THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

x>y B. L. PARJBON.

AUTHOR OF

•« Blades- o' -Grass," "Joshua Marvel, "Bread and Cheese and Kisses," " Grif," " London's Heart;" etc., d*C, <CC

CHAPTER XXXIV,

GAUTRAN SEEKS JOHN VANBRUGII. The following night was even darker than the preceding one had been. In the afternoon portents ot a coming storm were apparent to the sky. Low muttering of thunder in the distauco travelled faintly on the cars of the occupants of the House of White Shndows. "Tho Advocate's wife shuddered n 3 she heard the sounds. " There are only two things in the world If am frightened of," she said to Pierre Lamont. " and those aro thunder and light ning. When I was a little child n dread ful thing occurred to mc. I was paying in n garden when a storm came on. I was nil alono, and it was some distance to the houso. Tho storm broke so suddenly that I had not time to roach shelter without getting drenched. I dare say, though, I should havo run through it had I not been frightened by tbo flashes of lightning that seemed to wait to cut me in two. 1 flow behind n tree, and stood there, trembling Every time a flash of lightning came I shut my eyes tight and screamed, as the stem did not allow ray cries to De beard. lon can imagine the state I was in. It would not have mattered except for the wettim*, had I kept my eyes closed, but like a little fool I opened them one**, aud ]ust at that moment a flash soemed to strike the treo behind which I stood, I can almost hear the shriek I "aye when 1 fell and fainted dead away. TWo lyinc in tho wot grass I was found. A dreadful looking objeot I must havo been. They carried me into the house and when I camo to I asked why they did not light tho gas. The fact is, I was quite blind ' To bo born blind cannot bo half as bad, for ono does not know what one loses, never having seen the flowers and the fields and the beautiful skies • but to enjoy them and then to lose them, it is altogether too; horrible to think of." * I She was very gracious to tho lawyer all tho afternoon, : ■ "Do you know," she said, I can t qnlto make up my mind whether to be fond ot you or frightened of you." , . "Bo fond of mc," said Pierro Lamont, with an amorous look, " I shall see how you behave, "I am afraid you aro very clover. 1 don't like clever peoplo, they oro so suspicious, protending to know everything always." ".'•;.',-.,, T . " I am very simple," said Pierre Lamont, laußhing inwardly; he knew that she wanted to propitiate him ; " and beauty can load me by a silken thread." " Is that another of your compliments. I declare if you wore a younger man you would be dangerous." She did indeed desire to win Pierre Lamont entirely toher, and she would havo endured much to make him her friend in stead of her enemy. Balcombe had told her that the old lawyer had slept in the next room to his, and she had set herself the task ef sounding the old fellow to ascer tain whether his suspicions wero aroused, and whether she had anything to fear from him. She could not help saying to herself, " What a fool mother Denise—who looked after the household arrangements—was to put him so close to Arthur Balcombe." " I do believe," thought Adelaide, " that she did it to spi'e me." Her mind, how ever, was quite at ease after chatting with the old lawyer. " I am so glad wc are friends," she said to him, " it is altogether so much nicer." Pierro Lamont looked reproachfully at her, and asked how she ever could have .. u _vp«a.«i<X l_«,:-w«M, -■*Maytto.r»e Qut he. most devoted worshipper and admirer. "Lawyers ore so fond of mischief," she replied, " that if it floes not come to them ready made, they manufacture it for them "l am no longer a lawyer," he said ; " if I were twenty years younger I should call myself a lover." " If you were twenty years younger." she rejoined, "I should not sit and listen to your nonsense." Being called away from his side, she turned and gave him an arch look. "Guilty, my lady, guilty," he said in wardly, " if ever a woman was. J*# * *

Daring the chief part of the day Gautran concealed himself In the woods, 'lwice in tho morning bad he attempted to present himself to his fellow creature*. He was hungry and in sore need of food, and he went to a way.'ide inn and called for some cold meat and bread and brandy.

"Can you pay for it?" asked the inn keeper, suspiciously. Gautran threw down a gold piece.

The innkeeper took it, bit it, turned it over and over, rang it on the wouden table, and then set the food before Gautran. The murderer ate ravenously ; it was the first sufficient meal he bad eaten for days. The innkeeper gave him his change, and he ordered more meat and brandy, and paid for them. While he was disposing of his second portion two men came up, eyed him. and passed into the inn. Gautran was eating at a little table in the open air. Presently the innkeeper came out, and looked athim. At first he was not conscious that he was being thus observed, he was so ravenously engaged ; but his hunger being appeased, he raised his head, and saw seven or eight persons standing at a little distance from him, and all with their eyes fixed npon his face.' . What are you staring at," he cried, "Did you never see a hungry man eat before 1" ' ■'

They did not answer him, but stood whispering among themselves. The idea occurred to Gautran to take away with him a supply of food, and he called to the inn keeper to bring it to him, Instead of doing so the innkeeper removed the plates and glasses in which his meat had been served. Having done this he joined the group, • and itood apart from Gautran without address ing a word to him. "Do yon hear?" shouted Gautran, '.'are you deaf and dumb ?" " Neither deaf nor dumb," replied the keeper; "we hear you plain enough." "Bring me broad and meat then," he said.

"Not anqthor. mprsnl " .f" 1- 4 **" :— keeper. "Tie on with you." " When I get food." "You will get none here—nor would you have bite nor sup if I had known," " Known what ?" demanded Gautran, fiercely. "Is not my money as good as another man's. " No." "Why?" " Because there is blood upon it." If this did not convince him that his name was known and i execrated, what next transpired wo-^id have enlightened him. • The innkeeper's wife <-. arae out with a glass and two plates in her band. "Arc these the things?"\V e asked of her husband, " the monster has Ugn eating out of."

"Yes," replied the innkeeper, She dashed them to tbe ground and shivered them to pieces, and the onlooker* applauded the aat.

"Why do you do that, mistress?" cried Gantran. "So that honest men shall not' be poisoned," was her answer, " by eating out of a murderer's dish, or putting their lips to a murderer's glass."

And the onlookers again applauded her, and kicked away the pieces. Gautran gazed at the men. and women, and asked - " Wfao do you take me for?"

*'Jfor Gautran. There is but one such monster. If you do not know your own face look upon it there. She pointed to the window, and theic he beheld his own por trait cut out of an illustrated paper, and beneath it his name, 'Gautran, to which had been added in writing the words—' The Murderer of Madeline, the Flower Girl.' " He could not read the inscription, but he correctly divined its nature. The moment before he saw his portrait it had entered his mind to deny himself ;,ho recognised now how futile'the attempt would be., , " What if lam Gautran!" he exclaimed. "Do you think the law would'set me free Ulwas guilty?" To which the innkeeper's wife replied, "Yon have escapod by a quibble. ' You arc a murderer;; arid you "know yourself to bo WAAAJiuyAAA;,ii J A

