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CHAPTER. XIJ. The houses in Victoria street are all of one class, large, respectable, and airy. Many of them are let in apart- ments, and the lodgers are most of ~them professional menâ€"artists whoae Itudios are in other localities, musi- nians who find the .central Iituation most useful, authors and edi- tors', whose ambition is perhaps higher than their means of gratifying it, sur- geons of good professional standing. [t in a quiet, respectable street, neith- |r lively nor dull, but where people take a .quiet interest in each other, Ind the occasional disappearance of an gprpareutly Wellâ€"to-do resident filled the rest with concern. Lady St. Just had never been in the Itreet before. She looked anxiously (or the number which Gerald Dormun had given, and when the cab stopped, lhe looked even more anxiously at the house. It was a large house, with green balconies and a. small garden in [routâ€"the very ideal of respectability. A few sudâ€"looking flowers grew in the little garden; the windows all had green venetians and .white curtains. [ rLady St. Just reooiled at the words. Poor Gerald, to lie dying there! "Shall I fetch my mistress or the nurse 7” asked the girl. “No,” raplied the nurse; “I am sorry to say Mr. Dorman will never be any better in this world. madam. 1 do not think he has many hours to live; but his told me this morning that he could not die until he had seen you." Lady SL-J-ust asked if she could see MnDorman. "1 don‘t know. They say he in 'dying,” replied the girl. In answer to the summons at the floor a servantâ€"maid appeared, and she looked wonderineg at Lady St. Just. Vivien had dressed herself as plainly as possible, but she could not hide the magnificence of her figure or the grand, noble beauty of her face. The girl stared at the unusual vision, and "Shall I go in with you, my lady naked Joan. as the cab stopped. "No." said Lady St. Just. "And no batter how long I am. remain here till I return." ‘ ‘V‘You are the lady, I think.” Lshe bald, "whom Mr. Dorman wishes to lee V" "The nurse,” replied Vivien; and in n few minutes the maid returned with heme kindly, cleverâ€"looking woman, who courtesied profoundly. “Yes,” answered Vivien; "I will go to him at once, it you plea-set Is be any better 2" 01031111 Again the words struck her with all the force of a bIOVV‘. What did they "Will you follow me. madam 1" ask. ed the nurse, who, like the servant, was struck by the wonderful grace and magnificent beauty of the visitor. She followed the nurse up the stairs into a large, well lighted, ‘well-fur- nished room. A bedstead with crimson hangings occupied the middle; on it lay Gerald. “Vivien,” he whisperedâ€"and in all her life Lady St. Just had never heard nnything so terrible as that voiceâ€" l"have you come at lastâ€"at last 2” and the dying eyas seemed to drink in avery feature of her beautiful face. i"At lust â€" at last! and l have waited I'Buch long hoursâ€"dark, dreary hours; {and dumbâ€"see, deaLh stands here by *my side, but he would not lay his hand 'upon me until you had beenâ€"you, my queen, my darling, my only love!" She saw the white face, wan, haggard, .with a gray shade on it; Ihe saw two large, wistful, almost leapairing eyes, giazed and terrible, that fastened on her face with ahun- [ry look; she saw the white hands, so thin and trembling, stretched out L0 greet her, and she knelt down by his bedside unable to resist hei' Lexus. b'he raised her head with u stature. “Yes. Ikuuw,“ he said, “you are an- other man‘s wife. but none the less my darling, none the less In) love, none the. lead my idol. though you have never loved mel" "My poor Gerald.“ she said gently, "you were such a faithful friend to me pâ€"so good and so true." "Rth Gerald," be corrected. “1 have lived for you, my beautiful, proud, ltately loveâ€"lived, sinned. suffered. 1 Also die for you. Yuu will remember that, and not think hardly of me. I know." he said faintly. “that the love of you constituted my life; but Idid not think I should miss you so greatly, “Yes, and law dying because 1 love you so. I have tried my best; fluve darned toJive without you, to fill my ‘lfle with other care; I could not, so I lie bore." “My poor Gemld!" she said, with ,xveqping eyes. N Through Storm and Sunshine ._â€"_1____â€"â€"â€" Just asked i! she could see warning so terribly. Vivien, may I hold your hand in mine just once? I am a dying mu, dear, dying for you.” She took the worn white hand in her own. and held it in her warm clasp. "Vivien," he said, "I run thirsting to hear something â€" tell me, have you been happy since you married? Do not imagine that there is any foolish jealously in my heartâ€"but I want to know. I want. to know if you have own. and held it in "Vivien," he said, hear something â€" been happy since not imagine that t] His eyes were fixed on her face with such desperate earnestnessâ€"with such almost fierce craving for her answer. "Tell me," he said, "have you been happy? Tell me all." "fies," she replied; "I have been happy" jealously in know. I w been happy A sudden, almost beautiful light came over his face. She saw how the words delighted him, and she continuâ€" "I have been so happy that the world has been like Paradise to me. I love' my husband dearly, Gerald; he is noble and generous, he is devoted to me, and Spends his .life in making me happy. Then I have two beautiful children. 