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A House of Mystery OR, THE GIRL IN BLUE iOi>so«hf 9OH^fi(4«-fo>«i4n>a40-f ^«4^o>»4a^o>040>«fn« CHAPTER XXIX. At five o'clock that same after- noea I alighted from a hangotn be- fore the Langhsm Hotel, and pre- â- eating my card at the bureau, in- quired for Miss Anson. The cleric looked at me rather curiously, I thought, glanced at the card, and •ntering the telephone-box, spoke •ome words into the instrument. I was shown into a small room OB the first floor, where I waited until a gantleinanly, middle-aged, f^ir-headed man entered, with my card in his hand. "Good afternoon," he said, greet- inr me rather stiffly. "Her,High- tttBt is at present out driving. I* there anything I can do ? I am her â- ecretary." "Her Highness!" I echoed, w.i,h a smile. "There must be some mis- take. 1 have called to see Miss Jdabel Anson." He regarded me with some sur- prise. "Are you, then, unaware that Anton is the name adopted by Her "'•^ness to preserve her incogni- ta f" he asked, glancing at me in quick suspicioa. "Are you not aware of her real rank and sta- tion?" "No!" I cried, in blank amaze- ment. "This is indeed a revelation t-o me ! I have known Miss Anson intimately during the past six years. What is her true rankt" "The lady whom you know as Miss Anson it Her Imperial High- btii the Archduchess Marie Eliza- beth Mabel, third daughter of Hit Majesty the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria. * 'Mabel ! The daughter of an Ert- perorl" I gatped involuntarily. "Impossible!^' He shrugged hit ihoulders. He was a foreigner, although he spoke English wellâ€" an Austrian most probably. "You are surprised," he laughed. "Many people have also been sur- prised, as the Arcbducheat living Ji! England nearly her whole life, . has frequently been taken for an Englishwoman." "1 can't believe it!' I cried. "Surely there must be tome mis- take I" I remembered iliose days of long ago when we had wandered to- f ether in Kensington Gardens, low charming and ingenuous she was ; how sweet and unaffected by worldly vanities, how trustful was that look when she gazed into my eyes ! Her air was never that of the daughter of the reigning House oi Hapsbourg-Lorraine. She had poss«!itted ail the enchantment of ideal grace without the dignity of rank, and it seemed incredible that she was actually a princess whose home was the most nrilliant Court of Europe, "I can quite understand your lurprise," observed the secretary "But what is the nature of your business with Her Highness f "It is of a i)\irely private na- ture." He glanced at the card. "The Archduchess does not re- ceive calleri," ho answered coldly. "But at least you will give her my name, and tell her that I have something of \irgent importance to communicate to her," I cried eag- erly. He hesitated. "If you arc, at you allege, an old friend, I will place your card before her," he taid at lait, with some hesitatioa. "Yuu may leave your address, and It Her Highness consents to receive juu I will communicate with you.' "No," I answered in detpera- tion ; "I will remain and await her return." "That is irnpostiblo," he respond- ed "She has many engagements, and certainly cannot receive you to-day." 1 recollected that the letter I had found at Denbury aiade it plain that we had parted abruptly. If this man gave her my card without any word, it was more than likely that she would refuse to see me. Therefore I entered into argu- ment with him, hut while I was speaking the door opened suddenly, and my love stood before me. She halted there, elegantly dressed, having just returned from her drive, and for a moment we faced each oCher speechless. 'Mr. Heaton !" she cried, and (ben, in breathless hurry arising from the sudden and joyful sur- piiic, sl>e rushed fuiward. Our hands grasped. For the mo- ment I could utter no word. The recretary, noticing our mutual em- barrasement, discreetly withdrew, closing the door after him. Once again I found myself, after those six lost years, alone with my love. "At last!" I cried. "At last I have found you, after all these months!" I was earnestly gazing into her great dark eyes. She had altered but little since that nignt long ago at The Boltous, when 1 had discovered the traces of that hideous tragedy. "And why have you come back to me now t" she inquired in a low, strained voice. "I have striven long and diligent- !