p^-f -f -f 4 -H-f -f -M-f ♦♦â- f >M-f4 â- H-4 iM-f^-f-f^ »♦ » ♦ f ♦ » »^ *- > OR, A LOOK INTO THE PAST fUAl'TtJR XIX. Jt was Xnnc.v who spoke first. 6he wa» leaning aglliu!^t the uias- live tree, a world of emotion and agitation expressed ia her sweet lac«. "Whatr-what are you doing here?'' she asks, feehly, almost in- audibly. "How did you get in 5" Derrick lyokea mystified, but only for an instant ; his heart was beating almost to suffocation ; strung man as lie was, he trembled at the violence of the joy and bit- terness iningleJ that suddenly came upon him. "I beg your pardon for intruding. Believe me, I had no idea you were here, or 1 should not have come." Nancy was breatliing in short gasps, her eyes had left his and were wandering round in a nervous, hunt«d way, which sent an angry pang to hib heart. "Youâ€" you iia\e startled me!" she murmured. "No one ever comes here. How did you come 3 Why did you come?" There was a desperat* ring of sor- row in that last question. "I jumped the gate over there," he explained in low, eager tones. "I want to get back to the Uall, and thought this part of tlie grounds was a short cut. 1 " "Part of the Hall grounds," Nancy repeated, with her eyes still going about nervously, as if in search of something or some one. "You â€" you have made a mistake â€" this is not Ripstone property." "i«ot Ripstone ) Then where am IV He went a step nearer to her in bis surprise. "These are the manor grounds, and â€" and my home!" Nancy's lips tre.nbled as she ut- tered the words that should have been pregnant with tenderness, but which, uttered in her low, pathetic voice, carried only too truly the sad plaint of despair. Derrick stepfK-d back involuntar- ily ; he was utterly surprised and overwhelmed with pained annoy- ance. "I entreat you to pardon me," he said, in tones that were choked beyond recognitioii. "Indeed, I knew nothing of thisâ€" it is a ter- rible blunder to have made ; but, believe me. 1 have blundered in ig- norance. I did not know that this was the manor property. I did not know thatâ€" that you were even in the neighborhood. I can but offer my sincere apologies and d«part at once." he had half turned aside as he spoke, and, therefore, did not see her 8>iddeii gesture of despair and anguishâ€" nor the tvars which welled up in her glorious eyes and blinded her so that she liad to prcssr her hand over them to relieve them ; but as he waited a moment for her to answer, and found she was si- lent, he turned again, and then he saw that she was utterly powerless to speak, for she was weeping- weeping very silently, but uono tiie less bitterly. In one stride he was beside her â€"honor, self-restraint, everything (orgotlen in the rush of mad, jias- Hionate love and emotion that swept over him. "Nancyâ€" Nancy ! Oh God ! don't â€"don't, I can't bear itâ€" I can't bear it!" Ho had her two trembling hands in his firm grasp , robbed of their slicker, Nanry bowed her head to hide her tei^rs. Now her self-re- proach, her remorse was gone, fur Derry did not, could not surely hate her if he spone like this. For an instant they stood quiet- ly, though the pulses of each thril- led with mingled ecstasy and mis' cry. "I have frightened you by my sudden appearance, dear," the man said at last, speaking in tones of the deepest tenderness and sad- ness. "1 who would sooner cut off my right hand thaii give you a mo- ment's [)ain. Can you forgive me, Nancy /" Her fingers closed round his for an instant. "Oh ! don't speak like that!" she cried, brokenly. "Forgive youâ€" you !" Then she wrcnehed her hands from his grasp. "Co-go at once," she whispered, eagerly, in- tensely: "don't ask me whyâ€" only go." He hesitated for an instant. "I can't go," he muttere<l, al- most fiercely; "you ask loo much of roc: think of all I have endured, of all I have suffered since that summer night! Nancy, you wrecked my life then. No«» that we have net, I have a right to know why you did this; why youâ€" you wl)o love meâ€" yea, who love mc still â€" you can't deny it ! â€" why you acted 1 as y<;'u did and married thi? manâ€" I i''!<i nwful bruto ! Answer mc â€" I, ^ 1 1...0WI" 1 r 'â- ' T • T '•'X • T • T • T â- Nancy's two hands were clenched together against her heart; two fierce spots of color burned on ci- ther white cheek ; she was itwaying to and fro uncertainly in hor agi- tation. "What if I say I will not answer you*" she muruiurcd, huskily. Then, with a sudden change, she held out one hot, trembling hand toward him. "Derry, my â€" my darling!â€" yes, my darling!