0h, Gerald, how I wish you had come to our house instead of lying all alone here! I would have nursed you and cared for you as though I were your own sister." V "Never mind about me," he said. faintly; "tell me more about your hap- pineas." "It is so great." she replied, "that it is perfect. 1 am beloved and happy, Gerald; the days are all bright. What mom can I say 9" "You tell me that for these past few Wear: you who have suffered so much have been perfectly happy i“ he said. "Yes," she replied, "perfectly." "And, tell me, Vivienâ€"clasp my hand more tightly, dear, it is so coldâ€" if you had never been married you would never have been happy 9” "No," she replied, "never." "Then I am content," he said. “And, Vivien, you would never have married had you not known that Oswald was dead I" ‘ “Never” she replied, “I would never have married with that awful secret on my soul. But, Gerald, that is all past, do not speak of it. I have re~ pented; I have prayed for pardon through long days and long nights; I have been kind to every child for the sake of that one. Do not speak of it." She saw a gray, terrible look come over his face. “You have *been quite happy, dear, for the past few years 9” he repeatâ€"l for ed. "Yes," Gerald,“ she answered; "but why do you ask 3” “You may hate me when I tell you --you my almost curse my name; but I loved you so I was determined that you should be happy, no matter what it cost me, no matter what Isufâ€" fared, or how I sinned. I would huva died over and over again to make you happy." "But. Gerald," she asked, the same terrible sickening fear overpowering her, “what is itâ€"what have you done 3” "Do not hate me. Vivien. Stoop down lower that I may whisper. Love â€"my loveâ€"Oswald is not dead, but living l" She threw up her arms with a ter- rible cryâ€"a cry like that of one drowningâ€"a cry so shrill in its agony and despa'u: that the dying man was alarmed at it. "It cannot be true," she gasped rather than spoke; "it is too cruel, it cannot be true 1" "Dt is true. I swear it before Hea- venl" he said faintly, and then for some minutes there was silence be- tween themâ€"an awful silence, more terrible than the quietness of death. The face raised to him than was in that short space of time quite chang- ed; the rich coloring, the hztppy light, the proud. serene calmness were gone, never to return. It was a ter- rible face, even ghastly in its pallor. "It cannot be true, Gerald," she re- peated; “it is too cruel, it cannot be true 1' “But why did you act so? It was cruel, pixiless. \Vhy did you deceive "Because I wanted you to be happy. I saw that you loved some one very dearly; and I saw that you would be wretched all your life away from that "Not half so wretched as lam now,“ she returned. “It was cruel of you, Gerald." "I did not mean it to be so," he midffaintly. “I saw that you Were unhappy, and that you would never me. n ‘It is fl: Lrue as Heaven," he declarâ€" marry while this secret lay between you and the man you loved. You k'nomVivien, that 1 would have died] for you. When I saw you so miser- able, I asked myself what I could do to make you happy; and I knew from what you had said that you could never be happy while the boy lived.” He lay quiite still for some moments, and then he continued-- "Muy Heaven pardon me. Vivien, but I loved you so well that I could almost have destroyed him to render you happy. Another idea came to me .410 make you believe he was dead. It was for that I went to America. I could not see any other way. I was very kind to the boy; he loved me very muchâ€"he loves me now. I took him away from my brotherâ€"he traveled with me; and then. I deceived my bro- ther as‘much as you, for I. made him believe the boy was dead." , {Ht 1.! to waste otne's heartâ€"to garnen ’ the whole strength of a soul. and lav- ish it in vain. Now I say to myself” ‘wtth contrite team. that I ought to ‘ have thought of Heaven as I have E thought of you." "My poor Gerald." she said. "that Is a terrible love.” "I kmonv litâ€"it has killed me. I have never had any hope in it. You Were proud. stately, beautifulâ€"I was only a poom dependent. I never dreamed of any return; but just as a ‘flower gives its perfume to the sun, I gives its all, gives it freely, asking no return. so I was willing to liVe and to die for you. I wanted no return. I laid my honor, my truth, my honesty, my very manhood, under your feet. I would have sinned even more deeply to make you happy. I loved you better ' than myself." i ‘ "But. Gerald," she said, gently, “How could you? How could you? she sobbed. All her strength, all her courage, had