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•< I CONFUSION j :„„,.^ I I OF CASTE. I Lnt.„.5<.u,J SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING i CHAPTERS.â€" Mr. Trelawney, a I scholarly recluse, marries Letty, thej niece of Mrs. Uarkham, his house- 1 keeper. Tlieir child, Dorcas, becomes his boon companion and grows up in I ignorance of hor mother's history. ] CHAPTEU XVI. j He suddenly put her hand away â-  from him belore he began to speak ! again. He put his own hand up to his forehead, and leant upon it, and ; spoRe so, without looking at her. "I know you were never told that your mother was a poor girl before I married her," he began. "Perhaps it would have been better if you had known it â€" 1 think it would have been better; but we made a mistake, I suppose. I will tell you how it happened. Your mother came first to this house when she was almost a child â€" when she was only fifteen: she had been left an orphan, and she was far from strong, and by my leave Mrs. Markham brought her *iere that she might have a home and )e of what use in the house she :ouId Mrs. Markham was my ^housekeeper then. From the firstâ€" i-om my Krst acquaintance with her, I meattâ€" your mother had tastes ».bove her class. She was fond of eadiug. and after a time the idea Ji-as started that she should qualify tei-sclf to become a school teacher, ind for a year or so â€" I forgot for low longâ€" she studied with a view '.o that. This Tas when she was ibout seventeen." Mr. Trelawney paused here for a few moments. The part of his story that had to come ne.xt was the part that was the hardeS't to tell. "I never had a thought of marry- ing hiT, Dorcas!" he went on after Uiat silente, abruptly, and almost passionately. "How it came about Kras by no fault either of hers or mine. It all came out of that mis- erable village gossip. I had taken in interest in lier, and they began to blame her for it â€" and I could not let her suffer. Thu.t was whole. Dor- cas. I could only keep them from Bpeaking ill of her by making her my wife. She was not to blame, nor was Mrs. Mai,u:ham to blame I icted against Mrs. Markham's ad- rice. No purer-minded or more in- aocent-hearted woman than your mother ever lived. I have no right â€"I have no right even now (when it Js a terrible thing to me to have to fit here and try to justify myself to you) to utter ouc regret for the step Ihat I thought myself obliged to take. Poor as she was. and unedu- cated as she is, in all the years that we have lived together I have never ind one moment's true cause to bo ishamed of her. Nor have you, Dorcas â€" nor have you!" ho added vlmost f'iercely;and then suddenly ;losed his lips. The silence lasted for a little while, md then it was broken suddenly by Ihe girl's low voice. "Papa!" she said beseechingly. The little ha.v.i of its own accord \b.A stolen again to bis: all at once. Kith a tremor and a sob. she laid her cheek down on his shoulder. "Papa, forgive me! I will never mind it any more." she began to say. "Oh. I might have known â€" I might have known you would never do anything but what was right! It was only that I could not soo it â€" C could not understand it: that was all. Oh, you were good and right: you were my own father! â€" you could not have done anything else." she cried, and thrilled and sobbed in her sudden revulsion of fooling, and kissed his lips, his cheeks, his hands. In a generous passion pf rcmurse. He drew her to him and returned her kisses, and blessed her. What would his lite have been worth if this girl had turned her heart awaj- from liim? And, meantime, while they were so happy with one another, Lotty was sittiiig by herself, anxious and ex- pectant: "but I am afraid for a good while they neither of them thought of that, and even when Mr. Trelaw- ney remembered it at last, and told the girl to go to hor mother, Dorcas lingered, and did not want to go. "Need I say anything to manmia?" she asked, reluctantly. "Oh. sure- ly I need not. I dob't know what to Say." And it was only when he pressed her that she obeyed him. "It would not do to say nothing to her. She has been very unhappy about you,", he told her. And so then, at lastâ€" but still unwillinglyâ€" she went. She found her mother sitting at her work. It had got dark, and Letty had lighted her candles. She looked up when Dorcas came into the room with eyes ^wposc long wait- ing had made rather hopeless i»nd weary, and only smiled a little faint- ly when the girl came to her side and kissed her cheek. ! "Mother, I have been very cross I this week, andâ€" I have been vexing i you, I know," Dorcas said, rather I suddenly and quickly. "I have been 1 very badâ€" but I want you to for- I give me, please. I have been talk- 1 ing it all over with