â€" do you love me?" she asked him, with strange, unnatural calmness. Then, before his lips had time to open even, while he held her hand in an iron grip between his own: "Yes â€"yes, I know your answer. You are true, stanch, ;oyal â€" my brave, my hero ! Then â€" if you love me â€" you â€" you will not make me suffer moreâ€" you will not stay now to question me on the past, the prc- tjent or the future! You will leave me at once â€" when â€" when you know what pain your presence brings!" Derry stood for one instant si- lent, motionless. He was barely conscious of what fierceness he put into the agony of the grasp that held her hand ; a lump rose in his throat and nearly choked him ; her pale, pathetic face, so sweet, so pure, so wholly given up to the in- tensity of her love for him, struck his heart with the deepest pain he had ever felt in his life. The sudden gleam of happiness that would come v/hen he learned that this girl was still his â€" his by love's powerful right â€" did not lin- ger long. It was followed by a rush of despair, of anguish. Her eager, strangely nervous ap- peal gave him an <tdditional pang. "It is very, very hard," he mwt- tercd, when at last speech came, "to find you, to know that all these" past weeks, when I have been revil- ing you, you have been true in your dear heart â€" to me ! â€" to stand beside yuu and hold your hands, and yet to hear you say that I must go at once ! â€" go I Nancy, do you un- derstand what that means ? W© may never meet again â€" try and realize what that will mean to b»->yh of us!" He was quivering from head to foot. The events of the last fe.w minutes had completely and utter- ly unnerved hiiu. 'The sudden shock of coming upon Nancy, the angui»h that followed on the brief ecstasy awakened by hor avowal of love, all acting on a mind alre.'tdy norvous and unhinged with the struggles it had undergone and en- dured of late, robbed him of every scrap of strength. His face had grown paler oven than the girl's wan one looking up at him. The flushed, stalwart young fellow who only a few mo- ments l}cfore had leajied the gate so lightly and easily seemed to have no kinship with this pale, haggard creature. The very dogs seemed to under- stand that something dreadful was happening, _/or they stood with sad, patient eyes, gazing up at those two distraught faces as tliough they offered silent sympathy and help. The man's weakness gave Nancy strength. "I know â€" I understand," she said, in quiet, low tones. "But even soâ€" dean stâ€" it yet must be donel" "Then your words were false just now ! Y<iu do not love me ! You could not love me, and tell me to leave you!" He loosened his hold on hor as he spoke. Tears welled into Nancy's bhic eyes and rolled down her checks â€" those pale, wan cheeks, that were so different from the rosy ones she had owned back in t)he summer month".. She made a little gesture of de- spair- -so forlorn, so full of desola- tion, that it struck him to tho heart. His arm went out suddenly to- ward her, as if to infold her and hold her to his breast; but she cHd not see the movement, for her head was bent, and some innate touch of purity and delicacy withheld him from his purpose. "Forgive mo, dearest one!" he said, in low, burned tones. "I â€" I did not know what I was saying, Xancy ! Tell mc that you forgive me, dear!" "There is no need for forgive- ness between us," the girl an^vwer- ed, gently, choking her tears with difliculty. Then she turned to him : "But you must go. Yes â€" yes, for my sake, vou will go ! Do not make myâ€"-" She st<ip|)e<l ; it almost seemed as if she choked herself. "Nancy- te.il n.eâ€" docs-hcvâ€" oh I I can't say it! You are unhappy with him. I will not .ask you ag.iin to give me the reason of this mar- riage, the reason for ruining our love, our life I But this you must BOVRIL Assists Digestion It makes a gravy or sanoe which is delicionn in flavor and which also ia a great aid to digestion. A little Bovril makes Sonps of all kinds more nourishin*;. answer mcâ€" it is my rightâ€" I de- mand to knowâ€" does he treat you well?" iShe was silent for a moment. Ah I if she could but have flung herself on his broad breast, and have wept out all the horrors, the miseries, of her brief married career, what a comfort, a relief, it would have 'been ! But she dared not do this. Were she to tell Derry (Aie quarter of the truth of her wretched exist- ence, who knew what he might not do? Besides this, her honor compelled her ffc be silent. Whatever hap- pened, she was Crawshaw's wife ! She had married him knowing what he was. To utter complaint was therefore out of the question. And even were this not so, she would have shrunk from letting Derrick Darnley, of all people, into the dark truths oi her present