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he could fathom the dep'th of her suffer- ing. and, having fathomed, would not mouse her of exaggeration in her grief. He was apart from and unlike all the. others. §he thoughtâ€"save. indeed, Con- Itantia, who had proved herself beyond doubt a, friend. "I am glad to see you," he said. gravely. He took her extended hand, and pressed it gently. He had consider- ed what he would say to her before com- ing in; but now all his eloquence for- aook him. as he gazed into her mourn- ful eyes, and noted, with a, wondering pain, the changes that one short month of anguish had wrought upon her face. She was pale, hollow-eyed. hopeless. Her nights had been spent in weeping. her days in consuming regret “Grief filled the room up of her absent child," and whitened her lips, and made tremuâ€" 10115 the beautiful hand that used to be so softly firm. "You have been away." she said. "Not, so far that I could not hear of you. I managed to get some news every day." His bronzed. lean face flushed, and be looked down at his hat. "Sad news," he said. very gently. "It is a month toâ€"day," returned she, in! a tone so low that he could scarcely hear her; and then all at once her for- titude forsook her, and she covered her face with her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. Before all her other visitors she had compelled herself to a calm, the strain of which upon her aching heart was terrible; but before this man, who was, after all, but a. stranger to her, her strength failed, the tears sprung forth, and as they ran her heart was eased, her spirit knew relief. "Speak to me of it," said O'Grady, in his musical, cultured voice, through which a touch of the old ineradicable brogue, rich, and soft, and tender. ran unrebuked. "Ah, what is there to say," said she, "but that I have lost my all? I am a creature bereft of every good. When last you saw me, there was at least hopeâ€"a. stricken one, perhapsâ€"but now th9£¢._i§.n9_thing-"- . - “Still tell me” of it," he urged. "To speak will do you good, “Give sorrow words.’ They tell me you are unde- momtrative, strangely silent. Surely that m not wise." “Surely there are many thingsâ€"in- ferior to that one great treasure gone, but still of use." "There is nothing," she said, stonily. “The child is dead!” She had fallen back unconsciously into that old froz- en manner of hers, so that he was able to jud e of the apparent unconcern of which er neighbors accused her, Don- na alone excepted. But then he had declined to discuss the matter with Mrs. Dundas, and had openly avoided her pretty attempts at amnesty, much to that seductive matron's amusement, amdfla little to her chagrin. "\Vho shall forbid you to dwell up- on that sad fact 7" said be. "But; I would have you regard it in a. different spirit. Surer life is not altogether barren, so entirely bereft of joy, that you should thus give up all your best years Ato a. sorrow uncontrollable." "It is a simple thing to you to give advice like that," she said, with a. faint touch of reproach in her gentle voice. “But youâ€"you have not known." "Yes, yes, 1 see. I know what you would say." He spoke quite hum- bly now, and leaned toward her. “’Every one can master a grief but he that has it.’ Yes, that is vntirely true. But I did not come here to trou- ble you, only to help you; and now, almost in the beginning I have. gone completely wrong. Yet"â€"â€"he paused, and looked at her reflectivelyâ€" “I 'would be of some good to you if I could." "They have told you more than that." She lifted her large. heavy eyes to his, and looked at him fixedly. “They have told you I am cold, unfeelingâ€"a very stone! I confess that is what I have felt at timesâ€"a stone. \Vhat is there to reuse for? To show love or longing?" ._ "I know it. I know that,” she cried, a little wildly. “But who can help me? ‘My grief lies all within.‘ It destroys me as it grows. And every moâ€" ment seems to add a. cubit to its sta-l tum." She rose, and swept by him, the deep crape of her gown seeming to add a certain intensity to her woe. She walked up and down the room in silence for a. minute or two, and then burst forth again, as though si- lence was torture to herâ€"she. who be- 11:0." 