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CHAPTER lll.—(Continued.) Forget her! As Jack turned into the house, after watching the carriage down the drive, his head and heart were on 6re with the memory of her last linger ing look, and the blood danced in Ills fin gers as ho recalled the warm, clinging pressure of her hand It parting. "I think 1 must lie mad when she Is near me, for somehow 1 always manage to believe in the possibility of her love for me when in her presence," he mut tered. remorsefully. "And, if she did love, what then? Could I throw Ethel over? My sweet, pure little Ethel, It would break her heart! I must get rid of this folly. I'll finish Ethel's letter at once, and send it off by tho morning post. I'll write a long, loving" letter to the poor little girl; it will do me as much good to write it as It will her to receive It." This time he commenced with "My dear Ethel," and then, before proceeding further, he made a close examination of tho beautifully executed address and crest on the paper. The crest of "Mallyngs"—as the name was originally spelled—a tiger's head and front paws in repose, with the motto, "l.et the sleeping lie." particularly in terested him. He had stood for many a minute during the past week in front of one of these emblems of the family rlrcle—fierce, ungovernable—and ponder ed the probable events that had caused It to be bestowed ou them as their badge. "I wonder why she never married?" he mused. "I wonder if mine is the true reason, and there really Is some poor beggar in the background awaiting her twenty-fifth birthday? I shall have a chance of finding out if I accept her in vitation for the partridge shooting in September, for Lord Summers told mo ■he would be twenty-five in that month. Ought I, in justice to Ethel, to place my self in the way of such temptation? Bosh! I must be a weak fool indeed If 1 cannot live In the society of a beautiful woman without making an idiot of my •eif! liesides If I come and see for mys ■elf that she is really 'gone' on some lucky fellow, it will be the most complete cure I could find for my own folly." lint Jack knew this to be false rea soning; nevertheless he would not listen to conscience, and, with a gloomy brow sad tightly compressed lips, sat glaring moodily at the blank sheet of paper be fore trim. "Will you take your luncheon in here, ■Ir? It will seem less lonely thau in the dining room, I think." Jack looked up in surprise at the housekeeper. "I must have been sitting here nearly three hours. I don't mind where 1 lunch, Mrs. Perkins." "Then I'll put it in here, sir; it's brighter and more cheerful than the din ing room." Mrs. Perkins walked to a sideboard ■mi flicked away an imaginary speck of dust. "Wpre you here in Sir Paul's time?" he asked, more because the old lady wanted to talk than from any interest he took iti the matter. "Uless you, sir, I've been a servant in fhi» house for turned fifty years! I began as under housemaid at sixteen, und here I've been ever since; so I'm what you may call an old servant." "Of course you remember Miss Mail ing's mother? She must have been a beautiful woman." "Sometimes she was and sometimes *he wasn't. She was handsome enough naturally; but she had such an awful temper that it quite disfigured her at times. I've known her to sulk about the house for a month at a time because her brother, the late Sir Paul, had re fused her some trifling thing. Wo were quite relieved when she got married, and went away on the Continent with her husband. You see she was many years younger than her brothers. Sir Paul and the present baronet, Sir Geof frey, and was a bit spoiled in conse quence—though there is ail old saying lu the family that a Mailing's daughter Is always a fiend, asking your pardon for the word, sir; so it's lucky Miss Pauline is only a Mailing by adoption." "Then you think she has eccapcd the failing usual to the ladies of the fam ily 7" "I should not like to give an opinion of my mistress' disposition. It would !"■ very bad taste on my part, sir. .