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CHAPTER IX.â€"Continuod. 'Audmy read the note with neon- bemptuous smile, no faint glimmering of we truth came to herâ€"no suspicion. Hoye cam-e back with the daylight. Why need she have suffered such pain and fright? All would be well; her husband stood apart from other men. Shd knew by the purity and stainless honor of his life that there was no W! to fear him. Yet why did her heart beat fast, why did every nerve thrill, why was her face so white, why did the breath come in thick, hot gasps from her lips, what was this awful sense of foreboding? 11n- mziid looked surprised on finding her leauiil’nl young mistress up and dressed. “Rose." said Lady Villiers, "I am g0- ing out. I want a cabâ€"I will not take the carriageâ€"order a cab, and dress yourself to go with me.” In a few minutes' time Lady Villiers and her maid were on their way to the city. Her purpose was not so easily accompiished as she lbad imagined-â€" there were many delaysâ€"she had to drive from one place to another; but at last she succeeded, and held in her hands a capy of the Times for Thurs- day, the 17th of April, five years be- fore. She looked at the paper as she held it folded in her handsâ€"what did it contain? “I ha've found what. I wanted. Rose,” the said. to her maid; "we will hurry back home.” She would not open the folded sheets; whatever they contained. she must be alone when she read them. In another half hour she and her maid were at home. It was nearly noon then, and Sir Roche, after leaving a little note for his wife. had gone out --he would return to luncheon at two. Audrey real the note. “How dearly he loves me!" was the. thought that nasaed through her mind as she went one more to the solitude of her own room. She controlled her impatience while Rose took off the plain walking dress and. brought her her pretty dressing- gown. The malid brushed out the long. bright hair. and left it lying like a glittering veil on her mistress’ should- ers; then she drew the easy chair near to the open window, and left Lady Vil- liers to rest, little drealming how im- patiently she wished her gone. . The door closed. ‘nd she was alone’ at last. with the newspaper in her hands. She saw the case at once; it was second on the list. “VILLIERS v. DIGHTON.” "The labt hearing of this celebrated one took place toâ€"day. Sir Roche Vil- iiers was examined. Witnesses proved that Elod'ie, Lady Villiers, left Lon- don on the evening of February 21 with the (yo-respondent. Captain Arch- er Dightovn. There was no defense. The divorce was granted. Captain Archer Dighton was condemned to pay five thousand pounds damages and It. seemed long before the sun shone through the windowsâ€"she rose at once when she saw the first beams. She had but ,one thought in her mind. and that. was to get a copy of the Times of April 17. 18â€", as soon as possible. ' ALL Her . 'vw Lower down in the same column was! a. paragraph which ran as follows: ”ROMANCE IN HIGH LIFE." “None of our readers will be sur- mised to hear that Sir Roche Villiers s succeeded in obtaining a divorce from his wife. The unfortunate lady whose name has lately become so no- torious was young, beautiful and had been one of the leaders of fashion. Cap- tain Archer Digh-ton has been condemn- ed to pay five thousand pounds dam- ages. This unhappy affair has created a great sensation in London. Sir Roche Villier-s haul not long succeeded tothe barony of King’s \Vynne and. the Rowan estates. When will dawn a. brighter day for the manners and morale of Old England i” As she read the words it seemed to her that all the life was dying slow- ly from her. She felt the light depart from her eyes, the stremth from her limbs; the paper fell from her trembl- lm bands onto the floor; she sank back with a' low cry as from the lips of a (Wine: mu. she lay quite nation's-as and silent. the sun shining fl her face. the winds breathing over h. while in was unconscious of every- It, whi How .v long she remained so she never . When she recovered conscious- om by one. like the sharp cuts of there cqme back to. her the A PRECIOUS PEARL shone had happened had seemed nothing. Was iwhat she had read the cause of the {Letsoms avoiding bier, of Lady More- . ton'a speaking of some of her neighbors ias religious peOpIe, of her never hav- ' ing been to court? A hundred little . Circumstances, all confirming what she had read, came back to herâ€"the closed rooms at Rowan, the song with the name of Elodie upon it which her husp band “had destroyed so fiercely, the 2 words he had said to her, when he first ;wooed her, about the treachery of one ?Whom he had trusted. 