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“My darling, what have I done? It. was wrong to bring you to your mother without a word of Warning; but I thought only of surprise.” "Yes, yes!” she murmured. "Forgive me, will you not?” “It is unnecessary." "I have always kept it covered by - the doors, but it is yours now, and I brought, you here to give you the key.” He took a. little_golden key from his pocket and put it into her listless hand. She took it, mechanically, and then, recovering herself by de- grees, lifted her eyes steadily "and gazed full into the calm, sweet eye of the/woman Whose child' she was wrongly pretending to be; The eyes seemed to look back into hers with a pitying glance. and it seemed to her that if she' had to see that. iace )often‘she would surely betray her- self. "I am not too tired,” she answerâ€" ed, ahd, Without another word, she sat down at the piano and ran her fingers over the keys to try them, betraying, as she did so, a. thorough familiarity with the instrument. She loved musiq and could find in it a, snlace for, her troubles when weryt’nm; else failed, and so, as she Her father led her away, blaming himself for this want of tact, and not until they were in the drawing- room again did she ,venture to look at Guy. 'He wasregarding her inâ€" tently, but he blushed, and dropped his eyes likeâ€"a schoolboy when he fbund himself observed. She did not believe he suspected her, but the thought that she was under observa- tion gave her the selfâ€"control she needed, and she turned to her father and said: "Af‘e you fond of music?” “Very. Do you play?” “Do you like any particular thing? {Have you a favorite?” “‘You are too tired to play to- night,” he said solicitously. “My mother!” she made herself say, and then, with a deepâ€"drawn breath, walked to the picture, and, closing the doors, locked them. Then she put the key in her bosom, and whispered, "Let us go away.” Sir Richard was alarmed at the efâ€" iect of the picture on his daughter, and exclaimed,.in an agony of self- reproach: A look of startled horror crept inâ€" to her eyes, and she shrunk back, murmuring: ' " ' "No! no!” The last time she had seen that face was in the dim light of a. gray morning, after which she had taken from her that which was to aid her in rObbing her of her birthright, Yes she was dead, and she had said she might have the little book, but was it not a betrayal of the gentle, lov- ing girl's trust? She covered her face with her hands, and moaned softly to herself. The portraits had not interested her, and she had given them but scant attention, so that when Sir Richard' stopped in front of the picture of his Wife, she was not even looking at it. He saw that she was thinking of other things, and gently called her by name: “Constance!” “Father!” and she looked at him, And then, following his glance, turn- ed her eyes on the face in the por- trait. "With a pleased smile on his face he led her from picture to picture, With- out making any comment on any of them, and she got the idea, some- how, that an ordeal was being pre- pared for her,“ and she was on the alert to meet it, whatever it might be. It came, but it was difl‘erent from anything she had foreseen, and it nearly betrayed her. He could not keep his eyes from her, but watched her as she presided at the table with all the grace and no‘nehalance of one who has done the same thing so often as- to be uneon~ scious of the details of her m0veâ€" ments. And yet Maida. Carringford was acting as she never before had acted, recalling the many hits of “business” with which she had takâ€" en the part of the lady on the stage. But after the meal there came a harder trial'than merely sitting at. a. tea. table and acting as. if she were at home there. Sir Richard, anxious to please her, gave her his arm as they rose from the table, and led her into the little gallery Where he had- sat that night awaiting her coming. It the first fear that he would find his daughter such a one as he must. be ashamed of, ever ocqurred to Sir Richard, it was only to be dismissed with a smile and an increased wonâ€" der that, she, who had lived as she had, could accommodate herself to her new situation, with an ease which no one could have surpassed. CHAPTERSâ€"Guy Hartleigh leaves England to find his long lost cousin in San Francisco. ' Manda Carving- ford, an actress in that city, is pes- tered by genteel loafers amongst whom is Caryl Wilton who proposes and is, rejected. She learns the story’bf her mother’s betrayal by Sir Richard Hartleigh. Sir Rich- Md’s child, Constance, whom Guy is ates her and is taken to Hartleigh Hall by Guy. 9:09:10} 0 § 9.09.. “:4 ¢ .0 auto 9 Q o v A o 0' 0.003%». t .0 O O .oo’o‘d . of. Q 6 090. O O 6.0 0.0 O ‘9 M Q 6 .0 SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING- «’1 6 Q 0 90 O 9 0 .00 O. . 