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'ril'ri', . Ari, 111% NFL V yik't EE - . _ "I swear vengeance against the wo- man who has robbed me of my love," she said solemnly, "and swear that she shall. suffer pain for pain, pang for Ptint'-the sharpest suffering that hu- "..-amul Vengeance can inflict.' As tor you, 1--a do not hate You- a false Woman has taken you from me. It may be that We shall never meet again, but remember always,when you 'think of me! that my heart is broken. - Farewell l " shall diet." He took the burning hands in his. "You are not yourself, Lola." he said. "I will not listen to another word. Let me tell you this--it is better to be frank with you. " Do- lores dies to-morrow, I should go un- .married to my grave. She is the only woman I ever could love; my tate-- and to me it is a very happy one-As lived beyond recall. I could not love you, even it I could proire false to Do- lores. Now be your better, brighter self, and forget all this." “Love. like mine knows no reason," she answered. "I must hear the Whole truth while I am here," she added. "You say it is too late. Per- haps it is not. You do not know the love I have for you. I-T-oh that I should have to say the Words! But I must speak or I shall dio--I would make you happier than any one else can, because I love you so dearly. If you do not marry Dolores, she will cry tor a few days, and than calmly look out for a better match; while T-when you are gone from me--1 "Nay," she said bitterly, "my bet- ter, brighter self is dead. But I do not blame you: you would have loved me it she had not come between IIs-and she shall suffer for it! My vengeance shall fall upon her, not upon you!” Jule raised her right hand sind-he could not" but notice how white and beautiful it was-raised it toward hea- van. so!” "My dear Lola!" he said huskily, "if I could but persuade you that it is all too late'. I am so grieved that I cannot tind words to express my sor- row. Be reasonable." "The time may come," she resum- ed, "when feeble love will fail you. when you will want a nature as strong as your own to help you. Ah, then you will miss me-I who love you He could not help feeling touched. So much love lavished, and in vain! He felt for the girl (herself, for what must be her humiliation, her distress, her anguish'. "I shall take it with me to my cgrave," she replied. "You can such Jove as mine a fancy. Oh, how blind you must be! There has never been a greatiur-it is a love deep enough to have shielded you from every sorrow that' falls to the lot of man. No oth.. er woman Will ever love you so dearly, so truly. Dolores will not. You will worship her and lavish a, whole world of affection and love on her; she will accept it with smiles, believe it to be her due, take it as afhomage you ought to pay her; but/as for return- ing it, women of her stamp take, but never give. My love would be as the breath or the whirlwind, hers as the faintest sigh. Ah, Karl!" she cried in a, pathetic voice, "pause and think be- tore you give up such love forever." Fr "Lolat." he cried, "do not leave me in that way'. You distress me inex- pressibly. Tell me that you will try to be happy. I cannot hear you to leave me like this." She turned her white face to him in. silent farewell, and "hen passed out of his sight. When Lola, reached home. she went straight to her mother and flung her arms round her. _ a "How can you ask me that, Lola? You are all I have in the woNt1, If you were to die, I shoqlgi die too." - "Will you do that which will save my reason and my life t" “You know that I will," replied madame. v- "Then take me away from this place at once. I must no see either Sir Karl or Lady Rhysworth again; if. I do, I cannot answer tor myself. I hate her'. I cannot breathe the same air, I cannot be where I may see her. Take me away. Never mind expense. Let us leave the house to-morrow. Mrs. Jordan can take care of it until we return. You must write to your friends and tell them' that you have been called away suddenly, and have not time to say good-bye. Leave the "Mamma.," she said, "do Aru really love me, and wish me to lively "No. 1 am not. I am more grieved than I can tell you, Lola, but, my dear girl, I have ne"er misled you; it as but a fancy of yours which you W111 forget in a few days" T "I understand,” she answered mournfully. "I am glad l came. I should not have believed it from any other lips than yours. I do not blame you. Remember that, if she had not come between us, you would have car- ed for me in time--you could not have helped it. My great love must have influenced you in the end; you are not hard-hearted." "Why say more, Lola? What is done pan never be undone. 