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“ Shall I get anything for you, um- ‘um ’2" inquired the woman, kindly. Lady St. Just thanked her, buLsaid " No ;" then, rising, she looked long on the dead face 06 the man who had lovâ€" ed her so well. Lady St. Just knelt half-crouching- ly on the ground; it was not so much thq death of Gerald Dorman that bad prostrutbd her as lhc story he had told For, with the quickness of her keen Intelligence, she saw th'at Gerald‘s death must be made known to her hus- band. The annuity that had been his would revert to the estate. It would be better to make no mystery of his death. There would be no need “at present" to‘mention Oswald. Once more Lady St. Just bent down and touched the dead man‘s .face with her lips. “ He was a faithful friend to our family," she said slowly. " He was my tathex"'s secretary. and my husband shall see that all proper respect is: paid to h‘m now'.” ‘ Nurse. "1 1 you, madam "Good bye, Gerald," she said. " You have served me well, you have loved me wellâ€"too well for your happiness and for mine.” Once again she looked at the strange yet familiar fareâ€"strange iu the mar- ble beauty that was fast spreading over .it. He who had loved her so well, had suffered for her, bad sinned for her, lay stillâ€"he could love and suffer no more.‘ A rush of tears blinded her eyes. How good he had been to her, this un- happy man! “He 'is dead, Joan," she said to her maid as she re-entured the cal), " he is dead." And Joan never knew that Lady St. Just had seen Gerald Dorman die; she believed that her lady had reached the house too late. She did not feel sur- prised that L'ady Just wept during the whole of Lhe way home, wept in such hopeless despair, such weuriness of heart. Junu thought it very na_tural she should regret. and regret deeply, too, an old devoted friend like Gerald Dorman. “ His lordship will be vexed to see you so put out," said the faithful wo- man. “Did he know whsre you were going, my lady! But, nuâ€"I am sure, had he known, he would have accom- pan'ed you.” "I did not tell bun, Joan,” she re- plied. " The letter that came 'Lo me was addressed by the doctor, I sup- pose. Lord St. Just was not in the rbom when I read it.” She was so :iruud that she disliked equivocating ever so slightly to this womah. A false word was detestable to her. When" she reached home Lord St. Just “as absent, and she was thankiul there would be time to com- pose hersclt before his return. When he did appear she was looking pale and ill, but he did not notice it. “ The dressing bell has rung, but I am gufite at your orders," he replied. " Adria n’“ she'said, " can you spare mg a few minutes? I have something to say to you." mm.‘ Alter a UI‘IGI 511811138 5116 COD- tinned: "It was a great surprise to me. I did not even know that he had re- turned to England." "It. will be a great trouble to you 1150, Vivien. He was a faithful friend, I believe." "Too faithful," she said to herself, with a deep-drawn, bitter sigh. But for his readiness to sacrifice himself for her, but for his wonderful love and fidelity, she would not be in her present terrible position. , " It is getting late, Vivien," said Lord St. Just, suddenly. “ You are forgetting our dinner party, darling. You must go and dress." Then struck by her dreamy, abstracted expression, he hastened to add: “ Is there anyâ€" It is extremely doubtful if there ever was a remedy that was endorsed by such an overwhelming 111153 of evi- ‘denoe as is Dr. Chase’s Ointment. The remarkable soothing, healing qualities of Dr. Chase‘s Ointment are a mys- tery to physicians, and, though they lare slow to recognize merit in any dis- covery, they join heartily with people of other callings in endorsing and re:- commending Dr. Chase’s Ointment as the most subcessful treatment ever ~devised for itching skin diseases. Rev. J. A. Baldwin, Baptist Minister, Arkona. Ont.. writes: "For over twenty years I was a great ,sufferer from itching and protruding ‘ piles. I used many remedies and un. derwent three very painful surgical .operations. all without obtaining ny fpermanent benefit. When abou to ,I give up in despair I was told to use , Dr. Chase's Ointment and did so, find- ‘ ln'g relief at once. I used three boxes, 98nd am almost entirely cured. The " You remember my father's’ secre- tary? You have heard me speak of him vexy often," she began in a low voice "Oertu‘uiy," said Lord St. Just, in his kindly, geyiztl manner. " Your father left him an annuity. did he not 3’“ “Yes. I had a letter to-day telling me that he was dying and would like to see me." She spokp im a low, hurâ€" ried voice, with her face turned from him. “I went. He was dying when I reached the houseâ€"he is dead now." ”It is getting late, Vivien,“ said Lord St. Just", suddenly. " You are forgetting our dinner party, darling. You must go and dress.“ Then struck by her dreamy, abstracted expression, he hastened to add: “ Is there any- “ My darling wife,” said Lord st. Just,' you should not have gone through such a scene." She did not appear to have heard him.‘ After a briet silence she con- tinned: CHAPTER XLI.