The Merthyr Express

;t:1!m. J No going back to Old J. J Methods of Baking r J when once you have got into £ 2 the way of using £ | Paisley '1 (Trade Mark) Flour 'f £ 3 J —The Sure Raising1 Powder— I It is very easy getting into 4 the way. The first trials of the novice are nearly always & £ successful, and with a little » £ practice you will bake like an a £ expert. » $More than that, Cakes 3 and Pastry will be so light$ S and digestible. 9 1 7d., 3 £ d., and Id. packets. £ | Brown & Poison make it. L

POET'S CORNER. SEE SLUMITE'S HERITAGE. By John Brind. (Aakbor of "Household Sketches," "History of Bedwellty Church," etc., etc.) A victim of birthright, Waif-bred amid sin, He owns scare an earthright Among human kin. All hopeless and aimless He loafs day and night, With aspect that's shameless With poverty's fight. 0, where is the hand kind To lead him away From worst-horde of mankind lhat guides him astray? W" are innocence blighted From earliest years, Is lost and benighted In sin and in tears. Where youthful ambition But rises to tell, That life's dearest mission, To emulate hell! To better his neighbour 11'. sloth and sin's chime, Not ever to labour ,1 Save in cause of cnme I And yet such but border The wealth and the state, Of those who in order Of rank, are elate. Though thin the partition That separate class From hellish condition, A hand to the mass Raui stretches to ease them; ■Mone they must dwell, Wiu- naught to appease them it chances from hell. TLl" blindly they ravage Tiirough life's sinking bog- To live like a savage, And die like a dog! To those who are masters Of poverty dens, Who reap from disasters In hovels and pens, This picture may aid them V/hen God, who gave true The talents that made them, Vvill ask for His due! I

Published BY SPECIAL Abbasgbment. The Road to Love BY MADAME ALBANESI, Author of "Capricious Caroline," "Tho Strongest of All Things," "Susannah and One Other," ''Love and Louisa," "The Way to Win," etc.. etc. COPYKIUHT. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I. & II. Kicliard Varley hears of the accident which has befallen Sir Patrick Mli- her on the hunting Held. The h.ndiad.v at the Inn where he is staying informs that .ir Pat- tick is dead. After Eiciiatd Varley. walks over to Corbyn Court. lie leaves his card, and tends a message of sympathy to Sir Patrick's only rild, Ellen Milner. Although he is due back In London on the following day, he is almost mind- ed to stay and offer his services to Kllen Milner. A wire from Dorchester, saying he is leaving Eng- land immediately and must, seo him before he de- parts, causes him to chansre his mind, lie goes to London next day. Sir Patrick made a foolish mar- riage. hut Ellen's mother t1 ¡"d when sho was two years old. Since that tjrn iI" had grown up in her father's society. She knew no relatives, and had no women friends. She had heard of her mother's sister. Mrs. Barneith. and lu-r son and two daugh- ters. Her aunt Margaret makes her an offer to come and liva with her and share household ex- pensef. Ellen has a little (,ver a hundred a year, through a life assurance, and her lawyers advise her to fall in with Mrs. Barneith's proposition. She does so, and spends the dreary winter months in exile in a sordid little home, amidst, most uncongenial sur- roundings. in a north country town She finds the atmosphere of her aunt and cousins narrow and constricting, and in the earlv spring months decides lo make her escape. At a junction railway station she sees a young man..vhose breezy, well-bred man- ner attracts her very much. t tie stationmaster calls him "your lordship." This young man finds her a third-class railway compartment. She little knows that site and he will meet under more Intimate cir- cumstances. CHAPTERS lIT. and IV.-E:Ien goes to London, and visits the Chadwicks. Mrs. Chadwick was formerly a maid at Corhyn Court. They make her welcome, and here she accidentally meets Richard Varley again. He discusses her future with the Chadwicks. ne meets Lord Norchester in a smart club, who confides his domestic diffi- culties to him. Riclurd Varley promises to look after Lady Norchester while her husband is away. She has expressed her wish for a lady companion. and Varley at once thinks of Ellen Milner. CHAPTERS V. & VI.-Ellen Milner suffers from Bepression. Mr. Varley arranges with Mrs. Chad- wick to have an interview with Ellen. She accepts the post of being companion t&i beautiful woman who lives in the country ivitli gratitude. Nor- chester and Varley have a farewell meeting. It seems that Mrs. Cibadwick has a relative living at iWynche Castle as under-houseniaid. named Klisa Bond. A note arrives for Ellen from Mr. Varley, and she accordingly sets out for Wyncbc. i\1r. iVarley meets her at the stat ion in a pony phaeton. Ellen takes tho reins, and they drive. When close to the castle they walk the rest of the way and converse. At the castle a footman conducts Miss Milner to Lady Norchester's presence. She is in a towering rage. and her maid is picking up the things she throws down. CHAPTER VII. I For an instant Lady Norchester stared rudely fct the girl before her. She was quivering with passion The violence of her rage. however, Was parsing. "On!" she said, in a short jerky way, "you're the girl Dick Varley said was coming." "Yes," said Ellen, in her gentle graceful way, "I—I understood from Mr. Varley that you Upected me. I am Ellen Millier The maid from the other side of the room turned and looked keenly at the girl, then gave an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. As though conscious of this Lady Norchester Iwept round: "Get out of the room," she said, "do you hear, get out!" The woman gave another glance at Ellen but Miss Milner avoided looking at her as she walked across the room, and let herself out of the room very gently. As she went Lady Nor- chester called after her a very ugly word. Un- consciously Ellen winced, and tnat sense ^of delight, of exquisite pleasure which had reared upon her so consciously during her drive through the country and her walk