papa, and â€" and I â€" he has made everything right," she j ended, shortly and hastily. j She bent down over the gentle j face, and kissed it again: andâ€" what i could Letty say? Perhaps as she sat alone she had been trying to re- hearse some words to speak to her daughter, but they died on her lips as Dorcas made her rapid little speech, and gave her swift caress. Between these two, you see, there had always been so little confidence, and they were shy of one another. Dorcas has made it all right with her father; that, it seemed, was all she had to say to Letty, and the mother's timid heart shrank as the few cold words came. "My dear, I thought that I should like to speak to you. Iâ€" I have been very unhappy," was all she was able to say. "Yes. I know; but don't mind it now, mother," the girl said again, quickly. "I know it is all right, and I had no business to be troubled. I understand it all now â€" quite," she said, and took her mother's hand for a moment, and pressed it, and then turned away. As she went she felt that she ought to have said some- thing more, and yet she did not know what she could have said. There was some inborn, invincible stubbornness in her: the very con- sciousness that she sought to have been tenderer kept her tenderness back. She took up a book, and sat be- side her mother reading it almost i;i silence for an hour, and then her fa- ther joined them, and they talked for a little, and presently the clock struck eleven and she went to bed. She was tired, and not quite satis- fied with herself. She had been so happy for part of the evening. but the young face was rather sad now, and she sighed, she scarcely knew why, as she laid her head upon her pillow. Sometimes, when she was half or quite asleep, it was still Letty 's ha- bit, as it had been when she was a little child, to come into Dorcas's room and look at her. and to-night she came before the girl's eyes were almost closed. She opened the door softly and came to the bedside, and stood still for a moment or two, and then went down on her knees. "My dear, I want another ki'-s from you," she said, with wistful tenderness. "Oh. Dorcas," she cried suddenly, "one "sind kiss to help me to go to sloop!" She put her arms about the girl, and bent down over her. and thou â€" though she had asked for the kiss, she did not put her lips to Dorcas's, but all at ouce-7 "Oh! my darling, can you not for^ give me?" she began to cry out bit- terly. "You wouldn'^ spetvk to me down stairs â€" but, oh, speak to me now. Do not think I did so wrong? I Was so young, Dorcas, and I didn't know â€" arid he was all the world to me. Dorcas, I didn't know!" she repeated piteously. "When I found out that I had done hium to him it almost broke my heart. Won't you believe me, my dear? Won't you be- lieve me, and forgive me for what I did?" "I do believe you, mamma â€" of course I do beWfve," Dorcas cried in distress. • "It is such a long time ago, and I have sutTercd so. I would have died for him, you knoiv, and instead of that I did harm to him, and when it was once done I could never undo it. I used to wish that I could die, Dor- cas: that would have been the only thingâ€" but>I couldn't die. And then you came, my deal' â€" and, oh. Dorcas, from the time you were a little baby in my arms I have been thinking of this day, and of how they would tell you what I had beenâ€" and you would be ashajned." "Mother, I am not ashamed!" the girl cried in great agitation. She raised herself in bed. and put her arms about poor Letty's neck. It was not love for her that she felt like the love she had for her father, but a great wave of remorse and tenderness and pity bad risen in her heart, and overwhelmed and con- quered her. "Mother, I have been very hard to you. Forgive me for it. I will never be ashamed of you â€" I will nev- i er be ashamed of you!" she began to murmur, and kissed the poor weary face with many a kiss. "You have been the kindnest mother to me â€" the kindest, gentlest mother," she said; and then her voice broke, and she began to sob. The hour began In pain, and yet it was a blessed hour to Letty, as she sat. after a little while, by Dorcas's side, holding her hand in hers. They talked a little more: in the quiet and the darkness Letty found courage to say some things that had been for a long time in her heart. She told the girl, who had hitherto known or guessed so little, something of what her life had beenâ€" ot its brief joy and its long sadness â€" of its hopes that had died in disappointment. More than once Dorcas drew down her mother's face to hers: she was touched unspeakably as she listened to her gentle, uncomplaining words. How little had she ever deserved this patient devotion! How little had she ever returned or cared