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GHAPTEB M.-A TALK WITH ELLA.
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SYNOPSIS.—Tlie opening chapter introduces us to Stephen A a young miner, who is tryinsr to raise himself in the socinl scale, and who has fallen in love with Ella, the daughter of Sir Jasper Hyl- ton. Stephen lodges in the house of Richard Brame, a miner, who has a daughter named Hetty, of un- oornmon beauty. Stephen has been successful m passing an examination, and is offered the post of under-rnanagn-r of a mine in the neighbourhood, and, being anxious that Ella should know of his good fortune, resolved to na-st her on her way homo from the village institute. Her path to Stenfield House, th3 residence of Sir Jasper, led through a plantation, and at this point Stephen waited or her. Whilst waiting he overheard a conversation between iicttv Brame and Lawrence, the brother of Ella. Hetty implores Lawrence to fulfil his pro- mise and marry her. He refuses, and, rather than face dishonour, the high-spirited girl leaps into the reservoir. GHAPTEB M.-A TALK WITH ELLA. Stephen paused in his rusli to the reservoir, for there, skirting the edge of the pool and making their way to where the overflow ran into a tiny stream, were two figures. One he instantly recognised as that of Law- rence, but before, in the dim light, he could satisfy himself as to the identity of the other they had passed out of view. Concluding that Lawrence had overtaken Hetty, and that, hearing; someone coming throufeh the bushes, they had made their way along the side of the reservoir in order to escape detection, Stephen was about to retrace his step when a vague uneasiness im- pelled him to continue his course to the water's edge, until he stood there, looking down upon its dark surface. The reservoir, before the colliery was started, had been an ornamental lake, and on the further side ran back into the woods. But here, where Stephen was standing, the bank fell precipitately to the water. Not a ripple disturbed the surface, and Stephen, with a sigh of relief that Hetty had been prevented from carrying out her rash intention, turned and made his way back I to the pathway. As he stepped from the bushes he became tware of the approach of Ella Hylton. She shook hands with him as a matter of course, for she considered they were great friends in spite of the wide difference in their positions. Ella was democratic in her views, and. besides, they had toiled together side by side in temperance and Sunday School and night school work for years, during which he had always been her devoted ally and cham- pion when the lads or children were rough and unmanageable. Ella's nature was sweet and clinging, and, none of her own people earing for philanthropy, she had turned enthusiastically to those who shared her love of it. Her mother having long been dead— Ella had no recollection of her—she was Buffered to grow up in a rather haphazard fashion, her father permitting her almost as much liberty in her action as he allowed her brother. Fortunately for the girl, Mr. Seymour,, the good vicar of the parish, had early sought to influence and raise her young thoughts to higher and nobler ends than) those of her father and brother. In these feelings Stephen Melhuish shared, though, in his manly way, he was more reserved than Ella. I shall be glad of your escort a little way, Stephen," said the girl, after she had greeted him, for I am late to-night, and I always think it is so lonely here by the reservoir. Sometimes there is no one about, and any- thing might so easily happen. A slip, or a push, you know, and where would one be?" Stephen shuddered, thinking of the splash, then, re-assured by the memory of the two figures he had aeen walking away on the edge of the reservoir, he said, with recovered cheerfulness- It isn't like you to be nervous. But I Suppose this place is rather lonely. You ought not to walk here alone so late," and involuntarily he stepped a little nearer as they walked on. I Have you been to the funeral. asked the girl, presently. "Poor Mrs. Tompkins! I am sorry for her!" "So am L" said Stephen. "She was almost overcome at the graveside, though she is so brave and reticent. Of course, I was there. Poor Tompkins! I had a great respect for him "He was a good, honest man, and Mrs. Tompkins must feel some comfort in the thought that for iiim death could have no terrors." Well, If we believe anything at all, we must believe that he has gone to his reward," said Stephen feelingly. Yes, and such sorrow as his poor widow's Is, after all, infinitely lese than that of one who lives to see her loved one sink into dis- honour." Stephen started. Had she seen-did she I know of Lawrence's ill-oonduct? Have you heard about Smithers, the manager of the bank?" Ella continued. "It Is only a little over a year since he was sent to take charge of the StanOeld branch, and pow he has been arrested for embezzlement. His wife. poor thing, is in terrible distress- indeed, despair. I have been with her for an hour this afternoon, but could do little; words are almost useless in such heart trouble." "Yes, indeed; but your presence would be Comforting," said Stephen, thinking how