By MRS. LOVETT CAMERON CHAPTER XII iCnntinnPft.i Later on, the little party of excursion ists iouna a suitable spot for their pic nic beneath the smooth, mossy trunk of giant beech tree, upon the breezy sioot. of the hill behind the gardens. Here the nurse unpacked the luncheon basket they had brought and Master Roland Talbot's mouth was shut by a large help ing of real pie, whilo the poodle lay with bis nose upon his mistress's lap and was regaled with titbits from her plate. Felicia leaned her back against the tree and did the honors of the repast The nurse hav.ng discreetly retreated out of earshot with her pwn portion of the viands, the ladies proceeded to discuss what they had seen and heard. "You may depend upon it that picture Is somehow connected with Brian Des mond's life,"' said Mrs. Talbot decidedly. "Did you notice how mysterious the old woman was about ber? I wonder if she was some governess in the family, and what has become of her." "Since Mr. Desmond has married some one else, I don't see that it matters much," said Felicia indifferently. "I shall never forget that face, It was peculiar type of beauty. Has Brian Desmond been wearing the willow for her ever since, I Huuuui?" Felicia stilled a yawn; she was at a loss to understand the keenness with which her lrienj pursued the subject ot Mr. Desmond s antecedents. "Look:" she exclaimed, glad to find something to change the conversation, "did I not tell you there had been a man in that room. Behold, without a doubt, the late occupier of Mr. Des mond's study! Good gracious, he is tak ing off his hat and coming straight to us.'" A gentleman was in fact walking slow ly up -the slope among the beech trees toward thorn. He was young and de cidedly good looking;, he had pleasant grey eyes and an agreeable smile, and his manner, when he took off bis hat and addressed them, was perfectly self possessed and devoid of awkwardness. "I must really apologize that you should have been driven out iuto the woods for your luncheon, ladies. I can not think what Mrs. Succurden was about not to ask you to remain in the bouse." "Oh, we are quite comfortable here, thanks," answered Gertrude smilingly; her whole face brightened at once. She did not know who was addressing her, but she saw that he was well-looking and a geutlelnan. He had sufficient as surance to address himself to her with out knowing her and his very audacity pleased her. "We must introduce our selves. I am Mrs. Talbot, a grass widow, If you choose to call me so. This is my son and heir, this my angel of a poodle, and this is my friend, Miss tirautley." Felicia bowed coldly, she looked grace ful and summer-like in her white dress and wide shady hat, leaning against the smooth, mossy beech trunk. The stran ger looked at her curiously, but she dropped her eyes upon her plate and would take no notice of him. Lie did not venture to speak to her. "We are nothing but common vulgar tourists," continued Gertrude Uughing ly, "come over from Smackton in an open fly for an outing, but I am a great friend of Mr. Desmond's, and now sit down here and share our lunch if you will, but please introduce yourself first; tell us who you are and where you live." "My name is Edgar IEaikes, at your service, i, too, am a great friend of Mr. Desmond's, and I live here," answered the strancer lauEhinelv. But hn did nut accept Mrs. Talbot's Invitation to sit cown and partake of her lunch; he stood leaning upon bis stick and looking down upon her, but glancing sometimes covert ly at the young lady, who was eating her luncheon in cold silence. "Do VOU live here Bt Kennino-fnn Hall if" inquired Mrs. Talbot, with some surprise. "Yes. certaiulv." "Oh, then it was his paper upon the noor, she exclaimed, turning to Felicia, "and his pen that was wet!" "And his smell of moke," interpolated Miss Grantley quietly. It was the 'first thing she had said. "Ah, you are observant, Mrs. Talbot!" replied Mr. Kaikes. "I certainly did beat a most hasty retreat out of the study when I heard the approach of ladies' skirts." "Has. Mr. Desmond lent you the house?" "Exactly, he has given me the use of It for a time," he answered with a slight flush. He might have told her that he was paid a hundred and fifty pounds a year for doing so, but he was not mind ed to make such confidences to her. "What on earth do you do here?" said Mrs. Talbot. "Are you all alone; what do you do with yourself?" "I shoot a little, and I fish a little," said the young man. He might