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.