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m _ <*‘It is very sad," said Lady Wynde, wondering in _ her â€" own hcart if â€"Georgeâ€"Wymé‘s death could be made to benefit ‘her pecuniarily. ‘‘The surgeon . seems a very kindâ€"hearted person, and he says that George has an excellent native nurse, George‘s manâ€"servantâ€"** x daybreak, upon â€" the the occurrence of related in the preceding , _ Lady Wynde‘s gray comâ€" jon departed from khurst for ury in a hich, with er, the bar s wile had orâ€" be always at* Artress‘ disâ€" < took the early train up ¢ business a secret beâ€" i her mistress and herself. At the usual breakfast hour, eight ‘clock, . Lady Wynde descended to :l. breakfast room. Sir Harold was ‘ there, and greeted her with usual tender smile, although he somewbat careworn. ‘Their ‘ ings were scarcely over, and the mk had taken their places ut the table, â€" when â€" the butler appeared, bringing in the morning mail bag. Bir Harold produced his key and r it. There was a few newsâ€" e for himself, some packets of j »-mlgllu. ard a lett@ from Maâ€" ise, her _‘ dressmaker, for Wynde. ‘There were two letâ€" ters for the baronet, one quite unâ€" important, . which he tossed aside. ‘Phe other bore the Indian postâ€" mark. He tore open the letter hastily, his countenance falling. â€" "A letter from George," said Sir Harold, his eyes brightening. ‘‘No, it‘s not from George. The address is not in his hand. Who can have written to me in his stead?" His first glance was at the date; his second at the signature. An exâ€" clamation broke from his lips as he read aloud the name appended to the letter: ‘"‘Cooper Graham, Regimenâ€" tal Surgeon.‘" . 7 ‘‘What _ can _ this mean?"" he exâ€" claimed, is sudden agitation. *‘Can George be ill? Octavia, read the letter _ to me. Lady Wynde took the letter, readâ€" ing it aloud. 4 It was long, too long to tranâ€" scribe here, and its import was terâ€" rible to the baronet. It opened with the announcement that the writer was the surgeon of Captain Wynde‘s regiment, and that Captain Wynde was a patient under his care. It went on to say that Captain Wynde was a victim of a terrible and inâ€" curable disease under which he had been suffering for months, and the surgeon had learned that the poor young man had not written home tq his friends the fact of his peril. His disease _ was a cancer, which was preying upon his vitals. Captain Wynde had been relieved of his reâ€" gimental duties, and sent up into the hill country, where he now was. The young man‘s thoughts by day and mnight _ were of his homeâ€"nis one longing was to see his father before be died. Surgcon Graham went on to say that Captain Wynde coulg not possibly survive a Sea journey; that he could _ not bear the bracing sca mir, nor the fatigues of the overland route, and he would assuredly die on his way â€" home. But, he added, that in the cool and quiet seclusion of his upcountry bungalow, his life could ‘ probably be prolonged for some three months. Surgeon Graham _ concluded his startling letter with a further referâ€" ence to Captain Wynde‘s anxicty to look once more on his father‘s face before he died. He said that the poor young man had desired that the letter should not be written to Sir Harold, and that the baronet should be informed of his son‘s illness only in the letter which should announce that son‘s death. This terrible news was arfearful shock to Sir Harold. His son George, the heir of his name and esâ€" tates,. was dying in a far, forcign land, with a frightful disease, with mo relative or friend about him to smooth his pillow in his last agony, or to wipe the deathâ€"damp from his brows. The father sobbed aloud in his agony. ‘‘My boy! my boy!