through the grounds, was swept sharply away. The diffi- culties which Varley had spoken about were assuredly existent, difficulties such as she had uever thought of or imagined. "Sit down," said Lady Norchester, "you look white—are you ill? I don't like people who are ill," she added. "I am very well," Ellen answered, "but I am A little tired." "Well then, sit down," said the other wo- man, and she pushed the most comfortable chair forward. Her rage had completely subsided: the hot wiarv colour had eone out of her face; she even smiled. Ellen found her extraordinarily beautiful. She had such wonderful eyes; such a glorious skin; the delicate oval of her face was unusual. But she was not tidily dressed, she had on a silken dressing gown which was torn and stained, her hair was roughly done, she looked incongruously enough a little deso- late, as though she were neglected, even for- saken. In her awkward sort of way it was evident that she wished to make Ellen feel at home indeed, almost like a child her face took on an expression of eager interest as she plied Ellen with questions. "Dick Varley said he was sure I should like you: he ought to know me by this ttme. I'm Dot one who takes likings very quickly. Some-

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FUN AND FANCY. A child, in writing of Elijah. eaid: "As Elijah went up to Heaven he dropped his man- tle. and Queen Elizabeth walked over it." Maud: "How pretty and ,care Mabel's hair always looks."—Gertie: and it takes her two hours to make it look that way." "A Success."—"Is lie making good in his new lino of work?"—"Yes, indeed. He is already finding fault with the way his bo<« carries on the business." "Havo you heard that Jim had quit smok- "No." "Yes; you see. he is a little near-sighted, and t.he other day he emptied his pipe in a powder-barrel." "My dear friend,—I beg you to lend me ififty dollars," wrote a needy man to an ac. quaintance. "and then forget me for ever. I am not worthy to be remembered." A Kind Master.—Irish Farmer: "I'm think- ing, Pat. I'll have to b« afth";r raisin' your rint."—Irish Labourer: "Sure, 'tis a kind mas- ter ye are intoirely, for I cannot raise it meself, bedad." Judge: "Yon have not yet established the prisoner's insanity." — Attorney: "But. your honour, we mean to introduce witness^ to show that the prisoner habitually argues politics with women." Miss Boil: "You say you earn more money by your pen than vou did a year aso?"—Suitor: "I do."—Miss Bell: that?"—Suitor: "I stopped writing stories and began addressing envelopes." "'What do you think," exclaimed the theatric- al star, proudly, '"th*»y are going to name a now cigar after me." — "Well." replied the manager, "here's hoping it will draw better than you do." Mrs. Da Style: "Dear me' What a lot of society news you've got hold of—even to a full description of Miss Tiptop's Paris trous- seau Where did you hear it all?" Miss De Style: "At the symphony concert." Wife (looking up from a book) "What do you think of this? 'In the time of the Ptol- emies a wife was always given full oontrol of her husband's pronertv.—Husbaxid: "Y-e-s: but in days the fashions never changed." Director: "Our work is '10 divided that. each of our men has the work he is best fitted for. Jones is treafwirer, Smith secretary, and Brown is "—"But. Brown is as deaf as a post?"— "And Brown has all the complaints referred to him." The lady-killer was boasting of his prowess. "One girl whom I knew,' he said, "actually di?d for love of me. I was her last thought!" They eyed him malevolently. "I should t.hink," remarked one of them. "that you tniffht. be anybody's last thought!" "To-day's lesson," said the Sunday school teacher, "teaches us of the influence of kings and queens; but also that there is a higher power. Which little boy can tell us what, it is? Well, Willie, what is it?" "Aces," yelled little Willie, the boy with the big brain. The collector of objects of art and vertu was showing off his collection with much com- placency. 'This." he observed, in a hushed voice, "is a little thing I picked up in London." "Indeed?" remarked the Irreverent Friend. "Who dropped it?" "Gentlemen," announced a club waiter just before twelve o'clock, "a lady has called who won't give her name, but says her husband pro- mised to be home early this evening."—"Ex- cuse me. please!" was the simultaneous exclam- ation of the members present, all of them ris- ing at once. When he came hom, his wife met him in the hall and wanted to know what h" keeping sucn. disgraceful hours liS five o'dock in the morning.—"Five?" "am he. "why, mv love, it's just struck one."—"It's just, struck five, I tell you."—"My dear, that clook is stut- tering again." Tho honevmoon had waned, and the cup- board was bare. "Don't worry. Mabel," said the romantic husband, a* he ooened the piano: "remember music is the food of love." But, the practical little wife shook her head. "If you really think music is the food of Jove," she responded, "perhaps you'll step round and get the butcher to give you a beefsteak for a mere song." Michael met Barney with a long face and ft tear in each ey. "Have vePo heard thp sad news about Patsy?"—"Phwat's fresh wid the pore fellow, Michael?"—"Fre^h! Ah. don't ye know he's dyin'?"—"Dyin', is it? Not 00- he'll pull round, mv boy."—"He's dyin'. Bar- ney." asseverated Michacl emphatically: "the docther himself tould me, and ehure ho knows what, he's giving him "Henry, there's a burglar in the house, cried Mrs. Johnson to her hubby excitedly. "A burglar," exclaimed Henry, springing up. "I'll soon go and pottle him." He seized a poker, and went quickly downstairs. Five min- utes later he came beck. "Well." said his wife, "have yon settled him?" "No,"renl'ed the husband. "I didn't do anything to him. Poor fellow. You see, I went down quietly and caught sight of him in the kitchen helping himself to a slice of that pie you made for our Christmas dinner." "But you will telephone to the nolice stAtion ?" interrupted Mrs. John- eon. "Police station be hanged; ring up the nearest hospital."