for it! She said a few words, but there were stronger words in her heart than any that she spoke. So it turned out in the end that, instead of evil, it was only good that came of this discovery which Dorcas had made, and that these two were drawn closer together by the thing that Letty had feared so long would separate them. Nay. , were they not even all three drawn I more together? Mr. Trelawney, too. I had been touched with pity for i Letty: the call that had been made upon his loyalty to her had roused something more than loyalty in his breast. On this night, after she had been with Dorcas, he spoke a few strong grateful words to her. "I often seem to be forgetful of you. Letty â€" I often seem to neglect j you." he said. "but. if you could see my heart, you would know that I do . you justice. If you have ever thought that I regret oi:r marriage ! you have been wholly wrong. I do \ not regret it; instead of that, I i thank God for it. for naver did any ] man in this world have a kinder, or i more devoted, or more unselfish 1 wife." 1 And then he took her in his arms i with a close and warm embrace â€" I need I say that she was a happy wo- j man? It seemed to her this night i that the burden of years, had fallen j away from hor, and left her young ; again. I Nor did her joy pa.ss wholly from I her even as time went on. It is , true that in her husband's manner i towards her there came little visible ' change: a few more sentences spoken to her now and then, perhaps â€" some tritle of additional kindness shown 1 her occasionally â€" these wore the only : signs he gave of any increased con- sideration for her: but when she had I the remembrance of those words of I his to live on. might she not well ho j content? she often asked herself. ' They seosnod such sweet and blessed began to approach her with a new feeling â€" to think of her with some- thing kinder and better than her former careless, half condescending regard. Some of the words Letty had spoken on that night when her poor loving heart bod revealed itself for a little while to her daughter, haunted the girl's thoughts after- wards, and lilled her with a keen and painful pity. How little had she ever thought of her! How little had she ever understood or cared to understand her. Perhaps during the next year Dor- cas became a little more grave and thoughtful and reserved than she had been before: she drew a little more within herself: she was not quite so happy as she had been; the innocent girlish ayes had been opened to something that they had not known before. She grew a Utile proud, a little shy; the old frank manner changed a good deal for a time. Had she not eaten of the fruit of the tree of Imowledge. and found it bit- ter in her mouth? She shrank tor a while from her old friends; she be- came suspicious, ami thought that they looked down on her. She had to boar her little wound, and smart under it. before any wholesome heal- ing came. But. if she sufTered for a time, she was too young and healthy to sutler long. The truth was so â€" as she had learnt it: yet all the saane did not the sun still shine above her head as it had done six montlis ago. and the breezes blow so softly on her? The young life stirred in her too joyous- ly and strongly for any merely s»;n- timental trouble to curb it long. The world, to her, had seemed her ene- my for a little while, and she had been ready to ride full tilt against it, lance in hand; but now. if she did not quite throw her lance aside, at least she laid it in rest: she un- buckled her armor: she gradually be- gan to cease to see imaginary foes. She was a creature so much more made for happiness than for Wiufare that, gradually and inevitably, her nature in time righted itself again. (To be Continued.) * SEEING THE BENEFIT. the any Piles To prove to yon jthak Pr. Chases Ointment ia a certain and at>«oliito cure for each ami every form of itohinif. bleedinRand rrotrudine piles, <ao manafactarerM have Kn*mnte«i it. Seotes' :iraonials in the daily press and ask vonr iieinh- lore whatthey think ofit. You ciuiuse it and ^it your money bac-k if not cured. BOc a boN at ill dealers or H^dma.nson.Batks & Co, Toronto, Or, Chase's Ointment words to lier â€" guerdon and reward enough for all her years of love and soivico. And was not Dorcas kinder to her? The girl was touched by removso. and by something gentler and tenderer than i-emorse. Was it not indeed Irtie that she had boon ashamed of her mother, and was she not wicked because she had been ashamed? She How Merchants May Obtain Confidence oi the Public. Good advertising will benefit legitimate bu:^iness, but it is neces- sary that the goods should be right and the aii\ertisemouts be of the right character to get the coutideuca of the buying