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4-o-»-c-*<>-*-o-f<>^-o-»-o-»-o-fo-*-o -♦K>-fO-*-0 â- â™¦0-«040-*04-OX>f O^-OO DARE HE? OR, A SAD LIFE STORY ^<>>0-«K>->O-«<>4<>-*-0-fO4<>4-CMH><)4<>^O-*-04-0>O-^<>-*<>-*K>«K>4<>> • CilAPFEn V. Tlicro Is no particular reason why Burciiyiiu shuulii nol iinpurl to liis cuia- paiiiun wliul lie knowsâ€" uller all it is iiol v'-'iy inucii-aboul llicir two country women. Upon reflection he hud told liiMisolf lliis, and conquered a re- luctance, llujl lie caniiut account for, to nieiitioiiing their nunie; and to relating the story of those shadowy idyllic two inoiilliii of his life, which foiiu nil of it, llial has ever come into contact witli theirs. So thai by the limeâ€" some thirty-six hours laterâ€" wticn they rcacli l'*lorence, tlio younger man is in pos- «ossion of as inucti inforniation about Uie objects of ttifir common interest, us it ia in the power of the elder one to iiiipurt. 'I'o neither of Ihcm, meanwhile, Is any Bccond glimpse vouclisafLxl of ttiose ol> Jects, eagerlyâ€" tliough witti diffcrtnl de- grees of ovcrtness in that eagernessâ€" jls they both look out for them among the lUKgugc-pilcs and the twecd-clad Eng- glkh luilics at the station. It hud been the intention of Burgoyne that he and his fiieiid should put up ut the same hold OS that inhubittd by his betrothed and her lainily; but Jinding llial it is full, he enters rooms at tho Minerva, and in (lie fallen dusk of a rnlher chill epiing niglil, finds himself traversing the slioit distance Uvui the railway to tJlut hotel. As lie and Gyng sit over their coffee after di;uicr in the salle a manger, al- most ils only Icnenis at that late hour, the younger man remarks matler-of- faclly, us if staling a propasition almost too obvious to 1)6 worth uttering - "1 suppose you ai-e oXf to the Anglo- American now." "I think not," replies Jim slowly; "it is past ten, you see, and tlicy ure early people." Me adds a moment later, as if euspecting liis own excuse of insulll- cicncy, ".Mr. Wilson iS rather nn in- valid, and them ls also nn invulid, or eeini-invalid sister; I think tlmt 1 liud bettor nol di.sturb Iheni to-niglit." Hyng has never been engaged to bo married, except in theory, ond it is cer- tainly no busin&<is of his to blow his friend's (lagging ardor into (lanio. so lie conlenl.s hinuself with an acquiescent obsrivalion to the effect thnt the tarin must have been lule. Hut at all events Iho next niorning (iiids liurgoyni; paying h.'s llacro ut the door of llie Anglo- American, with the confidence of a per- son who is certain of finding tlio.so lie eeek.'i, a conlidence jiislified by tho re- sult; lor, having followed a waiter ocro.ss a court-yard, and lieur.l him knock nt a door on the grnunii-lloor, that do(/r opens with an in.-.lanUincou.s- ticss wiiicli gives the idea of un ear hnvirg been pricked to catch llio e.\- peclunt nip, and the ne.xt inonient, tho inlorvening garcoii luivin;,' withdrawn, Jim fitJinds faeo to face with tiis .\iiii'lin. II<»i- fi'alurcs arc all alight with pli'a.siire, but her liist words ure nol purticulurly nmoious. "Would you mind coming into the dining-room? .'^ybilla is in tlic drnwing- ro(jm already Iliis morning. .She .said Blie was afraid it \\a.s going lo bo one of her lind days, so 1 thought' (rattier re- gretfully) "Ihal jio'-.sihly she would bo u lilll<! later than u.sual in coming down; but, on the conliaiy, slie is much earlier." It is po5.siblc Hint nn oxlrotnely ardent love may be hubpeiuleiit <ir surronnd- Ipffs; may burn with as lieiee a flame, wlu'ii its owner or viclirti is sealed on ft liurd linr.se-hair chair besirlo a dining- rnoin table in n little dull hotel back room, lis when the senses are courted by .sidtlyeustiinncil lounges, penelraling llowiT f-conls. and cunningly ananged bric-n-lirao; but perhaps Jim's passion Is nol of this intense and Spiutmi ipial- Uy. At all events a eliill steals over him OS Amelia leads llin way Into lliut siiiiill and uncheei'lul clianiber where the \\ i|- Kon family daily liani|iiet. lie is not .so lost to all sense of what Kiighind unit Amelia expect of liini, as not to lake tier Jn his arms and kiss her very kindly and warmly, before they sit down on Iwn luird chairs hkic ly side; and even when they ha\e done so, ho still holds