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“an A. El ‘SHALLIT P R O L O G U 5. CHAPTER 1. " Storvation’s a deuced unpleasant thing, Madeline.” “ Yes, so it is.” The first speaker was a man of about thirty years of age, with a thin dark face, to whose keen eyes and clear-cut features a life of shifts had given a hungry hawk-like look. And the submissive answer came from the lips of a. woman in whom the virtue of submission was evidently not natural but acquired ; a tall massive Woman, with a commanding figurc,and a beautiful fair face whose grey eyes could look shrewd as well as soft, and round whose red lips there were already indications of future lines of resolu- tion as well as passion . Her gentle tone of sympathy jarred upon his savage, sullen discontent. ‘ “ Yes, dear, yes, dear l” be repeated im- patiently, mimicking her. “ Is that all you have to say ‘3 Don’t you know what starv- ation means?" _ , “Yes, Louis,” shesaid submissively, ris- in from the armchair in which she had been in olently sitting, and crossing the room to ,him as he sat by the table staring fixedly out of the window 7 and across the court- yard to the opposite side of the hotel. “ l't ‘means'no food and than death, doesn’t it '3" “Those are the first and the last stages, but there are many othersâ€"Worse onesâ€"in between.” ' . ‘1‘ Are there? ” she asked indifferently, as she went down on her knees beside him and laid her head softly against his shoulder. Then, as he moved impatiently, she added in a pleading voice :' I “ Don’t be angry with me, Louis, for not being frightened enough at the prolspect. By and by, when you , are , gone out and am ATS E c Eliâ€"i“. BEDONE Louis de‘ Breteuil’s reign, if short had been glorious; and the audacity of his abâ€" dication was worthy of the brilliancy .of llli throne. For, instead of Waiting until the tide of his prosperity had run out, and van- ished with debts unpaid and the reputation ofa ruined suindler, De lirctcuil ha‘d un- iiounccd his intention of visiting the hast.» which is a very vague term, and suggestive 'of the splendor with which his name was as o-iatclfâ€"had viven sumptuous farewell ' h b "" ifai paid enough of hls an. , entertainments, ‘ H ‘tb-leave the impression that it was failure of memory and not of money which caused , him to leave the rest unpaid ; had .sold his i furniture, his pictures, his horses, dismissed ; his servants, and taken his departure, leav. ing behind him a reputation bad indee l, but lfor which half the well-birn young men of Paris would have given ten years of their abortive lives. He wanted to be further away from his late acquaintances than any ship could take him : so instead of gomg to l the other side of the world he went to the other side of the Seine‘, ‘and lived the life of ’ a poor bourgeois, and} when the summer heat grew too intolerable in the little room ion the second floor, he would take Madeline for a few sous on a steamer to St. Cloud, iwithont one fear that the humble couple trudging along in the dust should be recog- ‘nised as the brilliant De Brett-nil and the lwoman whose toilettes had been envied by i very other well-dressed woman in Paris. _ If, in carrying outjhisiansformation, his temper had proved Worthy of his intellect, . De Breteuil would have been heroic; but i the feat of accommolatiug his mind, as he did his habits, to circumstances was just a. little beyond his powers, and was left to Madeline, who wore a cotton gown, made {by her own hands, with the same natural majesty which had attracted all eyes when, Sitting alon‘e here in the dark: the" list race-meeting or review, she had come shall remember what you- said, and I shall feel it and perhaps I shall cry ; but while I am with you all sad things seem to fall on my ears without any meaning, and nothing but your unhappy face can make me un- happy or secm worth troubling about. So you see, my dear husband, it is not because I am stupid that I don't mind the thought of starving; it is only that if I die in your arms I don’t care what I die of.” The man turned and examined her face in c>ld cuiious wonder. Ills passion for her had died out months ago; the. monotony of her unswerving affection bored him, and ‘ the cynical knowledge that it was entirely undeserved made him look upon the too generous giver with contempt rather than with gratitude. The extravagance of her last assertion, nhich he did not forb ind- r ment believe, attracted his attention . .