THE NOVELIST.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4114, 27 September 1884, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE NOVELIST.

TEE FALSI 3PBINGSBS; OR, Ths Curse's Daughter. By Leon Lewis. CHAPTER. XVI r. AXOTITER IMMINENT PEIUL. The hushed, unci oppressive silence that followed the revelations of 'Hinon continued so long without word or movement on the part of Odie and her mother, that he perceived the necessity of breaking it himself. ' I see that yon realise the hopelessness of contradicting me,' lie said, smilingly. 'This lonjr silence is evidently confession. . The mother and daughter stirred nnpasily, and even mnde an effort to deny the allegations Dimon had made against them, but the words died away in their throat?. They were too nearly palsied with terror and constcrnalion, in fact, to possess the usual control of their faculties. ' And since you are what you arc, , resumed Dimnn, ' and since I know what you are, yon ■will not have the least, difficulty in perceiving that you are now entirely at my mercy. The mask you have worn and are still wearing bofore all the world is no ma*k to me. You nro alike open books under my gaze. You, the pretended Bertha of Scnlis, who call yourself the wife of Prince Pepin— you are only Odie, the serf-girl, the daughter of a serf-mother, And you, old womnn, , he added, turning to Manette, 'you are only a nurse, a chattel in a household you have wronged and disgraced, a wretched criminal, find one whose crimes will not bo half expiated even if you should be burned at the stake.' The couple could only stare at their tinmasker and shake with the palsy of their terror. But all is not yet lost, said Dimon, with a sudden change of manner, as ho drew his chair nearer to that of Odie. ' I hare made no outcry, betrayed nothing essential to any member of your household, have kept, in fact, the dread secret between ourselves. And upon this great basis of security, what do you say to making terms with me looking to the keeping of the secret forever ?' At this suggestion, there was a sudden flutter of life and hope on the part of Odie and Manette. ' Oh, if you would !' faltered Odie, as she dropped upon her knees before Dimon, clasping her hands. ' If you would be merciful, and not expose me to any one, never, never ! there is nothing I would not do for yon.' ' Oh, if you would !' gasped the nurse, as she staggered forward and dropped upon her knees beside her daughter and in the same attitude. 'You admit all, then ?' returned Dimon, ooking from one to the other. ' Yes, all,' they answered in chorus. ' It follows, then, that you are entirely at my mercy, as just now suggested ?' The nurse dumbly assented. ' Yea, yes. But bo merciful!' pleaded Odie. ' I see. You are ready to make terms with me,' said Dimon, with a further change in his manner of the same nature as the preceding one. ' Doubtless you are ready, Odie, to give me rank, and honors, and riches.' ' Everything at my disposal,' declared Odie. ' Then it will be easy for us to come to an agreement,' said Dimon. ' Be calm, please. Tuke your chairs again ; let us get at the matter in a business manner. I did not come here, of course, until I had arranged in my mind a way of departure.' The mother and daughter, leaping at once to the conclusion that they could buy Dimon, became calm on the instant. Rising and resuming their seats, they wiped their damp foreheads, and exchanged glances pxpres.'ivc of the feeling that they had been more scared than hurt. Jn short, from the depths of terror and despair, the soul of Odie was suddenly lifted to I he highest summits of pleapure and hope. The rigidity passed from her features, as did the pallor. The stony glare left her eyes, which began to beam caressingly upon Dimon. Her frame ceased to tremble. In a word, she became herself. ' Did I understand you that the —the real Bertha is alive ?' «he asked. 'Yes,'answered Limon. ' Servis allowed her to live, merely requiring from her a promise to never show herself to any one who had known her, or to declare her name and identity. But I have had the good fortune to encounter her in the gretit forest where she was tarrying, and have conducted her to a place of safety.' ' You know where she is, then ?' ' Certainly. I can produce her at any moment.' ' Who knows of her continued existence and identity ?' ' No one, except myself. 'Are you sure yen have guarded the secret so perfectly as that ?' ' Perfectly sure.' At this response Odie made a pretence of shaking out a fold of her robe but the movement was really made to enable her to give her mother an exulting look which said us plainly as words : ' You see what a fool he is, after all. I will wind him around my finger.' In good truth, Dimon .seemed to be a sort of innocent, or else, the possessor of such an elastic conscience as to be willing to trade upon the secret he had discovered. ' I suppose I now ought, to tell you who I am ? ho observed, with a still further change of manner, as he drew his chair close To Odic's. ' Oh, yes —yes,' was her response. You have not yet said a word on that point, and yet it is one in which we are greatly interested. Pleaee tell us at once, who you are. , ' To begin with, , said the visitor, 'I call myself Dimon. '1 here is really a family of that name, as you may be aware —' ' Oh, yes ; the Dimons of Divonvi'lc. I know of them, , interrupted Odie. 