li<'r hand, and kisses it now ami then. He has a great many things lo say lo â- her, but "out of tlio nbundanci; cd the liearl the mouth spenkelh ' is not in- variably true. .Someliiiie.s thai very abundance clog.s Iho utleruiu'e, ami, afler a ten monllis' .soparalion, the liingfs of even lovers' tongues are apt ut lirst to be sonicwlial riisly. "And lire you really glad to see me npaiu ?" n.sUs llio womanâ€" she Ls scarce- ly a girl, having the diaiblfut adviintngi' ot bidng tier belrotlied's senior by two years, 'riie hoi-se.halr chairs are obvi- ously powerlesg to lake the edge off her bliss ; and she cm .scarcely eonmiand her Miiee ns .she a.sks Iho question. "I fleeline lo answer all such futile in- quiriiis,' roplle.s he, smiling nol un- kindly; but IliPie is no li-emor in his voice. "i:TPn if I did not dlscoiunge tliem on pAnriple, 1 should have no time lo nn.swer Iheui lo-day; I hnvo .so niiicli to say to yoii that 1 do not ktiow vyheie lo iH^pIn." "Atlor ten montlLs Ihot is nol surpris- ln|{," rt'jcin* «he, with a elided sijjh. There is no sentimental reproach in her words or tortc; but in both lurks a note of wistfulness which gives his conscience a prick. "Of coui-sc nol! of course not!" ho re- joins, hastily; "but it is nol really ten monthsâ€" no, surely " "Ten month-!, one week, two days, four hours und a huU!" Against such exactitude of memory what opponl has he? He nttempls none, and only thinks with a faint unjiksl irri- tation that she might have spared him Ihe odd hours. "And how are things going? How are you all getting on ?" he asks, precipita- ting himself upon a fre.sh subject, since he feels pi-cvented by circumstances Jrom soying anything Ukely to bring him much dislinclion upon the old one. "Your father?" "Ills throat is belter"â€" with an accent of licsilating filial pJdy, as if tlicro were something else about him that was not belter. "And .SyjiUlH?" » "Oh, poor Sybilla I she has her bad days now and then." "And, like the early Christians, shC' resolves to have all things in common. I expect that her family have their bad day.s, too, says Jim, drily. "Well, wc do sometimes," replies .\melia with reluctant odints-sion; "but stie really does try to control herself, poor thing; she is hardly ever unbear- able now." "And recilia?" ".•she is rather in Irouble just now; I fear mere is no doubt lliat ttie man slio was engaged lo has ttirown her over. You never saw him? Oh, no! Of course the affair came on after you left Kngland." luii'goyne's eyebrows have gone up, and his face has assumed an exprfssion less of surprise than admiration at this piece of news. - "How many does that make? Four? Well, courage! There is luck in odd numbers; perhaps she will land tlie tilth." "She will tell you about it herself," say.s Amelia; "she lells everybody; she likes talking about it â€" it is very otid, but slie <Ioes. When you throw me over'â€" rubbing his hand, which she ', j holds, w ith sliy and deprecating care.ss- ingness against her own cheekâ€" "I shall tell not>ody; I sliu.. keep my misfortune very daik." "When I do!" repeals he, with laugh- ing emphasis; but to his own ear both the emiihasis und Iho laughter sound j flat. This is perhaps the cause why he, a .second time runs away from his sub- ject; or. more probably, he is really in haste tG get lo llic new one, ".Mean- while," lie says, his eyes invohmlarily dro|ipint; lo tho carpet, as if he had rather not see tlie effect of his words upon lior; "meanwhile, sonic one has tlirow'ii me over." "You ?" "Yes, me; I did not write It lo you, because I do not sec much use in put- ting down bud news in black and while, and even will! this III lie delay, I am afraid," with a dry smile, "Ihal you will have ptonly of time to enjoy It." He pauses for nn instant, and she does nol hurry him willi any ti'asing ipies- lions; but wails, wilh meek patience, till ho feels Inclined to go on. "My aunt is going lo be married." If he has wished that his news .shall produce llic pffeel of -a torpedo, he ha.s no causo lo comidain of his want of success. His placid Amelia vaults to her feet. "Mftrrie»ll" she repeats with a gasp. "Why, she is iiiiile. quite old!" "."^h'' Is sixly-llve!" The color has Hoodcnl all Amelia's face; the bla/ing color ihat ineniis not pleasure, but euiisteinalion. It is some imanciits before she can frume her next query. "And is he?