THE CHARITY GfilSL By EFFIE A. ROWLANDS CHAPTER XXIV. The Glemiurwooil carriage was stand ltif; whore Jack had ordered it to remain vlien lie arrived. Jack had thrown him self back in his comer aud had folded liia arms across his breast ; Audrey sat bolt upright, her two cold little hands clinched tight together, her teeth set so that the sobs that rose to her throat chould not escape her lips. Who shall attempt to describe the :ate of those two hearts, both wounded the very quick, both heavy with that deep sorrow that comes when one has Wen deceived where one loves best? "Why did they take me to him? Why wns I married to him? I would sooner have died than have listened to what those women said to-night, and know that he has never, never loved me," said Audrey to herself, passionately. "And so my happiness is over," ran Jack's troubled thoughts. "Well, it has not lasted long. Fool fool that I have been, to believe that any woman could be the ungel I have pictured her to be, and that she should love him him, above all other men ! I fieb as though his very life's blood will not give me satis faction." They reached the gates of Craiglands at last ; a few minutes' drive through the well-kept avenue, and then the door. Jack pot out, and then forcing himself by an almost superhuman effort to appear nat ural before the servants, turned to as sist her. Audrey put her cold hand in his as she stepped out of the brougham. How little did either of them thiuk that they would not clasp, or even touch, hands again for many a weary day. The fragrance and warmth of her bed room seemed to choke Audrey. Hastily flinging off her domino, she passed to the window and pushed it open, and then stood by it, the sound of her own heart beating in her ears like a sledge hammer. Would Jack come? She waited several moments. If he had come to her then 6he would have done that which would have put matters straight at once, for the agony in her breast was urging her to speak out to ask him why he had deceived her, why he had married her? The hot blood rushed to her cheeks again and again, as she recalled tne remarks those two women had made, and realized how cruelly the world judged her already. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes went by, and Audrey still stood waiting for the sound of her husband's footsteps on the stairs and the passage outside. Her happiness was ended ; Jack no longer loved her indeed, had never loved her. She was his wife, that was true, and it must be her lot to bear with the diffi culties as with the joys that fell to her as his wife. ' "Still," the child thought sorrowfully to herself, "he has acted wrongly; he has been cruel to Sheila, to himself, to me. I am glad he did not come in just now, yes, glad, for it shows that he is tired of deceit and hpyocrisy, and and I cannot bear to think that the nature I thought bo honest should only prove false. What was it that those women said? "The worst day's work Jack Glendurwood did when he married me.' People should be careful how they speak out the truth." Jler lips quivered, but her face flamed -with proud color. "The worst day's -work for Jack," she repeated slowly, "and I am the one who has brought that to him. I I who would lay down my life for him. Why did I ever meet him? Why did I ever leave home? Why did not heaven let me die before all this sorrow came upon him through me? Jack! My darling! My darling!" Her hot, tearless eyes stared into the fire, as if to seek some solution of this painful problem there. In her loving gen erosity Audrey made all excuses for her husband now. She no longer blamed; he was still to her the dearest creature on earth ; and yet so great was the agony at thought of his deceit that, had he held out his arms to her and called her tenderly by name, she would have turned from him and stood aloof. CHAPTER XXV. Jean Thwait was lying in a delicious doze, half waking, half sleeping, on the morning following the Dinglewood masked ball, when a sharp tap at the door, fol lowed by Audrey's rapid entrance, arous ed her completely. "What is it, darling? Something has happened?" she cried, hurriedly. "Jean, can you pack up a few things and come with me at once?" Audrey apoke faintly, her face was deathly white, 6he Bhook in every limb ; then before Jean could answer, she went on swiftly, "My mother is very ill. She has telegraphed for me. Perhaps even now I may be too late ; she may be dead. I have ordered the carriage to be here in an hour, can you be ready?" "Yes," replied Jean, briefly. It needed no words to tell her that more was the thnn this teleeram from Ger many. Audrey had never spoken like this to her before, naa never looKea as sue looked now. Audrey made no Inquiries about Jack, although she knew she must acquaint him t.ar imirnev before she started. Jean found plenty to do in the time allotted to her, but she was wonuerruuy quick, ana 1 in hr hat and coat when she went