I " Mistress," he said, " If I had you alone I would make you smart." . __. •' How does that sound, men . cried the innkeeper's wife with oxcited gestures, "Is it the speech of nn innocent man . Ho would like to get mc alono 1 Yos, ho got ono poor girl alono, and we know what became of her ! The coward, the murderer, hunt him away neighbors. It is a disgrace to look upon him." "Who will bo tho first?' ho asked sava«ely. And seeing that they hold to gether ho retreated backwards with his faco to them, until a turn in the road hid them from his sight. Thou ho fled into the woods, and with wild cries slashed the trees with his knife which he had sharpened in the "early morning. And on the second occasion ho presented himself at a cottage door with the intention of beggiug or buying some food, lie knocked at tho door, and not receiving an answer, lifted the latch. Iv tho room wore two children, a baby in a cradle aud a five year old boy sitting on the floor, playing with a littlo wooden soldier. Looking up and seoing the features of the ruffian, the boy scrambled to his feet, and rushing past Gautrati, ran screaming down the road. Enraged almost to madness, Gautran ran after the child, and catching him, tossed him iv the air shouting, "Whatl you too, brat. This for your pains I" And standing over tho child was about to stamp upon him wh,"" be felt himself seized by Hie throat. It was the father, who, hearing Ihe child's screams, camo up just in time to save him. Then ensued a desperate struggle and Gautran, despite his boast to the Advocate, found that ho had met move than his match, He was beaten to the ground, lifted and thrown ill tho air, as ho had thrown the child, lie rose, bruised aud bleeding, and was shrink ing off when the man cried, '* Holy mother 1 It is the murderer, Gautran I" Some hVborora who wero coming across the fields were attracted by the ucuille, and tho father called out to them, "This is Gautran, the murderer, and he has triod to murder my child." This was sufficient for them. They wero armed with reaping books, aud thoy raced towards Gautran with loud threat*. They chased him for full a mile, but he was fleeter of foot than they, and despair gavo him streugth. He escaped them, mid sauk panting to the ground, Tho Advocate had spoken truly. There wa* no safety for him bcrc. He was known tor miles around. Hu would hide in the woods for the rest of tho dny. Thoro was but ono moans of escape for him. He must seek some distant spot, whore be and his crime were unknown. But to get there he would be compelled to pass through villages iv which he would bo recognised. It was necessary that ho should disguise himself. In what way could this bo done? He pondered upon it for hours. In the afternoon he hcaid ihe muttering of tho dis taut thunder in tho mountains. " Thero is a storm coming," he said, and ho rais d his burning face to meet tho welcome rain, But only a few heavy drops fell, and tbe wind moaned through tho old woods as if iv pain. Night stolo upon him swiftly, and wrapt him iv terrible darkness. He bit his lips, ho clenched his hands, his body shook with fear. Solitude was worse than death to him, Ho tried to sleep, in vain, terrible Imago, crowded upon him. Com patyhc must have, at all hazards. Sud denly ho thought of Jonn Vaubrueb, the man he had met tho night before on the hill I not far from the Advocate's house. This man nad not avoided him. So resolving, ho ' walked with feverish steps towards the hill on which John Vnnbrogh was keeping | watch. CHAPTKK XXXV GAUTRAN BESOLVKS ON A TLAN OP ESCAPE.

The distance was longor than Ckiutrai had calculated, and ho did not shorten i by the devious tracks he took in his anxiety to avoid meeting with his enemies.

1 ho storm still kept off, but the darkness seemed to grow thicker, and he frequently missed bis way. He kept on doggedly, however, and although tho shadow of his ciime waited upon his steps, and made itself felt in the sighing and moaning of the wind, in the bending of every branch, and the fluttering of every leaf, the craving for human companionship, in which there was something of sympathy, and from which bo would not be hunted iike a dog, imbued him with courage to fight these toirors. OlteOj iiidoßd did ho imuae and llirojilon with fearful words the .ceptre of the girl he had murdered ; and sometimes* ne lmploiud her to leave him, and told her he was going to pay for masses for the repose of her soul, Occasionally he was compelled to take the high roid, and then he was grateful for the darkness, for it prevented bis face from beiug seen. At tho-e times he slunk close to the hedges, as though dreaming that tho slightest coatact with a human being would lead to discovery. Terrible as the night was to him, ho feared tho approach of day, when it would be more difficult to conceal himself from his pnrsuors. He must escape, and in disgufco, before ho was many hours oldor. How was this to bo accomplished ? Once in the roadway he followed with stenlthy steps two men who were conversing. He would havo avoided them as he had avoided other?, had it not been that he heard his namo mentioned, and waa morbidly anxious to hear what they were saying about him.

Said one, ''I havo not set eyes npon this man-monster, but I shall know him if I meet bim in the light."

To which the other replied. "How will you manage that if you have never seen hh face ?"

"You ask a foolish question. Havo not full descriptions of tho murderer boen pnt about everywhere. His features, tho color of his hair, his clothes—from his cap to his boots—all is known. His face ho might disguise by a slash of his knife, if he has courage enough for if, or ho might stain it ; and in that way too, he might change the color of his hair. But his c'othes would remain ; ho cau't go about naked, and ho will find no ono to sell him n new suit, Tho shirt he wears is ono in a thousand, and there's ho mistaking it. it is bine, with broad yellow bands, which o icirclo his vil lainous body like rings. Hho throws that off he's in his bare.skin .1 et him get Another shirt if ho can. • Tho country is aroused for twenty rude, round, and men are resolved to take justice into their own hands. The law has a'lowcd him to slip through its lingers; ho shall not slip through ours. Why, he said to a woman this morning that he would know how to serve her if he had her alone, and not long afterwards he triod to murder a child, Shall such a monster bo allowed to remain at liberty to ravish women and murder the helpless. No, we don't intend lo lot him escape. Men are on Ihe watch for him everywhere, and when he is caught he will be beaten to death or hung upon the nearest tree. There is another end for him if he chose to take it. Ho can hide in the woods and starve, and when his body is found we can diive a stake through it. ai_l-. —, J _.__ U, o _..*-___ 4U. __,„. derer has not long to live."

For a little while Gautran shook with fear and rage. " I could spring upon them with my knife," he thought, "but they are two to one." And thoo, when the men were out of hearing, he shook his list at them and muttered, "Curse you! I will cheat you yet!" But how? Tlie description given of his shirt was a faithful one ; the broad yellow bands were there, and he remembered that two days before tho end of his trio], the gaolers had taken it from his cell in the night—had, indeed, forcibly stripped it from his body—and returned it to him ia the morning, washed, with the yellow collar brighter than it had been for months. He knew now that this had beon doueout of malice, in case he should be acquitted, so that he might be the more readily recog nised and shunned, or tho more easily tracked and caught if he were agaiu wanted. There came upon him a wish to foil those w'to had vowed to kill him, The man1 ho was-seeking had spoken in a reckless man ner ; W complained of the world, and was doubtless iv want of money. He had gold which the Advocate had given him; ho would offer to buy the man's clothe?, and would Rive bis own, and one, two, or even three gold pieces in exchange. Au easy thing to accomplish. But if the man would not consent to the bargain IHe smiled savagely and felt the odge of his knife. He was thoroughly desperate. Ho would sacrifice a thousand Jives to savo his own Out of this murderous alternative—and out of the words uttered by the man he had overheard, " His face he might disguise by a slash of the knife, if he has courage for it —grew ideas, which as he plodded on, gradually arranged themselves into n echeme which would ensure him an almost sure escape from those who had leagued themselves against him. Its entire success depended upon certain physical attributes in John Vanbrugh—but he would risk it even if these wero not as he wished them to be. The plan was horrible in its design and needed strength and cunning. Ho had both, and would use them without mercy, to ensure his safety. John Vanbrugh, with whose namo he was not acquainted, was

probably a stranger lv the locality ; some thing in Vanbrugli's speech caused him to suspect this. He would assure Himself first of tho tact, and then the rest was easy. Vaubtugh was about his own height and build j ho had stood by his side and know thin to bo so. Gautran should die this nipht in the person of another man, aud should be found in the morning murdered, with features so battered us to defy recogni tion. But he would be attired in Gnutran's clothes, and would by these moans be in stantly Identified. Then ho, the true Gautran, would bo for ever safe, In John Vanbrugli's garments he would make his way to a distant part of too country aud take another name. No one would suspect him, for Gautran would be dead, and he would buy masses for tbe repose of Made- Hue's soul, and to purge bimelf of blood guiltiness. As to this second contemplated crime, he gavo it no thought except, that it was necessary and must be done, "I believe," he muttered with a smile half of exultation, half ot fear, "that the Devil must be on my side, or he would not have put the idea into my bend."

