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Very pretty Louielooked in her pale blue morning dress, her trip abroad had benefited her, the flush of perfect; health was upon her face, there was not a shadow of care or pain in the soft, true eyes. Th; conversation was too unpleasant, too wearisome ; he resolved to break it otf. Slip- ping his arms around her, he raised Muriel to her Ieet. “ What a strange thought, Russel 1” she murmured; and there WAS a tone of bitterness in his voice as he an- sweted: “I an; very glad to have yo\u with me again, my daa'ling,”she murmured. “I have missed you very much ! it seems as though you had been away along time, much longer than you really hsfve." “Four months,” said Louie, thoughtfully "lb does seem longer than that ; 12: does not seem as though I could hava possibly travel- led about as much as I have done in such a. comparatively short space of time. Mr. Brentwool is the best traveller : I know I have seen as much. if not more, of Em'ope, than a great many people who have spent a year or two there, and it is only bec luse he knew just where to go ohlmamma, we dld have such a perfectly lovely time!” “And now, dear, tell me all about your tnp,” said Muriel, leaning back in her chair her eyes resting very tenderly upon Louie, her heart filling with fond pride that the lovely girl whose beauty would have “I am not going to let you talk any long- er," he said lightly. “It; Is past two o’cldck; you ought to be very tired, I am quite sure But long after Muriel’s light breathing told him she had drifted into the land of dreams, Aruudel lay beside her staring with wide eyes into the darkness,a.nd think- ing._ » “Yes,”he said to himself, “it is a strange idea; but if they should be married, it would seem almost as if fate had promised me that my sin should go unpunishedâ€"in this world, anyway." _ It was the last week in October, a bright, clear morning, the day after Louie’s arrival in New York, and the mother and daughter were in Muriel‘s bomloir, whither they had gone direct-1y aftor breakfast, for a long, happy conversation, that pleasant talk made up of questions and answers which speedily follows the meeting of two’ relatives or inti- mate friends after a separation. “Yes, my darling. it is true. If Percy Evringham’s son and yourâ€"our daughter \vcre marriedâ€"«if the va'inghamand Anthon names were thus connected~it seems to me that it would go a. long way toward erasing the stain of blood from the Anthon “And now, mamma, we will have a long quiet talk all to ourselveh,” said Louie An~ than, dropping down on a. hassock at Muriel's feet with a. sigh of perfect contentment. “It ll so nice to be with you again, momma ; after all. there is no place like homeâ€"that is, a. home with 0. mother in it." “I grant you that, Muriel ; it is a. strange thggght." This warld? This life of love and pleasure and luxury. Arundel Anthon‘s thoughtwent no farther. - 'Muriel bent and kissed the fair face raised l0 lgvingly to hers: _ “ What makes you think of that, dear ‘3 Have you any reason to think that there is .the alightggt pctsibility of such an event tak- mp Lie paused v in deep thought ; then said, quiet “I woulu be very g. Yo see Louie and Peggy. Eyymghqp mgn and wife.” “Yes,” (very solemnly), “I have. You know how Louie writcs ? Just as she talks; and in her letter she said a great manythings in her frank, innocent Way, which lead me to believe that ’ Evringham cares more for her than," ' y idea of.” Lie paused. in deep thought ; “Oh, Russ'el?” astonishment. “But just suppose, Russel, that Louie and Percy Evringham should grow to love each other," murmured Muriel, with wide-open lovely eyesâ€"«“should love, and want to mary each other?” He laugheda. little low, unusual laugh. It was so thoroughly lke a. woman to think that if two young people are thrown together, they must, unnatural and Inevitable consequence, grow to love em other. How quietly and calmly he talked, just as though 15 was really no afl‘air of his.