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I- ‘ fW v 4 fM ! CHAPTER XXI—Continued. -12- own reputation,” she mur- inn rod, "is absolutely of no conse quence, hut remember 'that you live here, nnd—’’ y "Don’t be silly I” ho 'Interrupted. “Whnr'does that matter? And besides, according to you and all the rest of you here, these things don’t affect a man’s reputation—they are expected of him. See, I have rung the hell for breakfast. Now I am going to tele phone down for a messenger hoy to go for your clothes They . breakfasted ; together, n lltt later, and she made him smoke./lie stood before the window, lnoklngYlbwn upon the river, wltl) his pipe In his mouth and an unfamiliar look upon his face. - “I)o you suppose^that Louise knows anything?” he linked at length. “1 should t+iink- not,” she replied. "It Is for vYu t.o tell Her.- I rang up the prlpCe’s house while you were In the jMuhroom. They say that he has a broken*rib and some had cuts, sus- alned In a motor accident last night, hut that he Is in no danger. There was nothing about the affair In the newspapers, and the prince’s servants hnve evidently been Instructed to give this account to Inquirers." • A gleum of Interest shone In John’s face. “By the hye," he remarked, "the prince Is a Frenchman. He will very likely expect me to fight with hl(0."*. “No hope of that, my. belligerent friend,” Sophy declared, with an ut- tempi at a smile. “The prince knows that he is In England. iHe would riot be guilty of such an anachronism. Jle- aldes, he Is a person of wonderfully well-balanced mind. When he Is* him self again, he will realize that what happened to him Is exactly what he asked for?* John took up his hat and gloves, -He glanced at the Tlock—It was a lit tle past eleven. ' f ~ / "I am ready,” he announced. "Let me drive you home first.” His motor was waiting at the door, and he left Sophy at her rooms, Be- fore she got out, she held his arm for a moment. "John." she said, "remember that Louise Is very high-strung and very sensitive. lie careful !’* “ “There Is only one. thing to do 01 to say.” he answered. "There is only one way lit which I can do It.V He drove the car down Piccadilly^ like a man in n dream, steering as carefully as usual through the traffic, and glancing every now and then with unseeing eyes at the streams of peo ple upon the pavements. Finally h“ came to a standstill before Louise's house and stopped the engine wlth-df liberate 1*11 re. Them he rung and "was shown into her little Ing room, which seemed to have a perfect bower of pink und white lilac. ( He sat waiting as if In a dream, unable to decide upon his words, 'un able even to sift his thoughts. The ope purpose with which he had come, the one question he designed to nsfc, was burning in .his brain. The mln : utes of her absence Seemed tragically long. Then at. last (he door opened 1 nd Louise entered. She came toward 1,1m with a little welcoming smile upon her lips. Her manner was gay, al most affectionate.... ’ - “Have you come to take me foi a ride before lunch?" she asked.._ "(hi you know, I think that I should reiilly \ like it! We might lunch at Knnphmtii on our \v*ny timn.o.". The words stuck in hlsTJtfoaf; Krjm.j where she was. slie,s.ay^no'w the writ* Ing" on his face. SkYst opped short. | "What Is. it exclaimed..-. "Ever since I knew you,!’ he sYd slowly^ffiere have been pdd moTnents whejrtT h»ye lived In t.Yture During the last- fortnight, those moment.s^kavo h ecomle hours. Last night the end. He raised , beating In Imr brain was too insistent, < voice a little ‘broken now. He^ftOjO clamorous.... Somewhere beyond -Ise.iL to become my wife, hls glass—I can aee him told me, with a smile, that It,wasittte that 1 tangle^ mass of -chlrnneys xi and anniversary of the day on Whlgh'you telegraph,poles,'somewhere on the oth- WhlcJ prqniljed to become hls—! lionise shrank hack. S* “He told you that?" John was on hls/fe^. The fever was blazing orice rrfore. “He told me/thnt, face to face?" "And you “If we/nnd been nlone,” John itn- swiTinFsImply, “I should have killed him* I drove the words down Ills roat. I threw him hack to.the place he had left, and hurt him rather badly. I’m afraid. Sophy took me home somehow 1 , nnd now I am here.” She lenned a little forward oh the -Couch. She looked Into hls face search- lnglv, anxiously ns If looking for something she could pot find. Hls lips* Were set in hard, cold lines. The likeness to Stephen had never been more apparent. "Listen !” she said. "You n're a Furl- tan. While I admjre the splendid self- restraint evolved from your creed. It Is partly temperamental, Isn’t It? T was brought up to see things differently, per side of «<he ,gray haze which hung about the myriad roofs, John and Louise were working out their destiny, speaking at last the naked truth to each other. - She started‘suddenly hack Into the loonp There was a knocking at the door, something quite different from her landlady's, summons. Sin* wrapped her- dressing-gown around her, jiufled the curtains around the little bed on which she had striven to rest, and ■moved''toward the door. She turned the handle softly. "Who Is that?” she risked. John almost pushed hls way past her. She closed the door with rferve*.* less fingers., Her eyes sought Ids face, her lips were parted. She clung to the back of the chair. . 1 "You have seen Louise?” she ex claimed breathless] v. J * "I have seen Louise,’ “It Is all oven!” he answered. You want me Wally? I am to come?”,*;' '.;\ f ; "I am sure,” he answered steadfast ly. “1 shall expect you at eight O’clock!” -, John went hack to hls rooms fighting all the tRrie against a sense * of. unreal ity, a sense almost of ■ lost identity. He bought an eveijing newspaper and read it on the way. He talked to the hall porter,-he talked tola neigh bor with'Whom fie ascended I11 the lift—he did everything except think. In .lijs rooms lid telephoto d to the restaurant for a waiter, mid with the 'menu In Ills hand, a ffewUniinutes later, he ordered dinner. Then he glanced at his watch—ltr was barely seven O’clock. lie went down tprthe barber- simp, was shaved and had bis hair cut, encouraging the barber all the while to talk to him. lie gave-his hands over to a manicure, and did his best to talk nonsense to her. Then he came \ 1 j* 4 • • • -upstairs again, changed his clothes with great care, and went into his little sitting room. It was five, minutes to—eight, and dinner had been laid at a little, round She looked a little helplessly around . T . . , _ ,,, ^ er ‘ Then she selected the onfe 'chair trtble In the center of the room. There, and I do see them differently. Tell in the tiny apartment that was likely NVMS n iiow , of pink roses-Sophy’s fn- me < o jou o\f no t to hold him, nnd led him to It. vorite flower—sent In from the flor- Love you? he repented. You "Flense sit down." she bemred. "and • . t he table was liglTted by a pink- the know 111 Could I suffer thi^ tortures tell me nbout it. You musn.’t despair shaded lamp.' John went around of the damned if I dJdnt? Could I like this all .at once. I wonder if I room, turning out the other lights, conie to vou with a man s blood unon v,,>i„ o» • - . - come to you with tp man's blood upon could help!” my hands If I didn’t? If the prince r “No-one enn help.” he told her grlm- lives. It Is simply the accident of fate. ly> . —y t f s n ll finished nnd dope with. I tell yoiDthnt If we had been alone I - j would rath er not ta lk nnv more about un should have driven the breath ou| of hls body. Love you !