Within half-an-hour of midnight, almost at the exact moment be hart accosted John Yanbrugh on th" previous night, he arrived at the hill, and saw tho shadow of v man who was le.itiing against a tree. Gautran had been walking for nearly three hours, during tho whole time the stoim of thunder aud lightning had continued, now retreating, now advancing, but its full force was spent many miles away, and did not seem likely to approach much nearer to the House of Whito Shadows. Father Limout, on his road to the houso of a sick woman, to whom ho had bcon suddenly summoned, was well acquainted with the signs, and was devoutly thankful that his little village was spared from the worst effects of such a tempest. " It is nearly two years," be mused, as he stumbled over tho darkroao, " since we had such n storm ns this, which is raging forty miles away. Lives wero lost then, and great damage done. If it should happen to travel towards us, there will be a deluge; but we must bow to the divino will." So the simple piiest wended his way to tbo bedsido of a stran.or, and armed with f.i. i and resignation, smiled, and was content.

"The man is there," muttered Gautran, "with his face towards tho Advocate's win dows : what ia his purpose ?" lie -vas curious about that, too, and that he would oudeavour to ferret it out. It might bo useful to him in the future, for it concerned tho Advocate. There was plenty of time beforo him to accompli'h his own murderous design. John Vanbrugh heard Gautran's foot stops. " Who comes this way?" ho cried,

" A friend," replied Gautran. "That is easily:said," cried Vanbniah, " I am not in iV trustful mood.' Hold of! a bit, or I may do you a mischief."

"Do you not know mc ?' asked Gautran, approaching closer, aud measuring himself with .the dark form, ot Ynnbrugh. They ,vero of exactly the santo height. "What, Gautran 1" exclaimed Vaubrugh in a gay tone. " Yes, Gautran."

"Welcome, fiiend, welcome," said Van burgh, with a laugh. " Give me your band. Veritable llesh and blood. You have a powerful grip, Gautran. [I 'thought wo should meet again. What caused you to make yourself so scarce suddenly last night ? You vanished like a cloud." " I had business to do, Have you any more Af that brandy about you?'

"I am not sure whether yon doscrvo it. Gautran. After emptying my flask you may make oil' again. A poor return for hospitality, my friend." "1 promise to remain with you—it is what 1 came for-if you give me brandy." "I take your word,"said Vaubrugb, pro ducing a flask. "Drink—but not too greedily," Gautran took a long draught and re turned the fhsk, saying, ''you have no

food, I suppose." '' Why, yes, I have, Warned by previous experiences, 1 supplied myself liberally for this night's watch. I'll not refuse you, Gautran, though I spend my last franc on it."

" Ah," said Gautran, with some eager ness, for an amicable exchange of clothing would render the more villanous pirt of his task easier of accomplishment, "you arc poor, then *" "Aye, ns a church-mouse—though the simile is as false as a priest's vows. Church men ami all tlioir belong Hog*. n.ico moimiau. !;„_. «-. ii-o Cat nf (bo land. I'oor ? Vis, but not for long, Gautran. Tbo days ol full purses arc comiup. llere is the food. Eat, rogue, car. It ia honest bread aud meat, bought and paid for ; none the sweeter for that. We kuow which fruit is the sweetest. So you had business to do when you took French leave of me ! How ruus the matter? I had just pointed out the Advocate's window to you—your own special Advocate, my friend, to whom you have so much reason to bo grateful when you disappeared like an arrow from a bow. What follows, then . That leaving me so abruptly, your business was so importaut, and that it concerned tho Advocate, flight or wrong, rogue 1" "Kight," replied Gautran, as ho de voured tho food.

" Como, that's candid of you, aud spoken like a friend, You did not know till I in formed you, that he lived in the villa yonder." "I did not."

"I begin to have hopes of you, And learning it from mo, you mado up your mind on tho spur of tho moment—your business boingso important—to pay him a friendly visit, despite the strangeness of the hour for a familiar call."

"You've hit it," said Gautran. John Vanbrugh pondered awhile, These dlroct awswors, given without hesitation, puzzled him. Ho expected to meet with prevarication, and he was receiving instead straightforward confidence. "You aro not afraid," he said, " to speak the truth to mo, Gautran ?"

" 1 am not." " But I am a stranger to you." "That's true."

"Why, then, do you confide in me t" It was Gautran's turn how to pauso, but ho soon replied with a sinister look which John Vanbfusjh, in tho darkness, could not sec, " Bccanso after what passes between us this night, I am sure you will not botray me." " , ' '.'

"Good," said Vanbrugh, "then it is plain you sought mc deliberately, because you think I cau iv some way serve you?"

"Yes, because you can in sonio way serve me. That is why lam here." "Then you intend to hide nothing from me?"

" Nothing; for the reason I have given," A flash of lightning seemed to striko tho spot on which he and Gautran were con versing, ami ho waited for the thunder. It came—lontr, deep, and threatening. " There is a terrible storm somewhere," he said,

" I docs not matter," rejoined Gautran, V-Ul> .. 0U..J.10., II _.- long oo « ...au 1. no. alone. Don't mind my coming so close. I have walked many a milo to find you, 1 have not a friend iv the world but you." " Not even the Advocate ?' ---" Not even him. Ho will see me no more." " Ho told you that last night." "Yes."

"But how did you get to him, Gautran You did not enter by the sites?"

"No, I dropped over the wall at the back, Tell, me, you; it is, but fair, I answer you honestly enough. . What are you watching his houso for ? A mau doos not do as you aro doing, on such a black night as this, for idle pastime. ( , "No, indeed, Gautran. I also have businoss with him, and, strangely enough, you, whom I met in the flesh fur the first time within the last twenty-four hours, are indirectly concerned in it," "Am I? Strange enough, as you say. But it will not matter after to-night."

Some hidden meaning In Gautran's tone struck warningly upon John Vanbrugh, and caused him to bestow a closer observance upon Gautran's movements from this momert.

"There is a thing I wish lo know, Gautran," he said. "Between vagabonds like ourselves there,is no need for con cealment. It is a delicate question, but you havo been so frank with me that, I will venture to ask it. Besides, there are no witnesses, and you will not then crim inate yourself. * The girl, Madeline, wko?e spirit follows you ." Vanburgh hes itated. Tho question he was about to ask trembled on his lips, and he scarcely knew how to give it shape in words that would not provoke au outbreak on tho pirt of Gautran. He had no desire to come into open collision with this ruffian, of whose.designs upon himself ho he was inwardly warned. Gautran, with brutal recklessness, assisted him.

"You want to know if I killed her ."

"Why, yes—though you put it rather, roughly." " What matter ? Well, then, sho. died , at my hands."

John Vanbrugh recoiled from toe mur derer in horror, and in a suppressed tone

asked—" When the Advocate defended you, did be know you vvxo guilty?" "Aye, we kept the secret to ourselves. It was cleverly worked, waa it not."

"And last night,'' continued John Van brugh," he received you iv his ntudy ? " "Ayr, and gave tne liquor, and food, and money. Listen to it." lie rattled the gold jiccci in the palm of his hands. " Look you, I have answered questions enou-li I answer no more for awhile. It i- my turn now." * . • ■ •'Proceed,' Gautran," .said V-mbrugb. " I may satisfy you or not, according to my whim. " You will satisfy me or I'll know the reason why. Thcro is no harm in what i am going to say. You arc a stranger in these parts—there is no ofl'tincc in t >a', is there ?"