1 have always admired you, and been your friend; more than that I cannot say --more would not be true." "I have not found L2VOI' in your eyes," she said; but Sir Karl inter- rupted her. . "Perhaps fairer in the eyes of oth- ers, but not so tair in mine pr She came a little nearer to him, and laid her hand upon his arm. -"Am I. not as falr as Dolores?" she asked, the old, old bitter jealousy riss ing in her heart. "You are one of the must beautiful of women," he answered. "Look at me," she said, with pite- ous eyes; "am I not fair to see'?" "You love her sol" tones of utter despair. "Yes; and why not? I have never loved any one else. We may all love whom we please." _ w, "You must not speak in that way, Lola. There is no woman on earih so good, so pure, so worthy of all hon- or and reverence as Lady Rhys- worth. Whatever you have to say to me, say; but leave her name out of the question." "Yes, I remember it, It must have been my fancy, then; but I ’did be- lieve you were beginning to care for me--apd you would have cared for eryll' Lst' £0} Lady Ithysworth's treach- Continued from last week she cried, in "But, my darling, what sorrow can come to me?" she asked. "How strange it is! Do you know that that is what I have feared all my life? It has been hanging over me like a. dark shadow-the feeling that I had in some way to work out the mystery of my name." ---- They had been blessed with one lit- tle daughter. At first they had been a. little disappointed that it was not a son, but Sir Karl declared that there could not be too many replicas of Dolores. They named the little one Gertrude, after one of Sir Karl’s he- roines in poetry-ville of Wy- oming.” Even those words had roused his wife's nervous anxiety. "The word 'Dolores' means sor- row," he replied. "I should give her your name,? he had said to Dolores, "but I think there is a, burden of sorrow about it, and the little one must have no sorrow." "Kearl," she whispered, "do you really think my name means a bur- den of sorrow?" "It is but fancy," he reNiédT"C)ne thing is certain, Dolores; while I live no sorrow shall ever reach you. For- get the fancy. The little one shall be called Gertrude." "It is perfect happiness,” she an- swered, "and that never can last on earth. It is meant only for heaven." “Shall I do anything to make you a little less happy?" he inquired with a smile, “Shall I, for instance, form a phantom friendship with some of the beauties of the neighborhood? Shall I try to be impatient and quar- relsome?" "No, certainly not." They were sitting in a shady nook on one of the garden seats. Sir Karl threw his arms around the graceful figure and kissed the beautiful face. The simple expression of great happi- ness had touched him inexpressibly. "Are you really so well content, Do- lores?" he asked. “I am almost afraid to say it; but I am perfectly happy. I hare not one shadow of care, nor a wish unfulfill- ed." So it was settled; and, after his Wife, Sir Karl worshipped his child, though he loved Kathleen but little less. Scarsdale was, every one declared, the most pleasant house in the Coun- ty. The new Lord Rhysworth, who had taken up his abode at Deeping Hurst, Tpas., one, of the same opinion, and a constant visitor there. Sir Karl and Lady Allanmore were the most popular host and hostess in the neigh- borhood. News had come to Lady Fielden that Madame de Ferras was dead; she had died at Heidelberg after a long and protracted illness. She had left Lady Fielden a cameo which she had once *admired, and Lola had sent ito her through the post. That event made people talk of the fam- ily and of Beaulieu. The house was closed now; not even a servant was left in it, It was rumored that it was to be sold, and the rumor proved to he correct. Once more Beaulieu was in the market; and this time it was Flirchased by a rich manufacturer Who wished to make his entree, into S9Ciety. So there was amend to the 11.ists of one family, and the begin- 11mg of the history of another. No other inflammation was received: and it seemed that even the have ot De Ferras was forgotten. For some short time after madame's death there was They fell into the usual routine of lifedand were very happy. One day Dolores put her arms round her hus- band's neck, and said to him---- "This is too bright to last, Karl; it is impossible." "Why, Dolores?" he asked in as- tonishment. The excitement caused by the sud- den departure of p1adame had abated. It was believed that she had gone away from some political motive. No one JrnewHtom relieved Sir Karl and Lady Allanmore were that madame and her daughter had left the neigh- borhood. It seemed strangeto Dolores to live in the same neighborhood, but in a different home. From the woods on the western side of the Hall a. glimpse of Deeping Hurst could be obtained: and,-believing that his idolized young wife would be pleased to be able to see her old home, Sir Karl had the trees cut down which obstructed the View. a. fear of Coming danger in the heart of Dolores, hut, it passed with the Two years and a. half had passed since 'Sir Karl had married Dolores, Lady Rhysworth, and taken her home to his stately mansion of Scarsdale. The wedding had been a quiet one. Dolores would not hear ot this se- cond marriage being celebrated in the same church where she had been mar- ried before; it would not be lucky she averred, and above all she would dislike the memories it would recall. So the Squire, who had certainly grown younger in his daughter's hap- piness, took her up to London, where Sir Karl joined her, and they were married at St. George's, Hanover Square; but it was perhaps the most