•” He rose slowly to her feet. She leaned with' hey elbow upon the man telpiece, and her face was hidden for a moment. "Let ine think !" she said. "I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know you, John. There isn’t anything left of the John I loved. Let me look again j _ She swung around. J "You speak- of love,” she went on. suddenly. “Do you know whnt It ls?“ Do you know that love reaches to tile heavens, and can also touch the neth ermost ( depths of hell? If 'I throw myself on your knees before you now, if 1 link my fingers around your neck. If I whisper to you that In the days that were past before you came I had done thUigs I would, fain forgot, If I told* you that from henceforth every' second, of-uiy life was yours, that/ my heart heat with yours by day and by night, that I had no Other thought, no It, ,1 dtdn’t come here to talk about It. I came to see you. So this Is where .you live!" He looked around him. and for a mo ment he almost forgot the pain which was gnawing at hls heart,. It was such n simple, plainly furnished little room, so clean, so neat, so pathetically elo quent of poverty. She drew closer to gether the curjtalns which concealed the little chlnts-covered bed, and came and sat down by hls side. ^ Sire Clasped- her hands tighter around his arm. Her eyes'sought hls anxiously. • e "Hut you mustn’t climb down. John," til the. apni t ment was hung'with shad ows save for the little spot of color In the middle. An unopened bottle of showed lit) signs of movement. Then tliejy drank together, the older, man and his servant. Still John never moved." Jennings drained lii^ glass, iJirod the decanter by his master's side, and withdrew." "So the poison's dull there, broth er?" Stephen usker]. h "And will be so long us I live,” John confessed glqOmil'y. "For till that. I’ll not drink your toasU” -"Why not?" “There was n little girl—you saw lier'when you were in London. Shi* Is -married now, but'I think of her some times; and .when I do, you-and. old "Jennings seem to me like a couple of blithering idiots cursing Hiihjgs too wonderful for veil to''understand !” .Stephen milde no protest. 1-or time lie srmdijeil in' silence. Furiously enough, as they stit together, some the grim fierceness seemed to have passed".*-om his expression and settled upon. Jolin.,- -More than once, as he looked acrc*cs_aji his younger brother., it almost seejued usj.f there was some thing of sFlf-r.epm>fffl ill lifs question ing look, t • “You dined at the ordinary in Mar ket Ketton?” StephernRhed at last. "i did.” r ' ■ "Then you hetird Ttfi? hews?” "Who could help it?" 1 Johnuiuttered. "There wasn’t much -else talked , ubout.^ ; r . .. "finlliff .Henderson hiis been over nnd that it so it was his right. Look down the roadi John! (Dn that .night I wfls. ori my’way to the A'astlis-Jtut I brtike dowii, and (ft- tlu; luornitig the world was all different, and I" went back.to London. It has. been different eyer since, and there has never beep any question of anything between the prinee'und me, because I knew that it was not love.” r ‘ John was shaking in everydiiribT His eyes were filled with fierce question ing. Slepheii sat there', arid there was wonder in his face too, ■ “When you came to me that morn ing.” she went* on* "you spbke\to me in a strange tongue. I couldn't under stand you, you seemed so far away. 1 champagne stood fn an Ice-pail, and ] here, Stephen w ent on. “There s a •t\vo specially prepared coekfnllR had | s,i ndl army of painters nnd 1 decorators Keen placed upon the little side table, j coming down to the castle next week. There were no more preparations to be Y'm sqw the uHnoiiucenient Of the made. ~ - . wedding in the mornlng^ost, maybe?" !,> Fie turned. Impatiently away from the "window Rnd glanced at the chk*k. It was almost eight.. He tried to imag ine that the hell was ringing, that So phy 'was standing there on the thresh old