have added that he got himself generally into mischief, but this he also .wisely re frained from saying. "It must be very dull; you had better come over and see us at Smackton, we are at the hotel." And then she got up to go. The open fly appeared on the scene on the road below them. Roland's nurse packed up the luncheon basket, and Mr. Itauces walked down with the two ladies to the road, and assisted them most politely Into their vehicle, lifting in the child and the poodle, and shutting the rickety door of the fly with as fine n air as If it bad been a spring ba rouche. Then be stood aside and took 8 off his hat to them, with th mn.f de lightful flourish and a bow which a duke mignt nave envied. "What a truly charming young man!" exclaimed Mrs. Talbot rapturously. "I really have no patience with you. Gertrude. What do we know about tnis man? I cannot understand your rushing at a stranger like that, asking mm to come and see us, too." "My dear, when vou sre m v mva vnn will understand the advisnhllltv of ler. ing no stone of life unturned upon your roaa. we are very dull at Smackton and a 'man's a man for a' that' If he comes he will amuse us; if he stays away it will do us no harm." Mr. Raikes did come once, and once only. He called upon the two ladies at the hotel the following Sunday. Dur ing the visit he flirted outrageously with Mrs. Talbot and elaneed BskAnpA st Fp- licia's somewhat cross face as she sat by reading the paper, wishing that she would not look so coldly and indifferently at him; but she would not speak to him, so he was fain to address himself entire ly to her friend. After that Sunday they saw him no more, ior mt. Talbot unexpectedly, came back from Scotland sooner than he In tended, end the little party at Smackton was in consequence broken up; the two menus said good-by to the Yorkshire watering place, Felicia paid the last bill, aim mcy packed up the;r boxes and mi grated southward together. CHAPTER XITT It was September when lviffpn waa married in Frierly village church. It is xr i . . -nay wnen .Mr. and Mrs. Brian Des mond take up their abode in the newly decorated town house in Lowndes square. All these months the happy pair have spent abroad. Kittpn h loamui on,i seen more than she had ever dreamed of in her whole life before. She has been taken to Paris and Vienna, and to Rome. She has been dressed by Parisian dress makers and presented at foreign courts; sne nas Decome seir-possessed and con versa tional; she has learned to talk glib Ir about the old ninqtom onii tn ,it,.iui. stand the difference between modern and antique bric-a-brac; she is quite a con noisseur in old laces, and already pos sesses a valuable collection of her own, nf Venetian and Genoese point and she nas gained that undehnable something that charm of manner, flint- oraxn r,f inn. guage, that trick of good society in which she was possibly Bomewhat lacking in the old childish days when she sat up aloft in the cherry tree and studied Pope's "Essay on Man" with the all devout worship of her earnest joung soul. But all this time has she been happy? nas Brian indeed taught her that love and joy are one, and that happiness can be caught and embraced and tightly held cantive hetwppn th lii,in o,. . "O ' "O " 1 ui answering anectionr At first she believed thnt If wna an To be with him rtnilr fn ahw I,;. , .w . j uia J 1 1 IT, to sun herself rorever in his smile and in the elahcen of hin ctm woa ni,m..ian for her for a time. As her love grew nnd increased in denth and lntmi.;i. did the blindness of her self-devotion render her at first unconscious of all save the delight of her own adoration. But as the davs and wppba n.nnf k she besan vaetiplv tn fool a fnint . :n .) disappointment. Kometimea tha t ner love seemed even in her own eyes to meet with but an inadequate response. Once or twice It happened that she pour ed out her thoughts and her fancies, and that he hardly understood her. At times he was abstracted nnd tliniirliffni n,i if she rallied him upon his gravity he would rouse Himself with an effort, smile upon her, stroke her hair, kiss her .pout ing lips and tell her lightly that he was thinking of "business." Then, one day, there came an awaken ing. It was a wet afternoon. They were at Dresden, and were slowly wandering homeward to England. They had ex hausted the picture galleries and the "green vaults," had listened to the organ in the church till they were tired of it and wandered about the narrow streets and hung