5116 rose, and swept by him, the deep crape of her gown seeming to add a certain intensity to her woe. She walked up and down the room in silence for a. minute or two, and then burst forth again, as though si- lence was torture to herâ€"she. who be- fore his coming had felt silence her only security. "It is all here," she said, stopping with some abruptness before him. and laying her hand upon her heart. "Day by day the ache grows keener. Itavill lull me soon, I trust." “Consider!” he said. rising in his “Consider?!” he isaiidr. rising in his tug'n with abruptness to his feet. "Yew thmk only of your grief. There are othersâ€"" He checked himself passion- gtely. . “There is no one," she said for myelf I do not care. I ha hardly used. 1â€"" She pause pgruggled with herself for con "I aEEedâ€" I Hemaudedâ€" Iâ€"Vf pray‘evd upon my bendqd knees all night gm] half my days, that that one thmg LORD KILLEEN’S REVENGE. CHAPTER XXXII a. I have been paused, and for composure. â€" _I_â€"- _I prayed And should be granted me by Heaven. That one poor little life I wrestled forâ€"n0 more, no moreâ€"but it was denied me! ‘Vhy should I be thankful, grateful, as they tell me 1 should be, for life itâ€" self, when its sweets are dragged from my very arms ?" _ She appealed to him with large, mis- erable eyes. and hands outstretched. Her heart seemed full to overflowing. O'Grady, by a gentle movement, led her to her chair and compelled her to re- seat herself. She was so wasted. so worn a thing that he feared excitement for her. When he would have released her hand she still clung to it in girl« ish. imfiloring fashion, and so he sat beside er holding her palm in his, without a suspicion of passion. or any- thing less sad and scared than her dire affliction. _ r . O‘Grady rose to bid her fareWell. Now a sense of shame, of humiliation was full upon him. That he, the man' of the world, careless of most things, should have dared to open out to this sweet saint a suggestion of a. higher life, seemed presumptuously absurd. He bent over her hand and tried to murmur something of what he felt, but she did not hear him. i “You will come again," she asked, anxiously. She looked quite beautiful in the dying sunset, in her long crape robes, with that wrapt expression on her face, and O‘Grady found himself lowering his eyes guiltin before hers. There was no doubt of the sinâ€" cerity of her desire to see him again. To see him, however, fre- quently, would in all probability be nothing to her, would not lead her on one pin's point beyond the spot on which she stood; but with him, how would it be? To be near her often, to grow familiar with those sweet eyes, and parted dipsâ€" He pulled himself together with a little start, and took her hand and said "Good-bye“ in as orthodox a. fashion as was possible. "Thank you. I shall have few plea- sures so desirable as this you have of- fered me," he said, smiling pleasantly. He did not hold her hand the eighth part of a minute, though he knew he w_0l_11_d have. given e good many years of his life to ha He got through however. and p1 outside the door thingsâ€"that? he I self. and that her selffand that t until the porti sight. It was close on midnight. Mrs das was at home to-night, and acor able portion of the county was at with her. Her eveniu s were ciently_ attractive, wit the touch of foreign manner that through them, and the vague, de sense of something forbidden th‘ underneath the outward respect â€"and that might at any m break into a fuller lifeâ€"to draw t all the younger portions of the CA nity, and with them, of cours heads. There was always a litt] sic at these reunions, very good; was also a, little conversation, go‘ though decidedly badâ€"strange doxl But of course this belong the few, and the junior members nothing of it. There was a dam a delfghtfully desultory ended in prolonged half he! scented conservatories; am of snug, cozy little apar led off the drawing-room cards. A gentle manipulation on of the hostess had driven a erly squires and their spn were addicted to a. mild wln sixpenny points into one of t the other was reserved for game. in which she herself 