'They stand very high. A ml so you call yourself by their name? Capital! Goon!' ' And now as to my reasons for travelling in this direction,' said Dimon. '1 he fact is,' —and he lowered his voice to the lowest tone of confidential communication, —' a man has been found dead near Senlis, and an enemy of mine has been so base as to declare that i killed him.' ' Oh, ah ? murmured Odie, flushing with joy as she patted Dimon approvingly and understandingly. ' I comprehend. You have been wrongfully accused.' ' Yes, that's iV ■ ' And so yon have fled —ha, ha!' ' And so I havo fled—ho, ho !' ' Bravo !' cried the nurse, as she dropped her late terror as abruptly as she would have dropped an old skirt from Her person. 'I see that all is right, £eignor Dimon. It. seems that you have your little secrets, much the same as ourselves. , ' Oil ! everybody has them, of course. , . ' I see ! 1 see !' murmured Odie, who was now entirely emancipated from tho terrible dread which had so, lately oppressed her. ' Not liking to be unjustly accused of such a crime as murder —' ; ' I resolved to' seek nic out a new home,' resumed Dimon;' and very naturally thought of. the court of .Prince Pepin. It was in the course of the journey thus resolved upon that I encountered the "real Bertha, and attained to a comprehension of j the gigantic comedy in which you and your mother are.figuring.' 'All this miikes, everything as; plain as day to me,' commented Odie, as a look pi crafty resolve camo into jier eyes..- 'It whs tho luckiest day of your life when you turned your steps, in this direction. .But why do wo proceed,bo formally in our little affairs ?'she suddenly asked, .with the air of interrupting herself. ' Lay off your cloak Seignor Dimon. As you are doubtless awai'O, tho prince has cruelly deserted me, ; oven before our hpnoymoon " is ended, and has gonoto Jardon to hujit. - ~ ■ ' Y«8, I was told so much to my surpriso, upon my arrivals hero;! .■■■■:.■;,.•: .>-;* , ■."■' ' : t 'Bui that regret is not without its recoiu-

poimV continued Odio, speaking in a whisper, and assuming a manner worthy of n siren. 'We shall not be interrupted nor restrained in the pleasant interview upon which we hare now entered.' To judge by the manner of Dimon, he received all these words and acts at their pretended value. 'And, by the war, mother,' resumed Gdie, turning to the nurse, ' can't you give us a few refreshments ? Siegnor Dimon may not have had any supper, as ho is fresh from a long journey. In any case, it won't hurt any of us to haTe a bite of something good.' 1 Fortunately I have at hand just what you require,' said Manette, as she arose and prepared to leave the room. 'I will be absent but a few moments.' She had no sooner withdrawn than Odie, hovering over Dimon, threw her arms around his neck, and kid her head against his shoulder. 'As you may be aware, , she whimpered, in the most wheedling accents she could assume, ' Charles Martel has long been suffering from infirmities which the physicianspronounceincurable. It cannot be a great while, in the ordinary course of events, before ho dies; and when ho dies Pepin will succeed to one of the finest crowns in Europe.' Dimon nodded smilingly, to signify that so plum a prospect could not fail to be fully understood by him. 'You have only to keep my secret, therefore,'resumed Odio ; 'and especially to become a co-worker with mo, to secure any station in the world of which you may be envious. Do you wisli to remain at Pepin's court! You have only to name the place you would like, and it shall be yours, with all its honors and titles. Do you wish to reside abroad ? I will cause sin embassy to be created for you at any court you may be pleased to mention. , ' Believe me, my thanks are proportionate to the honors you intend me,' returned Dimon ; ' but it is understood and agreed, of course, that there is to be no deception between us, and that we are to be true to each other in all our promises and agreements?' ' Of course —of course.' 'Any word or fact contrary to this good faith would, of course, discharge the party suffering such word or fact from all further obligation in the premises.' 