\li>s Mailing, during the six years she has been mistress here, has been everything one could desire." "I beg your' pardon," he said, politely. "I did not wish to betray you into dis respect for Miss Mailing. My question was the natural outcome of your remark as to Miss Mailing's being only a Mail ing by adoption." "To be sure, sir; and that takes me back to what I was saying. Miss Paul ine's mother was away on the Continent with her husband directly after they were married, and roamed about for years from one country to another with him; she never came home again, poor dear! She died when Miss Pauline was fifteen years old; and then Sir Paul was ouxious to have the child with him in England, as he had made her his heiress, In consequence of the -other brother, Geoffrey, having married without his consent. But Major l.ufton would not part with his daughter, and refused even to let her come on a visit: so we none of us ever saw Miss Pauline until she came here, a grown woman, to take her pla-'e as mistress of Mallingford." "I suppose you knew her at once lif ter likeness to her mother?" "Strange to say, we didn't, sir! To be Rure she was very ill, for her father had been dead six months before she heard » word about being heiress to this prop erty, and all that time, to keep herself from starving, had been teaching in some Spanish convent. But even as she re covered her looks we watched in vain for something in the voice or the expression of the face that should remind us of her mother. There are the same beautiful hair an.l eyes, and there the likeness enls." "The Wife's Secret, OR A BITTER RECKONING By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEMB "Do you «ay •hs never knew about lier heiress-ship until after her father's death?" "Yes, sir. She says he would not tell her because he was afraid she might be tempted to leave him. I believe they were in dreadful straits sometimes." "It must have been a wonderful change for her when she came here." "It wits indeed, sir—so great that she can never to this day hear to recall that dreadful time, and refuses to talk about it to any one. CHAPTER IV. Ethel Mallet knelt on a chair, her bonny face pressing closely against the window pane. The room being on the second floor, it was only by so doing that she could see the steps that led up to the front door. It was a quarter past eight, and she was watching anxiously, as she had done for several mornings past, for the coming of the postman. She left her position presently, and bustled about, putting little finishing touches to the breakfast table. "It Is hard on poor dear dad to have to put up with petty inconveniences," fclie said, affectionately, as she laid the morning newspaper next the roses, and looked to see if she could do anything further to beautify the unlovely lodging house breakfast table. "I know the sight of a stain on the tablecloth takes away his appetite. With the very next few shillings I make by my copying I'll buy a couple of tablecloths, and then we can have an extra one without asking Mrs. l'hilpott for It and risking black looks for the rest of the week. Oh, here you are, papa! I thought you were going to be late —and it is your Kensington day, too. Ah, there's the postman! I wonder if he has a letter for me? Isn't it strange that Jack has written only once in a whole week?" "Young fellows always find plenty of occupation in the country; you must not worry about it, my child." This remark was rather uncalled for, as Ethel, the whole wpek through, had scrupulously avoided mentioning the subject of Jack's neglect. "The country round Mallingford is particularly attractive, and I can quite understand that Jack is feasting his soul on its beauties." "Oh, papa, do you know Mallingford? You never said so before!" —and Ethel was just about to launch out into a string of questions when her thoughts were diverted by the appearance of the servant with the fish for breakfast, and a letter. "For me, and from Jack!" she ex claimed, breathlessly; but she did not attempt to read it until she had attended to every little want of her father's, and seen him comfortably settled for his morning glance over the leaders in the newspapers. Then she took up the letter and be gan reading it. As she read, the sweet anticipation of pleasure faded slowly from her face, and she laid the epistle down, looking perplexed and troubled. She went on pretending to eat, tilled her father's cup when he pushed it toward her, and resolutely kept silence until he had laid down his newspaper and caught her wistful look. "Well, what are you waiting to say?" he asked. "I don't know; Jack has written a nice, long letter, and yet I am disap pointed. I'm never satisfied; am I, dad? lie tells me here that lie's very lonely, and a line or two lower down he says that Miss Mailing, of whom he gave such a glowing description in his first note, has left for London. I know I'm nar row minded, but I can't help fancying that it's more her absence than mine that makes him lonely. As if 1 did not know Jack to be one <>f the most hon orable men in the world! l'lease call me a few hard names, dad, and make me ashamed of myself." Hut Mr. Mallet did nothing of the sort. "I think it extremely bud taste on Jack's part to 'ill his letters to you with descriptions of another woman's beau ty." "Now, there yon are wrong! It's just that that satisfies me as to Jack's good faith. If there was one scrap of unfair