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. A DEADENING HABIT. A fault-finding, criticising habit is fatal to all excellence. Nothing will strangle growth quick- er than a tendency to hunt for flaws, to rejoice in the unlovely, like a hog, which always has hie nose in the mud and rarely looks up. The direction in which we look indicates the life aim; and people who are always looking for something to criticise, for the crooked ana the ugly, who are always suspicious, who invariably look at the worse side of others, are but giving the world a picture of themselves. The disposi- tion to see the worst instead of the best grows on one very rapidly, until it ultimately strangles all that is beautiful and crushes out all that is good in himself. No matter how many times your confidence has been betrayed, do not allow yourself to sour, do not lose your faith in peo- ple. The bad are the exceptions; most people are honest and true, and mean to do what is right. THE UNCERTAINTIES OF FORTUNE. No man who suffers by bad fortune but he who has been deceived by good. If we grow fond of her gifts; if we fancy that they belong to us, and are perpetually to remain-with us; if we lean upon them, and expect to be con- sidered for them. we shall sink into all the bitterness of grief, as soon as theee fake and transitory benefits pass .away—as soon as our vain and childish minds, unfraught with Folid pleasures, become destitute even of those which are imaginary. But if we do. not suffer our- selves to be transported with prosperity, neither shall we be reduced by adversity. GRUMBLE-BOY. Now Grumble-boy's a little lad. That's just about as big as me, And sometimes, when the weather's bad, He comes at dawn and stays to tea.; To-day, when I got out of bed And saw the dripping window-pane, I cried, and Nursie, laucrhing. said: "Here's Master Grumble-boy again." He did not like my new red coat, He said the pockets were too small! He broke my bestest 6teamer boat, And lost my brand-new bouncing ball. And when I told mamma at noon, She turned mv face up to the light, And said: "Has Grumble come so f'oon? ,1 hope he will not stay till night!" And by-and-bye an organ man, Who kd a monkey by a chain, Came past, and funny Jocko ran And climbed up to our window-pane, He coaxed in suc-h a funny way! And when I laughed aloud to see, Poor Master Grumble could not stay, For Grumble boy it really m* 1

_ø _a- FOR MATRON AND MAID. BRAINS AND TACT It would seem that belins and tact could not travel apart, but brains must b2 lop-sided and genius have its off side, for even the truly clever do and say utterly tactless things. One call be born tactful, and can also culti- vate the art. Mothers have often only them- selves to blame that their children grow up brusque and wanting in that deiicate thought of others' feelings that is called tact. If a child be allowed to comment on all that seems to him strange, if rude personalities are thought, "so precious" and a brutal frankness is encouraged, why bo surprised that he or she blunders through life, committing all sorts of stupidities? To be truly tactful presumes unselfishness; the girl who thinks of others is rarely heard to wound those others by things much better left unsaid-or undone. OLD PHOTO FRAMES. The sorry condition into which old photo- graph frames fall means the dustbin to many women. One girl has given her old frames a new lease of life by a clever arrangement of ribbon. She had a number of passe-partout frames, whose edges had become loose and ragged. In- stead of reframing or throwing them out, the girl took lengths of ribbon and pasted them neatly over tha passe-partout, leaving several loops at the comers, which she caught into tiny rosettes with gilt thread. Each frame took but a short time to renovate, the cost was alight, and the results artistic. SELF-PROBES. "Why cannot'I get along with my family" queries the. misunderstood daughter. "Am I selfish or given to shirking? Do I lay down the law and sulk when the rest do not think my way? Do I spend more than my share of the family income, and scold that I cannot have more?" These self-probes pay. Take a firm grip of your queries, and keep turning -until the real answer to your why of discontent is found. The deeper the probing the more hop-3 for speedy healing and-new strength. Your whys —if .of the compliment-fishing order-htlvo as much healing effect as unmedicated sugar pills. A'sked with a desire to know the worst. they are a tonic, bitter but helpful. A WOMAN SHOULD REMEMBER. That a tonic that is not patented, and is better than a doctor can prescribe, is fresh air day and night. That a little metaphysic now and then is needful to the wisest woman. That children are just as susceptible and far more thankful for "mothering" than dogs. That "The School- for Scandal" is not listed with the best educational institutes, and its diplomas are not therefore accepted in the sch-ool of life. That the reason women are more unhappy than men is that they persist in making moun- tains out of molehills, while men contentedly let the small world pass by. r AMONG THE FASHIONS. Fringe wide and narrow finishes off many tunics and overskirts. White floss silk is used largely in tha om- bro'dery of black and white trimmings.. Black