5 ed to take part. The excite CH AFTER XXXIII ave given a good many years £3 to have held and kissed it. through the ordeal very well, ,_ and presenLly found himself pe: lose on midnight. home toâ€"night, and n of the county we Her evenings . mild whist with its :0 one of these rooms; served for a livelier a herself seldom fail- The excitement of it IlSL ions of only two or. betrayed him- had followed him hidden him from E héurs hi shady, and in a couple apartments that n the part 111 the eld- mses, who there were sort little mu- )od; there , good too ers'. knew ancmg of licious {hat with Mr. Dundas. Lately, sure had failed her a lit gtriven to entice it back mg for bolder and hem As the clock chimed rose from the table a er. For a. respectable game. the loss was In er. For a respectable country-house game, the loss was indeed altogether beyond bounds. She lost grincipally to Featherston, who, since t at affair at the masked ball, had been, she felt, her avowed enemy. His silken manner, and the scru ulousness of his behavior generally, di not deceive her as to the t that he had not, and never would, forgive her. That little deception about the cross on the shoulder of the domino had rankled in his mind, and bred, and borne bitter fruit. She rose from the table this man's debâ€" tor to a. considerable degree; she rose smilin , however, though 'she hardly knew gow she was'to pay him. To ap- peal to her husband would, of course, produce a. sum required without a sec- ond's hesitationâ€"a hundred and fifty would be little or nothing to himâ€"but Mr. Dundas had a prejudice against high play in his own house. and Donna felt it would bean act of folly to betray to him the fact that she. the mistress of it, had been the one to lead the 'hall inthat direction. High play he abhor- red as a vulgarity, an unpardonable betise when committed beneath one's own roof. At one’s clubâ€"why, yes. In that lay all the difference: that was every man's ground, the other was his ground onlyâ€"and hers. She beat the ground a. little angrily Wlth her foot as she comprehended all this, but she smiled so sweetly as she did it that no one noticed her irritation, except Featherston. He followed her to the door, and in the vestibule beyond that led to the drawing-room, laid his hand lightly on her arm. “A moment," he said. so delicately that it might have deceived any one save her. _"As many as you will." she said, a little shar 1y; sharply. too, she shook his hand rom her arm. “But if you have anything to say, say i: as quick- 1y as may be; I am wanted in the drawing-room. ' “I am sure. wherever you may be. you are always wanted somewhere else." replied he, quavely. "Yet that fact,l it appears, did not occur to you unti â€"" "I found I was in a. luckless vein," interrupted she, impatiently. "Is that what you would say‘i' Have no fear, sir," she looked at him with an inso- lence not to be surpassed, "you shall be aid.” " ou mistake me," he said. with a. smile that chilled her; “the debt is on my side. I owe you that which Ifear I never can repay.“ She hit her lip. and then burst out laughing. _ “Ah! that absurd affair about the dominoes." she cried, gayly. “Did it hurt so much. then? Was the pretty Constantia ruffled? Has she been re- lentless since? Is that your grievance? Truly, my dear Featherston, you must have lived in an ideal World up to this to take so much to heart so mild a sling of the outrageous fortune that threat- ens us all hourly. The thought of a moment should not so affect you." “How, then? If I mistakenot. Your impassioned syllables that night were meant for me; I did not reoeiYe them â€"-â€"true; and if she did. why, it Openâ€" ed her eyes. that is all." "For that-opening I have You to thank." For the moment hIS courteous calm Iorsook him, and his words came with a disagreeable force from Re- tween his lips, and his eyes flashefii; A It was a. studied deception," he said. You lied to me. . :‘An ugly word, my friend." Sald She, With a pale smile. , .. "It is possible you heard. it before. returned he. She made in impatient movement th‘ft brought her more beneath the influenw of the swinging lamp that hung "1 the vestibule. It caught her now, and