" None. Yes, I am a stranger in these parts. Heavens! What a Hash I Ihe storm is coming nearer." "All the better. You hardly b liovc that I have been bothering niysplf about the colour of your hair. I bate md haired men. Yours, now, is there any offence io asking the colour of it '! " Nnno. My hair is black." Gautran's eyes glittered, and a Hash of lightning illuminated his face, and r Veal* d to Vanbrugh the savage and ruthless look which shone in thoni, "And your height and build about tho sunn in mine," said Giiutran. " Lot us strike a bargain. I have gold—you have none. I have taken a fancy to your olothes; I will buy them of you. Two gold pieces in exebango for thorn, nnd mine thrown iv." "The clothes of a murderer,' said lan brugh, slowl\ rctrcatiug as Gautran ad vanced upon him, "Thank you for nothing. Not for two hundred gold pieces, poor as I am. Keep oil. Do not como so near to i nio."

"Why not? You aro no better than I. Tlireo gold piocos. 'i lint should content you." " You have my answer, Gautran. Leave mo. I have had enough of you." "You will havo had more than enough before I havo done with you," said Gan trait, and Vaubiugh was uatislied now f. "n Gautran's brutal tones that it was a dead y foo who stood within a few inches of him— "If you do not as I hid you. Say, done und done; you'd bettor. By fair moans or foul, I moan to have whai 1 want." "Not by fair means, you murderous vil lain. Be warned, lamon my guard.1' "If yon will havo it, t^en 1" eriod.Gau. trno, and with ;a~ savaga shout he threw himself upon Vanhrugh. Bo suddon and tierce was the attack that Vanbrttgh could not escape from it, but although he was no match for Gautran in atrougth, ho had had in former years some experience In wrest ling, which came to his aid now in. this terrible crisis. Tho strugglo that ensued was 'prolonged and deadly, and while the men wero locked in cuoli other's arms, the storm seemed to break immediately over their heads. The thunder pealod above them, tho lightning played about their forms.

"You villian I" ga3ped Vaubrugh, as he felt himself growing weaker; "havo you been paid by tho Advocate to do this deed?"

" Yes," auswored Gautran between his clenched teeth ; " he is'tho devil*; agent, and I am his. Yonr last moment has como."

"Not jet,'' died Vanbrugh, and by a supremo and despairing effort ho throw Gautran clean from him, and stood sgaiu on tho defensive.1 Simultaneously with this movement a blade of forked lightning struck the tree against which Vanbrugn had beo'u lenniyg when Gantrnn iir-st ac costod lum, und cleft it in twain ; and as Gautran was about to spring forward, a huge mass of timber foil upon him with fatal force, and bore him to the eatth, whore.he lay imprisoned, etmhed, and Weeding to death.

OUAITEK XXXVI,

FATUKR CAPKI, mSC;>VEI>S GAUTRAN IN ins rutin,.

Father Cupel was wending his way slowly over the bills from tho bedside of tho sick woman to whom he* bud been suddenly summoned. At tho woman's wish his visit hud been briefer than bo hat desired, but Mic had insisted and !io was compelled to yield. She was very il and the poasants beneath wiio.se roof, sb«—a wanderer and inikn....-.! li. 11LI.IM—li.t.V foaml >,l,ulLut. r.,_..„.S sbo had not long to live ; but iho arrival of the good priest had imparted to her a won derful strength; nnd she had mado to him certain disclosures, which, veiled as they were, had grievously disturbod his usually serene mood. She had also givon him a mission to perform, which did not tend to compose bis mind, He had promised faithfully t) obey her, and they were to meet again on the following ni^ht, To his earnest request that sho would pray with him, sho had impatiently answered, "Thorc will b^ time enough after I havo scon the man you have promised to bring with you, and shall live till then," So ho had knelt by her bedside, and had prayed for her, for himself, and all the erring. His compas sionate heart had room for them all.

For twenty miles around tboro was no mun hotter loved than he. His life had been roproachlcss and his tendor nature never turned from the pcrformanco of a good deed, though it entailed suffering and privation upon himself. These were mat ters not to bo considered when duty beckoned to him. A poor man, and ono who very often deprived himsolf of a meal in the cause of charity, A priest in the truest seuso of tho word.

Seldom in tho course of a long merciful and charitable career, had he mot with so much cause to grieve, as on the presont occasion. In tho first placo, because it was an nddod proof of the many he hid received that a false step in life, in ths taking of which ono human beiug cansod another to suffer, was certain to bring at some time or other its own bitter punishment; in the second placu, becauso in this particular instance, tho punishment and tho remorse that must surely follow, were as torriblo as the mind of man could concoive.

His road lay towards tho hill upon which the desperate conflict between John Van brugh and Gautran wa,s taking plaoe. There was no occasion for him to cross this hill; by skirting its base he could reach his modest homo. But as he approaohed tho spot the wind bore to him, in momenta when the inry of tha storm was lulled,cries which sounded in his oars like cries of pain and despair. They were faint and difficult to ascribe to any precise definite causo ; they might be the cries of an animal, but even in that case it was luoro than likely that Father Capel would havo procecdod in their direction. Presently, - however, ho heard a human cry for help, the word was distinct, aud it decided his movements Without hesitation he commenced to climb the hill.

Aahc approached nearer and nearer to the spot on which the straggle was pro ooodlop;, mid mere was no longer room to doubt its nature. " Hoy Mothor," mur mured the priest, quickening his steps, "will the evil passions of men never be stilled. It seems a* if murder were being done bore. Grant that 1 may not bo too late to avert the crime." Then came tho terrific lightuing flash, followed immedi ately by Gautran's piercing scream as ho was struck down by a tree.

" Who calls for help ?'* criod Father Capel in a loud voice, but his words wero lost in the peals of thunder that shook the earth and made it tremble beneath his foet. Whon comparative silence reigned, he shouted again, " Who calls for help ?" I am a priest and tender it." Gautran's voice answered him. "Hero, here 1 lam crushed aud dying."

This appeal was not coherently made, but the groans which accompanied it, guided Father Cipcl to the spof. upou whioh Gau tran lay. He felt amid the darkness and shuddered at the touch of blood, and then he clasped Gautran's right hand. The tree had fallen' across the murderer's legs, and had so crushed thorn into, tho earth that he could not move the lower part of his body; his chest aud arm* wuro free.' A heavy branch had inflicted a lenibla gash on his forehead, and it was from the wound he was bleeding to death, " Who aro you," said Father Capel kneel ing to the dying man, "that lies heroin this sad condition t I cannot see. Is this God's deed, or man's ?" ■" It is God's," gasped Gautran, " and I am justly puniihed." "I heard tho sounds of a struggle be tween two men. Are you one of those who woro fighting in tho midst of this awful darkness ?'.'

"Yes, I am one." "And the design," continued Father Capol, "was murder. You-do not answer me; your silence is a sufiieient confirma tion. Aro you hurt much ?" : "I am hurt to death. In a few minutes I shall be in eternal fire, .unless you grant mo.absolution and forgivenoss for my crimes?". ...

"Speak first the truth, .Were you set npon, or woro you the attacker in this evil combat?"-* , , :..;:.'. • '

" I attacked him first." "Then he may be dead 1" exclaimed Father Capel, and raising hastily to bis feet, he peered into the darkness and felt about with his hauds, and called aloud, to know if tho other man was conscious. "This is horrible." said the priest, in deep perplexity, scarcely knowing what it was best to do ; " one man dying, another in all likelihood dead."

