" OR, GERVASE: RICKMAN'S AMBITION. ~ > ie i im Gon Ga om Ge OE Ju ch ae uD Gm usaf Lf ad Wel et et ae ee ee Oe t++44+ CHAPTER V.--{Continued), Sebastian. found most sympathy and comprehension if Edward. Though the latter did not doubt that Paul had done wrong in running away frofn the trou- ble he had brought upon himself, and wrong in renouncing the duties and re- sponsibilities of his life, he saw that he could not turn back, ,Much as he dis- liked anything approaching to asceti- cism, he was inclined to think that a nature so flery and..so destitute of self- control needed the iron discipline of monastic rule, as a confirmed drunkard needs the restraint of an asylum, and the habit of total abstinence. Moderation seemed impossible to such a man, But these lenient views of monasticism were spasmodic and were held generally after conversations in which the. friar had spoken with burning and eloquent en- thusiasm of the joys of self-renunciation, of his hopes and aspirations, of the pros- pects held out to him of more active em+ ployment, in which his medical know- ledge and other talents would be devoted the service of men; and explained {to him that friars differed from monks in combining the active with the contem- Flative life, a fact which was hard to drive into his obtuse Protestant under- standing. Alt those times it was impossible even for a practical hard-headed Englishman not to see that Friar Sebastian was a nobler being than Paul Annesley; though in cooler moments he thought with pity and regret of his lost friend, Paul, and was inclined to wish him back again, faults and all. After an interview which Paul had with Alice in the Manor garden one day, he gave up striving to banish her from his thoughts, and suffered her to'remain there till the last hour of his life. He was surprised and glad to find himself quite calm in her presence, and recog- nized that the terrible yearning which once so distracted him was quite dead, and succeeded by a pure and tender re- gard, so free from selfishness and so content with absence, that even one vowed {o give up all human ties need fear nothing from it. Hoe gave her a little crucifix, which she wore ever after, ancl his face at the end cf that interview had a more humanly happy look than it had. worn for years. When he re- turned to his community he was so changed by this painful but wholesome contact with the world that the brethren scarcely knew him. From that time all austerities not imposed by the rule of his order ceased, and he regained his former bodily and mental health. And he regretted the vows he had taken, no human being ever knew. esides removing the imputation from his cousin's name, Paul had much fo do to put him in possession of his property. First he had to prove his identity and come to life legally, which was a trouble- some business; then he had to execute @ voluntary conveyance, transferring the bulk of his landed property, which, as was mentioned before, was not en- tailed, to Edward Annesley, and a deed of gift by which his mother became the legal owner of such property as had been assigned her by his will; a portion of his property he reserved for himself as an Englishman, and yielded to tho fraternity as a Dominician friar. Those who received him into the community had consented, in consideration of the uliar circumstances--among them condition that he could not take the vows if that involved touching the pro- perty he had renounced to his cousin-- t be content with the small fortune he was then able to bring. All these things, as will readily be imagined, were not effected without time and patience, and the aid of learned and expensive lawyers; the last circum- stance is pleasant to reflect upon, be- cause humane people like to think that 60mebody--if only a stray lawyer or so-- is benefited by the chances and changes of this mortal life. When, after that pleasant interview with Alice, Brother Sebastian went to the house to make his farewells to Sibyl and Mr. Rickman, Aiice remained behind alone in the garden, She was not a monk, but a young liy- ing woman, with a warm and tender heart, and what had passed between her and her former lover and present friend had stirred that heart to its depths. She * wandered slowly along the garden paths, through the wicket to the mea- dow, until she found herself under the dark roof of the pine trees, which sway- el gently in low and solemn music above her head. It was winter, and the quiet gray day was drawing to a close, the mild air taking a sharp