, but it is not too late yet. AS: I said then, you have every- thing ¢o lose, or everything to gain. ty to help your relatives (who from accounts I have heard nee aif the help that can be given them), an enviable Position in soclety, with past indiscre- ttons forgotten. All this you have, on the one hand; on the other--but per- haps that picture is best left to your imagination." For a moment I did not speak. Then \ (To be Continued.) Mainiy About Peopie. In pronouncing sentence, a Scotch Judge once added: "Ye did not only kill and murder the man, and thereby take away his valuable life, but ye did push, thrust or impel the lethal weapon through the bellyband of his regimen- tal trousers, which were the property, of His Majesty." -- serigeri some friends through his kennels the Other day, and one of them expressed great admiration for an imported set- ter. "Yes, he's a fine dog. His name is Russell Sage." "How did you come to give him that name?" "Well, he never loses a scent." Curran said to Father O'Leary, the wittiest priest of his day, "I wish you 2ré. «6 St. «~Peter." "Why?" asked ©'Leary. "Because," said Curran, "you would have the keys of heaven nd could let me in." "It .would be fetter for you," said O'Leary, "that-I had the keys of the other place." "Why?" asked Curran. 'Well, then I could let you out." Secretary Hay's poem, "Little Breeches," was frequently attributed to the late Bret Harte. A young lady. once said to hi I am highly pleased to-meet you, Mr. Harte, I have read all your poems, but I have enjoyed 'Little Breeches' the most." "Pardon me, madam," Harte is said to have re- plied, "but you have put the 'Little Breeches' on the wrong man," On one of his later birthday anni- versaries, United States Senator Hoar wrote to William M. Evarts and con- gratulated-him upon his length of years. In his reply, the aged -lawyer said it brought to mind an old lady in New England, who had occasion to write to a friend about some matter of trifling importance, and when she had reached the end of the thirteenth page awakened to the fact that she had been rather diffuse, and added: "Please exguse my longevity." Samuel Foote, the English actor, was one day invited for a few moments Into a club where he was a stranger. Left alone a minute, {iid not seem quite at ease. Lord C.tiarthen, wishing to relieve his embarrassment, went up to speak to him, but became gag eng himself and could only say: "Mr. Foote. your handkerchief is hanging out of your pocket." ing around with Playful suspicion, and ti his handkerchief back into his pocket, replied: "Thank you, my lord, thank you; you know the company better than I do." At one of the great London hospitale @ cold storage chamber was being con- structed in connection with the post- Mortem room, and the secretary of the hospital, on going to see how the work was getting on, found that the cham- ber was being fitted with double doors --and those of small size--instead of one large door. He made enquiries as the reason for 'this deviation from the original plan, when the chief car-. Ppenter, who was. superintending the work, replied: '{Oh, sir,.we are putting . in double doors and a wooden pertities nie sree order to keep the sexes apart!" Whereupon Foote, look-. of lest night ap- Money, two charming houses, the abiti- -- xa J. Plerpont Morgan was " dowland 5 t