over the bridge across the Elbe until they knew fhem all by heart, It was their last afternoon, and it was raining heavily. Brian got sick of the dreary grandeur of the hotel sitting room, and clothing himself in a long waterproof coat, went off by himself for a walk. Presently, from sheer Id I pnpaa bIia Via. gan touching the trifles upon her hus- oann s taoie nis sliver cigarette case, his writing case, thn littln .,.lif Bilver topped bottles and ivory toilet im plements, one nngered them with loving tenderness, as thinira n-Mnh fr.. tki. owner's sake, were dear to her. His dressing bag stood wide open upon a chnir. and Innt Inaidp If- wo - , . ... " i i j a small square morocco case. Kitten felt a vacuo i . . i. . i i . wouueruieui lout sne naa never before noticed this article. Rh tnnlr if nn . , i, u aiiu turned it about curiously. Apparently it was locked, but presently, quite acci dentallv. her fineer tonchpH nr. . , D " i i a spring, and the case flew open suddenly, it was nneo witn iaoed satin. Kitten's hpnrt heirnn to henfc with a aftnn. "..HUBS U 11 U sickening sensation, for what was tne meaning of these things which lay Inside? a crumpled white glove, a bunch of dead violets, a tiny lace bordered cam- brio handkerchief with the faint odor of nurfnmn still linirprlncr ahnnf if an .1 locket, which, with a wild amazement, she found to contain a soft, thick curl of dark brown hair, and then, beneath everything else, a folded letter, yellow and faded, with written words that wert J pals with Urns snd blotted with tears, creased snd crumpled out of all original shape and smoothness. Half mad with a something terrible which seemed to stifle and choke ber, Brian's wife read the opening words in the dim, faded ink j that bad been dry for years. "My darl ing, is what she saw then no more, for there came a heavy footstep behind ber, a rough hand that snatched the pa per from hers, and a hoarse, angry voice that spoke ber name. "How dare you!" said Brian, in a voice of suppressed fury. He pushed her back, snatched the case and Its contents away, bundled them all back and sanp ped the spring of the box, and thrust it back into the dressing bag. Then he turned around to his wife again. Never had Kitten seen that look of black rage before upon the face she loved so well. She cowered and shrank before him, with,, white, (drawn features and horror stickeifeyes that widened into terror as they met him. But she was brave, too, and she knew that as his wife ' she had a right to know. "I am sorry," she said, "sorry to have annoyed you. It was by accident that I opened it But since I have done so since I have seen those things, you must explain to me the meaning of what I have seen. To whom did they belong? Who is this other woman, whose hair, whose glove and handkerchief, whose let ter you keep so religiously? Who is she?" But he gave ber no answer; he had turned away from her and was locking up his bag. She watched him in silence, and with an agony which increased at every moment When he had put away the dressing bag he went out of the room, through her bedroom and Into the sitting room beyond. He leaned against the window, tnklngf nn a newspaper and making believe to read it. Kitten had followed him. She stood at a little dis tance from him, white as death, with her great sad eyes fixed upon him. His face was very dark and bitter. She could not see the expression of hiB down cast eyes, but she saw that the hands that held the paper shook slightly, and that he bit his lip under his dark mus tache, as though struggling with some strong and painful emotion within him self. Then the wife went and laid her soft, fair head upon her husband's arm, rub bing her cheek gently against his coat sleeve, and clinging to him coaxingly with those small, frail hands he had so often kissed. "Brian," she said softly, "I know I am only a child to you, and I have seen enough of the world lately to understand that I cannot be the first whom you have loved. But am I not your wife, and why should there be any secret between us? Tell me who this woman was, and if you loved her once, and I will speak of it no more. "It will be better that you should speak of it no more," he answered hoarsely. "But that is no answer to my ques tions" she said, looking up wistfully into his face. "There can be no answer to it," he answered shortly, and then added, with a little gesture of affection, resting bis hand against her head; "I will forgive you for your