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. cried, “Heaven bless the good lady of _ before the cheerful fire. CHAPTER XXXVIII. A year and a half had passed away, and Vivien Neslie was once more firm- ly established ' at Lancewood. She had fallen inItc an even method of life that never varied. To keep up the hospitality of the Abbey, she gave grand entertainments. but they dif- fered greatly from the gay revels held by Lady Neslie. Mothers with young daughters no longer refused invita- tions to Lancewood; on the contrary, they were eagerly sought after and an entree there was a passport every- where. Miss Neslie was no advocate of wo- man's rights; she had no idea of stand- ing on a platform and delivering va- pid lectures; she would have declined the study of medicine, except so far as it was common; she laughed at the notion of lady-barrister. Neverthe- less, in spite of all this, she took a keen womanly interest in politicsâ€"in all social matters. She could discuss the probability of the return of a new member, the best plan for model cot- tages, what Was really needed‘as re- garded the improvement of the lab- orer's condition. the most approved school buildings, the prospects of the crops, with equal facility. « She was one of the women essentiâ€" ally born to command. She would havo been lost in an inferior position. She had_graind administrative powers. Old dwellers in the county looked. with envy at the fine flourishing es- tate, at the order, the method, the prosperity. She was a woman of large mind. Any one going to her with a plan, a scheme, an invention of any kind, was sure to be encourag- She adopted all modern improveâ€" ments; she spared neither thought, ed. labor, nor expense, and it pleased her to hear on all sides high praise of Lancewood. Her life was a busy one; grew less. ' She went to church, but she did not join in others’ prayersâ€" how could she, while her injustice and She opened the pages sin remained? of her Bible, but closed them, for words telling of the reward and the blessing sure to trouble her. "Do right come what may,” words that continually sounded in her She thought of them until even were ears. her clear mind growl confused. it right to do as she was doingâ€"mak- ing Lancewood what, even in its palm- lest days, it had never been before, or was it righlt to restore the estate to one who would simply ruin it? Did the means justify the end: Could it be possible that geod ever arose from evil-that wrong could ever be right: She pondered these questions long and anxiously, and then she decided that Lancewood was her dearest interest, and that she would attend first of all to that. There came a day when all these questions were suddenly settled. It was a clear, cold, frosty day in December, and Vivien had been work- ing very hard. The winter was un- usually severe and frosty, the people suffered much from cold. She had been round the estate, giving with a bountiful, royal hand relief where it was needed. The poor and the rich Lanccwoodl" while she herself cried for mercy because she was a sinner. On this cold December day she came in from her long drive almost frozen herself. She took off her M'arm, rich furs, and stood for a few minutes It was the twilight of a December day. Ahaze lay over the fields and bills; the trees Itood like huge bare giants, the air was clear, brisk, and cold, a gray Ihade was falling over the land, a gray shade that gave a peculiar yelâ€" low light. She was standing in the drawing-room, and, in that weird, itrauge light the room seemed to glow with radianceâ€"the firelight cast a ruddy, cheerful blaze that contrasted forcibly with the grayness outside. As she looked round, her heiri warmed to her beautiful home; bu: for the shadow lying over her life. how happy she should be! Then she half wished that Gerald Dorm-an had cared less for her. In such a case he would never have done what he hid. Her thoughts wandered to him. She had heard from him once or twice. He had written short. sad letters cm;â€" taiuing no particular news. it seemed like an answer to her thoughts when a foutman entered with the letâ€" ter-bag: It had been delayed in the morning, owing to the state of the roads from the frost, and had not Through Storm and Sunshine 'The boy is dead. yet she would fain have done more to drive away the specter that haunted her, the remorse and regret that never- that followed justice were W'as arrived until Miss Neslie had left the Abbey on her long round of visits. She opened it mechanically. There could be nothing to interest her very greatly. The first letter she saw was one with a deep black border, ad- dressed to her in Gerard's handwrit- ing. \thit did it meanl The other let- ters fell unheeded from her hand to the floor. A gasping sigh parted her lipS. What did it mean, that broad black border? What did it portend? It seemed to her that an hour bud phased between the first moment that she had seen the letter and the moâ€" ment when it lay open before her. Then Gerald's words seemed to stand out in letters of fire. "I have sad news for youâ€"sad, though perhaps, after all, for the best. He was unwell, ail- ing for months, and then became seriously ill; now he is dead. Believe me, he has had the best of care, the best of nursing, of advice, of atten- tion. The cleverest of doctors, the most skilled of nurses, have