‘ Yet it would sesmto you or me that the memories awzikened by the mention of the name Percy Eyfingham, would be no light alfair to Ar» un’flel Anthon. ' “1 should hate to tell her,” said Muriel, musingly ; “ I think it would almos: knl‘l Loule to know her ftither’s brother was aâ€"Oh! forgive me, Russel ; I did not mean tfl‘gi‘fe you pain. It was so crueliy though};- For he had started as if in pain. T thought; had come to hun, starting keen and knife-like through his heart : What would Mfiiel say if she knew the White, shapely Ln' ; :,_L , I ~ I u 1 ‘ ‘ . . ‘. . “And you do not think there is any need of Louie’s knowing 1t, either ?” asked Muriel sb‘iu‘undecided. mm, intd which she had lovingl}; sli'figiéh hér Mvn small one, had been the one which had dealt Percy Evringham his death-blow! \Véuld the knowledge kill her, his beauulul (hiding ? she know now, dour, when you ‘have thought it best to keep it from her up t9 this rtrime ‘2“ less in me 126 say that, for he wasvyour {win brother and you loved him.” "1 am of opinion that the boy has been kept. in ignorance of the manner of his lama-’5 (hath; that 101' reasons of his owm Howard Evringhatn has never told him.” "But it seems to me that Le ought to know now," said Muriel, thoughtfully. ‘flt is not ourplace to cell him, Muriel. If he shé'mld chance to mention Louie’s name to his'grandparems, and they should think it best to tell him, well and good, but it is not our affair, my darling.” HIS SACRIFICE : 1901' Igove of Iier. dike '9" CH A P PE 1’. XXV. (CM'NXUED) CHAPTER XXVI. looking up at him in grant Yes, she would be very glad to see him. But one person can be very glld to see another without loving that other one par- ticle. “0h, mamma, the ‘Adrialic’ is in ; l’crcy Evringham will be here this evening to see me. 1 shall be so glad to see him again." The remaining days of October, th: first two weeks of November, passed swiftly and brightly to Louie Anthon. Th5 season opened goylyjt promised to be an unusutu brilliant and gay one. Theatre parties, receptions, weddings followed each other in quick succession : already the fash- ionable world had plenty with which to co cupy itself. The pleasures of saciety had not yet be- gun to pall upon Louie, she was too young forthat; she enjoyed them with a keen delight-,aud she was so inuocentlyicharming, seeminglylmcouscious of her own beauty, entirely free from all vanity; it was no wonder she was a general favorite, that; she was spoken of as the "lovely Miss Anthem." 0118 morning late in November she went running into Muriel‘s 1'0 )m, her face flush- ed, her eyes shining, a telegram sshe had just received in her hand. Aline B entwcod had changed since that day when, in the cathedral at Cologne, her own heart had been revealed to her. Many changes are wrought by suffering, and she had suflbzed just as all women sufl‘er who strive to tear out of their hearts alove that hast-oozed itself there; she was not the firstoronly one whose eyes have grown weary, whose: face has 3 own pale in the struggle. Very much relieved,--for notwithstanding Arundel’s ideas upon the subject, she could not bring herself to think calmly of her own child and murdered Percy Evringham’s son. loving each otherâ€"Muriel sank back in her chair. “1 did not think Aline looked well at all when I saw her yesterday on the steamer,” she said, changing the subject of conversa- tion rather abru tly. “ Perhaps it was only the effects 0 the voyage, but it seemed to me that she looked miserable; she was so very pale, and there was such a weary look in her eyes. ‘Vas she sick com- ing over 3’" There was no need for Muriel to ask her daughter if her feelings for Percy Evringham were any warmer than those of more friend- ship, the expression of her face; the innocent uplifting of the frank, truthful brown eyes, told very plainly that Louie spoke the truth when she said she liked him ; it was only like, nothing more. "A heavy storm overtook us the third day out, and we were all sick for a day or two; but it was not the effects of that illness that makes Aline look so pale and miserable. She has looked like that for two months at least," said Louie, sorrowfully. “ She has never complained, yet at night she moans in her sleep, and she has changed; she is not gay, bright Aline any more." "I never did think she was as strong as she looked,” said Muriel ; “probably travel- ling so constantly tired her all out : I know by experience that it is wearisome as wellfias pleasant. Don't look so troubled, dear, Aline will be herself again as soon as shefget rested.” “I hope so,” Louie said, wistfully. She loved her beautiful friend very dearly, and it had worried her more than a little when her quick eye discovered the change in Al- me. “Do I like him, mammal ? why, I like him very much indeed, better than any gen- tleman I have ever met.” “I am so anxious to have you meet him, mamma,” the girl continued. “I am quite sure you will like him, everybody likes him; there is nothing to dislike about him ; he is so agreeable and entertaining, so kind and gent'e, and so very handsome; \Ve all missed him so much after he had left us, even M r. Brentwooi said it seemed as though he took the life out of tke party when he went.” “ Louie, do you like Percy Evring- ham 7" “Oh, for somz time ; we we at dawn the Rhine together ; he travelled about con~ considerably with us, then we all went to Paris, where he was obliged to leave us and go on with his party. He did not want to F‘o with them ; he could not bear 10 go, mamma; he seemed to be so happy with us,” said Louie, innocently, all unconscious of the true reason of Percy Evringham’u happiness with, and his sorrow at leaving, the Brentwood party, “but there was no help for it. You see, he went abroad with this party of gentlemen, and it would not have been right at all for him to have left them andeome with us. as he would so much liked to have done; as it was, he spent more time with us than he ought to have dcne under the circumstances. His party would not hear of his leaving them. They will sail for home about the middle of next month, and he will stay here in New York for a little while before he goes to Baltimore, his home is there, you know, mamma ; he was born in Maryand." “Yes,I Know,” said Muriel. quickly, thinking how much more she knew of Percy’s Evringham’s life than Louie did. “Yes, mamma; and were not the cir- cumstances that led to our meeting too ridi- culous for anything ‘2 There I was on the rock, unable in move, and he, a perfect: stranger to me, had to take offmy 51106 and pull my fool: out of that horribEe little crev- ice ; it may have been romantic, but it was awfully embarrasing. Then be 'old me his name, I told him mine, and then in a mo- ment Mr. Wentworth, mv esnort, came up ; ifyou could have seen the look of horror upon his face when he tmml me talxing to a stranger,” and Lorne burst into a peal of laughter as the whole scene r036 clearly and distinctly to her memory. “ “ And it was at S:haffhauaen that you met Mr. Evringham, was it not?” asked Muriel, when Louie paused for a. moment to take breath. “Oh, we met ever so many people we knew there," said Louie ; and then she glided into a. long conversation, peaking of different: people she had met here and there, growing very eloquent and earnest as she described the various places she had vis- ited. “How’ long did he dear ‘3” attracted attention anywhere, was her own child, flesh of her flash. “ The flaces you visited, the people you met. 1 was so glad when you wrote mu that you had met; the Ridgleys in Paris.” remnn with yJu And Percy did go. There was no place in the world so pleasant to him as the An- thon house. He appreciated the warm wel- come he never failed to receive there, no matter when he went ; the bright smile with which Louie met him, Muriel's gentle, kindly greeting, Arundel’s warm hand-clasp. It is always pleasant to know you are a. wel- come guest, to have the free run of at house where every member of the family shows you plainly that they are really glad to see you ; we all know the (lilference between a. warm, sincere greeting, and a. coolly polite one. The Anthem did not seem like stran- gers to Percy, he did not feel like astranger In their house ; after a. very few visits all feeling of iormality wore away, he felt peo- fectly at home there, almost like one of the family. Scarcely a day passed that he did not spend some part of it in Louie’s society ; “You will always be welcome here, my boy,” he said, with that rarely fascinating smile which alone had made Arundel Anthon so many friends; “ there will always be a seat for you at my table; we will all of us be very glad to see you any time ; come in whenever you pap.” A strange and almost unaccountable feel- ing with regard to Percy Evringham took possession of Arundel Anthon as the days went by, and again and again the young man came to the house. Any one would reasonably suppose that the handsome Sax- on face, with its regular features and dark gray eyes, would have reminded him so powerfully of the man for Whose death he was responsible, that Arundel would have feared and hated the very eight of Percy Evringham, but it was to the contrary. It is not strange, when you stop to consider what Arundel Anthon's life had been, that his thoughts were wild and morbid, the out- growth of a. brain and heart distorted and warped. Instead of dreading to see Percy. it gave th1 a strange delight to see the handsome young fellow a. guest in his house, happy and at ease there. He liked to con- verse with him, to entertain him in the princely fashion in which it was his usual custom to entertain his friends, to have him seated at his table, eating and drinking with him, to know that Percy liked him, honored and respected him, he, Arundel Anâ€" thon his father’s murderer. It seemed to him that