The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

DARE HE? OR, A SAD LIFE STORY (.HAFIEU XXVII.â€" .Conlinued). As lie receives no answer, he repeats the exhortation more iraperulively, "Come." "Why should I come? Where should I come to ?" says the young nis«, lilUng his heud. "where can I tind such plaiii traces of her as lierc? 1 will stay." He says this with an air of resolution, and once more lays down his face upon lh.> footstool, which, being entirely worked in beads, has impressed the clieek thi-ust against il with a design in email hollows, a fad of winch the suf- ierer is quite unaware. "You cannot stay 1" cries Bui-goyne, Iho more impatiently (hat his own share ef anxiety is fretting his temper almost past endurance; "you cannot stay, it is «ut. of the question ; they want to come Inio the rooms, to prepare them for new occupants." "New occupants I" repea's Byng. liirn- Ung over almost on his face, and llatten- fciK his nose and lips against the beaded •urface of his stool, "^ther occupants than her. Never ! never '" It is to be placed to the credit si"de of Ml'. Buigoyne's account that he doos not, upon this d«;claration, willidruw tlie resting-place from his young friend's countenance and break it over his head. It is certainly not the temptation to do BO that is lacking. Instead, he sits down «t some distance off, and says quietly. "1 see, you will force them to call in the police. You will make a discreditable esclandre. Mow good tor her ; how con- ducive to her good name. 1 congratu- late you !" The other has lifted his head in a vnonient. "What dff you mean?" "Do you think," asks Jim. indignant- ly, "that it is ever very advantageous to n woman to have her name mixed up in a vulgar row ? .\nd do you .suppose that hers will be kept out of it? Come"â€" 6eeing a look of shocked consternation breaking over the young man's face, and determining to strike while the iron is h<d â€" "I will call a tiacre, and we will go faonie to the hotel. Put back lior things into her basket. What right have you to meddle with them? You have no business to take advantage of her ab- ernce to do what you would not do if â- he were here." Byng obeys with a scared docihty ; his eyes are so dim, and his fingers tremble so much, that Jim has to help him in re- placing lilizabcth's small pixaperties. His o\\ n heart is pricked with a cruel smart that has uo reference to .'\m«'lia's illnes.s, as he handles the departed girl's sixwls and skeins, and awkwardly folds her scrap of broidery. Byng offers no fur- ther resistance, and, equally indifferent t3 his own bungcd-up eyes, bead-marked cheeks, and disheveled locks, follows his Companion dully, down the slono stairs, conipassionut*?ly watched from the lop by Annimziata, whose heart is an incon- veniently tend'Cr one to be n\atched with eo tough a face. They get into tlw fiacre, »nd drive in dead silence to the Minerva. Arrived there, Jim pei-suades his friend, who now seems prepared to acquiesce meekly in whatever he is told to do, to lii down on his betl, since the few words that he utters convey the (act of his be- ing suffering from a burning headache, a phenomenon not very surprising, con- Bidering his late briny exercises, since, even at the superb ag» of twenty-two, it is dillicult to sp<'nd six hours in bang- ing your forehead against a panjuel IVior, in moaning, bellowing, and weep- ing, without leavijig some traces of these gjrnna.slics on your physique. Uurgoyne stands or sits patiently be- side him. bathing Ids fiery temples with eau do Cologne, ivot teasing {lim with any questions, having, indeed, on his cwn part, the least possible desire for conversation ; and so the heavy hours fio by. The day has declined to evening before Burgoyne quits his protege's side to dine, shortly and solitarily, pix^vious t«) nuiking a third visit lo the Anglo- Amcricain. to learn the latest news of his betrothed. He had left Byng slill stretched upon his bed, apparently asleep, and is there- - fore ttie more surprised, on returning to lake a linal look at him before sotting out on his own errand, lo find tiim up, with hat and slick in hand, evidently ctrepared for a walk. "You are going out?" "Yes." "Where ere you going?" The oilier hesitates. "I am going back there." ' "Impossible 1" "But I am," replies Byng doggedly ; "it will not do her any injury, for 