‘‘ he cried, in & broken yoice. ‘"‘My poor boy dyâ€" ingt*" â€" e ~ Sir Harold interrupted his wife by m gesture of impatience. *"The man is a Hindoo,"" he said. *‘What â€" consolation can he offer George in the hour of his death, when his eyes should rest on u tenâ€" der, loving faceâ€"when his dying hands should grasp the hands of a friend? My poor brave boy! How could I ever _ consent to his ‘oin£ out to India? All his bright, mil tary genius, all his longing to disâ€" tinguish himsel{ in the army, must end in an early Indian grave! But he . shall not die with not one of his kindred beside him. We â€" must go to him, ‘Octavia. We shall reach him in time.‘" Sir Harold scized upon his unopenâ€" ed Times, and glanced over the adâ€" vertisements, "A lg:-' sails from Marseflles two hence,"‘ he announced. *‘We must be off toâ€"day, immediateâ€" ly, to catch it. I will have a bag packed at once. Order your maid to parck your trunks, Octavia=â€""* _ He paused, not 6c the surprined â€" stare m« bold black eyes. f **You seem to be laboring under a mistake, Sir Harold," said Lady Wynde, coolly. . "If you choose to go out to India, you can do so. .George is ybur son and heir, and I supposé it would really look <better if you were to go, But as to my hurrying by sea and land, by day and night, to witness the denth of a young man I never saw, the idea is simply preâ€" posterous. My health could never endure the strain of such a fatigue; You would have two graves to make n&ldm" «lines in Sit Harold‘s face conâ€" _m-n.m&. _ "Iâ€"â€"f was selfish to t] of your going, Octavia,"‘ he said sorrowfully. ‘It e true that we should have to Author. of "Lady CHAPTER IV BY MRS. HARRIET LEWIS. f "L ady Kildare," "Beryi‘s Husband," "The Old Life‘s g perhe hethedeot cfeg _ He arose flt out, leaving his w& x hed.. Lady Wynde her â€" coffec leisurely, and ate her breakfast with untroubled appeâ€" tite. Then she proceeded to her own private sittingâ€"room, and took . her place at one of the windows, watchâ€" ing the whirling snowâ€"fakes of the ~FebFuary storm. Sir Harold found her here whenm he came in, dressed for his journey. He had . ordered a carriage, which | was ready. His traveling bag was | packed, and had been taken below. He had come in to say goodâ€"bye to ' his wife. Ing there Ambng atrarigers, wilh ho woman beside him.‘ Ifâ€"if you could have gone to him, my wife, and let umtuluuhtmmb-o. mother _ here @ mother thereâ€"** \ .M **I should like to it my health .. would pc-ls: da’!m Wynde. **But vhy do you not take your daughter with you?‘‘ ‘The father shook his â€"head. A ‘‘Bhe is so young,‘‘ he said. ‘"She is so fond of poor George:~‘ I cannot cast so heavy a w over her fu» ture ‘life as that visit to her brothâ€" er‘s deathâ€"bed would be. No, Octaâ€" xie, I will go alone." "It is not necessary to promise," said Lady Wynde, ‘"‘but to please you, Iâ€"promise.‘"‘ ‘‘What a great change a single hour has wsought in our lives!" he said, as he came up to Lady Wynde and put his arms around her. ‘;Octavia, my darling, it wrings my heart . to leave you. Write to me by every post. I shall remain with my boy until all is over. ‘Tell ne all the home news. You will have _ Neva home at Easter, and love her for my sake! She will be our only . child soon!* * He embraced his wife with passionâ€" ate affection, and murmured words of anguished farewell. He tore himâ€" self from her, but at the door he turned back, and spoke to her with a solemnity she had never seen in him before. *‘Octavia,‘‘ he said, ‘"‘at this moâ€" ment a strange presentiment . comes over meâ€"a sudden horrorâ€"a chill as of death! ®Perhaps I am to die out there in India! Ifâ€"if anything hapâ€" pens to me, Octavia, promise me to be good to my Neva." s Sir Harold‘s keen blue eyes, . full of anguish, rested in a long . steady gaze. upon that false handsome face, and the solemnity of his countenance increased. "*You will. be Neva‘s guardian, if I die,‘‘ he said, in a broken _ voice. ‘"I trust you absolutely. God do unto yau, Octavia, as you do unto my orâ€" phan child!