fate in thus bringing Percy Evring- ham into his life offered him an op ortunity toatone for depriving him of his ather by heaping friendship and kindly feeling, favor and hospitalities, upon him. Always courteous, hospitable, agreeable, Arundel had never been more friendly and gracious toanyone than he was to the son of the men who had died by his hand. He gave him the warmest invitations to come to the house whenever he found convenient and agreeable for him to do so. Muriel’s heart, too, went out towards him just as it had gone out that night, many years ago, when her wars had fallen as she thought; of the. little five year-old boy whom her husband’s erring brother had made fatherless and motherless ; for it had always seemed to her that that was a double mur- der. The blowwhich had dealt death to Percy Evringham had also laid his young wife in her grave and she felt that God held Arundel Anthon responsible for two lives. Her greeting was very sweet and gentle ; Percy Evringham thought Louie Anthon’s father and motner were very charming peo- ple. They gave him a. warm and cordial in- vitation to come to the house whenever he could, and when Louie seconded that in- vitation Percy found it quite irresistible, and that evenings visit was the beginning of many. There were striath, wild feelings in Arun- del Anthon’s breast as he looked into the face of the young man Whom he had made fatherless. Though Percy Evringham had died by his hand he had been his dearest and most intimate friend. Arunde] had loved the man he killed as he had never loved any man before or since. Looking now into the face which was so like the dead one which for so many years had been hidden from all earthly sight, the old tenderness rose within him. It was as though the years had roll- ed back, he was young again, there was no stain of blood upon his hand, the young man before him with the dark gray eyes and bean- tiful mouth, was not Percy Evringham’e son but Percy Evringham himselfâ€"his gay, handsome friend ; and Arundel‘s voice trembled as he murmured some words of kindly greeting. ' “She "will 5061i lo"; ; have not very long to wait.” Muriel and Aruudel had been out making a, call, they came in about ten o’clock, and hearing their voices in the hall Louie rose from her chair. ~ “Excuse me for amoment, Mix Evringham; I want to tell mamma and papayJu are here; I am anxious to have you see them,and them you.” She was absent from the room a tew mo- ments. When she reached Muriel and Arundcl followed her. Was it singular that the faces of both were very pale ? ery sweet and grncmus was Louie, show; ing him very plainly that she was indeed glad to see him, and he said to himself while u. grelat joy_swept over him : CHAPTER XXVH And then she looked straight up at the millions of feathery particles which were whirling swiftly down through the still air, while thoughts, light and fanciful as the snowflakes themselves, crowded into her brain. She had followcda. particularly large flake as it floated down to the ground, when her eyes fell upon Percy Evringham. He was standing on the sidewalk under the window, watching her as earnestly as she had been watching the falling snow, waiting for her to see him, a smile upon his hand- “I wonder why they are in such a hurry to get down to earth,” she thought. “Don’t they know they will be trampled under fool: until all theirbeauty and purity is lost for- as!) ever '3 One Sunday atlernoon, Just before Christ- mae, Louie Anthon was etandlng in one of the windows of the reception-room watching the white, downy-looking snow-flakes as they hurried down from the gray clouds. It was a. cold, wintry day. Since early morn» ing the snow had fallen steadily, shroudin the great city in a mantle of white. Fift Avenue, generall y thronged on Sunday after- noons With fashionable church-gears and promenaders, was almost deserted. Now and then a carriage rolled along, or a gen- tleman, with top-mat, closely buttoned and hat pulled well down over his eyes, went hurrying by. But Louie was not at all in- terested in the few pamrs by, although more than one of them cast an admirin glance up at her as she stood there. She was deeply absorbed in watching the snow- flakes as they chased each other inmad haste past the window. He had written to his grandparents about the Brentwoods. but it never occurred to him to tell them about the Anthons. He only wrote that he had met some very pleasant people, friends of the Brentwoods, who were very kind to him, at whose house he spent much of his time, and whom he liked very much indeed. So neither Howard Evringham nor his sweet