Ho turned as if about to go, and Gautran, divining his intention, cried in a tone of agony— "Do not leave mc, Father. Do not leave

me," "Truly," murmured the priest, " it seems to me that my present dtvy is more with the living than with the dead." He knelt agatu by the side of Gautran. " Miserable wretch, if tbe man you attacked be dead yon havo murdered him, aud God has smitten you for your crime. It may not be the only sin that lies upon your soul." " It is not, it is not," groaned Gautran. "My sir-mgih is deserting mo; I can hardly spe ik. Father, is there hope for a murderer '! Do not let mc die yet. Give til's something to revive mc. I am faint ing." " I have nothing with me to rcstoro your strength. To go for wine and assistance to remove this heavy timber which imprisons you—my woak arms cannot stir it—will take fully half an hour It will bo best, per haps for mo to take this course; in tho moan limo pray, miserable man, with all tho oarnestness of your heart and soul for Divino forgicvuess. What is your name!" "lam Gautran," faintly answered tbe murderer. Father Capol'a frame shook under the influence of a strong agitation. " From tbe bedside of the woman I havo left within the hour," bo murmured, " to this poor sinner who has but a few minutes J to live 1 'J ho hand of God is visible in it." He addressed himself to the dyiug man— " There is but one Gautran ; you aro he who was tried for the murder of Madeline, the flower girl ?" " I am he," moaned Gautran "Hearken to mo," said Father Capel, "for that crime you wero tried and ac quitted by an earthly tribunal, which pro nounced you innocent. But you are now 1 about to appear before the Divine Throno for judgment, and from God nothing can bo hidden. He sees into the hearts of men. Who is ready—as you but now admitted to mo—to commit ono murder, and who perhaps, has committed it, for from tho silonco I infer that the body of ■ your victim lies at no great distance—will not shrink from committing two. Answer mo truly ns you hope for mercy. Wore you guilty or innocent of tho murder of Madellnot" "I was guilty," groaned Gautran. " Wretch that I am, I killod her,- So that . no other man. should havo her bat mo. I loved her fathor, I love her." Gantran, from whoso lips theso words had como amid gasps of agony, could say : no mora ; his sonses were fast leaving him. "Ah mo—ah mc 1" saidFathor Capel, "■ how shall such a crime bo expiated ?" "Father," moanod Gautran, rallying a little, " had I lived till to-morrow I in tended te buy masaos for the repose of her soul. I will buy them now, nnd for my own soul too. 1 have money—feel in my pocket, there is; gold. Take it all, every piece, and tell me lam forgiven." Father Capel did not attempt to take tho money. "Stolen goods will not buy absolution or the soul's roposo," ho said, sadly. " Crimo upon crime, sin upon sin." Gautran, evil spirits havo been luring you to destruc . tion." " I did not steal that gold gasped Gau i Iran. "It wa. given to mo, freely given." " Forgivoness you cannot hope for," said Father Capel, " If in these awful moments yon swerve from tbe truth by a hair's breadth. Confess you stole tho gold, and tell me from whom, so that it may bo re stored."

* "May eternal torments be mine if I stole it. Believe mc. Father believe me. I spesk tho truth." " Who gave it io you then ?" "The Advocate." " Tho Advocate 1 He who dcfetided you, and Jso blinded the judgment of men to cause thorn to set a murderer loose ***" " Yes ; he and no other man." "From what motive, Gautran—com passion '!'' "No ; from fear." " What reason bus ho ro four you ?" "1 have h s secret, as ho had mine, and I*, wished to get lid of mo, so that he and I. should never Rice*, n^iuii. 11 was tor tbat he gave me the gold," " What is the natuc of this secret which mado him fear your pre-enco I" "tie knew me to be guiliy." " Merciful God ! When ho defended you, ho knew you to bo guilty !' " Aye ; be knew it well." " Incredible - horrible," exclaimed Father Capel, raising his hands. "Ho sharod then, your crime. Yes, though ho com mitted not tho deed, his guilt is as heavy as tbo guilt of tbe murderer. How will ho atone for it—how can he atone for It I And if what I otherwise fear be true, what pangs of remorse await bim 1" A frightful scream from Gautran atrested his further speech. "SaVo me, father, save me 1" shrieked ho wretch. "Scud her away—tell her 1 repent. Sec, there—there! iSho is creep ing upon mc, along tho tree l" " What is it you behold amidst the dark ness of thi? appalling night?" asked Father Capel crossing himself "It is Mnaoliac. Her spirit that will nover, novor leave mc! Will you not be satisfied, you, with my punishment ? Is uot my death enough for you? You fiend —yon fiend I I will strangle you if you come closer. Havo mercy—mercy I You are a priest—havo you no power cf her? Then what is the use of prayor. It is a mockery- a mockery. My eyes aro filled with blood—ah 1" Then all was silent. "Gautran," whispered Father Capel, •• tako this cross in your hand—put it to your lips—and repeat the words I say. Gautran,.do you hear me ? No sound—no sound. He is gone to his account unrepon tantand unforgiven,"1 * Father Capel rose to hts feet. "I will seek assistance at once," he said ; "there is another to be searched for. Ah, terrible, terrible night I Christ havo moiey upon us I"

And with a heart overburdened flith grief, the good priest loft the spot to bring assistance.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE WBITTIH CONPBSSION.

DUKING the whole of this interview John Vanbrugh had lain concealod within two or three yards of the fallen treb, and bad heard every word that passed between Gautran and Father Capel. For a few moments after he had thrown Gautran from him he was dazed and exhausted by the Struggle in which ho had been engaged, and by the crashing of the timber, which had savod him from his deadly foe. Gradually he realised what had occurred, and when Father Capel's volco reached his cars he resolved not to discover himself, and to bo a silent witness of what transpired. In this decision lay safety for himself, and absolute immunity, for Gautran know nothing of him, not even his name, and to bo dragged into the light to be mado to give evidence of the scene iv which he had been a principal actor, would have seriously interfered with his plan of action respecting the Advocate Favored by the night ho had no difficulty in concealiog himsolf, aud he derived an in ward satisfaction from tho reflection that he might turn even tbs tragic and unexpected event that had occurred to his own im mediate advantage, Ho. had. not been seriously hurt in the conflict, a fow hruises and scratchos comprised tho injuries ho had received, I

Among his small gifts lay tho gift of mimicry; he could imitate another man's voice to perfection, and when Father Capel left Gautran, for the purpose of obtaining assistance, an idea crossed his mind which he determined to carry out. Ho waited until he was assured that Father Capel was entirely out of hearing, and then he stopped from his hiding place and knelt by the side of Gautran. Having now no fear of his enemy, he placed his ear to Gautran's heart and listened. "He breathes still," he thought; ' there is yet a little life left in him." be raised Gautran's head upon his knee, and taking his flask of brandy from his pocket, he poured some of tho liquor down the dying man's throat. It revived him 5 he opened his eyes languidly, but ho had not strength enough loft in him to utter more than a word or two at tho time.

" I havo letutned, Gautran," said John Vanbrugh, imitating the voice of tho priest. " I had it not in my heart to desert you in your last moments, Tho man you fought with is dead, and in his pocket I found this flask of brandy. ' It serves one good pur poso ; it will give you time to earn salvation, You have two murders upon your soul. Are you prepared to do as I bid you ?" " JNo," replied Gautran.

" Answer my questions then. What do you know of the man whom you have slain ?" "Nothing." , " Was he, then, an absolute stranger to

yon ." " You do not even know his name ?" , "wo,"

"There is no time to enquire into your reasons for attacking him, for I perceive from your breathing that your end is very near, and the precious moments must not bo wasted. It is your soul—your soul— that has to be saved ; and there is only one way. The guilty must bo pnnished. You have mot your punishment. Heaven's lighting has stmck you down. These gold pieces which I now take from your pocket shall be expended in masses. Keet easy, rest easy, Gautran. There is but one fling for you to do, and then you will have mado atonement. You hear me; you understand me ?"