‘‘ _ How those words rang in the cars of Lady Wynde long afterward! Sir Harold gave her a last â€" emâ€" brace, and dashed down the stairs and sprang into the carriage. Lady Wynde watched him with tearless eyes as he drove down the avenue. When he had disappeared from her sight, she said to herself: ‘"‘Of course I could have done noâ€" thing to put an end to Sir Harold‘s life this morning. I only hope he will die in Indiaâ€"to save me _ the trouble ofâ€"of doing anything when he gets back!‘‘ _ Sir Harold proceeded to Canterâ€" bury with all specd. On arriving, he proceeded directly _ to his solicitor‘s, had a new will drawn up, constitutâ€" ing Lady Wynde his daughter‘s perâ€" somal guardian, and making Neva his sole heiress in the event of her brothâ€" er‘sâ€"death, Lady Wynde having beem sufficiently provided for by her marâ€" riage settlements. The will _ duly signcd and witnessed, Sir Harold hasâ€" tened to the station, catching the train for Dover. He ceossed to Calais by the first boat, and went on to Marseilles, by way of Paris, without stopping even to see his daughter. He was not only in time get passage by the Messaâ€" geries Inmerhleo stcamer, but had am hour to spare. In this hour he wrote a long and very tender letter to Mis daughter, telling her of her brother‘s illness, and hinting of the _ gloom that had settled down upon his own soul. He begged her if anything hapâ€" pened to him on this journey, to love her stepâ€"mother, and to obey her in all things, â€"reg@rding Lady Wynde‘s utterances as if they came from Sir Harold. P He also wrote a note to his . wife, and sent the two ashore to be posted by one of the agents of the company, jgufl. as the vessel weighed anchor for Suez. _In thirtyâ€"five days after leaving home he was in the Indian hill counâ€" try, and beside his dying son. _ _ Ladg Wynde went out very little after her husband‘s departure. She gaÂ¥e no more dinner parties, and beâ€" haved with such admirable discretion that her noighbors. were full of praise of her. _ Aithough young, handsome and admired, presiding over one of the finest places in the country, With no one to direct or thwart her moveâ€" monts, The ost tenSorfous ‘Tongue could find nothing to condemn . in her The only» recreation she allowed herself were her weekly visits to Lonâ€" don, ostensibly to see Madameé Elise, Mleoihanfee "ho;" ficy shiiled â€" 2s a hor, they excited . no mm-ld t even in her own . house» hold. Easter drew near, and Lady Wynde wrote to her satepdaughter that it munothoulmient\om at Hawkhurst during the and . ordsred._her to remain at her The m months passed â€" slowly. Lady wrict~ hy cvery post to her husband, and +«..i~~4 letter®s as frequently.. George‘s mis«i~=* sympâ€" toms were described to her Ly~ the anxipus father, and George himse:/, looking at his stepâ€"mother . through hi. fathor‘s eycs, sent . her kv= and pathstis messages, to which duly responded. e mend About â€" the mkidls of us the time wore on until the received a was She was sitting in the drawingâ€" room at Hawkhurst when the letter was brought to her. She was still sitting there, the letter lying on her | lap, twice read, when her gray comâ€" panion stole into the room. I ‘"A letter from Sir Harold, Octaâ€" | via?"‘ said Artress, glancing at the blackâ€"bordered missive. myself of the tramimels of my . presâ€" _*I shall. be free in September," ...‘rqm.wu.ukun eyes, "A widow with four thousand a year! Ab, if only some good deâ€" mon would bring about that . ‘happy dact, _ leaving whn@.m with crime.‘" es . 4 5 marty again.‘ after Sir Harold‘s return," said Artâ€" ress. ‘"And he will be here in . Sepâ€" \‘The surgeon stated that the barâ€" onet had made arrangements for returning.. to h&nd, and that he had ‘?.fil a last ride among the hills. had taken a jungle path, but being well armed and . attended by a Hindoo servant, had anticipated no trouble. Some hours after~ he had set out on his ride, about the time the surgeon looked for his reâ€" turs, the Hindoo servant, . covered with dust rode up alone in a very panic of terror. With difficulty _ he told his story. Sir Harold had been attacked by a tiger that had leaped upon him from the jungle, and _ beâ€" fore his terrWled