lace over white is made most effective for smart evening gowns. The bodice in one piece from shoulder to hips is a French novelty. From below this corselet bodice the skirt is circular in cut. Postilion tabs drop down below the liieh waist-belt on some Empire gowns. Strings of jet beads a-ad ornaments of jet trim gowns of every cokuring. Olivette is a delightful grey green shade that attracts lovers of the artistic. Soft supple mixtures of satin and wool are charming fabrics that .we1.r vv--il. Whole blouses of gold net are trimmed with gold laco and ornaments to match. It is a dull eemi-tarnished gold that makes the m0"'t pleasing blouse. Sunshades of flower- tinted..r, ilk are often link- ed with rose petals." Many one-piece gowns as washing dresses fasten down the left side. White braid an braid-covered buttons make the effective trimming on many. The sleeve trimmed with wide bands of rib- bon finishing with very large square buckles is a novelty. SKIRT BRAIDS. It is safe to say that every woman who allows her eye to light on "skirt braids" will run down the little paragraph in the hope that something wonderful has been invented to out- last all previous efforts of the manufacturer. There is a small-sized fortune awaiting that happy individual who shall hit upon an inde- structible material for the purpose. One woman advises the use of a double fold of crossway broadcloth left over from the gown as a skirt protector. Any other closely woven cloth may be used in the same way, but material that is wiry or very much inclined to ravel round should not be considered; neither will its wearing quality recommend it. The material cut on the cross i" cut one and a half inches wide, is folded together, and slightly pressed. It is stitched to the lower part of the skirt, so that a oordlik,, edge is visible on the right edge, and the doubled raw edge ap- pearing on the wrong side is cat-stitched fast to the under-side of the facing or hem. HINTS FOR THE HOME. Polish for cleaning paint, lino, and leather suites.—Half a pint of linseed oil, half a pint of vinegar, half a pint of methylated spirits. Mix all well together before using. It is advisable to polish new boobs before wearing them, and in order that they take the polish well, it is advisable to rub them over with a cut lemon; leave them to dry, then polish well. To soften a pair of unlined leather shoes, soak them in warm water for about a quarter of an hour, let them drain for half an hour, then brush in castor oil on the outside; dry in the open air, not by the fire. An outward application for spots on the face. -Flower of sulphur mixed with a little milk sufficient to make a paste. Apply this to the spota every night and wash the face with oat- meal water instead of eoap, with splendid re suits. ,For cleaning silver and plate ware.—Scrape a little whiting into a saucer, and make damp with a little ammonia. Apply with a piece of flannel, and polish with a clean duster. It makes silver look equal to new, and lasts bright a, long time; How to Boil Salt Fieh.—Salt cod and ling: Soak 21b. of salt. fish for six hours, if not prev- iously soaked, or according to the cure put them in boiling water in which some parsnips have been previously boiled. Twenty minutes, if the fish is thick, will be sufficient. Serve with egg sauce. An Excellent Spring Tonic.-Take 4oz. of the best sawaparilla and the rinds of two lemons; boil this in a pint of water for half an hour; strain and add sufficient water to make when cold a pint. Then dissolve loz. of glauber salts in half a pint of boiling water and add it to the sarsaparilla. A tablespoonful taken twice a day is a splendid tonic for the complexion. Coooanut Fingers.—Cream together ilb. cas- tor sugar and, the same quantity of butter; beat into the mixture two eggs- Mix together {oz. baking powder, 6oz. coooanut, desiccated, and ilbl flour Mix all together, place in a large square sandwich tin, and bake in a moderate oven. When done, ice with cholocate icing and cut into fingers. A dainty sweet for afternoon tea. The Original Midland Recipe for Fig Pud- ding.—jib. of breadcrumbs,, ilb. of figs, 6oz. of Wown sugar; two eggs, a little nutmeg, ilb, of suet. a little milk, and 2oz. of flour. The figs and suet to be miheed very fine and well mixed with the breadcrumbs. flour, sugar, and nut- meg then stir all the ingrediente well to- gether,. and add two eggs. weU beaten, and a little milk; press the whole into a buttered mould, tie it over with a. thick cloth, and boil it,from two to three hours. Serve it with wine sauce, or without, as you please. Prevention of Insects.—Now is the time to look out for spiders' nests. They look like little balls of yellow fluff, and are generally to be found tucked away in obscure corners around the window frames or in the cornioe, or some- where high up. These need to b? scraped off with 1 flat bit of wood or old knife and burn- ed, otherwise a swarm of baby spiders will come to life shortly; in fact, in some of these n-36ts they will already be alive, and in this case the colour of the fluff will be greyish. Those who have been unfortunate enough to go into a house in which there are fleas in the floors can get rid of these pests by simply scrubbing the boards two or three times with salt water.