'Most assuredly. All agreements of the kind are binding upon one party only so long as they are kept by the other. But as I can make it so very much to your interest to keep faith with me,' she added, still trying to wheedle him witli voice and smile, 'I do not fear you will ever betray me.' She had a double reason for this faith in the premises; and the principal one was, that she did not mean to give him a chance to betray her. She was industriously but silently pursuing her little arts upon Dimon when the nurse returned to the apartment with a large tray, loaded witli all the delicacies of a regal lunch.' ■ 'Why, you must think I hare had nothing to eat for a week !' exclaimed Dimon, in apparent admiration, as soon as his eyes rested upon the contontsof the tray. ' There's enough for a dozen !' 'I like to do these things properly," declared Manette, as siie placed the tray upon a table, and drew the table close to Dimon. ' With such a variety before you you are suro to find something to suit the most fastidious taste.' 'You should have brought another bottle of wine, mother,' suggested Odie. ' There'll hardly be enough to go around.' ' I do not care for wine,' said Dimon, if you will allow mo to mention my wants. As surprising as it may seem to you, I would much prefer a cup of good milk.' The mother and daughter exchanged glances of intelligence, and the nurse said : ' I am glad, Seignor Dimon, you do me tho honor of stating your preferences. I will bring the milk, of course, with the greatest of pleasure ; and since you do. not care for wine,' she added, 'I will brine a lighter brand for the use of her highness and myself. , -■'.. As ehe again retired f roni the room, and while Odio was busily arranging tho collation upon the table, Dimon suddenly turned his back upon the false princess under pretence of examining a picture upon one of the walls of the apartment, and swallowed the contents of a small bottle he had drawn from his pocket. ' A very finepicture, , he said. 'One of your own choice, I suppose ?' 'No; it was here when I came. But be seated at the table, please. I hope you will make yourself quite at home and not stand upon ceremony. , Bowing his thanks, Dimon dismissed a strange twinklo from his eyes, and took the ei'ut proffered him. ' To what shall I help you, Princess ?' he asked, looking over the cold meats and fruits and cake with a critical eye. ' Oh, don't mind me, thank you !' replied Odie. ' I will nibble at whatever takes my fancy. I fear the fright you gave me has upset my appetite for the moment. These grapes are very tempting, however.' Accepting the bunch Dimon instantly proffered her, she proceeded to dally with the luscious fruit, and Dimon followed her example. • 'Ah, here is mother! , said Odie, as the nurse appeared again. ' As we siro quite by ourselves, Seignor Dimon, you won't object to her sitting clown with us ?' ' Certainly not. I'm afraii we should find it difficult to prove that wo are any better than she is. , Manette accordingly took her seat at the table, first placing before Dimon the largo goblet of milk she had procured for him. ' This seems to me to be the natural drink of man,' said Dimon. 'At any rate, I prefer it to wine on such occasions as the present. , lie sipped the liquid quietly, taking care to taste it, but without allowing his companions to see that he did so. The singular twinkle we have mentioned Hgain traversed his eyes. ' 1 think all my talking and excitement has made me thirsty, , lie proceeded, as he noted how eagearly the two women were watching him, but without appearing to do so. 'Many thanks, good mother Manette, .■ for your treat. , , He drank a good proportion of the milk at a draught, und then turned his attention to the fruit. .. ■ ■ A barely audible gaspof salisfuctionand relief came from Manette and was echoed by Odie. ' And now that we are so cosy, , said Dimon, as ho looked from one to the other, ' let us proceed to arrange tho terms of our agreomeut. How shall we get at it ? Let nio ace." . Ho rested his brow upon his hands and regarded tho couple between his lingers, noting the joyous exultation by which their frames were now shaken. ; 1 Let's see,' he murmured, slowly/ ' Suppose we arrange the matter—in some such way as this. lam to keep the secret —ye,s, I? Isn't' the light going otifc ?' .: ■ ( No, no,' answered Odio. i ' Then it seems— Whcro was I ? Suppose we say—suppose— , .'■••■.■ The word died awuy upon his lips. His head pitched forward upon his breast, and then he slipped from bis chair to the lloqr, whore he lay an apparently inert mass. ; 'I thought Td settle him, , whispered Manette. 'I put into the milk poison enough to kill a dozen like him. , > ■::>:■-.' 'Let's bide him under tho tablo till we see our way to the final disposal, of him,' proposed Odie, arising, ,' ;■< ■..,•..;.■ j This step was instantly takcn,;but not an instant too soon it seemed,to tho couple.; for at that very moment there came a sharp knock upon the door of the apartment. -■ ; ' Who can it be ?'. breathed Odie, startled and wondering. As she unlocked and opened the door, a man hastily entered. To the horror and consternation of tho guilty couple this man was —Servis, the wagoner! . CHAPTER XVIII. . ■ TJIB VT ED l>l KG RIN.G. ; . True lo the resolution he had taken, Princo

