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LOVE REASONS NOT. , CHAPTER LIL A liATIIF.IIINi. .-LOI'li. It wa* strange that she should use the same words which Leone hail used. "I oannot b*ar it. Lance," she said "Why have you done this?" He wa* quite at a loss what, to as) to her; be wa* grieved for her, vexed with those who told her, and the mental emotion* caused him to turn angrily round to her. "Why did you take her ? What i* Madame Vanira to you ?" she asked. "My dear Marion, can you see any harm *n my giving madams a day'* holiday and reet, whether on water or on land ? ' She was silent for a minute before ahe answered him. "No," ih* replied, "the harm lay in con cealing it from me; if you had told me about it I would have gone with you ?" Poor, simple, innocent Lady Marion ! The words touched him deeply; he '.bought of the boat among the water-lilies, the beautiful, passionate voice floating over the water, the beautiful, passionate face, with it* defiance a* the word* of the iweet, sad song fell from her lip*. "Lance, why did you not tell me ? Why did you uot ask me lo go with you ? I can not understand." When a man ha* no proper excuse to make, no sensible reason to give, he take* refuge in anger. Lord Chando* did that now; he was quite at a lot* what to say ; he knew that he had done wiong; that he could aay nothing which could aet matter* straight ; obviously the but thing to do wa* to grow angry with his wife. "I oannot see much harm in it," he laid " I should not suppose that I am the first gentleman in England who has taken a lady out for a holiday and felt himaelf highly honored in so doing." " But, Lanoe," repeated hi* fair wife, sorrowfully, " why did yon not take me or tell me ?" " My dear Marion, I did not think that I wa* compelled to tell you every action of my life, everywhere I went, everything did, everyone I *ee ; I would never submit to such a thing. Of all thing* in the world, I abhor the idea of a jealous wife." She rose from her knees, her fair face growing paler, and stood looking at him with a strangely perplexed, wondering gaze. " I cannot argue with you, Ltnoe,'' she aid, gently ; " I cannot dtspute what you say. You are your own master; you have a perfect right to po where you will, and with whom you will, but my instinct and my heart tell me that yon are wrong. You have no right to take any lady out without telling me. You belong to me, and to no one else." "My dear Marion, you are talking non- sense," he said, abruptly; "you know noth- ing of the world. Pray cease." She looked at him with more of anger on her fair faoe than he had ever seen before. "Lord Chandoe," she said, "is this all you have to say to me ? I am told that you have spent a whole day in the society of the most beautiful actress in the world, perhaps, and when I ask for an explanation you have none to give me." "No," he replied, "I have none." "Lance,! do not like u, 'she said, slowly; "and I lo not understand. I thought Madame Vanira wa* *o good and true?" "So she is," he replied. "You must not say on* word against her." "I have no wish; but if she I* so good why shmild she try to take my husband from me ?" "She ha* not done so," he replied angri- ly. "Marion, I will not be annoyed by a jealous wife." "I am not "but when I am told *uoh a story prove* to be true, what am I to do?" " Say nothing, Marion, which i* alway* the wiseit thing a woman can dp," he re- plied. Hi* wile gaxed at him with proud indig- nation. " I do not like the tone in which you speak of this; loll me frankly, is it with Madame Vanira yon spend all the time which you pass away from home ?" ' I shall say nothing "", A w in'* uv uuujrmi uy a given Up trie Worli " i in his study, in t ot jealous. Lanoe." she replied; ' day. when she w I am told such a story, and it ' onoe more bv his s "I have not gossiped about you, Lance." he said ; "but I wish you yourself to tell me why people talk about you and Madame Vanira." "How can I tell ? Why 'o people talk ? Because they have nothing be'ieT to do." Hut thai did not satisfy btr ; her hart ached ; this wa* not the manner iu which site had expected him to meet the charge- so differently either to deny it indignant- ly, or to give her some sensible explanation. As it was. he seemed to avoid the subject, even while he owned that it wai true. "1 am not latisfied, L\nce," she ssid "you have made me very unhappy ; if there is anything to tell me tell it now." " What