unpretending ceremony ever perform- ed’in that fashionable church. They went down to Richmond tor their wedding breakfast, and from there proceeded to the Isle of Wight for their honeymoon. Dolores could not leave Kathleen for more than a week; in her opinion no nurse or servant could ever take her-place, where she ever so devoted. They spent one hap- py week on the island, and then went home to Scarsdale. Madame kept her word. On the following day all her friends received a note saying that she had been sud- denly called abroad, and that, the time of her return being uncertain, Lola and herself had written to say farewell. The news of their departure was soon all over the neighborhood. Sir Karl heard it in silence, Dolores with tears. Of Lola's wild flow of ven- geance Sir Karl breathed not a word to his affianced wife. time of your return quite uncertain, Do you understand?" V The sight of the white, set face aroused madame's energies. "It shall be done," she said, "dust as you wish. Rest, Lola, and to-mor- row we will leave this spot, where I .wish with all my heart that I had never set my foot." CHAPTER XIX, His first impulse was to tell her, his second not to let her know, it pos- sible, It could bring her only sharp- est pain, and could do no good. Her words returned to him that her name was a burden of sorrow, and her hap- "A sigh, Karl!--- and such a deep one! What is it about; and from Whom is your letter?" But he did not finish the sentence; some remnant of loyalty, some mem- ory of the time when he had been her friend, some pity for her because she was motheriess and desolate, prevent- ed it. For what she could possibly want him he could not imagine. A half thought crossed his mind as to whether it might be money; bat ma- dame was wealthy, and Lola her only child. Still it would be almost a re- lief to him if it were., money. He would not do anything Without tell- ing Dolores. He looked up with a. great sigh. It seemed to tell that all the perplexities of his life were re- turning. The red rose for him had always been surrounded with sharp- est thorns. He looked up to find his wife’s eyes fixed upon him. 55iftEflEttEBfmffBiYifeNfEi% IttfeftttfE5 . '8t8MtMhSfitltiithf%iirifEtfi?tfittMtf%fWtfWtiWi 'r7N "Lola.? "I thought that old chapter was finished,” he said thoughtfully to himself. "For what can she want me? The girl is a perfect--" L%aSgEaMMEaAaaMEaEagaEaag2gSaEaS2gS2aaEaKagg aaSlaaMGagas,a1SaME Tggi2Tagttggrgsgg-agi5tEagg-sggggign Etataaz_arIatsaTag-at1l _ n -‘--~-~~-~‘-‘ “H““"*‘““"*‘““”“”“- """"='"""'"'"""m1 "I must see you. I can take no re- fusal. My mother is dead. I am desolate and most unhappy. You pro- fessed friendship tor me in former times. By the pledge of friendship thajt you gave me, and by the memory of my mother, I appeal to you to let me see you. I will not enter the house where the woman who stole you from me lives; but for her, you would have been mine. Let me see you this ev- ening; I want a favor from you-- the last I shall ask from you in my life. You must not tell Dolores. To- night, at eight o'clock, I will be at the white gate which leads into your woods. Meet me there. Sir Karl's eyes tell suddenly on a small square envelope addressed to him in a lady's handwriting. His countenance changed when he saw it, his lips trembled, and all the light of happiness went out of his eyes. He opened it anld read these few lines-- "We have a large correspondence this morning," said the baronet, op- ening the letter bag. "This is Lady Fielden's handwriting-a ball or din- ner party for you, Dolores.” There were several letters for himself, some on business, some from friends. "I must say," he cried, looking round with a happy, beaming face, "that I like a. number of letters!” Sir Karl declared laughingly that his wife spoiled them. Dolores al- ways brought the same accusation against him. "What a happy surprise!" cried Dolores; when she saw the Squire. Now the children must come in to breakfast." "It is a gift from Dolores," he an- swered. "I have never seen one half so beautifull" It was a large ruby, in the midst of which was a tiny white rose composed of minute dia- monds. "I used to call her the white rose;" he added, "and she has given me this in memory of it." The old man was only too delight- ed. As they were driving back to Sarsdale, Slr Karl drew off his glove from his right hand, and the Squire's attention was attracted by a ring which he wore. "What a beautiful ring, Karl!" he said. summer days. Kathleen was now about five years old, and little Ger- trude, a. pretty, insome creature, not quite two. Sir Karl drove over early one morn- ing to White Cliffe. "The day is very fine," he said to the Squire; "and I am sure Dolores will not enjoy it without you. Come over to breakfast," HARLEY E. HENDERSON THE TIMES ' GUIDE, WESTON, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 318T, 1917 an Father and daughter talked about him later on just before dinner; and the Squire said that Karl was not well; that there was a, look of dis- tress about his face which could "Mr beautiful Wife!” he cried, "every day of my life I love you more and more." to last!" He kissed