Pepin entered his carriage at a seasonable hour of (lie day succeeding his first interview with the real Bertha and set out for the mill at which she was tarrying. He was accompanied by Hemper, his astrologer and confidential ngent. ' Did you consult the stars List, night, my wi;e man ?' demanded Pepin, as he was whirled rapidly towards his destination. ' I did, your highness,' was the reply,' but not successfully—' ' Indeed ! A frank admission ! I thought you always had I he stars where you could put your hands upon (hem. , ' Excuse me, your highness, the evening was too cloudy for me to reach satisfactory results. As far as the clouds permitted, however, all I learned wns most promising.' ' The young lady is well-born, then ?' ' JSxtremcly so. In fact, there is something very marked in her birth and history. Her parents are -very distinguished and powerful. But the weather has not permitted me to go further in her history. ' 1 you can snfely nver, however, that she is not a daughter of the miller ?' 'That much is certain. ' As everybody was aware of the fact the astrologer did not risk a great deal by the assertion. 'If she won't tell ue who she is, , said Pepin, half seriously, ' you can learn when she was born and cast her horoscope upon that biisis.' 'The very thing T have resolved upon.' ' Between ns we must find out something definite about her, Hemper.' ' I have found out some very intei'3sting circumstances about her already, your highness.' This was true. Not having boon able to road the stars on tho previous evening for the reasons he had stated,'nnd a number of better ones, ITeinppr had disguised himself and gone on a secret visit to the mill nnd its neighborhood, making a great many inquiries about the mysterious young lady and learning all that was known concerning her. The moving cause of this measure was, of course, the great interest he had seen Pepin man'festing in hei , . ' Well, what have you learned ? asked the prince, eagerly. ' That tho young lady is unusually pious, praying regularly overv .morning and evening ; that she understands the learned languages ; that sho is familiar with the names and histories of all the leading people in the land, appearing to have had personal acquaintance with many of them ; that she is of the sweetest and most charming disposition, an»l that it is utterly impossible that there should bo anything in her history contrary to the most perfect virtue and good faith. In a word, from all T can learn she is a rare marvel of beauty and goodness.' Tho prince made a light reply, in which he profesjed to mock the astrologer for his faith in human nature, in general, and for his faith in Bertha in particular, but it was easy to see that ho was pleased with the declarations of Hoinper. In fact, the prince went off into a pleasant reverie, that lasted until the carriage swept up to the entrance of the miller's dwelling. Tho joyous politeness and reverence with which the worthy miller and his wife, dressed in their best, advanced to meet the prince, will be easily imagined. ' I had the pleasure of seeing your daughters at Jardon yesterday, I believe, sir?' said Pepin, as he threw the miller into a state approaching ecstasy by offering his hand. 'Yes, you did, your highness,' declared the miller, ' and here they are again.' The prince greeted the couple most graciously. 'And this, your highness, is my good wife,' exclaimed the miller, with a glow of joyTho wife's reception wua all thatcould have been desired. ' And with your children,' then said the prince, ' I had tho pleasure of seeing—' ' The young lady herself, your highness, , interrupted tho miliar, as Bertha came fluttering out into the porch, all joyous animation, with her soul in her eyes, nnd yet so timid and modest, as well as so sad and unrestful, that the prince was a thousand times more struck by her appearance than upon the day preceding. 'I hope you are quito recovered from the accident of yesterday,' said Pepin, as he pressed her hand to his lips, and at the same time remarked its exceeding delicacy and beauty. ' No ill effects have followed ?' ' None, your highness. Accept my thanks for the great honor you have done me in calling to inquire about me.' ' And ours for the grent honor your highness has clone us in visiting our humble home, , said the miller, bowing himself nearly to the earth, us did his wife and daughters. ' Please walk in, your highness.' •Thanks, 1 said'Pepin. He had no sooner entered the house, leaving the astrologer in the carriage- to await him, than tho miller and his family took themselves oft' into an adjoining apartment, knowing that the visit of the prince was particularly for Bertha, and that all was expected.of them was to lend their countenance to that interview. Informed