should I have to tell yon ?" he asked, impatiently. "I do not know; but if there is any parti- cular friendship or acquaintance between Madame Vanira and yourself, tell me now." It would have been better if he had told her, if he had made an open confession of his fault, and have listened to her gentle counsel, but he did not; on the contrary, be looked angrily at her." "If yon wish to please me, you will not continue this conversation, Marion; in fact, I decline to say another word on the sub- ject. I have said all that was needful, let it end now." " Yon eay this, knowing that I am dn satisfied, Lance," said Lady Marion. "I aay it, hoping that you intend to obey me," he replied. Without another word, and in perfect silence. Lady Chandoe quitted the room, her heart beating with indignation. " He will not expiain," to me she said ; "I will find out for myself." She reeolved from that moment to watch him, and to find out for herself that which he refuted to tell her. She could not bring herself to believe that there was really any- thing between her husband and Madame Vanira; he had always been so good, *o de- voted to herself. But the result of her watching wa* ba 1; it showed that her husband had other interest* ; much of hi* time was spent from home ; a cloud came between them ; when he saw him leaving houie she was too proud to a*k him where he wa* going, and it even by chance she did ask, hi* reply wa* never a conciliatory one. It wa* quite by accident she learned he went often to Highgate. In the liable* were a fine pair of gray* : she liked using them better than any other hone* they had, and one morning the carriage came to 'f I the door with a pair ot chesuut* she parti- I ' cularly disliked. "Where art the gray*?" she asked of the coachman. "One of them fell yesterday, my lady," aid the man, touching his hat. "Fell where ?" asked Lady Chandoe. "Coming dovm Highgale Hill, my ladv. It is a t-rrible hill -so steep an 1 awk ward," replied the man. Then she would have thought nothing of it but for a sudden look of warning she saw rttsh from the groom to the coachman, from which she shrewdly guessed that they had been told to ba silent about the visit* to Highgate. Then she remembered that Madame Vani^a lived there. She remembered bow she had spoken of the hills, of the fresh air, and the distance from town ; she watched again and found out that her hus- band went to Highgale nearly every day of his life, and then Lady Chandoe drew her own conclusions and very miserable one* they were. The cloud between them deepened deep- ened daily; all her loving amiability, her gentle, caressing manner vanished ; she became silent, watchful, euspioiuu* ; no passion deteriorates the human mind or the human heart more quickly than jealousy. If, during those watchful days, Lord 'hat doe had once told his wife the plain truth, he would have forgiven him, nave taken him from the Rcer.e of hi* danger, and all might have gone well ; as it was, all went wrong. One day a sense of regret of her lost happiness cam* over her, and she deter mined to speak to him about it. She wouUj destroy this shadow that Uy between them; she would dispel the cloud. Surely he would do anything for her lake *h* would have up the world for him. He was alone the gloaming of a bright 'ent in to him and stood onoe more by hi* lide. " Lance," ihe laid, bending her fair, iweet faoe over his. " Lance. I want to speak to yon again. I am not happy dear- then is a cloud between us, and it i* kill- ing me. 1 You love me. Lance, do you not?" " You know that I do," he laid, but there wa* no heartiness in his voice. " I want to tell yon, dear, that I have been jealous. I am very unhsppy, but I will conquer myself. I will In to you the most loving wile in all the world it you will of Madame Van- ira," he replied. giv . up Madame Vanira," She drew nearer to him; the laid one He pushed the outstretched hand awy white hand on his shoulder aud looked " You do not know what you are ask- wistfully into hi* faoe. j i ng( " he Mid. hoarsely, and his manner so Lanoe, 'she said, " are we to quarrel ' alarmed her that she said no more. over a woman, too ? I will not believe iu You have always been honest with me ; tell me what Ma lame Vanira i* to you?' " She i* nothing to me," he replied. Then the remembrance of what aha had been to him came over him and froze the words on hi* lip*. Hi* wife wa* quick to notioe it. " You oannot say it with