given way at last, and she was weeping like a child. "It was easy to deceive my brother. He is 'a bookwoxm. a scholar; a gobd man; bwt he takes no interest in the world or what goes: on in it. Noth- ing ever surprises him; he is never sorry, never glad. Years ago. when I took the boy to him, he said, 'Is he your son. Gerald? and when I bade him ask no questions, he asked none. He is unlike every one else. It was easy to deceive him. I told him that his charge was ended, that the boy was dead. and that he could return home. He asked no question. he made no commentâ€"he returned, and I re- mained. Vivien. I meant to bring the boy up as my own. and n’eVer to tell you; but I'found that Icould not live. I worked hard to keep him and myself. I spent all my annuity on him. I brought him back) to England when] I found that I could not live, and hefls berm; but. Vivien. listen." She caused her passionate weeping and looked at him. “Lisrtetn, beloved," he said. "He has changed so completely; hé’ is not the boy he wasâ€"mmming, false. un- disciplimed; our training has done him some good. He is not perfeotuâ€"far from L’sâ€"but he is a. better boy than he was." "Where is he 9" she asked. "I placed him in the best school I could findâ€"Dr. Lester's. 0! Hammer- smith. He is there as Henry Dorman. He has wanted for nothing, Vivienâ€"- you believe that 2" "Yes," she replied. “I am sure of it. But it Was a cruel deceptionâ€"a cruel kindnessâ€"a cruel deed. I would rather have died yesterday than have heard this to-day." "Yes. but all my happiness is over now," she replied, withi a bitter cryâ€" "all over. I can never be happy again." "I did it because I loved you, and could not endure to see you suffer. I meant only kindnessâ€"only love. I knew that if you believed the boy dead and buried your last scruple would be removed, and you would be happy. I knew that while you be- lieved him living you would never know one moment's peace. Oh. pear- do‘n me, my beloved 1" He held out his white, worn hands. "See how I have suffered," he said, sadly, "I was a strong. man once, and a good man. See to what my love for you has led me. I have stained my soul by sin, and my strength has left me. I have loved you so that I am dying for you. Now I know what "Still you have been‘ happy, my be- loved?" TEST THE KDNEYS, It’s a simple matter to test the kidneys. You need not consult a doctor. By asking yourself three questions, you can determine whether or not your kidneys are deranged. Firstâ€"“Have you backache or weak, lame back ’2” Secondâ€"“D0 you have difficulty in urinating or too fre- quent desire to urinate ?” Thirdâ€"“Are there deposits like brickdust in the urine after it has stood for twenty-four hours ?” In its early stages kidney disease is readily cured by a few boxes of Dr. Chase’s Kidneyâ€"Liver Pills, a preparation which has made Dr. Chase famous throughout the world for his wonderful cure of diseases of the kidneys. Ifyouhave kidney disease you can take Dr. Chase’s Kid- ney-Liver Pills with perfect confidence that what has proved ‘111 absolute cure in so many thousands of cases will not fail you. So long as the cells of the kidneys are not. completely wasted away, as in the last stages of Bright’s Disease, Dr. Chases Kidney Liver Pills will give them new vigor and strength and absolutely cure kidney disease. One pill a dose, 25 cents a box, at all dealers, or EDMANSON, BATES 86 Co., DR. GHASE’S KIDNEY-LEVER PILLS. 25 cents :1 b0: Toronto, Ont. And if they are diseased use the World‘s Greatest Kidney Cure, Ht 1.! to waste ome's heartâ€"to ggrnev the whole strength of a. soul. and lav- ish it in vain. Now I say to myself. with comtrite team. that I ought to have “thought of Heaven as I have thought of you." "But. Ge‘rald‘." she said. gently, "why have you told me your secret? I was so happy in my ignorance. Why have you not kept your secret to the and E” The sad dying eyes seemed to fill with a sudden light. “Because I could not die with‘ it un- told. I have limgerad on in the agony of death and could not die. You can- not see what I see, beloved. Here by my side stands the grim king. award in hand. It would not fall until I had told youâ€"until justice was done. [could live im sinâ€"I dared not die in "Still, I cannot see why you should have told me,” sh] emoaned. "I was so happy, Gerald." "Listen, beloved." he said again. "Justice must be done; the boy must go back to Lamcowood." "Never," she cried hastilyâ€""never! All our sin and suffering shall not have been in vain.” “Burt I say it must be done, Vivien. You must do justice; you must restore the ihheritance to the bog.” A sharp spasm of pain passed over his livid face. Lady St. Just laid his head down on the pillow, she smoothed back his hair from his brow; his face grew more calm again. "Vivien," he whispered, faintly, "once, long ago, when I was going away from you, you kissed me, and the memory of that moment has never left me. Beloved, kiss! me again, {or [am dying for you.” She laid her fresh warm