her again and told her that they would never be less happy because they could never love each other less; and Dolores was-satisfied although still a little anxious. "My darling Dolores, I shall never keep any secrets from you," he an- swered; and ha spoke the truth. He never intended so to do. If he did meet Lola to ascertain Why she wanted to see him it wouitrbe only to tell Do- lores afterward every word that had phased between them. Of that he felt convinced; so he took her in his arms and kissed her until she cried out for mercy. “We have been married all this “We have been married all this time, Karl, and you kiss me as if we had been married only a day or two." "Do you really, Karl? Ah, my dear, it u too bright, too beautiful "Karl," she. said, "you are keeping a, secret from me-that is, you are trying to keep it; but you will not succeed. I can read your thoughts. You have not the faintest chance, believe ma. You ‘had better tell me at once before I find it out." She kissed them with her sweet, fresh lips. How he longed with all his heart to fold her in his arms and tell her all his perplexity. How at that moment he hated Lola for coming be- tween them! Never was man so sore- ly perplexed; and the loving wife read the perplexity in his face. "I cannot tell. I think you will soon send them all away. Kiss the lines. Dolores, and they will vanish as if by magic." "You are; and a greater crime, Karl, you could not commit-in my opinion at least, for I love to hear your laughter. What has been the matter all day? Even papa has noticed it; he says that he fears you are not well." "This is quite a. new line over your brow, Karl. I never saw- it until to- day. Now what has brought it here?" She went up to him, and her finger traced the lines on his face. "What day of the month is it,Kar1?” asked Dolores, as they stood together in the library after luncheon. "The tenth of June," he replied. "Well, I shall always remember the tenth of June," she said, half laugh- ingly, "as the first day on which you seemed dull arter our marriage." In some strange manner all the brightness was gone from the day. They went out tor a. long drive after breakfast; but Sir Karl's Jests were tew--he even forgot to smile. His one thought was, What did Lola. want with him, and should he tell Dolores? He looked at the bright, sunny face so radiant with happiness and love. How could he sadden it even for 'a moment? And yet he hated to keep a secret from her. The struggle be- tween his desire to save her pain and his desire to be truthful to her made him wretched. " am not dull, surely!" he cried "That cannot be, Dolores." piness too bright to last. A supersti- tious chill came over him as he look- ed at the letter. He would not tell Dolores What was in it. But she saw that he looked pale and agitated. "No, my darling-indeed I have no news at all," he replied. "Show me that letter you have in your hand," she said. "You have had news, Karl?" she said suddenly, T Then her anxiety left her. It could only be a. letter from one of the ten- ants who wanted something done. The Squire looked up in wonder at the change in his daughter's voice. Sir Karl was at a loss for a few mo- ments. He knew that if he did show the letter to Dolores, it would make her miserable; she would imagine all kinds of horrors, and perhaps their happiness would be destroyed. If he refused she might be vexed, and think he was keeping a secret from her. He compromised the matter by thrust- ing the letter into the depths of his pocket, and saying to her that he would show it to her later on. "Is it anything important," asked. "Oh, no," he at1swtertd-"only tle favor asked by a neighbor!” a, lit- she "James can go with pleasure," said Sir Karl, with a look of relief-- a look not untagged by the Squire. But a. vague belief that his beloved child would be better and safer at home came to the Squire. "Can I drive anywhere with you?" asked the Squire, his heart sinking more and more with the sense of com- ing evil. "This is the first time you have been unable to drive papa home," ob- serbed Dolores. "How strange! Shall I drive you, papa?" "No, my darling. If you can spare James, I will take him." come only from physical pain; but he laughed at Dolore’s forebodings of trotfta1e. The baronet flushed all over his handsome tace-not a taint flush, but a hot, burning color, which deepened when he saw his wife and her father looking at him with wondering eyes. "Why, Karl," laughed Dolores, "you are blushing like a girl! And what a beautiful blush! I wish I could look like that'." He detested the bare idea of it as he uttered the words. "All happy wives have those tears," he said. "There is nothing wrong; only Karl is not well." “Are you going to drive me home, Karl '?" asked the Squire when the des- sert was placed on the table. But the Squire's heart sunk within him. "There was something wrong," he thought. Ah, surely a time of sor- row and trouble had not begun tor his child! V "I am so very sorry," said Sir Karl, "I really cannot go. I have to see gome .9119 this evening on business, and I must keep my appointment." 