truth. Oh Lanoe, how you pain me." There was such absolute, physical pain in her face that he was grieved for her. " Say no more about it, Marion," he cried. " 1 did ask madame to let me row her on the river; I know ihe love* the river; I ought to haveaakedyou to go with us, or to have told you about it," he said; " I know that; hut people often do impru- dent things. Kiss me and aay no more about it." But for t v ie first time that iweet girl looked ooldly on him. Initead of bending down lo kin him, *he looked itraight into hi* faoe. "Lance," ihe laid, "do you like Madame Vanira?" His answer was prompt. Most decidedly I do," he answered ; "every one must like her " "Lady lilield m>n that shadow, is that true ?" "Lady Ilfield is a joetip, who listen* lo scan ial about her lowers herself." She did not (brink now from hi* word*. you are and her the wife hustand CHAPTER I. III. A Ql'ARBEL. From that hour all pretense of peaoe was at an end between them. Lady Chandos 1 wa* juitly indignant and wounded. If her husband had trusted her all might, even then, have been well, but he did not j he said to himself that she would forget the story of her annoyance in Ume, and all would be well t he did not give hi* wife credit for the depth of feeling that *h* really possessed. Fiercest, most cruel jealousy had taken hold of the gentle lady, it racked and tortured hr ; the color faded from her face, the light from her ye* ; (he grew thin and pale i at night he could not deep, by day the oould not rest ; all her sweetness, grace and amia- bility, seemed to hive given way to a grave sadness; the sound of her laughter, her bright words, died away; nothing interest- ed her. She who had never known a trouble or a care, now wore the expreisioq of one who was heart broken; she shrunk from all gay- ety, all pleasures, all parties; she was like the ghost ol her former aelf ; yet after those word* of her huihand'* she never spoke again of Madame Vanira. The sword was sheathed in her heart and she kepi it there. There i* no pain *o cruel a* jea!ouy; ncne thst 10 quickly deteriorates a charac- ter: it brings so many evil* in iti train iu*- picion, envy, hatred of life, distrust in every one and in everything; it is the most fatal passion that sver take* hold of a human hem, and turns me kindest nature to gall. There wa* no moment during the day in whioh Lady Chando* did not pic- ture her husband with her rival; she drove herself aim nt in 1 1 with tiie pictures she made in her own mind. All the cruel pain, the tulten brooding, the hot anguish, thr ilesoUtion, the jealousy seemed to surge over her heart and >ul like the waves of a deadly sea. If she saw her husband silent and abitracted, *he said ha wai thinking of Madame Vanira; if ihe saw him laugh and light of heart she said lie was pleased because he wai going to see Madame Van- ira. She had sensible and reasonable grounds for jealou*y,but ihe wai unreason- ably jealoni. ' Trifle* light a* al.- Are to the jcalom confirmation strong A* proofs of holy writ." It was io with Lady Marion, and her life at last grew too bitter to be borne. There wa excuse for Lord Chandos, the mistake waa in rsnewing the acquaintance ; a mis- , take that can never be remedied. People were beginning to talk ; when Lord Chandos WAS mentioned, they cave significant i miles Againit Madam* Van- ira there had never been even the fainteet rumor of scandal ; but a certain idea wa* current in society that Lord Chando* admired the queen of *oag. No one insinu- ated the least wrong, but significant smilee folio wnl the mention of either name. " Madame Vanira wss at Lady Marlyn'a la*t night," one would my. And the laughing answer wai always Then Lord Chandos wai not very far away." 1 I A \ anira lung to perfection in 4 Fidlio,' " would remark one. Another would answer: "Lord Cbandoi would know how to ap- plaud." Madam* Vanira waimor* eagerly sought after than other women in London. She reigned quren, not only over the stage, but over the world of fashion also. Trie Co-antess of Kasion gave a grand ball it was the most exclusive of the season. After much praying Madame Var.ira had promised to go, and Lady Chando* wa* the belle of the ball. They had not met since the evening Madame Vanira had sung for her, and Lord Chando* had many an anxious thought a* to what their next meeting would be like. He knew that Leone would bear much for hi* sake, yet he did not know what bis wife would be templed