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TIS LABOR SAVED TO WEAR TAN SHOES. The blacker your shoes the \Li more dust they will show. j) yj- shoes save time, labor /SjUjj ,\y? \ and money, and still look yJy (I. / Oui stock c.tnnot be I j iVf cxce U e d in price, quali- I J / 01 style. I ,/ See the handsome styles in V, nc vesting tops. We are offering some great Q / """* bargains in tan and black A FEW OF OUR BARGAINS. Men's fine black vici Kid shoes $1.05 Ladies' fine patent leather sandals 5 1 c Men's fine rus c .ett vici Kid shoes 1.05 1 I.adies' fine serge ilippers 25c Ladies' line nissett shoes l.co . Children's fine slippers 25c Ladies' fine Dotigola shoes 1.00 Boys' fine dress shoes 7£> c and many other bargains. Full stock of sole leather and shoemakers supplies of all kinds. High iron, stands with four lasts each (>' 45c Repairing promptly done. Mail orders receive prompt attention. JOHN BICKEL. BUTLER, PA. j HE IS A WISE HAN \ 2 —WHO SIXUKKS IIIS cix>Tiiix<; i IJOM- # } J. S. YOUNG, | F Tin: UK lit' H ANT TAILOR, £ 5 | The style, fit an<l general make d i up of his suits J | TELL their own STOF(Y. S Spring STYLES tNjTtjL) /*S\ Three ef ani id for Hpi inj:. twoof a kind for • c/ MP Sutnnoer-v l»ar better I tnd would :i man want vUjfv I in rlothlmr. They nr«'nil ot • kind IN >'TVI I. k if —J> A /d r* l\ /' "vS/w i n durability the staunches!., in price n.o» f\j r,\ / J r fC\ // 1\ moderate. Vviit r» • "Ne <•: i you jret such coi i (?) iS* A IBS# /Jf m Wnatlon-». Vou do get them of G. I\ KE< 'K. tin ! / J \fl |\ ICy («J M tailor. We have ;i large assortment of spiim; w/ 1 oTi r ITI 'or ttrst-el:iss SUIT call and examine our large \ "7? l/lV \ ]C7 w3 S I goods, remember the place, v;i |M? mi G. F. KECK, $ ' '1 11 11-L ® CHANT rAIL,IR - 142 North C P "4. Main St, Butler. Pa. 3285. MAIN ST- 328 S. MAIN ST' MILLINERY Most complete stock, finest goods, newest styles anil lowest prices in Millinery, Notions pnd perfuines- THE H. H. CORSET A SPECIALTY. SEE OUR NEW SPRING HATS Mary Rockenstein. Papc sros, JEMEb6RS. We Will Save You Money On (Diamonds. Watches ; Siiverware, 1847 Rodger Bros. I S Plateware and Sterling Silver^ (Goods. ( Our Repair Department takes in all kinds of Watches, Clocks and Jewelry, etc 122 S. Main St. Old gold and silver taken the same as cash. House Cleaning Time is here and tlie War JK a ' Bugs, Motlis etc.. is on. We have prepared a Cu' Killer for the extermination of these pests, let us suggest that if this be mixed with the paste before papering the result will be vt r\ satisfactory. We are also headquarters for Moth Balls, Insect powder, Hellibore etc. RE DICK & G ROHM A.N ~.-Z --10n NORTH MAIN ST. BUTLER. Subscribe lor tiie CITIZEN. THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Liver Ills Like biliousness, dyspepsia, headache, coi.:U pation, sour btuUii.'. cured oy Uood's Pills. They do Ihcir -vork Hood's tasih and thorn : .-lily. " I I _ Best iftcr dinner pills. * a | ** 15cents. All drusi?ists. ■ ■■ ■ Prepared by C. I. Hood & Co.. Lowell, Mass. .bn p u. Pill to take with Kood'* Si«"uiarilla. riitmnnun i»r" Tryinp It. In order to prove the great merit of Ely's Cruaui Balm, th<? most effective cur" for Catarrh and Cold in Head, we have pre pared a gm I m trial Itoe for 10 cents. Get it of your druggist or send 10 cents to ELY BliOS., . r >G Warren St., N. Y. City I suffers' from cntarrh of the worst kind ever since a boy. and I ne\er boptd for cure, but Ely's Cream Balm seems to do even tli:it. Many aeqoaintanet s La" n*ed it with excellent results. —i)scar Ostruuj, 15 Warreu A\e., Chicago, 111. Ely's Cream Babu is the acknowl. dged cure "for catarrh and coutuins no cocaine, mercury nf»r any inji.iijns drug. Tr. *e, 60 cent's. At druggists or by mail. VICTORV A'u avs crowns our efforts to secure the hanlsomtsl and most correct thing in 'Men's Dress at all season's of the year. There's a fresh, bright sparkle of style about our spring patterns, the kind that has snap and art in it. We cater to the economical man because our cloth< s give a dollar of service for every dollar paid. Let us show you the kind of a suit we make for $25. ALAND, MAKER OF MEN'S LOTHES Pearson B. Nace's Live-y Feed end Sale Stp'jle Re; r of Wick House, Butier, Penn'a. Th<-i t>t of hors« v : ?i<! first cla- rips al ways on hami ami for hire. B< »t .'i common hit ions in t-.vn for perma nent boarding and transient trade. Speci al care guaranteed. Stable Room For 65 Horses. A %r>.< id . ,a» of lorst s, both drivers and draft l»cr s Jil;vay> on hand t-nl for salt uno* r a fti-l pji.sranleo; and h > ses bought upon proper notification i»y PEARSON B. MACE, TeU'plione, No. 2l'.t. L.C. WICK, DRALER IN Rough t Worked Lumber OK AI,I. KINDS. Doors, Sash, Blinds, Mouldings, Shingles and Lath Always in Stock. LIME. HUR AND I'USTE k Office opposite P. & W. Depot. BUTLER. PA. < D. L. CLEELAND, 1> < Jeweler and Optician, £ < 125 S. Main St., 3 Butler, Pa. C. SELIGMAN & SON TAILORS^ No. 416 W. Jefferson St., Butler, Pa. A line of latest Foreign and Domestic Suitings always in st«x*k. I'it. Stylo and Work manship guaranteed to give satisfaction. PRICES REASONABLE. gnui is THE TiftiE TO HAVE IfUff Your Clotliir\^ CLEANED or DYED If you want good and reliable cleaning or dyeing done, there is just one place In town where you can get it, ar.d that is at IHf BITLfR DTt PUS 21i> (Jenter a, venue, B@»We do fine work in out door Photographs. This is the time of year to have a picture ol your house. Give us a trial. Agent for the Jamestown Siidintr Blind Co.