public and to insure good results to the business man. The small or run-down business is easiest benefited by good advertise- ments. There is a larger lield on which to woi^, a greater chance of reaching those who are not or haive not been interested in the store in tiuestion. A good advertisement calls attention to the weak and struggling business. The ready re- sponse of a few btiyers will be im- mediately felt. The results will soon bo soon on the whole busine.ss. After the volume of business has grown somewhat the same two aiilvertise- mouts need not be expected to pro- ctice a« large results in proportion. The larg-er the busiiness the lefs wouhd be the proportionate increase in the business becAuse of that ad- vertisement. The large fitere, where business has b«??tt booming for some time might have an increase of a few customers and would not feel it ^ at all. The large volume would make it diiKcult to get the same proportion oi gain. But the ad\er- tising is just as necessary to keep up the business a.'! it was to build the business originally. The man who has reached the top of the Iuc5der of possibilities is just as u'e- poiKlent on the ladder to keep him thoro us when ho was climbing, and if he grows heavier all the time it is tK>ce!--snry to see that his ladder is strengthened. A child can live on UATURE'S BLB:SIIG IS FOUND r» HEALTH, STRENGTH AND FSEEDOM FEOM PAIN. This Gift is Meant for Allâ€" On It the Happiness and Usefulness ot Life Depend â€" Iwitliout it loia is an Existence Sard to Endtire. Health is nature's choicest gift to man and should be carefully guard- ed. Ill health is a sure sign that the blood is either in.si«fficient, wa- tery or impure, for must of the dis- eases that afflict maiU^ind are trace- able to this cause. Every organ ol the body ret^uires rich, red blood to enable it to properly £>erfonu its life-siistaining functions, and at iht lirst intimation that nature eivea tiiat all is not welt, the blood siAuld be cared for. Purgative~medicinea will not do this â€" it is a tonic that i.s needed, and Dr. Williams* Fink i'lUs have been proved, the world over, to surpa.ss all other medicines in their tonic, strengthening, and health-renewing qualities. From on« end of the land to the other will be found grateful people who cheerfully acknowledge that they owe their good health to this great medicine. .A.mong these is Mr. Elzear V.obi- doux. a prominent young man living at St. Jerome. Que. He says :â€" "For son[ie years I was a great suJTerer from dyspepsia. My appetita be-ame irregular and everything 1 ate felt like a weight on my stomach. I tried several remedies and wjls under the care of doctors but to no avail and I grew worse as time went on. I became very weak, grew thin, suffered much from pains in my stomach and was frequently seiz- ed with dizziness. One day a friend told me of the case of a young giri who had su tiered greatly from thi! trouble, but who. through the us« of Dr. Williams' Pink Pills ha* fuUj regained her health and strength and strongly ad^•i^ed me to trj these pills. I was so eager to fin« a cure that I acted on his advice and procured a supply. From th« very first my condition improvec and after using the pills for i couple of months I w^as fully re j-tored to health, after having beei a constant sufferer for four yeart It is now over a year since I use* the pills and in that time I havi enjoyed the best of hoalfh. This owe to that greatest of all medi- cines. Dr. Williams' Pink Pills, am I shall always have a good word tt say on their behalf." Through their artlon on the bloot and nerves, these pills cure such dis eases as rheumatism, sciatica, St Vitus' dance, indigestion, kidnej trouble, partial paralysis, etc. Bi siu-e that you get the genuine will the full name "Dr. Williams' Pin! Pills tor Pale People" on every bo.-c If your dealer does not keea then: they will be sent post-paid ai 5< cents a box or six boxes for $2.54 by acidressiug the Dr. WilUama Medicine Co.. Brockville, Ont. Im] IN ST. PIERRE. ins of a Visitor Befon Recent Cataclysm, iorre was one of the mosi Pi*^Bi^ue little cities in the world 1 <Wnt a few houis there ontv a«n siiall t!e\Br forget the gay appear ance it presented," says Cupt. Johi A. Hass«>U. 'The women of St Pierre dressed more gayly ihau ii any other purt of the world 1 evea visited. They wore many colors and, strangely enough, combiae* tbem quite harmoniously. There was practically no harboi ,, at St. Pierre. ivnd the ships au' a v^ry small amount ol food. but ] ohored a short distance out at s-ea the f (turo of that child" depends on the wholesomencss of what is eaten. As the child grows larger a "{rroater amount of food is iiccossiiry. .