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A PflflllSll Y i 6 ii iii Or, the Belle of the Season. CHAPTER XXVIII. When Ida. went upstairs for the wash. the need for which Miss Isabel had so kindly informed her of. she found that her room was clean and fairly comfort- arble. though its appearance seemed strange after the huge and old-fashioned one at the Hall. The furniture was chcflfi and unsubstantiul. the towels were sma. and thin; in place of pictures, aggresswe- l" illuminated texts scarred the walls like freshly made wounds. andthe Place had a bare. homeless look which made Ida shudder. The dining-room. when she went down to it. did not impress her n.ny.more fa- vorably; for here, too. the furniture was new and shiny with a. sticky kind of shini- ness. as if the treacly varnish had not yet dried; there was not a comfortable chair in the room: the pictures were the most gruesome ones of Dore's. and there was a. text ovor'the mantelpiece‘ as aggres- sive and as hideous in coloring as those in her room. A lukewarm leg of mutton. very undcrdone. was on the table. the cloth of which was by no means clean; the dishes, which contained quite cold vegetables. were cracked and did not match; the bread was of the commonest kind. that which is called “household; the knives were badly cleaned. and the plate was worn off the forks and spoons. It was considered inelegant to have gas in the dining-room, therefore a cheap paraffin lamp was in the centre of the table, and was more liberal of scent than light. The curtains to the window were of that annoying rod which shricks down any other color near it; they made Ida s tired eyes ache. _ While she was trying to eat the slice of gory mutton, Mrs. Heron and Isabel watched her, as if she were some aborig- iiial from a wild and distant country, and the" shot. glances at each other. un- easy, half-jealous. halfâ€"envious glances. as they noted the beauty of the face, and the grace of; the figure in its black dress, which plain as it was, seemed to make theirs still more dowdy and vulgar. In the midst of his lugubrious account of the annoyances and worries of the jour- ney. Mr. Heron broke off to ask: “Where is Joseph? He is night." “He is kept at the office." replied his mother. "Poor boy! I hope he is not working too hard; he has been kept Work- ing nearly every night this week." Isabel smiled slilv at Ida. for what reason Ida could not guess: and while she was wondering. there came a knock at the outer door. and presently Joseph entered. He was an unpreposses-sing young man with small eyes and thick lips, over which it would have been wise of him to wear a. big moustache; but it was the fashion in the City to be clean-shaven, and Mr. Joseph considered himself the pink of fashion. His clothes fitted him too tight. ly. he wore cheap neckties, and ready- made boots. of course, of patent leather. His dark hair was plastered on the low. retreating forehead; his face was flushed instead of being, as one would expect. pale from overwork. Ida disliked him at the first glance, and disliked him still more at the second, as she caught his shifty eyes fixed on her with a curious and halfinsolently admir- ing expression. He came round and shook hands~his were damp and cold like his father'sâ€"as Mr. Heron introduced them. and in a voice which unpleasantly matched his. face. said that he was glad to see her. “Tired, Joseph. dear?" murmured his mother, regarding him with a. mixture of pride and commiseration. “Oh. I‘m worn out, that's what I am." he said. as he sank into a. chair and re- garded the certainly untempting food with an eye of disfavor. "Been hard at it all the evening"â€"he spoke’ with a Cock- ney accent. City accent. and was rather uncertain about his aspiratesâ€"“I work like a nigger." “Labor is prayer." remarked his father, as if he were enunciating something strikingly original. “Nothing is accom- plished without toil, my dear Joseph." My dear Joseph regarded his father with very much the same expression he had bestowed upon the mutton. “And how do you like London. Cousin Ida?" he asked. He hesitated before the "Cousin Ida." and got it out rather defiantly. for there was something in the dignity of this pale. refined face which awed him. It was per- haps the first time in his life Mr. Joseph had sat :it the same table with a lady; for Mr. John Heron had married beneath him, and for money; and in retiring from the Bar. at which he had been an obvious failure. had sunk down to the society of his wife's class. "I have seen so little of it." replied Ida. "I have only passed through London twice on my way from France to Hei‘ondale. and from Herondale here." Mr. Joseph was duly impressed by