â€" do you? -has she chosen wisely, 1 mean ?" Jim limglis again. "Can one choose wisely at sixty-live? Well, whether she has or no is a mat- ter ot opinion; she has chasen the curate of the parish, who, by reo.son ot his ex- treme juvenility is stilt in deticon's order.s." Mi.ss Wilscm's limbs are shaking so Ihat she cnmiot maintain hor standing atliluile. .She sinks down by the din- inglalile again in her hard ciinir. II is tt very bard chair on which to receive such ill-iuAvs. "And you cannot hiwler it, cannot you dissuade her?" she asks (allerliigjy. "I shall not try; poor old woman. Afler all, she has a right lo pursue her own happine.ss in her own way, only I wish that she had made uj) her mind twenty years ago; though to bo sure, how could she?"â€" Willi unolher smile â€" "since, at that time, her bridegroom was nol much more than born." A dead silence supenencsâ€" a silence of bhockod slupefnction on the one side, ill rather dismal brooding on Iho other. .M length Amelia nerves herself to put a question upon which It seems lo her, not very incorrectlv, that her wluilo (u- turo lialigs. .She doe^ it in such a low voice thai none but very sharp ctu's could have caught it. Jim's ears are so; practised as they ure in listening for the stealthy tread ot wild ajiinials, and for Ihe indescribable sounds of mountain solitudes at night. "Will itâ€" will itâ€" make a great differ- ence lo you?" Burgoyne litis his eyes, which have been idiy bent on tlic Hoor, and looks siraighl and full at her across llie cor- ner of the tuble. "11 will make all the difference!" he answers slowly. Poor Amelia is holding her handker- chief in her hand. She lifts it lo her mouth and bites a corner of it to liide Ihe ipiivcring of her Ups und chin. .She does nol wish to add to his pain by any breakdown on her own part. But Jim divines the quivering even under tlie morsel ot cambric, and looks away again. "Her money is almost entirely in her own power," he continues, in an un- emotional voice; "and when she an- nounced her marriage lo me, she also announced her inlenlion of settling the whole of it upon her â€" her"â€" he pauses a second, as if resolved lo keep out of Ids voice the accent of satire and billerness Ihal pierces through ils caluiâ€" "her hus- band." Amelia has dropped both shielding hand and -handkerchief into her lap. She has forgotten her effort lo conceal the blanknc.ss of her dismay. Unless she conceals the whole of her face in- deed, the allcmpl would be in vain, since each feature speaks it equally. "Her whole fortune?" she repeats, al- most inaudibly. "Alt'/" "What, all my pretty chickens and their dain ?" says Jim, oppressed by her overwhelmed look into an artilicial and dreary levity, nnd in not pailicularly ajit qOotation. ".My dear, do not look so broken-hearted. I am not absolutely destitute; I need nol become a sanciwich man. I have still gol my £800 a year, my very own, which neither man nor mou.se, neither curate nor vicar can take from me. I can still go on rioting upon thai; the question is"â€" his words coming more slowly, and his lone growing graverâ€" "have I anv right to ask you to riot on it too?" ' Her hand has gone in feverish haste out lo his for answer, nhd her eyes, into which the tear-" are welling, look with an intense dumb wistfulness into his; but, for the inonienl, it remains dumb. There is somelliing painful to Burgoyne in that wistfulness, nlinosl more pain- ful than the telling of Ihut news which has produced It. He looks down upon Ihe table-cloth, nnd, wilh liis disengaged bund, tho one nol imprisoned in his be- lrotlied's fond hold, draws patterns with a pnper-knifc accidentally loft there. "fhc only thing I blame her for," he ronlinues, not following up the branch ot the subject tlmt his last spce(-h had begun to open up, and speaking wifh a composure wliich, to tho stricken Amelia, appears lo evidence his attain- ment of llu' highest pinnacle of manly forliliide, "Ihe only tiling I blame her (or, is her having hindered my odopt- ing any profession. Poor old woman, it was nol malice prepense, I know; she had nol seen hor Jcs.samey then, proba- bly had not even a prophetic instinct of him,' but as Ihiiigs turned out"â€" stilling a sighâ€" "it would