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A LJEAD JAST
By MRS. LOVCTT
OTAPTER XXIII.
lie stood up, facing her, with his back
to the fire. Now that she could gee him
well, with the ligut of the lamp shining
full upon him, she could see that he was
very much altered. He was thin, and
worn, and aged; his broad, manly figure
had shrunk; his shoulders stooped; the
eyes that used to be brave and buoyant,
now looked weary and lifeless. She was
hocked to see him so changed. He
laughed shortly and bitterly as he look
ed at her.
"I hare come half across Europe to
ee you, traveling night and day through
all this frost and snow. I have taken no
rest, and scarcely any food for four
days, and all you can find to say to me
at the end of it is to revile me for not
keeping out of your way."
"What have you come for?" she re
peated more gently.
"What have I come for? To see you,
Rosamund to still the raging hunger at
my heart. Because, when 1 found out
where you were, I could not rest until
I saw you again."
"How did you hear where I was?"
she said wonderingly.
"There was a man, a poor fellow from
this part of the country he was con
sumptive T think who met us. I heard
It from him at Montone."
Mary's brother! She understood It
then. There was a sort of fatality about
It. She sat down wearily.
"What have you been doing with your
self, Brian? You look fearfully ill."
"I have been ill for months. We
started, my cousin, Edgar Raikes, and I,
to go to China, Australia, heaven knows
where. We began by a fortnight in the
Austrian Tyrol, and there I got laid up
with a sort of fever. I have been there
over since till a month ago, when I man
aged to get down to the Riviera. I am
getting right now, only a bit weak and
pulled dowu."
"And a journey like this across Eu
rope, In such weather and in your pres
ent state! What madness, Brian! It is
enough to kill you!"
She looked at him with a kindly pity
lng concern. What surprised herself
more than she could account for was
the utter calmness and indifference with
which she saw him. Save in the first
moment of surprise, her pulses had beat
no faster for his presence. His voice
liad no power to thrill her.
'"When trust is gone," site told herself
as she looked at him, "tbeu the founda
tions of the building are undermined,
and with time and absence the idol It
self soon crumbles into powder." Aloud
she said to him, with a kindly reproach
In Uer-voice: "What folly could Induce
you to undertake such a journey for
nothing, Brian?
"Do you call it nothing, then, that I
am here, that I can see you once more.
hear your voice, touch your hands"
He knelt down before her on the
hearthrug, and took her hand his own
trembled and shook, hers was as cold
as ice and- as perfectly unresponsive.
"Rosamond, tell me once again let me
hear from your lips that you love me
still. Then I will go. I ask for nothing
more. That will be enough for me. Tell
me that, once, and I will leave you.
"I cannot tell you that I love you,
Brian," she said coldly, wondering, as
she spoke, at the fearful evidence of
selfishness of which such words, from
this man to her whose life he had spoil
ed, gave evidence.
"You cannot say so! Do you mean
that yon do not love me, Rosamond? It
is impossible! You cannot have ceased
to care for me."
She withdrew her hands from his, and
reached them up behind her bead with a
weary action. Her eyes wandered away
from his pleading, earnest face that was
haggard with passion and misery. For a
moment or two she was silent, then very
slowly she said:
"The one thing tinder the sun which
Is absolutely impossible, Brian, is to re
kindle the ashes of a dead fire."
He rose from his kneeling attitude at
her feet, and stood with his back to the
mantelpiece. Then he drew a long, shiv
ering breath.
"Ah! It is dead, then," he said, almost
lH a whisper.
"Yes," she answered, still not looking
at him. "It is dead. Thank God! thank
God!"
There was silence between them for
the space of four or five minutes abso
lute silence, during which the clock tick
ed steadily and the fire logs sparkled
and crackled, and Brian Desmond faced
the bitterest and cruelest moment of his
whole life.
It was Rosamond who spoke first.
"You have left your wife, Brian, at
Mentone?"
He started.
"My wife! Good heavens! Surely you
know you must have heard!"
She looked at him with interest.
"What is it? I have heard nothing."
"Is it possible that you do not know
that my wife left me before I went
. abroad V
"Your wife left you!" she repeated in
a voice of dismay. "Do you mean that
you are not living with her that you
are separated from her?"