the sound of lIerondale. "Oh. you must tell me all about your old home." he said. with an air of over. confidence to conceal his nervousness; “and we must show you about London a. bit: it's a tidy little place." He grinned with an air of knowiiigness, and seemed rather disconcerted that Ida did not return his smile. "Shall I give you some water. Ida ?" said Mr. Heron. . “I regret that I cannot offer you any wine. We have no intoxicants in the house. We are all total abstain- ers. on principle." The other members of the family look- ed‘down uncomfortably, and to Ida’s sur- prise as if they were ashamed. "Thank you." shc said; "I do not care for wine." ‘jI am afraid there are a great many things you will inzs: here." said Mr. He» hon. “We are a plain. but I trust God- fearing family. and we are content with the interest. which springs from the daily round. the common task. You will find no excitenieiits at Lllllul‘lllllll Villa." Ida. as she glanced at the family. could not help feeling that they were indeed plain. but she niadc basic to say that she. did not need any cxcitements and that l\(‘l‘ life had hitherto been devoid of them. They seemed to think that it was the proper thing to sit round the table while she was making her pretence of a late to- inezil: but when it was finished. Mr. Jo- sepli stretched himself out in what was erroneously called an easy-chair. and proceeded to monopolisc the conversation. “Regular busv time in the City." he remarked to hi. father. "Never saw such 1 bum. It's all over this boom in South Africa. They're floating that new com- pany I was telling you about. and the Stock Exchange is half wild about it. They say the shares will run to u hun-. dred per cent. premium before the week's out; and if you've got any money to spare. guv'nor, I should vet-Qwend you to have a lllllP i’uiier; or it's .i cer~ fnin " Mi. Iii-ran secmxd :o prick up his ears. with an Linn 'l if worldly interest which scarcely li.i izzod with his saintly Chal‘;i('."i‘. “Whit t-JtiLiuiiy s :li:i’?' be asked Joscpli. "Tlic <“".ll|ll‘.l‘.\' started '0 work Sir Ste plieii Oriiie‘s umcwsmn." replied Joseph. thrusting his hands deep into h.s DOV» kets. and stretching out his legs still further so that he could admire his large. DRteiit-leutlicr-vlad feet. "It‘s about the l I | l biggest thing on record, and is geing to sweep the market. All the big line are in it. Grifferbcrg and Wirsch and the Beltons. They say Sir Stephen has made half a million of money out of it already. and that he will make a couple of inil- lions before he has done with it. There was a rumor in the (‘ity to-day that he was to get a peerage; for it's a kind of national affair. you see." Ida was sitting beyond the radius of the light from the evilAsmclling llllnp, so that the others did not perceive the sud- den pallor of her face. It seemed to her a cruel fate that she could not escape. even here. so many miles away from He- rondale. from the reminder of the man she had loved and lost. The name struck on her heart like a stroke causiiig‘actual physical pain. She sat perfectly still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, as the wave of misery rwept over her. "Here is an instance of toil rewarded.’ said Mr. llcron, promptly improving tho occasion. “The laborer is worthy of his hire; and no doubt Sir Stephen Orme. by bringing vast tracts under the beiiehccnt influence of civilization, merits the an- proval of his Sovereign aml a substan- tial reward at the hands of his'fellovw subjects. Let us trust that he Will use his wealth and hiin position for the welfare of the heathen who rage in the land which he liasAer-i" “Collared.” put in Mr. Joseph. in an un- dertone and with a grin. _ . U -“Added to the King's dominions. said Mr. Heron. "I will consider about the shares. I do not approve of specula- tionâ€"the pursuit of Mammongbut as should use the money for charitable pur- poses. I may on this occasionâ€"" “Better make up your mind pretty soon." remarked Joseph. with a yawn. “There's a rush for them already." "Now that the gentlemen have got. on to business. my dear, I think we had bet- ter retire to the drawing-room," said Mrs. Heron. _with an attempt at. the "grand iady." They returned to that npartmenthr. Joseph did not open the door for themâ€"- and Mrs. Heron and Isabel at once start- ed on a. series of questions ciilculated'to elicit all the details of Ida's past life. her father‘s death and her present de- plorable condition. Women can be‘much more merciless than men in this kind of inquisition; and Ida. weary in mind and body and spirit. suffered acutely under the ordeal. The two women did not in- tend to be unkind; they were really sorry for the