1 shall rot attempt to go in, I shall only ask at iho ikKir whether any telegram has yet been received fi'oniâ€" from them ; Ihoy must telegraph to diivct w "icre their things are to l)e sent lo, and il is most probohlo that they have done so al- ready." ' "It is most improbable." "Well, at all events il is possible, it is Wiirih trying, and 1 monn to Iry il." There i.s such a flxeil resolution in his \,.ice, which Is no longer quavering With sobs, and in his ashy face, that Jim Offers no furllier rt«islniice. The only •onoession he can obtain from him Is that of permitting him lo accompany him. "You will not mind coming with me to tlio Angkj-.\n!ericain first, will you 7" inquires Jim, as they set off walking across the Piazza. "It will delay us quite half an hour," answers the other restlessly. "But stay" (a hazy look of reminiscence dawning over his preoccupied haggard face), "did you tell me that AmeUa was illâ€" or did I dream it'?" "No, you did not dream it," replies Ihe other, sadly. "She is ill." Pertinps the wretchedness that pierces through his friend's quiet tones recalls Iho young dreamer to Ihe fact that the world holds other' miseries than his own. There is at all events something of his old quirk sympathy in his next words, and in the way in which they are ut- tered. "Oh, poor Amelia, I am sorry ! By all means let us go at once and ask after her. Is there nothing Ihal we can get? â€" nothing tlMit we can do for her?'' II is the question that Jim, in baffled an.xiety, puts when he is admitled inside the dull salon, where no love-glorified, homely face to-night lights up Ihe lender candles of its glad eyes, from over its stitthing, at liis entry. .Sybilla is lying less comfortably than usual on her sofa, her cushions not pUnnpcd up, and her bottles of .smelling- salts rolled out of her reach. .\lr. Wil- son is walking uneasily up and "down Ihe room, instead of silting placidly in his chair, with the soothing voiceâ€" which h-; had always thought as much to be counted on, and as little to be particu- larly thankful for. as the air that fills lii;; lungs â€" lullingly reading him lo sleep. "Cecilia is with her just now," he says, in a voice of forlorn irritation. "I wish she would come down again ; 1 hare no gi-eal opinion of Cecilia as a sicK-nui"se, and she must know how anxious we are." A moment later, still pursuing his fidgclly i-amble from wall to wall, and exclaiming peevishly, as he stumbles over a footstool, "If it would only de- clare itself ! '1 iiero seems to be nothing to lay hold of, we are so completely in th<» darkâ€" if it would only declare itself !" A not very subdued sob fi-om the sofa is the only answer he gels, an answer which evidently irri'ates slill further his fretted nerves. "I cannot think what Cecilia is doing 1" h-j cries, hastening lo the door, opening il noisily, and then listening. "Let me run up and see," says Jim. liis heart going out to the fractious old man in a sympathy of suffering. "Yes, 1 know where her room isâ€" au troisieuie, is it not?" (a Hash of recollection lighting U[i the fact that .\melia's is distinctly the worst room of the suite occupied by the Wilson family ; the room with most stairs lo climb to, and least accommoda- tion when you reach il). "I will knock quite gently. Do not be afraid, I will not disturb her, and I will come down inunedialely to tell you.'' Without waiting for permission, he springs up the stairs, and, standing on the landing, laps cautiously on Ihe closed door, whose number (by one of those qtiirks of memory that furnish all our minds with insignificant facts) he has recollected. His first knock Is so suijerfluously soft that It is evidently in- audible within, since no result follows ui^ui it. His second, a shade louder, though still muflled by the fear of break- ing into some little fitful yet salutary sleep, brings Cecilia out. His firet glance at her face shows him that she has no good news, either to warm his own heart, or for him to carry down as a solace lo Ihe poor old man below. "Oh, il is you, is it?" says she. shut- ting the door behind her with a clumsy carefulness that makes it creak. "No, 1 d'.. not think she is any belter ; but It is so dillicult lo tell, 1 am no Judge. She does not complain of anything parlicu- la.