i FREE TO WOMaN. ANN BROWN'S FEMALE SYRUP has ob- tained wonderful results in the cure of all fe- male irregularities. I will send any woman a trial bottle free on receipt of two stamps to pay postage and packing, if "Merthyr Express' is mentioned. Do not neglect this offer, but write me to-day.-Ann Brown. 21, Station Parade, ( Southfields. Londen. L

r .LlrEI OY- J =- -d-> = WELCOME. Lifebuoy Soap is a welcome soap. It yields 41 return to its users in addition to cleanliness. It protects from disease and makes the home the dwelling-place of Health. It Cleans and Disinfects at the same time; does more than other soaps yet costs no mope. CLEANS. DISINFECTS. LEVER BROTHERS, LIMITED, PORT SUNLIGHT. ne name LEVER on soap is a Guarantee of Purity and Excsllence. L" I THOMAS^Avii^ THOMAS DAVIES, POSTING MASTER AND CAB PROPRIETOR 1 N thanking the public for the liberal patronage received from them for many years past » -he lieiiisr in succession to his father, the oldest established Cal. Proprietor in Mer- thyr—begs to invite special attention to his large aud complete facilities for Posting and in particular to his ample arrangements for Fnnirals. He has recently addrd to hia stock of hearses a new handsome Glass Panelled Hearse, and is now prepared to suddIv hearses for funerals from 10s. upwards. Arrangements can be made with parties at a distance either by letter or by personalis waiting upon them. Wedding Carriages kept. Brakes for pleasure parties upon tha most reasonable terms. ADDRESSES.— CASTLE HOTEL LIVERY STABLES, AND BUSH HOTEL LIVERY STABLES Merthyr Tydfil. jlir STURMEY-ARCHER 3-SPEED CYCLES ■jjraSr May be ■purchased from the manvfaciurersof the followitigfamous cycles, BfcjB many of whom slock speciAl Siurttey-Archer 3-Sfeed Models. VK KsW Alldays, Bradbury, Centaur, Calcott, Chase, Coventry Eagle, B 'swick, Bjfcjw Campion, Challenge, Coventry Royal, Chater-Lea, Enifeld, Elswick, B vis Gloria, Rothwell, Humber, Lea-Francis, Mead, Monopole, Mp Sunbeam, Premier, Olympic, Robin Hood, Raleigh, Rudgc- Jf n|& Whitworth, R. and P., Riley, Beau-Ideal, Singer, Sparkbrook, mm Wj&L Swift, Star, Triumph, Unity, Victoria, Wearside. m Say, STURMEY-ARCHER and you will make sure of getting W the genuine original yspeed gear instead of a cheap imitation. f Sturmey Archer Gears Ltd., Js? Nottingham. J> i ft Fitted by all -J M I f| f jjfPfL M manufacturers If II f I] miff IjTl B ate and uptdate local cycle "Makes dealers. Cycling Easy." T » wwl I 1 S/m THE CYCLE THAT G0E8 FARTHEST WITH LEA8T TROUBLE, LASTS LONGEST, AND GIVES THE GREATEST SATISFACTION. VV BICYCLES (for Fifty Years the World's Favourite and Best), ARE NOW OBTAINABLE EVERYWHERE, 4% ^jT" 10/- E.P. TERMS, or from £ 6-10-0 c.,„. V Models may fct seen and Lists obtained from MERTHYR TYDFIL J. Lewis, Cycie Agent, Merthyr Tydfil. jfiS E. Gould, West Street, Pontypool. W. F. Taylor, Motor & Cycle Agent, Miskin, Mountain Ash, SWIFT CYCLE CO., Ltd., COVENTRY. /fir LONDON 15, 16, Holborn Viaduct. LONDON 15, 16, Holborn Viaduct. dPh Ii 1 I :1 The rich flavour and aroma of gravy made with Gravo sal do credit to the best cook and the best tab I e. Sold in id. Packets and 41d., Glass jars. S*mfU /ret •« mentioning iNCOV TRABINC CO., Cardiff. Tile remarkable new black Enamel. Black for CRATES S BFLR BICYCLES, SEWINC MACHINES | RAILINGS, DOOR KNOCKERS, 9 If and every variety of ornamental ironwork. 9 81 STOVO dries absolutely hard with a 9 KJ magnificent glossy black surface like that of 9 S a newly stoved bicycle. Obtainable in tins 9 H at 2%d., 4d.t and 6d. each from all iron- 9 H mongers, colormen and large stores. M H Please ask for 8TOVO and see that it is in a I M decorated tin. —Who) esale only from the Manu- S H facturer—JAMES RUDMAN, Cambrian Color ■ Works, Bristol. "Warms and Cheers" j Try it "One taste is worth a chapter of talk." -*t II u lJjiatwiiLi.il [—■rwn—Blur

times I hate him. Don't you think he is a so- lemn, tiresome old creature? I don't believe he <vas ever a boy." She swept to another sub- ject. "You'll never stay here," she said, "it's a hateful place. Sometimes I wish I could set fire to the whole lot of it and burn it down and burn all the people in it, too—brutes! I loathe them That woman that I sent out just now, she's my maid, Crewe. She's the most hateful cat you can imagine, always spying round to eo down and tell stones about me in the kitchen. I know! She is always coming after me with 'Won't you let me do this, my lady. and won't you let me do that, and won't you let me order you some new gowns,. my lady,' and all the time she knows I know she 's just getting nt me." "I don't think you are nght to keep a wo- man about you who annoys you," said Ellen. "Oh, they all annoy me," said Lady Nor- chester, gloomily. "Look here, you'd better know the truth before we start together I'm no better than they are, that's why they hate me. When Harry married me I was just a common girl in the village, and they're not go- ing to put up with taking orders from me." Qmckly Ellen answered her "Oh! You are wrong! No matter whether you were born in a village or a castle you have your own dignity, and more than that you have the dignity of your husband to consider." "My husband," said Lady Norchester, with a bitter little laugh, a lot Harry cares." She had crouched herself up in an arm-chair, and sat with her elbows on her knees. "Do you think had he cared," she said, "he'd have gone away and left me—left me to be insulted and treated like a fool by all the brutes in this old house?" Suddenly (Ellen had quickly found that she was given to these sudden movements) she sprang to her feet. "You are tired, and you want something," she said, "have some champagne. I always keep (<hampagne up- stairs; it helps to drive away the blues some- times. Ellen caught her breath. "If I might have some tea, I—I am so fond of tea," she said, "and it always refreshes me "I think tea's dull stuff," said Lady Nor- chester; "but you shall have what you want, only I hope you're not going to be. a namby- pamby Sunday-school kind of person," she re- marked frankly, "because I hate and detest al] goody-goody people. We'd better know what we are to start with, then we'll save a lot of bother." "I hope you are not going to turn me away," said Ellen, with a brave smile, "you don't know how glad I was to come here; it is rather a hopeless businoM trying to find work. because rm not clever enough for most things which women have to do nowadays 1 and I love the country; it is so beautiful round here." "Oh! I'm not going to turn you away," said Lady Norchester, carelessly "Now, you've