—New York. R. FISHER &^ON,_ OH MEAL ,orßOLl> NwV«y'chcup. Feed for Iforse>. rows. Sheep. lings, Fowl-, etc. Health, strength and productive power to animals. Are you feeding it? Cheapest feed in the market. I ftl! ANDWIIITK LEAD UNOCtU VU- Bait years on house, bain or fence. Mixed paints art.' doubtful quality: some g<x>d and some very bad. Write for our circular. For pure Linseed oil or meal, and white lead. a<k for •'Thompson'**." or address manufacturer. THOMPSON &!>., 15 W Diamond street Allegheny. Pa. GOOD FAPM FOR BA LK file I-'oiil i"aim iu J_)ouc_ai iwr.., near 1 M llerstowu is o' sale II c<".itai:s about 150 acres, is \>*_il waLert c and :u good condition For terms inquire a his office BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE i>, IH9B A Wicked Won?at}» CHAPTKR Xf A Wicked Woman Poor &» poverty once more, Lesley faced her own dreary future. Mrs. Greyuon could offer no consolation, and her motherly h?au ached for the lone ly girl whose life was desolated and ru ined. As soon as the sad news was made public, Maude Uradburn drove over to Chadwicke Hall "You must come home with me, Lesley!" she cried, winding her arms about her frieud. "Come at once, and mamma will be delighted; they sent me over to bring you, thinking I might succeed, where, perhaps, they would fail. But I know you will come, darling. You will have peace and qui et at the Cedars, and there you can watch the maneuvers of that wretched Mrs. Chadwicke. One thing is certain, no lady Is going to visit her. She is socially ostracised here and might as well be dead. Don't refuse to come, Lesley," Maude added, with a loving kiss, "and Mrs. Greyson shall come, too." So it was finally decided that Lesley should go to the Cedars until some thing definite could be decided for her future, and Mrs. Greyson accompanied her, while Lawyer Greyson and the doctor took up their quarters for a few days, at the village hotel. At the Cedars, Lesley found quiet, and all that her kind friends could do to alleviate her sorrow was done, deli cately and tenderly. But Lesley's heart was wrung with bitter anguish, which no trouble could assuage. Where was John Ardsley in all her trouble? Where was he in her hour of darkness, who should have been at her side to comfort and cherish? Her heart sank In shamu and suffering, and bitter humiliation, and from the bot tom of her heart the poor girl longed most earnestly to die. To be done for ever with this life's sorrow, and dis appointment; aud lie down somewhere out of sight, away from the pitiless ayes o? a cold, unsympathetic world, and pass away to the life beyond. But she was young and strong, and with the young life is tenacious. One evening, in her boudoir at Chad wicke Hall, which she had had fitted up for herself all in blueandsilver,Lurline lounged idly in a satin chair, attired in a delicate lavender silk, with black lace trimmings; for already she lightening her mourning and wearing colors which served to enhance her delicate beauty. Her long golden hair was all over her shoulders, in a shin ing cloud; one slippered foot, dainty as a fairy's, was resting on the silver fen der, for It was autumn now, and the evenings were beginning to get chilly. Her head rested upon one rosy palm, and a smile strayed over her rosy lips. Evidently she was quite satisfied with her surroundings. "Ah!" she exclaimed, glancing around the luxurious apartment, "this is happiness once more. To be able to control all this wealth and grandeur now, vvheu, only a few months ago I was turned from the door, to starve or beg, as best suited my convenience. What a change from my life a few weeks since, when I lived in those stuffy rooms at that execrable hotel, and dined on tough beef and venerable fowls every day Ah, what a grand inspiration was that little move of mine, by which I cry, 'Checkmate!' In tha great game of life," she went on, meditatively, "a woman, a clever, de signing woman—above all else, a beau tiful woman—always wins. There is no question of failure; and men with all their vaunted wisdom and strength, the 'sterner sex,' ha! ha! are as blind as bats or moles. Only when they fall in the game, they are sure to lay the blame upon some woman, if possible. Heaven help the woman who may be responsible in such a case; and if not responsible. Heaven help her just the same, for she is sure to get the oppro bium. However, there is no failure for me. Ah, what a glorious thing is money!" She did not hear the faint tap which sounded upon the door of her boudoir. One light alone burned in the center of the room; she arose to brighten it. As she did so the door swung slowly open; she turned to confront the in truder. A man stood on the threshold; a man with a pallid, indignant face, and eyes fairly blazing with desperate, angry light. It was Morris Dudley. For an instant they stood there, fac ing each other. Pallid and wild eyed, she looked like some wild creaturesud denly brought to bay. He sprang for ward and caught her white wrist, glit tering with bracelets of diamonds set in jet, by which she compromised her inordinate love of jewels and an out ward semblance of mourning, he clutched her wrist firmly and turned his burning eyes upon her own. "Answer me," he hissed, in wrathful, vengeful