edge as the sun sunk. She paced the dry soft carpet of fir- needles, with her, faithful dog by her eide, and @ growing happiness in her heart. uth> h riper years; that yoke was now fallin from her-shoulders, and life, which had been so bewildering 'and difficult, began fo show a clear and easy path for her weary feet--feet stid. young though so : br hie by the stony mazes they had en. Siby} "oe Mr. Rickman had taken the go ase more SHE4E4 4444 4444444444444444444444 hoped ; Sibyl had even said that she al- ways regarded the match as a mistake ol both sides; Mr. Rickman had com- forted himself with the reflection that he should not lose her. But he no longer clung to Alice as he had done; he flung himself more now upon Sibyl, which, after all, was more natural and desir- able. Siby?'s affection. for, Alice was -as great as ever, but from that time Alice observed that a distance arose and gra- dually widened between the brother and sister; she supposed that Siby! had some intuition of the truth, a suspicion increased by Sibyl's silence upon the re-| in lations which had existed between Ger- vase and herself. The y sky overhead broke into pearly fragments, tinted with gold and rase toward the west, where the glowing sunse to have consumed the fast speck of cloud; the fir-trunks Jooked incandescent in the warm glow ;. Alice's face was doubly transfigured with radi- ance from within and from without, while she thought of all that had passed, and how of the three caskets of lead, of silver, and of gold, the best was hers, and listened to the tranquil country sounds, the hum of tho threshing-ma- chine in the yard below, the voice of the trudging home with the last pails of milk, the evening song of the robin, pathetically cheerful, the cheery good- night of a laborer going homeward past the farm-yard. Then she heard another and well- known footstep, beating quick even time on the lane which led by the meadow to the back of the house, and a well- known voice singing. 'The song stop- ped, for the singer caught sight of her figure over the hedge in the evening glow, and he went into the meadow in- 'stead of going to the house, whither, with the ostensible purpose of announc- ing the approaching marriage of his sister Eleanor with Major Mclivray, he was bound. Alice turned toward him, the sunset clething her in raiment of living light, thiey-had scarcely met since the stormy evening when he brought Paul's mes- sage, and thus he had not heard the story she had then promised to tell him. It seemed but a moment from Edward's first sight of her figure in the evening glory till when he stood by her side be- neath the soft murmurs of the'pine-roof, thrilled through and through with ex- quisite happiness. "Dearest Alice," he said, after some preliminary words had passed, and he had read her heart in her face, "I think you are going to take me after all. I never could believe it possible that we should live apart, even when we were most parted. First, tell ime why you were so scornful to me. How in the world did you come to think me such a mean, sneaking fellow? Some of Mas- ter Gervase's work, no doubt." Alice looked distressed and turned her face toward the sunset behind the black hills, till her features were transfused and etherealized by the lucid glow. "LT wronged you," she replied, "and owe you some amends. Otherwise I would not speak of it." . He did not like this distressed look. "Why," he asked, "should you hesitate to expose one of the greatest scoundrels that ever breathed? Alice, you don't mean to gay that you ever cared for that----" He was obliged to stop for want of a sufficiently powerful epithet. "I know that he schemed and worried you into an engagement." "I cared for him very much, and I promised his mother on her death-bed, but I never loved him," she replied. "Well, poor fellow! after all, it must have been a great temptation. My dear- est Alice, you are quite sure that you never loved him?" he added, with a re- lapse to anxiety. Alice smiled, and Edward's heart again admitted extenuating circum- stances in Gervase's case. She then gave him a brief but complete narrative of the manner in which Gervase had blinded her," had twisted circumstances and mis- represented events until she had been obliged, in spite of an underlying. inner conviction to the contrary, to accert Edward's imputed guilt as truth. And whenever Edward's indignation rose to boiling-point, a look in Alicé's [ace was sufficient to make him regard the de- linquent with charity. But when, at