to say. They met on the night of Lady Easton's ball; neither knew that the other wai com- ing. If Lady Chandos had dreamed of meeting Leon* there she would not have gone. A* it was, they net lace te face in the beautiful anti-room that led to the ball room. Faoe to face. Leon* wore a superb drees of pale amber brocade, and Lady Chando* a beautiful costume of pale blue velvet, the long train otwmch wai fastened with trhite shilling pearls. It was like ihe meeting of rival queen*. Leone'* faoe flushed. Lady Marion'* grew Leone held cut her hand; arion declined to aee it. They looked at each other for a brief space of timt- , then L-one spoke. " Lidy Marion," *he said, in a low pain- ed voice, "hare I displsased you ?" " I'es, yon have." was the brief reply. "Yon will not touch my hand ?" said Leone. "No, I decline to touch your hand," said Lady mar ion ; "I decline tc (peak to you after this." " Will you tell me why ?" asked Leone. Lady Marion'* face flushed crimson. "Since you ask me, 1 will tell you. You have been seeking ray husband, and I do not approve of it. You spent a day with him on the river h never told me about it. I am not a jealous wife, but 1 despite any woman who would seek to take the love of ahuiband from hi* wife. Conscience, whioh makes cowards of u* all, kept Leone sileut. Lady Chandoe continued : "What is there between my husband and yon T" ".I rue friendship," aniwercd Leone, try- ing to speak bravely. " I do not believe it," said Lady Chan- doe; " tru* friendship does not hide I Mel f, or make mystery of iu actions. Madame Yauira, I loved you when I first saw you; I take my love anil -iiy likirg both from you. Now that I find that you have acted treach- eroualy I believe in you no more." " Thoie are itrong word*, Lady Chin- do*," laid Leone. " They are true; henceforth we are strangers. My friends are honorable wo- men, who would eeek to steal my jewels rather than seek to (teal frotn me my hus- band's love." Leone could have retaliated; the temptn- tion was itrong; ahe oould have said: " He was my husband, *i 1 believed, be- fore he wai your*; you stole him from me, not I from yoi>. " The uuupuuou was strong the wold* leiped in a burning torrent from her heart to her lips; (he repressed them for his sake and boro the crushing words without reply. " I have alway* heard," she aaid, " that there was ample reason that singers, even though they be queens of songs, should not be admitted into the heart of one's ho ne; now 1 lee the justice ot it; they are not aliened with legitimate triumphs. You, Madame Vanira, have not been contented wall my liking and frieudihip, with the ho- pitality of my ho.ne, bat you must seek to take my husband's interest, iinie.anVclion." "Are you hot judging me hanhl y, Lady ( nandos ?" liked the singer. "You bring all these aoousai ions against me ar.d give me no opportunity of clearing myself of them." "You ciDUut," laid Lady Chandos ; "I have no wish lo hear your defenae, you can neither deny nor explain the fact that you pnt> a day with my husband on the river; ilta.il y pale. Lady M.rioi those like you, who would come between huibandi and wives lo separate them." It wan such a satire of tale, such a satire of her own life -that Leone's beautiful lips juried with a bitter smile. It was she who had been parted from her husband by a quibble of the law, and this fair, angry woman had taken him for herself. Lady Chando* saw the smile and mis- understood it. She bowed, and would have pated, but Lone tried to stop her. " Will you not say one kind word to me before you go Lady Cbandos ?" she aeked. " I have not one word to lay," wai the brief reply. She would have passed on, but fate again intervened in the person of Lord Chandoe. who was walking with hi* hostess, the Countess of K.uitoij. They stopped before the two ladiee, and Lord Chandos saw at onoe that something wis wrong. Madame Vanira, after exchanging a few word* with the oonoieee, went away, and a* *ooo a* he could, Lord Chaado* rejoined hi* wife. " Marion," he said, curtly, " yon have had some disagreeable word*, with Madame Vanira. I know it by the expression nf yonr face." " Yon are right," she said; " I have told her that henceforth she and I shall be strangers." " You have dared !" he cried, forgetting himself at the thought of Leone's face. .She turned her lair face proudly to him . "I have dared." she replied ; " 1 refuse to (peak or see Madams Vanira again she must not croe* the threshold of my door again." Lord Chandoe grew deadly pale as be heard the words. "And I say that you wrong a good and blameless woman, Marion, when you aay nch words." "My lord, am I or am I ant at liberty to choose my friend*?" she asked, haughtily. "Certainly you are at liberty to do just a* you please in that respect," he replied. 