tones. "Lurline St. Cyr, where is my wife? What have you done with Viva Dudley?" She laughed a low, sneering laugh; but underneath it all you could see how she trembled. "Woman, where ia |my wife?" repeated Morris Dudley, sternly. "I have suspected your iden tity from the first, but I know you now, Mrs. Barton Chadwicke, formerly Lurline St. Cyr, the cafe singer, the trapeze performer, outcast from pure [ and refined society. Oh, inscrutable Providence! through what vile necro mancy came you to this elevated posi tion? You. who in years gone by lured that unsuspecting, innocent girl to her own ruin! You, who tempted her with glittering promises until she turned her back upon her humble home, which at least was pure, and went to Join you in your foolish antics on the stage. My poor, simple-hearted Viva, who saw not the poison in your honeyed words, and the falsehood of j the bright pictures which you painted j i)t hor future, and the wealth and fame one day to be hers. Once more I de mand of you, madam —what have you done with Viva Dudley—my lost wife? Answer me, and truthfully, or as there is a God of Justice, I will take your miserable life." She cowered before his burning gaze; and all the time her breath wa» coming in fitful gasps. •j—know nothing of her, your Viva," she returned, sullenly. "She went to her own destruction—yes—but willingly—with her eyes open. If you think a woman can be led against her own will or desire into evil, you are greatly mistaken, monsieur." The tone and the accent which 1q that moment of excitement oame back to her from tliu mnished past, revealed Cuiti this woman was of French origin. And yet, she claimed descent from the Chadwickes, through both parents, and not one drop of French blood had ever coursed through a Chadwieke's veins. Morris Dudley released hi« hold up on the woman's wrist and s'ood a statue before her; in Ills dark, p;.- thetic eyes the shadow of the great sorrow which had darkened and laid waste his whole existence. "To have life killed in one, for a woman's sake!" he muttered, savagely, ignoring the presence of Lurllne. She spoke at last. "Listen, Morris Dudley!" she cried, coldly. "Your Viva is dead. I sa\s some one who told me that he came across her In Paris, at the morgue—" Maddened, dospora'.e. not knowing what he did, the man sprang forward and gripped her white throat in his strong fingers He forgot that she was a woman, and that the act was brutal; he only remembered that was she who had wrought the ruin of the one that he had loved — hi 3 little tender, in nocent flower —his wife. That she had fastened herself upon Viva Dud lev's life as the wasp fastens jpon Its quivering victim and Irains Its life blood, drop by drop; that to Lurllne Chadwicke h« was indebted for all the j.gony and desolation of his life; hi* £i«hunored hearth, his deserted home, ail thi- mis ery which for years he had endured unsuspected by the world. And he could have killed her as she stood there before him, and felt that he did no murder in removing from the world this pretty, painted snake who lay in wait to sting unsuspecting innocence. She reeled unsteadily in the grasp of his strong hands, and then he recol lected her sex, and that she was weak, and he released his hold upon her. "One cSnnot kill such as you," he cried, "because you are women. Though you slay innocence and murder purity in the hearts of others of your sex, because you are women, men can not strangle the lives from your bod ies! It is better to leave you In the hands of God. The day of retribution will surely come, and you cannot es cape it." He turned away and left the room and the house. Mrs. Chadwicke sank into a seat, pallid and gasping. After a time the old light came back to her beautiful eyes, and the color to her delicate cheeks. She poured out a wineglassful of brandy, and drank it every drop. "Hn! ha!" she laughed, derisively, "you think to intimidate me. Morris Dudley! I'll be even with you yet, if it costs me my life!" CHAPTER XII. Not False. Dr. Dudley went over to the Cedars early the next morning. He felt that he held in his hands a clue which might lead ultimately to the detection of what he firmly believed to be a gigantic fraud, and he could not rest until he had conveyed his impressions to the Greysons. Maude Bradburne met him in the hall, in a becoming suit of white cash mere and scarlet ribbons. Pretty, pi quant, warm-hearted Maude! She went straight up to the young physician and laid her little hand in his. "I am glad that you have come, Dr. Dudley." she said in her frank, straightforward manner, "for I am so distressed about Lesley. She scarcely eats or sleeps, and hor strength Is fast leaving her. Ido believe that if some thing is not done to arouso her do spondent spirits and give her hope fcr the future that the poor girl will. die. And, doctor, she is one of the best girls in the world. I think my heart would break if anything serious should befall Lesley." Maude was true blue, and Dr. Dudley knew it. But he could not unfold to her the turned-down page in his own history. So he sought Mrs. Greyson and told her his own sad history. How, years before, when he had been a stu dent in Germany, he had met and loved a young French girl—Viva Dud ley. It was a romantic affair. Dud ley, not yet graduated from the medical college, was poor as poverty; and the girl was au orphan, living with an aunt, who