- ; but slie looks so odd." "If she is asleep, might not 1 just look iTi at her?" he asks. "I do not know what you mean when you say she looks Olid." "She is not asleep," replies Cecilia, in a noisy whisper, much more likely to pierce sick cars than a voice pitched in its normal key ; "at lea.sl I think not. But 1 am sure you ought not lo see her ; Dr. Coldslivam said she wius to be kept very quiet, and nothing would upset her sti much us seeing you.' "She need nol see me; I would only luko jusl one look at her from behind the door," per.sisls Jim, who feels a desire, whose gnawing intensity surprises him- self, lo be assuretl by the I'vulence of his own eyes that his poor love's face has not undergone some strange and grue- some change, such as is suggested by Cecilia's disquieting epithet ?" "Do you think she would not know you were there '?" asks cho sc^u-ntully. "Why, she hears your step three streets off 1" CHAPTi:!) XXVIH. i^o that night Jim does not see Amelia. .\fter all, us Cecilia says, it is heller to hi' on the safe side, and to-morrow she will be brighter, and lie can sit by her side, and tell her lovinglyâ€" oh very lovingly l-^what a fright she has given him. Ye^, tomorrow she will be bright- ei-. The adjective is Cecilia's ; but, ap- parently, he caiujot improve upon it, fc he nol only keeps repeating it lo him- self as he runs downstairs, but employs It for the reassurance of Miss Wilson's anxious relatives. "She will be brighter lo-morrow ; sick people are always worse at night, are not they ?"â€" rather vaguely, with again that oppressive sense cf his own inex- perience in illness. "Not that she is worse" â€" this if hastily sujboined, as he sees her father's face fall- "Cecilia never said she was worse â€" oh, no, not woi-se, only not distinctly better ; and, after all, i it would have been irrational to expect thai. She will be brighter to-morrowâ€" oh, yes, of course she will be brighter to- morrow !" He leaves the hotel with the phrase, which sounds cut and dried and unreal, still upon his hps, after bidding a kinder good-night than usual to .Mr. Wilson, afler having offered to supply .Amelia's place by reading aloud lo him. a feat he has not performed since the evening of ! his disiislrous experience of the Provi- â-  dent Women of O.\ford ; and lastly, hav- 1 ing evenâ€" as a reward lo Sybilla, who ! has been understood to murmur some- thing tearful about letting her maid look in upon .Amelia at intervals through the nightâ€" tucked in her Australian blanket, and picked up her sraelling-boltle. He ha.'- expected lo rejoin Byng outside, as ho had promised to wait for him with such patience as a cigar could lend, and on the condition that his absence should not exceed a stipulated period. But either the promise has been broken, or tnc period exceeded, for Byng is gone. The fact does not greatly surprise Bur- goyne, tliough it causes him a sUghl un- easiness, which is, perhaps, rather a blessing for him, distracting his mind in some slight measure from the heaviness of his own trouble. He walks fast to the Piazza d'Azeglio; lu! he neither overtakes him of whom he is in pursuit, nor finds him at 12 Bis. Hi has been there, has inquired with agitation for the telegrams, which have naturally not been received, and has U)en gone away again immediately. Whither? The Padnina, who has an- swered the door-bell herself, and, with Italian suavity, is doing her best to con- ceal Ihal she is beginning to think she lias heard nearly enough of I lie subject, dees not know. For a few moments Jim stands irresolute, then he turns his steps towards the .\rno. It is not yet too late for the charming riverside promenade, the gay Lung Arno, lo be slill alive with tianeurs : Ihe stars have lit their lamps above, and Ihe hotels below. The pale planets, and the yellow lights from the opposite bank of the river, lie together, sweel and peaceful upon her breast, fn both cases the counterfeits are as clear and bright as the real luminarie.