The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

CHAPTER XXIIIâ€"(Continued). Half an hour later they went slowly up the steps again. Stafford's head W“ still burning. he still felt confused. lll‘K‘ n_man moving in a dream. Since he had kissed her he had said very little: and the silences had been broken more of by M‘nudo than by him. She had him in a low voice. tremuloua with 10W- and hesitatlng now and ngfllll. 11"” She had fallen in love with him the day he had rowed her on the Lake; how she had struggled and striven against the feel- ing. and how it had conquered her. How miserable she had been. thouzh 5119 had tried to hide, her misery, lest he should never come to care for her. and she should have to suffer that most merciless of all miseriesâ€"unrequited love. She seemed as if she scarcely wanted him to speak. as if she took it for granted that he had spoken the truth and that he had loved her: and as if it were a joy to he? to bare her heart, that he might see how devotedly it throbbed for him and for him alone. Every now and then Stafford GDOke a. few words in response; he scarce- ly knew what he said. he could not haVO told what they were ten minutes after they were said; he sat with his arm \round her like a man playing a part me- chanically. In the same condition he moved beside her now as arm in arm they entered £110 houss, he looked straight before him with a. set face. a. forced smile. she with now raised. now drooping eyes glowing with “lumph. a flush on her usually pale face. her lips apart and tremulous. The ball was breaking up. some of the women had already gone to the drawing-room or their own .apartments; a stream of men were making their way to the billiard- room from which came the popping 0f champagne-corks and the hissing of 5?- Dhoue. As they entered the hall. Howard came lounging out in his leisurely way. from the drawing-room. and at sight of him Stafford seemed to awake, to realize what he had done and how he stood. He lodged from Howard to Maude. then he as : "Howard. I want you to congratulate me. Miss Falconerâ€"Maudeâ€"has promised to be my wife.” ‘Hownrd did not start, but he stared in silence for an instant. then his eyelids flickered. and. forcing the astonishment from his face. he took Stafford's hand and shook it. and bowed to Maude. "I do congratulate you with all my heart. my dear Stafford. and I hope you'll both.be as happy as the happiest pair in a. fairy story." §he drew her arm threw Stafiord‘s. .'I Wlll go up now." she said. "Good- night!" Stafford stood until she had got as far as the bend in the stairs: then Howard. who had discreetly gone on, turned to go back to him. But as he came up with a. word of wonder and repeated congratula- tions. he saw Stafford put his hand to his forehead and. as it seemed to Howard. almost stagger. There are moments when the part of even one's best friend is silence, blind- ness. Howard turned aside. and Stafford went .on slowly. with a kind of enforced steadiness. vto the billiard-room. While Howard. with dismay and apprehension was looking after him. he heard “Mr. Howard!" called softly. mockingly. from the stairs, and looking up. saw Maude Falconer leaning over. with her arm ex- tendednher hand open. ' ' He understood in a moment.- and. re- moving his ring as he ran up the stairs. puI._ it on .the soft. pink pill-m.QShe gave a little triumphant, mocking laugh. her hand closed over the ring. and then she glided away from him. . . w ,The jamming-room was crowded as Stafford made his way in. Through the clouds of smoke he saw his father stand- ing at one end. surrounded by the money- spinning crew. Falconer seated in a chair iicar_him with a black cigar be- tween his lips. The group were laughing and talking loudly, and all had glasses in their hands. Some of the younger men who had "just come from the ball-room. were adding their laughter and chatter to theuimse. Dazed and confused, half- mad ivith rage and despair. with a sense that hate was joining her mocking laugh- tcr Wth that of the men round him, Staf- ford took a glass of wine from the butler who advanced with it. and drinking it off held lt‘ollt to be refilled. The man re- .filled it twice. and Stafford. his eves unanie. .ulmost pushed his way through the various groups to where his father stood. ave come for your congratulation. Sir. he said. in a voice which. though not loud. was so clear as to break through the row. "Miss Falconer has promised to be my wife!" A Silence. so sudden as to be startling. fell upon the hot and crowded room; then, as St: Stephen grasped his son's hand. a din of veices arose. an excited buzz of congratulations and good wishes. Staf‘ ford faced them all. his face pale and set. his lips curved with a. forced smile. his eyes flashing, but lit with a sombre fire. There was a smile on his lips. a falls amiably in his eyes. but there was so much of_nindness in his heart that he was afraid lest at, any moment