ht up her red hair into a brighter glory. and showed the glitter _01 her lovely eyes. and the alabaster whiteness of her skin. Her arms were bare [mm the shoulders, and exquisitely molded“ and the hands clasped beneath were clinch- ed angrily. . n .d “You speak to. me of morality,“ 53‘ ' she, in a low, mocking tone. _ You who felt no qualms about maklilg love to another man's wife, even \Vhlle Y9ur heart was given to a young and 811119‘ less girll You!" She thre\_v_ up“ 11.9? "It was the thought of mapy mo: ments. You purposely decelved me, you have done me a wrong not to be undone!" He pal gather from I ished, had Slipp.’ real man nakedâ€""t your in heart. 1 ed as a star w necessity arisen. have flung you by your evil m to me." Another woman be might have shown v ure, and so given joy Donna knew better. chair near her, and gave way to that noiseless, irritating laughter of hers. It was hardly acting on her part; she was honestly amused. The man’s con- oeit was so entire; his belief, that he was galling her by his declared prefer- ence [or another. so earnest. When her silent mirth had come to {in end, she sighed as if in sorrow for 1t, and looked up at him. to grow once more diverted by the indignant anger more. (1w on hls f: ceptional should c )m him a. sort :5 thro deeme( ., am with “.156 ythat absurgi affair about the s." she cned, gayly. "Did it ‘muchhthenl VVa._s the pretty ed the; dullne and made he] emotionless 1 "Lhz‘ ima , she ultivat of stimulant th bins:- and her bIa 1th 1t mstaptu} 1r w1thm enom writu )n his rathe the mask L an: 1ispla hanting. You 3.] cried, lightly. a an air like that thin a cloud. Had the I. would at any time islde for her; and now. whinations. she is lost gs, hOpl gs, [gut moment (1 then 1 com. so her almo s life she £1.11 for one m we hers even this ttle, and st all over lo at your tel 11‘ famous nopiug all )ul; 1 tell ant as thw n the vene soft tween 31' ' stakés mldnight country-house ed altogether principglly t9 onceE leneu in open low bro at set the ne )ll are aet he aflame cent van- face with pen char- brow. He 2, and the AC. stood ament from elg n- atent wit 11 Meat things. you,._ )ugh_ t9 said, You! [ell did 1111‘ the xlt for I be. state there you you At this momfint two entered the room, and tqgeih'er at the lower en who was equal to mos lowered her voice witl effort, and bestowed a therston, warm with U)! liness. Featherston, howeve care for the morrow. ".Teer as you will," he .Teer as you will," he said, in a tone distinctly incen<ed, "I shall always-” “To rave in a crowd is to feel small in HF morning." she put in easily, still with her charming smile. “In spite of you I befriend you, you see." "From this hour there is no friend- ship l)etween us," returned he, with a frown, but his voice was lowered. and that was all she wanted.. ‘ n are, callmg thing. I much time utes run w Luau iku an. »,...V . ____.., "As you will." she said, sweetly. smiling downa yawn very successful- ly indeed. “Ah!” as her own name came to her from a room near. "there they are, calling upon me to sing them some- thing. I fear I have iiven you too much time already. But ow the min- utes run when spent in the society of one thoroughly appreciated! I must glrag mysell away. There are the ex- Lgencies of the hostess to be remember- erl. I have too long neglected them be- muse." with a brilliant glance, “of "As you will." she s smiling downa yawn ve ly indeed. “Ah!” as her 0‘ to her from a room nea. are, calling upon gas; to 51 cause." you. [t the few de chords th then her v air she was half. life, h a surely com'u would have1 suited to her! "Sunny flowers and bird songs meet For one with love low at her feet, So fond. so sweet! Wintry Here are “Long she watched the through. Blossoms Wlthered, songâ€"h‘iId Blossoms fiihered, songâ€"birds flew. Eheu! Night, like day, comes soon or late; Here. black-mantled, creeps dark fate; Hope is dead, now mourns its mate." She sung it in a. rather whimsical fashion, and rose laughing from the piano. She resisted their entreaties to sing again, and passed through them with a light and playful touch here and there, disappearing from amongst them almost before they knew she was gone. ~. L ____££LI... LIAâ€"A..