it would oomfort him to have her near him if he were in trouble. If only those wfro do wrong would remem- ber in time the suffering they are bringing on others," continued the girl, oh, then, surely, they would desist from doing it! I know," she went on, earnestly, "how keenly I feel everything that concerns the only two relations I have, my father and my brother- especially my brother, because he is so near me in age, and we have shared everything, and have always been such chums. Why, Steve," She had long called him by that ^7 Mother ever did anything that me. T rigllt1Jand honourable it would kill I shld simply die." Ber tone was bStehnehr8~the hoJonr!" °f One ilonrbeaT^ hfT MW^of her bmth^^e^1^ he had wronged? One hery the woman tain. If the truth mi™ T," Buffer more—yes, infinitely WT° rence. His face flushed at th« t v. n how great would be her shame and jf In the starlight Ella nance, seeing m it his varying i wondering not a little at his gil^r, °S' hi. heightened ookmr eaoSI wTSart" £ flutter almost painfully. Stephen felt a great longing to shield her from the bitter truth and to keep her from coming in contact with her brother Looking up, the young man met her eyes fixed earnestly upon his face. f'"I~I beg your pardon," he said, con- ■Rt. "My th0UgrhtS ihen he stopped thein a fCW sec0IH*e t,^iere was silence between I came to tell you of my good for- eub^ ^Pb'en said at length, changing the and30*5*' "1 have passed my examination, „ j hold a second-clavss certificate." "Yo gratulate you," said Ella, warmly. T o-, ^Ve work so hard," she added, "that •• rpv,SUfe you deserve it." I hnn j you," said Stephen. "I thought— C\ a?ou wou,d glad." friend = ^ly' of course I am! All your delighted™USt 1>e" be youHflmT DOt kDOW yet" 1 wanted to tell Thank vOu, said the girl in her turn, Pleaaed. oontinued Step^f ff°P1 Bryce," him to say something mcumt>ent on -as-ss p suss: it. "dh. "iSi rou wi" <« Ella's voice was so fulf^f very Slad!" almost more than sympatll f tha^if^' him, making his heart bound. thrilled "That you care." h. lowMi°y' lones, is to me more than all." ep "Of course, I care," she said, layin one small gloved hand upon his arm and look- In up at him with intense sympathy 00- 4 l°nging came upon him to tell her every- thing, but it seemed too bold a thing to com- pass. Still, he made the plunge.. "You are so good," he said, "so very good to me, I want to tell you something. Listen' My eariieet recollections are of being a poor child, a very poor child, brought up by Mrs. Smith, a washerwoman, who called herself my foster-mother. She told me my parents were dead, and she was very good to me in her way, Bending me to school longer than the other village children, and telling me to
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WHAT OTHERS SAY. R^well-road, Wiekford. states:—" Duty compels me to tell all who suffer that your pills cured me after years of pain." tv ['« Warren> 36, Melbourne-road, Tilbury pocks, Kesex .writes:—I can assure you the first L. ffood than all the medicine loin's nn my dll,) doctor for six weeks." HujjD- ? idi. Bi are a Positive care for Backache, £ XTioJ'T''i^ITSi
IMUNIFICENT BEQUESTS.
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I MUNIFICENT BEQUESTS. I' Mr. James Jamieson, the well-known Ar- broath gentleman, whose funeral took place on Monday, has made a number of handsome public bequests. It is estimated that the sum bequeathed to public paWPoses willeven- j tually amount to nearly £ 50,000-
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1 0 A 0UR X | SHORT STOUT. | rt THE RED COURT ft X ROBBERY. X Q^hhhhhh>O<hh>^
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"Oh, Mr. Ainley, what do you think. Lady Milbury's jewels have been stolen whilst we were at dinner! Isn't it awful?" So spake pretty Blanche Stainton, her lovely eyes, full of excitement, upturned to mine, her breath coming in little gasps through the parted red lips, and the jewelled star sparkling in the glow of the electric light as the white bosom on which it nestled rose and fell tumultuously. I am afraid I was thinking more of the exquisite picture the speaker made than of the startling news she was imparting, for a sudden rush of crimson dyed her face, as she eaid, with a little stamp of her foot:- "Don't look at me like that! I've told you before. You are rude! Did you hear what I said?" "oh-r-yes; that is—er—no. I was think- ing I should like to steal something Oh, don't be so tiresome! I'll go and talk I to someone who knows how to behave. There's Captain Da.lby coming in; I wonder if he's heard the news." "I beg your pardon," I said. "Yon were saying someone's jewels had been stolen?" "Lady Milbury's." "Great Khalifa! How many?" "Two thousand pounds' worth." "Have they any clue?" "Not yet; though Sir Henry has tele- phoned to the police. They are with him now, and I believe they have posted men I round the estate to prevent anyone leaving." "They suspect someone in the house, then ?" "They think it must be one of the ser- vants." no saying she tripped across the room to discuss the matter with Captain Dalby, leaving me to bite my lip with vexation, and watch the two with jealous eyes. Unable longer to stand the