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CHAPTER fV. The poet week bee been one of counsel and uncertainty. 1 am always involved at such times, but as a sower only, never as a reaper. Everybody seems to think that it is just as much my duty to pre scribe tar perplexing circumstances as for physical disorders. It is true they do not think it necessary to accept my pre scriptions unless with some such formula as “Well, that is the conclusion I had ar rived at myself.” But they would not believe their ears if I were to turn the tables upon them and consult them as to what I had better do. Mother bore down upon me the other day in her line of battle ship manner. you not to let them know it.” “It is true we know comparatively lit tle about her,” said mother after a pause. “There is really nothing except my poor brother’s letter and her own account But it would be absurd to doubt either. I should not think of such a thing.” That is to say, she does think of it, but could not draw me into either encourag ing her suspicions or opposing them. As a matter of fact 1 don't know that it makes much difference whether Sinllre be really what she porpbrts to be or not She is a fine creature, capable of being t the mother of a noble race. All the rest is rather an object of curiosity than of practical importance. But suppose it is She is indeed an impressive and redoubt ! J ° hn ' 8 , fo * nne ** ^ * ftw when she has got it to disappear? Well, that would be John’s business. If he couldn’t keep her, he wouldn’t deserve her, for she has a heart for the man who able old lady. My earliest recollections of her are as a tall and slender person, dressed generally in white, and with a cool, polishedreather sarcastic manner. She was not cool when she got angry, however. How her cheeks would redden has the stuff in him to win it But if she be an adventuress how had one daughter at least Really there is no reason for any misgiving—except that she does seem to be withholding something, and that she is so remarkably handsome taople don’t expect to find women like her among their own private relatives. But let her become Mrs. John Main waring by all means! John came into my bedroom the next morning while I was dressing. He is a man whose body and unconscious move ments speak more plainly than his tongue can, especially when he has anything to say. So as he forged about the room, stared out of the window, took up The Medical Record from the table and tossed it down again. pulled a sprig from my pot of heliotrope and crushed it between his fingers, or laid hold of an Indian club and swung it over his shoulder, I took it as said that he had been making love to Sinfire, and that she was still amusing herself by parrying his attacks. Ho doubt she found it good sport Wo men are made that way, whether they love the victim or not John wanted me to begin the conversation, but I made believe to be profoundly abstracted and kept humming in a preoccupied way to myself as I went on shaving. “Strikes me ybu’re mighty particular about your toilet for a man who doesn’t go into society,” grumbled the heir of Cedarcliffe at length. “Anybody would would say you were in love I” “It is the lovers who pay no attention to such things,” I returned. "That is what Shakespeare said, and he knew. You are the one who wears the lover's marks.” “I? Who is there for me to be in love with?” asked transparent John. “Well, that is your affair. But if I were you I think I should be in love with Cousin Sinfire for lack of something bet ter.’ “Something better!” he called out. “I’d like to know where in this world you could find anybody better than she is!” “Well,” said I, wiping my rasor and going to the washstand, “if you think her the right sort, she is the right sort— for youP . “It isn't what I think; it’s what she thinks,” he replied. “Don’t yon know?" “No." “Then why don’t you ask her?" “I don’t know that either. I can’t ask her. I try, but she prevents me.” and her eyes fiaah, and what sharp things , c f m ® J she ^connection with my late Un- would issue from her sharpest °te Edward? There is no doubt that he These outbursts used to frighten me thoroughly, and yet I often deliberately provoked them because they convinced me that my mother was a human being after all How imperic ia and impetuous she was! John is her own son. But she was less generous in imparting her brains to her firstborn—he never had half her mental resources. She used to read many abstruse and improving books in the old days, and she could talk politics or phi losophy or religion with anybody, though I doubt whether she was ever more reli gious than the proprieties of her position required. Of late years she has eschewed the higher walks of literature and has aban doned herself to novels, and even in her choice of these she has gradually subsid ed from the classic lucubrations of Wal ter Scott to