â€"Continued. Very sudden at the last," said the e. "I am afraid 6t has alarmed n Through Storm and Sunshine thing that you wish matter ?" " Yes," -she replied. " Poor Gerald Dorman bad but due relative. a broth- er, and he ls in Rouen. I want you, Adrian, to see that Gerald has atit- ting funeral." "I will attend to it myself," said the generOus nobleman. " I will go my- self as chief mourner; that will please you, Vivien." Slowly and sadly she raised her pale face to his and kissed him. “ You are always good to me," she saidâ€"" always kind." 'f My peerless Vivien, who would be anything else? It is hard on you, darliing. I know that you are grieved about this; it is a loss to you. No new friends can ever take the place of the old. It Iis hard on you; but, if you can try to be yourself to-night, and amuseour guests as you usually do, I shall be glad; nevertheless, if you would rtaher not come down to dinner, I will‘ make all excuses for you." ‘ ' “I will come," she said; "and you will see that all due respect is paid to .my father‘s old friend and secre- tary ’6" “ I will, my darling," and kissing her pale face more warmly than usual, Lord St. Just hastened away. CHAPTER XLII. " I shall have to live with the know- ledge through all the future," Lady St. Just thought to herself; " I may just as well begin my task now." ' Yet she had some terrible causes for anxiety, one was, would anything compromising to her be fOund in Ger- ald‘s papers. She tried to reassure her- self that he loved her too well to be careless’ in any matter affecting her. Yet for the next two days, the proud, beautiful Woman suffered'a very martyrdom of suspense. Every ring at the hell, every knock at the door, every unusual sound, every strange footstep startled her, and at last Lord St. Just began to fear that she must be ill, and to wonder what was the matter with her. It was a sore and terrible trial of her nerves. She did not dare to again go to Ger- ald's lodgings, lest her doing so should excite wonder and comment. The day of poor Gerald’s funeral came, and every one who had known his connection with the family thought that Lord St. Just acted kindly and courteously in following. It was a fitting mark of attention. The kindly nobleman himself had tak- en care that the ceremony should be one befitting a friend of the Neslies. Gerald‘s brother did not attend; the engagement that he had in Rouen would not allow him. So poor Gerald was laid to rest, and Lord St. Just ordered a marble monument that was to tell his name and his age. ’ "It must be," he said to his wife. " because I find life so pleasant and so fair that I dread death, because Life ends with it. I was so grieved for your poor friend whom we laid under- ground to-day.” He was sorw for the hapless secre- tary. . v ' Is the Worid’s Greatest Cure for Itching Skin, Eczema, Salt Rheum and Files. Dr. Chase’s Ointment. m’e to do in this best for her to do‘. There was but one thing to-be doneâ€"that she knew. Lancewood ought to be restored to the young Sir Oswald. Had Gerald liv- ed a few minutes longer. she ‘would have been compelled to promise that; but he had died while the words were on her lips. He had told her in the course of their last interview how it could be arangedL-how the boy might be produced through the family solici- tor, who would nnderstand that he had been stolen years before. She saw that it was possible, without in- criminating herself to yield up La‘nce- wood to him. But after her years of possession, when he had given every energy of her heart and soul, all her talents, her patience, time and fortune to the restoration of the home of the Nes- liesâ€"after years of labor and thought and with the consciousness that Lancewood was now the finest estate in the countyâ€"it seemed to her im- possible to yield it. To give it to a strolling player’s child, to see it once more laid waste, made desolate, its revenues squandered on a horde of needy foreigners, its glories tarnished â€"-she could not entertain the thought. â€"Honor and honesty, justice and right pleaded in vainâ€"she' could not yield up the place; and so, in wilful defi- ance of right, knowing full well the extent of her crime, banishing the re- membrance of the dying face and the pleading eyes, she resolved to continue the sin of her life time. "' If he had had a different mother," she repeated, over and over again, "'I would do it; but Lancewood shall not be the prey of a strolling player, no matter by what name she is known, and her associates.