ness to 1110 in his admiration for Miss Mailing he would not write so openly about it. It was only my nonsense about being jealous, you know." "You nre a veritable little bee, suck iisthe honey nnd leaving tlie poison. !'il not say one won! against your hero, my dear. But I don't like to hear of any slight being put upon you. You knmv I don't think him worthy of my Mule girl." "You conceited old dad," Ethel said, with a smile, "to think your girl better than any one else's! Why, Jack is much too good for me! Even you admit lie's clever." "Granted. But who is he? He has a straight nose and a good pair of shoul ders; but what was his grandfather? Have you ever asked him?" "i'apa! What an extraordinary ques tion that would be for me to ask him! I dare say his grandfather was as good a man as mine." "My dear, your grandfather was one of the oldest commoners in England. The Mailings of Mallingford hold themselves among the best people in Exbridgeshire." Ethel looked at her father as if she feared his reason had given way. "I dare say you are very astonished. You have always known me as a hard working drawing master, and of course concluded I had never been anything else. My dear, that Mallingford Park, of which Jack writes so enthusiastically, is mine by nil just laws of succession. But my elder brother, the late owner, cut me oft with n shilling because I annoyed him about a trilling matter, and left the whole property to my niece, your cousin, Pauline Lufton." "And I am eighteen, and this is the first word 1 have ever heard of it!" "Yes. and most likely the last, for it is a subject 1 don't care to talk about. 1 don't think I should have spoken of it now if 1 had not felt extremely annoyed with Jack for his ungentleman-like neg ABERDEEN HEBAJLD, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20 1905 !ect during the past week. You art as well born as this cousin of yours of whom he raves, and I will not allow him to slight you in any way." "Daddy, will you let me manage this, matter myself? You have so surprised me by what you have just said that I am almost bewildered, and can hardly think of anything else. But I am sure that I am too self-conceited to let Jack really slight me. If I thought he want ed me to give him his,freedom I would do it at once. I think it would almost break my heart, but I would do it. I would uot bestow myself where I wa» lightly thought of." "Heaven bless my child! I can trust you to support the family reputation for self-respect; and, Ethel, If you are writing to Jack to-day, don't touch on that subject. I have reasonus for not wishing him to know anything about the matter until 1 tell him myself." Ethel looked disappointed. She hand ed her father his lint and gloves, nnd kissed her hand to him from tl6 window as he turned the corner of the street, and then went back to her letter. She read it through more than once, her face wearing a thoughtful expression. Then Nlie sat down with loosely clasped hands, thinking over the letter even when she had returned It to her pocket. "I am sure of it—he loves this Miss Mailing: l'apa did not call her by that name. I forget now what he called her; but it was, not Mailing. I thought my dislike to parting with Jack was all nonsensical fancy at the time; but I know now it was a re's! forewarning of this sorrow. llu will never come hack just the same as he went, even if ho gets over this fancy for her. Jack— dear old Jack—why—why did you speak of your love for ine until you were quite —quite certain you could never care for any one elseV Oh, Jack, I can't let you go, dear!" With a heart-broken little cry she threw herself upon the cushion. CHAPTER V Babette's anus and back ached almost beyond endurance, yet the brush con tinued to play over Pauline Mailing's hair as it hung In luxuriant profusion down her back. Pauline was deep In thought, fur the Duke of Bcnnoir had just sent her the exquisite bunch of roses she held in her hand, with the lit tle note lying open on the table, and she was making up her mind as to whether she should accept or reject the offer she knew he would make when he called by and by. "Did I look really well last night, Babette?" she asked. "Mademoiselle is irresistible when sli« chooses," murmured the French woman. Miss Mailing again relapsed into deep thought. "If I could only tie sure of tbe past remaining the past, if I were only cer tain that ugly facts would not turn up unexpectedly to face me, I would marry this poor creature with a title —I would, if only to save me from myself. Surely, after six years of safety and prosperity, I am never going to be such an utter idiot as to risk loss of everything, because this poor painter is good looking and charm ingly candid. I hate myself