•, to find you," I answered frank- ly, "becauseâ€" because I wished to tell you how I love you â€" that I have loved you always â€" from the firtt moment that we met." A grave expression crotted her countenance. "And yet you forsook me I You calmly broke off the secret engage- ment that we had mutually made, and left me without a single word. You have married," she added re- sentfully, "therefore it it scarcely fitting that you should come here with a false declaration upon your lips. ' "It ia no falre declaration, I swear,'' I cried. "As for my wife, I knew her not, and she is now dead." "Dead!" she gasped. "You knew her not! I don't understand." "I have loved you always â€" al- ways. Princess â€" for I have only ten minutes ago ascertained your true rank " "Mabel to youâ€" as always," she said, softly interrupting me. "Ah, thank you for those words !" I cried, taking her small gloved hand. "I have loved you from the first moment that we met at the Colonel's, loag agoâ€" you remember that night t" "1 shall never forget it," she fal- tered in that low tone as of old, which was as sweetest music to my eari. "And you remember^that even- ing when I dined with you at The Boltonsi" I said. "Incomprehen- sible though it may seem, I began a new life from that night, and for six whole years have existed in a state of utter unconsciousness of all the past. Will you consider me in- sane if I tell you that I have no knowledge whatever of meeting you after that night, and only knew of our engagement by discovering this letter among my private papers a couple of months ago?" and I drew her letter from ray pocket. "Your words sound most remark- able," sho said, deeply interested. "Relate the whole of the facts to me. But first come along to my sitting-room. Wo may be inter- rupted here." And she led the way to the end Cpf the corridor, where we entered an elegant little salon, one of the handsome suite of rooms the occu- pied. She drew forth a chair for me, and allov'iiig a niiddlo-aged gentlc- womanâ€"lior lady-in-waiting, I pre- tume -to take her hat and gloves, we once more found ourtelves alone. How exquisitely beautiful she was ! Yet her royal birth, alas ! placed her beyond my reach. All my hopes and aspirations had been in an instant cruihed by the know- ledge of her rank. I could only now relate to her the truth, and seek her forgiveness for what had seem- ed a cruel injustice. I took her unresisting hand, and told her how long ago I had loved her, not daring to expose to her the great secret of my heart. If we had mutually decided upon marriage, and I had deliberately deserted her, it was, I declared, because of that remarkable unconsciousness which had blotted out all knowledge of my life previous to that last night when we had dined together, and I had accompanied the man Hickman to his lodgings. "But tell me all," she urged, "so that I can understand and judge accordingly." And then, beginning at the begin- ning, I recountcfl the whole of the »nia:eing facts, just as I have nar- rated them to the reader in these foregoing chapters. I think the telling occupied most part of aa hour; but the sat there, her lovely eyes fixed upon me, her mouth half open, held dumb and motionless by the strange story I unfolded. Once or twice she gave vent to ejaculations of surprise, and I saw that only by dint of supreme effort did she wicceeJ in preserving her self-control. 1 told her every- thing. I did not seek to conceal one single fact. "And he was actually murdered I I my house 1" she cried, starting np at last. "You were present?" I explained to her in detail the events of that fateful night. "Then at last the truth is plain !" the exclaimed. "You have supplied the key to the enigma for which I have been bo long in search!" "Tell me," I said, in breathless earnestness. "All these years I have been striving in vain to solve the problem." She pauced, her dark, fathomloss eyes fixed upon me, as though lacking courage to tell me the truth. "I deceived you, Wilford, from the first," she faltered. "I hid from you the secret of my birth, and it was at my request Colonel Channing â€" who, of course, knew me well when he was British At- tache at Viennaâ€" refused to tell you the truth. You wonder, of course, that I should live in Eng- land incognita. Probably, howev- er, you know that ray mother, the man you met on that night f" "Hickman!" I cried. "Was ha really a police-agent t" "Yes. He induced you, it ap- pears, to go tu a lodging he had taken for the purpose, and with- out my knowledge gare you a drug- ged cigar. You tell unconscious, and this enabled him to thoroughly overhaul your pockets, and also to g) to your chambers during the night, enter with your latch-key, and make a complete search, the re- sult of which convinced us both that }ou had no hard in tne missing man's disappearance, in cpite of the fact that hit dress-stud and pencil- case were in your possession. On the following morning, however, *hen you were but half consciou;;â€" Hickman having taen returned from making his search at Essex Street â€" you accidentally struck your head a violent blow on the corner of the stone mantel-shelf. This blow, to severe that they were compelled to rtmove you to the hospital, appar- ently affected your brain, for when I met you again a month later you seemed curiously vacant in mind, : and had iio recollection whatever of the events that had passed." "I bad none, I assure you," I said. "It seemed marvellous that you should be utterly in ignorance of what followed," she went on, her sweet eyes ttill gazing deeply into , . „ , , -_ , ,- . mine. "You told me how you loved late Empress loved England and ^xe, and I, loving you in return, the English. She gave me an Eng- ] „,. entered upon a clandestine