“ At the same time she resolved upon doing what she could for the boy; he should have the best of education, the best of assistance. She trusted to her own ready inventiveness for keeping his existence asecret. If the worst came, she could say that he was a boy in whom Gerald Dorman had‘been v5??me interested, and whom for Getâ€" ald‘s sake, she w'as befriending. She could always take refuge in that equi- vocatjion, although she detested faISe words. ” the sin would ‘rather lie in allowing Lancewood to be the prey of the spoil- ers." "It cannot be wrong," she said to herself, with an air of desperation, The next morning, as she left her dressingâ€"room, she saw her little Ar- thur «waiting for her at the door. " Mamma,” he said, springing up to her, " I told Frank I should have the first kissâ€"and I have had it.” She took the child in her arms and looked at him long and steadily. They were grave thoughts that passed through her m'ind then. This sin of hers, this usurpation of another‘s rights, might extend to the innocent child in her arms: He was one day to be lord of Lancewoodâ€"would Heaven punish him as sharing in her sin? " I wish," said Lady St. Just to her- self, ” that I understood more of these things. How could he suffer for it, when he would be innocent of the facts even 2" Among the ailments for which Dr. Chase’s Ointment is being used by scares of thousands of people with uni- versal success may be mentioned: itching is all gone. I have advised others to use it, believing it would cure them as it has me.” You must» not think that Dr. Chase‘s Ointment is for piles only, but we men- tion this ailment as the most difficult to cure of all itching skin disea’ses, and the disease which has never been absolutely conquered by any other treatment. She looked at the boy‘s fair, sweet face, and her heart warmed to him with a great love. Ecze'ma,salt‘ rheum, tetter, babyl eczema, rash, barber‘s itch, chilbains, itching eyelids. ulcers, poisoned flesh, burns, scalds, sores. blind, itching, bleeding and protruding piles, and itching skin diseases of’ every descrip- tion. Dr. Chase’s Ointment is for sale at all dealers or sent pnstpaid. on receipt of price, 600ta.. by Edmanson BJtes & 00., Toronto. ‘ “I wofild do nothing that should hurt him,” she thought, “ my beauti- ful boy." Then she remembered how proud she had been of him. as one who would inherit the home she loved. Could she take it from this fair faced, noble boy, and give it to Valerie’s son? A thousand times no"! ‘Her boy was a true Neslie; he had no‘ile blow] in his veins, a noble soul shone in his little face. Rob him for Valerie's sonâ€"the boy who jn his youth‘had learned to deceive and to Lyrannize? A thousand times no! " I will keep Lancewood and risk it," she said to herself; "I will keep it for Arthur‘s sake." The child clasped his little arms round his mother’s neck. "Mamma," he said. " you look so sad, so serious; have I been naugh- ty ?" " No, my darling," she replied; and the boy hid his face on her neck, for he saw the beautiful ddl‘k eyes were filled with tears. The child ran away to his play, and Lady St. Just went to her daily The Lady duties She never looked or listened to her own children without thinking of litâ€" tle Oswald, whom she remembered as a child. She had loved him after a fashion, because he was her half-bro- ther, and because she had tried so hard to educate him, She wondered what he had grown intoâ€"what he waslike nowâ€"above all, if he had any rememâ€" brance of Lancewood. A longing came to her to see him, to know if he believ- ed himself to be Henry Dorman, to know if he had any lingering memory of his former life. . i This idea grew upon her until it be- came a perfect fever. She said to her- self that if she once sew him she should be at restâ€"that if she could speak to him, know something of him, she would not be haunted as she was. How could she see himâ€"by going to the school where he was? She rem-em- bered the nameâ€"Dr. Lester's, Ham- mersmith. She looked in a directory and found the nameâ€"“Grove House Academy." She might go there some day when Lord St. Just was occupied. She need not take Joan with her, neither need she take the carriage; she could go in a cab, and return in the same way. . \Vould the boy recognize her? No, she was sure of that; Gerald never spoke falsely, and he had assured her that Oswald remembered nothing of his former life. She would go, and, if her name were asked ¢or, she could say Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Anything. One thing was quite certainâ€"she must see the boy. "Vivien," said Lord St. Just, anx- iously, " either you are not well or you are plotting some terrible con- spiramyâ€"which is it ?" '“ My darling, you do not know how you have changed. Hitherto you have been all smiles and sunshine, now you are always thinking so deeply. I never find-you reading, writing, play- ing with the children; whenever I come in you are sitting or standing quite still thinkingâ€"always thinking so intently. Do you know that some- times I enter a room and leave it, without your having once seen or heard me? I often speak to you, ask you questions, and you look. at me with such vague, dreamy eyes. What is it that occupies all your thmfghts?" The words were so near the truth that Lady St. Just trembled. "\Vhy do you say that, Adz-Fan ’l" she asked. . i “ You are not well,” he said. "You have worked hard for me this ‘year, Vivien. I owe a great part of my success to youâ€"but now you must rest. We will leave London as soon 'as possible.” . Learn to laugh. A good laugh is better than medicine. Learn to greet your fnends with a smile. They carry too many frowns in their own hegrts to be bothered with any of yours. She tried to smile, to answer him lightly, but she could not. Her lips trembled, her face grew pale. She clasped her arms round his neck and kissed his face. ' “You are so kind to me, Adrian." she said. " I do not deserve your great Love.” Learn to attend strictly to your own business. Very important point. Learn how to tell a ‘story. 