for my weakness. Only ten days ago I began this flirtation for my own amusement and to annoy that big-eyed, pale-faced child, to give her a few unhappy hours as a set-off against the perpetual anxiety her mere existence causes me. and. before I am certain that either of these purposes is accomplished, I wake up to the humil iating knowledge that 1 am caught in my own trap, that for the first time in my life I have fallen in love!" She burst into scornful laughter, so startling Babette that the ivory-backed brush (lew out of her hand, and she stood with round eyes and open mouth regarding her mistress' face In the glass. "What is the matter with you? Why are you staring at me like that?" By an effort Babette recovered her usual subdued, respectful expression. "I feared mademoiselle was not well," she murmured, apologetically. "Nonsense! (io on with your brush ing, and do not take notice of what does not concern you." "She is a very cat!" Babette said, con fidentially, to the brush, as she picked it up. "I should like to know what wicked ness she is plaunig now." "Perhaps it is not to be wondered at, after all," Pauline mused. "Ho is so different from the men one usually meets —so honestly simple, so bright and true, so sensitively honorable. 1 believe he would marry that chit in spite of me if the release did not come from her. It shall! If I cannot have him. she never shall! On that one poi.i, my mind is fully made up!" lTc» r»onti" • ' • A .Niulit of 11. "Popley's got an awful big family. It must be awful to fe 1 all of them." "1 guess so. 1 ri-.ili. i d last night what it mean! to have about a hundred mouths to fe> "Goodness' lid you have to enter tain that tiv y people'/" "No m ~uitocs." — Philadelphia l'rcss. • I in portaut* it' True. "Have you ever attempted to play 'Hamlet'/'" asked tbe manager. "No, sir. I do not consider myself fitted by nature to impersonate tbe melancholy Dane." "Then you are indeed, as you have said, mi exceptional actor. I will give you a job."—Chicago Tribune. The New C»irl. ]>olly was out for a walk and met an old friend of her father. "And how old are you, little one?" asked the old gentleman. I!nt I'olly was indignant. "I'm hardly old at all; I'm nearly new," she answered, tossing her head. —Chicago Journal. Highest Office. The Foreigner—The presidency, I be lieve, is the highest office within the gift of the American people, is it not? The Native —No; the highest office Is the weather signal station on I'lke's peak. Hu re Sign. Kdyth—l think Stella is beginning to get uneasy about the future. Mayme—Because why? Kdyth—She has begun to speak of spinsters as maiden ladies. What a Wise Wife Knows. She knows that home Is more than half what you make it, and that a builder of a happy home Is a success Indeed. She knows that It takes two to prolong a family quarrel, one can therefore terminate it. She knows that tilling a house with bargains keeps a couple from owning the house In which they place them. She knows that If we thought all we said we'd lie wise, lint if we said all we thought we'd be foolish. She knows that some people sneer at love in a cottage, but love that could wish to live anywhere else is not love. She knows that proud people seldom have friends. In pros perity they know nobody, in adversity nobody knows them. She knows that to make long-lived friendships one must l>e slow In making them. She knows that the woman who gains a trifle meanly is meaner than the trifle. She knows that "It Is less pain to learn in youth than to be ignorant In old age." She knows that if she cannot throw brightness over her home it is best not to throw a wet blanket over it. She knows that the wife who thinks she is perfect Is generally the most Imperfect. The unwise wife may prolit by studying what the wise wom an knows. llow to Mend. To mend a rent In cloth or silk tack u piece of the same color. If possible (if not the same material it does not matter provided the color matches*, underdraw the edges close together nnilimssthe needle under from right to left Mini from left to right, mid so on till the repair is finished; it makes a kind of zigzag stitch and is hardly perceptible if neatly executed. It looks better than a darn. If, however, the material frays very much it will prob ably be necessary to draw the rent to gether tirst with a different colored fine cotton anil darn it, taking np (•very other llircad. One strand of filoselle of the correct shade should be vised, either for darning or for the first-described method. 