in her simple, hut dainty evening dress, with a little smile parting her lips. The end of It all! IlK pulled down the blind.. No more of the win dow, no more looking out at theJiglits, uo more living in the clouds! It was • . time, indeed., that he lived as .other she Insisted. “You are s<f much nicer men y He lifti , d one of the glasses to w here you are, so much too good for th^ lii* lips. on d ’ dr nint*d Its contents. .'illy, ugly things. You must fight this Thcn the be ,j ran? jp, moV ed for- b so : other dream, than to stay by your side, to see you]happy, to give all there, was of iny*elf ifnto your keeping, to keep, it holy nnd yaiercd for v you—John, what thent” Never a Ittie in hls face softened. He looked at'her a moment'ns lie had ""7'; l,mkud lit u.,- »»an lnTlf<~a<Hlll.Jjat<L.nAt lh », v Cot r, '"'.I " h- J-a.l, .lr..f.p,-.l p.lcl. -4 j \ vant to p ,. rslm ,|„ 1 ,T ! I K An ’ th»t It 1» to ,. k Cunih,-rliu . 1 . . Ih f' ru, ,? try luirtl—vrry I, In your own way. fight It- according to j Wnur own standards. You are too good ’to come dowrt—” "Am I too good lor you. Soph’f ?” ’ She bxtked nt him. and her whole face seemed to Soften. The light In her bine eyes was- sweet and wistful. A bewildering little .smile curled her 1 i pS. . ~T „ .. . “Don’t be stupid ?” she begged. “A few n-dnutes ago I was looking out of my window nnd thinking what a poor l it Tie \norsel of humanity I am. nnd t what u useless, drifting life I have led. Home now'! What ou to do is to ward to answer Its summons with ■Ue&tipg heart. As he opened it. he re ceived a shock. A messenger boy Vtood outsjde. He took the note whii^j tl** boy handed him and tore It open under a lamp. There* were only a few lines: John, my heart is breaking, hut. I know - John assented without words. - Ste-- plien smoked vigorously flir a few’ mo- mentor Every now ackf then he glanced across to wHere John was slt : ting. Once again the uneasiness was in his ,eyes, an uneasiness which wa*s almost self-reproach. John moved a little restlessly in hls eh*lr. 1 “Let’s drop it, Stephen,” he begged. ] Is go ing to marry him, nnd tlmt’s -thf end of it. Fill your ghiss up again. Here's j luiuejahtouehed. I'll drink your toast .with you. if you’ll leave out the .little girl who uas'kind to me. I'll give it to'you myself—confusion to all worn- m > b'egnn. you do not mean what you said I know\ In tin It was only, a moment of mjulness-with gki'-Kr- you. I know you will love I>>uise*all youj- life, and will bless me all your life be^ cause I am gL ing up; the one THiing w hich could mak* my life a paradise, I shall be In the train when you read this, on my way to Bath. I have wired my young man. as you cal! him,-to mje* t me 1 ain rland for a <0 ask him marry me, if he wll!..^ TJiere was a look of atony in Jus cn: ■ I "Confusion to—” Stephen "What on earth is that?” Y They ln»th heard it at-the same tinn» —the faint beat mg of a motor engine distance. John set down ills Tln-iie was n strange look In his eyes.— , r-— "Tlier** are TiTOre cars passing along the .road’now- FfiTin in the oHl .days.” lie muttered; “hut that’s a > queer sound.‘*“It = Ei‘niinds one—good heavenp, how it reminds one!” ... ... Think for a single monvent of thnt feeling which you call love, John!” she pleaded. "Listen! I love you. It bus come to me at last, after all these she deninnd- try hard—very hard Indeed—to realize what It means to be a woman like Louise, with her. temperament, her Intense intellectual curiosity, her charm.. Nothing could make Louise diff**r**nt from what she is—a dear, sweet, woman nnd a great artist. And. John, I believe she loves you!” Hitf fane remained undisturbed even by tne flicker of an eyelid “Sophy." be said, "I have decided to go abroad. • Will you 'conn* with me?" ./ ♦ She -at quite still. Again her face wn£ moitu ntMi-ily transformed.. AH Jts pnllor and fatigue seemed to have van ished., Her head had fallen a Tittlejbhcte. She \|tis looking through the ceiljng „ into heiivtn. Tlion t!ie Jiidit. «1 i**< 1 away : 1 ^almost -it-i quickly, n.s i.r luol cjun**. ' Her Yips spook,tremulously; ( I ‘*You lvU'»w you don’t mean it John! You Wnubltw tala* me. And if you <Ji*l. you’d hate, no*' afti-ru tird—you'd want t/Rtjehd lilt -He siiahlenU' drew her to Him. ‘his |. next week. Good-by! I give you no advice “Some day I think that life will right itself with you. ' SOPHY. The letter dropped upon the table. John stood for a moment dazed. Sud denly he began to laugh. Then he re membered the messenger hoy, gave 1 htffi half a crown, and closed the door,, ✓file clime hack into the room and took hls plaoe-nF the table. He looked at the empty chair by nls side. looked tit the full glass on the sideboard. It seemed to "him that he-was past all sensations. The waiter came in si lently. • . "You can serve the dinner.” John or dered, shaking our-hTs napkin.' "Open he champagne before you go" . I’You will he; alone, sir?" the man ibquirdd. ^ . "I shall he alone,” Juhn-answered. YnCtn; 'Acid came." _ "Are. you mad- John ?” ed. •• ' - i/ ; _ ' “Ferhaps.” he renlivd.“?Jsten. Whiui ' 1 left you last night, I went to, the',, club in A'hdphi Terrace. Thet'e was a.. XcH-lv]iif-Mi critic there; eompttnng you aiuk Latrebe. On the whole--, he fa- X v » I vorcd\you,| but lie gave Latrobe* the flrst utyK^'in cerfaiti parts. JhatrcJie. ^‘tm. my-success, n treater thing .ijhan’lffe its**1f. I love jou, J«*hn! (.’arift you feel, don’t -jou know, that n<»th- ityg **lse In life ran matter?” Not »ack: id*‘nly drew iroiind her waist.- She had thvt all power of r»^istance, l'.or th firstN^nie ^ T CHAPTER XXIII, jf silem e- -save -for he snid. hihl had more experience jtv life. She h!id\.had a dcVzen lovers you,' Only on« “Am 1 Too Good for You,- Sophy?” years. It HyesHh my heait, ii greater thing than -Hi> |imt)ittoh^-a greater *es tf jin hls life of his own delib erate iifxo’r*!, he kissed lver—fqverish 1 y, id runst remg 1 i}y -• “Kopliy ” beSbM*iared, “I imv**-!i«;-eri a fool ! I Lave c<uk*‘ an awful cropper,, lut-you Tniglit lielfsine with what’s left, I am going to -Haft afresh. I am going to- get rid of Yuue o'f these idea’s - '..of niiiie which, latve luYnjltt me nothing, bvit misery and. disappoint ment.. I tlotijt w ant jo li ve-up to thbiji any longjarf I them. yl\w ntit t • ‘ ' ' “ 1 iitF am po live -up to trvem ... , - * want to -just forget' _' r * 1 ‘ *' * v ' 1 iw live as . other men ^ *!•*I• f'' r f 10 s H was a room or Fl\e hissing of the green logs that .burned orC_the open hearfh. and for * the slow movements of Jennings as fye gkumal,. vhe taWxv Straight - anti grinr in his chair.',-with, tin* newspaper Hj Ills side, Stephen Strangewey -sat' Isrnoking stolidly. Dppositi* To hirtK ah most a^ grim, equally silent, suit John. “Things were quiet at Mnrket^Ket- ton tt day. then: JoJm?!’. Stephen asked lit !a->. j “Therenothing doing.” was the i face for si moment. Then once more he raised hia glass to His lips. “It’s passed out of heuring,” Stephen said. “It’s someone on the way to the castle, maybe.” Still their glasses remained suspend ed in midair. The little garden gate had opened and ddsed with a click; there were footsteps upon the flinty walk. - “It's someone coming here!” John cried hdipselj. • “Why cthi’t they keep away? It’s two years ago this week slrice I brought her up the drive, and fy°n met us at\he front door. Two 1 years ago. Stephen! Who can it be?” L Tln-y hcarY the front (fjoor open. they RFaPd Jennings’ voice raisyfF/Ijf, | unusi|u| mill- indignant protest.' Then Thpir dwn door was spddenly flung wide, npd :i luirade■happened.' John’s glass slipped from his fingers, and tin* wine streo-med <011-across the carpet, die shrank hack/gripping lit the table-; cloth. ' Stepheb turned his head, and sap tis if turned to stig e, • pace of ri quarter of our or sp. was tlvYsole atfeiiipt at v*m to thii. ^briversatfoif 1 hetjie.en* tin* two hroth- ers. Tlnui d.ehtiings tippeared with a ind which lie revtwtntly '•flllJil. Np'n livqrr-jusfi the ..,sitiqdV>,- ord-imrr.v life. Sin* wiin eJ. T>n* glad freshness.;' i Not a liin* in his face, softened.