indiscretion, Kitten, but do not speak of this affair again." "Not after this once, Brian, but I am your wife. I have a right to know your past The happiness of our whole lives depends upon this. Answer me but this one question." "My dear little girl, men do not like to be cross-questioned.", "Does that mean that you refuse to tell me who those things belonged to?" "Exactly, if you like to word it so. I refuse to tell you." He flung down his paper upon the table, and looked at her angrily, almost defiantly. "And now," he said lightly, "the rain is over. Put on your things and let us go out." After that, Kitten knew that she did not possess her husband's heart. All the sweet illusions, all the dear dreams of love and happiness, withered up and dwindled away into emptiness nnd deso lation. She understood, with that shrewdness which had always been a part of her nature, that had Brian ceas ed to love this other woman, of whom he treasured up those faded mementoes so tenderly and religiously, he would have spoken of her freely and openly, and would have told her something. even If not all the story of his past. But nis blind anger, his overpowering emo tion, and his obstinate refusal to answer her questionings taught her too surely that her husband's love for this other woman was not a dead thing of the post, but a living, breathing reality. (To be continued.) Drawlna Him On. Miss Willing What would you do if I attempted to run away and leave you here In the parlor alone Mr. Slowboy Why, I er would try to catch and hold you. Miss Willing Well, get ready then: I'm going to attempt It One of the Karmarka, "Those people who moved Into tha adjoining house yesterdny must be aw fully rich," said Mrs. Urbnn. 'Why do you think so, my dear?" queried her husband. "Because." she replied, "thev td- ' . ' J W IT U a lawn mower." What Dy'e Think o' That. Belle I don't think those , flyers from New York will ever be popular with engaged couples. Mabel Why not? Belle They fly through tunnels too quick. Brilliant Percy. Pred Andwhat is Percy Sapp do ing now? Jack Sprinkling gas on the love letter to glys the girl an Impression that be owns an automobile. 0 - '-" The average tyro seems to get the ldeu that there cannot be too much light In a picture, but a real picture without Bhadow Is Just as Impossible ns a painting done wholly In white paint on white canvas. Shadows very often form the chief interest In a picture, and many a salon print could make no claim for attention but for the beautiful Interplay of masses of light and shade which it portrays. Following along the lines of this popular fallacy, Just mentioned above, many beginners curefully plan to make their views with the sun directly behind them, nnd it could not be In a worse place. This matter of direction of the light should be given careful atten tion, and It may be said In general thnt the most pleasing landscapes are made with the sun at the right or left. This fact niny be rande evident to the worker If the landscape to be photographed includes a tree in the fore ground, by taking a point of view with the sun full on the tree. There Is little beauty In it tinder such circumstances, but, taking a position at right angles to the first point of view, so thnt the sun Is directly at the right or left, will change the whole nspeet of things. One elile of the tree Is benutl fully lighted while the other Is In shadow, und every little branch Is outlined with a chnnn of dlBtlnctness and of light nnd simile. A slight change In one direction or the other will increase or decrease the light or shadow as Is thought best for the truest rendering of the scene. This illustration Is es pecially applicable to trees bare of leaves In autumn. We have snld thnt the point of view should be chosen with reference to the direction of the light, but there are cases when the proper grouping of objects demands one point of aiid that only. Under such clr''umtnncna the view should bo studied to find out at whnt time of the day it will be best lighted, nnd nearly always a satisfactory lighting niny -be secured If the exposure is made at the right hour. Phil. M. Riley, In Photo Era. IT might not have happened If Chelmsford hadn't noticed her vain ly trying to overcome the obstinacy of the enr window. And It might not have happened then, had she not shot that appealing glance In Chelmsford's direction. To that glance from those eyes, Chelmsford hitherto Invincible capitulated. ' He dropped his grip and tackled