sight of that tete-a-tete at the other end of the room, I dejectedly made my way to the library for a quiet smoke. As I entered the somewhat gloomy-looking room, a figure standing at the table turned suddenly at my entrance, replaced a. news- paper in the contents of which he had appa- rently been absorbed, and somewhat sheep- ishly left the room. It was one of the new, waiters. Drawing up a chair to the fire, I lighted a cigarette, and was soon absorbed in the doings of the football world. Having read the reports of the previous day's matches and the dj aw for the next round of the English Cup, I turu^xl to another Page to see which club headed the First Division of the Football League. As I held the paper before me. and endeavoured to uirbe out the positions of the various olubs, as given in the tabulated list, I became aware of a peculiarity I had never before noticed in a. newspaper. The names of the eighteen clubs appeared to be illuminated with little points of light, which sparkled out from the papor, dazzling my eyes as I tried to read, and puzzling me greatly as to their origin, until I found they were caused by little pin- pricks through the letters forming the names of the clubs, and the glow of the fire before which I sat shining through tbsm. "Some new game the ladies have been up to, I expect," I muttered, as I took out another cigarette and felt in my pocket for my matches. Then I remeuuwred I bad used the last one remaining in my box for my previous smoke, so looked about for a sub- stitute, my eye finally resting on a bit of white paper which had been hastily ornmpled up and thrown on to the fire but had evidently rolled off, and now lay, slightly scorched, upon the tiled hearth. Picking it up. I proceeded to smoothen it out to make into a rough "spill," when I found that it was partly covered with rows of flgmres neatly written in ink, as follows:— 5/1.2.3.4—12/4.5.6.7.3.4—'7/2.3.4.5.6- ig/S.S.lO.ll.l?—12/1.6.4.5—1/7 J—14,1.2.3.4— 4/5.6.7.8.9—1/7—9/4.3.3—9/8.13.4.11.12.13.14— 10/11.7.5.9—15/10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18—4/11. 1?. 13.14—14/1.13.6.2—14/4.2.11.3—13/3.7.8.9.1— 13/6.7.8.3.10—1/7—17/1.2.3,4—16/6.7.8—8/1.2. 'Umph! part of the new game," thought I; and then, far want of something better to do, I placed tbe «arap of pa$er the -=-L. punctured League table and endeavoured to discover "where the fun came in." For some time I could make no headway, but at last I begun to make some sense out of the rows of seemingly meaningless figures. The positions of the clubs in the First Division of the League appeared as followe- in the paper I was holding:— 1. Vilia 9. Blackburn 14. W. BromwicU 2. Evert on Hovers Albion 3. BurnJey 10. Wolverhampton 15. Sheffield Wed- 4. Sheffield United Wanderers nesday 5. Bury il. Stoke 16. Kotts Forest 6. Notts C'punty 12. Preston North 17. Bolton Wao- 7. Mmderland End d«rers 8. Liverpool 13. Derby County 18. Newcastle TIn iu-Ii Taking the first group of figures (5/1.2.3.4) on the slip of paper I had picked up, and pre- suming the first figure to mean the number of the olub, counting from the top of the list, and those in the second part of the group to correspond with the letters in the name of the club, reading from the beginning of the line, I at once got "Bury." Following the same system, the next group gave "stones." Then came "under," followed by "north" "post" "in" "west" "field." "Bury stones under north post in west field," I repeated. This appeared to be a rather funny "game." "Stones!" What stones? And why should they be buried? Stones suggested jewels, which brought to mind the recent theft. And a startling thought occurred to me. Was this scrap of paper, after all, not an innocent amusement, but some-thing of a darker complexion? My pulse began to beat, more quickly as I went on with my task. Soon I had got the whole of what was evidently a message, which ran as follows:- B-ury stones under north post in west field. I can recover them Wednesday nite. 'Ware 'tecs round Court. I bolt Jor Liverpool with loot.—Ted. Was this, then, one of those ingenious thieves' cryptograms I had so often read about? It looked vastly like it, and I started to my feet as I suddenly remembered the presence of the "temporary" waiter in the room, and his somewhat guilty look as he dropped the paper I had just been reading, and made off at my entrance. He must be the thief, probably connected with a gang outside. This was Tuesday, so probably the instruc- tions regarding the burying of the jewels would be carried out some time this very evening, in readiness for the "loot" to be lifted on the following (Wednesday) "nite." Now, my proper course, no doubt, was to have gone straight to my host, or the head of the police who were now about the pre- mises, but I saw a chance of covering myself with glory, and becoming the hero of the hour, vice Captain Dalby; who had hitherto monopolised that enviable position. So I determined to follow the matter up on my own." Supper was taken at 10.0 p.m., and from now until that hour, I argued, the waiters would be pretty well at liberty, and the one I felt was the guilty one would no douht deposit the jewel-case in the appointed spot some time within the