to the door to open it in answer to a harp summons. It was Jack, also fully attired in outdoor costume, with a rail way rug over his arm. rirwwi moraine. Miss Thwait," he said hurriedly. "Please forgive me for this unceremonious Intrusion, but I wanted to speak to you before I leave." "Are T00 not going with us?" she ask ed in surprise. It was Jack's turn to show astonish input "Where are you going?" he asked husk- ilv. t. in rhree words, explained what bad happened, and then she knew some thing wu Tery wrong, inaeea, u iub ex pression on Jacks lace. ir ("nnatjtnce !" she heard him mut ter under hia breath; then he gave a uick sixh. "I hP things ma not be so bad. Miss Thwait. It is quite impos sible for me to get to Cronstadt yet." "Does Audrey know you are uot going with us?" "I have not seen her this morning," was the answer, given with much evident pain. Jean clasped her hands suddenly. Then her worst fears were realized, and some thing more had, indeed, happened ; some thing, too, very terrible, to work such a change as this. "Lord John," she said, involuntarily, "you must please forgive me, but is your business so important that you are com pelled to attend to it rather than accom pany your wife on such a journey as this?" "Miss Thwait," he said as well as he could speak, "the business I am going on touches that which is dearer to me than life my honor ! I am sure that you at least would not wish me to neglect any thing with which that is concerned." "I will answer for Audrey as for my self," Jean said, hurriedly, "if your honor is concerned, Lord John, no other reason is needed ; but is there nothing I can do?" "Give this letter to Audrey, Miss Thwait." his voice quivered as he spoke his wife's name. "It is a sacred trust, one that I would not give to every one ; but I know you are her friend, you will comprehend and sympathize with what I am going to do." "Stay, Lord John ; you must hear me !" Jean's gray eyes were full of tears. "I love Audrey better than anything on earth. I do not ask to know the reason, but I see, alas! only too well, that some thing has arisen between her and you. I ask you now, and it is my love for her that urges the question, will you not see her yourself before you start on this journey? will you not smooth away the quarrel? She is in trouble will you not take her to your arms?" "It is impossible," he said quickly, but with such determination in his voice as made Jean shudder, and sent a thrill of exquisite torture through Audrey's aching heart, as she, at that moment, opened the door in time to catch Jean's last words and her husband's reply. By and by, when they were speeding to Dover, Jean and Willie Fullerton who. when he found Jack did not join them, insisted on going in a corner talking earnestly, Audrey drew out her husband's letter. "Audrey In future, after the events of last night, it will be impossible for us to live together. This, I take it, will 1h as much your wish as mine. To continue to live as we have been doing would be a mockery of marriage, a disgrace to our race, a dishonor to our name. This, then. is what I propose to do. There shall be no divorce ; the pride and honor of the Harborough family protest against such a course. Atter all, you are very young, a mere child ; you may have erred through ignorance, but be that so or not, from henceforth you can never be my wife in aught but name. My wife must be above suspicion pure, sweet, true not a gin who, before scarcely six months of her marriage have gone, encourages a man for whom she openly expresses horror and contempt. "As for Beverley Rochfort, before many hours are over unless he be a cur, which I take him to be he will have answered to me for his own part in this affair. Audrey, I am trying to write kindly ; I am trying to remember your youth and the many disadvantages that have been vours since the first, and you if you have justice and honesty in your heart you will recognize that I am not treating you harshly, lour future is my care. This morning I have made my will. I leave you all the money I possess, to gether with Minster, in RIankshire, the property my father has just settled upon me. Whether I live or die, I wish you to make your home at Minster. I should like to think Miss Thwait was with you. Your money will be transmitted through my lawyers. I intend to start at once on a tour or tne worm, giving ine conai- tion of my health as a reason for thus relinquishing my parliamentary career. I shall be absent, perhaps, two years, and I leave it in your hands to judge whether at the end of that time your conduct has been such as to permit me to occupy the same house as yourself, and nppear be fore the world in my proper position as your husband. "JOHN GLENDURWOOD." When Dover was reached a telegram was brought to Jean. "For Lady John Glendurwood," the waiter said, inquiringly. "Is that right, madame?" "Quite right." Jean hesitated only a moment, and