“. Do‘you mean to tell me, Madeliife, that it is nothing to you whether you live on a firstfioor on the Boulevard Malesherbes, as we did three months ago, or exist like cons demued criminals in one little dingy cell with scarcely room to turn '3” And‘he glanced round the roomâ€"a. little unpretending bed and sitting-room combin- ed, which hardly deserved his savage criti« cism ; though everything in it, from the tarnished gilt clock, which did not go, to the velvet-pile carpet, whose blue roses and crizizsm leaves had lost: all their startling originality, betrayed the taste of the past. ‘ No, Louis, it is something to me Where we live, because it makesso much d fi‘erence to you.” ' . “Oh, as to that,” said he, throwing him- self back in his chair and assuming a care- less tone, “ of course it is a. mere matter of custom. If I were used to secondsfloors and clieaprrestaurants', I daresay I should like .them.”._ ’ ,5- He was not looking at Madeline, or he might have read in her face an expression of contemptuous incredulity, such as he would not have believed her capable of showing after any statement from his lips. But during the twelve months which had elapsed since her hurried marriage with Louis de Breteuil she had learnt a good many things which that gentleman prided htmself on keeping secret, and she knew perfectly well that the prosperity he had enjoyed since she first madehis acquaintance, and which had continued until three months of the present time, had been preceded by a period during wnich even second‘floors and cheap restaurants were luxuries beyond his reach. She had never dared to question him as to the sources ’of the wealth which had so suddenlycoipo to an end ; indeed, she accepted that mystery. as well as certain other facts mysterious only to her, with a V placid acquiescence proceeding partly fqom indolence, partly from ignor- ance, and partly from faith. Thus, while the ease with which the brilliant Louis had managed to obtain a. firm footing in a. certain fast but exclusive set in Parisian society was a common topic, the circumstance that it was only the gentlemen of this set whom she ever met woke no suspicion in the in‘ genuous young Englishwoman, who, belong- ing by birth to the lower middle class, was my that vague “ society," the curious improba- bility of whose sayings and doings,as record- ed in the literature of her own her own class, had often surprised her. She had a beauti- ful home, handsomer dresses than almost any of the ladies she saw at the Opera, in the Bois, or at the races, and she had Louis â€"or at least as much of Louis as his many engagements would allow. And these en- " gagements grew ever more numerous, as a man’s are apt to do as the honeymoon fades into the past. But his empire over her was too strong for her to complain ; and never having been a spoilt woman, she consoled hei self for his neglect by the pride she took I in his position. For Louis de Breteuil had taken the world of Paris by storm ;' had cut out the young Parisiaus by his skill in rid- ing, driving, love making, by the quality of his horses, the cut of his coats, the daring of his speech ; and had become the Admira- ble Crichton of the frivolous life of the boulevards. Nobody knew more about him on his first appearance in Paris than that he was a French Canadian whose fortune, left him by an uncle, was derived from oil~springs in Pennsylvania ; but the general ignorance concerning, his antecedents, his name, and his title,th weighed lightly in the balance against an unmistakable distinction of ap- pearance and manner, and a certain unaf. him as if they to deceive on any point concerl‘lg Istraight from the approving inspection of Worth. _ Now, as she knelt beside Louis‘s chair, listening to his gibcs at second floors and cheap restaurants, she looked like a queen in exile, while he seemed to have sunk al- ready to the level of his present position, and to bear the stamp of adventurer on his stooping shoulders and haggard hang-dog face. “Well, Louis,” she said, after a pause, “ we shall dine well to-day at least. I think Mr. Staunfon is rich, I am certain he is generous. I am sure we shall enjoy our- selves, and I love St. Germain.” Mr. Staunton was an Englishman who, with the freedom of a. foreigner, had gone from Paris to St. Cloud by steamer two days ago, and made acquaintancewith De Bre- teuil and his beautiful wife, and had begged them to come and dine with him when and where they pleased. St. Germain had been chosen as a place Where, in this the begin. .ning of July, they were not likely to meet ' stray Wanderers from the idle world. “Ah, yes,”aaid Louis, with some animation at the mention of their new acquaintance, “ it is gettincr near the time when he prom~ ised to call for us, You must get ready, » Madeline, andâ€"and you may make your- self beautiful oncc moreâ€"put on one of your handsome dresses you have so nobly laid aside lately ; no one .is likely to see us, and you must show your countryman what French taste can