white-haired Wife, in whose gentle eyes still lingered theshadow of bitter pain which had come into them years before, when, gently as they could, they had told her that her boy-the father Percy never aavwâ€"was dead, knew that the name of the family whose society their grand- son found so agreeable was one terribly fam- iliar to them both. November passed. .De- cember came, still Percy Evringham did not go back to Baltimore. Percy did not like to write letters. He considered letter‘writing a most. unmitigated bore, consequently when he found it absoâ€" lutely necessary to write one he said what he had to say in as few words as possible, without any mental rambling from the sub? ject in his thoughts. He never would wrife much about himself, the life he was leading the people he was thrown in contact with. His grandmother was wont to say in her gentle way, “I know Percy is alive when I receive a. letter from him, that he is alive and is my affectionate grandson, Percy Ev- ringham, but that is about all his letters ever tell me.” Blind, indeed, you say, was Percy Evring- ham, and blind he was, I grant you ; but no blinder than other men have been and will be so long_a.s there are men. .‘v _ “I wonder if it could possibly be that she loves some one who does not return her love, he said to himself thoughtfully,ar he walked away from the house, bearing with him the remembrance of the lovely face, with its quivering lips and sorrowful eyes. “But no. that could not be ! Aline BCUJtWOOd is too .u. u vvu la uu proud to give her hee;.;£_HI-la.â€";l‘i;d, too beauti fuljo ever love in vain.” _ “Aline, what is it that is troubling you ‘3 So many times I have noticed a look in your eyes that was not in them when I first met you. If I did not know that your life was all sunshine, I should think you were not per- fectly happy, Aline.” He saw her lips quiver pitifully as she turned her face from him, murmuring : “There are few of us in this world that are perfectly l_mppy.” A close intimacy had sprung up betwch him and Louie. It was not Miss Authon and Mr. Evrinqhem any longer, it was Louie and Percy ; and when two young people take to calling each other by their first name, it is not very long, generally speaking. before one or the other of them be- gins to conjugate that wonderful verb “ to love.” They played and sang, walked and drove, visited various places of amusement, spent hours and hours talking to each other, and though they did not discuss politics and matters of state, high art and scientific ques- tions, though their conversation was never of a very weighty nature, it was none the less agreeable and thoroughly enjoyable;a.nd Percy would have rather sat by Louie’s side in Muriel’s exquisite little boudoir and heard her give her opinion upon a chocolate bonbmz, than to have a. seat in the gallery of the Senate Chamber at W'ashing- ton,and heard the Vice-President address the House. Percy was too well bred to neglect the Brentwoods ; he went to their house very often, and Aline, crushing down the bitter pain in her heart, entertained him in her own graceful way, listened to him when he spoke of Louie Anthon, saw the flush that came upm his face when Louie’s name was mentioned, and made no sign of her own pain. Once her strength nearly forsaok her, when one day Percy, noticing the wistful expression in the great dusky eyes, the sorrowful look about the beautiful mouth, said earnestly, taking her hand in his, looking down into her face as he qukfi it was only astep from the Windsor Hotel, where he was stopping, to her home, and it was so easy to run up there in an informal way. Many mornings he would say to him- self : “ I will not go there to-day, I have been there everyday this week ; they will get tired and sick of me, I will wear my welcome out.” And While he would be wondering monmfully what he should do with himself, a messenger boy would come in bringing amessage irom Arundol. “Wald Evringhatn drive with him that nitemoon, and dine afterward at his house “I ()r, a little‘ note from Louie : l[Vould Mr. vaingham go here or there “ith her that evening ? 9n A Tuycaiuoldcr, with the punster’s mark on his brow, at dinner, asked his mother what was id 3 jar on the table. “ Pickles, my son,” was the reply. “ Then, mamnm, please pickle little one out for me,” came with stunning force from the child, and the mother fell over a chair and fainted. ,____J .._‘.