treated her with cruel harsh ness. The sequel Is plain. Dudley married the girl and took her to his humble home, and then went back to finish his collegiate course, confident that armed with his diploma as a phy sician he would be able to hew his way through the difficulties in life. Left alone, necessarily a great deal of the time, Viva made the acquaintance of a woman who seemed to her unsophisti cated fancy a very angel of light and beauty. Her name was Lurline St. Cyr, and she was a fourth-rate actress, singer, trapeze performor. It was not long before she obtained complete as cendancy over Viva's foolish mind. She imprintsd upon her imagination the vivid scenes of her own gay life. She made the girl-wife believe that she herself had power to become a great actress. She never rested, just through sheer love of destruction, until she had won the girl from her allegiance to her husband and finally from her home. With his medical diploma at last in his hands, Morris I>::dley sought the little white cottage where he had left his childish wife. All was the same. The tall white lilies nodded their fra grant heads at tl.- doorway; the pur ple morning glories peered in at the lattice; but Viva Dudley hud fled — gone to her own ruin; and his home was empty, deserted, dishonored. Can you wonder that when he stood face to face with the woman who was respon sible for this worse than muider, and looked upon her. in all her bold beau ty, enjoying the prestige of wealth, and an honorable name, that Morris Dud ley said in his heart, "There is no God!" He told his sad story now to Mrs. Greyson; told it in a few words, and the kindly old lady grew grave and sad. When he had finished she wrung his hand. "I thank you for your con fidence, Dr. Dudley," she said, slowly, "and what you tell me fills me with alarm, and yet—would you believe it — I have a little hope. I begin to be lieve that there is a conspiracy afoot, and perhaps we may yet be able to get at the bottom of the mystery. Heaven grant it." "Amen!" responded the doctor, fer vently. Then after a pause, he added: "1 am going to find your husband, Mrs. Greyson, and confide the situation to him. His superior knowledge and experience may suggest some mode of procedure. Try and keep that poor girl as cheerful as possible, and In the meantime I think we must soon learn smoething of Ardley's whereabouts. I have set a detective on his track. He must be a contemptible villain to de sert that poor child in her hour of sor row." "1 do not believe that he has de serted her," returned Mrs. Greyson gravely, "and if I am not mistaken we will yet unearth a tembl* mystery and find that he has been toully dealt with." At that very moment, Lesley—alone in the pretty sitting-room assigned her—chanced to raise Uer eyes aad ifw Standing before her—Mai Ruth ?en- She arose, and moved wwaf<} tftf door, without a word. lie followto her. 'Sit down, Mrs Ardsley," he said in a tone of the deepest respect, add ad dressing her by h<ar new name, as a matter of course. "I would not have intruded upon you—believe me—but I Eiave something of importance to tfom municate!" She started, and the faint color surged into her pallid face. He went on slowly, transfixing her with his dark, scintlllatice eyes. "Yes. It is very important—gravely so; and you must prepare yourself for a fearful shock. Mrs. Ardsley "He hesitated. Lesley sprang forward, her form quivering with intense emotion, her eyes shining, her breath short and quick. She could scarcely speak, so great was her emotion. "Tell me!" she panted; "for Heav en's sake, tell me, Mr Ruthven —Is — ia It anything about himV He bowed, with a grave look upon bis dark face. "John Ardsley has been heard from," he said slowly; "his whereabouts has been discovered at last. ""Thank Heaven!" The words burst like a wall from Lesley's white lips. "Oh, thank Heav en!" she repeated, wildly, "even though he is false to me! Better false to me than that he is dead, or per chance suffering! Tell me—tell me all, I implore you!" Max Ruthven stood amazed. Never before In all his sordid, selfish life had he encountered love like this, self abnegating. caring for naught save the welfare of the loved one. Black hearted villain as he was he paused, overcome, in the presence of this girl s unselfish devotion. "He is not false to you!" Ruthven eaid, in a low tone; "not false to you— for—he is dead! Listen, Lesley! Do not look like that. Do you hear what lam saying? He was drowned in the river, not far from the spot where he saved you—where your horse ran away ■with you that day—you remember? — and —and his body was washed ashore thl3 morning!" CHAPTER XIII Viva. When Dr. Dudley returned to the ho tel he found awaiting him a sealed let ter, addressed In a strange hand. He opened it mechanically; but as he read the contents all the color faded from h!s face, leaving it white as marble. "Oh, Father in Heaven!" he groan ed, reeling as though he had been struck and clutching the fatal letter in one cold hand. "If I might have been spared this!" he moaned. "Can it be true?" Again lie read tha letter, which ran ns follows: "Morris Dudley: When I told you thai your Viva was dea l I told you that which is false. She is not dead; and If you •will visit No. 211 Hue de Villere, Paris, you will find your innocent darling.' your 'pure little flower' (was not that what you called her, mon