0 4‘5». ‘0 ‘0‘ 96 06 O 0 M O O 0.. O. O O O 06 O ’0 O O 0 0O 9 O O. o '9 O o. O. o '9 O O O O‘O0.00.9 o ’0 O o ‘0 0 Q ‘0 O Q 0 0.0 $.O 0.. ¢ 0 O O O.¢0.00. M O O O. .'. .0 O "at CO (v ¢.¢ Mama’s Secret CHAPTER V1. ooogoo "Guy is' all that ycu say, and I am glad that youâ€"youâ€"like him. Be- fore you were found. and when we fea.redâ€". You will forgive me for W" " I am about ta say, will ‘you not.” “I am glad to hear you say that,” he said. ‘ The old man smiled in a. pleased way and stroked the Hark hair. “Why? It seems to me nobody could say less of Guyflf . "He has stepped oution the veranâ€" dab.” “He is handsome, “good and anle. A true man, I slwuld gay.” Guy turned away moodin for he had noticed the effect of his presence on his cousin, but the old man look- ed up gayly and began to nod his head in appreciative time (to the music He arose and went over to her. side, and when she stopped, said, enthusiastically: I _ "Y6u play and sing divinely.” “I am glad if you are pleased.” “More than pleased. Guy! He was here a moment ago.” "He wished {tgv smoke, I suppose. ngs_tapce_, hqw do you like Guy?” “You do not mean“-â€"â€"the old man lturned pale with a sudden fearâ€" ]"that there is a. more favored one than yourself?” Guy answered by a sympathetic glance and crossed lightly to the piano, where, unnoticed by Maida, he stood and Watched her with adâ€" miration and longing. Presently she became aware of his presence and looked swiftly up, catching his glance and interpreting it. An inâ€" describable air, in which pity and coldness were mingled, came over her in an instant, and, ceasing the paâ€" thetic thing she was playing, she changed the tune and broke into a gay aria from one of the popular operas. “Guy,” he said a. moment later, “do not tell me for a few days any- thing about her past life. I would enjoy her as sheds without any thought of the past, if I can.” "Very little. . Nothing of her own accord. She told me of her life a‘nd all that was necessary to establish her identity, and then begged me to say as little as might be. You saw how deeply affected she was by the sight of her mother just now.” “They must have suffered. And she has locked the picture into dark- ness again. Well, it is best. It will be the burial of the past. I can never do énough for her Guy." The thought of the dreary past overcame the old man, and he sank into a. chair, and with downcast eyes rested his head on his hand. “I do not think we need to fear that. She told me there was no one in the world to regret her since her mother died.” “Her mother? Has she said much to you about. her mother?” “Too much; I am afraid,” was the almgst inaudible reply. “Have you told her, Guy, What is the dearest wish of my heart?” "You 1ncanâ€"-" He hesitated. "I. mean your marriage.” "How could 1?” “True,” assented Sh- Richard, with a. light laugh, “it, would not have come with very good grace from you, would it? I am not mistaken in the symptoms, am I, Guyâ€"you love her, do you not?” 1 “Is she not? Why did you not tell me she was beautiful and accomplishâ€" ed?â€"so different from what I had every reason to fear she might be. Blood Will tell, Guy. Why, she bears herself as if she had been accustomed to having the whole world at her feet.” _ How little either suspected that the doting father’s Words were true in a. sense neither thought of. Yes, she had been 'accustomed to having the world at her feet, and more than once that evening she had thought, with a. bitter sense of humor, how she was merer practising ‘on a small audience What she had been used to doing on a large one. Guy assented to his uncle's words with another sigh, which this time did not escape the old man’s notice. He turned quickly, and asked: The older man lbokcd at him with a smile of comprehension and pleaâ€" sure. , “Could anyone help loving her,” he ggked proudly. “She is ivory Beautiful,” was the answer, accorppagjed by a. sigh. “There is hothing VI would not do to make Constance happy,’ returned the young man, with a singular fer- vor. Sir Richard and Guy stood enâ€" tranced, listening to the weird, sorâ€" rowful strain as it poured sadly from the awakened instrument. Sir Richard' placed his hand on Guyi-s arm, and there were tears in his eyes as he said; “She is not happy, Guy. We will make her so if there is power in love. Yolu__will help me Guy?” sat there now, she forgot those who were in the room with her, and in- stinctively drifted into one of those wonderful songs without Wgrds into which the gifted Mendelssohn poured so much feeling and emotion. Her execution was marvellous, and show- ed careful training, but her expres- sionâ€"which is to music what the soul is to the bodyâ€"proved her a. natural musician. By the Author of"... u A Glpsy's Daughter." " Another Plan's Wile," “ A Heart’s Bitterness." Etc., Etc. 5": The old man flushed at the words, as if feeling that they carried a re- preach to him, but with touching humility said nothing that