he should dash. the glass to the ground and break out into cursing. An hour later he found himself in his room. and waving Measoni away from him. he wont to the window and flung it Wide Open. and stood there with his hands pressed against his throbbing brow; and though no word came from his parched lips. his heart cried: "Ida! ldii!" with all the agony of de- Ipair. CHAPTER XXIV. The hours dragged along as Stafford faced the tragedv of his life. As he paced the room or flung himself into a chair. \Ylf-ll his head bowed in his hands. the effects of the wine he had taken, the sup- prmsed excitement under which he had labored. passed away. and in the reaction his brain cleared. and he began to real- A POOIlSll Young Man; Or, the Belle of the Season. l l ize the terrible import of the stop lie Ind v taken. the extent of the sicritice he had made. _His own life was wrecked rind ruined ii-reparably: not only his own. bu: that of the girl he loved The step he had taken was not irreparable but irrevoc- nble: he could not go back. .ed Maude Falconer to be has wife. he had spoken words which must have sounded to her as words of love. he had kmsul her lips. In :1 word. he was pledged to her. and the pledge could not be broken, Afid :Itlfill rig-at should he do in regard o‘er. we win~ ironch I .' ‘> i‘ eel; ngs underwent .ny chakligléx‘z'olgugdss er he would not go and tell her. And at that moment. he felt that the promise had not been 5‘;- v;iiii one; for he knew that he could lit-I go to her. that at sight . . . of be; h; i‘qsgiutzgu would mil: like snow in tie sun. that is .ove or her would sweep him away on :i torrent pdréloll. and that he would be :is fate to liiiudc Falconer as he had been to Ida. And yet he cou‘d no: l<‘:i\'e her. desert licr~ .Vci. that was the wordiiwithout making <01llt s ll. \\‘l§.llO\ll speaking one word. not of L‘Xt'lle‘t’. but of farewell. What rould he say to her? He Could not tell her the truth: for his father‘s sake that ‘ pezs straight before Gridenbcrg and (he Ilt‘ llthl LiSk-‘ of: | l must never be divulged; he could give her no explanation, must permit her to think him base and fiiithlcss and dishonorable. There was only one thing he could do. and that was to write to her. But what could he say? He went to his writing-fable and took up a. pen. His hand was cold notice and shaking. and he held it before him until it. grew stendicr. At the best of times. Stafford was not much of .'l. letter-writer: one does not learn the eplfitolat'y. 3m, either at public schools or the 'YarSities, and hitherto Stafford's letter-writing had been confined to the sending. or, accept» ing of invitations. a short note about horse dealing. How was he to address her? She was his dearest still. the only woman in the world he had lov- ed or ever would love. but he dared not call her so, (lured not tell her so. He wrote her namc. but the sweet word seem- ed to look up zit him reproachfully. ac- cusingly; and though he had written only that name. he tore up several. sheets of paper. and at last. in desperation. scarce- ly knowing what he was writing. he wrote quickly, hurriedly. and without pausing. the following lines: “I am writing you this because you made me promise that if anything hap- pened. let it be what it might. to separate us. I would not come and tell you. Some- thing has happened. I have discovered.' that I am not only unworthy of calling you mine as any man in the world. even 1 . vould be. but that I am uni me DEL" ‘ the sense that would justify of your father. of every- to you. in sending me ld. tell you what it is you and see how great a gullf yawns between us. You would not marry me. I can never be anything to you but a painful memory. Though you know how much I love you. you Will never guess what it costs me to relinquish all claim to you. to tear myself away from you. But I must do sortind for ever. Fl‘here is no hope. none whateverhfor me. I do not. ask you to forgive mevif I had known what I know now I would rather have died than have told you that I lov< ed vou. but I do ask you to forget, me; or. if you remember me. to think of me as the most wretched and ill-fated of men: as one who is bound hand and foot. . and compelled. driven. along‘ a path against his will. I dare not say any more. dare not. tell you what this sacri- fice costs me. Whether you forget or re- member me. I shall never forget. you far a. single instant. shall never cease to look back upon my lost happiness. as a man k b' k u on a lost heaven. ‘00 s N p "Stafford." you in the eyes . belonging adrift. If I cou would undemtand He read it over a dozenâ€"twenty times. and every time it seemed weaker, meaner, lees inexplicablle; but he knew that if he destroyed it he could write nothing bet, nothing that could satisfy him, though it seemed to him that his heart would have expressed itself more fully if he had written only. “Good-bye! me!" . At last, and reluctantly, he put it in an envelope