do for English beauty.” When M r.,Staunton arrived, and Madame Louis, as she was called in the hotel, swept down the stairs toward him in 9. cl )Ud of de- licate lace which showed here and there, as she moved, a fold of dainty shell- l tinted silk, the Englishman, unprepared for this transformation in the woman whose beauty had already made a strong impres- sion upon him, looked upon her with a Wor- shipful admiration which De Breteuil noted keenly. All~ through the long drive to St. Germain Louis said very little, leaving the talk almost entirely to the stranger and Madeline; but at dinner he woke up into sudden liveliness : his animation affected his companions, and Madeline, as she saw him , enjoying himself once more, grew fairer with the happiness which sparkled in her eyes and glowed in her‘ cheeks. And when dinner was over, and De Bret‘eu‘il told her to sing to them, the first soft notes that fell from her lips put them both under a spell of lis- tening sile‘nce. It was at the Pavilion Henri Quatre that they were dining; their table was drawn up close to a. window that overlooked the slop- ing hill and the quaintly-cut box and yew trees of an oldfashioned garden, Madeline sang first some lively French chansonettes, glancing from time to time at Louis with in- stinctive affectionate coquetry ; then letting her eyes wander out to the evening beauty of the landscape below, she broke into the ten- der old melody of “ Home, sweet Home,” which she sang through with feeling which kept the Englishman at least spellbound, gazing at the beautiful singer with admire. tion which was almost devotion. And still De Breteuil watched him. Madeline’s voice quivered on the, .last notes ; as she ended, Mr. Staunton’s enthu- siastic thanks almost startled her. Louis nodded to her and glanced at the door. “ Go and put on your bonnet, my dear. Mr. Staunton must see the terrace.” \Vith an uneasy glance from Louis to the stranger and back again to Louis, she obedi- ently left the room. When she returned, Mr. Staunton alone was waiting for her. The expression of easy good-humored enjoyment which his face had worn throughout the day had'dis- appeared : he looked so cold and so grave that Madeline stopped short in the door: way, and glanced round anxiously in search of Louis. “Where is my husband '3" qnic kly. “ M. Louis will join us, madame, if you will do me the pleasure of starting with me toward the terrace," said he, with curious stiffness. “He was much struck with a horse on which a gentleman has just ridden up to the hotel, and he followed it to the table to ask if it is for sale, I believe.” “Ah,” said Madeline, “animals of all kinds are my husband's passion. A horse that no- body but himself can ride, a fierce dog that nobody else dares to approach unless it is chained up, seem to understand and obey were human ; and I think she asked, fected sificerity of cynicism which dazzlecL'; Louis lov'es'thém better than if they were.” the laboriously wicked golden youth of Thel twordsshe uttered rather bitterly. 1‘11ris, forever shaving toward. an ideal of “‘ In ee'd 1” said Mr. Staunton, with grave depravity which their little Wits find as interest; and there wasashort pause, dur- hird to reach as ever anchorite found his :iaigwhich fthey sauntered on toward the ten 1 Turin for a Week. ' , “ lyrics, both thoughtful and preoccupied. l ideal of sanctity. ‘ And SK. t‘i‘s is a liitle trouble to you, this fondness oi his for animals, which takes him away from you a. good deal, perhapsâ€"riding â€";i.nd driving '3” She looked up at him in some surprise, \Yliat there had been of sternness in his face a few minutes ago had given place to a kind, and look of compassion and sympathy, which suddenly brought the tears to her eye-s and mule her stop in her walk for a few seconds. She recovered herself, and went on, involuntarily hurrying her steps a little. “ Yes »no," she answered, nervously. Then, stopping again, and looking straight in'o his face, with her frank eyes, she said : “ You ihlzlk 1 am unhappy,l see, and that] am j salons of my husband’s love for his liOl‘St-s. I am not, indeed ; 1â€" “hot makes you think I am unhappy '3" she asked, in a different tone, with curiosity and suspicion, Mr. Stauuton had stopped too, and he was answering her questioning gaze with a look as frank as her own, full of deepest pity,â€"pity that surprised, alarmed her, and brought the blood to her cheeks. He hesitatcdras if debating desperately within himself whether he should tell her sonic- thing. llut he turmd away sharply, mut- tering, in a voice too low for her to hear distinctly, “ God l Icrm‘t tell her !" “ \Vhat are you saying? What do you mean ?" Madeline asked, abruptly, alarmed, but retaining hcr