~.v.u.u.n5,uyny, .uvcvs, etc. ; she even has a cake of perfumei soap, wash-rag and towel, for washing her body, and a candle nearly two toot long, which she has had ever since the war, and which is to afford light for the watchers when she is ly- ing in state. An Odd 01d Lad-Y. An old lady in Hartwell, Ga., has made all the necessary preparations for her burial, except her coffin. She has a black silk dress, all the necessary underclothing, a: cap, gloves, nl-n . ALA A._~" To make condensed milk, the milk is sub- jected to a heat of some 230 degrers, which, it is said, scalds it. Bye, new process the heat is only about 130 degrees, and the pro- duct is called evaporated milk. When the time of exposure to that moderate heat is sufficiently prolonged all the watery part of the milk is driven off, and the remnant is a tough, solid mass, creamy white in color, and much resembling a dried chunk of in heat flour dough. That is granular ed, by artific- ial meens; a l ttle fine white sugar is added to make it keep, and then it: looks like corn meal, and is corn granulated milk. The evaporated milk is only about half as near solid as the condensed milk, but is very rich, and so little aifectee by the process through which in has passed that when water is added the most delicate taste cannot detect a difl'ereuce between it ani pure natural milk; cream rises on it, and butter can be made from it. The same desirable uliar- ities belonor to the granulated mi k. The evaporat milk is used in the Nursery and child’s Hospital, and on most of the steam- shiw lines. The granulated is made to keep in allelinutev, for any desired length of time. 7 ,r,._, wane...“ bu, nuuiu round out the offending members into perfect and matchless proportions. It was simple, and contained no nauseous drugs or change of diet, no athletic evolution nastics, no modification of costume, or hints as to thick boots, long walks. early rising, copious droughts of milk or bowls of oat meal; neither was that terrible last and most fatal cure suggestedâ€"arsenic. N0, nothing but simply to go to bed every night at nine o’clock. without loss of one minute, and sleep till nine the next morning, if pes- sibie. thether the young womztu pur- chased the wished-for improvement to her arms at that pnce, we are unable to state, but the doctor probably pocketed his fee, and justly, for his advice was well worth 0‘. I , r A (Innairl-nv-LIA. consid'eriag, at lens a Vanity Will do much ; indeel, it is a: lever that can move the world when rightly applied. Vanity, then, may step in in some cases and perform what good advice or sen- sible counsels could never (lo. All doctors agree that sleep produces flesh, and a. story is told of a fashionable hysic‘an, who, when a young belle called on 1im and complained of the thinness of her arms and asked for a remedy, prescribed a course of treatment than if faithfully adhered to, would round out the offending members into perfect and matchless proportions. It Was simple, and contained nn H n V . n A _ _ 1 , . _ ,V ...v u.va uulu mu evil of “We hours, to remedy it. They can easily in‘ sist on a change, and a change for the better. The chaperones who wearily sit through “ Just one more dance” are to be pitied, but. thev um MM“..- ._ ,n (TO BE cox'rmcnn.) ~â€" wwâ€"«Ioo <0} Gownâ€"“<â€" Late Hours. There are few people who are so consti- tuted that sleep seems to them no necessity. and they can, year after year, carry on their business avoc‘tions and fulfil their sociai duties without seeming loss of health or strength, with only four or five hours out of the twenty-four devoted to rest. There are again persons who can at any moment eempose themselves into sleep. and enjoy a short nap, if only fora few minutes. The great Napoleon was one of those who, b sheer force of will. could put himself to sleep when he chose, and thereby repair the damage to health and strength that want of sufficient Jest inevitably brings. these people are, however, exceptions, and the general run of mankind really needs eight hours out of the twenty-four for sleep. In the cities and towns the desire for making quick fortunes is the real secret that underlies many of our mistakes of living. The class of persons among us who live on their income without the claims of busmess are comparitively large, and late hours that might not affect them are the same that other men differently situated are obliged to keep during the gay season ; yet the latter are under the necessity of going to business at an early hour of the morning. der that by May many young men are worn out, and stimulate on quinine and morphine, and various other preparations, so as to keep up at all. com some face, a merry look_ in A Pickled Pun. Solid Milk. 1 among us who live 8n : the claims of busmess ge, and late hours that am are the same that