next two hours. Accord- ingly, I went out into tue hall, covered my evening clothes with a long, dark coat, pulled my cap well down over my eyes, and strolled silently away in the direction of the "west field." I knew the piece of ground which went by that name perfectly well, as it was really the cricket field belonging to the estate. estate. The wicket was guarded, as is usual in such cases, by a number of strong posts, connected by a wire cable, to protect the "pitch" from the cattle which were allowed to graze in the field. Beaching the ground by a roundabout course. I made my way to the little pavilion, and Kat down on a seat in the shadow of the building to await events. Slowly the minutes dragged along, the distant church clock down in the village apprising me of each quarter of an hour as it passed. At length I saw a figure, dim and indistinct, moving calltiously along under the hedge about twenty yards from mé. For a minute or so it stopped as though listening, then sauntered aimlessly across to the wire-encircled wicket. For some time it Jeaned carelessly against the post at the northern corner of the square, and the aroma of a fragrant Havana came stealing across to me; then, slowly, as though from idle curiosity to see how the poet was fixed, it turned round, grasped the post by the middle, and drew it out of its socket. Then, as the fiure bent down with its back to me, the right hand drawing something from the overooat pocket, I left my hiding-place and dashed across the grass to catch my man red-handed. I got within ten yards of him before he hard my footfalls, then, with a start, he faced round, and I saw the trim military moustache and dark eyes of—Cap- tain Dalby! And then, as fate would have it, my foot caught on a tuft of grass, I stumbled, partly regained my balance, slipped on the frosty surface, and finally rolled headlong at his feet. With an oath he was upon me, and the cold muzzle Of a revolver was pressing into the nape of my neck as I lay face down- wards, not however before I had given vent to a loud cry for assistance. "Curse you, you silly young fool!" snarled my rival. "You've brought the 'tecs on us. I've a jolly good mind to finish you!" Two figures were hurrying towards us out I of the darknees of the wood, and the captain looked round for a way of escape, but it was too late. The two detectives came hurrying up, and I felt the preesnre of the revolver removed from my neck. "Just in time, sergeant," exclaimed the captain, coolly, as he helped me to my feet. "Here's the stealer of my lady's diamonds. You'll find them in that hole, I believe. I've been watching him for the last hour. Bring him along to the court, while I go and inform Sir Henry." And he ran off in the direction of the hotise. Meanwhile I was so astounded at his cool audacity that for a moment I was speechless, then, as I tried to explain, blind rage, com- bined with grass and other things, choked my utterance. "Stop him!" I gasped. "He's the thief; not me! You've got the wrong man-" I "Stow it!" growled the detective who was holding me, as he mopped his brow. "Any- thing you say will be used in evidence. Fohnd 'em, Jim?" he called to his comrade, who had been on his knees at the hole, and now came up, bearing in his hand the miss- ing jewel-case. "Aye; they're here, right enough. None missing either, I don't think." he went 0.:1, as he opened the case, the stones gleaming cold and limpid in the starlight. "Follow that man," I began again; "he'll escape-he's-" "Chuck it, I tell you, and come along and see what Sir Henry's got to say about it!" So away we marched, and in a few minutes I was pushed into the astonished presence of Sir Henry and some of his guests, who were j in the hall. I noticed also a new face. that of a keen, clean-shaven man of middle age, who was talking to Sir Henry as we entered. And, among the guests crowding in the hall 1 saw the startled face of Blanche Stainton. "What's this? What this?" spluttered my "What's this? What this?" spluttered my host, as he gazed in, horror on my dilapi- dated appearance. "Mr. Ainley! Why, what —what in the name of goodness I "Please sir," explained the sergeant, "we've I got the jewels, and here's the thief." "Is Captain Dalby here?" I asked. "Captain Dalby! Captain Da.lby!" The word was passed from lip to lip, and from room to room. No, Captain Dalby had not been seen for the last hour. "Of course, he hasn't!" I burst out. "These silly cuckoos have made one of their usual blunders. He's miles off by this time." The two detectives began to look uncom- fortable. Meanwhile the clean-shaven stran- o ger had been regarding me intently, and now spoke. "Who is this, Captain Dalby, Sir Henry? One of your guests?" "Yes, yes; certainly," replied the baronet. "He was "A friend of yours, I presume?" went on the calm voice of the London detective. "Er—well—hardly that, you know. I met him casually at the club a month ago, and I as he seemed a very decent fellow, I asked him down here." "I see; I see. What was he like?" J "Oh, tall, dark, well-made; very good form, you know, and-and all that." "Umph! You haven't a photograph of him, [ suppose?" "No, I haven't, I'm afraid; but surely you t don't think-" ) "I have a photo of Captain Dalby," cried I my brave little Blanche, as she pushed her- self through the group, her face burning crimson. "Here it is," apd she pushed a small carte de visite into the detective's hands. He took it, with a quizzical glance at her burning face, then, after examining it care- fully, he laughed and turned to my captors. "Yes," he said, "I think you can let.Mr. Ainley o. 