The Breton Mills

opyrighted by the Anthor, and published by arrangement with Viim "Another step and your wife goes to jail?' "I won't touch you." And Philip folded hls arms across his breast, while the red blood forsook his face at the threat. He was in this contemptible creature's power. He might grind his teeth at him ; he must obey him. "You seem very obtuse, Mr. Breton," explained the lawyer, from a respectful distance. "I have no il] will toward Mrs. Breton, a very modest, and I may add" "As sm-e as there is a God, if you speak of her so, I wUl throw you from the window. Your secret will die with you then." The lawyer smiled unhealthily. "I want money, that is all there is to it. You are rich- Mrs. Breton- well, weil, don't be angry. In a word, I want to be paid to keep my secret" Philip cast a glance of ineffable contempt at hiru. Then he put his hands behind him and walked slowly across the room. The price of lifo, of honor, of liberty! Nomoney could measure it. But what trust could he rest in the fldelity of so base a creature as this? The vainpire would suck his blood forever, and forever cry for more; he would learn that his victim would make himself a beggar to save this woman, and would beggar him without shamo. The creature might not stop with money favors; he might require to be made a companion; to be invited to his table, anrl presen ted to his f riends ; to be godfather to his children, and at last, in anger at some unintended slight, or in somo dranken debauch, might bring or cali down the ruin dreaded so long. His lifelong ery woidd have beeu in vain. Better a dungeon- no, Bertha must not be sacriflced. Philip turned on his heel and stopped bcfore his tonnontor. "How much do you want?"' His glassy eye brightened. "Oh, I will not be too hard just because I have got the whip hand of you. Say $00, and your secret is safe." "For how longP' sneerd Philip. "Forever," answered Giddings, with virtuous decisión. ''I swear before God I will never ask another penuy of you; and your secret shal] die witli me." Phüip had teken out kis pncketbook. He foundaf.50 bilí: theii he di-ew a check for 1150. The poor lawyer eyed the money with a great tenderness; his heart softeued at sight of it, and the love of approbation, that oever dies out of even the most degraded soul, stirred in his. "I aint so bad a fellow, after all," he said, ashe took up the money; "I know lots of men who in my plee wouldn't have let you off for less than a cool thousand. " "Your circle of friends must be very select." Philip was moving toward the door. "To be sure, to be sure," but somehow the lawyer kept close to him, "I couldn't help feeling sorry for you; and then your wife is such a nice woman; it never seemed to me jails were made for such as she" "Stop your driveling," cried Philip, turning on him so suddenly that the man fancied at firet he had been struck, "keep your blood money, but don't dar to breathe her name, even in your prayers." The lawyer ohuckled to himself when the door closed behind his wealthy cliënt. "I suppose I havo considerable grit." Then he pocketed the bill and scrutinized the check. "But I was almost too easy with him. Some fellows, now, would have just bied him." CHAPTER XXVIII. THE WHITE CHAMBEH. The 5 o'clock train drew up at the Bretonville station, and the young husband alighted a ehanged man. The brick walls of his milla looked Btrangely unfamiliar to him. Was he Indeed the owner o1' them) Was that hi3 house set like a castle on the hill off to the lefti It seemed impossible that any of hia old acquaintauces should recognize him, but hero somebody was shaking hands with him. "What, -o soon uway froni your young wif e ''' "Business," muttered Philip, brealang away from liim impatiently. Hoiv the muu's simple blue eyes would start out of their socketa if he guessed what the business had been. How he would regale his eager fainily with the infamous story, and sleep more eomplacently that night for the radden calamity that had fallen on the rich man's home, whila he was safe and his home spotless. Another acquaintanee drew Pbilip's hand through his arm before he eould reach his carriage. "Something very coufidential," he whisered mysteriously. Then Philip had bribed the greedy lawyer to keep e secret whieh he had already feasted the wlioli; country on. He glanced around him with a new, hunted look in his face. He faneied he saw a peculiar expression in the eyes of the bystanders. Some of them appeared to avoid looking at him. "It is this." Philip held his breath and the man laughed at his humor. ''One wuld think you were scared to death. I was only going to say my wife and I want to cali tomorrow on your charming bride." "By all tneans," Philip answered huskily, and threw himsclf into his carriage. He had nothing to fearfrom this man at least; he clearly enough had not lican! the news. People don't t-all on - it was too terrible ! Ho let down the carriage