servant could come _ It seemed as if her familiar demon had anticipated her prayer. _ _ us on t dn s it ce ies t 3 o . Some . two weeks later, a second blackâ€"bordered letter was brought to l"‘{.x-b. It was in an unfamilâ€" jar writing, and proved to . be from Surgeon Grabam. . .. _ It announced the death of Sir Harâ€" old Wynde! Ey oo ciorooae, nany . to his aid, he had been dragged from his saddle, with the lifeâ€"blood wellâ€" ing from his torn throat and breast. ‘The servant appalled, had not dared to fire, knowing that no, human power could_help S;r_}{uolfi in his extremi‘y, and the baronet had been killed before his eyes. The Hindoo had then fled homeward to tell . the @wiul story. The surgeon added, that a party had been made up to visit the scene of the tragedy. A pool of blood, fragments of Sir Harold‘s garments, the bones of his horse, and the footâ€" prints of a tiger, all tended to the confirmation of the Hindoo‘s story. A hunt was organized for the tiger, and he was found near the same spot on the following day and killed. We have given a brief epitome _ of the letter that declared to _ Lady Wynde that her prayer was amswered, and that she was a widow. ‘‘No, it is from that Surgeon Graâ€" ham, answered her ladyship, with an exultant thrill in her low, soft voice. ‘‘You cannot guess the news, Arâ€" tress. Sir Harold is dead!‘ "‘Dead?"* ‘‘Yes,‘"" cried Lady Wynde, ‘"and I am a widow. Is it not glorious? A widow, wellâ€"jointured and free to marry again! Ha, ha! Tell the houseâ€" hold the sad news, Artress, and tell them all I am too overcome with grief to speak to them. Let the bell at the village be set tolling. Send a notice of the death to The Times. I am a Widow .and the guardian of the heiress of Hawkhurst!i You must write to my stepâ€"daughter of her beâ€" reavement, and also drop a note to Craven. A widow, and _ without crime. ‘The heiress of Hawklvarst in my hands to do with as I please! Your future is to be linked with mine, my young Neva, and a fate your father never, destined for you shall be yours. I stand upon the pinnacle of @uccese at last." Â¥he â€" amnouncoment of Sir Harold Wyade‘s death in India, so soon afâ€" tef the death of his son and hcir, preduced a shock throughout his naâ€" #ive county of Kent, and even threughout â€" England; for, although the baromet had been no poliiician, he had been one of the best known men in the kingdom, and there were many who had known and esteemed him, who mourned deeply at his The London papers, The Times, ‘The Morning Post, and others, came out _ with glowing sulogies of the grandâ€"souled baronet / whose life had been so noble and benelicient. ‘The local papers of Kent copied these long obituaries, and added thereto mecounts of the pedigree of the Wynde family, and a description of the young heiress upon whom, by the untimely deaths of both father and brother, the great family estates and possessions, _ all excepting the bare title, now devolved. The retainers of the family, the farmers and servantsâ€"those who had known Sir Harold bestâ€"mourned for him, refusing to be comforted. ‘They would never know again a landlord so genial, nor a master so kindly; and although they koped for much from _ his daughter, yet, as they moturnfully said zo cach other, Miss Neva would marry some day, and the chances were c-w;‘?nt she would give to Hawkht a harsh and tyrannical master. The little village of Wyndham, ~â€"â€"* Hawkhurst, the very ideal of a Rentish village, . had ‘been fmostly owned by Sir Harold Wynde,. To him had belonged the row of shops, the old inn with its creaking sign, and pzt of the neat houses that stood gardens along the single street. It was Sir Harold who had caused ... to be built the little new stome church, with its slender spire, and in this church the mourning vilâ€" lagers gathered to listen to the serâ€" mon that was preached in commemâ€" oration of the baronet‘s death. Lady Wynde was not present to listen â€"to this sermon. Her gray companion, _ attired in deep mournâ€" ing, with the nuwflhold of Hawkhurst, _ was , _ and the ‘m clergyman made a feeling alâ€" 1 to _ "the â€" bereaved young widow, Mtz alone in her darkened chamber weeping for her dead, retusing like Rachael of old, to be corâ€"forted.