homeless orphan: they were pre- pared to like her; they reluctantly and grudgingly admired her beauty and her grace, and had a sneaking kind of awe of her higher social position, of which they were reminded by every word she spoke, the high-bred accent, and that in- describable air of delicacy and refinement which indicate good birth; but they were devoured by curiosity as to her mode of life and her friends. a curiosity which they were too vulgar, too inconsiderate to restrain. So poor Ida. had to describe the Hall, and the servants. and the way she managed the farm, and the way in which she rode about Herondale. They were very much impressed; specially so when she mentioned Lord and Lady Ban- nerdale's kind offer, and they exchanged glances as the titles left Ida's lips “quite as naturally as if they were common names." as Mrs. Heron afterwards re- marked to Isabel. “I'm afraid you'll find it very dull here, Ida," said Mrs. Heron. with a. sniff. “You won't find any societv in Wood Green; they're nearly all City people. and there aren't many large housesethis is as large as mostâ€"and John is very strict.” She sighed; and it was evident to Ida that though her cousin John's "religion" might be some amusement to him. it was rather a bug-bear and nuisance to his family. “But we must get. Joseph to take you about; and perhaps you and Isabel might go to a matinee or two; but John mustn't know anything about it." Ida made haste to assure them that she did not need any amusement, that she preferred to be quiet. and that she hoped» her cousin Joseph would not take any trouble on her account. At this point Mr. Heron and his elegant son came in. a bell was rung. and the two servants came up for family prayers. Ida noticed that both the maids looked bored and disconted. and that the "parlor maid.” a mere bit of a girl. appeared to be tired out. Mr. Heron read a portion of Scripture and offered up a long prayer in a harsh and rasping voice, with the man- ner of a judge pronouncing a. sentence of seven years; and as the servants were leavng the room, called tlum back. and remarked sternly: “I notice in the housekeeping book that :1 larger quantity of candles than usual has been us‘:d during the past week, and I fear that there has been grievous waste of this useful article. Do not let it occur again." The servants went out suddenly. and Mrs. Heron suggested. much to Ida's re- lief, that Ida would no doubt like to go to bed. While Ida was brushing her hair and fighting against the natural fit of depression caused by her introduction to this cheerful household. there came :1 knock at the door. and she admitted Mrs. Heron. That lady was in a soiled dress- ing-gown. bought at a sale and quite two sizes too large for her. and with a nerv- ous flush. she took from under this capa- cious garment ii small decanter of wine. "I thought you might like a little. my dear." she said. as Ida eyed it with aston- ishment. “Of course we are all total n-b- stainers here. but we keep a little in the house for medicinal purposes. unknown to John: and it's a great comfort someâ€" times when you‘re tired and in low spirits. Let me give you a glass." Ida would have liked to have accepted it. and was sorry that her refusal seem- ed to disappoint Mrs. Heron, who retired as nervously as she had entcred. A few minutus afterwards. before Ida had got over her astonishment at the incident. there came another knock at the door, and Isabel entercd in a. drcssingâ€"gown which was own sister to Mrs. Heron's. "I thought there might be something you wanted." she said, her bold eyes wandering over Ida curiously, and then roaming to the contents of Ida‘s dressing- bag which glitiei‘ed and shone on the i dressing-table. “What long hair you have! Do vou brush it every night”. I don't mine. .not every night; it's too much trouble. Are the tops of all those things real gxild? What a lot of money they must have cost! What a pretty peigno'; you have on: it real lace.“ “It's. I see it is. Ion have . nice _tliing:! wuh an envious sigh. "Dout you ever have more color than you've got iiow_.D Or perhaps it's buoauée you're tired. Ion must be tired. when I come to think of it. She dropped her voice and... id round cautiously. "Quid you like to nave a llttle br.iii.ly- and-water? I‘ve got some in my Nome of course. the rest don't know anything about it. father‘s teototcil madâ€"but 1 keep a little for when I'm tired and down in the month; and when I run out I get some from Joseph's room. Of course. he isn't a total altera‘iier. I dare-say you gue'scd that (llX‘P\il}' you saw him to. niglii, and weren't taken in by his ‘lnto at the ut’fice' bufilll(Ԥ?" Ida looked at her in amazement. .ind Isabel laughed