would in- dicate it. "You must be tired,” he said. “Shall We not say good-night?” "Perhaps it would be better,” she answered. "I hope you will have sweet Gxeams and refreshing sleep the first “I wish you did Want them,” he said, quickly, and then, as she did not ask him Why, as he had expected he went on,‘ "because they are inseâ€" parable from me.” "I hope you have not caught cold,” exclaimed her father, who had overâ€" heard her last Words, as she stepped through the window. ' "Oh; no. I am not so delicate. I aniused to exposure. ” "Then of course, I could not Want them. ' Let us go in. How cool your nights are.” "I do not, know how it was said, Constance,” he replied, sadly. “I only know that I would give title, estate, and all if I could but please you.” “ButI (16 no}. want the title, nor the estate.” She affected to misunderstand him, anisaidj lightly: "Nothing that affects me. Your father’s wealth, of which there is a. great deal, will be lost to me; but I hope I do not need to assure you that I am only too glad to lose it under the circumstances.” “I know you are generous.” "I am not generous in this,” he answered. “How so?” she demanded quickly. "The happiness of. pleasing you overshadows every other feeling. I am rewarded for any loss by‘ the feeling that you have gained some- thing thereby.” "That her only ling tone. “The Hall, with a, small and the title, will be mine case.” "But my coming will make some digggenfzgs to you?" She turned away again, and said, coldly: “Hartleigh Hall is very beautiful.” “Very,” he answered. "If Ihad not been found would there have been any difference to you?” For some minutes no word was spoken between the cousins. Con- stance was gazing out across the lawn, seemingly watching the fli§~ ting moon shadows as they chased each other across the treeâ€"tops. Guy was watching her. It was enjoyâ€" ment enough for him. Suddenly, as was so often the case, she became conscious chat he was looking at; her and she turned quickly toward him and said: “Why do you look at me so ninth?" "I have seen poor little children looking in at a jeweler’s window,‘ longing for the diamonds there.” “Beauty and treachery do someâ€" times go together,” she said, as if thinking aloud. And then she stepâ€" ped through the window and stood alone in the moonlight with the man she had said she would marry. “It could not be more beautiful. If you Would like to see an English night at its best, Constance, you would be wise to come out here." Glad of any diversion, she ex; pressed her readiness, and started for the window, and would have gone out had not her father laughingly detained her until‘ he could Wrap something about her, saying: “The night may be bevautgifu], but it, is none the less treacherous.” “In time, of course,” agreed the delighted old man, “in time‘. You must, have a. life full of happiness first. Ah, here is Guy. Is it a. fine night, Guy?” "I do not need to consider it. Something told me that; you had this at heart. I know of no reason why I should not, be his wifeâ€"in time.” The beautiful face Was downcast now, and very pale. And as she listened to her father she could not help thinking of that night in- San Francisco, when Caryl Wilton had told her of his love. She did not know why she thought of it. She did not love the man, and yet she had thought of him more than once since she had become Constance Hartleigh. It seemed very long ago. She was silent for a few moments after her father ceased speaking, and then said, in a, low tone, devoid of all emotion: -â€"-but if there is no obstacle, could you look forward to being his Wife. Remember, my darling, that your will shall, be the law. If you have engaged your heart elsewhere, or if for any reason you would rather not have it so, you need fear no opposi- tion from me. Do not answer now. Take time to consider it." â€"What you are, we had fOI‘med a little plan. I could not have hoped that you were so beautiful, so fit to grace the throne of a queen if necesâ€" sary; "and then we had arrangedâ€"â€" Guy and Iâ€"that he would insure your proper reception by the world by marrying you. And now that you are What you areâ€"I am afraid I do not express myself as I should “Before you were found, and when it sgemed as if you could not be What ‘fI will not speak of it now, When you have just returned home, but that it'seems better to have it un- derstoodat once. Besides, you know Guy, and it is not as if he were» a strangerto you.” Shev seemed to comprehend what was coming, but she only looked ex- pectantly at her father, and he went She_,turned a. little pale, but an- sweféd Steadily that she would. is very nicely said,” was comment, made in a chilâ€" CHAPTER VII. estate, in any A quick flush, followed by a deadâ€" ly pallor, showed on the fair face, but she answered steadily: “Never.” "Here’s bad news," I suddenly exâ€" ‘claimed Guy, Without looking up from his