life. With a magnificent courage she conquered her longing to cling to him as the first friend she had met for months, to beg him to shield and protect her, to remove her from the horrible surroundings which made up her daily existence. She even forced a wan, faint smile to her lips. "Don'tâ€" don't," she said, though the smile soon went, and a quiver came instead. "1 have everything that money can buy â€" and what wo- man wants more (" Darnley's dark eyes dwelt on her face tenderly. Then, with a sudden movement, full of chivalry and homage, he stooped and kissed her hand ; the next moment ho would have turned nway, but she stopped him. "Derry, tell me â€" tell me of Doro- thy â€" my sister, my more than fri(.Hid ! She is in trouble, and I aui hereâ€" here, Eo close, and yet so f/ir away fro.n her ! Ah ! in all my trials, there has been none greater to bear than this !" The words seemed to escape her unconsciously, forced from her overcharged heart by the fulness of her ibitterness, and Darnley was more than answered. He knew i then that his fears had been only i too well founded ,and that Nancy] had more to fight against in her present life than vulgarity and un- congenial surroundings. But as she ha<l been brave and refused to complain, so ho would honor her courage. He saw she did not k4(ow how plainly she had j given him tho knowledge for which he had asked. She had been think- ing of Dorothy, and in the sympa- thy and love she gave to her girl- friend, her sister, her bitter cry of despair had escaped her unnoticed. In a few gentle words he gave her the last hopeful news of Sir Hum- phrey. ".\h !" she breathed, fervently, clasping hor hands together, "that at least is a glimpse of sunshine to me ! They were so good â€" so very, very good to me. Sometimes when I am sitting alone dreaming, it seems as if all tliat happiness which came to nie through their goodness never belonged to me. It was some other creature who lived up at the Hall uiid basked in the sunshine and flowers, was beloved by dear Dorothy, petted by Sir "Humphrey, made much of by every one." Her voice had grown chok- ed as she spoke hurriedly. "Then," she went on, feverishly â€" "then I wake to know that the sunshine has gone, that I have lost Dorothy, and that though she is in sore distress, I do not even go to her and offer her comfort. It is a horrible thought!" she said, with a shud- der. "She has called meâ€" yes, I have heard hor \oice, and yet â€" yet I do not move a sloj) to help her. Oh, will God punish me for my ingratitude? Will He make me suf- fer more?" (To be continued.) the value of the sponges taken, and runs from 950 to $200 a week. When sponges are first taken they are filled with animal life. They are washed as clean aa pas- sible, are assorted, and plaoea on "strings" four feet ten inches in length. They are then ready for sale. There are four grades, in th« following order: Wool, yellow, wire and grass. The sponge market is a lot about an acre in extent in the centre of which is a large building or shed. The sponges are placed in piles of 100 to ICO "strings" all round this building. The sale is conducted in a peculiar way. Tlie buyers e:(%m- ine the sponges and when the auc- tioneer opens the market and calls for bids they write their offers on slips of papers and hand them in. The auctioneer examines the high- est bid, which may be refused by the owner, but the same sponges are not offered for sale twice the same day. They may be put up once more, and if not sold then must be taken away and incorpor- ated in a new lot. The sales take place Tuesdays and Fridays, and the amount realized averages ab- out $12,000 a week. "Uf tood dtftsikm wait on offttHt. and ImaHh on both f They vlll tf jrou take SnAusnAM NADRu^!rspn'M«,HL6T5 Th»jr oorrecJ slemach disar<iars, smIsI digestioa, uid make H<e worth kTtoc •e«>n (or th« vIcUm of dyspepiU. 90c. k boi. It ycnr dr«iet*t has ao< >t«oke4 Ihem yet, scad us 50c. and we will m«l1 them. |6 N «H««i l Drag *a4 Ch »i«k«l Cmbvmh W Caaaja. t tmHiiL • i On the Farm THE DIET IN RHEUMATISM. Red Meats Not the Only Article of Food to be Avoided. If there is a disease more than any other that is caused bv im- proper diet, and that can be helped mos-t often by a diet properly ad- justed to the capacity of the pati- ent, it is rheumatism, in almost every one of its forms. TJiere is a popular belief that meat, especially red meat, is the only archfiend that carries into the system uric acid and the other mem- bers of the purin group, but it is not correct. Tea, coffee, chocolate, cocoa, peas, beans, asparagus, on- ions and a few other foods all con- tain the purin bodies to some ex- tent. Animal soups and malt li-' quurs are also guilty. .