have been kinder lo have put me in the way of earning my own living." Amelia's head lias sunk dow-n tipnn his liandâ€" ho [eels her hot tears upon il; but noiv that Iho theme has no longer reference to her>elf, she can speak. .She siraiglitens herself, and tliero is a flash, such as he has vei'y seldom seen Ihcre, in her rather colorless orbs. "tt was moii>lrous of her!" she cries, wilh Ihe alniosl exagjjcraled passion o' « usually very self-coiilrolled pea-son. ".Vfler having always told you that you were to be her heir!" "But hod she lold me so?". replies Jim, pa.ssing his hand wilh a perplexed air over his own face. "Thai is what 1 have been trying lo recall for the last few days. 1 never remember the lime when I did nol believe it, so I suppose that some one niusi have told me so; but I could nol swear Hint she herself had ever put il down in black and white. However," lossiug his head back with a geslure as of one who throws off his shoulders a useless burden, "what does Ihat matter now? I nin nol her heir, I am nobody's heir; we must look facts an Iho face! Amelia, dear"â€" in a tone of reluctant tender affoclion, as of one compelled, yet most unwilling, to give a litlle ctiild, or .some qthor sofi, helpless creature, puinâ€" "we must look facts in 'die face!" There Is something In his voice that "makes .Amelia's heart .stand still; but slie attempts no hilerruplion. "11 is very luird tor ine, dear, after all theso"â€" ho pauses a second; he is about \o say "weary years' wailing," but his I'onscicncc arrcsLs him; to him they have not b^tMi weary, so after a liardly-per- ceplible break, ho goes onâ€" "after all Vheso innny yeai-s" wailing, to have come to Has, is nol il?" lie had not calculated on Ihe effect which would be produced by his melan- choly words and hi.s caressing lone. .She buries her lace on his shoulder, sob- bing uncontrollably. "They wnv nol long!"' she muniiurs brokenly. "Nothing is, nothing can be, long to me as long as I have you, or tho •hope of youl"' aiAPTER VI. II Is, nerhaps, fortunate for Amelia tlmt she cannol see the cxpresaion of the lace which looks out above her pros- trate bead Into space, with a blankn&ss equal lo what had l>een ber own, a blnnkness streaked, as hers was not, with. remorse. He would give anything to be able to ftn.swer her in her own key, lo tell her thai, as long as he can keep her, ihe going or coimag of a^y lesser good hurts him as litlle as the brushing pust his check of a summer moth or wind-blown feather. But when ho tries to frame a sciitcnce of this kind his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. He can only hold her to him in an affectionate clasp, whose dumb- ness he hopes that she attributes to silencing emotion. She herself indulges in no very prolonged manifestation of her passion. In a few moments .she is 'again .silling up beside him with wiped eyes, none the handsomer, poor soul. for having cried, and listening wilh a deep attention to an exposition of her lover"s position and prospects, which he is at no pains lo tinge wilh a factitious rosc-color. "Have you realized," he says, "Ihal I shall never be belter off tlian I am now? "never! never! For though of course I 'Shall try to gel work, one knows liow successful that qu".st generally is in the case of a man wilh no special aptitudes, no technical training, and who starts in llie race handicapped by being ten yeai-s too late I" But the dismalncss of his panorama raises no ans-,vcring gloom in the young woman's face. She nods her head gently. "I realize it." "And this is what I have brought you to, after all these years' wailing." he continues, in a tone of profound regret. ".Ml I can offer you at the end ot them is a nol particularly genteel poverty, not even a collage with a double coach- house!"â€" laughing grimly. "I do nol want a double coach-house, nor even a single one!" replies .Amelia stoutly, and laughing too. a little through reluming tears. "Do not you know that I had rather drive a coster- monger's barrow wilh you than go in a couch and six without you!" This is the highest llight of imagina- tion of which Jim has ever known his mutlcr-of-facl Amelia guilty, and he can pay his thanks for il only in compunc- tious kls.ses. Perhaps 11 is th.ey, perhaps it is the thought which dictates her next hesitating speech tlial bring a light into Amelia's tear-reddened eyes. "If you will never be belter off "' She stops. "Yes, dear, go on; 'If I shall never be belter of!"