knowingly. "Joseph goes to the theatre and D1451 ' dusty lanes. and over the commons where ‘irl'niaiis lialliiig for their Mid-Day )lcal. Members of the 20d lillilnil‘ll German Army, receivingr their ration of ham. which. with bread, consti- tutes the mid-day lunch of the fighting men of the 'Kaiser. hand to attack his share of the rations. said. with sistcrly can- dor. "He works it very cleverly; he's artful. Joseph is. and he takes father and mother in nicely; but sometimes I find a theatre programme in his pocket. and marks of chalk on his coat. Oh. I don‘t blame him! The life we lead in this house would make a cat sick. It‘s like being on a treadmill: nothing happens: it‘s just one dreary round. with mother always whining and father always preach- ing. You heard what he said to the .ser- wants to-night? I wonder they stand it. I should go out of mind myself if I didn't get a little amusement going up to the shops and sneaking into a m ttinee on the sly. I‘m sure I don‘t know how you'll stand it. after the life you've led. What do you use for your hair? It's so soft and silky. I wish I had black hair like yours. Do you put anything on your hands? They're rather brown; but that‘s because you‘ve lived in the open air so much. I suppose. I'll lend you some stuff I use. if you like." l billiards." slie Ida declined the brandy and the infal- lible preparation for whitening the hands; and not at all discouraged. Isabel went on: "Were there any young men at Heron- dale? You didn't say anything about them downâ€"stairs. but I thought perhaps you would like to tell me when we were alone. I suppose there was someone you were sorry to part from?" she added, with an inviting smile. Ida. repressed a shudder and plied her brush vigorously, -=o that her hair hid the scarlet which r'if‘fused her face. “I knew :0 Few of the people." she said. “As I told you downstairs. my father and I led the most secluded of lives, and saw scarcely anyone." Isabel ciously. "Oh, well. of course. if you don't like to tell me," she said, with a little tors of her head; “but perhaps it's too seen; when we know each other better you'll be more open. I'm sure I shall be glad of someone to tell things to." She sighed, and looked down with a sentrimenaal air; but Ida. did not rise to the occasion; and with a sigh of disap- pointment. and a last look round so that nothing should escape her. Isabel took her departure. and Ida was left. in peace. Tired as she was. it was some time be- fore she could get to sleep. The change in her life had come so suddenly that she felt confused and bewildered. It had not needed Joseph Heron's mention of Sir Stephen Orme's name to bring Stafford to her mind; for he was always present there; and she lay. with wide-open eyes and aching heart, repeating to herself the letter he had sent her. and wonder- ing why he who. she had thought, loved her so passionately. had left her. (‘om- pared with this sorrow. and that of her father's death, the smaller miseries of her present condition counted as naught. CH AFTER. XXIX. As Isnel had intimated. life at Iizibur- iiuin Villa was not altogether llll'tl'lOIlfi. ’1‘lie environs of London are undeniably pretty. prettier than those of any other capital in Europe. but there is no shirk~ ing the fact. that the Northern suburbs eyed Ida sharply and suspi- of_our great metropolis are somewhat grim and souldepresSiiig. Laburnum . Villa. was in a. long street. which re-i sembled the other streets as one tree resembles another: aiid you had to tra- verse it great many of these streets before you got into the open country. that i=. away from the red-bricked and stucco villas. and still smaller and uglier houses which had been run up by the enterpris- iiig jerry-buildn-r. But Ida would have been glad enough to have gone through this purgatory to the paradise of country lantx: which lay beyond if she could only have gone alone. But Mrs. Heron and Isabel never left her alone; they seemed to considc: it th‘l!“ duty to "keep her company. .and they could not understand her desire for me Open li.iir. much less her craving for soli- tude. I'ntil Ida's arrival. Isabel iiad never taken a walk for :i walks sake. and; for the life of her :he could not conipre» hend Ida's love of "irapsing" about the there was always Ll wind, Isabel declar- ed. to blow her hair about. If she went out. she liked to go up to London, and saunter about the hot streets. gaung‘en- viously at the "carriage people as they drove by. Ida didn't care fur London, little interest in the shops. whatever in the cai‘:..ige toks. I always pining for the fresh air. theI bmezy COllll‘lllll. the green trees: and on l the occasions when she could persuade Isabel