tore it open. She gave a little sound of sor row as she read. It was from Marshall poor, faithful Marshall and ran thus : "Mrs. Fraser died this morning. Her last wish was that you should not travel here, but that she should be carried home and buried in England. I, therefore, beg your ladyship to obey this wish. I have telegraphed for my poor mistress' lawyers. "SUSAN MARSHALL." Poor little Audrey! Robbed already of the mother she had longed for so much, loved so dearly, and possessed so short a while ! CHAPTER XXVI. There was nothing to do. Audrey fell into a sickness that threatened serious consequences. Jean sent at once for Lord Glendurwood and Fullerton, and he came in hot haste from a vain search for Bev erley Rochfort. There was nothing to be done but wait. Audrey had fallen into a stupor. Her dear mother was buried without the presence of her beloved child. For three days and nights Jean sat beside Audrey's bed, watching and dread ing for the moment when that fair, fmil face should grow even whiter, the faint, low breathing even fainter. Three long, weary days these were ; but if she found them terrible, how much more m did the one who had nothing to do put to pace to and fro In the wet, leafless garden, bin hungry eyes fixed always on the low, quart window which hid his darling frcui his view? The doctors forbade Jack Glen durwood from entering bis wife's sick room. He had crept in for a few mo ments (he night he arrived no argument or threat could keep him out; and as ho had bent over the girl's silent form, call ing to her in his agony to speak to him, she had opened her eyes, and at sight of him she had given one little scream, ami then had relapsed into unconsciousness, in which condition she had remained for three days and uights. When reason re turned Audrey was better, and Jena sought out Jack and told the good news. "And may I see her when?" he asked, eagerly. "When may I see her? My darl ing ! My darling !" "The doctor will tell you. Perhaps to night !" As Jean sat by Audrey's bedside that evening, resting back wearily in the chair, now that all extreme anxiety was gone, a small, sweet voice came from the pil low, and she was alert at once. "Jean," she said, after a little pause, "is Ja is my husband here?" "Yes, darling; he has been here nearly all the time. Do you want to see him?" "No, no, no! I will not see him, Jean. If you love me, send him away! I shall go mad if he is here! Promise! Prom ise ! You must ; you shall !" "It shall be as you wish, my dearest," Jean said, softly. "You can trust me?" "Yes trust you always," she mur mured, and in a few seconds she was asleep. Constance Fraser had been brought over to England and laid beside her moth er in an old-fashioned country church yard. It had been a simple funeral enough, though flowers had come from far and near. High and low, rich and poor, one and all, had a sorrowful thought for the sweet, gentle woman, who had merited a better sojourn on earth. Sheila was left to herself nnd her not very agreeable reflections. The masked ball had cost her an enormous sum. Lady Daleswater had never offered to take her away with her ; she had absolutely no no tion of what had happened to Jack and Audrey. Beverley Rochfort never made the least sign, and to crown all, Murray, the whilom maid at Craiglands. and her much too clever accomplice, took matters into her own hands and bolted one night with all the available jewelry and lace she could lay her hands upon. Enraged beyond all expression at the loss of her property. Sheila at once put the matter into the hands of the police, and, in fact, was far more interested in this affair than she was at the death of her stepmother. But a more disagreeable condition of things than this awaited Sheila when the report of Audrey's disappearance spread to Mountberry. She was fairly frightened ; ignorant of what might really happen, she conjured up all sorts of evil that would be visited upon her when the whole truth was given to the world, as it most probably would be. She eagerly searched for Rochfort, to force him to exonerate her from blame in the mischief they had brought about, but like a coward he was hiding from its consequences. Then one day she had a frantic visit from Alice Fairfax, who was in great and terrible fear lest something would hap pen to her. She had seen Willie Fuller ton, who had boldly stated that it was Lord John's intention to sift out the whole gossip that had been spread about his wife, and clear away much that he could not understand. "And if so, we shall be ruined, Sheila," sobbed Alice Fairfax; "but, anyhow, I shall tell the truth, and say you asked me to do " "You dare to turn on me !" Sheila flashed, furiously, white with anger, and then she would have proceeded to fur ther ebullitions of -wrath had not the door of her room been opened at this moment and Mr. Fullerton announced by the waiter. A glance at the two flushed