-- His Home with me! . I'll tuky seemed suddenly Yv^nle frqm her t^>ctli had .come together. Jle wus tlk^Wplaces vye ve talked nljDut together. 1 '‘ rS; 1 hen>iennipgs nj*i«*ui^ w«u « Yl.ive vou-Kver known- the truthYFwtm face.’ Her eyes. hecnffleWphied a; iffli i_i UDOEL tliiyrack. -am always hltppy nnd conti-nti,! with j ‘K’cnnter of^wjne. and two ; glasses^ ' , • > - ' j' “Well?” - -‘i ”lj is" true? It is true, then?,' lie you. Let's try it j' - ■ which In* revhct-ntly sflllW. iStenheri - ..... • . T „ ... “I found Draillot. I corucnM- liim, il^tnaruUd. g' .Her tv'cnw~s|oleuTroumI - I asked .him. for tin* ttju'th ahoutvyou. SHeh)°k«*d at llim without any reply. "John," she whispered, hiding her He put nn* off with tin evasion. N, The s»Yvifid%Yeenu:(ljdrawnvout to an Nf nee for a .moment. "Wlmt cim J say? came down here anil ,li.»oketT iiYyiuir^Njitermihuble'; ptrlofl. lie heard tin* What could any po^r. weak little enea- ture like me say? You know.J am fonjl of you—I haven't hail tin* pride, evert, to cotb'eal It!” . : :.YY" • , Y. He stood tip, held /her face fpr a window. morning. It was three o’clock in tin* I dared not conn* in. A verv Intermintible period. He heard tin* roHjng of iheHnolorliuses in the street. Once\riToro ilic perfume, of the lilae demon of unrest \vas Jn niv blood. -1 T^oonpo!>0 choke, him. The !..i » .. ..... .uSl-i.- i.,. ; a u\ .. . ** Y» ' • n Way Rtoppdd kt the night .club on my back. ’ Sophy^wtis there.- 1 asked her plainly- to put 1 me out of my agony. She was like ■Graillot. She feuced with me. An<l then—the prihee came!” “The prince was there?*’ she fal* tered. .* "He came up to the tabic where lcheu the hell T-- “The jjrincKspoke the-truthf’ sbeviaomeut between* hijHin'ridsjand kissed said. "I think yrtn "bad better go!” Yteipfon>head. * - -■.:; . * • Y “TIiml, thtti'k all settled,” he de.- GHAPTER XXIL claml. going back to my rooms •' ' — > *' now. I wnnFTou to come- nndi dine Before the wide flung wiiwlow of her with me there tonight, at eight attic Bedchamber, Sophy* Gerard was o’clock," * -F.X \ back and Sophy and I were .sitting. I think I 1 cronch/ng with, her ftice jurhc/J xiVst- w,a* half mad. , I pe»ured trim a glass of ward. She had abandoned all effort ju lne. I nfold him that’ you had prom- to Bleep. was Her eyes sought hls, pleaded wjth them,|gearched thenw ~ - ■ ' / •» "You are sure, JohnT” she asked, her * ^ ... . v; held hls tty* toThejlight and loqFvd .at v, It critiCiilly. Jofin’Y-fCnttiitn;Y bv his ^ide! unnoticed. "A glass for yourself, rifling Stephen ordered. "I tli-ank- ye ^tridly, ^lr.' man replied. Y Ife fetchyd^ n glass from board, fllle»L it, 5 and held it respectfully before-him. < . ' "It's the old-toast,!! Stephen said glumly. “You krifrivYt 1” "Aye. Master Stephen!” the servant assented. “We've drunk It together -and beyqixl ^hat; notfjing c^turit-s for many a long year. I. give it ye now wlftr all my* heart—confusion to all.women!” * : > *-y. They both glanced at Juhn, who -“I've Come for YouF' I wanted to tell you the whole truth, hut I didn’t. Perhaps I wasn’t sure— perhaps it seemed to me that it was "We both know the facts. She js go- f° r to f ,r rgvt. If ever I had cared, for the ways of our lives seemed so far apart. You went away, and I drifted on; but ir^vasn’t true that I ever promised to murry*the prince. No one jlmd any right to .put that para* grajrfi in the newspaper!" "Hut what are you doing here, theu?” John asked hoirrsoly. "Aren't you on your way to the castle?" Shi- came a little ^eurer.; her arm* went around his-neck. . " "Yoii*-dear stupid!" she cried. "Haven't 1 told you? pje tried to do without you. and I can't. I’ve coiqe for you. Come outside, please! 