'Then among them I decline to receive Madam* Vanira," she said. As yon refiue to see my friends, I musi go to meet them," laid Lord Chandoe. And then between husband and wife be gan one of thoae scenes which leave a mark on both their live* cruel, hard, unjust and bitter words bard and cruel thoughts. Then Lady Chandos bad her carriage called and went home. (TO BI ODNTIM'CD. ) HYGIENIC FRAUDS. Helical fruphru Wke Terrify MBit* fey Array ef ftvs4eiaa. The teachiug of hygiene is in itself si laudable an object that it is with some reluctance that we draw attention to the f sot that this nr-ject ii apt to be taken a* a text by wandering lecturer*, who use it aa a mean* of introducing a great deal ol most objectionable teaching, says the British Me iioal Journal. Women who in no other way could get a hearing find that by advertising a course of lecture* on hygiene they can draw together a wealthy ami influential audience, and having once caught their ears, can terrify them with ham pathological horror* regarding the reproductive organ*. The lady lecturer, armed as she may be with some American diploma or degree, is often only a she- wolf in sheep's clothing, whose object is lo terrify and then to rob. The trick is ingenious, and unfortunately it pays only too well For thoee who accept the invitation various further ad ventures are open, bat unle*> they have the sense to ru*h off to their doctor and ask whether it be possible that the terrible things told to them are true, they alway* end in the same way much misery and distress, an empty purse, and often fraud upon the huabaud*. theft in fact to meet the demand* of quackery, and nothing to how for it but a wretched pessary, for which, perhaps, five guine >< been paid. all the sophistry in the world oannot deny that tact, ami that fact condemns you." "Would you say the same thing to any of your lormer friend j ?" asked Leone "to Ladv Caldwell or Udy Illake T" "Neither of them would do such a thing," cried Litiy Chauilo*. "Ltdie of the class to which I belong do not spend whole days on the river with gentlemen unknown to their wives. Madame Vanira you and I are (trangers from thi ume." "You are very hard on me," said Leone; "The day may oo-ne when you will admit that. " "The (ley will never oome in winch I will mistake good for evil, or right for wrong," said Lady Chaudoa. "Uiheis may applaud you, you may continue your sway over the mind* aud heart* of men, bat 1 *hall proleit against you, and all STEEL INSTEAD OF WOOD. M.I.I New Extensively B.eel as a all- line ler Lmiibr r. Since iron and steel are so universally used a* a substitute for lumber there ha* been an enormous increase in the capacity of the iron and steels work* of the world. The German Iron Trade Association ha lately taken the pains to point out, for the Iwnefit of all concerned, the many advan- tage* to be gained by the reeort to iteel ; and it would neem that there U barely a ingle use left for wood in constructive detail, and not much in ornamental finish, except genuine carving. The modern edinoe is nearest perfection in point of durability a i.d safety, according to the proportion in which metal has excluded wood. It i* now proposed that wood shall b 'disptnsed with entirely in the frame- work ol railway rolling stock, iod this means something when we remember that there are about 2,500,000 railway vehicles, exclusive of locomotive*. In mines metal ie doing away with woo I, and the uae of iron pit prop* in France haa shown that they need to be renewed only half a* often a* lhoe of wood. At the same time metal has its own special risks, and it is suggest- ed, for example, that unless' carefully in- ulated a large Suilding full of steel and iron might be a* susceptible to electrolytic action by stray currents eating it up as though it were rail, forming part of an elejtno railway circuit, or gas or water pipe* adjacent thereto. If this new danger exist* it* remedy should be readily dm ooverablo. HIIRO-GLYCERINE LASTS. A H.irU.iiM . M irlll.ii I vp. rlnicnl with ! Old Fell Hal Mralurr. " Nitro-glycerine cannot be annihilated.'