come, yon can stop. The house is big enough- we needn't see one another if we don't want." At that moment a tap came at. the door, and Varley's voice was heard out8ide. "Won't you come downstairs, and give me some tea? I must be off directly." Lady Norchester frowned; then she went across the room. "You can give Miss Milner tea," she said. "I'm not coming down. I'm not dressed. I suppose you'll be here again in a few days, just so that you can write and give an ac- count to Harry of all that's going on. You're left in charge, aren't you?" "I shall come down when you want me to come," Varley answered, quietly, "and if you don't want me I won't come." "Oh Come or don't come," Lady Norches- ter replied, "it is all the same to me. But. of course, you'll come," she added the next mo- ment, "because you've got to report how I'm behaving myself. I know that quite well!" Varley laughed. He was not hurt, by her rude words "Look here," be said, "be sociable; change your dress and come downstairs, there are several things I want to say to you, and then you ought to show Miss Milner some of the castle before it gets dark." Ellen had advanced across the room, and now stood close by the door. "Do come," she said, eagerly. Lady Norchester hesitated an instant, and then saId; "All right, you go down with Dick. I'll come." Ellen walked in silence beside Richard Var- ley along the corridor and down that magnifi- cent staircase once again. She dreaded he might ask her questions, but he did nothing of the sort; instead he talked all the time about Wynche; there was so much of interest. In the late Earl's time there had been a rather disastrous fire in a certain part of the building, and Varley showed Eller. where the renovation had been done, and how spendidly the old lines had been retained, and the old atmoa- phero treasured. Tea was prepared in a, very beautiful room on the entrance floor. "I hardly know why," Varley said, with a faint smile, the servants here always re- gard this room as my particular apartment; perhaps it is h nse there are so many books here. I don't it is ever used except when I come. I ho -• care to use it occasion- ally." Ellen smil "It will sci i," she said, "to choose w To this he "I want you i absolutely at home here I- have not had the best, start, Mir I beg of you not to be discourse f am not too sanguine, but I feel fs,cl!t good will come of your being here. You are young, but you have strength you have a great deal of character; there is much that you can do." "There is much that I should like to do," Ellen answered him in the same quiet way. "Time alone will show whether I have the power to be useful." "I am a great believer in the force of ex- ample," Varley said, and then he added hur- riedly, "you are the first person to be in in- timate contact with her, whose influence can really be of value to her. Later on I will give you the whole story. If there is much that shocks you. there is much that calls for your pity." After that they walked round the room, and Ellen looked at the wonderful old prints and the almost priceless books which were stacked in the various bookcases. Lady Norchester came in whilst they were engaged in this fashion. She looked less dis- hevelled indeed, as she drew nearer Ellen noticed that she had on a very handsome velvet gown. She noted, too, the beauty of the lines of Lady Norchester's figure. "Haven't you had your tea?" she exclaimed, and then she laughed. There was always a little bitter tone in her laughter. "Oh I see, Dick's been showing off the things as usual, he wanted to do that with me, but I wasn't go- ing to be bothered. Who wants a lot of silly old books. You're not going to drink tea. are you, Dick ? Why don't you have something stronger ? Varley answered her pleasantly, and officiat- ed for her at the tea-table with so much tact that he won Ellen's admiration. Her heart sank a little when she realised that he was going away. Although, of course, she had not for an instant supposed that he would be stay- ing at Wynche, his presence was so comforting, he made things so possible and even easy, that she heard of his departure with regret. It was evi- dent, however, that Lady Norchester was dis- posed to be very kind to her new companion. She made Ellen take off her hat and her coat, and she insisted on Varley plying the girl with cakes. The tea was not the best in the world, it was cold, and the arrangements of the tea- table were a little slovenly. The silver looked as if it would be all the better for a good hard rub. All those little details Ellen noted, and wondered with some trepidation if it would be possible for her to work an improvement here as well as in other ways. When the butler announced at the door that the motor was waiting to take Varley to tbe station, Lady Norchester gave him her hand with a fair show of cordiality. "Well, I suppose you must go," she said, "but you can come down again soon; there, that's on my invitation, and it's got nothing to do with Hafry. and his orders." "If I come," said Richard Varley, pressing her hand before he released it, "I shall cer- tainly come on your invitation." Then he laughed in his pleasant way. "The idea of Harry giving me orders you know is a little funny! It has generally been the other way about." "Well," said Lady Norchester, "if it was you that has had the bringing up of him I wonder you didn't do it better. Harry's no swell at manners." Varley and Ellen avoided looking at one an- other but the man felt as surely as though he had watched her that the girl winced, and as he said "good-bye" to her and looked at her delicate, wistful, charming face he had a pang of remorse. Had be done wisely in bring- ing this girl into this atmosphere of jarring elements, even of vulgarity? Would not her contact witth this turbulent spirit meant harm to herself? After all she was so young; there was about her that exquisiteness which is the heritage of such birth and breeding as hers. Inevitably she would be exposed to much that would be trying to her; she would have to know aqd realise things which should have had no place in her life. It was, however, too late to change matters now, or take her away." "Write to me," he .said under his breath. And he held her hand in his in a tight gTip just for an instant, and then he was gone. CHAPTER VIII. On his return to town Varley found a little note waiting for him. It had' been left by hand he quickly recognised the writing. Lady Evelyn Wynche was in the habit of sending him little notes every now and then. She wrote now to aSk him to dine with her mother and herself that