-L £LA Inn], Death, 6 She went swiftly through the toward a small room that opened 'it, and that was half library, half doir. It was an inspiration of her and 'she dalinghltefi in it. .Np one doir. It was an inspiration of her own, and 'she delighted in it. No one en- tered it wilhout her permission. and a balcony running outsrde the windows of it was connected With the one that led to the dancing-room. and also with another room cf hatsâ€"one more private stillâ€"in which the lastgreat act of her life was played. She walked swiftly to the windows, saw that they were fast- ened, and pulled the curtains closely across them. She had ponciled a few words upon a. card. and given it to a footman, and now stood in the center of this. her favorite room. awaiting the answer to .it. It came quickly. Lord Varley pushed open the door, and ad- vanced eagerly toward her. The young physician was tired when he returned from his evening's calls, but as he settled back in his easy chair, and his pretty wife of only a. month or two took a, seat beside him. he asked affectionately : "And has my little wife been lonely 9“ "Oh. no,” she said animatedly; "at least, not very. I've found something of young girls and married women are in It, and we're exchanging experiences and teaching each other how to cook." “What do you do with the things you cook ?" he asked interestedly. “Oh. we send them to the neighbors just to show what we can do. There's one lodging house gets most of it. It's great fun." “Dear little woman," he said, leaning over and kiming her. "Always thought- ful of your husband‘s practice. Al- ways anxious to extend it." uniqu Mrs. Minks (severely)â€"“ is an account in the papal iness man leavmg his wife off. with a pretty type-W] Mr. Minksâ€"“IndPed.” “Yes, and it's the thir writ the kind I've “That does "It; does all ll Indeed!" be ‘Oh, 1111.011 young glrls 1t, and we'r fulfilled with joy what 3P0? at doesn't int does me. You. 1‘ girl in your >, we haven't. her last week new her touch ' delicately yet that preluded 3r voice broke was absurdly it e, half gloom: j v coming; despa A THOUGHTFI sh: 1t ason in .t very myself d '." he {EDI lasts can come storms, and slee lik _bestowed a smile on Feaâ€" arm with the kindest friendâ€" an th You (To Be Continued.) [N mgnver e lsn't urchas NO DANG with." satld: znlzmg summer 15' is your thi u‘fice.” My partner 81 mut or {111‘ $6 lightâ€"so free! tha L \VIFE. \Vh If .1ny art; ood chit! Mrs. Dun emergem : and 119.1110! me you as beyond 3.11 1t about aim: and runniu ter girl.” pretty type- Lass. A lot “’0an are experlgnqes 1nd (ha isit S umme 1‘ snow, ming limit th that on nent mat of and yple in g hall from bou- there 3 bus- Sorrowx and Humor: or IIN‘ lo It in Earl“ ('ou ulate themselves that they dlt’llll. have the experience that befell some 4‘31) Merrymakers there about ten days ago. With its forty cars, each carrying its full compliment of passengars. th~ big wheel stopped suddenly. From 8.3) in the evening until ] o’clock the next afternoon most of the passmgers were kept high up in the air, while their friends on the ground shouted encour- agement and sent up food by means of a rope. A similar accident Occurred to this wheel a year ago. and the Eng- lish newspapers dismissed it with brief mention. There was more humor than danger inithe situation, and the Lon- don newspapers missed both. The ex- periences of the passengers who were in the big wheel a week ago when it stopped were decidedly uncomfortable. When the cry went up. "THE WHEEL HAS STOPPEDI" and th there were thousands of people enjoy. ing the attractions of the Empire of India exhibition and listening to the bands in the brilliantly lighted gar‘ dens. A rush was made from all parts of the grounds to the wheel. The peo- ple_found the electric-lighted cars with their occupants halted high in the air. The women in them raised an outcry and their friends on the ground yelled back encouragement. It was impossi- ble to repair the damage to the wheel so that the cars could be lowered be- fore daybreak, and every effort was put forth to make the prisoners in them as comfortable as they could be under the