‘‘ ~Many of the kindly woâ€" 'fi"‘u&a.t‘ shina ‘ber double mourning r‘h-v wish he would come," . # Wynde discontentedly, to companion. *I am tired of : existence. I am anxious to Lady Wynde was lying upon a in her luxurious sittingâ€"room at kburst, busy with a . French , and _ she knew also that mot cun be free within a © week CHAPTER V and â€"to be to be quite broken down Eh bereaveâ€" ment, aod for weeks‘ not out wf doors. _ And wher hlfl]% arged to take care of “ l-‘fi ‘ncomlT‘ to ber loss, she took worning drives, her equipage looked t en en uk _of old‘s F %m been . ‘cold the ible announcement, without one line to soften its horror. . About a woek later, “JP". having been received : from eva, Lady: Wynde wrote a very pathetic letter, full of protestations of sympathy, and setâ€" t_h.loiru: her own mock sorrow as something _ genuinely heartâ€"rending, and _ declaring. . herself utterly proâ€" strated in both body and mind. ga Indyship offered her condolences.. to the bereaved daughter, assuring her that henceforth they ‘"must be all the world to each other,‘"" and conâ€" eluded ‘her letter by the falss stateâ€" ment that it had been the late Sir Harold‘s.. wish _ that his diughter should remain at the Paris sghool a year longer, and, as the wishes of the dead are sacred, Lady Wynde had sacrificed her own personal feelings in the matter, and had consented that Neva _ should remain another year ‘‘under the care of her @xcellent French teachers." *‘That disposes of the girl for a year," commented Lady Wynde, as she sealed _ the missive. ‘"I won‘t have her here to spy upon me until the year of mourning is over, and I am free to do just as I please." like a {uneral one, her .carriage and bue face." beikg sprouded i4 duplc own folds of sombre crape. l $ 1s So the letter was dispatehed, and the _ baronet‘s daughter was comâ€" demned to continue her school tasks, even though her heart might be breaking. ‘There was no leisure for her in which to weep for the fate of her _ noble father; no one who had known â€" him with whom she might talk of him; and only in the long and lonely ni{g\t times was she free to weep for hi®, and then indeed her pillow was wetted with her tears. About three weeks after the reâ€" ceipt of the letter from India anâ€" mouncing Sir Harold‘s death, the baronet‘s solickor at Canterbury reâ€" ceived a note from the widow, reâ€" questing him â€" to eall at Hawkhurst on the following day. He obeyed the summons, bringing with him a copy of Sir Harold‘s will, made, as willâ€" be remembered, upon the day of the baronet‘s departure from Engâ€" land. Lady Wynde, clad in the deepâ€" est weeds of woe, and attended by Artress, also in mourning, received the solicitor in The library, a grand apartment with vaulted ceiling, and lofty walls lined with books in uniâ€" form Russia leather bindings. ‘‘I have sent for you, Mr. Atkins,‘" said Lady Wynde, when the customâ€" ary greetings had been exchanged, ‘"to learn if poor Sir Harold left a will. I had his desk searched, and no _ document of the sort can be found. If he made no will I am anxious to know how I un. to be affected by the omission.‘‘ Mr. Atkins, a thin, small man, with a large, bald head, looked surâ€" prised at the simple directness _ of this _ speech. He had expected to find _ her ladyship overcome with grief, as report pcrtr?'ed her; but her eyes were as brigh? and tearless, her cheeks as red, her features as composed, as if the business in hand were of the most trivial and unimâ€" portant description. _ Atkins, who had appreciated Sir Harold‘s grand nature, fcla an aversion to Lady Wynde from this inoment. ‘"‘She didn‘t care for him,"" he menâ€" tally decided on the instant. ‘"Shc‘s an arrant humbug, and poor Sir Harold‘s love was wasted on her. Upon my sout, 1â€"betieveâ€" «1t sheâ€"cared about him was for the title and Iris money.