night. It will be charitable of you if you will come, Dick (the little note said). Mother is fretting herself terribly about Harry. I don't know what she does not imagine is going to hap- pen. I can't console her. I do hope you are not engaged. Varley sent a message on the telephone to "v that he would be with the Dowager Lady Norchester at half-past eight. He would gladly have avoided this visit if it had been possible, but the affecttion he felt for Lord Norchester was shared fully by Lady Evelyn; moreover he was always eager to attempt to induce the mother to look upon matters a little less terri- bly if possible. His sympathies were neverthe- less very much with Norchester's mother; cer- tainly, Harry's marriage had been a bio- a r staggering blow It had fallen upon himself in a wholly unexpected manner. Somehow the thought of marriage and young- Norchester had never dawned in his mind. The boy was so young, it was almost impossible to picture him with a wife When the news had come of the irrevocable step which had been taken, Nor. chester's mother had not spared herself, and yet, poor lady, she had very little to reproach herself with, save perhaps a. lack of prudence and practical common sense. Had she smiled instead of storming at her boy's suddenly de- dared passion for Miriam Cottri<;Jge, the in- fatuation might have burnt itself out in a. natu- ral manner, but she had gone to work in just tho very way to fan the flame to its fiercest height, 8J1d to drive an impetuous boy into a most determined and independent position. Richard Varley had tenderly refrained from letting the mother know how unwise she had been; indeed, he had been almost ready to 8bed tears with her. His love for, and his pride in his young kinsman was such, that the reali- sation of this most disastrous marriage was to him something in the nature of a tragedy. He had been unfortunately abroad at the most vital moment; in truth, he had to rack his memory to call to mind this girl whom Norchester had married. Vaguely he remembered hearing of a school of lace-making which Lady Norchester had started in the village (an attempt to re- vive an old industry); and he also remember- ed hearing about a certain girl called Cott- ridge who had been more or less adopted by Lady Norchester. taken from a very miserable and undesirable home, and given a very fair, amount of education, finally being installed in this school of lace-making where her talents were profitably employed. It had been Lady Evelyn's chatter which had given him so much information. Once, too, when he had been down for a week-end at Wynche. he remembered that he had met an extraordinarily handsome girl when he had been walking with Lady Evelyn in the grounds, and she had told him thai this girl was Miriam Cottridge. The matter was of so little moment. however, at once, that Norchester had been Richard Varley's mind, therefore when he heard on his return to England that Lord Nor- chester had run away with this girl, Cottridge, and that he had married her, he was a.<;tounded, and his indignation and regret were every whit as keen as that which the mother felt. He realised, however, at once that Norchester had been driven into a comer, and he never ceased to be sorry that he bad not been on the spot himself to have brought the power of his coun- sel to bear on a. very delicate and dangerous situation. He found himself immediately plung- ed into the Iomestic war. Lady Norchester, the elder, withdrew from Wynche Castle, and declared passionately that she would never see her son ijgain. There were many others to whom Lord Nor- chester could have turoed, but he only wanted Richard Varley. Perhaps even then in the very first moment of his triumph of indepen- dence. he felt what a mistake he had made. At any rate, he turned to Varley spontaneously, and the elder man did not disappoint him. He had answered that summons at once. The young couple were in London staying at an hotel. The meeting between Varley and Lord Norchester had been commonplace enough. They had merely shaken one another bv the hand and uttered a few conventionali- ties. But the meeting with Lady Norchester had been unconventional. It must truly be said that when he saw her for the first time Varley had been amazed at her beauty; in an instant Norchester's folly was explained. When he had passed her in the country roads he had been dimly conscious of an unusual per- sonality but that cursory glance had not re- vealed to him the really extraordinary physi- cal attractions of Miriam and the thing which drew Varley more surely to her than anything else was the fact that she was wretched It was visible to him in the sullen restraint of her expression, in the hard curl of her proud lips; he was convinced that all the accusa- tions of intrigue, of common manoeuvres which the other Lady Norchester bad perhaps very naturally ascribed to this girl, had had no place with Miriam. She had married her husband, not with any mercenary intention, not for any other reason, indeed, save that she loved him passionately. His rank, his place in the world, his possessions would not have urged her to do that, which she had done. She had run away at his bidding because she adored him; and the knowledge which had been swift in coming, that she had done him an injury by becoming his wife was little less than agony to her In that very first interview Varley had been given the key note of the woman's character, and in conse- quence after events, however deplorable, had been to him so comprehensible, so natural, Richard Varley alone, out of all the many Nor- chester connections and relations, showed sym- pathy to the now Lady Norchester, and was the only one who went to Wynche, and was per- mitted friendship with her. The many painful scenes which passed be- tween Lord Norchester and his mother were matters which Varley only heard about, al- though in her turn the dowager Lady Nor- chester flung herself heavily upon him for sym- pathy. All that a. tactful man, could do, Varley did, to try and smooth out the terrible tangle, but be had to deal with not only the stubborn proud resistance of Lord Norchester's mother, he had to deal with an equally proud nature in Lord Norchester's wife. The attempt to bring these two women together was absolutely im- possible, and Varley relinquished it almost im- mediately. Lord Norchester would not give in so quickly, with the result tbat he mwe tbe breach even wider than it had been. Some- times Richard Varley had tried to preach pa- tience and wisdom to the young roan. "You must give your mother a little