'Captain Dalby' is 'The Chicken.' one of our best swell mobsmen, and a mem- ber of Ted Millbank's gang. If you let him out of your sight I don't think you'll get him I now." a And they never did. I "And I'm not sorry, either, poor man," said the future Mrs. Ainley, a day or two afterwards; for even if he was a thief, he was a perfect gentleman to me-for he never tried to pay me ridiculous compliments." I
EATEN BY A SERPENT.¡
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EATEN BY A SERPENT. ¡ —— The "Ost Afrikanische Zeitung" publishes a horrible account of the tragic fate which overtook a native at N'geta, German East Africa. According to the custom of the country, one of the native planters had caused his fields to be weeded by friendly natives. One of the negroes, who belonged to a tribe which regards snake flesh as an especial delicacy, found a huge boa-con- strictor lying in the middle of one of the heIde, and confided the discovery to one or two other natives, and arranged with them to kill it during the hours of darkness. Towards nightfall, when the consumption of considerable quantities of pombe had stimulated his courage, this negro, armed with a stick, attacked the huge serpent with the intention of killing it. But the boa-1 constrictor, aroused from its apparent torpor, suddenly seized the unhappy negro, slowly crushed him to a pulp, and then; gradually swallowed him. )
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J WALES L r Speaks Out. A REVOLUTION ears has so roused I IU TR A n I MP the feelings of the N InAlflnU. Welsh Nation than the revolution in WATCH and JEWEL trading caused by the introduction of S THE BRITISH PURSER'Si: STRAIGHTFORWARD, FACTORY-TO- WEARER, IBIG MIDDLE PROFIT- CUTTINC METHODS. At one blow. they have swept away for ever the old bad days of low values, old, worn stock and huge profit prices, and established a solid REPUTATION & SUCCESS Never before approached on the sound basis of BETTER WATCHES-BETTER JEWELS FAIR PRICES & GENUINE SAVINGS. Solid Silver Brooches Men's Strong Solid Silver ft H Bangles, & c Hard-wearWatchesC /Q DU. (usually i 6). (usually tq'6). FineSolidGoid Hrooches Silver Plated Break- 3 in Rare Value, fast Cruets, O/S U (usually 6,'6). (usually 4 )■ Rear Diamond and Ruby Ladies' Real Gold ff| £ iSct Engagement Watchesand Bow 04 /— 111/ D Rings(worth 21/-) Brooch complete *■ OUR CUSTOMERS REMAIN BUYERS FOR UFE. Ask any of your friends who are and know. A MONTH'S ORDERS BY POST ppce TRIAL. SENT SAME DAY. FRE This will save you FULL TRAIN catting whoa not FAR E PAID. convenient. j BRITISH r u jEwELLERs P U RS E R'S T"r'' C4l'7"IO. _(1 CMt1U'd£o1'l with any (ttitr. 2, QUEEX-STKETET, UAIlUirr St. Corner, m NEWPORT (Mon.v-25, High-street. ]■ SWANSEA-84, High-streel. M Too many cooks spoil the gravy because they do not use Gravosal, the new nutrient gravy maker,which enables you to serve the simplest meat dish with rich and thick gravy. Sold in penny packets and 4%d. glass jars. Sa,np¡t.íru Oft mentioning ,l £ ™?lda"ir<si°S KINGOV Ji Trading- Co.,Cardiff j bptteb Mom Lay up a store of vigorous 1 health and strength now by takinfi Hall's Wine—the mar- vellous restorative. It will put new life and vitality into • you. It will safeguard you *^3 against breakdown. Try just one large bottle. "THANKS TO Halls WineHI THE- MABVtLLOUS Rt-STORXTlVt' mHE GREAT BLOOD PURIFIER.— TliOMPSO.N,s -BUILDOCK PlLLS purify tbe foulest blood and relieve every Ihseiaee of Stomach, Liver, and Kidneys. Poire blood giv^s health. Thousands have been cured by these wonderful Pills whose diseases could not be reached by any other medicine. FOT rheu. matics, lumba-go, piles, gravel, pains in the back, ecurvy, bad less, wounds, or white blotches on the face and body, swelled feet or lege, erysipelas, janudioe, dropsy, and fevert of all kinds. In boxes at Is. lid. and 2e. 9d. each. Sold by all chemists, or from the Bur- dock Pill Manufactory, Oxford-street, Swansea. M jj) Of course there has been improvement in soaps. This soap was good, that soap was good in its day. TO-DAY IS Puritan Soap u i n o DAY I When we put Olive Oil into Puritan Soap we solved, the great soap problem to get a quick washing' soap that would not hurt the hands or clothes ic Other soaps wash as quickly as Puritan Soap. If you Want quick washing only there's little to choose between them. 9 I t |5| fT NO other soap has the Puritan Soap Guarantee: Puritan Soap CANNOT hurt the Tiands The CANNOT hurt the clothes. Difference Any garment spoiled by Puritan Soap I will be replaced free. J Then get into line with the modern time and clothes- saving soap and buy PURITAN 2d, & 322'd #m c-m o or OUnwn SOAP id. discount in value given on np A « » each size if the ■ II m II J\ V WI*PPC CHR1STR. THOMAS A BROS., LTD., BRISTOL. C 51 -===== m
GHAPTEB M.-A TALK WITH ELLA.