\11 alcoholic liquors are objec- tionable, some, of course, more than others. By many the white meat or chicken or other fowl is considered much less pernicious than red meat, such as beef, mut- ton, lamb, etc. ; by others this is contradicted. Excellent authorities, however, state that whatever may be true theoretically the so-called red meats seem most objectionable practically. Increasing the easily digested animal foods, allowing milk, eggs, a amall amount of cheese, broiled or roasted meats, beef, lamb an 1 chicken in small quantities once a day often brings a happy result. Combine witli these farinaceous foods, such as rico, farina, tapioca, wheat bread, etc., and suitable ve- getables and fruits. Such proce<iure may give just the relief the over- worked machine is craving. During acute attacks of rheumatism the diet sliould consist of milk, butter- milk, milk toast, gruels, etc. This should continue so long as there is any fever. All meats and other objectionable articles mentioned above should be excluded until re- covery is assured. Alkaline waters are valuable, and excellent results follow the use of generous quanti- ties (at least three pints daily) of any pure soft water taken between meals. When we hear some people talk we wonder how it is possible for them to change their minds. TIME FOR COW TO FRESHEN. Winter dairying has been advo- cated for many years on the ground that it is more profitable. In the first place, there is not as much work on the farm in the winter time to claim the attention of tiie owner as there is in the sumr;er. During the summer months the fields must be tended, the crop gathered, repairs made on building, etc., while in the winter the da.ry- man has an opportunity to devote the greater portion of his time to his cows. When proper methods are u%ed in preparing a ration for a cow, it is very doubtful whether it costs any more to feed her in the summer than in the winter, especially when we take into consideration that a drought is apt to come during the month of July and August and force the dairyman to feed grain and hay. Moreover the price of land has been steadily advancing, making pasturage more and more expensive. With the use of the silo the growing of clover or alfalfa makes it possible for the dairyman not only to prepare a very good ration, but a very eco- nomical one. Further, cows that calve in the fall will produce more milk in a year, as a rule, than those that drop their calves in the spring. If a herd is properly fed during the winter season the milk yield will be sustained throughout the winter and when they are turned to grass in the spring the stimulating ef- fect of the grass will usually in- crease their milk flow and there will be no heavy shrinkage in milk flow until the cows are ready to go dry. Another reason for having the cows calve in the fall is that it gives the calf a better opportunity to de- velop. When calves are born iu the spring they are apt to be trou- bled considerably by flies to whose ravages they are very susceptible. Fall born calves receive closer at- tention from the feeder than if born in the spring, as there are not so many things claiming his atten- tion. For the first few months of the calf's existence, it can make but little or no attention, which is no drawback, as the fields are demand- ing all the time that a farmer can give. In many respects we consider Hy time the hardest and at least the most aggrevating time to produce milk and the more cows that are dry at this season of the year, the better, so far as the milker is con- cerned. We recognize, of course, there are circumstances and condi- tions which make it more profitable for men to have itieir herds calve in the spring, and dairymen supply- ing cities with milk must have their h<M-c!s ca've at all seasc>ns tif the yc;ir, but as a general tiling we be- lieve it is more profitable and mori satisfactory to have the herd calvti in the fall.