faces would have satisfied Willie as to their guilt, if he had not, at that mo ment, reposing in his pocket, a complete confession signed by Murray, whom Daw son, the detective, had easily found this had been done at Jean's suggestion and who, discovering that her chance of a brilliant career on Sheila's jewels was briefly cut short, eased her conscience and her spite by disclosing the whole plot. Willie's interview with Sheila was short and to the point ; and when he left the room he carried with him her signa ture and a few words at the bottom of Murray's confession testifying that all the maid had written was true. (To be continued.) Fully Qualified. "So you're after the Job, eh?" said the milkman who had advertised for a holier. "Yes, sir." replied the young man. "Well, what exiorlence have you had?" "Why, I've pumped the orznn down to our church fur years." Philadelphia Press. A burnt Mlntlcd. Stranger (with suitcase) Can you advise me. sir. as to the nearest route to the leading hotel? The Native Straight ahead three blocks. Two dollars, please. Stranger Eh! Native Beg pardon. Force of habit. My card. I'm Dr. Pellet. Cleveland Plain Dealer. No Kraft In It. "See here," said the lieutenant of po lice, "that countryman claims he told you of his experience with a bunko man. but you paid no attention to hini." "Dafs all right," replied the cop. "lie didn't Interest me none. He admitted de bunko man had took de last cent be had." Philadelphia Press. i:uallr the Cane. "Say, pa," said Tommy, looking up from h!s paper, "what does 'obvious reasons mean?" "Usually, my son," replied pa, "It means reasons that the writer U too lazy or too Ignorant to explain." Phil adelphia Press. Coarenfent. . "So you hire three pairs of glasses, prof or?" "Yes one pair to read with, another for ni fir-slgbfedwvw, a:i.I a third pair to lk for the other two with!" File giade Blotter. GIRLS AND BOYS AT THE :U,7 'SHJ 'Mj JULIET T. STRAUS. The young animal of either sex, when arrived at the "smart" age, Is Indeed a trial to beholders In general and to parents In particular. Patiently, and In a chastened mood, we must live through the pert speeches, the heavy tragedies, the sickening affectation, the mouthing, the baby talk, the mincing walk, the wagging head, that belongs to the fool age. By turns we take courage, remembering our own idiocy and how we came through it, and again we never were quite so bad, and that our child is not merely at the silly age, but that the fool goes all the way through and there Is absolutely no remedy. In moments of desperation we wonder If a cudgel or a perforated shingle would do any good, and then parental affection gushes forth and we are appalled at the thought of so disgraceful a thing as corporal chastisement for a child supposed to be "grown." No, there is no help for It. We must let nature take Its course, thanking our lucky stars if the happy young fool comes off without ruining his prospects In life. In gazing upon the youthful subjects of this sketch, I wonder which Is more painful to the beholder who has come to years of discretion, to see them walk or to hear them talk. In walking there seems to be a sort of spiral wiggle In the gait that produces, at once, a strut and a wobble of the head deemed particularly pleasing. In talking there Is a disposition not to speak plainly, to bite off the words about half articulated and to assume a peculiar quirk of the eyes or twist of the mouth, which, It Is to be hoped, Is thoroughly enjoyable to the speaker as It Is so utterly exasperating to the hearer as almost to provoke to assault and battery, I once knew a rather belligerent old lady, who, In a luckless moment, fell afoul of one of these young women who was living through the fool period. After listening to her queer Jargon a while, the old lady Inquired: "Is there anything the matter with your talking apparatus, or Is this here mumblln' meant for style?" After all Is said and done, however, we old folks must return to the only remedy for our rasped nerves patience. We must bear with our dear ones and love them through It all and stand ready to confront them when the gayly-tinted balloon of fatuous fancy and self-esteem bursts and they come down with a dull thud to life and Its actualities. Juliet V. Strauss, In the Chicago Journal. HER LIFE'S SUNSET. ItoTV the Anstel of the Red Cross la Spending Her Declining; Year. Thirty years ago and even later, the name and the fame of Clara Barton were spread through two continents. She ranks to-day with the greatest heroines the world has ever knowa and history a half century from now will glow with accounts of her noble work. Yet she lives just out of Wash ington In a retirement that Is almost isolation, surrounded by only a few faithful friends, who have spent their lives In her service, and nearly forgot ten by the heedless generation that fol lows her. Now and then some old aud stanch friend of Miss