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aim for a higher lot than theirs. So I worked hard at my lessons, and after, when the village children were at play, I apart, dreaming of the great things I would do. When I was fourteen my foster-mother died, and, as she was dying, she said to me, I always meant to tell you the truth one day. You are not of our class. Your parents were She broke down, and could say no more. That night she died. And the next day I was sent to the pit, and began work there. But in night schools, and with help from Mr. Seymour and others, I went on learning—not always for my own sake"-he paused to glance at Ella-"but for the sake of one I loved, who seemed at first as far above me as those stars." He glanced up at them. Ella said nothing. Her eyes were on his face, reading it in the dim starlight. Taking courage from her silence Stephen proceeded— "You know Tennyson says, 'We needs must love the highest When we see it.' Well. I did so. And—I love her still-" He had said it now, and he dared not look at Ella lest he should read dismissal in her face. She had started, and her eyes were cast down. Was she waiting for more? At least she was not offended. Gathering hope from the silence, Stephen stole a look at her downcast face, and then continued in the same grave, earnest tones. She is still far above me, but I am pressing on—towards the goal—the goal of her dear love. I have got my feet on the first rung of the ladder of sucoess, and that is a begin- ning, and I mean to go on—to go on-" he paused, looking- wistfully down at her. I "What am I to say?" slie said, in a half whisper, with a strange new timidity which had never come over her before in his pre- sence. Say nothing yet," he answered, for the time has not yet come. Be sure I shall not ask you to speak till I am reeady." "You see, it is not as if I stood alone," she said, still timidly. "I have to think of my father, and—and brother. They—they expect so much of me." A great impatience came over Stephen at the mention of her brother. Was such as he to dominate the life of Ella. But Stephen suppressed the feeling a.nd answered gravely, "I shall not ask you, dear (the word slipped out), until they can have no Ojection." "That is kind, that Is consIderate" said the girl gratefully- On, Steve, I wish you well! Indeed, I do. I wish you all success." her voice was very sweet. It fell like music on his- ears. He raised her hand, and kissed it through the glove, she making no resistance. They were in sight of Stenfield HOUse by that time, and Ella said hastily, "Goodnight I will not say good-bye You cannot be going before next week. and I shall see you 4t the mission-room before then. And, afterwards, I hope we shall often meet, for I think YOu; love for your Sunday School scholars will carry you over the three miles between Res. ton and Stenfield. The desire to see you will effectually lIre- vent my staying away," said Stephen, look- ing earnestly into her face. Ella dropped her eyes beneath his gage then, once mbre bidding him Good-night she hurried along the path to her home. Stephen stood still looking after her until she was out of sight. CHAPTER YV--MJA AT HOME. "He loves me!" Ella was saying in her heart as she dressed for dinner that evening "And I-oh, Steve, I care for you-I cannot help doing so, for you are a man, and that's what some of these so-called gentlemen are not. How I get out of patience with! them! They are so empty-headed and frivolous! They think a girl is plea-sed when they talk to her in an inane and flattering manner. They-they are altogether so inferior. Stephen is good, large-minded, and noble." Ella usually dispensed with the services of a maid. To be waited upon personally in her own rooms by another woman did not harmonise with her ideas of social equality. "I am able to wash and dress myself," she said, "so why should I require another woman to do it for me?" Nevertheless, the exigencies of the toilet made occasional assistance desirable, and it was understood in the house- hold that when her bell rang a housemaid called Annice, who had once been a lady's maid, should answer it. The girl came in now to fasten her mis- tress's dress and perform other little duties. She was a village maid, and, moreover, a cousin of poor Mrs. Tompkins, and she had been to the funeral. Her mind was full of it; she could scarcely see to fasten the hooks and eyes for the tears in her brown eyes. "All Stenfield was there, Miss," she said. "Such a crowd as you never saw. And the vicar spoke so beautifully at the graveside. Grasses, he said, we were, coming up iotrt of the field, and living for a day, and then pass- ing away and dying like flowers of the field. But that wasn't all. He said there's a wakin' up in glory on the other side for those who have lived well. That's what he said, Miss, cut short, and I was just feeling so happy, thinking as Tompkins would be sure to be all right, 'cause he was as good-livin' a man as you could wish to see, when poor Bessie, Mrs. Thompkins, you know, Miss, burst out cryin', and would have thrown herself into the grave if Steve Melhuish had not stepped forward and laid a hand on her am. He said something in her ear, and she was as quiet as a lamb, and he led her away from the graveside and took her home. He couldn't have treated her better if she had been a real lady and he a gentleman. "He is a gentleman," ?aid Ella. "One of the gentlest I have every known." The maid looked puzzled. He's right enough in his way," she said. But, Miss, you know he isn't well dressed and rich. Not what I call a gentleman-" "Fine clothes don't make a gentleman," observed her mistress, and neither does money." The maid had fastened her dress now. It was a soft, white voile, caught up here and there with blue ribbons of the exact colour of her eyes, and she wore a little bunch of forget-me-nots in her hair and nestling in the bosom of her dress. Usually she was pale, but now a pretty colour was in her cheeks, and there was a light—the light of happiness —in her eyes. The maid regarded her with approval. Never had she seen her mistress look so well. The white dress suited her, and