and addressed it. and turned 1: face downwards on his table, so that he might not see the name which had such power to torture his heart. Forget He was, as a rule. so moderate in drink- ing that the wine he had taken. supple- mented by his misery. made him- feel physically ill. He shuddered with cold as :later oh he dived into the‘water. and as he swam out he felt. for the first=timo in his life. a slight twinge of cramp. At an- other time he would have been somewhat alarmed. for the strongest. sw1mmer is absolutely helpless under an attack of cramp. but this morning he was 'indif- ferent. and the thought struck him that it would be well for him if he flung up his arms and went down to the bottom of the Lake on the shores of which he had experienced such exquisite joy. such un- uttcrable misery. He met no one on his way back to the house. and went straight to his room. The swim had removed some of the traces of,last. night's work. but he still looked haggard and worn, and there was that expression in his eyes which a man's wear when he has been battling with a great grief or struggling against an over- whelming fate. As Measom was dressing him he asked himself how he should get the letter to Idaâ€"the only letter he had ever written her. the only letter he would probably ever write to her. He decided that he would send it over by Pottinger, whom he knew he could trust not only to deliver the letter. but to refrain from telling any. one that he had been sent with it. He put it. in the pocket of his shooting-coat and went downstairs. intending to go straight to the stables to find Pottinger; but as he went. through the hall, Murray, the secretary. came out of? the library. and Sir Stephen caught sight of Stafiord‘ through the open door. and called to him. Stafford went in. and his father rose from the table on which was allready plli ed a heap of letters and papers. and tak. iiig Stufiord's hand. laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are early, my boy." he said, "I did not expect to see you for hours yet; couldn't you sleep? You look rather tired. Stafford; you were late last night. andâ€"ah. wcll! there was some excuse for a littilo excitement and exaltation." He smiled whimsicully, as a father does at a. son who has for once gone beyond the strict bounds of moderation and look- ed upon the wine cup too often. "Yes, I've rather a. head on this morn- ing. sir." said Stafford, quietly, accept. ing the suggestion as an excuse for his ill-looks. "I drank and smoked, mg: night. more than I usually do. You 100k as fresh as usual. sir." he added. with unconscious irony. Sir Stephen threw up his head sliort laugh. "Oh. my work wasn't~ finished lust; night. my dear boy!" he said. And Mun ray and I have been at it since seven o’clock. I want to put some of these pa- w itli a rest leave today.” "they are going today?“ said Stafford. ‘ “Oh. yes; there will he :i general oxch us. A great many of the people were only staying until we could be sure we' had puiled this railway soliciiic throuth Falconer :iiid li‘“ diluglliel‘il be; yatirl pardon. my don. Stafford, I incan Llaudci - ~11ilked of gotug 10-day. But I persiiud“ cd them to Sid)‘ unt:‘i l i go to Lindon to-znnrrmx: 1 though: you would like to w 'li iliijn." e smi.cd as :i f.i::;r>r is planning Li pie ir "Yes. I should 1 c ‘ " quietly. “Bu: could I ‘Oii, yes.” suLd Sir Stephen. "'l‘lie oiliers i entertain themselves. Bes‘dcs. i: “as an understood thing you should be free to go and <‘Ollli‘ as you pleiisx-ii. Of course. you would like to go with .\l:lu.ln_ “Of course." cclmul Sanford. his files on the ground. As he w Luring the room his father wk 1: L“. from ' tattle. held 1'. up .iml Ciro ‘ "You'Ll he w;iii Ft”th for your lad. "I am plat-mg a tl Her First Hair-1‘1) Studio-Port 'iiii: l’rini-css Diary, the Grown-['11. Princess Mary. it is. of courie. unnecessary is the only daughter of our King and Queen. Her full names are Victoria Alexandra, Alice Mary. 25, 1897. to remind our readers, She was born on April credit at your bank. I don't know whe- ther you'll think that is cnough-â€"" "Quite enough." said Stafford, in a low voice. ""Thank you! You are very gener< ousâ€"e Sir Stephen winced and held up his hand. "What is mine is your: from this m0-: ment. my dear Stafford," he said. i Stafford went out by the door at the} other end of the hall. and made his way; to the stables. Just as he was crossing; the lawn the temptation to ride over to= Heron Hall and leave .the note himself as-: sailed him strongly. He took the letter from his pocket and looked a: it wist fully. But he knew that he dared not run the risk of meeting Ida. and With a sigh he went on towards the stables. carrying the note in this hand. And as he turned away Maude Falconer let fall the cur- tain which she had raised at her window so that she might watch him. She stood for a moment with her dressing-gown held together with one white hand, her_ lids