"She, at all events, has separated her
self from me," he said bitterly. "It
seems that no woman can stick to me
now. Very likely I deserve It"
"But, Brian," she cried engerly, "I
don't understand! Do you mean that
he left her home and went away? What
made her leave yon?"
"Uer own Idiotic jealousy," he replied
CAMERON
irritably. "Some one, I believe, saw us
together that one evening do you re
member it, Rosamond?"
Could she ever forget It? Although
the anguish of it was past, the bare
recollection of that day in London was
sufficient to make her shudder.
"Yes, yes, go on," she said, hastily.
"I don't know who it was. Either an
interfering young fool, called Sir Roy
Grantley, who imagined himself to be in
love with her, or else a mischief-making
woman called Talbot, I never can make
out which; but one of them must have
seen us together and told her. She wrote
me a sensational letter and left my
house."
"But, Brian, surely, surely, that alone
could not have led Ber to such a strong
measure." -
"Oh, she was always jealous about
you! She found out she knew, 1 believe
that it wus you, and not her, whom I
loved.
"And it is I I who have worked
her all this woe and agony!" she moaned.
"Oh. wharcan I do? What can I do?"
'Do not distress yourself, Rosamond.
Kitten was not like you; she is a mere
child, a creature with no depth or power
of feeling; she has the inconsequence of
immaturity, not the heart of a woman.
I do not think she has the power to feel
much; she is but n baby."
"Ah, do not tnink it!" cried Rosamond
eagerly. "Do not flutter yourself with
such a delusion, Brian. Would a child
and baby a mere shallow, heartless
creature as you call her have left her
home, her comforts you if she had
not suffered acutely?"
"Ah, you do not know her, her little
baby ways, her keen pleasure in trifles,
her rapid changes of manner and of
feeling."
"What has that to do with it?" cried
Rosamond, with an impatient wave of
her hand. "Xo, I do not know her, but
I think I know her better than you do;
that must be a nature that can love in
tensely, and to whom love is either life
or death. She might have been childish,
but you have mistaken inexperience for
ignorance, and the trustfulness of youth
for an evidence of heartlessness Brian,
find your wife and take her back to your
heart and to your love. To her you are
all the world to me, thank God, you
are nothing!"
"Is it, indeed, as you said last night,
dead ashes?" he asked, looking wist
fully iulo her dark eyes and grasping
her hand tightly.
"Absolutely and entirely," she snswer
ed with that brisk coldness of voice,
that cheerful iriness of expression, which
is a more effectual extinguisher of love's
hope than a passion of repronches or a
whole volume of angry denial.
CHATTER XXIV.
"Where is that girlAnn?"
"She is out in the park, ma'am."
"She is always out in the park. It
isn't fit for her to he out at all in such
weather, with that cough of hers that
never gets any better. Instead of being
a comfort to me. she is nothing but n
burden and a responsibility. I am sure
I don't know what to do about her and
there's nobody that I can write to fyr
orders nowadays, with the master and
mistress gone abroad, and even Mr.
Raikes as has took himself off the Lord
knows where! I think in my old age,
that it is hard to be saddled with a use
less child like that."
The speaker was Mrs. Succurden; she
stood at the hall door shading her eyes
from the bright winter sunshine, and
looking out over the snow-covered slopes
that reached away, one below the other,
till they sank into the dazzling whiteness
of the plains below. She had not look
ed long before she espied between the
black trunks of the beech groves some
quarter of a mile away a small, dark
robed figure that wandered slowly and
aimlessly over the crisp, snow-covered
grass.
"There she js," muttered the house
keeper, with a pucker of annoyance on
her rorohead. "Poor feckless, half-witted
creature, sauntering along as If it was
midsummer; with no more notion of tak
ing care of herself than if she was a
baby. Tom," she called out to one of
the gardeners, who was sweeping the
snow in n desultory manner away from
the front door, "go and tell Catherine
that I want her." .
She came obedient to the summons.
A small, wisp-like figure of a girl in her
dark dress, with a face that seemed
scarcely human in its absolute transpar
ent pallor.
"You wanted me, Mrs. Succurden?"
"Yes. I wnnt you to come In; it is
not fit for you to be wnndering about
in the snow like that. Have you washed
the best dinner service, ns I told you?"
"Yes. I hnve doue all the work you
set me to do."
"Come In then, and go and dust the
glass in the octagon room."