dignity. Instead of answering, he asked her another question: “Have you any friends in Franceâ€"in Parisâ€"~Madame 7" “Friends? No-o ; at least, I know~â€" lknewâ€"I have met a good many people, but loan hardly call them friends.” Her hesitating answer seemed to him pathetic. lie spoke more gently than ever. “ Forgive me, madame, if I say things that pain you, I am almost old enough to be your father, and to see a. young lady so friendlessâ€"” > “Friendlcss l I have my husband,” she interrupted, sharply. “And what can a. Woman want more than agood, lovingâ€"” She checked herself. and, facing him again, asked, slowly, “ What has he been saying to you? Ah l I knowâ€"I can guess; I was afraid of that,” she faltered, in a lower voice, losing her selfcontrol. “ He told you that, now we are poor, we shall have to live apart for a time, (lid he not? He has hinted it to me, but never dared to say it outright; he is so afraid of wounding me, poor fellow I Was it not that 27” Mr. Staunton did not answer. “ You are very fond of him ‘2" he asked, after a. short silence. “ 0 yes.” The reply was given in such a low voice that it sounded like a soft sigh. “Ah! And he is very fond of you, of course. Don’t be angry with me for my impertinence~â€"or What you, no doubt, con- sider my impertinence.” “ 0 no, indeed I don’t,” broke in Made- line, with a shrewd, unmirthful little laugh. “ I know the world and the people in it bet- ter than you think. There are gentlemen, friends of my husband, whom I have to re- ceive and talk to, whose very look is an im- pertinence ; and I have learnt to be discrim- inating. I will listen to whatever you have to say. I will answer any questions you like, for I know that you are kind, I know that you arergood.” Mr. Staunton promptly took advantage of her permission, and said simply, “ You have been married ‘before, madam ‘3" " She looked rather astonished, but agi- swered at dncez‘ ‘ v I” “Yes. Three years Idgo, when I was nineteen, and a teacher in a school, I mar- ried a man named Meredith.” She paused ; but as her bearer was evidently much in- terested, continued: “He was a clerk on the Stock Exchange. He was not kind to me: he drank, and neglected me, and wanted me to go on the stage, which I thought was wrong, so I would not go; and he complained thatI was hard and cold and selfish, though that was the only P thing in which I would not obey him. And. then, when we had been married eighteen months, he disappeared ; and by that time,” she went on naively, “ he had made me so very unhappy that 1 did not try very hard to find him. And then at lastI learnt that he was dead, and I married M. de -â€", I mean my present husband, and he brought me over to France, and then for the first time I learnt what it is to be happy." “ And you are sure your first husband is really dead ‘1" aaked Mr. Staunton slowly. “ Oh, yes. I saw the announcement in two papers, and I heard all about it from Louis besides.” r “ From Louis, your present husband, you say '2” significantly. “ Yes ” But there was no suspicion in her eyes, and again Mr. Staunton found himself unable, voluntarily, to call it up there. , He looked away from her for a min- ute, and then said, “And so you are afraid that soon you may be forced to seperate for a time '3" “ 1â€"1 am afraid so,” tremulously. least, Louis has hinted that.” “And what will you do? “ I don’t knowâ€"yet. But I have been used to earn my own living, and I have learnt some French, and I am not at all a helpless woman. And, with the thought of helping to form a. home some day for Louis and me, I feel that I shall get onâ€"yes, fur- ther than seems possible now,” said she, with a quiet bright resolution with deepen- ed alike Mr. Staunton’s pity and his admir- ation. “ I quite believe that ; I am sure you would meet any trial, no matter how severe,” said he, with emphasis, “in the most courageous and high hearted manner. But the world is very hard for women, and althou h I know that many brave girls do strugg e on alone and successfully, still the battle is much less hard if they have friends in whom they can trust. Will you trust in my friendship 7" Madeline fixed her long gray eyes thoughtfully upon his face. She was an ex- perienced judge of faces, and a very short examination of the kind brown eyes, iron- gray beard, and the lines and furrows worn by nothing bascr than time or trouble, satis- fied her. “Yes,” she answered simply. “ Very well. Then I will give you my private address in England.” He had taken some letters out of his pocket, and having found a spare half«sheet of paper, was writing on it with a pencil. “ And, in case you should want any help or any ad- vice sooner than you expect, I will let you know just where I shall be for the