beforehand of the expected viiit, the miller's wife had bestirred herself to make Bertha as presentable as possible, supplying her with a variety of these little necessities of dress of which she was in need, and without which no beauty can do justice to itself- The result was that Bertha felt more like herself on this ocetision than at any time since the crime in the woods. It would be hard, in fact, to find a more charming picture of loveliness than she presented, with her thrills of agitation , her sensitiveness lo tho honor of which she wus the object, and with a wild hope underlying nil the regrets of the moment that something good would come out of her meeting with Pepin. ' Please be seated, your highness,' said Bertha, us she placed a chnir for the prince. Pepin bowed his acceptance, but before seating himself in the chair moved it nearer to that towards which Bertha had turned. As trifling as was tho incident, it brought a rosy glow to her cheeks—a glow that was followed by the pallor of a keen anguish. ■ 'How are you situated here? asked Pepin, looking around upon the neat and even tnsfcefully furnished apartment. ' Very comfortably, indeed. The good miller and his family do all they can to make me forget tho wrongs I have suffered. : ' You do not care to change your quarters, then?' I . ' Oh, no, no !' 'Were it otherwise, I should be pleased to send you to the pulace of Her-lal as an honored guest, in somo nominal position, where your chief duty would be to enjoy yourself and be happy. Is there nothing I can do for you? , ' * ' ' ■ '< ' Nothing, your highness. , ' ; . ' When do you expect Bimon back ?' ; ' To-day or to-morrow— themoreespecially as your absence from : Herat nl lias rendered his journey thither useless. , 'He wished to see mo in person, then ?' ; ■ ' Yes, your highness: , he has failed to sec you, may I not plead his cause for him ?' 'He could not have a belter advocate. , , 'Allow me to briefly slate his errand. He has been unjustly accused of murder,and an enemy has suborned witnesses, whose testimony, not being easily, disproved, would be likely to make the case go hard with him. He has accordingly fled to your court, with the intention of stating all the facts, and imploring your powerful protection. , ' Is he your lover ?' 'Oh no! He is betrothed to a noble lady of Senlis, whom hoi expects to rejoin him as soon nshe is sure how your highness will re-, ceive him !' . ' Tell him, then, when you see him, to dispose of mo in any way ho pleases. Jf t/on can vouch for hie goodness and honor —' ' Oh, I can—l can '.' ' Then any and all accusations against him will necessarily fall to the ground. Doco ho know your history? your troubles? thowrongs of which you have spoken ?' ij-.':l".:havo not told him a great deal about uiyself, being restrained by uiy promise, but

ho seems to liarc guessed a groat many of my secret?, during our long journey together through the forest.' 'All! you have been journeying; in the forest ? You come, then, from (ho direction of Senlis ?' The girl blushed in confusion. The prince was visibly pleased at the point ho hud made. ' I must not ?ay where I came from,' said Bertha, as a deep shade of gravity chased the smiles from her face. 'My promise binds me!' ' To»i must, maintain the same reserve, then, that afflicted me so much yesterday ?' 'I must, your highness.' ' I am sorry,' said Pcpin, drawing his chair still nearer nnd taking her hand. 'Iliad hoped to find some honorable way out of the sorrow in which you are placed. If you can show me tiny way in which T can be of service to you, I shall be most happy to use all my power for your vindication or protection. . The words —no less than the manner with which they were spoken —touched Bertha deeply. ' I shall never forget this kindness,' she murmured. 'Alas! (hat we meet so late ! and with such an abyss between us!' Her soul was nguin convulsed with a sense of her misfortunes, and she found it, impossible to repress.the tears that welled to her eyes. ' Why, what abyss can possibly be between us ?' asked the prince. ' Perhaps you exaggerate the power of your enemies—' ' Oh, no—no ! They have wrecked my lifa —made all my future n desert!' ' Oin you not put confidence in mo ?' suggested the prince. ' Js there no way of obtaining release from your promise. Ah .'' The lone of the ejaculation with which Pcpin interrupted himself is indescribable. A score of stormy emotions blended in it in ono wild astonishment-. ' My ring ! my wedding ring !' ho shouted, as he caught one of the girl's hands in a rude grasp and held it to the light. 