"Yes, quick—quick 1" " To die, leaving behind you no record of the guilt of your associate—of the Advocate who, knowing you to be a murderer, delibe rately defeated the inds of justice would be to provoke Divino anger against you. No hope for pardon in that cine. Can you writo ?" "No." "Your name, with my assistance, you could trace." " Perhaps," " I will writo a confession which you must sign. Ihen you will receive absolu tion."

Ho poured a few drops of brandy down Gautran's mouth, and they were swallowed with difficulty. After which he allowed Gautran's head to rest upon the earth, and tore from his pocket some blank sheets of paper, upon which, with much labour, he wrote tho following : - " I, Gautran, the woodman, lately tried for the murder of Madeline, the flower girl being now upou the point of death, and conscious that I haVe only a few minutes to live, aud being also in the full posses-ion ol my reason, hereby make oath and swear : — " That being thrown into prison, await ing my trial, I believed there was no escape from tho doom I duly merited, for the reason that I was guilty of tho murder. "That some days before my trial was to tako place, the Advocate, who defended me voluntarily, undertook to prove to my judges that 1 was innocent of ..the >rime 1 committed.

"That, with this full knowledge, he con ducted my case with such ability, that 1 was set free and pronounced Innocent. " That on the night of my acquital, after midnight had struck, and when every person but himself in .the House of White Shadows was aslcop.T secretly visited him in his study, and remained with him lor some time.

" That he gavo me food and money, and bade me go my way. ' " That I am ignorant of the motives which induced him—to whom lam a per fect stranger—to deliberately defeat the ends of jiißtico. " That the proof that he knew me to be guilty lies in the fact that I mado a full confession to him.

■ " To which I soleraly swear, boing about to appear before a just God to answer for my crime. I pray for forgiveness and mercy, ■" , " Signed ■ " ' And here John Vanbrugh loft a space for Gautran's name, tits read the statement to G.iutran, who was now fast sinking, and then ho raised the dying man's head m his ami', and, holding the poncil in his almost nerveless fingers, assisted him to tiace the name " Gautran."

This was no sooner accomplished than Gautran, with a wild scream, fell back.

John Vanbrugh lo.t not another moment. With an exultant smile he placed the fa a evidence in his pocket, and prepared to de part. As he did so be heard the voices of men who were ascending the hill. "This paper," thought Vanbrugh, as he crept softly away in an opposite direction, ')■ worth I should should say at least half the Advocate's fortune. It is the ruin of his life aud career, if he does not purchas*-. i of mo on my own terms, let him look to himself."

When Father Capel, with the men he had summoned to his assistance, arrived at thi spot upon winch Gautrnuluy, thomurderei was dead.

{jv oe Continued.)

HALF A LOAF.

" Halv a loaf is better than no bread Chatlie."

Little Mabel Castleton said this wist fully; her eyes, as sho spoke, wandering to the cadlo, where two curly heads wore IyIDS- - ;,

" But when one has had the wbolo loaf May, one does not exactly relish the half rations you mention," said Charlie, moodily. But his eyes followed his wife's to the cosy nest of the twin babies.

" It is a bad time of year to bo out of a situation," said Mabel, after a long silenc, "and many of whom we know aro idle. It would not bo very easy to find employ, nient now."

"You think I bad better remain with Mr Mifflin."*'

" I do. Tell me exactly what he said to

you," " Tho substance of what he said was simply this : Business is so very dull that he is obliged to curtail bis expensee, and he must discharge some of the clerks. I have been with' him ten year.**, and he, was ploasod to say I am very useful to him, and he ia very unwilling to part with mo, But he can give but half my present salary, though ho promises to raise it when business prospects brighten. I don't know what to do. We aro none too n'ch at my present salaty." , '■ Vet we've saved something each month. Besides, dear, we havo not tried to bo, economical. Thers aro many ways In which I could save." "Arid make, a perfect slave of your, self.'" ' ■■'.-,' .. .: , " Not a bit of It. . I have plenty of leisure time, now that May and Bella can amuse each, other. Come, Charlie, accept Mr 'Mifflin's o&or. You may hear of something bettor, oven if you remain there; but don't throw yourself out, of a situation in tho dead of, .Winter, for my sake and the children's.',' The last argument conquered., Ohar^ ie knew too well that it would be »\ mos . useless to look for a new situation f or tue whole town was echoing Mr Mifl\' m '> 8 cr y 0 { hard times. Tho small nest eg'j j n the n j. would soon melt away who;.. It became the sole support of four, and k, o _ kissing Mabel, he promised to follow her advice. But it costjiis pride a sore wrench. He had onterod the service of his pro<ent employer at soventeon, and slowly, steadily gaining favor by dint af faithfully perform ing every duty, he had won his way to the desk of head clork, Not until he had ac quired this position and the handsome salary accompanying it would he ask Mabel to become his wife, furnishing a pretty little cottage home from his savings, and giving hora thoroughly comfortable income for household expenses., do was not ex travagant, but it pleased him to see his wife well dressed, to give hor an eflicient servant, to have histwln girls ever presentable, his tablo well appointed. All this had been easy enough upon his salary, and there had I'oen something added for three years to the little bank fund, i I," Then what would Will say ?*' Will Castleton was Charlie's cousin, who had beou his life long companion. Together they had left the school-room for a business position, Will entering the grain store of Harvey & Kusaoll at the same time Charlie had taken the place in Mr Mifflin's dry goods store. Shoulder to shoulder the young men had worked thoir way till this financial crisis had brought all business men into temporary difficulties of greater or less magnitude. Will had expressed the warmest indig nation at tho proposal made his cousin, strongly advising him to throw up his situation ard "see how old Mifflin would get along without him," nnd Charlie, before seeing Mabel, was quio ready to follow his advice. He knew Will would think him mean to remain upon half salary, and yet Mabel was right. Half a loaf is better than no bread. And while Charlie Castleton was thus weighing the pros and cons of his decision, Mr Mifflin waa listening to the counsel of his old friend and chum, the senior partner of tho firm that had been Gardner & Mifflin, and who, though he had retired years bofore, was still the friend and frequent adviser of his former partner. "It is a mistake, Mifflin," ho said. "You had bettor send young Castleton about his business and engage an entirely new book-keeper. You will find that half pay means half-servico, mark my word." "But I might search C from end to