sieur); living in gilded sin! When you do see her, I Imagine you will con clude that the morgue would have been R better fate. Ah, Morris Dudley, I think lam even with you now. Before you insult a woman it would be better to pause, and ask —'will it pay?' Lurllne Chadwicke." For a time the stricken man stood like a statue, bereft of life and motion; then a low groan escaped his pale lips find sinking into a seat, he bowed his head upon a table near and gave way to the awful sorrow which had fallen npon him like a sudden blow. For he had believed, he had hoped, that she •was dead; better death than a life of sin. He had thought that Viva could not be living, and Lurline's reply to his question had confirmed his belief. Still, might there not be a faint hope of her reformation —if he could only find her, and strive to lead her back to the paths of rectitude; not his wife —no, never again, for the Dudleys were a proud race, and Morris would not blot his own fair name. But—might he not save this erring woman from eternul ruin? There was but one step to take, and it was the very step which Lurline Chadwicke had not counted upon—had been certain that he never, never would take. He decided to go at once to Paris, and prove the truth of this vile assertion. Lurline had be lieved that he would sooner die than face his wife. She would have been full of consternation had she known the truth; that in his room at the vil lage hotel Morris Dudley was prepar ing for a hasty trip to Paris. He had taken Lawyer Greyson into his confl uence, and the old man approved of his course; so one cool, crisp autumn morning Morris Dudley stepped on board the vessel which was to bear him over the ocean, to look upon the sin and degradation of the woman who had once been dearer to him than life itself. The voyage was not a protracted one, and at last he landed at Havre, and started at once for Paris —gay, giddy, glittering Paris, given over to the frivolous reign of the monarch Misrule. Arrived there, he left his luggage at his hotel, and started without delay for the place Indicated in that cruel let ter—No. 211 Rue de Villere. He found a small, common-looking house, not at all the palaca which he had pic turey, and ascending the steps rang I the bell. A neat little maid servant answered the summons. Dudley was at the plain, almost poor in tOTier which met hia view, and in wondering surprise managed to stam mer forth a request to see the lady of the house. He was admitted to the plain little hallway and waited a few moments. At length the swish of sweeping garments upon the bare floor announced the ap proach of a lady. His heart Slew into his throat, he pressed his hand to hia brow, and raising his eyes, he saw be fore him a tall, graceful woman, her golden hair coiled low ut the back of her head, and a pair of serious blue eyes regarding him attentively. A lady; no mistake; and Morris Dudley paused before her, with an inward con viction that he had been mistaken, or ■was the victim of a wicked plot. He bowed oourtoously as she paused. "I think there is some mistake!" he began, "but I was directed to this house. You are English, madam!" Something in his tone assured her that he was no lmpestor; she bowed in the affirmative. "My husband is Rolande, the Eng lish artist!" she returned in a low mu sical voice; "we have lived in this house for the past eight years. Whom did you wish to see, sir?" "I—there is surely some mistake," returned the discoiuiitted man; "my m.-ie is i>udley," be laid one of his b.. aess cards in the lady r. hand, "and i was directed to 211 Kue de Villere, to find a lady of the same name." "This Is certainly 211," returned Mrs. Kolande, meditatively, "ajjd no lady of that has resided nt thi* block sleep I have !iveif here, not to my knowledge, and I think 1 should have known It, for we are all artists in this vicinity, and all are eousequeatlr friends and associates.' Dr. Dudley managed to make his ex- It in a dignified manner, but there was In his heart a strange conviction of something wrong. Either Lurllne had duped htm or he had lost Viva again and forever. He turned next to 21 on the same street, with a wild idea that there might have been a mistake In thr number; but a large restauiant bore the number which he nought, and at last he gave up in despair and began to believe th.it he had been deceived by a wicked, designing woman. He sought In vain for u trace of the miss ing Viva. In all imaginable places which such as she might frequent he sought early and late, but all in vain, and at last tired and discouraged he decided to retura to America; first leaving a description of Viva in the hauils of the police. One night, just at dark, he was wan dering down a lonely street, ha'.f light ed and nearly deserted. Suddenly h« perceived just before him a woman poorly clad and carrying a huge bun dle in her arms. She paused directly in front of him, and the sickly glare of a neighboring street lamp fell athwart her uncovered features. With a wild cry he bounded forward and met her face to face. "Merciful Father!" he cried. "Viva!" With a low moan, the woman totter ed a few steps, and then, throwing her arms up wildly, she fell on the pave ment, right at his feet. CHAPTER XIV. Only a Card. "Lesley! Lesley' Oh, don't look at me in such a wild, despairing way! weep and mourn, upbraid me as the cause of all your bitter sorrow, and anything, only