such humble wayside flow ers as are to be culled from the Seaside libraries, varied occasionally with an odd volume from the Parisian publica tions of Calmann, Levy & Cie. For my part, so far fro'n blaming her, I applaud her good sense. An amusing novel is like the best kind of gossip. Gossip is proper to those whose days of youth and activity are Over, and as we see scarcely any company no other gossip than that of novels is accessible to the dowager Lady Mainwaring. Well, then, when mother approached me with the manner which I have de scribed. I knew at once that we were about to discuss domestic matters, nor was 1 much at a loss to divine what the particular matter would probably be. John and Blnfire had gone out for a ride. We were about to converse concerning Sinfire and John. Mother seated'horself in the large Japanese armchair—the one made of split cane or bamboo. She just fills it comfortably. She is very much broader than she used to be, and her once delicate complexion has acquired a sub stantial and permanent ruddiness. It sometimes seems as if mother had not so much enlarged as actually become pos sessed of a different body from that in which she spent her youth. If it were not unbecoming to speculate about the skeleton of one's parent, I should be in clined to think that her present osseous framework had been designed for a Brit ish fishwife. Except for this physical expansion, however, she remains at least as aristocratic as ever. Rembrandt, or perhaps Rubens, would have made a splendid portrait of her. Har eyebrows are set high in her fore head; the spaces immediately above and below the eye art full, showing a fluent command of words; her nose is a mod erate but unmistakable aquiline; her up per lip is thinner than the lower, which is molded on a resolute chin; her gray hair is covered with a black lace cap, the wide strings of which fall down on either aide her cheeks; *her summer &s- tume is ordinarily of some substance which I will venture to call black grena dine, with lace embellishments and some glimpses of white ruching at the throat and wrists; it makes no attempt to mold itself closely on her form, and its ambiquities are imposing as well as pru dent Poor mother must suffer greatly from the heat, but she never permits herself to complain of it She even fans herself sparingly, as if she were still de termined to be the cool and slender crea ture of 80 years ago. There is heroism in these little things, none the less be cause it gains no renown. Our conversation led to no definite re sult, Mother wanted John to marry, and she shares the general infatuation regarding our Cousin Sinfire, and yet 1 could perceive that her mind was not entirely at eaee.^Tho forces of tradition, of convention, of temperament, were working in her against her special and arbitrary affection for this strange young woman. Reason prompted her to dis trust, ofrat least to wait and prove, while instinct, or something like that, urged blind acceptance. Between the two my excellent parent was unwonted- ly perplexed. “Lord Cedarcliffe If so impetuous and so unused to restraint,” she remarked. She still calls him by the pet name he used to bear in the nursery when she is especially moved about him. The re public would be amused if they knew how many odd scrape of feudalism and monarchical tricks are to be packed up about this bouse. “Perhaps he would not be so set upon this if Sinfire seemed more willing to meet his views. It's very odd, don’t you think, that she should hesitate? Sho can’t be sincere, and yet” “It isn’t so very odd," said L “She has penetration, and she recognises John’s impetuosity as plainly as you and I do. 1 don’t dispute that she wishes to marry him, but she wishes also to be sure that he loves her outside of his im petuosity." “John is incapable of a trivial attach ment,” returned mother impressively. “If he were capable of it, Cousin Sin fire is taking the best means to make him serious,” I replied. “1 don't doubt it will come out all right in the end—on the as sumption of course that their marriage is the right thing." “Doot you think it is the right thing?* she asked quickly. “WML It ipu don’t think so. I advise-* what you must talk to her. ton can dll it, and yon can't de it too much! Blurt U right ont. Never mind the words it comes in! It will get to her just the same. And sooner or later it will go liard. but she will talk back to yon. r But John shook his head and airbed. “1 might talk love to her if 1 wasn’t in love with her,” he replied after a mo ment. “But as it is I can’t get my month open; I can only act like an ass. And that isn’t all. I feel as if there were some secret between her and me, something that she is keeping from me, I mean. 1 haven't an idea what it can be. but whatever it is I believe it's the cause why she doesn't want me to propose to her.” Naturally I was impressed by this