en- Iith name at my baptism and when | gagement that wat to be secret from only five years of age I was seit i .u. a few summer months went here to be educated. At seventeen I returned to Vienna, but soon be- came tired of the eternal glitter of palace life, and a year or two lat- er, as soon at I was of age and my own raistresR, I returned to Lon- don, took into my service Mrs. An- son, the widow of an English offi- cer well known to my mother, and in order to preserve my incognita l^A^^^VMWM^^N#^(AAMli^ WEANING F0AIJ3. Foala, as a rule, had better bai weaned at five to six months old. They should be used to being kept in a box stall with the dam part of e&ch day for some time befor» weaning, and, while the mare ia tied, some chopped oats and brau kept in a box or manger for the foal to nibble at. If the mare is needed fcr work, she may be returned to the foal twice or three times a day, and then lets frequently each day, thus drying her gradually, or, aa some prefer, the foal may be wean- ed by taking it away from its dam at once, for good and all, provided it has previously learned to eat and drink, in which case the mare should be kept far enough away to pi event her hearing the foal call, and milked twice a day at first, and later once b. day, to avoid trouble from raammitis, till she ia suffici- ently dry to be safe. If there are two foals on the farm to be weaned, ii. is better to ke-jp them together for company, as one is likely to worry from louelineas. Aitsr the tly season is over, it is good practice to allow the foal the run of a yard ex paddock daily for exercise, and it should be fed regularly a fairly liberal ration of a mixture of chop- ped oats and bran, and, if avau- love for me slowly died, and you married a woman twice your age. J ,. ^- -, I Can you imagine my feelings ? i caused her to pass as my mother. ^^, heart-broken, Wilford-utterly I took the house at The BoJtons, | j^e^^.^roken." bv, happy, joyous months, the most P^** «*'» *'"* '»'â- Â»'». »nd, if avai blissful in all my life, and thenj *'»'«' » carrot or iwo, m addition your love suddenly cooled. You 'S,,^".** K""** tweet clover hay it had embarked in financial schemes ii. the Cityâ€" you were becoming en- riched by some concessions in Bul- garia, it was whisperedâ€" but your Kf,**". *"«^ °^^^' ^ee** being gradu- ally increased as the foal growi oiUer. Attention sliould be given t his hoofs, which will be liable to grow long aud unshapely unless will clean up between meals. This treatment should be continued through the winter, the amount of and only Colonel and Mrs. Chan ning knew my real station. I was passionately fond of music, and de- fired to complete my ttudies, be- bVain had sides which I am intensely fond of London and of life unfettered by : tho trammels which must hamper th« daughter of an Emperor." "You preferred a quiet, free life in London to that at your father s Court?" "Exactly." she answered. "At twenty-one I had had my fill of life at Court, and found existence in London, where I was unknown, far more pleasant. Besides Mrs. An- ton, I had a companion a young Englishwoman who had been gover- ness in a well-known family in Vi- enna. Her name was Grainger." "Grainger?" I cried. "Edna Grainger?" "The same. She wat my compan- ion. Well, after I had been estab- lished at The Bolton.^ nearly a year I met, while on a visit to a country house, a young man with whom I became on very friendly terms â€" Prince Alexander, heir to the throne of Bulgaria. We met often, and altthough I still passed us Mabel Anson, our acquaintance- ship ripened into a mutual affec- tion. With a disregard fur the con- venances, I induced Mrs. Anson to invite him on several occasions to The Boltons. One morning, how- ever, I received a private message from Count de Walkenstcin-Tros- ihurg, our ambasKador here, say- ing that he had received a cipher telegraphic despatch that my father, the Emperor, was very unwell, and his Excellency suggested that I should return to Vienna. This I did, accoinpauiea by Mrs. Anson, and leaving the woman Grainger ill charge of the household a^ ukual. I wrote to the young Pri.ice from Vienna, but received no reply, and when I returned a fortnight later searched for him in vain. He had mysteriously disappeared. A few days before, in my dreams, I bad seen the fatal raven, the evil omen of my House and feared the worst.' "Then the man who was murder- ed at The Boltont on that night was none other than Prince Alex- ander, thti licit i,\> the throue of Bulgaria!" I cried. "Without a doubt,'' the answer- ed. "What you have just told me makes it all plain. You took from the dead man's pocket a small gold pencil-case, and you will remember that I recognized it at one that I bad given him. It was that fact which caused me to suspect you." "Suspect me? Did you believe me guilty of murder?" "I did not then know that niur- dct had been committed All that was known was that the heir to the throne had mysteriously disappear- ed. The terrible truth 1 have just learnt from your lips. The discov- ery that the little gift I had made to