Kitten did what she was told. She
went into the octagon room. It was the
room where Edgar Raikes used to sit
the room which Brian had once used as
his own, and where the photograph of
Miss Gray stood in its frame with the
closed brass doors, upon the mantelshelf.
It was a place that had a strange fasci
nation for Kitten. She would stand
whole mluutes at a time motionless at
the window that looked out over the
now barren trees towards the grey
church tower in the hollow.
Kitten never went into the octagon
room without dreaming by the window
for a while, nor without a glance inside
the closed door at Rosamond Gray's
picture. This self-torture, which kept
her love and her pain alive, became a
sort of religious duty to her.
"Was I not right to leave him?" she
would say to herself, almost with tri
umph, "since he loved her so much, and
could never, by any effort, have set me
in her place? Are not all the mistakes
of this world made by the women who
struggle for a man's love which there is
no hope of their getting? Better to let
It go."
There was a glass-doored cabinet in
the corner of the octagon room. It
was filled up to the topmost shelf with
specimens of old cut glass. It was part
of Kitten's duty to dust the glass and
the shelves, and to replace these valua
ble objects in order in their places. Kit
ten, mounted upon a low pair of steps,
was carefully dusting an old goblet of
greenish-hued crystal, which she knew
better than Mrs. Succurden could tell
her, was of untold value, being absolute
ly unique and uureplaceahle; she was
still dreaming about Brian's youth, about
the beautiful girl whom he had loved
lcng ago. 4
one couiu near -Mrs. Miceunleu s voice
talking volubly, and with a certain agi
tation and animation which was unusual
to her, and as the voices drew nearer,
she was able to distinguish the house
keeper s words.
"This way, miss dear me, I beg your
pardon ma'um I should have said! You
haveu't forgotten the way I'll be hound
dearie me, to think of seeing you here
again after all these years! It do seem
strange indeed! And to think of your
living so near, too only at Dnnsterton,
and your never haviur come over to see
the old place before!"
eu, i nave ueen a long time, cer
tainly, in coming to see you, Mrs. Suc
curden," replied a dear, crisp voice, with
a pleasant ring in it, pre-eminently the
voice of a lady, as Kitten wus Instantly
aware, and how great is the charm of a
refined and well-bred voice. "I owe it
to my shame, hrlt to-day. I had a fancy
to bring my friend, Col. Trefusis, to
look at the vicarage gables and at the
dear old church, and as we were so near,
why. I could not resist the temptation
of coming on across the park."
"Along the old path, miss ma'am, I
mean! Ah, bow many a lime I've seen
you enme springing up the slope with
your light steps!
They were well within the room by
now. The tall lady in her long fur cloak,
and the slight figured gentleman a little
behind her, looking about liim with
keen, kindly blue eyes, and behind them
holh. Mrs. Succurden, in her white cap
ami black silk gown, with her basket
of keys in her hands. Kitten, from her
vantage ground at the tup of the steps,
could see the group who invaded her
solitude, while they were unaware of her
presence.
"You have a great deal of glass here."
said the gentleman to Mrs. Succurden.
"Ah, you would like to go over the
houses, no doubt, Sir," replied the house
keeper. "I will gee If I cuu find the
head gardener; he is generally about ut
111 is hour."
She led the way out of the room: the
gentleman went with her. The lady in
the long fur cloak made no effort to fol
low them. She was left alone, standing
by the window where Kitten had so
often stood with her back to the room,
and her eyes rivetted upon the grey
church tower.
Rosamond moved from the window at
length; then she did exactly what Kit
ten herself had done hundreds of times.
She went straight in the mantelpiece,
and opened the brass doors of the paint
ed miniature. She took it down from
its place and gazed long anil earnestly
at the lovely face, bright with youth
mid happiness, that smiled buck at her.
She turned away from the fireplace,
leaving the doors of the picture wide
open. Then Kitten saw her face, and
behind it that other face, that was the
same, only not the same. The beautiful
features were unaltered, the eyes were
as lovely, the proud pose of the head
was iiumistakuhle, only that in the living
woman the curves of the laughing mouth
of the pictured one were drooped and
saddened, and the hand of sorrow and
suffering had swept like a storm cloud
over the once bright and fearless brow.
But all that Kitten realized at that mo
ment was one thing alone. This was
Rosamond Earle, whom Brian Desmond
loved!