* ; and It seems as if one had only to plmige in an arm to pick up slai-s and candles oul cf the stream's depths. Leaning over the parapet near the Ponte Vecchio. Burgoyne soon discovers a familiar figure, a figure which starts when he touches its arm. "I thought I would wait about here for au hour or so," says Byng, with a ra- ther guilty air of apology, "until I could g'' back and inquire again. The tele- gram has nol arrived yetâ€" I suppose il is too early. Of course they would not tele- graph until they gel in to-night. You do not think "â€"with a look of almost t^-rror â€"that they are going through to Eng- land, and Ibat they will not telegraph t:i! they gel tlvere?' "How can I tell?" "There is nothing in the world less likely," cries Byng feverishly, in-ilaled at not having drawn forth the reassur- ance he had hoped for. "1 do nol for a moment believe that they have gone home ; I feel convinced that hey are still in Italy ! Why should they leave it when theyâ€" when she is so fond of it?" Jim looks down sadly at the calm, strong stream. "I do nol know, I cannot give an opin- ionâ€"I have no clue." "I will ask again in about an hour," says Byng, lifting his arras from the par- apet, "in an hour il is pretty certain to have arrived; and lueanwhile, 1 thought 1 would just stroll about the town, but there is no reason â€" none at allâ€" why I should keep you 1 Youâ€" you must be wanting to go back lo Amelia."" He glances at hiS frientl in a nervous, sidelong way, as he makes this sugges- tion. "I am nol going back again lo-night," replies Jim quietly, without giving any evidence of an intention to acquiesce in his disjnissal. "There is nothing f can dc for her â€" there is noltiing t^ be Ame." His tone, in making this statement, musl be yet more dreary than he is awai'O, as it arouses even Uyng's self- at'Sorbed attention. "Nothing lo be done for her?" he echoes, with a shocked look. "My dear old chap, you do nol mean to sayâ€" to im- ply " "I mean to imply nothing,"' rclums Jim sharply. In a su}>erstitiou* panic of hear- ing s<une unfavorable augury as lo his belixjihed put into words. "I mean just what I sayâ€" neither more nor less ; tliero is nothing lo be done for her to- night, nothing but to lei her sleepâ€" a good sleep will set her up : of course a good sleep wUI quile set her up." He speaks almost angrily, as if ex- pecting and ctiallenging conlradiclion. But Byngs spirit has already llown back to his own woes. He miiy make what s.Tiiguine statements he pleases about Amelia's to-morrow, without fearing any demurrer from his companion. What attention the laller has to spare is evi- dcnlly only directeil to the solving of Ihe problem, how best, with amicable civil- iiy. lo be rid of him. Htfoiv he can hit uioii any expedient for attaiuhig this desired end, Burgoyne speaks again. liis eye resting with a compassionate ex- pression upon his junior's face, wliose HOTEL TRAYMORE ON THE OCEAN FRONT. ATLANTIC CITY, N. J. A magnifineiit tan-icory flraproof additian U just baing eniaplettd. miking thia (amou boiMlrj the nawMt aad niajt ap-to-dat* of Atlantic Cit; UoMb. A uw faatur* ii tk* suaMal !^za of thtt b*d roonia, averaitiBg 10 feet squjtr«. Erer^ riom c:imiliand3 an ocean Tienr, balii attachail wicli s«a and fr«ib waUr. Charal- glaw in »f*rf oliambar. T%mg»riuan ra(ula(«d by Tharmoadadt. tha latatt dav«lopiaant la stauD baatlng. ftlepbon* in (Tar; room. Ualf pririlajai. Capaeit; Ma. Writ« torllltutr^tcd booklac CHARLE3 O. MARQUETTE, MaJMscr. TRAYMORE MOTEL COHPANY, D. S. WHITE, Prisjienl. THIS IS BICYCLE YEAR From three continents oome reports of the returning pop- ularity of the bicycle. And the inabilily of tha faolories lo cope with lh« larg« taicrease in orders. Our big factory has been running night and day tor months. .Making Cleveland, Massey Silver Ribtxui, Perfect, BranU lord, Ramblei' and Impenal bicycles. Last week we shipped over 1,200 bicyclM. We are still hard at il an<l can now ppomisa dalivery within 10 days of receipt of order. Write for haiulsema catalogue of your favorite bicycle and the name of your nearest agent. CANADA CYCLE AND MOTOR CO., LIMITED. MAKERS OF THE WO RLDS BEST BICYCLED. Toronto Junction, . Ontario, wild pallor is heightened by the disorder of his hair, and ttie hat crushed down over his brows. "You have not had anything lo eat all dayâ€" had not you b«lter come back lo the hotel and get something Ic eat V "Eat !" cries the other, with almost a scream, "you must have very httle com- prehension of ' Then, checking him- self, and with a strong and palpable ef- fort for composure â€" "it would not be worth while, I slwuld not have time, in an hourâ€" less than an hour now, for 1 musl have been here (luile ten minutes at the leastâ€" I have to return to the I'iazza d'.