paper. "Do you remember {that Maida, Carr'ingford, who made {such a sensation in California and ‘was to have come to London?” Sir Richard answered yes, but Maida. only put down the cup she was holding, and listened with a. set; face. Guy continued: "IP, seems that, she was killed in an attack on an overland stage in which she was traVeling. Why, Con- "And still fender of amateur-the- ratricals. Have you ever acted, Constance? I mean on the amateur stage?" and‘ the old " man 'looked smilingly at. his daughter. "Not quite as bad as that, uncle,” remonstrated Guy. “I am fond of ther theatre though.” “Guy wants nothing now, but to be allowed to read his theatrical news. He is daft on the drama, Constance." Guy came, in, with the flush of exâ€" ercise on his cheeks, and looking as handsome as any Woman could deâ€" sire. He greeted his cousin with some embarrassment, and put his uncle's mail by his plate. Then he sat down in an easy chair and asked permission of his cousin to read his papers. She gave it with so gracious an air that he sighed softâ€" ly and looked Wistfully at her, whereupon she seemed annoyed, and turned to her father to' ask if he would have both cream and sugar in his coflee. "You must not trouble yourself, my clear," he answered. “But it, will be only a pleasure,” she said, as she took her seat at the table and arranged the cups. “WiI, you not drink a. cup of coffee, Guy?” “Thank you, no.” 1 Sir Richard looked“around at his1 nephew, and said, laughingly: “Not at all. I always breakfast late, and Guy is always early. He has been out for a gallop or a. row on the lake. Here he is now, and he has the mail with him.” long?” "I am so sorry to be so leité,”‘she saidlu "Have I kept you waiting And so, torn between her emotions, she mechanically extinguished her lamp and retired to her luxurious couch to fall into a, slumber which lasted until late the next morning. Sir Richard was Waiting for her when she Went down stairs, and she kissed him with such an air of ten- derness that he flushed with joy. She threw base” on the bed and wept fierce, bitter tears. Some of them were for herself and some were for Guy; but most of them were for the old man, who, whatever his sins, was her father. After a while she arose and dried her tears, and with :1. reaction of bitter scorn hated herâ€" self for the unworthy part she was playing. "Oh, mother, mother!" she Wailed, “how could you blight my life with the wrongs of your own?’ If you knew how gentle and good the old man is, could you have made me promise as I did? If you had known how true and generous Guy is could you have wished me to deceive him as I must? And yet”â€"-she started from the chair and clenched her handsâ€"“is it not justice after all? Is not his atonement for the other woman, and not a particle ot‘ it for the poor, wronged outcast-made so by his actâ€"and never even rcâ€" memberetl? I must look at it so. Oh, mother, mother, I must think of that or I shall falter! The poor old man!” All of her past life, from the night her mother died, seemed to have lost itself in a strange distance of time. It seemed so very long ago. But every incident of that time was as clear to her as if it had been burned into her memory. She could see her mother dying and vengeful; the words of her promise to the dying woman were before her eyes in blazing let- ters of fire. Then she saw her sister, with thevswcet face upturned to heaâ€" ven, rigid in death; then herself flee- ing from her. There ended her hap- piness. Since then she had been liv- ing a. life full of falseness and wrong. But she dismissed her maid as soon as she could, and then locked herself in With a. sigh of relief. She threw herself into an easy cushioned chair, and knitted her brows in deep and troubled thought. Alone there, with no fear of prying-eyes to surâ€" prise her thoughts on her face, she gave. Way to her feelings. ‘ night of your return- home," he said, gefit‘ly‘filéjs hé took her hand and kis- ‘sed it. “ She left them and went to her own chamberâ€"a perfect gem which Sir Richard had fitted up ith all the luxury wealth and good taste could command. Her maid awaited her, and conducted her into the dressing- room where she assisted her to Reâ€" move her garments. No one would have supposed, to see her then, that. she had ‘ever disrobed without a maid, she submitted herself to her offices so naturally. Neifiher- Sir Richard nor Guy un- derstood what she meant then; they thought it was merely the cry of a forlorn heart; but in times' after they remembered it and understood better. 31-1431 idemeanor had been studiously cold, but at this act a struggle seemâ€" _e_d to take place in her breast. She had aiready taken a. stop to leave him, butfshe suddenly turned, ‘ and puttin both’hands 'on his shoulders kisselL firm on- the lips.‘ vHe .caught. he'r‘in‘ his arms and murmured-brokâ€" enly: . . ‘ “My daughter! ‘my daughter! 