window for fresh air. The village policeman stood by the roadside talking to a stranger. As the carriaire iassed they spoke of Breton, apparently, and laughed. The man must be a detective, armed with the authority to break into his home and carry away his wife. They would shut her in tliu doek, crowded close by murderers and foul mouthed thieves. The court house galleries would bopacked with rufflans to stare at her sweet, frighteued face, and her high bred friends would sit below and look insolent disdaiu at her, and wonder how they evor escaped coutaraination from her. "Drive faster!" he shouted to the coachman. Perhaps they had uot seizerl her yet and clasped tlieir hideous iron bracelete about her dimplod arms. If he were there they would not dare to touch hor. Would they dare burst in his gate and break down his massive oakeii doors, Btride with their soiled boots through his parlorsandtear her' from his very arnisï His father created this very to'wn, and the men whom Philip Breton had befriended would rush to his help. Who ever heard of a house so grand as his being invaded by loud voiced offlcors- of jiist ice- they cálled it, to drag a wife from her home? Let them dare to do it "Paster! Drive f aster !" The carriage rolled into his grounds and ha leaped out and looked about him. He saw np signs of disturbance yet. His gardener was cutting a bouquet of roses. Bluss his giay head, he would not be mal; ing bouquets for an outraged, plundered hou ie. "Whom are you cutting the roses for?" How heavy his ruaster's hand reuted on his shoulder. "For the mistress, if you please, sir." "Is she within, then;'' "Cau't you hear her playin', sir?" Thank God for that gentle breeze that brought the music to his ears. It was that same familiar air from "Traviata." that she had played the ni?ht he had left her for the labor meeting, before the first sliadow had crossed her life. And she was safe yet. He moimted the brown stone steps, and unlocked tue door. He closed it very softly after hlm and with noiseless step made his way to the drawing room. The door stood halfopen; he looked in at Bertha, hls one week wife. She wore no cloak or hat to show she had soon to go, and her foot that rested on the pedal was slippered; why not? She had come to stay, night, morning, noon, always. She had come to stay. But a sudden change passed over his face. That proud faced woman was a - they called it a criminal, a felón, on whose soft, white shoulderany policeman in the state might freely lay his rudo hand. She would look to him, but he could not help her; he had undertaken to protect her, but he must stand back with breaküig hoart while they dragged her away. Could they not let him imprison her at home? She should never go outside; a cell, for such as she. She would die. Was there no pity in tlieir iron laws? To-morrow her name would be heralded abroad. Perhaps her swect face, almost too fair for kisses, blazoned on the outside sheet of the lowest picture papers, and the dregs of thegreat cities would revel in its insulting beauty. Poor girl, she was thinking she had a right with him, that her home was inhisarms. perhaps dreaming of a household whose queeu she sliould be, of pretty, proud faced boys and blue eyed daughters, who should sometirnes cluster about her knees. She was living in a false world. Her ehildreu- God grant that she may never have thom- ah, the law had a bitter name for what their children would be. He was the wealthiest man in 100 miles, and he could not give his children a name. Her children; how he could love them: but each young face in turn must mantle with shame. And was there nothing he could do for this woman) Shehadgiven herself to him; all hi.s vowa were apon liim. "Bertha." She looked up and smiled on his strieken face and played on. He carne up behind her. She was his yet. He bent down and kissed hor warm wiiite neck beiieath her red gold hair. The law had not claimed her yet, and all the rites of religión had made her his wife. Ono moment he stood by her slde; the next he Ml upon his knees, and imprisoned the quick flyin hands. He feit he could not bear the music now, it was a wild waltz she was playing; he bowed his head in her lap. "Why Philip, are youso tiredr" "I am weary unto death," and his bent fonn sliook with agony and bafHed love. Bertha's eyes rested calmly on his head for a moment, theu glaneed at the music sheet on itsrack; not a spark of emotion showed ia their clear depths. The perfect shape of her mouth was not hurt by one disturbiug quiver of the rare red lips; they did not curve downward in gentle tenderness, nor part in sweet pity. There was not one shade more of color in her fair cheeks for this trembliug heart broken man whose whole soul seemed dissol ving in love and sacrifice: who would hav suffered a lifetime to save her from the un guessed fate which hovered fearfully abova her gold crowned head. It was two hours later that