him was in your postettion fill- ed me with tuspiciuu, and in order t'. solve the myttery I invoked the aid of the pi'.ice-agent attached to our Embassy, and invited both of you to dine, iu order that he might meet you. You will remembar the "But I knew not what I was do- ing!" I hastened to declare. "I loved you always â€" always. My been injured by that blow, and all my tastes and feelings thereby became inverted." "I remained in England a few weeks longer, wandered aimlattly hither and thither, and then at last returned to Vienna and plunged in- to th( vortex of gaiety at Court, in order to forget my sorrow." trimmed and rasped occasionally to keep them in good shape. REGULARITY IN FEEDING. A horse that is fed re:::alarly will be in better condition on three mea- sures of oats iU the day than one that is fed irregularly will be ou four. He knows exactly when his attendant will feed him, and does not weary for his meals ; whereas a horse that is fed at any or all times it' never really satisfied, and will And that woman Grainger ? worry while waiting for his care What of her? "She left my service about a month after that night when met with your accident at The Bol- tcns. I have not seen her since I then related how for the past less attendant and his meals. Ir- regularity iu feeding is also a pro- yoijtiuctive cause of many stable vicet. No more straw or hay should be {'laced before a horse in the morn- ing than he will eat up cleanly in month I had been closely watching an hour, a less quantity should be her, and repeated the conversation I had overheard at Hull between her and hor visitors on the previ- ous night. "The woman, after leaving my service, has, it seems, somehow be- c(>me an agent of the Bulgarian Government. She knows the truth," the said decisively. "We must ob- tain it from her." "It was a woman who struck the joung Prince down!'' I exclaimed quickly. "Of that I am certain. My love reflected for a brief in- stant. "Perhaps," she said. "The wo- man was jealous of the attention he paid me." (To bo Continued.) given at midday, and in the even- ing she should never get any more than will reasonably serve him over right. Regularity in feeding is im- portant in any class of live stock ui insuring the best results. In FARM NOTES, filling walls with sawdust, PERPETUAL. Bowser met Jenks the other day, and asked him what he was doing for a living. "Soiling a deodorizing powuer." "Last time I taw you you were selling an insect powder to be tirinkled on the floor." "I know; now I am goin^ round to the same houses telling thit ditin- fectant to get the smell of the in- sect powder out of the house. Next week I'll sell a mixture to drive away the smell of the disinfectant." HER LAST CHANCE. Oride-Elect â€" "Mamma insists on cur having a stylish church wed- ding." Groom-Elect â€" "I wonder why?" Bride-Eloctâ€" "She says it will probably be the last time I'll ever have a rhauce to show off in good clothes." QITITE PROPERLY BACKWARD. "He's quite a classical scholar, isn't he?'' "Well, he's backward in reading Hebrew." "You don't soy? I thought he was particularly good at that." "So he is but that's the way you have to read Hebrew." PROOF. Sniggins (angrily >â€" "Do you know that your chickens come over to ray yard?'' Snooktâ€" "I supposed that they whether for silos, icehouses or root- bins, the sawdust should be dry and well packed down, or it will shrink and settle and leave empty spaces. There is such a thing as being too economical about the expenditure of money for farm tools. True, tools of all kinds cost. And yet, th-i man who expects to keep up with the procession iu these days of sharp competition must be prepared with the latest improved farm imple- ments to do his work promptly and ir season. Rye can be towed for a cover crop- a; late as October, but the earlier it is sown the better growth it will make and the more perfectly it will cover the ground. When plowed under, rye adds nothing to tho soil but organic matter made from plant- food already in the soil. On tbe^ other hand, crimson clover, being, a legume, takes nitrogen from tn»< air and atores it up in the soil. For- this reason it makes a far better cover crop than rye. There it no labor more universal, among cultivatora than the attemp- ted dettruction of weedt and there I's none which ia commonly gone about with more irregularity and want of system. Weeds infest near- ly all cultivated grounds, and their destruction is generally attempted after they have grown a foot high, more or lets, either by laboriout hand labor, or more rapidly but more imperfectly with the work of horses. In the garden, it is mostly perforated, if at all, by the hand; in the large cornfield the ploy and' cultivator turn over or tear up the large weeds and leave many un- touched. The true management- should be the commencment of this labor with the planting or »>wing, o! the crop. There are more than 5,000 moior- bcats already on the canals of Hol- land. The growth of tho beard la- did, for they never come beck strongest in most men on the right- »«•"»• I hand Sid*.