attended to him, but it was all in vain. Had he been my own son, I could not have done more for him; but he is dead in spite of all my care and efforts. He passed under the name of Hal‘l'y D01“ man. and lest you should feel a doubt of my word, I inclose you the certificate of his death and burial. "I am sorry for his death, but it is well that it has taken place. I e'n-tireait of you to believe that he could not have been more kindly treated. Remember, a certain num- ber of years are alloted to every one- He would have died just the same, even had he remained at Lancewood. "Now, Miss Neslie, you may be hapâ€" py. You may cease to lament and mourn. The boy is the better for what has happened. My brother taught him what he would never have learned at Lancewoodâ€"to fear, and love, and serve his Maker. "You may be at rest now; Lance- wood is your ownâ€"the teirbile past lies buried. Let me hear that you have married the man you love, and that you are happy; you know how 1 long to hear this. "Once more before I die I shall try to see you; it may be soon, it may be in years to come. The kind words that you will give me then will be the reward of my life-long love and de- votion to you." She looked at the papers enclosed; they were copies of certificates of Harry Dorman’s death and of his burial in _New York. And so she said to herself the tragical page of that story is closed. Was she glad or sorry? The world seemed to stand still; her heart beat slowly; her pulse barely throbbed; her whole soul seemed to have.suddenly received a sudden shock. An hour afterwards she found herself kne'elâ€" ing with the open letter in her hands. He was deadâ€"this child of a stroll- ing player, Whose inheritance she had taken because she did not think him worthy to hold it. He was dead, and Lancewood was in very truth her own. She might be sorry for what she had doneâ€"for the sin of the pastâ€"but the haunting sense of wrong was at an endâ€"quite at an end. She was not keeping’now that which belonged to another. It was her own. She need no longer feel scrupulous or hesitate to enjoy her life. The dark, terrible shadow had vanished. She was not wronging the heir of Lancewood, for he was dead. Yet perhaps she had never shed bititerer tears than she shed as she kinelt and thought of the dead child; but, when the tears wereispent, and she rose once more to the level of ev- eryday life, there was a great change in her. She seemed to have grown years younger. The rich color re- turned to her beautiful face. She laughed, talked, smiled, as she had not done for years. The terrible weight had fallen from her. She was no longer keeping unjustly what belonged to another. She was herself, as she had not been since her father's marriage. She did not seek to hide from herself the ter- rible enormity of the sin she had com- mittedâ€"with deepest contrition she accused herself of it before Heaven; but the burden of the sin seemed to have been removed by the child's death; and, if any anxious thought came to her that his death might have been caused or hastened by his removal from Lancewood, she remem- bered what Gerald had said. His a1- lotted number of years would have come to an end whether he were in England or America. If the idea was l i that of a fatalist, she'did not know it. People wondered how she had lost her sad gravity, her gloom. 'l'hoy fancied it was the effect of time on her sorrow. >ho knew: th ll. sh.» \vas released from a terrible secret that had weighed her down to the earth. Then she heard from Gerald lh'ti. his brother, no longer having an object for remaining in America, was rriurnâ€" ing to England. Gerald preferred rc- m.iining where he was. Vivien sent to his brother a handsome sum in ac- knowledgment of his services, and then she said to herself that the whole affair was ended. That year, for the first time since her father's death. she wont to Lon» don. Slit: left hltl‘ beloved Laincewood in all prosperity, and went with Lady Sineatoin and her daughters. in the melropflis shu mot Lord St. JUsL, “ho was first amazed, then delighted. “If I could only understand youl" he said to her one day. "You are the greatest puzzle 1 have ever met with, But, do you know, i begin to think that you do love me after all, Vivien, and that ydu will consent to be my wife at last.” "Try me," she said, with a blushing smile. , “Will youl’ he asked. "0h, Vivien, it cannot be that you. intend to make me happy at last? I cannot believe it, Will you be my wife T" She laid her hand in his and looked up at him. "Mine has been astrange life,” she said, "a hard life, and it had had scans terrible episodes in it; but, if you thjnk that i can make you happy, I am all your own, Adrian.” 