'The very same ! The ring I sent to Bertha, by tho hands of Mydon! Tho ring that was so strangely lost, in the wilderness! I should know it. among all the rings in the world ■' Fora full minute his glances alternated between the ring and its wearer, before he could so far control his excitement as to enter upon any inquiries in regard to this mystery. ' You are no doubt surprised at my conduct,' he finally said, 'but that ring upon your finger is the very ring I sent to Bertha of Senlis as a wedding gift. How did you come by it ?' Withdrawing her hand from that; of Pepin, and shaking with an emotion she could not conceal, Bertha arose and began pacing hurriedly to and fro. ' That ring is a part of my secret,' she murmured, 'and my promise does not, permit me to answer your question —as I would otherwise gladly do—and tell you how it came into my possession !' The brow of tho prince clouded. A strange flood of thoughts came rushing over his soul. Could it be that the beautiful girl before him was, after all, the wife or daughter of some brigand of the forest ? ' Impossible ! Her noble beauty forbade any such conclusion ! Had there been anything wrong on her part in tho acquisition of the ring ? Impossible, again. He could not and would not believe it. Was she tho daughter of the nurse—the unfortunate Odie, who had been carried off by unknown robbers? This was the only question upon which his attention could pause for a. moment, unci lie soon decided to ask it. 'No, I am not that woman" replied Bertha, with a singular expression of pride and contempt. ' And my solemn promise will not, permit me to say who I am. But lean and will say that I came by the ring honestly.' Pepin smiled sadly and bitterly. ' It is certainly the same ring,' he said to himself. 'Somebody must hare funnel it after its loss. It may have been sold a dozen times since, passing through as many hands.' Then he spoke aloud. ' From whom did you receive the ring ?' he , asked. ' From a vci\v dear hand.' ' Dave you been married ?' ' Never.' Then it is the present of a lover?' Bertha could not reply beyond making a gesture suggestive of her promise. ' J)oes the man who gave it to you love you ?' ' I do not know.' ' When did you see him last ?' ' 'I his very day.' More and more astonished as he proceeded with his inquiries, the prince nsked a great many other questions, but Bertha was compelled to respond to nearly all of them : ' I can say nothing more.' To and fro paced the prince, occasionally pausing to look at the ring. He was far from being a superstitious man, considering the ago in which he lived, but it seemed to him that his happiness and that ring were inseparably connected. 'The in jsi cry which I supposed your exclusive attribute equally concerns me, il seems, , he finally said. ' There is a point of contact in our past, is there nut ?' Bertha could only clasp her hands, with a gesture full of wretchedness, and raise her tearful eyes to heaven. ' I shall never know peace again until this secret is revealed,' the prince added. ' That is a great deal to say, Prince Are you not happy ?' 'Happy?' And a sneer of bitter desolation curled his lips. ' How can Ibe happy when the world is so full of cheats and follies and weaknesses? With such a wife as you would have made me, what worlds of happiness would have been mine ! But now —now —' He turned away with a gesture that was absolutely despairing. ' You will not blame me?' faltered Bertha, whose tears flowed nil the faster as she marked the emotion of tho prince. ' Blame you, poor child ?' he responded, again taking her hand. ' How could I blaino you ? What have you done ? Are you not a victim, like myself ? All that we are certain of in this world is that all our hopes will turn to ashes in the hour of their supposed realisation.' Shaking her hand with grave tenderness, he added : ' We shall meet again, 1 hope.' ' I hope so. , ' I feel that there is some tie between us which neither of us ought to break. Forgive me if I offend you, bub 1 must declare that you have kindled a holy fire in my soul which can never be quenched. To say that I pity you would bean absurdity, for you do not need so poor and weak a sentiment as pity. To say that I admire you would be little, since tuiy ono who has seen you can say as much. I must say, therefore —and 1 say it, under the double consecration of the eyes of God and your own—that I love you. , i Once more he pressed the girl's trembling hand to his lips, and then ho hurried out from her presence more pale and moved and upset than any human being had ever before seen him. (TO UK CONTINUED.) WOE MS FOR FISHING. Last Sunday one of the pastors of the little village of Pownul was walking to church, when he saw :i man,. with his coat oft", digging in hi 3 garden. : The good man beheld with grief and astonishment,, and, " coining to the fence, began to recite in v solemn voice—' Kemcmbcr the t ; abbath clay to keep it holy. Six days thoii slialt labor, dnd ; do nil thy work ■■■' See here, , said the man in the garden looking up, ' be you talking to me ?' 'Yes my poor man, I am.' "Wai,you needn't worry, about me, then, laintgoin' to do any work ; I'm only diggin' worms to go'α-fishin' with." — Uurlington Free Press.