do not stand there in such silent, frozen horror and despair. Lesley! Lesley! Oh, Heaven, I have killed her!" The wild words dropped from Mas Ruthven's ashen lips. White and still, dazed, bewildered by the awful shock, the suddenness of the fearful blow, Lesley stood, half comprehending his meaning. To her there was but one word now; it caught and held within Its relentless grasp all the hopes and joys, and possibilities of happiness in her life—that one cruel, bitter word— dead! Max Ruthven caught her cold, white j hands, and pressed his lips upon them | unrebuked, for she knew not what he did. He was scarcely conscious of his own actions. All that waa best and truest in this man's nature was stirred by this sight of this wordless grief, this dumb despair. In that hour the evil In Ma\ Ruthven's heart died a sudden death, and bitter remorse took poisession of him. All the iniquity of vhich the man had been guilty slunk away out of alght now in the presence of the one pure love of his whole god less life. Frightened at Lesley's stony calm and tearless agony he sprang to the hellrope and rang a wild peal, which brought Mrs. Grevson and Maude in terrified haste to the apartment. A few words from Ruthven sufficed to explain the situation. "Oh, my poor darling!" cried Maude, throwing her arms about Lesley's neck and drawing her head down upon her ehouider. "Cry, do try to cry, Lesley. Oh, Mrs. Greyson, what can we do to break this unnatural calm? It will till her." "Speak to her of him—of Mr. Ards ley" suggested Mrs. Greyson. "Lesley, dear," she added, taking the girl's cold hand in her own, "he is dead. John, he whom you loved so dearly, your own husband, Is dead, Lesley." "Dead!" Lesley repeated the word in a bewil dered tone; her eyes stared vacantly before her; but nothing seemed to have s>ower to unlock the floodgates and let the wild tears burst forth. | "Let me muke a suggestion, if you please, Mrs. Greyson," ventured Max, at last. "Suppose the—the body is brought here into her presence? The 6ight of it might have the desired ef fect lam afraid that she will lose her reason. See how vacantly she staree!" Maude flew from the room to break the sad news to her parents. A conveyance was dispatched at once to bring the body; and later in the day the solemn little procession wound slowly up the long avenue which led to the Cedars. The body was fearfully mutilated, the face swollen and discolored, but the hair and mustache were of the same hue as John Ardsley'e and the gar ments were identified as those of the missing man; even a ring—a peculiar ring, which all present recognized as having belonged to John Ardsley—was found upon one swollen hand of the corpse. But no papers were discovered upon the body; nothing, save a satiny card —a lady's visiting card —and on the back a line penciled in a delicate hand. The detective who had been upon John Ardsley's track, and who had been the one to first discover the body, took this card from the hand of the coroner, with a grave expression upon his shrewd face, and he kept his own counsel. There were no marks of violence up on the body, and the inquest resulted in a verdict of accidental drowning. He had doubtless fallen over the steep, precipitous bank, into the foaming tor rent below; though there were those who shook their heads dubiously at this theory, for no one knew that road and the steep bank just at its curve better than the late steward of the Chadwicke estate. The body was buried at once, tn the family burial place of the Bradburna, and a plain monument erected; for Lesley was too poor now to afford a more costly structure, and silence fell over the whole sad affair. It was the night after the funeral, a dark, gloomy night. Lesley had at last found relief in tears, and had sobbed, and wept, and moaned until ahe was weak and worn. She went to the window of her room, and pushing aside the curtain peered out into the night. It was dark and dreary enough. The wind stirred the bare branches of the trees uneasily, anil few drops of rain were beginning to fall, herald ins the coming storm. At last Lesley turned and caught up her waterproof, and putting It on, drew the hood over hor bead; then, unobserved by any one In the house, she glided downstairs, out into the starless night. She turn ed in the direction of the burying ground with a wild desire to s-tnnd be slue lik grave, a frenzied impulse ?o herself down beside it and rob Lerst-U to sleep The wind was raging wildly aad tar ing through the trees with an eerie wail; the rain, fine and sleety, fell fast now upon her head; but Lesley felt ttythjng. kftew Lothipg i&jit '.vu going to John Ardsley's grave. slit r«.-ai ~tii tt.o spot at last. Dark, : uJ gloomy, and -tormy as the night AUi. the girl felt 110 terror. She paus ed beside llie low. slim mound, with the ted clod piled high above It. and ~.1..