'V “V“ ”V nuns-~â€" vâ€" She fell upon her knees with a, bit- ter cry. The report must be true-â€" everything corroborated it. Then she heard Sir Roche’s step in the hall. He was singing softly to himself the re- frain of Some love song. He went into the library, and as he closed the door the sound of his voice ceased. “I must go to him.” she said to him- self. ' ,“I must ask him about it, I must know the truth. I must go at once or_ I shall go mad.” "Is it true that five years ago you had a young Wife whom you called ‘E‘lodie ?"' “It is quite true, my darling, butâ€"" She held up her hand with a gesture for silenceâ€" on imperious, graceful gesture which he could not resist. He was silent. “Did you really marry her as you married me? Was it a lawful, legal, honorable marriage before God and man?" "It was," he replied. ”She was your wife. She loved you. you loved her. Your marriage was legal, honorableâ€"you admit all this 2" “Yes; but listen, Andre â€"-â€"” “Let me speak first. If this be trueâ€" (ivh, Heaven» Rocheâ€"tell me what am _?n She went to the library and opened the door. Sir Roohe was writing. He looked up with 9. smile as she entered. but the smile disappeared when he saw the unutterable woe in the dark eyes. the trembling lips on which all sound seemed to die away. He rose and went to her. "Audrey, my darling," he said, “what is the matter 9" “Yes, it is qdite true,“ he answered. “bu_t why need it trouble you ?” “Read this " she sald, “and tell me if it be true”. low that it startled him. He looked at the newspaper Al»! there was no need to ask again if it were true or not, no need for words! He read the first. few limes. and his face grew as white as her own. "Is it true ?" she asked. He was silent for a minute, looking with wistful eyes into her own; then he gpoke calmly, clearly. “You an my dear and honored wife." he cried. “Nay, that is impossible. A man can not have two wives. and you had a wife living when you married me. ” “I deny it. 1 had no wife. I was free to marry as you yourself." "\Vho, then, was Elmi'ie 3" she asked: “She was my wife, but. the law had freed me from herâ€"the law had freed me. freed her." “What, law 7" she asked, slowly. "The law of the lamdâ€"the law that steps in to save men and women from being driven mad.” She placed the newspaper in his hands. "It could mot. Rouble." she said, with the calmness of despair. “There is no yoyv§osolpmn a_s_t‘he marriage vow. 1t is taken before Heaven, and death only can give relief. No man, no human power can step in and put asunder those whom God hath joined together.” She shipped, for the werds died on her Lips. He looked at her with infinite pity and kindness. “You. are mistaken, Audrey," he said. “The human. law does step in and free those who haVe been joined by a solemn vow." “It cannotâ€"at least, that is my be- lief. The words of the marriage ser- vice are "until death do us part.’ ; Death has not parted you from Elodie, i the“ woman you married." She looked up at. him with a strange expression. “Is she still living. Roch." she ‘13de sudfleniy. “What am I in the eyes of Heaven 2’" she asked. “The name,” he replied. “Nay, that cannot be. It 1.3 the same Heaven. you called to witness the fact that you took Elodie as you wife until death should part you. Death has not parted. you; therefore before Heaven, you are not free, and she is still your wife." “You have been. so quietly and so strictly brought up, Audrey," he said, “you are harde qu_al'ifi_ed to judge.” ll? ‘hat is reason, " she answered, “the highest, wisest, best." “My dearest Audrey. you must lis- tegnfo {git-son," he began. She wrung Her- hands