the window. Under the spell of those eyes and that smile he was conscious of a Samson-like strength; if necessary ho could have torn the window from its casing. After he had conquered the window there was nothing to do but resume the grip, acknowldege the thanks, and continue his search for a vacant seat. It was really too bad that the other half of her senj was oc cupied by her mother. When he had at last settled down, he tried to turn his thoughts to the breeze-kissed lakes, denizened by vo racious and Inquisitive buss, which he hiid reluctantly left behind; to the city of turmoil and smoke to which he was reluctantly returning; but they deter minedly refused to turn from those eyes. At each stop of the crowded excur sion train he watched to see If she left the coach. When she and her mother arose, as the train pulled Into his own station, he hurried forward, elated, only to behold a handsome young fel low meet them and bear them triumph antly away, paying especial attention to her. Thirty minutes later Chelmsford slammed a grip upon his dressing ta ble and scowled fiercely at his reflec tion In the mirror. "Just my luck," he growled. "Missed the one opportunity of my life." He slipped the catches of the grip and Jerked It open savagely. Strange and surprising articles flew forth, arti cles quite foreign to the apartments of a bachelor. Marvelous and dulnly gar ments, decorated with delicate lace and bows of ribbons, rose up from the yawning receptacle to confound him. A bunch of tiny hairpins tinkled on the table. A downy powder-puff rolled forth, Its faint Incense rising to aston ished nostrils. "Shade of St. Anthony, protect me!" Chelmsford gasped. "It's her grip!" 4. little package of letters nestled at SHE UEltSRLP A.NHWEltlil) HIS 11110. matmr fr..otoqrapht the bottom, the uppermost envelope bearing an Inscription: "MISS GRACE OLCOTT, "2714 N'. Walnut St., "City." Only five blocks away! One never knows how near be may be to Para dise. ' Gingerly, reverently, be tucked the escaped articles Into the grip, snapped it shut and rushed out. At a nent Utile cottage In a shady street she herself answered his ring. She uttered a little cry of mingled Joy and dismay, and held out her hands for the grip. "Did you open It?" she stammered. "Naturally. They are precisely alike and '"Horrible!" she Interrupted, and fled with her grip. Soon her mother appeared, handed Chelmsford his property, with a few cool words of thanks, and laid her hand on the knob of the door. Evi dently she considered the affair as a closed incident. So Chelmsford lifted his hat politely and returned to his rooms humbly. An oblong of pasteboard on the floor caught his eye. He snatched It up, turned It over, saw a face, and kissed it. Then, seeking solace, he searched his grip for something which should have been there, but which wasn't Meditating for a moment, he smiled hopefully. Next day arrived a little missive. "Pardon me If I say that a gentle man would not have kept my photo graph. Kindly return It at once by iH. (Miss) Grace Olcott." Promptly Chelmsford retaliated: i "Pardon me for wondering what use n lady ca have for my pipe. I shall call for It In person. Respectfully. "John Chelmsford." As he approached the cottage next morning she emerged, hatted and glov ed, bearing a stenographer's note book. She blazed at him for a moment with those eyes, then melted and laughed' merrily. "What a muddle! That pipe must have fallen out when we opened your grip. We thought Brother Will had left It when he brought us from the station. I'll run In and get It." The pipe restored, Chelmsford ob served brazenly: "Come on. We'll miss our car. You're going down town, aren't you?" She was, of course, and to Chelms ford, and yes, to her that car seem ed to travel exasperatlngly fast as they chatted together. As he handed her from the car she said, suddenly: "My photograph. You must return that you know." "Is It really necessary that I return it?" "Why, certainly." ' "By mall?" he asked, smiling. She looked down and shifted the note book nervously. "I think I shall bring It this even ing." , She looked up at hi in quickly, then down again. "Quick I The car's going, May I?" She glanced up archly, smiling be wltchlngly: "If you think that safer than the moll," sho called back ns she turned away. Valley Weekly. . When a well-to-do family moves Into a town, and the members become ac tive workers In a church, that church feels that it has found money rolling up bill.