« upon her knees upon the cold ground. Suddt-niy she lifted her eyes and a v. .id shriek burst from her trembling lips. There her peering at her, by the dim light made by a rift In the daiiw clouds übove was the dead white fate uf John Ar da ley. |T« "B COXTIXIBD.J lIOW HE WON HER The proudest sometimes unbend, ai d tfic Botanical GarJoiis were, for one afternoon, throwing off their usual reserve. Ordinary folk hai only to come across Regent's Park from Ches ter Gate and present a card at the en trance to the gardens, and the bowler hatted old gentleman at the gate wel comed them aa though they were most important members. Miss Llewellyn and Master Kenneth Waller, her friend, walked on the grass in the di rection of the mufric. The scarlet-coatud band, perched on scats near the gl&s* house, with a crowd of smartly dressed folk In front of them, started a cheerful selection from a comic opera. Miss Llewellyn, a composed young woman in an ordin ary way, as young women are who work for a living, found herself in quite a delightful mood. Music can do much when it tries. 'Are those oichids they are carrying there?" asked Kenneth. "Hasn't that chap got a brown face who's telling the men where to take them? Seem to have seen him somewhere before. Shouldn't like to be an orchid, would you. Miss Llewellyn? Hullo! Brown faced chap's coming this way." Miaii Lleyeliwyn looked up and then looked down again quickly, and for a moment her face went rather white. Her hand trembled as she held it out. "Mi. Bradley," she said. "How do you do? I did not expect to see you here." "I did not expect to see you again anywhere," he said. "This is my little friend. Kenneth Waller," she said. "Kenneth, this is Mr. Bradley." "What's the matter with your face?" asked ihe small boy. "Have you been abroad?" Mr. Bradley placod a broad fist on ihe round iron table and leaned down toward Mabter Waller good-naturedly. He seemed as confused at the meeting as Miss Llewellyn, and as unprepared with conversation. "I have been abroad, young man. I've teen hunting orchids." "Are you home for good now?" ask ed Kenneth. Miss Llewellyn gripped the parasol that rested in her lap with both hands. "I can't do any good at home," said Mr. Bradley. "I am oft' again to South America in a day or two." "Why don't you stay in London?" "Nobody asks me to stay." Master Waller next invited Mr. Bradley to take his chair. "Yf>'i dor't mind?" asked Bradley of Mia* Llewellyn. "Not at all," she said politely. "May I smoke?" "Let me strike the match." inter posed Master Waller "I'm awfully good at that. And tell us some of your adventures." 'They wouldn't Interest Miss Llew ellyn" "Girls don't count," said Master Waller. "Tell me. Make it," said Si&&ter Waller, appealingly, "one where you nearly lost your life." So ten or fifteen minutes were thus occupied, the email boy seated on Bradley's knee and staring at him with cpen-moutb astonishment. Miss Llew ellyn, her head bowed, studied the bfthll programme. Bradley told the stoyy very well, without obtruding his owh share in the adventure, and when he had finished punched the small boy huiaoruely to bring him back from &6hth America to Regent's Park. A And is that story true?" asked the small boy, respectfully. "It has that drawback, youngster." "Well," said Master Waller, "I'm a man that's awfully fond of adventure, but I shouldn't care for that. What did you think of when that fierce ani mal was waiting to spring upon you?" "Guess." ' "Can't," said Master Waller. "Can you, Miss Llewellyn?" She shook her head, and again be came Interested in the band program me. Bradley looked at her and waited for her to speak, but she made no sign. "Is there any chance of seeing these orchids, Mr. Bradley?" asked the youth. "It'll be something to brag about to my people If I could just get a sight of them." ' We'll all go over to the marquee and have a look. Miss Llewellyn, will you come, or shall we leave you here? There's rather a crueh." "Let'e leave her," suggested Master Waller. "Miss Llewellyn likes being alone." "I think I will stay here," she saJd. "We shall be back in ten minuter" said Bradley. Master Waller had to trot to keep up with the long strides of his new friend, but he did not mind this, be cause he felt a kind of reflected glory in being accompanied by the man who had brought home ®ome of the rarest of the aruaeing specimens in the crowded tent. "Girls are a nuisance, aren't they?" | sold Master Waller, looking up con fidentially. "Sometimes," said Bradley. "She isn't so tiresome, though, as 1 Some." ' "I thick I agree with you there." i "Works awfully hard. Too hard, my ; masnnu says." j "No necessity for that, surely," said Br&dley, rather sharply. I "But Miss Llewellyn has to live," urged the small boy. "My mamma «aye that she was well off for a year or two before her father died, but since that —" "Her father dead?" "Here, I say," said Master Waller. 'Don t grip a man's shoulder like that." "Sorry!" ' "They come into njonev, so my mam ma MJ •«, only some few years ago— "I remember that." "And then Mis» Llewellyn's gover nor put all Into something, and It ' never came out again. That's why she hojs to manage the calisthenic school that I go to. And I say! Can you touch your toes with the tips of your fingers without —" • V'Uc-e doe* shi live now?" Mr. B: iVy Mcerced esc!ted. "j: nwirs." replied Master Waller, vo'.ub!.. ' Ive been there to tea along with my sisters. (That's a fine orchid I there. You can't see it now; a girl's hat's in the way.) And Miss Llew- ' rsio. ellyn's got awfully nice furniture and photographs, aud —" Master Waller siupptd his knee suddenly. "I remem ber now where I've seen yoar face be fore. Mr. llradioy. only without tbe short beard.'' "Come outside," said Bradley, "and tell me." They made their way through the crowd and reached the exit. Bradley held his breath, ami bent to hear the the small boy's reply. "On lier