time," he had said. "Put yourself into her place; remember what you nave been to her—how proud she is of you. Try and realise the dreams that she must have had for your future, "I "I think mother and her class talk an awful lot of rot!" Norchester had answered, pas- sionately. "After all, what has she to say against Miriam, except that her birth is sup- posed oot to be as good as hers? Birth! Well you know, Dick, we Norchesters are descended from a lot of marauders and thieves. I don't think there is a pin to choose between some of my axicestors and Miriam's father, poacher and drunkard as he is! We think an awful lot of our very long pedigree, but if you work the thing down to a practical basis, I don', see what we have got to be proud of. If Miriam had been adopted by someone, and had been introduced to mother conventionally, she wouldn't have inquired who the girl's father was, or what he 1 dia." "Circumstances alter cases," Varley had re- plied to this; "and. moreover, I think you are a little hard on your ancestors, Harry. Some of them, and we needn't go back very far, were a long way removed from the class of individual you describe. My dear boy, you have to face the truth—your marriage, though it may be, please God, a happy one, has come as a great shock to your mother. Bear with her; my advice to you is not to go and see her till things have settled down." That's all very well," Norchester had said to this; and his tone had been gloomy: "but I am in a jolly difficult position. I don't want Miriam to fret her heart out because my mother chooses to be so cruel. I must try and make an effort for my wife's sake." And as he dressed on this evening on his re- turn from W yncbe, Richard Varley pondered on all the efforts which his young kinsman had made, and how finally Norchester had realised that the task he bad undertaken was a wholly impossible one. The story of the marriage was now an old one. Three years had elapsed since Norchester's family in particular and society in general had been startled by the news that be had chosen a wife. His mother had never set foot in Wynche Castle since that day; tind the life lived by e young couple was one which made Varley 8 heart ache. And yet, despite the fact that everything seemed against them, Varley could not help cherishing a hope that some day they might settle down into a better groove. There were so many good qualities in Nor- chester; there wAs equally fine stuff in Miri- am. He knew that she had shown evidence of possessing unusual intelligence, and she had eagerly desired to be educated. Her record as a girl was one of which she could justly be proud. It would be hard, indeed, if such a wo- man could not rise superior to the difficulties of her position, great as they undoubtedly were. "She had deliberately flung herself against all the better inclinations of her nature," Var- ley said to himself as he drove to his dinner. "Who knows if with such an influence as this girl's constantly about her she will not awaken to a sense of the wrong she has been doing to herself, and turn gradually to those things which she has abandoned. I must talk freely to Evelyn to-night. For Harry's sake his sister would do almost everything, and if only it could be possible for Evelyn to show some friendship to that poor lonely creature, the future might be altogether different. At any rate, the fact that Sir Patrick Milner's daugh- ter is now staying at Wynche as Miriam's chosen companion must make an impression on Harry's mother, as being evidence indeed that Miriam is anxious to imrpove herself and so take up her duties in proper fashion. Lady Evelyn was alone in the big gloomy drawing-room when Mr. Varley was announc- ed. "You are so good, Dick," she said, as she came forward to greet him. "I am half afraid you had other engagements which you have put on one side to come here." "As a matter of fact I was going to dine at the club. And you know I am always glad to come when you want me." Lady Evelyn sighed a little. She was extremely pretty very tall, almost too tall, and bore a marked resemblance to her brother. She was quite young, and had onlv left the schoolroom tbe year before. so dreadfully dull with us," she said, "mother is too upset to go anywhere or have anybody here." "A little rough on vou, eh?" queried Varley with his pleasant smile. Lady Evelyn confessed frankly she was a lit- tle sorry for herself "It's all very well for Harry to rush away and forget all the trouble he has made, but he might think of poor me!" She sighed a little ruefully. "Dear Harry. I was so sorry for him when he came to say 'good-bye.' J sup- pose life must have been too terrible at, Wynche lately, and he simply had to go." "1 am just up from Wynche," snid Vat ley, "and my sympathies are very much with Har- r ry's wife. Evelyn, you ought to be sorry for Miriam. She i« so unhappy" t Lady Evelyn flung out her pretty white hands. "What can I do, Dick? Perhaps I am a little sorry for Miriam. I never hated her as mother did and does. But I am no use; I can't do anything" "Yau can do your share." Varley spoke almost curtly, and Lady Evelyn looked at him wistfully. She had been Almost too young to grasp the full significance of the mistake her brother had made in his marriage, but she suffered very greatly because Harry had been the idol of her childhood, and it was very terrible to her to be separated from him. Again, the up- heaval of alt those things which had been about her ever since she could remember had depress- cd the She wept bitterly at leaving Wynche, but Lady Evelyn very quickly had to learn the lesson of self-repression and sacrifice. Her own feelings had to be subordinated to her mother's, and Lady Norchester scarcely realised what demands she made upon her daughter. Richard Varley was more than sorry for Lady Evelyn; he regretted the depressing atmosphere in which she lived. To him she was always the lovely child who had danced like a spirit at Wynche, and had been the joy and inspiration of her father's life. It was for her sake that he came so often to see Elizabeth, Lady Norchester. He was always trying to bring about some change for Lady Evelyn. Her mother had practically retired from social life; nursing her resentful grief over her boy's marriage she forgot, the claims of her daugh- ter. And Lady Evelyn never put forward those claims. She was not very worldly and could find happiness in small things. It would, perhaps, have astonished Varley very con- siderably i r he could have realised that his visits const.ituted the greatest of all thes* small things. (To be continued.)