Barton makes the long trip out from town to the big yellow house at Glen Echo, occasional sightseers and curious strangers Invade her solitude, and from time to time she makes a short trip Into the city herself; but for the most part she spends long, sunny days In the silent house overlooking the Potomac. This house, a roomy one built for a hospital for sufferers in the Johnstown flood and afterward given to Miss Bar ton and moved by her to Glen Echo, Is a rather dreary place In winter, al though It Is delightfully cool In sum mer. A trip down the wide hallway running through the center of this house, on a bleak winter's day, Is enough to chill the marrow In one's bones, but the long walk ends in a warm', sleepy sitting room which Is In viting In Its comfort Old-fashioned cushioned rocking chairs, u lounge with brlght-colered Afghans upon It, and a great waterfall of Wandering Jew In the window all breathe of the quaint home-likeness of a quarter century ago. Miss Barton fits into It like a picture Into Its frame, and a chat with her there Is the Bort of experience that finds one coming away 6mlllng a little. The winter months, when the Vir ginia hills opposite her study windows are forlornly bare. Miss Barton spends writing and reading. In spite of her 80-odd years, she Is still mentally keen and interested in all the events of the day, and she keeps up with current affairs to an amazing degree. Now and then articles from her pen are sought by various publications, and It Is hint ed, too, that she Is busily preparing a volume of recollections, which shall perhaps be somewhat In the nature of an autobiography. Miss Barton has for years been urged to write such a book, and since her connection with all public affairs was severed, some two or three years ego. she has been giving more and more time and attention to ner personal writings. Her habits while thus at work are curiously erratic. Ebe Is op earl la MISS CLARA B A ETON. SMART "FOOL" AGE. It Is to bo presumed that there Is n tlm In every life when the being that sustains a partic ular entity Is more or less a fool. It Is not presumable that one can always remain sensi ble. The greatest genius has his weak spots, and wo are to be congratulated If wo ever get past the fool mile post and reach the limits of rationality and mere common sense. It has been said that there Is no fool like nn old fool, and I admit that an old fool In the bosom of one's family Is trying, but I do not believe that he Is more so than the perverse, high-headed, young fool who has Just waked up to the seem ingly Incontrovertible fact that he owns the earth and the fullness thereof and that every body Is sitting back awe-stricken at his clever ness. In using the masculine pronoun, I do not mean to point out merely the boy fool, for I sometimes think his female contemporary can give herself away more completely than he can. the morning, and often by daybreak the scratch of her pen may be heard In her study. During the day she often takes little naps, resuming her writing with fresh vim, and frequently she will lie down from 8 or 9 o'clock In the evening until 10 or 11, rising then to go vigorously to work and write busily until 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning. One of her most faithful companions Btates that frequently, when she has had some difficult piece of writing to be done, she would go to the kitchen and work energetically with her hands, at can uing or Ironing or some domestic task all the while revolving her subject nnd Its arrangement In her thoughts. Then suddenly she would go to her room, take up her pen and write her article with scarcely the change of a word. She Insisted that her thoughts came much more clearly and smoothly when her hands were occupied. During the summer mouths Miss Barton generally goes to her old home, the little town of Oxford, Mass,, where she was born and where her remaining relatives still live. She Is dearly loved and reverenced there, and Is usually the patron saint of the young men and maids of the graduating classes. She has an unfailing Interest In young peo ple, and enters Into their ambitions and troubles with real sympathy. Another of her great pleasures Is the annual re union of the G. A. R., where she is always a beloved and honored figure. The old "boys" have never forgotten the heroism and courage with which she went among them, helping to save their lives, and here at least there goes out to her a gratitude which never for gets nor takes for granted the great work she has accomplished. Cloth to Stop Ballets. "A new protective principle for sol diers has been discovered by an Italian, Sig. BenedettI," says the Technical World Magazine. "Experimentation shows that great resistance Is offered by substances that have air within their cells. The principle may be Illus trated In this manner : Fire under pre cisely the same conditions In both cases, a bullet at each of