half closed. “He has written to her." she said to herself. "Has he broken with her for good, or will he try and keep her? I would give something to see that letter. to know exactly how he stands. And‘how I stand! I wonder how he will send it? He is taking it to the stables." She thought a moment. then she smiled. “Potr‘ tinger!" she murmured. Stafford found Pottinger giving the last loving touches with :i silk handkerchief to Adonis. His coat and waistcoat were off, his shirt open iii the neck and his sleeves turned up. He touched his fore‘ head with a respectful and welcoming greeting. and without any siir rise; for Stafford very often paid an ca y visit to the stable, and had more than once lent a hand in grooming a favorite horse. “Looks well, sir. don't be?" said Pottin- the glossy gar, passing a hand over black and finishing up with a loving smack. “I'm rather late this up iiig. sir." He smiled and looked a littlc sileep‘ ish. “We had a little bit of a. jolilifica- tion in the servants hall. on our own account. sir. and were enjoying ourselves like our betters.” “That‘s right," said Stafford. Some- thing in his voice caused Pottinger to glance at him with surprise and appre- hension; but. of course. he could not say anything, but he dropped his eyes re- spectfully after the one glance at Staf- ford's haggard face. ' "I want you to take a letter for me this morning. Poitinger." said Stafford. “You can take Adonis; it will exercise him. as I slimll not ride him to-day. Here is the letter. Heron Hall lies on the other side of the river. I want the letter taken there early this morning." Pottinger touched his forehead. “I know the Hall. sir; I've ridden over there with messages from the housekeeper and from Mr. Davis." “There will be no answer," said Stafford. "Simply leave it." "Yes. sir." said Pottinger. “Would you mind putting it in my saddle-wallet. sir? I won't touch it till my hands are clean." Stafford put the letter in the wallet. aid a. few words to Adonis and some of the other horses. and then left. the stable. He heard voices on the terrace. and. to avoid meeting anyone until he was com- pelfled. he went down the slope of the lawn. and. seating himself on a bank, lit a cigarette. From her window. Maude Falconer. now attired in a. simple but exquisitely effect- ive morning frock. could ‘see him. After watching him for a minute or two. she went. to her writin -table. and wrote two .or three notes quick y. and, with these in her pocket. went downstairs and through the hall to the‘ stable courtyard. Pottin- ger was still finishing off Adonis. and he drew himself up and saluted as she en- tered the stables. As a rule her manner to the servants and her inferiors wa cold and haughty. but, as Stafford h discovered flast night. she could be soft and gentle when she chose. and now she smiled at Pottinger and the house in a fashion that almast dazzled that ingenu- ous youth. At the same time her eye had noted Pottinger's coat and waistcoat which hung on a hook at the stall-post with the saddle-wallet slung over them. The coat was an old one with gaping poo. kets. and there was no sign of a. letter in them. or in the waistcoat. Instinctively, she knew that it, was in the wallet. (To be continued.) +____ A Recipe For Old Age. Aunt Huldalri claimed that she was well past the century mark, though the date of her birth was shrouded in mystery. Whether slie was as old as she claimed or not, there could be no doubt that she had lived to a good old age. and one day a bright young news- paper man conceived the idea. of interviewing her on the subject of long life. “Shel” sniffed Aunt Huldah. “Anybody kin grow to be old. Dey ain’t no trick in dot.” “But howl” queried the reporter. “All you got to do is to watch out there would be but "’-' [LI On; making some and games the .i least expensive item is the sugar- ET the sugar is the most important ingredient because . if its quality is not right, your confections will ferment, spoil, not be sufficiently sweet or be flavourless. With St. Lawrence Sugar results are always satisfactory. St. Lawrenc Ext: G Suglna is sold it all lg.b;:gu§ltleb‘l ecae cartons an in a a of 10 lbs., 20 lb .. £5 lb ., 1001b... 5 s 50 bl., and Order a be of St. Lawrence Extra Granulatc Sugar El 0 Tagâ€" the Medium Size Gralnfi hls size suit: modtpeople be“; good grocers everywhere can supply you. St. Lawrence Sugar Réineries, Limited, Montreal. NED. Inulnvl" » yr; :tzie-ngagu'a’: automobile and don’t let no run} over you.” An Hilarious Announcement. Mrs. Noowed-“Orh, cock is going to leave us in morning 1” Mr. Noowedâ€"“What makes you} think so 1” “Why, she‘s been sitting on the kitchen floor with a bottle in herl hand. singing. And when I askedi her what was the matter. She the. the bottle at me and said. “We won’t go home until morning.’ ” John. our thel Riches have wings â€"â€" otherwise1 few high flyers.; __.. . Deming Twist the Coi ,7 w ,.. x. i .' Box ' ‘i-‘i.