the blue enhanced the blueness of her eyes. 1, It's a pity there's only Mr. Godfrey Allanson here to dinner, Miss," she remarked. "Why?" Ella asked. "Because you look so beautiful, Miss." "Oh. what nonsense!" cried Ella. "Just put my things straight, Arinice, will you?" she continued. «' I must hurry down to the drawing-room, for I shall be late." When she entered the big drawing-room a few moments afterwards she found her father standing with his back to the fireplace, await- ing her with some impatience. "Here you are at last!" he said. "Really, Ella, you were almost late," and his eyes rested disapprovingly on the girl. To be late was, with him, a cardinal sin. Where are the others?" asked Ella, look. ing round. "Late, too!" said Sir Jasper, in a tone of annoyance. Oh, they will be here in a minute," said Ella. "You look tired, father," she added, with concern. "Tired? I should think so. And worried, too! I shall be glad when Lawrence can take some of the burden from my shoulders." So shall I father. It is too bad for you to have so much to do," returned Ella, with sympathy. He knit his brows. He was a stern-looking man, and when be knit his brows looked positively ill-tempered. His tall, broad figure towered above Ella, as he glanced down at her somewhat disdainfully. People usually declared that there was not much love lost between the two, but Ella's nature was too affectionate for that to be quite true. She loved him, and her dutifulness left nothing +. be desired; It isn't work so much as worry," said the man, more to himself than to her. "Expenses are so great, and we are not doing so well as Ella was sorry to hear tbis. "Would von like me to eoonomise in the housekeenine?" she ventured. P«»g-r He laughed scornfully. "Tha.t would make no perceptible difference," he said you should spend more, rather Z less, so that our credit might be mamtain«l But, mind," he added hastily, "not a wortTof this to others." 01 Ella could make no rejoinder, for at that moment Lawrence and their guest entered the room. The latter was a dissipated-looking man about fifteen years older than Lawrence. He had dark hair and eyes, and rather good features, with the exception of his chin, which was rather too prominent-to be pleasant. It made him appear strong-willed, even to obsti- n&ay. In figure he was rather broad and of height. Xb»-eo«i of adroxi- .=- turer, he passed his time either in London, where he had facilities for gambling on the Stock Exchange, or in the country, attending races and betting on horses. When nothing else was to the fore he oontrived to secure invitations to country houses, where he spent his time playing billiards and cards, gene- rally with considerable pecuniary success. "I am a lucky dog!" he was wont to say jocosely, and the stars in their courses fight for me." He had great influence over men weaker than himself, and, just now especially, was devoting his attention to Lawrence. Ella instinctively disliked him, and when, presently, she found herself sitting between him and Sir Jasper, she felt distinctly uneasy. As the dinner prooeeded, chilled by her manner, he talked more to Lawrence on his other side, while the girl's attention, wander- ing from her luxuriously-appointed surround- ings, returned to Stephen Melhuish. Was he writing an acceptance of the post which had been offered him? Or, perchance, having done that, he was partaking of his frugal supper, with his mind intent upon the future. The difference was, indeed, very great between their positions now, but it would not be so always. A man of such abilities and of such strength of will as Stephen would soon force his way onward. Until he had done so, he would not ask her for anything more than friendship. He was leaving her free, absolutely free, and she thought his conduct noble. Don't you think so, Miss Hylton?" asked Godfrey Allanson, turning to her all at once. "Don't I think what?" she asked, with a little smile, because she had not been atten- tive. "That the Eleventh, and most important, Oomrnandiment is 'Thou shait not be found out' ?" E!):<, shook her head gravely. "That is no Commandment," she said. Adding impul- sively, "There ought not to be anything to be found out." "Oh, of course not!" said Allanson, with a little grimace. "Everyone ought to be highly respectable. Of course," said Ella simply, returning to her own thoughts. She it so ultra practical," observed Law. rence petulantly, breaking off some grapes. Ladies are," said his friend. Then, turn- ing to his host, he added, "Don't you agree with me, Sir Jasper, that infinitely worse than wrong-doing is the sin of being found out?" Sir Jasper started in a way that did not escape the notice of the other, but the next instant he was answering composedly enough, Well, I grant that it's worse to be a fool than a sinner. Hence, if a sinner is foolish enough to be found out that is worse than the other thing." "Hear! hear!" said Allanson, rather noisily. "Miss Hylton, your father is on my side." Thus recalled to his conversation, for which she did not care, /Ella again listened politely while the man explained his theory, then she answered with some warmth: If there is wrong-doing the best that can happen for everyone concerned is that it should be found out. Secret sin is worst of all, for, just as a canker-worm in a flower "Look!" he oried, "look at your handiwork!" deBttoys the whole plant, so sin destroys the in which it lodges." M: dear Ella," said her brother, with ineffble contempt, you are growing in- sufferably goody-goody! Pray, remember you are Il\t addressing a Sunday School class!" Ob, I beg your pardon!" said the girl sweetly « I did not mean to be dictatorial." Allanson looked bored, exceedingly so, and Sir Ja^j-'g colour had deepened as he drank glass ter glass of his old port irt a manner which Vas not usual. Ella ri^ to leave them, after a rather wist- ful glarce in the direction of her brother, who seevrhed to her to be looking singularly pale ,n4 not at all happy. Allan opened the door for her, saying, as she Passed, We are not angels like you, Miss Hylion. We are only men." "Please don't talk in that way. I have very many faults," returned