witfinacl'ittle (‘ry_th51t touched his heart. â€"-that my man having a wife Irving can marry anotherâ€"that no human power can; free you from an oath taken before Godâ€"that no law can either supersede or set aside the law of God." “My bringing 11:) makes but little differenrce; there is but one rule for right or wrong. No false arguments, no sophistries, can alter my Opinion; and, fixed and unalterable, it is this ”But, Audreyâ€"dm'iy. you must listen, dearâ€"there are exceptions to all rules. There are cases where the law most, wisely and rightly steps in and trees a man from the woman who has ‘dis- honored him.” _' “That may be. The law may in one sense free himâ€"may punish her; but she is his wife usmtil daath parts them. He may send. her away. but he cannot mgrry smthbrâ€"thst would. make a daJ Wunr â€"â€" ~â€" "I prayed {hat you might never know it, Audrey. I sent away every old ser- vant from Rowan except two. I hap- ed. you would never know it." “You should have told me." she said, sadly. “It would have been so much “Part!" he cried. "Oh, surely, my darling, you cannot mean that? We must not partâ€"Mrs cannot part!” “I am not your wife." she said, sim- ply. “I cannot remain here." He drew nearer to her. "You will drive me mad!" he cried. “If I lose you, 1 shall lose my hope of earth and heaven."_ Vu-“ w 'â€" “You hiv; Emilie a terrible mistake,” she said faintly. “You have placed me in a false pwitipn;_yon_ havegnade me U“- v.0 wâ€"vâ€" “And if; I stay I shall lose every home of heaven." she said. "My darling, you cannot mean it. Why should you be so terribly hard and cruel to me when I have done no- thing but love you ?" 0 A,‘.__ ll In -wm'v -_'vvâ€"â€" seem to do willineg that which I de- test and abhor. If: it break my heart to go, I should go. Knowing what I know. I cannot remain another hour under this roof. I am in another wo- man's place; I hear another woman's name; I hold the heart of another wo- man’s husband. Oh, may heaven par- don: me! I did not know it i” . “Audrey, you must Listen!" he cried. . She stood before him, ipale, erect, with the look on her face that a paint- er would give to a martyr. T “No," she said, “it is better that I should not listen. I love you very dearlyâ€"I might be tempted to believe what you said; and 1 must not. I will notâ€"my own conscience tells me what is right. I know the sanctity of mar- riage. I know the solemnity of the mar- riage vowâ€"I would rather not listen. \Vords are apeoious enough, but they can never make wrong right.” “Audrey, listen to the story of my marriage. When you have heard it, I will abide by your judgment; and that will be in my favor, I am sure. Sit down, darling, and‘listen.” story. u-hevbid'EQ1â€"1â€"itâ€"ai‘gfl the little couch, and knelt, before her while he told her his “You will judge me less harshly when you have heard all," he said. "I met El'odie Danefield when I was twen- ty years old. She was young, very beautiful, gay, animated. and full of wit and talent. She was living with her aunt. Lady Danefield, who was an old friend of my mother'sâ€"that was how I came to know her. She had no fortune, and from the first moment that Lady Danefield had seen us to- gether she had settled in her own mind. that we were to marry. E'lodie was very beautiful, but nothing about her was so striking as her gaiety â€"- she was a mistress in the art of amus- ing others. That first drew'. my atten- tion to her. 'I‘ime flew when I was with her. I do not: want to tire, you, Audrey, with details. The plain truth of the matter isâ€"I loved! Elodie, while “-w‘ " she cared less for me! than she did for Cblhtain Archer Dighton. She loved him best; but he was poor and I was rich. I have often thought that, left to herself, she would have married lligliton, but Lady Danefield was al- ways impressing upon her what a grand thing it would he to be Lady Villiers. She gave her no peace» no rest; added to'which Elodie herself was ambitious. Dighton at that time was poor and without a prospect of ever. being any- thing else. Poor child, if she had come to me. and said, ‘I love Archer Dighton best, but 1 cannot marry him because he has no money,’ I should