The room swain round ber, her wide
open eyes grew dark and dazed with un
speakable pain and anguish, then cume a
crash, and the sharp ring of broken glass
as the mediaeval goblet fell, shattered
into a thousand alums upon the parquet
flooring, then a dull, heavy thud, and a
little dark-robed form slipped suddenly
down from the top of the steps into a
huddled mass upon the ground.
(To be continued.)
Getting His Money's Worth.
"Why doesn't Tightwad buy bis
stamps at the postottice instead of go
ing to that news stand every night?"
"The news dealer handles the base
ball extra."
" "I see. Tightwad buys one every
night, eh?" -
"Oh, no! You see, the pnpers lay
on the, showcase and while the clerk
Is getting the stamps Tightwad reuds
the score." Detroit Tribune.
Comparing Records.
"No, indeed," she said. "I can never
be your wife. Why, I had half a doz
en offers before yours."
"Huh!" rejoined tho young man in
the case. "That's nothing. I proposed
to at least a dozen girls before I met
you."
In Hard Luck,,
The Judge Have you anything to
offer the court before sentence is
passed on you? '
The Prisoner No, your honor; I had
$13, but my lawyer uppoprlated It.
i
r.ll
Practical Poultry Houaea.
A practical poultry bouse inay be
built of four upright piuno boxes.
The bucks and ends which come to
gether are removed, together with two
of the tops. The two remaining tops
are inclosed nt the middle eud of the
bouse and nt the front, and a smn.ll
door made In the gable end of one,
which portion of the house is used for
the storage of grain. A sloping roof
Is built over the entire structure, nmt
the building covered with waterproof
paper, thus cutting out any possibility
of trouble in the way of leakage or
drafts which might result from the
joining. Two windows are made In
the lower front of the house fuel tig
the south, and directly under each
window a dusting box is made,' which
will afford the fowls much pleasure,
as thoy enjoy the sunshine. Roosts
are placed at. one end and lu the mid
dle, and nest' boxes on the side oppo
site the windows.
ArrnnicInK the Window Ciarilen.
How often do we notice a shelf
filled with small plants In the window
garden, many varieties grouped pro
miscuously until the characteristics of
each are entirely destroyed. Arrange
each class of plants in a separate
clump, and you will be surprised to
note the difference In their appear
ance. Take such plants as primroses,
cyclamen, violets and ferns and ar
range them alternately on the plant
shelf. Now group all the ferns In the
center of the shelf, tho tall sword fern
In the middle, with the broad-leaved
sorts next, unci the beautiful maiden
hair fern and other dainty varieties
drooping from the edge of the shelf.
On one end of the shelf, nt a little
distance from the ferns, group the dif
ferent varieties of primroses In Riieh
manner that contrasts In foliage and
blossoms will be readily noted. On
the other hand, nrrange the cyclamen
blossoms, nodding daintily above the
dark foliage, and the great difference
between the careless and artistic ar
rangements will be at once .apparent.
(.noil Fence Gate.
Where the farm is divided Into a
number of fields It Is often somewhat
of a laborious task to pass from one
field to another, and especially when
animals are to be driven from one sec
tion to another of the farm. A gate
such ns here described Is easily placed
in a section of any division fence,
whether of wire, raljs or boards. Ar-
nge the point of opening so as to
have firm corner posts, then make ji
gate four feet wide; n light post Is set
before the ends of the boards are cut
If the gate Is erected as a part of a
board fence. Two strong strips are
nailed on the gate portion and three
strong strait binges are fastened on
the boards where cut next to the post.
Strong hooks and screw-eye serve as
fastenings at the other end of the gate.
It costs but little to arrange several
of the handy gates about the farm,
and they will be found useful. The Il
lustration shows the Idea clearly. In
dianapolis News.
IndlflreMtton In C'own.
There are several things to look for
In a case of chronic Indigestion In a
cow. Possibly tuberculosis Is present,
and if It Is suspected the cow should
be removed from among the other ani
mals and be closely examined by nn
expert veterinarian. Then there may
be some organic disease of the stom
ach or there may be some foreign sub
stance In the second stomach. When
a cow suffers from chronic Indigestion
It Is wise to .call a veterinarian In or
der to ascertain how serious the
trouble Is.