‘‘ Lady Wynde‘s sharp eyes did not fail to perceive the unfavorable imâ€" pression she had made. She bit her lip fiercely, and â€" her checks flushed hotly. Her brows arched themselves supereiMfously, _ and â€" Mr. _ Atkins, marking her impatience, hastened to answer: C ‘‘I presume no one will care to question the will," said Lady Wynde coldly, ‘‘although Sir Harold was in a very excited frame of mind that morning, on account of the news of his son‘s illness, and the pain _ of leaving his home and me. _ Neverâ€" theless, I dare say he was quite comâ€" petent to dictate a will. I sent you the particulars ~of Sir Harold‘s death, with some of the letters deâ€" tailing the sad event which I have received from India. There being no possible doubt of his awful fate, it is time to prove his will. I wish you to give me some idea of its conâ€" tents." The solicitor drew out a leathern pocketâ€"book and took it & neatly folded paper. ""I have here a copy of the will," he said briefly. "Is it your ladyship‘s wish to have the will formally read, in the presence of witnesses?"‘ ‘‘No, that is unnecessary, _ Leave out the usual useless preamble and tell me what disposition my husâ€" band made of his propertyâ€"the freeâ€" hold farms, the money in the bank, the consols, the : bonds and mortâ€" gages? All these ho was free toâ€"leavs toxoll he pleased. I desire to know\to whom he did leave them.‘ ‘There was a grecdincss in the looks and tones of Lady Wynde that chillâ€" ed Atkins. In hor anxiety io learn the contents of the will, her ladyâ€" ship balf dropped her mask and disâ€" played something of her true charmeâ€" ter, and he was quick to read . "Sir Harold Wynde, in expectation of the death of his son and helr," reâ€" Tones. "bequesifed ait . ime property have mentioned, all his real and . his ~daughter, « Wyue s t .o 2 S mroie o > Web long from Sir Harold mflmty: ar provided.â€" for terms â€" marriage seitiement. You have '73 Hiights for your dower house and four thousand pounds a g‘fitfic your life, with fo restrictions in rcâ€" gard to. a setond. martiageâ€"a . very liberal provision I consld-r_la." ‘‘And a very shabby one L consider im dines adiues own. ‘* w sevâ€" myflouc':adzu.fi.ym, and I bave a paitry four. It is a shame, a misefable, burning shame!‘‘ a misefable, W . "It is unjust, mutterâ€" *"Sir Harold thought the sum suMâ€" cient, and I must say I a with him,‘" dcclared Atkins. gm ladyâ€" shipâ€" was contented . with the proâ€" vision at your marriage. â€"â€"If the alâ€" lowance was unsatisfactory, why did you not expostulate with Sir Harâ€" old at that time? ‘ Why wait until he is dead to accuse him of injustice?"‘ ‘‘We will not argue the matter," said Lady Wynde superciliously. ‘‘I shall not contest the will. And now about my rich young stepâ€"daughter, Who are her appointod. guardians?" . There was a perceptible anxiety eg her manmer, which Atkins noti with some wonder. He referred to his copy of the will, which was open in his hands. ‘"Sir Harold appointed yourself, my lady, the personal guardian _ of his daughter,"" he said slowly. ‘‘Miss Wynde is to resideâ€"at Hawkhurst unâ€" der your careâ€"until she becomes . of age or marriecs. Upon the occmrrence of cither of those events your ladyâ€" ship is to retire to Wynae Heights, or to whatsoever place you may preâ€" fer, leaving Miss Wynde absolute misâ€" tress of â€" Hawkhurst. Of course if Miss Wynde desires you to remain afâ€" ter her marriage, or the attainment of her majority; you are at liberty to do as you please. I think you comprehend Sir Harold‘s meaning. If it is not precisely clear, I will read the willâ€"" ‘"‘Do not!" interrupted Lady Wynde impatiently. ‘"I abhor all that tedâ€" jous phraseglogy. I understand that I am Miss Wynde‘s sole personal guardian, that I am to direct her aciions, introduce her into society, and that she is to give me the simâ€" ple, unhesitating obedience of â€" a daughter. Is this not so?" â€" "‘It is,‘"" assented Atkins, rather hesitatingly. *"Sir Harold expresses the hope that his> widow and his daughter will love each other; and that your ladyship will give to his orphan child a mother‘s tenderness and affection .