lips on his, already growing cold and chill. She saw a strange change come over his face, and she rose hastily and called the nurse. "I am afraid Mr. Dorman in worse," she said. The nurse looked at him. "He is dying. m‘adamf’ she told her. He opened his eyes, which were fill- ed with a strange, deep shadow, and fixed them on Vivian’s face. She saw' his lips move, and bent over ‘him. "The boy must go back to Lance- wood,” he said, with labored breath. "Promise me." She made no answer. "P1an me." he repeated, and be- fore her answer came Gerald Dorâ€" man was dead. Miss Van ‘Nillaâ€"The Scientific News says ice-cream freezers were inventâ€" ed by a. woman. Mr. Promenodâ€"I don't believe it. Miss Van Nillaâ€"Humph! Perhaps you think women incapable of invent- ing anything? Mr. Promenodâ€"Nâ€"o. Women doubt- less invented ice-cream saloons. FEMININE INVENTIVE GEN TUS. To Be Continued. A Hunter's Terrlblo Experlenu With a Leopard. Old Joe Messy, a famous hunter 0! Nulal, some of whosa remlmsoencen are printed hi the Cape Magazine,wal pzrymg a wait to his old frbend Jim Neil, who had glven up elephant-hunt- tag and SC’LtIed_ in the thlokly wooded country, which borders the Mooi. River. On account of the (leprech- trons 0T :1 wary leopard, the settle! had been compelled to confine th sheep at night in a shed built of rougli stones. Even this preozmntron had. proved melffectunl. One day, alter the Arrival of Messy Neil returned from town with ahugo steel trap. But the leopard disap- peared for a time, and the men wen about to Let the flock sleep outside again when the natives reported an- othea' victim. There/upon the trap was set, and. the next night an excit- ed native rushed £11. "Baas, baasl Deleixgor ootl De te‘nger cot!” he crfied. 'Sc'izmg their guns‘ that, two hunters rushed out. It wasa a darla night. the natural dbsourity beung Increased by a thick mist. Nedl called for alight. and a native presently brought I lantern. Guided by its nyl. they entered the enolosure and flashed the nght an the trap. A huge Leopade wag crouohung by it its eyes ilashfing in the darknell. Neil took careful am: and tired. 'Dhe leopard, which had been oapfiht by its hindleg, bounded up witha roar. and Lu its wild rush tore up. on. an the stakes that secured the trap. Then wmh desperate energy it. threw. itself from side to side to work clear of the smare. At this juncture the nwtivu. m hm fright, dropped the lantern, and the hunters ware Ieit in darkness, in close proximity to the fierce muial. It was not a plrasant positlon, but eventually aZulu put alargar lan- tern on the end of arwhip-atfick and. passed it over untto the emlosun. The writer says: '1 heard a repocrt, and can now re- call the Wild roar of munglled. fury and triumph with which the Leopard, hoo- ing himself by a: last tremendous efforts, dashed past me and sprang upon Neil. 1n the fitful lightIcould hardly make out_ the[ old man, as with gun clubbed he; fought. off the sewage brute. "Again man and beast struggled into the light, and then dlsappeared as they rolled together on the floor of the kraal. I was afraid to fire, as the. least mLstake m.ghL be fatal to my companion, yen; immediate action was necessary, for the old man‘s strength was ebbing fast. "B airing the lantern aloft, and hold- ing my gun pistol-Wise, I apprpached the combatants. A chance move oi the leopqrd’s as he gaimed the ascen- d-erncy exposed his body, and I drew the trigger. The charge, a heavy one of slugs, passed through hi5 loms, and with a growl he- loosenedw his hold and slunk a/way into the dark- mess. "With the assistance: of; the natives, I canned Neil in-tno the house, and al- though much scratched and torn. he wars soon on a fair way to recovery. The leopard was foumd in the morn- ing dread'near by, and the old man almost forgot his woumds in contem- plating the animal’s skin'.’ A gentleman of decided and highly cultivated musical tastes, wishing to change his residence, advertised for rooms In “a private family fond of music." The next mail brought him the following reply: Dear Si)“ I think we could accom- modate you with rooms, and as for music, one of my daughters plays the parlor organ and gittar; another one plays the accordeon and banjo; I play a comet and fiddle; my wife plays the harmonica, and my son the flute. We all sing, and. If you are good at ten- ner singing you would fit right in when we get to singing gospel hymns evenings, for none of us sing ten- ner. Or if you play the base vial we have one right here in the. house. If you want music as well as board we could accommodate you, and there would be no extra charge for it. The trembling Boxer knelt before Li. Hung Chang and strove to explain matters. I must have lost my head. I see no other reason why I engaged in the uprising. 0h, Son of the Blue Sky, he walled. You are a trifle 0!! In your grammar, interposed Li. You should say; I will have lost my head. And the Wtioner stepped torward at the proper signal. DANGEROUS PRISONER. A MUSICAL FAMILY.