'He seemed, at first, as though he could hardly believe her, as though he fancied that she was still unsettled. He could not realize the happiness that was really his. He found, at last, that it was true, and then his delight knew no bounds. Lady Smeaton was delighted. “You have come to your senses, Vivien, at last," she said; "though why you have acted in so strange a fashion puzzles me." And Vivien did not wonder at it; looking back, she was almost puzzled at herself. ' The marriage took place in June, and perhaps there never was one that gave more general satisfaction. One of the newspapers containinga full account of it was sent to America, and read there by a lonely desolate man, who bent his head over the paper, - weeping bitter tears. "She will be happy at last," said Gerald Dorman, -“while I shall never know what happiness means." CHAP PER: XXXIX. "Married and happy." It seemed to Lady St. Just, when she. heard the bells chime on her .wedding-day, that she had reached the end of her troubles at last. She was .in one of the highest positions that fall to the lot of women uncrowned. She was mistress of Lancewood, with its large revenues; she was also mistress of King‘s Rest. Lord St. Just was one of the wealthiest peers in England. She had almost boundless wealth â€"- boundless love. What more could woman deâ€" sire‘? - Yet as she thought of these splen- dors, of her riches and her magnifica once, she told herself, "My sin will keep me humble before Heaven and man.” It was so. There was no kinder, more considerate, more thoughtful or ch11 ri- table woman in England than Lady St. Just; above all compassionate, and children. He looked at the beautiful, earnest, noble face, and smiled. "How you love children, Vivien l" he said. "I almost wish 1 were achild; you would love me more.” "l could not love you better, dear,” she responded. And the words rose to her lips, "1 once wronged a child," but she did not utter them. So in every way she tried to make reparation for the wrong done. Then came news from Parisâ€" "Miladi" had married the Comte de (.‘ulluux after all, and sent her wed- dingâ€"cards to Lady St. Just. Her husband wished her to ignore them, Iand he wondered why to this woman whom he know she disliked \‘ivicn sent a magnificent present. It seemed to her some kind of reparation, so she [did it. Lord St, Just studied how to please his wife in ev‘bry way. Knowing how well she loved Lancewood, he spent six ‘months of every year there, and with- in the walls of the Abbey, recently the 'scene of light revelry, were gathered some of the noblest and wisest men in England. Lord St. Just was a keen lpoliticianâ€"nothing delighted him :more than the interest his wife took ;in his affairs. She was of consider- lable assistance to him; she entertain- ;ed the noble statesmen who gathered lround him. Many a Gordian knot was ‘cut by her quick womanly wit; many la strong and noble measure, blessed ‘by half the country, was first discus- ‘sed at Lancewcod. l She was wonderfully happy; there were times when she bent her beauti- ful head in mute, lowly thanks to Hea- ,ven, wondering that so much mercy, so much pity had been shown to herâ€" wondering why she had been preser- ved to enjoy such blessings as fall to the lot of few. Then a son and heir was bornâ€"heir of King‘s Rest and his father‘s title. That increased her happiness, yet ‘brought the past more vividly than lever before her. She never looked in ‘the face of her own child without ithinking of little Oswald, buried ina .far-off land. But his mother had not loved him as she loved her boy. She had cared only for the prosperity that her child Ibrought her, not for the boy him- ‘self. To be Continued. ____.__.___ CHINESE PROVERBS. An indication of the Chinese charac. ter can be inferred from the nature of their proverbs. A few of them are as follows: “If the blind lead the blind they will both go to the pit." "An old man marrying a young wife is like a withered willow sprouting ." "A wife should excel in four things, virtue, speech, deportment and needlework.” “Every day cannot be a Feast of Lan- terns." “Would you look at the char- lacter of a Prince, look at his Minister, or the disposition of a. man, observe his companion, or that of a father, mark his son.” The higher a rat creeps vupi a cow’s born the narrower he finds it." “Let us get drunk toâ€"day while we have wine; the sorrows of to- morrow may be borne by to-morrow.” __.._.___,q AN AID TO MEMORY. Magistrate. to prisonerâ€"Did you really call this old gentleman an imâ€" !beoile and an idiot last night? 3 Prisoner, trying tic collect his lthoughtsâ€"The longer I look at him the more probable it seems to me that I did. nHo noreii Physician, Trusted and Admired by Tens of Thousands of Grateful Cured Ones is Dr. W. A. Chase. First, by his famous Recipe Book, and later by his great family remedies, Dr. Chase proved his wonderful skill as a conqueror of disease. A grateful world now rises to call him blessed and to tell of the incalculable benefits derived from the use of his great pre- scripiions. EGZEMA ON THE HEAD. Mrs. Joseph Querin, Ethel, Huron Co.. Ont., writes:â€""l was with eczema on the head and face for about 9 years. My head was a mass of scabs, and though [tried the doc- tors I was all the time getting worse. I finally began to use Dr. Chase's Oint- ment. and to my surprise obtained reâ€" lief from the first application. Three boxes have cured me, and I would not begrudge $203 for the benefit I have derived from [his great remedy. Dr. Chase’s Ointment is of almost daily. use in the home, and I would advise eVoi'ybody to keep some on hand." WEAK AND NERVOUS. Mrs. J. M. Bradley, 100 June street. Ottawa. stateszâ€"“For several years I hivn been gradually running down in health; I was very nervous and weak” and worried greatly over my future. troubled l Hearing of Dr. Chase's Nerve Food [and the wonderful results it has ac- ,complished in others, I obtained a box laud began using it as directed. I be- igan