‘ ‘‘There are three trustees appointed to look after the egtate during Miss Wynde‘s minority,"" _ answered Atâ€" kins. ‘"Sir John Freise is one. You know him well, my lady, and a more incorruptible, honestâ€"souled gentleâ€" man than he does not exist. . He is & man of fine business capacity, and Sir Harold could not bave chosen better. I am also a trustee, and I can answer for my own probity, and for my great devotion to the interâ€" ests of Miss Wynde." ‘‘And the third trusteeâ€"who is he?" ‘‘The young Earl Towyn. He is the son of one of Sir Harold‘s dearâ€" cst friends, as you probably know, and his youth admirably balances Sir Jobn‘s age." "Sir Harold knew that he could depend upon my kindness to*, his child,‘"" said Lady Wynde hypocritiâ€" cally. ‘‘I promised him before he went away to be a mother to her, although I shall be but a young moâ€" ther, to be sure. I shall be very good to the poor girl, whom I love alâ€" ready. I don‘t know anything about law, Mr. Atkins, but is not some other guardian also necessaryâ€"some one to see to the property, you know?*‘ Lady Wynde looked thoughtful. Hor gray companion bent over her work, embroidering a black monogram upon a blackâ€"bordered handkerchief, _ and did not look up. Her â€" ashenâ€"hued lashes lay on her ashen checks, and she looked dull, spiritless, a mere gray shadow, as we have called her, but Atkins, studying her face, had an uncomfortable impression tbat under a‘l that coldncss a fire was burning. ‘‘She‘s more than she looks to be,"‘ he thought keenly. ‘"I wonder Sir Harold tolerated her in the house. How singularly she resembles a cat?"‘ _ Lady Wynde presently broke _ the gilence. W munow SyRUP has heen %wwm.% fon o E:c ‘"‘I understand the situation of afâ€" fairs," she ‘said, ‘"‘and I am obliged te you for your prompt attendance upon my summon®}, Mr. Atkins. 1 shall leave my money affairs in your hands. I desire my jointure to be paid into the bank and placed to my credit, so that I may draw upon it when E please. ‘There is nothing more, I think." Colonial Laws. A narration of the Iaws relating to the flabbath and. the prosecutions due to them would fll a buge volume and make interesting reading. The rigid Puritan observance of the Lord‘s day had its orâ€" igin with the Puritans of old England and reached its fullest development in Puritan New England. â€" Nome of the laws was more rigidly enâ€" forced than those.intended to prevent the "prophaning of the Lord‘s day." The old records mre full of convictions for violation of them. Captain Kimble of Boston was in 1656 set for two hours in the public stocks for his "lewed and naâ€" scemly conduct," which consisted in kissâ€" Ing his wife publicly on the Sabbath day upon the doorstep of his house when he had just returned from a voyage, after an nbsence of three years. The story is tol} of Robert Pike of Amesbury that, baving to go on a journey, he waited paâ€" tiently until the sun sank behind the western clouds on Sunday evening and then mounted his horse, but he bad only gone a short distance when the last ray gleamed thm‘{l a break in the clonds, and the next day he was browght before the court and fined. FOR OVER FIFTY YEARS (To be continued.) my nemg is not is one of Carter‘s |;im= Little Liver Pills.