- 1 certainly never shall; I feel sure Ihal you will bo able to put my earnings for the next ten years into your- eye, and see none the worse for them!" "If â€" you â€" willâ€" neverâ€" beâ€" better- off," she repeats again, more slowly, and breaking oft al the same place. "Weil, dear?" "If you will never be better off." This linio she finishes her sentence; but it is rendered almo.st inaudible by the fact of her llusluxl face and quivering lips beinpt pi"c.s.sed against his breast. "Why should we wait any longer?" "Why should wo wail any longer?" To most persons, granted Ihe usual con- dilion of feeling of a. betrothed otfiuplc, this would se?ni a very natural und Icgitrnialc deduction ficm the premises; liul, strange to sny, it comes upon Bur- goyne wilh the shock of a surprise. He lias been Ihiiiking vaguely of his change of fortune as a c;ii!sc for un- limited delay, perhaps for the ruiiture of bis engagement, never us a reason for its immediate fultiimenl. Ho gives a sort of breathless gnsp, which is ha|ipily too low for Amelia Willi her still hidden fncc to hear. To be married al once! To sit down for all linio to Amelia nnd .iSOO a your! To torcLTo for ever the ttiriUIng wandering life; the nights under the norlhern .stai-s, the stealthy tracking of shy fore-sl crea- tures; tho scarce coarse delicious food, the cold, the fatigue, the hourly peril, Ihat, since ils probable loss is ever in sight, makes life so .swcelly woi-lh hav- ingâ€"all in short that goe.s to make up so numy an l-^ng'ishinan's ideal of felicity; that has certainly hitherlo gone to n\uke up Jim's. To renounce il nil ! Thoi-o is no doubt thai tho bitterness of this thought comes flrsl; but presently, su'-.plaiiting it, chasing it away, there tollows another, n self-rcprouchful lighl (lushing over his past eiglit years, show- ing him Ills own sein.shne.ss colo.ssal and coinplele for the first lime. In a par- oxysm of remorse, ho hius lifted Amcl- ia'.s fu,e, and. framing il with his hands, looks searchingly into il. "I believe," he says In a shaken voice, "that you would have married me eight years ago, on my plltunee, if I had asked vou !'" No "Y'e^" was ever wrillen in larger prinl than tlial which he rend in her patient pale eyes. Kvcn at this instant there darts across him a wi.sh that they were not quite so pale, but he detests him.seU for it. "And I never suspected it!" ho cries, compunctiously. "I give you my word of honor, I never suspected il! I thouglil you looked upon my poverty In as pro- iiibilory a light as I did myself." "I do nol call it such great poverty," replies Amelia, her practical mind re- a-ssuining its habitual sway over her •cniol Ions. "Of course it is an income that would require n little management; but if we cut our coal according to our cloth, nnd did not want to move about loo much, we might live either in a not very fashionable pai't ot London, or in some cheap district in the country very comforlably."' Despite Ills remorses, a cold .shiver runs down Burgoync's spine al tho pic- lure that rises, conjured up with too much distinclness by hor words, before his mind's eye; the picture of a sfnug Bayswater villa, with a piclurosquo parlormaid, or tho alteniative cottage in some dreary Will.shire or Dor.seLshiro village, wilh a shrubbery of ihree Au- cuba bushes, and a kitchen-garden ol half on acre. It may be that, her frame being in such close proximity lo his, she feels the influence of his shiver, and that it suggests her next sentence, wtUch is in a less sanquine key. (To tie coutiuued). ON TIE rill ADVANTAGES 0I-' A HAND SUPA- BATOR. The hand st^ralor has greatly re- duced tho expense of hauling raw pro- duct to the factory. Nol only does crcank require less space, but also less time, lor as milk is delivered six limes a. week il is nol necessary lo deliver •'leam as often, and the load being so rnuch lighter it is transported mora rapidly and al less cost. Tliis, I believe, is a very important item to consider in â- jonncclion wilh the hand separator ;jioblem, writes Prof. A. L. Haecker. Going on the basis that a man and team on the farm or a man and