to improve immediately, and am now restored to full health and vigour." "Dr. Chase's Nerve Food is an exâ€" cellent remedy, and I can recommend it to all who are Weak, nervous, or run . down in health." . KIDNEY BAGKAGHE. Mr. D Vid Mclle'sh. 279 Slatvr St, 0.1mm, 0nt., ntdteSlâ€"Hl was [roublul I with kidney disease and backache for i four or five years and have uied very many remedies without obtaining per- ‘ manent benefits. Some time ago I be- .gan using Dr. Chase's Kdiney-Liver Pills, and found them to be the best ‘medicine I ever used. Their use took away that kidney backache, and made ‘ me feel better in every way, gave me refreshing sleep. and made my diges- tion good." Imitators of Dr. Chase's Remedies do not dare to reproduce his portrait and signature, which are to be found lon every box of his genuine remedies. lAt all dealers, or Edmanson, Bates and 00., Toronto. was she tender, loving to little 1 People Who Would be lloallhy Shunlil LAUGH AND GET WELL. .â€" Not be Afraid to Laugh. ' 'Laugh and grorw fat," is a saying that contains a deal of truth. and is worthy of attention by many sufferer. in body as Well as in mind. \Ve instinc- tively assmiate jollity with rotundity, and a sour disposition with a spare form. The rule is, of course. not with out exceptions, for we often see peo- ple with littli- propensity, to take on fat who are full of fun and sunshine. Such persons are not boisterous. how- ever. They are possessed it may be. of a quiet humour, are happy and mille others happy, and they smile easily and perhaps laugh softly; but they do not laugh loud, and certainly thvy do not cachiunate. 'l'hu convulsive UlOVt‘lnElliS which we call laughter exert a very real effect upon the physical organism. They cause the arteries to dilate, so that they carry more blood to the .tissuen of the body, and the heart to beat more rapidly, so that the flow of the blood through the vessels is hastened. in other words, laughter promotes the very best conditions-for an increase of the vital processesâ€"the tissues take up more nutritive material and the waste products are more promptly re- moved, Not only is Laughter an accompani- ment and an expression of joy, but it leveh creates joy. Often a good laugh. excited in spite of oneself. will change the current of thought, and impart ageneral rosy tint to what was before of the deepest blue. This happy effect is due in part til the increased flow of blood to thc brain, and the consequent better working of the instrument of thought and partly to the fact that when a mental state and a physical act an associated, the physical state being usually induced by the mental act, thl performance of the physical act ever .if at first perfunctory, will in tirm induce the mental state correspondin] to it. The doctors have hardly yet learned what a valuable curative power than is in laughter. It is a precious, and health-giving tonic, often more offic- acious than bitters and iron, and fa) pleasanteir to take. Let the dyspeptic, the bilioius, thi melancholy, and those who seem to b1 wasting away without any discover- able cause, take a course of funny stories and humorous books ', let them retire to their closets or to the woods1 and laugh out loud for a few minute: two or three times a day; and when they have done this for a month or two, let them tell their friends thI secret of their improved health. _.__._.___ FRILLS OF FASHION. ‘Wraps for elderly women are mad! to a great extent of black taffeta. Gold buttons, and, in fact, button: of every description. are much em- ploye-d. Fringe, especially white or black, asserts itself. in many of the new gUIWflS. In lace effects the very newest whim is the lace coat, which may be long and close-fitting or short and loose. Linens of all tints and weights are extremely fashionable, and some of‘ the prettiest are made of pure linen tOWeling. When summer heat is at its high. est, both white and beige linen two- piece suits, tailor-made of course, are to be much worn. The shirt waist is found developed in flannel, silksâ€"plain, and trimmed, percale, madras, embroidery. lace, and even mousseline de soie. ' Pretty handkerchiefs of delicate tints, such as heliotrope, sky, l‘OSe, e.tc., embroidered in one corner with a very dainty white initial. Dainty boleros of tucked or plaited taffetas, seams and edges, finished with bands of peau de soie and enLire- ly lined with white satin, are very swell. The latest novelty in the jewelry line is the friendship fob. which is a silk ribbon with from five to nine or ten sterling silver hearts and sterling mountings. _ The lace t'I‘;lell<, threaded with black Velvet ribbons are very popular, velvet ribbon being an important fea- Lure in the dl‘t‘tlri’lilon of many sty- lish costumes. Shirring is very much in evidence on the new thin gowm. Skirts are Shirred around the top. sleeves from the shoulder to the elbow. and usually there is a shirred yoke to match. A New York concern has produced a straw sailor hat with an unbreak- able brim. This will be welcome new: to both men and women wearers. 'l‘his but can he rolled like a hoop without damage to the edge. The sash is an important feature of the summer gown. the most handsome (me.- beng embroidered in floral or other artistic designs, some finishing in fringe. The majority of the new sashes are wide and of very dellca’ao coloring.