end and not iind a clerk competent to take his place," "ilion pay him full salary. "I cannot do it unless I roduce the number of salesmen, and I am short-handed now. There is but ono wav to keep my head above water. You see Clark's failure involves me very heavily and " — And here the worried man of business entered into explanations of his difficulties not necessary to repeat here. it touched Charlie Castleton deeply when entering the counting house to announce his determination to remain in his old position, to see the face of his employer brighten, And as Charlie spoke the large eyes grew brighter and he smiled pleasintly as he said: ... , - , '•Thank you Charlie. It would have caused me serious embarrassment to lose you, and I am heartily glad you will stay. I trust you will not long be obliged to take a small salary, but circumstances compelled me to economize." " You have been a kind employer to me for tea years," replied Charlie, "and if I am really of any more value to yoo than another would be in my place I will not desert you." .... And looking into the careworn Uce that trouble was marking more deeply than age, Charlie resolved to serve Mr Mifflin more faithfully in his perplexities than his more prosperous days. It was not long before the old gentleman felt tho sympathy of hi. young clerk and looked to him as ho never did before, lot advice as well as for service. He admitted him to confidential relations, explained to him the difficulties caused by the failure of other fiims seme heavily indebted to the firm of Joel Mifflin, others upon whom he had depended for goods obtained upon ciedit. Day by day, as the hard, trying Wioter wore away, the two friends grew faster and so far from lessening his woik, Charlie found himself willingly lifting some of his employer's burdens upou his own shoulders, And Mabol, at home, was bravely taking her share of tbe diminisued loaf with a smiling face and a cheerlul heart. As far as might be she kept from Charlie a know ledge of her domestic economies, but some of them were apparent. The woman whose competent aid de manded high wages was dismissed, and a half grown girl wa< engaged to mind the babies whileMahel cooked and washed, and ironed, and sowed, meeting difficulties with a courageous heart. She had never been a drone in the world's hive, having been a nu-y little dressmaker before Chwles Castle ton won her heart and took her to preside over his pretty horn*. But for three years of her married Ufa she had been much petted, and there were many pleasures to put aside, many dollars well weighed before they were spent. It was with a heart full of pardonable triumph that the yoong couple, at the end of the year of reduced pay, found they ware still out of debt and had not touched the nest egg in the bank. .'.'.. '. ■ " You see, Charlie, we made the half loaf go round," ssid Mabel, as they went carefully ove:t the year's expense book. "There are.no crumbs," he said, with a weary face. ; ' " aever mind that; it waa better than idleness."

"You are right: and there was more than that, Mabel. I havo been able to help Mr Mifflin more than 1 could hive done Id our old relations to each other. His per plexities made him long for some one to whom he could speak confidentially, and when the ice was once broken he took me mlly into his business onfidence. I could, often suggest a way ont of difficulty that had not occurred to him. and even when 1 was not of actual use to him it was a relief. to pour out hi. troubles to some one who was in full sympathy wtih him." "But you have worked very hard, Charlie, I never saw you a > tired as you often havo been this year, and your face is moro careworn than it has ever been before." ' ■ * . " Well, it is some comfort to know that business prospects are growing brighter.' ijy closest economy Mr Mifflin has managed to meet the obligations he was afraid would ruiu him and there is a good lookout for the coming yeir." " Will he give you a whole loaf yet, Charlie ." "Not yet, I think. Never mind. .We will not despond yet." " Despond : I guess not. lam going to have some of these crumbs you wee speak ing of next year. I have learned some valuable lessons in saving." easy one to Mabel. A wee baby, in addition to the three-yearb' old twins, kept ihe moihor's hands busy, while there was no decrease in the household work. Many articles of clothing and housekeeping, too, that lasted well one year, were past service iv iho second, and it was not so easy to re place them. , Often Mabel feared the saving for a " rainy day " must be broken in upoD, but she kept all Buoh fears shut up in her own heart and always had a bright word of cheer for tired Charliß when he came home.:

She never told him that the late break fast that she had planned to let the babies sleep while he ate hi. early one, comprised none of the little tempting dishes of his own meal, but was literally bread and milk six mornings out of the seven. She never let him know ihat the reason she suggested his lunch down town, to save the long walk home, was really to save the price of that meal toward the dinner, the dainty little parcel he carried nearly costing the price of a regular meal for them all. She did not toll him that she was cutting up her old dresses to clothe the twin girls, and sewing busily every leisure moment to ktep aU the Utile ones tidy. And yet there came a day in June, when six months of the second year were almost gone, when she spent the last dollar of the week's money while the week was half gone. Chalie had given her, long before, some signed checks to meet ouch an emer gency, but it was her pride to think that not one of them had been presented at tbe bank.

She took one from the desk where they ' bad lain to long and apraad It out belc her, oalculatiug with packers an her ••-■• j: c faoe how small a sura she could sti"' Vr«ty tho nocessary expenses. ..-.ten over "I hate to begin," she a""., ~_ , , «if onco we break in u«* **!• *? al£ a,°ud > will molt away li1" - .-on thatmoney.lt gnn n ' ..o snow before the

MabeTknl" "$> ,a^ raaiive bf' debt- °"d willinat- '* ,ha* Charlie would never be a oan' '° owe aay man a cent "hil*3 k> l""*! * -•- with which to'pay him. So, with a <-~eat sigh, she dipped the pen in the ink to till out tne blank check, Before It touched the paper, however, she paused listening. There was a step in the hall that was not that of the nurse of her charges, a voice ringing out full and clear, calling :— "Mabel 1 Where aro you, May ?" " Hero In my room," she' answered. " Oh, Charlie, what is it?"

For the face at the door was so radiant that all care seemed to have slipped from it forever.

"Good news, May I And yet—perhaps I should feel sorrow too, only I did not know him,"

" What are you talking about." " Did you read this morning paper ?'' " Yes" "Did you notice the death of Amos Gardner ?"

" JNo, Is that the Mr Gardner who used to be Mr Mifflin's partner before you went into the st>re ?"

"Yes; he was a bachelor, and he has left his whole estate to Mr Mifflin except a few legacies. The store will be closed till after the funeial; so we have three days' holiday, May."

" I am glad you will be able to rest J" "But that is not all. Do you guess the rest ?''

" Yon are to have your old salary again I" " More than that Mr Mifflin took me to his house this morning and told me all his plans. He will enlarge his business and take on all his old salesmen who are willing to come. He has piven me permission to offer a position to "Will Castleton, who has been nearly a year out of employment be oause he would not accept your theory of ' half a loaf being ' better than no bread,'" "I know, Poor "Will II am afraid that Maria had a worse year th n ours has been. Charlie."

" >'oris this all, Mny." " More good news still ?'* " More still ! Mr Gardner, MrM fflin says, did roe some injustice some time ago by supposing that I #ould poportion my work to the decrease in my salury. To atone for thU he has left me live thousand dollars." "Oh, Charlie I"

" Hold on. little woman; he also advised Mr MifHin ia their very last inteiveiw. to reward me for my faithful, disinterested devotion to him in bis late difficulties, by taking m. as a partner in tho busia-ss." " Charlie ! Oh, my Charlie 11 must either laugh or cry," said Mabel almost hysteric, ally.

"Laugh, then by all means 1 The new firm of Mifflin & Castleton must not bo christened by tears, even happy ones J Hurrah 1 who says after this thathalj a loaf is not better than no bread ?"

FOR THE LADIES.

THEUDII~ | R ooda,an.ile,ho Wgo ; d^

Foet-The hair from a ladv's^ t never be worn on the lappelof aS, sho«l*i coat, unless the parties are engage^

"Ihe lady who was married in. _ Cincinnati the other day has ahowiu*' 0 affected her by bio Mug np hl?hoffit .ky-bigh. B p ber husbani

,„ Zephyr Petticoats" are the 1.Q,, old Murnford opines that hisdau.l, tiln*i be even more fly-away than the, «.*'■• was. '"*ito

A sharp-talking lady was reprowi ft husband, who requesttd her to . "WI tongue in her mouth. " Mv OaHS said, "it's against the law toS'■*» cealed weapons," "Jem,

Gsntlkman (calling the __^M friend ) -" Is your mistress ia " ,?A —" She is, sur. " Gentlemak_ iftfffr engaged ?" Mary-" Faith __.< *• than that—she's married." ■ ■*»{

A cruel joke at the expense' .1i ladies who are perpetually atrivin, *. a hearing in the P_e.s has ffiS* round of literary circles, to the eff.S.s' they look much better■ ta m3_4« print." """aula

A South End woman received . i, gram, and her face blanched and h*.; ft trembled as she held the unSl^ lope before her. Giving it to HtfSsS. she said: " Bead it."V, Shi B*** "Papa has broken his leg aofwM' hospital. The mother's face tSth ■'Thank Heaven it is no w&>HS "1 feared he might be _£ $& somebody to dinner." gMDg *<***.