have re- spected her; I would have done any- thing to help them; but she. was not [rankâ€"she married me for my money and title, knowing well in her heart that she loved Dighton best- I had never been jealous of him before mar- riage, and l was not! likely to be so lafterward. \Ve were very happy for a few months; it was a fool’s paradise, l grant, but as I did not know it, W hat did it matter? My wifeâ€"â€".” He. noticed how Audrey shrank from the words, and he looked at her with a, pleading wistfulness hard to hear. \ “My wife,” he resumed, “was very much liked. we came to London, and she was soon foremost among the lead- ers of fashion. Society spoiled her. Her least word was considered a prod- igy of wit, her repartees were repeat- ed, her laughing, beautiful face was welcomed everywflwreâ€"there was no one more. nonular in all London. lt'was then that Captain Dighton succeeded to a large fortune and came to town. He began to follow my wife at halls, parties, fetes, in the park, in the Bow .”everywhere, he was at her side. At iirst I thought nothing of it. It seemed absurd to be jealous of an old friend of Elodie’s. I took. no notice of it until I saw peelile smile significant- ly when they were together, until I found out that whoever invited Elodie invited Archer Dighton also. My blood boiled when I saw those significant looks and smiles. Still, I . was gentle with her, Audrey; she was young and I' loved her. Atfirst I tried to change the state of affairs by keeping near her and declining the attentions of Captain Dighton. It was of; no avail. They were much cleverer than! I at ruses of all kinds. I determined at last to Speak to my; wife, to tell her that she was on the‘ highroad to dan- “o'er, that I_ was annoyed by the com- ments I heard, and that) she must be I more on her guard with Amber Bigh- “Heaven known Audrey, I wugqn. CHAPTER X. tale and patient enough with her. I! could not have been kinder, but she? was film-ions. She would not listen. She declared that she would talk‘ to Cap- tain Dighton when and as she likedâ€" that the world might laugh as it would; she did not care -- she would brook no interference. I call' Heaven to witness. Audrey, that l was kind and gentle. Things went on from had to worse, and again I was compelled to speak to her. This time she was more indignant, and she was foolish enough to tell me that she never loved me, but had always cared for Archer Dighton. She was unwise enough .to taunt me with the fact. She said many things that would have been better left unsaid. After that she openly defied me. She spent more time than ever with Captain Dighbon. “Still I did not deepair. I said to myself that she was so young and easily influenced; I would not lose my- pati- ence. I tried to surround her with people from whom she could learn noth- ing but good. And at length I Spoke to Captain Dighton. He received my remonstrances with the cool polish‘ of a man of the world.. thanked me, and book no more notice of them. After that one or two of my friends spoke to me about my wife in' a manner' that by some means or another the scandal must he ended at once. If Elodie would not listen to reason, then I must take her away from London. “One nght we were engaged to go to a. ball at the Duchess of Quorn’s â€"a grand hall to which: half the elite of London had been invited. As we drove to Quorn House I determined to he very patient and gentle with Elo- die. I knew that so, many of her friends and mine would be present that I was anxious to avoid flirther scan- dal. I kissed her and said: “‘Elodie, you will be very good and prudent toâ€"night, will you not?’ "She looked up at me with a bright gleam of defiance in her eyes. “ ‘I shall do just as I please, Roche,’ she answered. ‘If I decide to talk all night with Captain Dighton, .I shall do so.’ “- ~v- “ ‘You will do nothing, that is im- prudent, I hope, Elodie,’ I said. “You see 1 was patient and forbear- ing unto the very last. Blodie was certainly the loveliest. woman present in the ballroom. I always enjoyed the admiration she excited; but on this ev- ening, she made a. greater sensation than ever. Audrey, she would dance with no one, talk with no one but Captain Dighton. I heard the Duke of Crofton ask her to dance with him. She pleaded an engagement, and waltz- ed with Archer Dightoq. Even: then I tried my best, Heaven! knows, to cover her imprudence, but she left me with a defiant smile, and went into the conservatory with the cap- “It was the Duchess of Quorn who put the finishing stroke to my anxiety. She came to me in; her kind feshlon: “‘My dear Sir Roche, Elodie ls young,’ she said, ‘and, like many of our young matrons, very thoughtless; would it not be quite, as well to give her a hint that it is not quite pru- dent to linger so long in the veneer- vatory? \Ve know, of course, there '“VVJJ- v- ‘- is no hlarne to be 'attached to her, but it would he as well for you to give her a hint.’ ‘ “I thanked her grace and went in- to the conservatory. The sight. that met my eyes was ndt a pleasant, one, My wife was seated amid the ferns and flowers, and Captain Archer Digh- ton was bending over her chair; she was listening to him with a smile. and a blowh. ‘ cold.’ 'â€" v'ww. __. “‘Elodie,’ I said, gently. ‘youfi have been here so long, you; will take vv.“' "She looked up into her companion ’5 face. ~ “'I promised you ’the next dance, Captain Dighton,’ she said, 'and [am ready to keep my promise} 1...1_ “nâ€" .v'téfieVQOâ€"fiâ€"(tvfiséiéud - neither 1001: nor word to me. I knew that the scandal would be increased if she began to dance with him again. L‘ went up to her. DIVI- 0 “‘Let me have the pleasure of tak- ing you back into the ballroom, Elo- (l.ie,’ I said. 'I am. quite sure that Captain Dighton will excuse me when I’ tell him that I have something very important to say to yoru.’ “He bowed, and left us. In brief, stern words, I told my wife what peoâ€" ple were saying about her. She look- ed up' at me, with a yvhite. set. face. “‘I told you that I should please = but. the Copper Horse Take you as myself,’ she cried, ‘Let me pass.’ «,fur as the Copper '03:; and hack sir. “I saw her in all. the. insolenb splen- f the lo:-al flyman or (ah-driver [imposes dor of her beauty, walla through the to every tour'wt who comes to Wind- conservatory. I caught anothergsor, glimpse of her an hour later. She was; One Day Queen Victoria “as en- waltzing with Archer Dighton. I “118" tertaining a great Englishnianâ€" the powerless. I could not make a ‘scene great man's name is not mentioned... in the ballroom. A’udrey, thet night who in the ‘afteirnoon had walked she fled with him. 'At what time they ‘ from the castle to Cumberland Lodge. left Quorn House no one knew. .Shej At dinner the Queen. always full of sent me a. note from: London Bridge ‘ gravioue solicitude for the comfort. of Station, but it. merely said: ;her guests. said to this gentleman: "'1 always liked Dighton best, and; I hope you were not tired by your now I am with him.’ long walk. To be Continued. 911 {1.9} at all. thank you. maiam. I Returned Touristâ€"And so, during my long stay abroad, Miss Pinkie got marriedâ€"six months ago, too. I must call to offer my congratuflations. What is her name now?__. _ h. The Belgian Government offers a prize of 010.000 to any one who will discover a. ghemipal ghat will take the matter? In "a 111‘! .Av Enter T-éei-{ridhtâ€"Plea.se, mum, Mrs. Bi'mks wants to know the address of some good locksmith. Hostessâ€"“With pleasure. \K'hat isthe BELATED CONGRATULATIONS. \V’E ALL HAVE OUR BURDENS The pressure. of the atmosphere on man of ordnnary size amounts to nut 14 tdnl. MONEY FOR SOMEBODYNV }? :whizeiâ€"fihosphorus in match- that I should please “ What’s n.1,. Benny I” “ Oh, It’- th'e Part of the cowuvo eat before the crows up." “Hopperton says ha won’t mrr! wuypne but a widow-3" “I boy. he wdn ’t marry mino. Sheâ€"“Why is it called the ‘ailvor moon?” Heâ€"“Bocause it comes in halves and quarters, I suppose." Military Complimentâ€"Lieutenant 4- “Good evening, miss. You look 94 ”8" ment of rose-buds to-night.” When we discover the faults. of our friends we are happy; when we discover the faults of our friends without be- ing happy, we are great. Stokesâ€"“Is your son fond of golf?" Pogisâ€""Fond of it? I should say ha was. Why, the