ivorse have a value respecting labor, it is not ditricult to figure or ascertain the ex- pen.se of transporting mUk or cream to market, nnd il often hapi'cus Ihat the time taken out for this delivering is most valuable lime, as in cases where certain important work is in progress on the- farm, such as harvesting, planting, baying, etc. It often happen*, that a farmers time can really not be estimated by the hour, for there are nish seasons, when his lime becomes very valuable. II is thei-efore fair lo figure thai his lime- throughout the year, whether rushed or nol, has at least a certain value and that this value is not by any means, small. Secondly, the value of fresh .skim- milk on the (arm is often underesU- maled. By the use of a hand sepui-ator night and moniing al milking lime, the by-product skim milk can be brought to its highest possible value. This should not be lost sight of, and. 'oy a careful culculalion, may be figured to be worth all the way from 15 to 40 cents per lOO pounds. The third and last important item under tho advantage of tho hand sepa- rator may be considered us, indepen- dence of the pi*oducer. As cream is a niarkelublc product it may be sold to any buyer or it may be made into but- ler on llie farm. Considering all the advantages that are here slated, it is not more than fair that the producer be somewhat inde- pcndcnl in his decision as to whctlier or not ho finds the hand separator a prac- tical m.ichiiie for him lo use. niere are many sections of the country where creameries are close together and the short haul makes tlie hand separator- less necossary. SCIENCE OF MILKING CLEAN. COWS II is well known Ihal the average milker geis less milk than lie who does a thorough job, Itial hiconiplelc milk- ing means nol only direct but indii-ect loss, nol only an iiiimcdiule les.seiiing of the fat yield, but tends toward dry- ing the cow. A Danish scientist has re- ci'.ntly devCloiH-d a special .system of udder iiuinipuiulion, a sort of niussugo of tho mammary gland, as it were, which il is claimed augments the How. The llegeluiid method, as it is culled,, involves three manipulations, each thrice repeated, or until no milk is ob- tained, riist, llie pressure of the quar- ter on each side against each other thrice repeated, followed by removal of the milk; second, the pressure of tho glands togetlior on each side, Iho for* (luurtcr being first manipululcd and then the hind <|uartei«, followed by re- moval of the milk; and third, Iho fore quarters arc pressed between liand and body, the lumds holding liio tcata loo.sely, tlKii the hind quaiieis also, followed by milking. Trials of the scheme made at th» Wisconsin nnd New York stations af- forded a daily nveragfl increase per cow of a pound of milk and two ounces of butter. The after milk was very riclx in ful, lesling aliovc 10 per cent. This after milking takes not lo exceed five minutes" time, often only two or three minutes. Tlio two ounces of butler muy be held al u low cstimute to be worii 2 cents. This would be a fair pay Ifr IKe minutes" work, 21 cents an hour and the skim milk thrown ir.. Not only is nioro milk and butter made, but the secretion Is stiiiiululett ond the lactu- lion period prnl,-ingi'd. 11 may be re- marked, however, that the dlKerences in milk und butter yields between this method and cuivful stripping ure n(jt great. This Dunitsh melliod cmphasi-/.os more perha)>s llian has hitherto been done, the aelual and potential losses due to incomplete milking. â€" ♦" THAT SEITLED IT. Mr. Sproggiiis: "And if I decline lo let you iiave my daughter, what do you propo.so to do?'" Mr. Wibblesen: "1 warn you that in that case we arc prc)iarcd to act. Kveii now, belove<.l .\uivlia has hor be.st dollies on, and awaits mo near a rail- way station. If yoti dix;itle against us, we will lleo logellier and never com* back."' Mr. Sproggiiis (without a moment's liesilulioii); "Tlicu 1 relusc."' A foivigner, who had heard of Iho Yankee propeii.sity for bragging, thoughl Ir; would beat the natives ut their own game. Seeing some very large >water- inclons on a market-woman's stand, ho exclaimed: "What! don I you rakse larger apples than those in .Anieiic.a?" The quick-witted woman then replied : "Apples! AnyNidy might know you ar» a foreigner; Uieui's gooseberries." V