next fort- night. You see," and he gave her the paper, “ that for the next few days I shall be at Lyons, and after the 8th I shall be at I should like to be able to stay a few days longer in Paris, but I am (l a stockbroker, traveling with valuable securities which I must deliver in Turin by the 95h : and I have some business to do in Lyons befozc then.” “ You are a stockbroker l.l “ Don‘t look so shosked ; I am not one of the very worst.” “ Oh, no, no: butâ€"-” “ Ah, of course. Your first husband was in a stockbroker-‘3 office, you say; Mere- ditli. I think you said his name was. Isâ€" was he on the House himself 2" “ Yes, [believe so. Yes; I am sure of it.” “ Is mt that M. Louis on the other side of the Hull 2” They had turned, and were walking back tow-Md the hotel. Madeline had time for more questions before they rejoined him. “Have you any daughters, Mr. Stann- ton ?” “ No. thirtccn. ” “ You are very fond of him '2" u Very, Tl‘ncy say I worship Gerald." “ Gerald Stauuton,” she repeated softly. “ I wonder if I shall ever meet him '3" “ I hope so. In the mean time, remem- ber, if you are in any difficulty, write to me; I am a. widower, and have no one to interfere with my correspondence. lfyou want my presence I will come, if I can.” Madeline glanced in terror at Louis, who had inarvcllously sharp ears. But as they Ci‘OSsed the road slowly to where he was standing, cigar in mouth, looking at the sun- set between the trees, he did not appear to see or hear them. S'.e said hurriedly to her companion, in a low voice. “ I cannot thank you; I am sure don‘t expect to be thanked, for you are good because you cannot help it. But I have been praying God that some day I may meet your darling son, and be able to do ~him some kindness or some service to show you I am grateful. I know I am not likely to have the chance; and it sounds silly to tell my feeling, doesn't it '3” she added timidly. “ No, my dear young lady. No man can have too many friends, and i am thank- ful to have made another friend for my boy,” said he kindly. Madeline felt, when Louis became aware of their approach, and they all walked back to the hotel, that there was an awkward constraint between the two men; and this feeling grew so strong during the return drive that she felt quite relieved when the Victoria stopped at the porte-cochere of the dingy third-rate hotel where she and Louis were staying, and when, with a warm pres- ure of the hand, Mr. Stannton looked into her face kindly and gravely for the last time. She did not notice his parting with Louis, for something in the Englishman's pitying face had suddenly woke a rang of horror and fear in her heart that made her turn quickly away and hurry up-stairs. She reached her room, lit a candle, and pored over a half-sheet of scrawled addresses almost reverently With glistening eyes. Suddenly the paper was taken from her, and, looking up with a cry, she saw Louis, who examined the scrawl carefully, and then folded it up and put it in his packet. Then, still without speaking, he got a. writ ing-case, placed it on the table before her, drew the inkstand forward, and put a pen her hand. “ Now write What I tell you,” said he very gently, laying his hand upon her shoulder. “ My dear sirâ€"" She wrote obediently, with trembling fingers. “ Can you fulfil your promise, and come and see me ‘3 I would not trouble you, but my need is urgentâ€"and it has indeed come soon, as you prophesiedâ€"” dictated he. She wrote the first few words in stupid, timid, unreasoning submission. But as he spoke the words, “ My need is urgent,” her hand stopped. As soon as he noticed that she was not Writingâ€"for her eyes were fixed on the op- osite wall as he arranged the sentenceâ€" “ \Vell, go I have only one childâ€"a boy of you he shook her by the shoulder. on, go on.” Then she turned her head slowly and in fear, and looked up into his face in heart sick wonder. “ What does it mean? What is it for, Louis?" she asked, in a. husky guttural voice. “ Never mind. Write as 1 tell you.” She hesitated a moment more, shaking from head to foot. Then, with a great sigh, as if she found it‘hard to draw breath, she wrote. “ \Vhat a scrawl, my child! Never mind. Now sign it, ‘ Madeline.’ ” She did so, and he passed the blotting paper over it, took it from her, wrote one word at the top of thewpageâ€"it was the name of a place she had never heard ofâ€"folded it, put it into an envelope, and dictated the direction: “ M. Staunton, Hotel Collet, Lyons.” She made one out cry as he put the pen again into her hand. “ 0 Louis, for God’s sake tel. me What it means 3” “ It is all right, you shall know presently, my darling,” said he. “ Now you are tired ; you had better go to bed at once. IOcame up without finishing my cigar; I think I must run down and have one in the court yard.” “Louis-one moment I don't under- stand. You must have overheardâ€"” He laughed as he patted her shoulder good~humoredly. “ Well, I confess it. When I went to join you. I felt a. little jealous to see how well you and the English- man seemed to be getting on together ; so I followed you pretty closely, and you know I have sharp ears ; and when I saw you al- most whispering to him as you came toward me, I thought to myself that I would play you a little trick to puzzle you, and punish you for exchanging so much as the shadow of a confidence with any one but your hus- band.” ' He gave her a long has which filled the loving woman’s eyes with light and life. But through all the happiness which his unusual tenderness woke in her, she did not forget to Whisper, “0h Louis, thank God, thank Godl You need never, never be jealous with me. And your pun- ishment was too hard. That noteâ€"Iâ€"I don’t know what mad fancies it filled me with l" And he laughed at her and kissed her again; and she clung to him and forgot everything else for the moment in the joy of feeling his reviving tenderness. But when he had gone down-stairs for his cigar, ugly misgivings would rise again to trouble her. (To BE CONTINUED.) â€"â€"â€".â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€" £0,000 Socialist pamphlets were delivered throughout Berlin by women, who did the work so quietly that they were not noticed. She Couldn’t l‘nder’aad It. “ What in the world has happened to you since the last time I saw you 2” asked one lady of another when they met on the street the other day ; “ I can‘t understand it. Then you Were pa'e, haggard and low- spirited, and I remember you said that you hardly cured whether you lived or died. Today you look ever so much younger, and it is Very m'ident from your beaming face that your low spirits have taken flight.” “ Yes, indeed," was the reply ; “ and shall I tell you what drove them away ‘? It was Dr. I’ierce‘s Favorite Prescription. I was a martyr to functional derangement until I began taking the ‘ l’resiription.’ Now I am as well as I ever was in my life. 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Microscopic research, however, has rovod this to be a fact, and the result is that I simp a remedy has been formulated whereby catanh, oatarrhal deafness and hay fever are cured in from one to three simple a pllcatlone made at home. A pamphlet explaining 's new treatment is soul has on receipt of stamp by A. H. Dixon 8 Son, 308 King Street West Toronto. Canada. There is something very Irish about the Germans. They speak of a. gentleman as Herr, instead of him. A GENEROUS COMPANY.-A beautiful pre~ sent will be given by the Breadmakers Yeast Company, of Toronto, to nearly every one, as long as they lastâ€"first come first served, The most accomplished woman has still something worthy to be added to her list if she has never yet made a. good sweet white loaf of bread. To encourage the an: of Home Bread-making this Company have secured ten thousand presents, which will be sent to all who comply with their terms. They want all who are old enough either to follow directions or work under instruc- tions, to learn how to make bread. They will take your word for it when you have succeeded to your own satisfaction in using their Hop Yeast, and write them to say so, enclosing a wrapper of a five cent package of THE BnmnMAknns’ YEAST, when they will send in return a lovely gift. This of. for is open to any young lady, girl, single or married woman, matron or housekeeper, who has never before made a loaf of bread. Any person having domestic charge of a household who is not n0w baking for the family, and who will commence by using their yeast. and who will send to them the wrapper of a package, and write to that ef- fect, will receive a still better class of gift than that above offered. Better yet: any one at present making their own bread, us- ing their own or other yeast, but who will buy a five cent package of the Breadmakers' Yeast from any grocer or storekeeper, and, after using, will write and say that their Yeast is Superior, they will believe heralso, and will astonish that lady by return mail with a lovely gift. You must get the yeast from your own grocer. Don’t send money to the Company direct. It hasn‘t yet been definitely settled at what age an unmarried female becomes a. chestnut. Free! Free! ! Free! !! A Book of Instruction and Price List on Dyeing and Cleaning, to be had gratis by calling at any of our offices, or by post by sending your address to R. Parker &. 00., Dyers andCleaners, 75,9 to-763 Yonge St., Toronto. Branch Offices: 4 John St. N., Hamilton ; 100 Colborne St., Brantford.