'how good yuu are to me!” . “I wish! could be,” she cried; “for, 011! you am' my father.” Please excuse William from school today, wrote the boy’s mother to " the teacher, as he sat up late last night. studying his lessons and is- too sleepy to come today, According to a. scale of value fur- nished by the miners’ unions and mincrs’ accident insurance companies of Germany, the loss of both hands is valued at 100 per cent., or" the Whole ability :to earn a. living. Los- ing the right hand dcpreciates the value of an individual as a worker 70 to 80 per cent., while the loss of the left hand represents from 60 to 70 per cent. of the earnings of both hands. The thumb is reckoned to be: Worth from 20 to 30 per cent. of the earnings. The first finger of the right hand is valued at from 14 to 18 per cent., that of the left hand at from 8 to 13% per cent. At length Bismarck’s attention was directed to the great general, upon whose sagacity the fortune of the fight so largely depended. Moving up to him, Bismarck quietly struck a iusee, applied it to Moltke’s cigar, and the welcome sight of the blue tobacco smoke curling up from the commander’s lips rewarded the at- tention of the Chancellor. Bismarck drawing back in his solid way, said, with Aex‘ultation in his voice: ‘All must i now be well, Moltkel smokes again.” The battle was won. A Sulphur Match That Won the Battle of Gravelotte. It is sum that at the battle of Gravelotte, during the Francoâ€"Prus- sian war, there was for some hours. at a critical point of the field, an appearance of greater success on the part of the French than of the Ger- mans. Von Moltke had been made aware of the perilous position of his forces in that quarter, and he hur- ried to the spot. For some time it was observed by those. around him that he appeared much more anxious than usual. He gained a prominent position, where he was greatly exposed to the enemy’s fire. He held his cigar be- tween two fingers of his left hand, from time to time striking a fusee, and applying it to the wood, but al- ways neglecting to put the cigar be- tween‘his lips. When the crisis of the day was evidently approaching the last fusee had been burnt, and nothing but the cold ashes of Moltke’s cigar remained. Guy looked quickly at his cousin} a. bright ‘flush‘ mounting to his cheeks, and there was a World of meaning in the blue eyes that met her brown ones. “MOLTKE SMOKES AGAIN.” Constance flushed slightly, as she caught the glance, and then, with that strange coldness which had so often repelled him, walked to the Window and looked out. And the old man glanced at his beautiful daughter with so much pride and affection that she arose with a sudden impulse and went around to him and kissed his fore- head, saying: ~ “You will spoil me.” “We can’t spoil you,” answered he fondly, “but we will do all that love can to make you happy, Won’t We, 1uy?” “What do you say then; Con8r stance, will you ride?” "Anything to please you.” “But I want ybu to please your- self." “I ’see We shall have to watch her Guy. She is disposed to be reckâ€" less.” " “I like nothing better than _a. good gallop, and only ask that you will not select for me too tame a. horse." “You will have a. trying ordeal to pass through during the coming few days, for all the county will call upon you," he said, "and you must not be worn out. If you could only ride horseback, now." “I can do that, if it will please you,” she said. "Oh, then, if you can ride, it will be all right until we can get, the ponies for you. Is there' a. horse in the stables she can ride, Guy'fl’ “Scamp is safe, and as spfy g. lit- tle horse as ever trod turf.” VALUATION OF LOST LIMBS. “Oh, you must not be worried about me. If I am pale it is only for the moment, and proves what a. foolish girl I am more than anything else.” Sir Richard shookhis head'indovâ€" ing dissenting dissent, for he would not have this wonderful fiaughter of his take the slightest risk. She smiled faintly, by way of an- swer, for she had not yetrecovered from the shock of the memories whichGuy’s words had recalled to her. v "She must have outdoor exerciée, Guy. It won’t do to have her look- ing pale.” “We must have a pair of ponies for her. Guy. You must go down to the city at the first opportunity and get them for her. Haze you any choice for color, Constance?” Guy glanced keenly at her and ac- quiesced with his uncle. “You Varevlooking pale, my dear," said Sir Iligllgrfl, isuddenly. It was nothing very much. Con- stance had let a. cup ' of hot coffee fall on the floor and had sca‘lded herâ€" self a, very little. She was ashamed to have cried out. No, she Was not Vreally scalded after all. She was a. great deal more frightened than hurtq She contrived, however, -to prevent. any further talk about Maida Car- fingford, and the subject was not taken up again. stanée, it. must’ huvé/becm afnout the -â€"Oh! What is it?" To be Continued.