circumstances. The night was cool and few of the women in the cars were provided with wraps suitable to such exposure at an altitude of _300 feet. The restaurant attached to the exhibition was kept open all night. and to the cars to which a rope could be thrown food was sent. The staff of attendants upon the wheel is composed in the majority of instances of old seamen. Two of these clamhered round the rim of the Wheel. carrying with them ropes, by means of which baskets of provisions were drawn up. The occupants of one of the cars, however. were the first to secure communication with terra firma. the re- sult of an ingenious thought of Miss F. Landsdale. of Chester terraw. This young woman possessed a. reel of cot- ton, and carefully lowering it from the Window of the car in which she was un- prisoned a stout string was attached. This, upon being drawn up. brought a. rope. to which was attached a. basket containing LIG There were women in the cars who called down frantically that the wheel. must be moved because it was neces- sary for them to get home that night. Some of these who were imprisoned threw down messages on slips of paper to be sent to their friends rwh_o___might The sailors already referred to after- ward res, -hed other Occupants. although _some of the cars were out, of their reach, in cqnsequenca of their swinging out- be waiting for them. Several of the en- forced imprisonments might have had. awkward sequels had not the managers of the wheel gladly given certificates to the effect that the bearers had passed the night in the air because of an ac- cident. The break was repaired at 1 in the afternoon. Before that time many at the passengers had been brought down by means of chairs attached to ropes. When the wheel was in working orden again the remainder of the passengers were liberated. The London newspapers refer to the "generosity" of the man- agement in providing a breakfast for 15119:: passengers after they got back to ear . The heart that has once been bath- ed in love's pure fountain retains the pulse of youth forever.â€"Landor. Cowardice is not synonymous with’ prudence. It often happens that the better part of discretlon is valor.â€" Hazlitt. Those who are formed to win gen- eral admiration are seldom calculated to bestow individual happiness.â€"-Lady Blessington. Never write anything that does not give you great pleasure; emotion is eas- ily propagated from the. writer to the reader.â€"J oubert. Kind words prevent a good deal of that preversnness which rough and um perious usage oiten produces in gener- periou§ usage ous mlnds.â€"1 WHEN THE BIG WHEELS For the infinite has sowed his name in the lessons in burning stars. but on earth he has sowed his name in tender. flowersâ€"Richter. The universal and absolute law is that natural justice which can not be written down, but which appeals to the hearts of a11.â€"Victor Cousin. Many hooks require no thought from those who read them, and for a simple reasonâ€"they made no; such (jernand up- For in th‘ earth flowe The on those w] \Vhen all sneaks of 1: cusations e¢ his [)1 I neve: equal t8! only one sinning, I third 1n To be idle and to be f{mot have al- ways been reproaches; an, therefore ev- ery man endeavors with his utmost care to hide his poverty from others and his idleness from himself.â€"Johnson. have thin {bring but hot waLeI because he has to che the time to make m2. eaks of h11n_selt \ncnouc 1058; ms au- sations of himself are always believ- . his pralses nevusâ€"Montaigne. I never drink. I can not do it on ual terms with others. It costs them 1y one day, but me threeâ€"the first in ming, the second in suffering, and the ird 1n repenting.â€"â€"Sterne. To be idle and‘to be p99r h_a.ve al- A POOR BOARDINGâ€"H01 Miss de Pinkâ€"“1 will be, so g PEARLS OF TRUTH. 1n HT REFR 116 is su made no wrute t1 Lssengers, m 15'. From 8 o’clook the 5 passenger: air, while 1 shouted e food by me ESHMENT and the ‘d it with )re humor End forua simple such demand up- em.â€"-Colton. 'qu. .now time absolute law is vhich can not be ch appeals to the 70mm. no thought from 3.!) muhm m1 burn real coff ant ) glad when and he can m pever ; hls_ao- s benev- suppose." he must be any- e‘halt