to a country ramble. she walkedl with dreamy eyes that saw not the cut- and-drv rns:ici:y of Wood Green and \Viie‘sfone. but the wild dales and the broad exzeiit of the Cumberland hills. She was. indeed. livzng in tne~pa>i. and it was the present tllfLZ seemed a dream :0 her. Of course she missed tlie_ great llullSe‘. where she had ruled as mis'rma. and her cow,» and (logs; but her llOf‘it\~ ‘ who: she missed more than all else was her Incedom of action. took very .ind nonel She was It twas the routine. the (lull. common routine, of Laburnnim Villa. which irked so badly. Neither Mrs. Heron nor Isabel had any resources in themselves; they had few friends. and they were of the most commonplace, not to say vulgar. tYpe; and a “Tea” at Lavbiirnum Villa. triedAIda almost beyond endurance; for the Visitors talked little else but scandal. and talked it. clumsily. Most of Isabel's time was spent in constructing garments by the aid of paper‘patterns which were given away by some periodical; admir- able patterns. which, in skilful hands. no doubt. produced the most useful rt} sults: but Isabel was too stupid to avail herself of their valuable aid. and must al- ways add something which rendered the garment outre and vulgar. (To be continued.) -â€"â€"â€"â€"4- SOME FA MO I' S SIEG ES. Gallant Defence of Liege Against Tlircc German Corps. The defence of Liege by 30,000 Belgians against three German army corps numbering 125,000 will go down to history as one of the most brilliant feats of arms in the annals of war. The Franco-Prussian war of 1870- 71 was remarkable for its sieges. Bazaine held out at Metz against the Germans for nearly two months and finally surrendered with 6,000 officers and 173,000 men. For this he had to submit to courtâ€"martial and was sentenced to twenty yeai‘S’ imprisonment. Afterwards came the siege of Paris, which lasted six months. Thousands of shells were rained on the city every day by the Germans. and no fewer than 40,000 of the inhabitants succumb~ ed to disease and hunger. sible even in these days of huge guns is illustrated by C‘hukri Pasha’s gallant defence of Adrianâ€" ople last year for 155 days. Then there was the, comparatively recent great siege of Port Arthur iii the Russo-Japanese war in 1901â€"5, which finally capitiilated after be- ing blockaded by Admiral Togo for 210 days. The name of General I That lengthy sieges are quite possl Note the Soldier at left. ready with knife in [when Osman Pasha defied the Rue: ‘Slalls for 144 days and finally surf rundered on December 10th, with 30,000 men and 100 guns, owing to provisions and ammunition running short. In the same years Klara; long the ibii‘liwark of the Ottoman 'Empire in Asia. was stormed by the Russians after a siege of five months. Twenty-two years earlier the fortress had been brilliantly de‘ fended for eight months against the Russians by the Turks under General Williams, who had put- 1‘5,000 men against 50,000. Even these sieges, however, are somewhat insignificant when com- pared with some others. The long-lK est siege occurred in the Americanj Civil war, when the Confederates defended the town of Richmond for 1,485 days, or just over four years} Sebastapol, in the Crimean war." held out for eleven months, while General Gordon defended Khar-l toum against the Soudanese for 300 days. The sieges of Ladysmiibh, Kimberley, and Mafeking, in the South African war, lasted 120, 123,‘ and 261 days respectively. There is probably, however. no siege 'WlllCll‘Bl‘lilSl'lEI‘S like to read about so much as that carried out by France and Spain in their en- deavors to carry the Rock of Gibâ€"1 ral‘tar, 1779-83. Altogether the siege lasted nearly four years, and as the world knows, resulted in a. com-' pletc triumph of British arms. in spite of the fact that the enemy num’bered 30.000 to 40.000 men,' while the defenders could only musâ€". tei‘ 7.000. >3.â€" Mittlgemlfou shouldn’t say he's 5 Confirmed bachelor unless you know. Mai‘joriewBiit I do know: I confirmed him. ‘ Stoessel will rank with iii-use of the! \\711!je~L'ncle, did you ever play; greatest soldiers of modern times. In Ottoman and Russian militari history there has never been siege like that of l’levna. in l‘sTT. your life? Uncleâ€"In. Why do you ask? Willie Indian in deed. no! it fiBecause I saw a scalp on your bed room table. These Honest, T i m e -Tri e d Ingredientsâ€" In RAMSAY PAINT you get the most accurate and thorough combination of approvcd raw materials. materials cxxsr. Your own good Judgment Master :Prs will tell you no better mil tell you that scientific machine mixing is superior to gueSs-work and "hand paddling." R ' -fobâ€"and for the odd :o'os you do yourself get Il’l" right (2) e.