I iiiu n
CCLU)
I'lA.NO IIOX POULTRY HOtBh.
KKNCK U..1...
ra
Protecting; the IMnnnre.
The annual question concerning the
disposition of the stable-made manure
comes up as the pile begins to assume
formidable proportions, i By far the
best way of taking care of it is to
spread it on the fields where it will
l.o down into the soil and be In readi
ngs for the crop -which Is to be sown
lu the spring. If it Is to be stored, the
ideal place is the pit with cement bot
tom, which will hold the liquid excre
ment If this cannot be done, then
store it under a shed, placing it in
layers and let the hogs root it over.
If even this is not feasible, then put it
in piles not very high and cover with
any old, rough boards almost any
thing that will keep out the rain,
which causes the liquid (tortious to
leach away.
An excellent plan Is to choose a
place where the soli is of a clay na
ture, and dig a trench all around the
space where the pile is to be, and lu
this way save some of the liquid, .
which may be scooped up 'and poured
back on the pile. Use the pile ns a
receiver for the slop from the house,
and sr"e that it is forked over several
times during the winter. The main
thing, however, Is to see that it is pro
tected from the elements as much as
possible.
Itednclnic Farm KxpenNen.
The farmer who begins the new
year with the intention of reducing ex
penses will find mnny opportunities
for so doing, and will also be sur
prised at the end of the year at the
many avenues for allowing the loss,
une cause of loss is the neglect of the.
farm wagons and Implements:. An ac
count kept of the cost of repairs will
show that quite n large sum goes lu
that direction, much of which could be
saved. The use of more oil on tools,
and keeping them sharp and In the
best condition for use, will save labor.
which Is an Item thnt must be paid
for. Too many unprulltnble animals,
however, cnuse more loss than any
thing else, and the fanner should be
gin the new year with sutllclent cour
age to thin out the flocks and herds
so as to retain only the best and most
profitable.
nntro!n the Home.
A Seattle inventor 'has devised a
driving bit which places the horse un
der the complete control of the driver,
nnd, if universally
used, there would
be no more run
away horses. This
driving bit con
tains the ordinary
jointed mouth
piece, with rein
rings attached, tho
rings and mouth
piece being pivot
ed together to a
dkivino hit. curved snaflle bar.
The snaflle bars meet at the center
under the lower jaw of the horse and
are hinged by a rivet, the overlapping
ends of the Bundle bars being recessed
to form a smooth Joint. An overdraw
check guard, consisting of a curved
chin bnr connects to the sua tile bars.
An overdraw check bit passes through
slots In the upper end of the check
guard. The inventor claims that the
overdraw check, when connected to
cither a mm (lie bit or to a stiff mouth
piece bit, is humane lu its action, docs
not force the Jaws of the horse open
to an extent to Interfere with the prop
er breathing, will not pinch the sides)
of the mouth of the horse, and will
not chnfe and Irritate the animal.
Purklnir I'ork.
Clean the barrel thoroughly until nil
bad odors are removed. Then cover
the bottom with three Inches of salt
and pnek In a layer, of Hrk, closely fill
ing the space and covering the whole
layer with salt three inches deep.
Pound It down solid with an ax and
start another layer, keeping on lu the
same way until the pork Is all packed.
Cover the whole with one-half bushel
of salt unci let It stand a few days,
after which clean cold water should be
added. A float with a flat stone on top
will keep the meat from rising above
the surface. This plan requires more
salt than commonly used but Is very
sure for keeping meat.
VHllejr Front.
Three causes operate to produce val
ley frosts, which are: I'Mrst, the air,
made cold on clear nights, becomes
heavier, rolls down the hillsides and
settles nt the bottom. Second, the
winds do not reach the valleys, which
allows unobstructed radiation of heat.'
Third, the richer soil of the valleys
Induces a Inter and more succulent
growth, thereby promoting more rapid
evaporation.
Mnnuiriuir Ntock.
The real benefit derived from keep
ing stock may always be traced to
the management. Good blood Is es
sential, but no animal can thrive that
Is compelled to depend ttpou Itself.
Pure bred stock demands the best
care, but the same may ulso be said
of common stock. The food Is the
Importnnt factor in , the production of
meat or milk, but some animals can,
make better use of food than others.
The farmer's attention, however, la
necessary for all kinds of live stock.
If the animals are to give a profit.
it