his earnest request, she told him of the steps by which she had gradually been let into the engagement, Gervase once more became a villain of the deepest dye, "Bul, after all, he commented, at the close of the recital, "he had a more thor- ough and lasting feeling for you than could be expected of such a scoundrel), And Paul cared only too much for vou. It was more like infatuation with them ; not that either of them ever loved you as Ido and did from the very first." It is strange that a woman should Have such power," he reflected, after a pause; "it is pees if you were so unusually u f "Really [" amused her. ent with Ger- gently than she ould have] 88 not the worn. sorrowful woman the' tidings. thas cew-man calling the cows by name and] ing the a Alice commented, with an smile. Because," he added, surveying her with unmoved gravity, "you are not." Yet the 'Alice before' him to-night was hi guess what he had and made her feel that no devotion on her part. would be too great tre of one's, heart." : "And yet you wanted {0 marry. Sibyl?" "Dear Sibyl!» That rascal might have let his sister alone, He persuaded me that her happiness was in danger, and that she, as well as others, had mistaken the nature: of 'my friendship, and I was fool enough to believe him. Sibyl is one. of the sweetest creatures I ever knew, Alice." ' : "It appears, afier all, that you would have preferred Sibyl," Alice said, smil+ g. < "Dear Sibyl," he repeated, gravely. "But," he added, turning to Alice again with a bright smile, "she won't have me. She told mé that I was in love with you. She advised me to wait. -She said you were worth waiting for. She ought to know." se Alice turned her face away and was silent, ' "{ think no one will ever know what she is worth," she said at last. "We shall never have a better friend." h2 added; and Alice echoed his words in her heart. The sun sunk; all the glory of its set- ting melted into a warm violet tinge, fill- in western sky; and making the dark hill-side darker than ever against the 1 ht; every sound was hushed save the tinkle of a distant sheep-bell; cot- lage windows glowed warmly in the village, showing where fire-sides were cheerful and suppers spread; white rime crystals were beginning to sparkle on the cold grass, the stars had the keen brilliance of frost; wise people were in- doors; yet these two lingered beneath the pines, unconscious of cold; until even Hubert's long suffering came to an end, and her displeased whines recalled them from beatified cloud-land to the solid earth. Love begins in the warm morning of life, but does not end with it; though the music of birds is hushed, though evening chills come and hair tis whitened by the frost of years, it is still warm and bright in the hearts of the true lovers ; there the sun always shines and the birds continally sing. CHAPTER YI, > "Shart of pitten' of 'em under graund, you caint never be zure on 'em," Raysh Squire observed concerning. the reap- pearance of Paul Annesley, against whom he had secretly borne a grudge ever sincé the irregular and unceremon- ious manner in which he left the world. "Once you've got vour feet of solid earth atop of 'em, you med war'nt they'll bide quiet. Buryen of mankind is a on- grateful trade, but I hreckon there ain't a zurer trade nowhere. Ay, a dead zure trade is buryen," he added, not intend- ing the grim pun. These cheerful observations were part of Raysh uire's contributions to the hilarity of the wedding-party. assembled in the great kitchen at Arden Manor to celebrate the marriage of Reuben Gale-- who, after several winters spent in Al- geria in the service of young Mrs. Regi- nald Annesley, had oulgrown his con- sumptive tendency--with one of Daniel Pink's daughters, a house-maid at the manor. "Right you be, Raysh," replied Mam Galo, "'tain't often work of yourn has to be ondone. They med be ever so noisy avore, they bides still enough when you've adone with 'em." "Pretty nigh so zure as marryen, your work is, Raysh," John Nobbs struck in with view to divert conversation to livelier channels. "Ay, marryen agen," continued Raysh, irritated by the assumption that. marry- ing was not his work, "'tain't nigh so zure as buryen; we've a-married many & man twice over in Arden Chuch, There's wuld Jackson, you minds he, Master Nobbs? Vive times we married 'em in Arden Church, vive times over, _f vive vine women buried alonside of en out in lytten. Dree on 'em was wi- dows." "I don't hold with so much marrying," observed the bridegroom,.to whom these remarks