â€" Hoard's Dairyman. STOCK IN SUMMER. Nothing contributes more to th*: thrift of live stock than persistent, attention to its needs. The spas- modic enthusiast whose devotion tO' his charges is in proportion to the: immediate impulse is never a real; stockman. Physical well being can- not be administered in bulk. Thes animal which is comfortable, with- out hunger or thirst from day tO' day, and not subjected to disease, maintains a healthy, steady advance in growth, flesh or milk production. Every period of hardship, however short, is accompanied and followed by stagnation of nutritive processes, and the possible loss of progress al- ready made. The pasture season is hailed as h. relief from daily ministration to the comfort of stock, but that idea, is generally overworked. The na- tural advantages of grazing and hospitable weather are easily dissi- pated by carelessness. Short pas- ture, a stale water supply, insuffi- cient shade and protection from fles, vie with the ravages of disease, parasites and preventable accidenta in annoying the stock and robbing the stockman. As the summer advances there ia a strong temptation to allow ani- mals to fare as best they may whil* the entire attention of the farm. help is given over to the crops. Tiiis course cannov be safely follow- ed. When attention lapses acci* dents seem most prone to come. Even if complete arrangements- are made for carrying stock past the harvest rush of work with the miniiuum of attention, responsibil- ity cannot be laid aside. A few- years ago a farmer busy cutting: wheat did not see his flock of sheep from one Sunday until the ne.xt. In- the meantime several lambs were killed by dogs, anu a fat ewe, un- able to get up after rolling over on i her back, had perished after an evi- I dent struggle of a day or two. Ponds and streams sometimes go dry with amazing suddenness in harvest time, with consequent suf- fering to animals. Blackleg may get in deadly work among the calves of a herd when frequent inspection and timely vaccination would havo- nipped the epidemic at its incep- • tion. In a hundred ways the revenue from summer pastures may be lost by the man who is too busy here and there to attend to all of his interests. The stockman can never j shake off responsibility. His fidel- ity to it measures his success. â€" The; Breeders' Gazette. Most of us feel that we could gel» along nicely on double our income. "What is your idea of a heroine,. John?" asked the wife of his bos- om, and she looked up from the^ novel she was reading. "A heroine,; my dear," answered John, "is a- woman wiio could talk back, but, doesn't." A SPONGE MARKET. Bids for "StriiiKs" are Ilunded to tho .Viietioucer. Sponges grow to perfection at the bottom of the blue waters of tho Gulf of Mexico and are found in greater abundance within a radius of twenty-fivf miles o( Tar- pon Springs than elsewhere in tho waters of the United States, and are of a superior quality. They arc oxeelle<l only by those caught in tho Mediterranean Sea. Sponges are taken by divers who go down in waters twenty to fifty feet in depth. These divers often meet with c.xeitiiig adventures and are constantly exposed to danger from shark'! and other denizens of tho deep. Their pay i> based on $3,600 in Cask Prizes f«r Farmera READ the condltlont you would have Utile of the PrUe Con- chance afalnit your teat w» are con- nelshbor. For remem- ductlnr for the farm- ber. • Prlsej "C" and era of Canada. $400.00 "O" have no bearlnc In prlic* will he award- whatever upon the quantity of cement used ed to each Province. Theae priaea will %e divided As a matter of fact, your luccesa in thla con- Into four jroupi. conalatlng of: te.t win depend to a great extent on your careful PRIZE "A â€"1100.00 to bt ti*» te the tinn«r ia etch readlnc oJ our ICO-pare book, "What the' Farmer ProTiBM who will UM duriag l»n the jroittft Dumber of n... r.â„¢ toi.w r^ ... . L. .! manner b.rr.!. of "CANADA" C««.nt. PRIZE •'h"-$ioo.oo lo b. *^'" ^° ^'"' Concrete." In thla bookâ€" lent freo (irn to the (aimtr in •ack ProTinc* who uto. "CANADA" on requeit to any farmer, full Initructlons are Ctmtnt for the irreirfeal number of purposri. PRIZK "C" â€" .lu,.^ „. ._ .v • 1100.00 to bt |iv«i. 10 the ftrntr in etc* Prorince who •'''**» " '0 '"• usea of concrete, and plana furnithei u« Willi ihe photorrtph thowing tiie beit of tny for every kind of farm bulldlnra and farm kind o4 work iete on hit fsrra durinc 1911 ntiiitv Ymi'ii ••• >>>. .....t •# .vi v .. with "CANADA" Otamx PRIZK 'D"â€" ""'"X- lou 11 see the need of tkU book. I to be giTsn to ihi farner in etch whether you are Koinf to try tor a »rU* rA w^ * jviTince who lubmiit tbt belt tnd moil m* nn» re w.... w. ^ . ryy W^V ooinpltU dttoriptlo. of k.w toy p". '' ^' ^°^ ''*^* °°' «*>' J'""" <'*<i!fi:vO^ ticnltr piece «l wtrk (tkown by copy yet, wrtte for it to-ntcht. '>'^'*'^yv^ Photojitph «,nt i.) WM d.a.. simply cut off the attached ceu- ( f^*y<J^^H^|^V Every farmer In Canada U pon â€" or a poitcard will do- • Pictee '' '^^^"V^iH^V ellf Ible. Therefore, do not ilgn yeur name aad ad- / ••'»' Cir- ^ nL ^MHBKnV^ >>• deterred from enter- dreaa thereto and mail y <="'*' *°' v^'^'^^flBprv'j^V inf by any feeling that it tofttght. X ^^°'^ Canada Cament Comfmny, Limited y t,tta*m. MONTUAL