11’A quite iigh^■ ww»oli s coining over the hills. I want to walk up the orchard. 1 want to hear just what I’ve come to hear!” He'vpassed out of the room in a dream, under the blossom-laden houghs of the orchard, and up rtie ,hillside toward the church. The dream passed, hut Louise remained; flesh and blood. Her lips were warm nnd her arras held him almost feverishly. ^ “In that little church, John, nnd quickly—so quickly, please!" she whis pered. • ••***• ■ Jennings hastened In to where Stev pheutwas sitting alone. "Mr. Stephen." -he cried, “what’s coming to 11s? There’s tlmt French hussy outside, and a motorcar in the drive, and the clmnffcnr’s^ asking where he’sLtq...gigcn The woman wants to know \vhj*tli(*r she t*nn have the same hedrdoin for her mistress as las|t time!” "Then why xloh’L you go and -see about it. you - old fmAT’ Stephen re- jtlled. “Pick-iip those ph^a-s of glhss Jliereylay the eloth. amLget some sup per ready.” '* * Through the open dqorway they heard Aliru'^f voico in the hall. "Meesti-r Jennings, w,til-.you pleiis** -•coble ami- help trie wTtU the luggage?" Y “Get along willi you!" .Stephen or dered.' "You'd better hurry up with,- the supper, tod. The boy Tom can see to the luggage.” . .] j The old man recovered himself slouly. ‘ "You're taking Jem in, pir—ttiki^Y' ’em into the .hT>use?’"he gas{ied. “Wnat about that triqst?” Sjephen refilled two glasses, \ •"We’d better alter it a little,” l hY declared. ."Here’s confusion to most women, hut luck to John nnd bits wife!”. "Mr. John -and- bis wife'!" .fe'nning c repeated, as he set hls glass- down empty. “I'll jrnst see that them sheets Is aired upstairs, sir, or .that hussy will be makipg eyes .at Tom 4” - . He departed, 'and Stephen was left alone. He sat and lisijTW To The sound of lugcngi’being-taken upstair^, to Mine’s little torrent df directiqns, gooddiumored but profile, to fhe sotlna of preparations in the •kitchen. In the room the tall clock tacked soK eriinly; a fragment of the fog every J now and tiled fell upon the hearth. . Presently he rose to hls feet. He heard The click of the garden gate, • o, have Idoken m. I have* no Will "John," she. faltered, “it isn't the ear this Unity—it/ Ik I who down. 1 I eannot go on pride. 1» ft. I have cmnie to you. ymrtielp hie?” He found, himself upon hls.feeh Ste- piir-n, toil,- had arisen. She .stood he- t>veeu the two nien. and glanced from one to the other. Then she looked more closely Into John's face, peering forward- with a tittle start of pain, and her eyes were filled with tears. - “John,” >bef cried, ."forgive me ! You wereruYrTTwrFhprijiirig, a?id you seeiiicO toi^dei^rimJbSuHit'He. Don't voriY/rt-ally ^understand, even now? 1!. I N X - “The t ruth!” life echoed hoarsely. '/ITon’t we all know that? Don’t_we_all know that lie i^,to. give you your rights, thnt you a re. com ing—” - r “Strip!” she- ordered hlmj ]F* obeyed,“arid for a moment there was Yitence—a tense, sirnlned*. silence, ahei continued at lasL “I rights to receive from” the pHnco-or Seyre, lie owes me nothing. Ljsteu ! Always we huve seen life dif ferently. you arid f. -To me. thert^ la only one great thifig, nnd that is love; I ^tried to low*, the prince before jou the* sound of John anil Louise return- Icame. and i t’honghH did, and I prom-.,; ,lng<^ He rose and stood ready to wel- ised him ut lust, because I believed \ cdtne Aem. • “ ^ that he loved me and that I lov t d him * ; : THE END. ! / • L +»T- n*.~