\zegIio.'' "Then go to Doney's: why not gel something to eat at IXmey's ? It will not take you the minutes to reach Uie Via Tomabuoni.' "What should I do when I got there?" asks Byng impalienlly. "If 1 tried to swallow food, it would slick in my throat ; no food shall pass my lips till I leai'ii wlieio she is ; after that "â€"break- ing oul into a noisy laughâ€" "you may do what you please wilh me â€" we will make a nigtit of it with all my heart, we willâ€" "'Drink, drink, TUl the pale slars blink 1 ' " Jim looks blankly at Mm. Is he going mad? "If you think that you will get me lo go back lo Hie liolcl tonight, you are v«ry niueU mislaken," continues Byng reck- lessly ; "no wol less high than liiis"â€" jerking back his head, to throw his fevered kxik up lo the oool slarsâ€" "shall shelter my head ; and, besides, where would be the use of going lo bed when 1 should have lo tie up again so early ? I shall be off by one of the morning ex- presses ; until I have learntrâ€" as, of course. I shall do to-night â€" where she has gone, I cannol Wll which ; but nei- ther of them starts much later than seven. â- ' (To b< continued). ALTON HAS A TALE OF WOE TUIS PLl'CKY SCOT WILL TUV HIS Ll'CK AGAIN. He Lost StD.DM in YVyoniing. Rut Now lie Wilt LtKutc in Red Deer Dislrirl, Alberta. Fourteen years ago a young Scolch- mnn. Ceo. H. Alton by nome, decided lo leave his native country and Iry his lurk in Ihe Wt-slern Slates. In Alx-rdern tie had many piclures place«l before him of the glorious, fitv lite of Ihe \\<>slerri Stales, aiwl nftir iviiiling nil the likrii- tui-e available on llie o»>untry. he was seized with Ihe fever sc badly ihal he decided he would go oul and Iry his luck in Ihal great c<.iunlry where all one had It do w;is to ride around his land and see that Ihe wolves were nol destroying his cuttle. SPE.NT HIS $20,00(1 FORTUNE. The vision of himself decked oul in schaps, spui-s. and seveial very large weapons, was very pleasing, also th<» \ Islons of lighimg Indians was a great drawing cai-d lo him. His lather tried lo peisuade him against taking a rash bicp. counseling him lo go first and sea how he liked llie country, and if pleased wilh it to then invei^t his heritage amounting lu some $20,000. But the adN'ice of the father was nol taken, and the lad sailed away from Liverpnul with cnougli Imggnge lo have set several settlers of ihe present West- ern C'umida up in liout^keepmg : in thia biiggiige were braces, boot* for the next ttn years, clothes of all descriptions, and enough armRiiutil lo do Ihe C^ilgary l.Mh Light Horse. Fwni New York lie travelled west until he reached the Slate of Wyoming, and he then purchased a large piece of land about 40 miles from CheyeiMic, and spent llie balanc* of hia fortune in buying cattle. For n number of years he fluurished in the cattk; busiiiess. and at one lime had increased his fortune up to $40,0ilO. He then brought his two younger brothers out lo the ranch, and all w\>re as happy as clams until three or four years ago, the scabbe struck his cattle and Ihe kiss .started. He made a game tight, as any Sc<:itchinan w«iuld. bul lo no avail, tui" nj sooner ha<l he eradicated Ihe scabbe than ho ran into a txiuple i^f dry years, and his remaining cattle nearly all perished from lack of food and the thirst wll. eh comes in s«ini-nriil country. Altin and his biothej-s stayed on until he had lost everything, hoping for a good year to recoup Ills foriuiie, bul Iho year never came, and this spring tie de- cided to try the country of .Alberta, where oiK^ may get a little cold but never suffer fi-om the drought. DOES NOT DESPAIH. The other afternoon tie passed through the Bed Deer district, not dowii-hesrted after losing his enliix' fortune, bul look- itig forward lo llie lime when once more he could ix-lurn to hi.*, home in Abi'i-deen wilh Ills forlime iiicivasi'd ihreefoUI. This is the kind of .M.'tlK'1-s Ihal Alberta wanls. never lieoleii. and always ready lo make a guine llghl lo overcome the bad hand of fortuiK\ Mr. Alton will sellle on the north side of Ihe Red Uecr Hivcr, and was \er>- much .surprise<l lo see tht> mild weather n' f'algary. »s lie had read in many of the piipei's from lh«« Slate* of llie coun- liy liemg one ma.vs of frozen plains, and the dead cattle l\ing around Ihe strr«t«- Go slow- nnd the other fellow ms«j beat you to it.