'J'o become an expert darner requires patience and good eyesight. ABBUTPE- , /j^MsbabV What does the nervous mother ask herself in moments when nerves are strained by pain or overexcitement of any kind? "Host!" she chiefly de mands. "Leave me! l.et me have ijuiet, darkness, freedom from effort." Wo accord the nervous baby exact ly opposite treatment. \A e answer as if entreated, "Hock me! Toss me! Shake rattles at me! Sing to me, shout, jump at me! Show me a light, anything to keep me awake and ex cited!" Tradition takes a strong hold iu the nursery. It Is voted cruel In difference "to let a baby cry." The very mother who best recognizes the value of "a good cry" In calming her own overwrought feeling* cun least make up her mind to allow the same I relaxation to the baby for whose ner vous condition she is probably entirely to blame. The tiny baby's fretfulness Is, as a rule, purely physical, and espe cially dependent on overexcited nerves. Any mother who will allow her baby to grow for at least six months of Its life in a restful atmosphere, absolute ly unstimulated beyond its natural pace of development, will have food for thought in comparing her results with those of the more common train ing. The short skirt Is shorter than ever. Kilting continues to enjoy populari ty. Kid gloves of a brilliant brick red are striking. Veils have never been so beautiful nor so necessary. . The day of the muslin dress Is by no means over yet. A plaid mercerized cotton Is nice for fall slilrt waists. (ireat loose-fitting coats suggesting the tlgure underneath are to be the CAPRICES OF THE VEIL. fashion. A lovely one for slender tig ures. Little boleros of lace edged with fur are shown for street wear. (irenat Is a new name for vinegar color, which will be worn. Those fluffy ruffs of dotted ma line fit very well with 1 lie new hats. There's a popular fancy for wear ing the hair parted and drawn iiack. l'laited skirts are shown in many variations and they are still tbe favor ite design. The close-fitting bodice now In rogue has created a demand for tailor-titling underwear. The tailored shirtwaist Is the only one which Is permissible with a black tailored skirt. The newest silk stockings have their owner's monogram embroidered just above the knee. (.Junlnt-looking little Hed Riding Ilood cloaks for small girls are among the newer offerings. No evening gown Is completed with out its gauze scarf, several yards long, of a harmonizing color. The Japanese Woman. The Japanese woman, according to her latest critic, is charming because she Is mistress of all the beauty arts. They were hers centuries before the Christian era, and this perhaps Is the secret of her wonderful attractiveness. She is always trim, always groomed, always "made up," always well dressed. She is never slovenly or un tidy. The Japanese girl Is exquisitely neat. Her little garments are abso lutely clean, us clean as many wash ings and frequent airings and Bhak ings can make them. She wears a silk gown that may be half a century old, but it is so carefully kept that it looks (is If Just from tlie hands of the em broiderer. She cares little for new clothing, for she has the art of making her old clothe* look like new, and this Is everything to her. Bloomera for Children. Sensible mothers nre going to let their little girls wear bloomers with tlreir winter suits. These bloomers may match the stockings or petticoats— thus for Instance, a child wearing black shoes will have a pair of black silk or black cashmere bloomers. Where brown shoes aiul stockings are worn tlie bloomers will carry out the color note. It is not so desirable to have the bloomers made of the ma terial of tlie dress. It Is too suggestive of the boy's knickerbockers. Tlie Reposeful Woman. "She ts the cleverest woman of my acquaintance," was the verdict of ona neighbor on another, "because she is not In the least dull, aiul .vet manage* to be restful. I know so many bright women —bright in all sorts of differ ent ways, but all alike In one thing. They are never reposeful. They are strung up to concert pitch. They amuse you, charm you, stimulate you, dazzle you—but they never, never rest you by any chance." Wedding Hnper«tltlons, A bride who finds a spider on her wedding dress may consider herself blessed. The bride who dreams of fairies the n1;;lit before her inarrlnge will 1)0 thrice Messed. No bride or bridegroom should bo given a telegram on the way to church. Is Is a sign of evil. If the bridegroom carries a minia ture horseshoe In his pocket ho will always have good luck. If tin 1 wedding ring is dropped dur ing the ceremony the bride may as well wish herself tinhorn, for site will always have 111 luck. Form of mid Tafl'cta Ribbon. A (loot! Perfume. Perfume is the expensive luxury of the dressing table, by adding half an ounce of oil of geranium to a pint of spirits of cologne you will have u very nice perfume and a strong one. I.et this stand for a month and It will bo ready for use.