two calendars, one of which consists of thick sheets of pa per, the other of thinner sheets. The ball will penetrate farther Into the cal endar of heavier material. This dif ference Is due to the elasticity of the layer of air that Is Imprisoned between the successive sheets. The thinner the cushion of air, the more elastic It Is, and the more sharply It reacts. "BenedettI, adopting this principle, has constructed a cuirass of a kind of felt It Is not rough, however, like or dinary felt The special features of this new device for stopping bullets the inventor has not as yet disclosed In any detail." Doi't Fit the Caaa. "Ton shouldn't have hit that man who called you a liar." "Shouldn't, heyr "No, yon should have demanded the proof, and If be could not produce It he would have been branded as a falsi fier." "That's all right ethically, but I knew he had the proof." Philadelphia Ledger. Extremal?. "The subject of the club discussion to-day was an extremely difficult one to bring op." "What was !tr "Children." Baltimore Americas, BITTY YEARS A PUBLIC SINGER Nil iHfeM CHARLES SANTLEY. Fifty years a public singer Is the record of Charles Santley, the most celebrated of English barytones whose Jubilee recently was marked by con gratulations and presents from musi cians and music lovers all over the world. Santley Is In his 74th year, and still retains a remarkably vigorous voice. In an Interview with a London corre spondent he said that he had no thought of retiring. Whatever time Is uot spent in rehearsal and performance In concerts Is devoted to the teaching of his art to students In London. He Is a complete master of his art, and he has succeeded perhaps more than any other Briton In spreading a love for It In his country. Though his ac tual debut took place In his birthplace, Liverpool, In 1853, he dot's not count his consecutive career to begin before his London debut, In 1ST7, when he sang off the same score with the great Julius Stockhauser. Ills inspiring barytone at once fascinated the public, and In both hemispheres he has been acclaimed as the equal, If not the su perior, In some respects to Edouard de Reszke. At Pavla, Italy, In the beginning of 1857, he stepped the boards for the first time as the doctor in "La Travlata." lie was an Impecunious youth then, and In Milan later he felt the pinch of poverty keenly till he met the famous Impresario, Henry F. Chorley, who sent him back to London, when he en tered the concert tours under the late Manuel Garcia, who recognized his wonderful talent. Since then he gain ed world-wide fame In oratorio and opera. A financial genius Is a man who can have a family and money at the same time. New York Tress. Either a man Is fool enough to specu late In the stock market or to try to have a vegetable garden. New York Press. Most people's Idea of a good cook Is one that can fix up a thing that you eat without guessing what it Is. New York Press. A woman can never understand how a man who Is careless about parting his hair can be successful In business. New York Press. It's a funny thing how so many widows think they ought to wear yel low hair for mourning the second year. New York Press. When a girl protends she doesn't like candy It's a sign she Is trying to grow thin. New York Tress. Vlevra of Maori Member, Twenty years ago when a bill fot the enfranchisement of women was In troduced into the legislature of New Zealaud one of the Maori members made a speech which for directness and force, from his standpoint, could not be surpassed, and It Is a littld strange thnt the radical opponents of woman suffrage, especially In England, where the Bubject Is an exciting one, have not unearthed It. The pithy and somewhat humorously suggestive re marks of the Maori member were as follows : "It will be a source of trouble. I think we hnve only to look back to the trouble that came upon Adam through his wife giving him an apple. We sliould bear In mind the evil that be fell Samson when Ws locks were shorn by Delilah ; also the story of Naboth's vineyard, where a woman incited a man to murder another In order to ob tain possession. If ladles were allow ed seats It would distract the attention of some honorable members. Although I am getting on In years, I must con fess I should be affected by a weakness of that sort. If only plain women were allowed In this bouse the source of danger would be removed, but If any beautiful ladles were sent they would lead astray the tender hearts of some honorable gentlemen, particularly the elder members. In conclusion. If at tractive ladles are allowed to come Into this house I aru quite certain my own wife will never consent to my return ing' here." Win Mam. , Wise He doesn't feel that he's ellgl ble for membership In your Browning society. Wood by You mean because be does not know anything about poetry? Wise Not at all. I mean because ' he's sensible enough to admit It FhU 'adelphla Press. 1 IrWtM