were distasteful. "Once in a lifetime is quile enough for any man," he added, with a profound sigh and a serious air. "What! tired of it-aready, Hreub ?" inquired his grandmother; and there was much laughter and rough joking at Reuben's expense. "Marryen," observed Raysh, when people had exhausted their mirth and were again amenable to eloquence, "is like vrosts and east winds, powerful on- pleasant it is but you caint do without it in the long hrun." . "Come, Raysh," interrupted yourself," "Yes, yourself," echoed Reuben. @ s = "You caint do without: if," continued for fo atone for} ~ 4 _ DAIRY WISDOM IN BRIEF. - Every dairy utensil should be kept scrupulously clean. None but the best cows should get the good feed. Of course, you don't have peor feed, therefore' you should have none but the best cows. Beautiful oows are not those that-ap- fear best on canvas in pictures, but on the balance sheet in dollars and cents. Stop and think how many steps you might save yourself by having a place f(r each dairy utensil and keeping 't there. Try it a few days and you nev- er will go back to the old way. The calf should have. whole milk the first two weeks of its life. Then begin reducing the quantity of whole milk and add a little shorts or ollmeal, When five or six weeks old it should be sub- isting wholly on skim milk, shorts and Ay. Cold may cause a big appetite, but if (he food is all used in fighting the cold there will be very little left to increase the milk flow. Just take notice. There is a big difference between a cold and a warm stable. One means comfort and profits, and the other méans loss. Promote the cows that do not Mei up fo the average yield of the herd. Give them a walk off the farm. place them with cows that can and keep above the average yield. Cows that are compelled to wade in mud and manure half knee deep, sleep under, open sky and eat corn and hay cannot be expected to produce much milk. Cows must be well fed if they give any considerable quantity of milk. »Very rich cream is quite apt to plas- ler or thicken in the churn, so that the conclusion ceases. This can usually be corrected by adding. enough water ct the same temperature as' the cream to dilute if so if will drop. The- cows should be well bedded both for. comfort and cleanliness. A bran mash 'now and then bofore calving is most beneficial. If the udder is excessively caked and hard, it is well to draw.a little milk from it. This will. help.to ward off. in- flammation and garget. It's poor policy to use anything bul the best bull. A grade has a place,et, the head of -your herd. Do not move cows faster than a com- fortable walk while on the way to place of milking or feeding. The breeder who has a definite idea in view can improve his animals. 'The one who goes at it blindly never can. Too many déirymen do not know whether their cows are paying or not. They do not know which are the good and which the poor ones. . Make a study of the herd of cows, se- lect the best ones, sell the poor ones and make the cows keep you instead of you keeping the cows. ; In ali well regulated libraries there are signs posted in conspicuous places bearing the one word "Silence." Similar signs should be posted in every milking hed. If you want a ventilator to draw well, says a dairyman, run it straight up and do not put any curves or dips in it, and le' no man tell you that the middle of the barn is the proper place to have the ventilator. I would rather have four ventilators than one. Sunlight is the natural disinfectant. Sunlight and pure air are two great es- sentials to the health of man and beast. Dark, poorly ven'ilated and {jlthy stables &re disease breeding grounds. Keep the stables Clean and let the sunlight and fresh air penetrate every nook and cor- ner therein. Provide plenty of windows in the stables and fix them so they can be opened and closed with ease and facility. Most cows begin to fail ip their milk about three months after calving. Care- fu: feeding and persistent milking is the only way to overcome this tendency: A cow once allowed to fail\in her milk is very hard to get back to the normal yield. do DAIRY COW STANDARD. Some twelve years ago, when I took charge of a dairy department, we had about a dozen ordinary grade cows, p have about thirty cows milking and twenty younger animals coming on. We have steadily increased the produc- tion of our herd, and last year the average of our herd, was over 8, pcunds of milk per cow and over 300 pounds of butter per cow For 1906 the record is mot so large owing to the fact that we have five hei- fets with first "Gaives, which have brought down a However, believe we are steadily improving our About the Farm : 5 I] where it wil When we buy 4 ight and morning, it into the Bab- standard we get rid of her. them a second trial. - That, briefly, is the p acopied--raising all our heifer calvés, having them drop their calves at two. and a half years old, milking for two lactation periods and weeding out at- the end of the second lactation peériod.