'A well- told stoury is as welcome as a sunbeam in a sick room. Learn to stop cranking If you cun- not see any good in this‘wurld, keep the bad to ymirself. Learn to hide your aches and under apleasant smile. No one whethar you have the earache. acne or rheumatism. And Lord St. Just laughed at the words. ' the bad to ymirself. Learn to keep your own troubles to yourself. The world is too busy to care for your ills and sorrows. flreciau gold scarf rings are shown in curious designs. Novelties in brooches. represent floral sprays. leaves and fruit. GOOD THINGS TO LEARN To Be Continued. pains cares head- .ln Elderly Lady Tells ofller Cure Throngl Ille l'ne of Dr. Wllllnlus' I’lnk Pill! After a Store of 0Iller Itemedles llnd l-‘allod. Dyspepsia causes more genuine dis- tress than most diseases that afflict mankind. In this country from can cause or another, its victims are mun. bered by the hundreds of thousands. and those afflicted always feel tired' worn out and miserable, and are sub. jeci to fits of melanchnly or ill tom. per without apparent nurse. It is obvious that the human body, in on” der to perform its functions, must bl properly nourished. and this cannot be done when the food is improperly digested. Those who gutter from in. digestion should exercise cure as to: diet, and only easily digested food: should be taken. But more than this is required â€"- the blood needs attem- tic-n in order that the stomach may be strengthened and the secretion 01 the gastric juices properly carried on. There is no other medicine offered the public that will not so promptly and effectively as Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills. Proof of this is given in the case 01 Mrs. F. X. Doddridge, St. Sauveur. Que. In conversation with areport- er, Mrs. Doddridge saidzâ€"“For quite a number of years I have been ater- rihle sufferer from dyspepsia. accom- panied by the sick headabhes that al- most invariably come with ‘this trou- ble. I suffered from terrible pains in the stomach, bloating and belch- ing wind. All food seemed to dis- agree with me, and as a résult of the trouble, I was very much run down. and at times I was unable to do even light housework. I am sure I tried a score of different medicines, but without success, and as I am sixty years of age, I had come to be lieve that it was hopefess'to expect a cure. A friend who had used Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills with good re- sults, uirged me to try this medicine. and my husband brought home I couple of boxes. Before they were finished. I felt much better, and we then got another half dozen boxes. and these have completely restored my health. and I not only feel better than I have done for years, but ac- tually feel younger. I very cheerfully recommend Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills to similar sufferers. If your dealer does not keep these pills, they will be sent postpaid _at 50 cents a box. or six boxes for $2.50, by addressing the Dr. \Villiaml Medicine 0-0.. Brockville. Ont. Didn’t you hear about it? No. Why the thug happened right down in your own neighbourhood. I know; Language, quoted “Willie VVishing- ton, was given for the concealment- of thought. Indeed, rejoined Miss Cayenne langu'idly. Permit me to con- gratulate you on being so perfect a master of English. Mr. Gump, to tencher.â€"No, Idon't want you to teach my son any gram- mar. Not a bit of it. Teacherâ€"But â€"!:utâ€"this is unusual, sir. May Iin- quire your reasons? Mr. Gumpâ€"I in- tend that he shall he a writer of popu- lar songs. but my wife‘s away for the _sum- mer. ‘ I Norah, these are as heavy as lead. Didn't you tell me you knew how to bake biscuit? Yis‘m, au’ so ldo, but I‘m a little shy on the mixin' av ’em, McGurigleâ€"‘Tis said thim doods has a pair 0‘ soospinders fer every pair 0‘ pants. Schwartzâ€"Veil, so haf I. McGarigle. How many paie of pants do yez own. Schwartzâ€"Von. He looked at the picture and laugh- ed Ioudly. That‘s good, he said. But what does it meani’she asked. Mean! Why fit doesn‘t mean anylhing, he re- plied. It’s just apolitical cartoon. A man and his wife should be part- ners like a business firm. Yes, an- swered the meek-eyed s‘lent partnerI and I find my wife is firm enough, Underthumâ€"My wife talks, talks. talks all the time. Henpeck~Impos- 'sihle. She must ligten part of the time, otherwise she wouldn't be so popular with my wife. I Did yotu have any words with you! miiétress which caused you to leave your last place? Niver a wot-rd. Shure an‘ Oi locked her in the bath room and tuk me things and slipped out as ’quiet as yez plase. Don’t you know better than to tac- kle a man for a. (Mime when he is talk- ing to ladies? said the citizen on the street corner, twinkling in his pocket, and finding nothing less than aquar- ter, which he reluctantly handed out. Mebby you understand my business better’u I do, an' mebby ycu don't, haughtrily replied Tuffold Knu'i. pocâ€" keting the coin and moving on with his greasy old bar. at a pronounced angle on the side of his head. DYSPEPSIA AND HEADACHE. SUMMER SMILES.