137 It will be greatly to the advantage of Canada if the entire quota of 100,000 men to be raised under the Military Service Act can be secured from the first class; that is, from the men between the ages of 20 and 34 who were unmarried or widowers without children on July 6th, 1917. This is almost self-evident for the following reasons: ' it is admitted that, between the ages of 20 and 34, the average man is at the height of his physical strength and is most adaptable to the change of conditions from civilian life; the military service of unmarried men and widowers without children would occasion less distress than that of most others, since they are largely without dependents. Also, it would entail less financial burden for Canada, through separation allowances, etc. Authorities estimate that, after all proper exemptions have been allowed. Canada should be able to produce from the first class 100,000 men fit for service, so the drain upon the man power of the country will not be severe. . , Members of Class One will be well advised to present themselves for’examination immediately to the Medical Board in their district. Upon examination as to their physical fitness, they will be placed in one of the following categories: Category A-if fit for service in overseas fighting units. q Category B--if fit for service overseas in Army Medical Corps, Forestry Battalion, etc. Catagory C-if fit for service in Canada only. Category E-if unfit for military service of any nature. " If not placed in Category A, the applicant will know that he is not liable tor immediate service, but will go to the Post Office and send in a claim for exemption with his Medical Certificate attached, when he will re- ceive in due course a certificate of exemption until those in his medical category are summoned for service. Where a mam who is placed in category A, feels that exemption shohld- be allowed, an application form can be secured from the postmaster. This form, when filled in, will be forwarded by the postmaster to the registrar of the district, and the applicant will be informed by mail as to the time anchplace for the consideration of his application by the Exemption Board. Issued by The Military Service Council. Will Class One Provide The One Hundred Thousand Men? if! So it was arranged. The Squire, at- ter bidding a. loving good-night to his daughter and her children, drove off with James Ashford, the groom, in the pony carriage. No warning came to them that this was their last meeting on earth, that a. terrible cloud was hanging over the household, and that the sweet, bright look on the face of Dolores would be seen there never again. They stood together, Sir Karl and Dolores, little dreaming of what that night would bring forth, watching the car- riage and waving adieus to the Squire until he was out of sight. Then Lady Allanmore said gently to her husband: "I am sorry I must leave you, Do- 1ores," he said. "It is very annoy- f'Yes, I am sure he will," said Dolores, smiling. "You are always so good to him, Karl. If I loved you for nothing else in this world, I must love you for your con§tant kindness to my father." He longed to remain with her; it was so pleasant out in the sun- shine, with the one being he loved so dearly by his side. Dolores wore the dress that was his "favorite-a, pale violet silk, with a superb suite of pearls. She never even looked at that dress again after that even- Ing. i _ "I am not going straight home,' he said. "I shall go round by Deep ing." "I hope papa is not disappointed. He likes to have you drive him, Karl." “And it pleases me to do so," re- joined the baronet. "It is as great a disappointment to me as it is to him. But it will not happen again. I am sure htr-tvill forgive me this time." CANADA ing to have our pleasant evening spoil- ed in this way." _ She looked up at him. “Where are you going, Karl? It is so unusual for you to have business interviews in the evening." "I will tell you all about it, my darling, when I return," and to his morbidly excited fancy the rustling leaves seemed to repeat the words, "when I return.” "At least," said Dolores," tell me where you are going, Karl." _ "It is not only unusual, but it 'is awfully disagreeable," he replied. “I will take good care that it never hap- pens again." “Tell me what it is all about," she said. "You know everything of in- terest to you is of equal interest to me." Again the summer breeze stirred the leaves, and they seemed to repeat the words "when I come home." "I shall sit up for you,'" continued Doiores. "You will not be late?" t He‘looked ‘at his watch, and, as he held it in his hand, the sunlight flash- ed upon the ruby ring and the white rose, Dolores bent and kissed it. "I cannot; I will tell you all about it when I come home." “How I love white roses," she ex- claimed. "And, oh, Karl, how your ring shines in the sun! It' dazzles my eyes." "I must go," said Sir Karl, hastily, -"l shall be late; but I am loath to leave you, Dolores. You seem sweet- er and dearer than ever. How many kisses will you give me?" "How many will you take?" she re- turned, laughingly. "Good-by, my sweet wife," he said, clasping her to his breast; “Infill To be continued g,