- To improve the quality of the herd and the quantity of the milk yield a man must not only breed his cows right and weed them owt according to standard,: Lu! it also involves the question of feed-' ing. --_ say: "No wonder. your cews milk well, You feed them so well." Cows cannot be expected to milk well ona small quantity of feed. [have no time to discuss the question of feeding in detail, The main thing is to give the cow all the bulky food she will eat, but: it should be' of a digestible and paia- {able nature. In addilion to this, she should receive, eight pounds of meal to every thirty! pounds of milk produced in order that she may produce milk econoniically, -- - . . . HOSTESS. Re- | Pian to Discard an Old Gown and Puf on New One Which Had 'Arrived Late. Mrs. Harold Baring, formerly Miss Marie Churchill, of New York, who mar- ried into England's great banking fam-, ily, is credited with inventing a clever plan to enable her to put on a new gown which had arrived late. She was a dinner which Edward. Vil. graced by his attendance. She naturally wished {fo make the niost of her opportunity. This is the secret the servants are whis- ot defeat. , Al 6 o'clock her new dinner costume from Paris had not arrived and the guests had assembled. The maid -was' in despair, Not so madam. -- She called, info her presence the butler. arid his as- sistant. To the latler she gave instruc- | tion that at the opporlune moment dur- ig the early part of the dinner, after the maid had notified him that the new gown had arrived, he was to spill the soup, anything convenient. into her lap.' The more he spoiled her dress, one sh had worn once before in the presence of the King, the more she would be grateful. PROGRAMME CARRIED OUT. The programme was carried through perfectly. The man stumbled admirably and the dress was soaked and the bo- dice ruined by green turtle soup. A laug'. had just gone around the table. The King had made a witty remark. Even as the butler served the soup ta the King there was no indication in nig impassive face that the moment had are rived, and the hostess was serene up to the moment of the stumble, A cas: cade of soup from the plate he held ag he stumbled fell upon the hostess' cor. Sage and thence down the whole front of her pale blue skirt. "Oh, oh!" gasped the ladies, who no longer envied their hostess. The butler trembled apparently. The King was kind and offered his sympa- thy. "You are excused for the evening, Geston," said Mrs. Baring, quietly, and the culprit: withdrew in apparant con fusion. Then to the King: "If your Majesty will excuse my brief ' repaired." SLLF-POSSESSION WINS. possessed manner of the hostess mad such an excellent impression that the King and the olher guests, while she was absent fram the table, went Gn with the dinner in the best of. humors. wsa expected that af least half an hour would elapse. ut in "barely - twenty, minutes Mrs. Baring reappedred, doubly{ enchanting in all the glory of her new; hands-softly. ©. ress! have ouF admiration--and our envy,": sentiments of the feminine guests. Sev- unexpected triumph, ie 4 Was it the maid or one of the bullers Ppt _prov: 7 Anyway, the ext day the whole story was all over Biarritz and on its 1 -be told and retold for months to come King is more her ¢! ot Meifers. with their-first calves we give . Jan we have - WHY THE SOUP WAS SPIL?' CLEVER STRATAGEM OF THE KING'S™ recently hostess at her Biarritz villa at - pcring--how she brought triumph out' ; eahsence I believe the damage can be, The King bowed smilingly. The self- . But beautiful Mrs. Baring loses no-, - cows | thing by the betrayal of her secret. Tha, Joves to see a beautiful and eharm- ©« triumph . through her wit... bam woman inl sesomrore He cs . t "Bravo, madam--you are an enchant, You had our sympathy; now you . Perhaps the King guessed the changed *"~ eral of them could hardly conceal their, chagrin over their rival's complete and: y+ 2+ Paris costume. The King clapped his th way to Londons detye ke ne parent > " Betas ' 3 chu