Ella, as she swept by. She had a lonely time of it in the drawing- room, for \he gentlemen did not join her, a91 they pretend to go to the billiard-room, where billittrd-playing, and, alas, no little gambling, vent on far into the night. CHAPT^ v_aN AWFUL CHABGE. When Ella. left him Stephen turned and began to w<tk back slowly, thinking over what -had Pissed and mentally rehearsing most of what they had been saying. I He had told her more, infinitely more, than I he had intenip^ and she was not offended, she was not ofcended at all. More than that, she seemed Pleased, positively pleased to hear of his and devotion. She under- stood that he Vould not say more until the gulf between tkir positions was crossed, but she would wait for him, she would wait for him on the otht\- side Thank God »> said Stephen, reverently lifting his hat fr a moment in the darkness and solitude of the path by the reservoir, and his heart tl^Qbh^ wtih the purest joy and gladness. Nothing is ^attainable." he thought, "to the man wh<3 has health and strength, and brains and energy. Alld Ella! What a prize she is to wo^ {or, j could WQrk seven years for JWr, as Jacob worked for Rebecca in the oldl3ible story, anfl the seven years would seem like nothing for the love I have for her! M beautiful darling! But! I shall not have to-wait like that. Indomi- I table resolution, Unflagging perseverance, and hard work, ^n^ined with my physical strength and the kn^.j^^ j have acqnired> must and shall enao^ me tQ overcome every difficulty!" I He stood still for a few moments, looking up at the star-besp \ied ¡;ky, and then down on the smooth, darK \at6rs of the reservojr, and rejoicing in the ttength of his manhood and the daring of resolution. Such and such things would he with the blessing of Providence, fl-nd a hap?\>- life with Ella would I crown and beautify his days. And a in he said, "Thank God! » Pressing on, he arrive* at the p]ace wher0i whilst waiting for Ella, ]le had acci<tentaliy overheard Hetty Brame and Lawrence Hylton talking together, and then, at the memory of the poor girl s trou\le and the ymmt, man's perfidy, a sudden^vuteion of feeling came over him, and lie thcUght himself hard- hearted because in his o\,n joy he had for the time being forgotten the girl's distress and despair. the time being forgotten the girl's distress and despair. As if in uiuson with th thoughts a dis. tant growl of thunder N-olie the silence, whilst a vivid flash of "ghkilirig crossed the darkness which was now iding away the stars. ,Stephen wa.s startled; he not thought the weather unsettled; mde^ he had ^en too absorbed to notice it at couple of big drops of rain fell upon his face as he raised it to look around. Ella will be in the house now," wa's his first thought. She will not „6t The second oame more slowly, will pro- bably have gone home, too." Again there was the sound 01 thunder, still in the distance, and a flash 01 lightning lit up the dark, sullen face of The reservoir, whilst the wind sighed mo^Xfully away down the valley. •' That splash in the reservoi* | j wonder what it was!" though^ Stephen. <■ But, then, I certainly saw two figures aftelwa-rds. I'm glad Lawrence hurried after H. Perhaps he changed his mind, and will tnarry her after all. His father will kick h^ out, no doubt." But Ella will stand by m-and I, when I get on, and it will be infinity better for him to play the man and do r\gjjt." Somewhat re-assured on Hetty's account, Stephen hurried on until he arrivyj at his lodgings. Opening fhe-door was nwt smvrfc to. ) find the cottage empty. Changing his coat and turning up the lamp, he dropped into the armchair by the fire, and was soon sunk in a reverie. The minutes sped quickly by, but Stephen, in his day-dreams of Ella, did not notice their flight until the sound of footsteps on the garden path aroused him. Someone was coming to the cottage! But who? The footsteps were not those of Hetty; they were too ponderous. They were not like Brame's quick, decisive tread, yet Stephen felt they were not altogether unfamiliar. Nearer and nearer they oame. To Stephen, sitting in the chair by the fire, listening intently for each one, and wondering who the person could be, they held a kind of fas- i cination. Who could it be? A stumble, and an interruption of the regular rhythm, and Stephen knew that there were two persons. Now they were on the threshold! The latch clicked, and the door was fiung open, and then Stephen started to his feet and uttered a short, hoarse cry, staring not at Richard Brame, but at the burden in his arms. There, on the threshold, stood Brame, his face stern and white. Then, as his eyes ceased to be dazzled by the light, he stepped into the room, and stood for a moment con- fronting Stephen and cla-sping the body of his daughter to his breast. Hetty lay there, motionless. One arm hung limply down, the coat sleeves drawn back, and from the tips of each finger on that lifeless hand a tiny I trickle of water was slowly dropping. Stephen's eyes travelled to her face. The cheeks wore tinged with colour, and the I mouth was slightly opened a-s though she were asleep. Her head had dropped back, and gently swayed from side to side with each brea.th Brame drew, and her hat—a b ack sailor one—was still secured to her hair at the back, though the front had fallen from her foreheead. Stephen noticed at the glazed lining prevented the httle P°° of water that had run from her hair from fall- ing upon the floor. Brame's body shook with a sob. "Ay, look!" he cried. "Look at your handiwork, and may the sight haunt, you night and day." Stephen started as though s .,uc I—my handiwork!" he said. » hat do you mean?" Brame stooped and laid the body on the I rug in front of the fire, then, facing Stephen, said in tones of tlwinder— "I mean that you are the coward who has betrayed this girl and caused her death. "You are mistaken," exclaimed Stephen, aghast at the accusation. I never— Can you say that you have not been near I the reservoir to-night?" asked, a voice, and Stephen turned, to meet the crafty evil eyes of Black Ralph, the village poncher, fixed upon his face with great meaning. (To be continued.)