con firmation of my own notion. Jut 1 didn't want to say anything abont that to John. I laughed and asked him whether there was an unknown rival in the case. He took it very seriously—in fact, alto gether too mock so for his health. He jumped np from the window seat in which he was sitting, and thqvein down the center of his forehead swelled, and his lips became whitish and twitched. “There shan't be any rival!’' he bnrst out “I’d kill him!" And he caught up the Indian club as if he were going to illustrate his purpose by braining me. But it was not I that was in danger. Poor John suddenly gasped and looked very strange and staggered back to the window seat I knewat once what ailed him, and this time 1 succeeded in pre venting him from actually losing con- scionsness. The draft I gave him sent the blood through his veins again with a jump, and the dull stare left bis eyes. It was not such a bad attack as the first one. After a minute or two he sat upright and looked at me curiously. "What doeeit mean, Frank?” he asked “What is the matter with me?” “Something wrong with the circula tion, that's all You smoke too much probably. You must take more care of yourself." "I felt as if I were going to die." “So do seaqick people, bot they live all the same. How long has this sort of thing been going on? Was that the first the other day?" “Yes; at least—1 don’t know. Of coarse it's nothing serious. I was born to live to a hundred I'm as hard as nails. But it's extremely unpleasant while it lasts. Tobacco, is it? Well, I can knock off a pipe or two without much trouble. But what did you mean about a rival. Frank? I’m not an unreasonable fellow, am I? But there isn’t room for a rival in this business, you know. He or 1 would have to" “My dear fellow, I know nothing abont any rival. It was yon that suggested the idea to me, and I didn't suppose you were any more in earnest than I was." "I want yon to understand that I’m in earnest right through!” said John, standing up and lowering his thick brown eyebrows and speaking in his domineering tone. I made no reply, but went on with my dressing. The breakfast bell rang as 1 reached the last button of my waistcoat. “Look here, Frank," said John, turn ing upon me at the door os we wore go ing out, “you’re my brother, and I want you to help me. There are two reasons why you can talk to her better than I can. You've got brains and a tongue in your head, and you’re not in love with her. You can find out whether she cares for me and whether there’s any other fellow in the case, yon know. It isn't that I believe there is, but 1 want to be certain that there isn’t. See?" I am not a John Alden. though Lord Cedarcliffu may be a Miles Standish, but to make him easy I said I would see about it [TO BR CONTINUED.! “There than’! be any rival!" he buret out. “Why, John,” exclaimed I, “you don’t mean to tell me you’re eerious? Is it anything more than a flirtation? Yon wouldn’t — yon wouldn’t marry her wonld yon?” "For a fellow who sets np to be clever you’re the blindest bat 1 ever came across," returned John scornfully. "Mar ryher? If I knew that marrying her n-ouUl cost me my life 84 hours later. I’d marry her this minute—if eLVd have me!” “Nonsense!” said 1. parting my hair “You don’t care for women!” "What business have you to know or say wbat I care for? You think 1 don’t ] feel because 1 don’t chatter!" John's handsome Saxou face was flushed, and his blue eyes were wide open and indig nant His innocence is really pathetic. “If yon are in earnest, of coarse that alters the case," I said gravely. “Yon couldn’t expect me to know until yon told me. Perhaps Sinfire doesn’t know either?" “Ob, yea, she knows!” replied hevwith a groan. "Well, modesty is a virtue, but you needn’t carry it so far as to imagine that if yon want her yon can’t have her for the asking.” "It isn't modesty; it’s common sense! What is there in me the should care for? I feel no better than the groom in the stable when Pm with h»r. 1 don't know how to talk, and 1 don’t know what sort of things she’s interested in.” I said, "However much of a paragon the may be. she is like other women in being supremely interested in a certain '' ' that happens to be one in are just now especially pro- And love is A Reward of S50O Will be paid for any Case of Rheumatism which cannot be cured by Dr. Drummond’s Light ning Remedy. This offer is made in good faith by the pro prietors, and there is no reason able excuse for any one to suf fer longer. Any ordinary case will be cured by one bottle In addition to the reward for diffi cult cases, the money is always refunded where the remedy fails to cure. The price of a bottle is $5, and that is the cost of a cure. Drummond Medicine Co., 48 60 Maiden Lane, New York. Agents Wanted. THE ONLY LINE RUNNINO THROUGH CARS FROM ASHEVILLE AND KNOXVILLE CINCINNATI. 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