â- Vt the fullness of growth food is still ne- cessary to keep the individual well and strong. It is so with advertise ing. After the business has reached a certain point of development it may not grow more, but it reqiuiiv.* ciontiuuej advertising to keep the business a» strong as it has teen. Obstinate Case of Itching Eczema Leg and Foot a Mass of Sores that Doctors Could Not Healâ€" A Thorough end Lastinff Cure by Dr. Chase's Ointment. This letter from Tilsonburg, Ont.. Is an unsolicited tostimonial to the extraordinary healing powers ot Dr Chase's Ointment. Thia is ono more example of how tliis great ointment cures when all other m«au» have failed. There is sometliing almost magical about the way the preparation heals and cures. People who have not used it can scarcely understand how it Can be so efi'octivc. Mr W D Johnson, Tilsonburg. Ont., writes : â€" "Hy father has been entirely cured ot a lo.ig^standing ami olistinato case of eczema bv the use of Dr. Chase's Ointment. Uis leg and foot were a mass of sores, and ho suttorcd something terrible from the stinging and itching. Though be used u great many remedies and was treated by one of the best doctors here. h« could get no pcimaucnt rolicf until ho began the use of Dr. Chase's Ointment. ,â-  .. ^ ux â- - . .. â- .. "Thl» prei>arfttion was so cooling and soothingc that the very t.rst application brought relief, and It wa» not long until the log and foot wore perfectly henlcd and cured. It is a pleasure for him to recommei«l this ointment because of the great benefit he deH\T>d from it, and he wilt gladly answer any questions from othe* Dr. Chase's (nntment ia useful In a score of ways. For every irritation or eruption of the (*in it alTord* prompt relief It b.oals and .sooihos v ounds, scalds and burn-^, and has never been etiunlled as a eure for e»- lem*. salt rheum, tetter and scftld bead. Sixty coats a box at all driers or EUiaanson. Pates * Co., Teroate, BABY'S OWN TABLETS. The Best Medicine in the World for Children of All Ages. I'aby's Own Tablets are good for L-hildron of all ages from the tiniest, weakest baby to the well grown child, and are a certain cure for indigestion, sour stomach, colic, constipation, diarrhoea. tcethiin5 troubles and the other minor ait- mouts of children. There is no other medicine acts so a^cetlily, so Sijfely and so surely and they coth tain not one particle of the opi- .vtes found in the so-called "sooth- ing" medicines. Mrs. K. il. Ness. iJarrio, Ont.. says :â€" "1 first Scgaii j us-ing Baby's Own Tablets when my ] l.iiby was teething. He was fever- I 'sh, sleepless and \ery cro.-is. and 1 siilVeretl from indigestion. Aftir â- .isiug the Tablets he began to get j better almost at once, and slojit ! better and was no lonj-cr cro-xs. 1 think the Tablets a tine me-dicine for children and kee^ them ou hand all the time." The Tab!-.>ts are readily t;\ken by all children, and crutJied to a powder can be given to the very youngest baby with a cer- tainty ot benefit Sold bv all drug- gists or sent postpaid at 25 cents a bo.x by writing c'iroct to Dr. Wil- liams' Medicine Co.. BrocWville, Out., or Schen..>ctadj-, N.V. As soon as our vessel came withii hailing distance of St. I'ierre a num ber of small boats .sot out iron shore. They were lilied with womei dressed m gaudy colors and carry ing fruits, which they otTored to tin passettgors. I i-enteciber that man: of the women had cocoanuta frou which the ends had been removed I'art of the miik had been poui-e< from the fruit and replaced by ruin, Cocoanuts prepared in that way an <iuite delicious and in great uemanfl with travellers. "Few of the people of St. Pierr« were pure black. The negroes whc woi-e originally in the islaiut. th« Malays who were brought there tc s>ei-ve as slaves, and the French and other white people who located thert intcrmaj-ri-s^d so freely that most ol the inhabitants showed only a trace of the negro blood. The women were quite dark. but had good features, and many of them wore ciuito hani}- sou\c. Their clothing was very un- usual. On thHr heads thoy' wor« swarfs of bright colors and theii Kowns were very fantastic. Al! through iho city there seemed to be an air of gaycty and abandon. "St. Pien-e was located iu a small iwdenttire in rJio shoi-e line and its houses wore qu'^r atTiiirs which seeuiod like a lot of iancy blocks piled up agairst the side of lh« uiouutain. Many of the bouses were whitewashed or painted some vcri light color. They were all short buildings of quaint French yrchitco tui-e. Nobody worketl in St. Pierre any more than Wiis nece.^Sf.ry. Thoi« wei-c music and dancing everywhere ami the innnorality of the city wit: probably loud n:any people to sug- gest that judgment ha» boon bi-oughf down upon the ill-fated citv." ♦ 102.0!^0 Kuropeuns f^rm 1,SCOOO« I acres of Algic.^.