young rascal actually plays it.” "She seems to be lacking in self- confidence." "She.is shockingly 30' Why, she doesn’t believe she" can plan a. house better than an architect.” “Sgnithers is positively the most in- hospltable man 1 ever saw." “Yes. 1 power knew him even tq‘ entertain an Ideaf’ Cruel Manâ€"The \Vifeâ€" “I think the baby’s teeth are troubling him." Th0 Husbandâ€" "Good! I hate to think of the poor little fellow crying for nothing.” Friendâ€"“\Vhat did I see? Not a single bouquet at your debut 1" “Oh, that fool of a gardener didn’t understand me, and sent them‘ to my house." “He devoted his immense fortune t0 the perpetuation of his memory.” "You don’t say 90?" “Yes, he left it in such shape that every dollar will be litigatedpe over ” An Unpromising Outlook.- "It in Dredlcted that the battles of the fu- ture will be fought 1n the air. " "That you ’t work; no man can he heroic m battle unless he can get behind a tree.” "1 am afraid that actors sometimes deceive us about the salaries they get," remarked the mild-mannered citi- zen. “ N0,” replied the keen' oh- aerver; "they may think they do. but they don’t." “'asn't Blissâ€"““711.“ I know abogt riding a wheel,” said the srorcher, ““ould fill a hook.” “Yes," said the policeman who had gathered him In, "and what you don't know about. it would soon fill the morgue." Why Indeed! -â€"Moneyworth â€"- “Why will the newspapers publish columns of the revolting details of murders! Here I've wasted two good hours read- ing through this mm oi trash thout the last one.” Reporterâ€"“You any you lynched that negro last night. on. general sus- picion?” Georgia Citizen - “Egg- zactly, nub; his chil’ren‘ wuz 311 down wid chicken-pox, an’ he couldn't givc no Bahthfactory enqflanation how they Mught it, suh." . Laudladyâ€"“Thc price of this room is thirty marks. \Vill thav suit you?’ Studentâ€""Perfectly.” Landlndy â€"- “Then you can’t have it A man wha meekly accept; such an oxorlitant price, obviously does not intend. tepay his bill.” What Did He Mean?‘-â€" Neighbor -â€" “Good morning. Mr. Blank." Mr. Blankâ€""Good morning, sir." Neigh- borâ€"“How is Mrs. Blank this morn. ing?” Blankâ€"“The doctor tells ma ' Iâ€"I she is at death’s door, and I‘m afraid he won’t ho able to pull be! through." "And,” were the concluding words of the professor’s lovture to the medi- cal studonts. ”do not promise L00 much. I knew a physician! of roal ability who promised a patient whose 1688 he had just amputated, that he would have him on his feet within two weeks." Th'e Trip Postponedâ€" " Silas. we can’t take your um|.>rella to EurOpe with us," said old Mrs. Stiggins. "The advertisement says that no cotton will be carried on the passengei steam- ers.” "Then we ’1! stay at! home," said Silas. " ‘I ain’t a- -goin’ 3(1‘088 any- thing as wet as the Atlantic Ocean without my umbrella." At the end of the Long Walk. at. Windsor, there is an equestrian statue of George III., which isso little respect- ed that it is never called anything. but. the Copper Horse Take you as far as the COpper '03:; and hack air. the [oval Hyman or (ahâ€"driver preposes to every tourist who comes to Wind~ Is there no balm in Gilead? cried tho preacher. A veil is drawn WI») the British jour- nal over what followed. 11 the hero of the 1m 1dent “are as may he 1ufe1 red from some other incidents iatml3 dia- clwoaed the. late Lord 'l‘ienmson. it is to be doubted if the apologies which followed were very abject ’ The druggist in. the front pew moved unpgaily‘ Man}. rubbed “.5 _eyes. .All out of it at present. he murmured. gently. but, I can give you something just. ails good. YAfterwu‘d he slept more Mull: 011 not at all. thank you. ma'um. I got, a lift as far back as the Copper Horse. As [at as what? asked the. Queen, in astonistbme nut. Oh. the Copper Horse, at the and of the Long \Valk. "The (‘Oppér Horse! exclaimed the Queen. That's not a copper home. That's my grandfather! M'INTER \VBINKLIS. THE COPPER 'OSS. ANXIOUS TO PLEASE. 8L bl 01 ju ‘ per‘wtl 81 on its side will aim." W iron r81 00H luff wen in H gro and PO" er 1'11 flue!) third th um M It 18$ IV ha van )D ('l qua EN) In ounl Ut' Ll 13