* said a man of long experience in petroleum operations in the oil fields, " and from the reckless manner in whioh the deadly ex plosive ha* been handled ever since it came into uje in the oil country it is a wonder that there is a town left standing there. Everybody knows how terribly exploeivn this compound is by concussion, but few know it* laiting propertiee and how impos- sible it i* to destroy them. " In manufacturing nitro-glycerioe one of the proce-ses is the straining of it through felt, usually through the crowns of old felt hat*. After these crown* have served their purpose a* ilraiaera of liquid explosive. they are burned to place their saturation itb the nitro-glycerine beyond the poesible doing of damage in the possession of care- less and thoughtla** persons At a mtro- glycerine factory in the Bradford oil field once an employee thought he would put the life and vigor of the exploeive to a test. He took a hat crown that had been need as a strainer, washed it thoroughly, and then treated it with strong alkalies. He placed the teli away on a shell out of reach and knowledge of any one elee in the factory to dry. Then he forget about it for two yean, but one day happened to recall th circum- stance and took the felt crown to complete hi* test. " Workmen in nitro-glycerine factories and in handling the dangerous stuff about wells are notoriously reckless, but the most careful and timid man would scarcely have had any fear of this two-year-old strainer that had buen so thoroughly cleansed. The workman who had taken it upon himself to make the test had no idea that there could possibly remain in the felt even the slighteel suspicion of danger, and to show how the stuff had been annihilated by the treatment be put the felt on the iron arm of the tinner's bench, where the can* for holding the nitro-glycerine are soldered, and struck it with a hammer. The result wasaiurpriee in that factory. An explosion followed the blow that broke both of the man's arms, stunned three other men, burl- ed the heavy iron srm through a two-foot brick wall, and wrecked the tinning shop. ' Handkerchief-Case. White ribbed silk ie used for the outside of this sachet and pale pink quilted silk for the linning ; the nze when spread spsrt, i* fifteen inches deep by twenty-one wide. The embroidery on the upper halt consiiU of a spray of chrysanthemums, worked, some in pale roee, some in tawny yellow (ilk*, with tohage in gray and olive green*. The lattice in the corner is defined by Isid line* of gold thread. The sirai^ht line in the frame is defined by a HAVDKIKCHlKr CASE. laid silver corner, with a line of tawny- yellow chenille on either side of it, while the twilled ribbon is formed by two lines, of white silk braid, which are carried through under the silk, where they disap- pear and out again to the surface farther on; on either side of the braid is a itrand of pale yellow filosolle sewed down with slanting stitches to match. The flowers springing from the point* are outlined IB silver thread, and tilled in with long chain stitches in pale pink silk, The caw is edged with white silk cord, twisted into oops at the corners and tied with white ibbons. Toronto Ladiee' Journal. Sponge Bag;. Thi* bag i* made of a square of o>ch eted rings, worked with touting sUk j n A pink square of Chan- any desired color. A Fated Spot The lai'. serious wreck on the Missouri I Kansas and Texas Railway, which occurred at ('ale, I. T. , a few days ago, and resulted in $30. (XX) damages toitae Company, is the eleventh ^wreck thst ha* occurred within one half mile of that point iu the past few years. As th (tory runs among the em- ployee of theCocipany.lUycareagoa widow, whose premises join the track, had I.er only cow killed by a train, and for some reason or other the railroad company rcfu t or failed to satisfy her claim. Then she called down the vengeance ol the Almighty to redre<* her wrong*, aud the euro* seems to be e-Tectaal. si'OMil BACI. ois is placet! inude the rings, and thia has a liniog of oiled silk. Tii" bag ia hung with ring* a* shown in the illustration, and four silk pompons give a ji ; ,,/ 11 1.1. Toronto Ladies' Journal. Tried to Speak When Cut In Two. A horrible feature ot the cutting in two of Darling at a sawmill at Newberry, Fla., a day or two ago wa* that after Darling had been cut in twain he opened hi* mouth two or three time* a* though endeavoring to speak, but death quickly sealed hi* lip*