A Parisian fast youth has been or__»„. _ Biarritz to recuperate. Hia Mm „Z to' on his departnre gives him for higeiSf* a pocket-book containing t wo 2._ francs. , Arriving at -thelndicatedfS the patient proceeds direct to the caafij loses hu hundred louU in father leasT as many minute.. He telegraphs Q mother, "Please send money-.....L.T book." After lunch, iJgSgSI tone declares against hi m i.lentlesilv _S at act of sun he ia "cleanea W.2 more Another tehfenunis. abßofuteh eeeaaaary, and he sends ltoff_mm..D as follows-" Bend money, please »! ! ftr.tr«quested; pocket-hook found. b_L. (empty, 1' . '," , ,*" ™■ |

THB close and careful luqaiiie. of M, Edward Atkinson, of Boaton, h all Z leading factories of Mew EngU B dha?j Z tablished a curions fact in res. _t to Z cotton spinner. »ew England gbLj C_ given plaoe to the operatives of £ore_gahir__ in the cotton industry of the State* t 1840 nearly all the operatives. werei'ki 1 New Englandei-s, and were mottlytd.ogh I ters of larmers engaged doting the SI dead* 1 season. Mow, althoagh themills are better ' lighted and ventilated, and ithe* h-itr of labour are not solong, aoneof theleijiiij are at work. Mr Atkinson's theory ia that many other departments of labour.lk-, sprung up demanding; higher< iatelligence and i-kill, and that it is imo these Vankes girls have gone, leaving to their -French- Canadian sisters a practic d monopoly of th« field they formerly occupied,

LADIES TEA-GOWNS.

Drawa the last five years one more-$K of attire has become indispersable Id a »*,_, appointed wardrobe—the tea-gow^; - § m l months ago there was ah. ex^fdiioa t! ladies' hygienic clothing. Foremosta,.-™ this should have been the teagowa* We would draw the attention 0 f those* v.. lecture for the National- Health Society m clothing.dress and deformities, to this gar. raent. The custom now is among ladies of "ton"to wear a 'lea-gown,* whio_,itmay be explained for the uninitiated, isnothingl more than an elegant form of dmiing gr.jru, therwhole afternoos, and evenVuhe. «i familh to dine in it. AS Its ns'oi limlly onables .the wearer to dispen.e' with Its corset,, the hygienic valne of the tea-gore is apparentr it has been stated that font ladies wear corsets even beneath the-fc.. gowns, but they are in a small minoiitv. If the tea gown be the pioneer of othergs} ™^»to -n-lii.l. may expunge corsets from lb list of ladies' clothing, it should indeed!* welcomed. This, however, is not unlikely. Still the wearing of it is a fashion uMtliil may be hoped, for the sake of i those trig follow it; may be more than a passing , fancy.—"Medical Journal.'

THE CURIOSITY OF GLOVES.

Some curious customs are connected tili gloves, for instance, the ceremony if re moving them when entering the Btafeoii prince or a great man, or else forfd&g them or their value te tbe servant ia dirge, j This is an old survival of vassalage, forth. 1 removal of the glove was anciently a uai of submission. When lands or tides fere bestowed, gloves were given at the see time; and, when for any reason the M wer6 forfeited, the offender was depmeioi the light to wear gloves. The same ido was prevalent in the bestowal of-a'W.i glove, to bo worn in the helmet of her knigh. and forfeited by him if her favour ceasti In hunting, the gloves are supposed w^ removed to-day at tbe death of tho'j™ It was a very ancient form of ackne* ,A ment to present a pair of glove* ;i'. -.j,. factor; and white gloves a» b rfv'rirMe_toi no the judges at maiden ■*,•£ss&s . •* «tssi_es. t ....7,,,-,

UNKNOWN.

XlB" 'as the seventeenth iratnryjiim" £°i- .nary in some parts of Ireland for tki - idegroom's friends to receive those ot w bride with a sh»«er! of 'darts, cawMj dlreoted ion t» fall harmless;,WW Kaimsß. who died in 1782, drposestts lW marriage observances of the welth oliw day weresignificanrlysyaibolical of mumw by capture, the 10-pctlveiriendsolue bride and groom meeting'onhotseteltjW former refusing to deltv.r theladyooae mand and bringing about a sham wnro, during which the nearest kinsman of w bride, behind whom the ii mounted, 'Me loped away, to he pursued if ! '-™ T?5 party until men and horses'M* enough of It, when the bridegroom i«F mttted to overtake the pretended m__ and bear her off in triumph. Theßemcoisot France are the only European» f among whom the form of capture mm vires. Upon the day of a wedding the am of a bride's house are closed andbamaaeo, the windows barred, and her 'mew^ tered within. Presently the M***" 1 party come asking admission on onsjw pretence after another. Finding speecU .« no avail they endeavour to m_mM trance, with no better fortune,. Then com" a parleys the besiegers proclaim WJW brtng the lady a husband, and are i*£ ted within doors, to fight te&tiSgff; of tho heart, win it, and the br.de wtoit, the couple beinj? forthwith united in «» orthodoxsfashion.-^«^« Yearm**-*

LOVE AND SCORN.

Love, loyalest and lordliest born of tb&W Immortal that shonldat be, thorn* Mms_ In plighted hearts ot fearless fneMtirP WhOße hand may curb or clip thy phm»' $«**■• Not^Oriof's nor Tlme's-though the. c tela* and kino. *j«,i Crowned, and their yoke bid vaf __i .jerfo" bend, ,_.,«, •« Thoy may not place the spin' j of ten*'*** blend „ ,„ ' '-';:A_. Quick poison with the sonl's life w _tetfPK ■ The true clear heart whose corf jg manlaiB1" Fears not that very death may tnrntodw ..„ Lovo lit therein as toward a brother wrfc it If ono touch make not all its dnegoldros*-- ■ If one breath blight not a}' ,j£ gTadnpepo 01 m And all its flro turned to; jxe of scorn., , Scorn only, soorn begot of bitter proof ' S-. By keen experience oi i r trn _tle_- hart /,_* ~ Bears burning la hie* r ,£w-born handtMJg Wherewith love dicahr Stricken, and4ei» Falls of his palace,, an*. . the storied woof w y, Long wovea of ma»' y a ye ar with liies *■" Ia rent like any* Mt ten weed apart, i And hardly withirel _ o tant eyos aloof „„j.B Cold memorj; gaarf" v one relio scarce ewjnp. Xet from the lercf , coiroaion of contetn^ f And hardly savf ,i b y nltr. Woe are wo ; That onoe v&lov e dM_venot;bntwekii»» The ghost of low , living y«t in*l?', ffll it wEere soonx I __ S, jf Yum aagrfef f» be. ~•■;. h'h;*-.

0 sacred,, usi inevitable seorD,.'V t Ijjj ■ wfth^' d°' rtehtetras Jo^men '* v Theront!^ ifl boars M d wins not yet* Seeing otto iri^nsl^freawrtontl»rn- ; M&&__' One doit ot 0 treasure? not g"B Not one „i,7doitof all J not one dean ie« Of aUtts/ / f^d left behind a thornt .ft , Is man » ostonWt one should sMroW^ 18-Hf • s GodTnot made of mortOiooO^l v_Sj »ove should turn in himit«Wff BgSr» la mt the true is not the raise i^ I*7 o c^tlove minltr^^SSix* " atelseltwe^islqvenomorftMt^r —-ol /A.O.Swin>nirne,tntke Atnom»« „, s^rindß-iitr-et. *At:;hlß"'teener^

STAR SATURDAY SUPPEMENT, MARCH 24, 1883.