| Waterloo A general banking business tranâ€" sacted. Total Assets â€" _â€" ~â€" 16,000,000 BERLIN BRANCH. FarxrErS‘ notes discounted, and advances made to feed cattle, etc, â€" Special attention. given to collectâ€" ing Sale Notes and money loaned thereâ€" on at low rates. } Deposits of one dollar and upwards received in the*Savings Bank or on ‘Special Deposit and highest rates of interest allowed. Drafts and Money Orders issuod on all points at lowest rates. Special attention paid to the business of farmers and out of town customers. Blank Notes for tarmers sales supplied free on application: % Tad 22. | Pursty veqetaiite,, ow PeC BANK OF HAMILTON Capital (pai in Shmcdl, cmd wl Advances made on all kinds of suitâ€" able securities. ' Cheques on ary bank cashed and colléctions made anywhere on most fayorable terms. Momey miay be sent all over the world ve: cheapli and with safety, by bank fiynns sold by us. SAVINGS DEPARTMENT. SAFE â€" CONVENIENT. Sums of $1 and more received and interest allowed at higbest bank rates. Interest added twice a year, in May and November. _ _ Debentures and Municipal bonds bought. â€" uo ks Money may be withdrawn at any time without trouble or delay. While the rate of interest may seem small when compared with that promised by speculators, the income is certain, and the money is safe and can be got when wanted. J. P.; BELL, Agent. BERLINâ€" ESTABLISHED 1867, . COapital, $8,000,000, Rest, $2,000,000. HEAD OFFICE, TORONTO. PmE ad A general Banking Business traneâ€"| WATERLOO acted at the WATERLOOG â€" BRANGHK | "°*~"°~ "T had for a long time been thinking of trying the Tasteless Samaria Prescription treatment on my husband for his drinkâ€" ing Mblu‘ but I was afrald he would disâ€" cover that I was glviné him mgl;‘lne, and the thought unnerved me. . I itaâ€" tod for nearly a week, but one day when he came home very much intoxicated and his week‘s wlnfiy pearly all spent, I throw off all foat and determined to make an effort to save our home from the ruin I saw coming, at all hazards. Isent fo:dytmr Tasteless Samaria Prescription, a rnt hnfl‘r his coffes as directed next morning and watched and prayed for the result. Atnoon I gave him more and also at supâ€" per. He ne::;'mfl':m"nnd! m w on . larly, as ll{nd discovered lmhmqm sot every norve in my my h? lnfillng with l?o and happiness, and I could see a ht futurs spread out before meâ€"a hm;w home, a share in the Td , of .;.rfinl loving husâ€" mfo&‘m e slso dear to a woman‘s ; for told 10 thiat whhle‘l was and he was taking a dislike to it. . It was only Inpemâ€"as ho bad done from promiscs beâ€" fore. Henwu-hundlm,mnfyml this lettor to tell you how thankfal I am. Whflw‘_ i it will cure the worst BANK OF COMMERCE A Lady Who Cures Her Husband of His Drinking Habits Writes of Hier Struggle to * Save Her Home. wWAS A DRUNKARD |a Must Bear Signature of CURE SICK HEADACHE, See Pacâ€"Simile Wrapper Bciow. A PATHETIC LETTER. A. W. ROBARTS, Maxacer ‘HUSBAND THE CANADIAN 1, 750,000 and not for cooling in any quantities, large reasonable, prices. This ice can safely be . purposes as its the STANDARD DICTION in the following bindings:â€"Two 1 umes full morocco,publishers‘ pri $24 00, which we will sell for $13, Two volumes in half russia bindi regular $20 oo â€"edition for 3,” One volume full morocco, regt $20 0o ed.tion for $10 oo.â€" Ont ‘3'.: ume half russia, regular $17.00 & tion for $9.00. 3 «h 154 m98 Write us for quotations otfi al reference works. cxp Toronto, Wells Drilled All kinds of repairing done at reasonable prices _ AaT) â€" hept on Pasd Rrotorty : Sanderson‘s Bakery. King St Waterloo. -.j Fancy Bread, Buns, Rolls‘ and 'q Cakes always on hand s Get one of my splendid new sets of Harness now. â€" It will improve the appesrance of "Q_' outfit one hundred per cent. * ouk 4 sNYDER‘S DRUC STORE, HONEST HARNESS AT Absolute Purity is < Waterloo, Ont. a !."”"”'“ conduct ful and Washi iy dispatch Send us a rough We have a number® of ED. DERM Call or write if you need any drugs or drug sundries; if not in stock will procure it.â€" REMEMâ€" Standard . Diction We have the largest assortâ€" ment at satisfactory prices. | ‘ ate N4 me. _ 8. GINGRIOH. JOHN STREBEL GRAIN MARKET, _ T. J. FORD & CO. HARNESS SHOP _ Repairihg at moderate rates. LEAPER BROS _ HAWKESVILLE Crutches. At!?miu!és. t ount nges. Bulb J n Watny:l Bo‘t:.u. Ice Bags. REMEMBER Telephone 233. Stre bel‘s BERLIN Air Cushions. Suspensaries, HONEST PRICES