dressing table," whispered Master Waller, confidentally, "in the beautifullest frame you ever saw, and —Where are you going?" "Bark to Miss Llewellyn," cried Bradley. ' Weil, but," said Master Waller, protestiiigly, 'wait for me." Bradley aid not obey the young man. He strode across the lawn, past the j band, which was playing a quick march that was not quick enough to j keep pace with him. Before Master Waller found the two there had beeu a i ewitt exchange of low sentences that | altered their views of the world, and ! made them both think of it as a place where happiness is to be found. I "And why did you refuse me before, I dear?" | "Because all my people pressed m# j to accept you." said Miss Llewellyn. | "The excuse of a very obstinate j young woman." "Why did you—why did you not uk me again?" she demanded. "Because," said Bradley, "It was Juet i then that your father came into that i money." "The excuse of a very Independent man," said Miss Llewellyn, touching with pretty affection the big hand that rested on the round table. "When— when is it that you leave for South America?" "Not until you tell me to go, dear," he said, promptly. "Here, I say," cried Master Waller, arriving after some difficulty. "Yon two! Don't lose s.ight of me, mind. Miss Llewellyn, have I been a good boy?" "I've a great mind to kiss you, Ken* neth," she said. "Rather have tone more lenomade." "As Kenneth declines your sugges tion," said Bradley, signalling to a waiter, "may 1 venture to submit my self—" "Hush!'' said Miss Llewellyn.—Wo man at Home. Better Off Single Than Married. The woman who proudly declare* that she can not even hem a pocket handkerchief, never made up a bed in her life, and adds with a simper that she's "been in society ever since she was 15," should not marry. And there are others. The woman who would rather nurse i pug dog than a baby. The woman who thinks she can get $6,000 worth of style out of |I,OOO sal ary. The woman who wants to refurnish her house overy spring. The womau who bwys for the mere pleasure of buying. The woman who thinks that men ire angels and demigods. The woman who does not know how many cents, halves, quarters, dime* and nickele there are in a dollar. The woman who would rather die than wear « bonnet two seasons old. The woman whe thinks that the cook and the nurse can keep house. The woman who thinks it is cheap er to buy bread than to make it. The woman who buys bric-a-brac (or the parlor and borrows kitchen utensils from her neighbors. The woman who wants things just because "other women" have them. The woman who thinks that she la an ornament to her sex if she wioa a' progressive euchre prixe. Dog Fired the Gun. "Doc" Davis, a farmer, living three miles from Nicholasville, N. Y., wag loading an old-fashioned muzzle lead ing guff, when it was accidentally dis charged, perhaps fatally wounding_ him. The load tore off three fingers and then penetrated the face and head. The stock of the gun rested on the ground, and it seems that Davis' dog, which sat by ecratchlng himself, struck the hammer with his foot and caused the explosion. A Gigantic Task. Herr Schultze of the Berlin Academy of Sciences, has taken upon himself ihe formidable task of preparing a work describing all animals that exist now or have existed within historical times. The Academy allows him $7,000 to cover the expenses of his undertak ing- A rolrglet Dirt Staoveler. W. S. McClelland, who shovels dirt for the Panhandle Railroad Company for (1.25 a day, speaks eight languages ind holds diplomas from the College 0e France and the University of Ma drid. Bowls for Cnrlons Stamps. Pretty bowls of the popular Dresden »r satiny Belleek are kept on writing leaks or library table to hold the curi ous stamps, monograms or letterheads :lipped from the daily correspondence. Trouble* of the Chinese £mper*r. The Emperor of China is a very highly educated man, and he Is espec ially learned in the maxima of ftxl fueius, on which all Chinese rulee at morals, philosophy and jurtopfHdraxse are based. Ten years ago he under took to study the British language, aud an American missionary was l&VUied to become his teaoher, but be waa warned that he must always bring some one with.hita, for no man is eve* allowed to soe the Son of Heaven a4oae. The Emperor is very skilful with the bow, and of late years he has prac ticed a great deal with the rifle. Like his fellow sovereigns of Europe, the EmperoT hue anything but an easy life of It When Li Hung Chang returned to Pekln after his travels round tha world, the Emperor hear'" him read his report of ail that had occurred to him through one long night. A Queer Sign. Hunters are scouring the woods and fields of Ohio for woodcock, and on every hand signs read. "No hunting allowed on this farm." On one farm near Delphos they have been surprised to find the following posted: "Take Notice—Hunters welcome, and when the bell rings, come to dinner." On his letter heads the owner has the fol lowing. "Cftpt. Ira Stout. Farmer by occupation, dealer in this world's goods only. Having no use for the Bi ble, gods, ghosts or the devil." "Miss Wlggleswerth thinks she's elKib!e to the Ordor of tho Crown Fht's stt- an ir.i-A her !ineage bi> 'A to one of tte English soverasns." Jlow far has she got?" "She toid me yesterday she had struck a bar sinister." "I guess that's right I knew her great grandfather was a bartender."