Philip saddled and bridlod Joe, the white horse, and set out for Mrs. Elling-sworth's. Strangely enough, as he sat at tea he had remembered the first malevolent expression in Jane Ellyigswoi-th's face as his bride and he drove past that very noon. It had chauged so quickly to smilea that he had doubted his eyes, but he trembled at his memory of it now, and the piece of paper that had fluttered to her feet, what could it be? Could it be she knew all ; that while he was buying over the lawyer so that he should not use his terrible power, thera might be nearat hand au enemy to the death, who oiüy toyed a moment with her poisoned arrow to shoot it when it would strike witb deadliest effect? Philip had parted with Bertha as painfully as if he were leaving hef to die, and as he rode off he iooked up and down the street as if dauger lurked in every shadow. Ought hu not to have told hor: But what goodi Shc might enjoy a few more days ol calm. The worst could not be worse than such torture of fear and hourly dread as he suffered. She trusted him perfectiy, and he believed he could Hght best alone. He would ward off every danger human braiu could foresee, and vvealth and streugtb and ingaïiuity oppose, aud theu, oh God, aud theni But it could do no good f o waru her. She might fluttei : her terror straight iutö the reryjaws of doSrtruction. As tor liim. he could lx; cool and firm, though liis heart was oonsuming withip him. And wbo Iniowa; the hair tiun held the sword oer her head might neyer snap, and at last, after many years- what yeare of agony they vrould be to him- she might lie down at last in au honored grave. No, he would not teil her. [f God in his merey would pannit him ho would thaiik him night and morning, and carry the burden of hourly terror, tor her sake, alone. The horse was not happy. His master had no kind word for him alter his absence, nor one stroke for his glossy ueok. He sidled sulkily to and fro across the road and made but very bIow progresa, till a sbarp blow of the hand that was raed to pat him sent him bounding in great lfeaps on his way, forgetful of everything exeept his own i-esentment. When he reached Mr. Kllingsworth's gate, Philip was sorry he had come so fast, for he bad not thouglj t yet how tu conceal his motivo in coming. But Jano received him so cordially that he quite forgot he had anythin; to conceal This eveuing Jane appoared at her very best. She made Philip teil her where ho had been with hls bride, on their short trip, and nll tlu-y had seen, and was so eharnnngly interestod that ho imacined he was sucueeding in quite winningner over in Bertha's favor. Then she hopea they would be so "Tery happy," and drooped her black lashes at last in a beautifnl stroke of daring. '■Wijl you be sure and quite f orget I ever thouj,iit C disliketl Berthai I mean to beso very i lovoted now ii you and she will let me.'" "Do you?" ho exolaiined, drawiug a deep breath of relief. "God bless you f or it ; make our house your other home." How he had misiudged this amiable girl. He would persuade Bt'rtha to be very kind to her. How very fortúnate it is, be thought, women do no hola their hates as men do. While he hac been speaking slie had tuniod her beadawaj but n.s he sai'l yood night, she looked him il the face again. Wliy. uh.-it istho matter?" he said quicldj "your li is bleeding." "Oh, it is nothing, good night." The norse was put into the stall with hi r's own band that night, and rewarde tor bis services, at last. with the kind word that ma;Ie him lay back hls ears in content Tiien Püiup went into the house and bolte the doors with a new sense of possession Bertha was within with him; the whol world besidee was shut without, for to-night at least. IIo hung up his hat and looked int( the drawing room. The gas was in full blaze the piano open and the music sheets in place a book lay on a chair as if just droppec tliere. But Bertha was not in the room. He turned out the gas and stepped along to the library. But it was dark, and uo one was there. In sudden, vague fear he boundec up the stairs. She was not in her bou doir, and he pushed open the door into the white chamber. The gas was turned down low, but he put asido the curtains of the canopy and there lay Bertha. Her lips were just parted in a sweet dream, and the delicioiis suggeetion of a smile was in her closec eyelicts tuu. All the thunders of heil mighi be eoCying around her, the dear hoad reste in perfect peace. A terrible fate tromblet over her, but she was as unconscious of it as the babe of an hour. He bent over her with a yearning tenderness in his eyes. One white arm lay on the coverlet, he kissed it as softly as if it were a holy thing. He bowed his head low over her face, that seerned in her sleep to have a new gentleness and warmth in it. He drank her sweet, child like breath. What was she dreaming of, he wondered. Ho just touched her lips, whon she moved uneasily in her sleep, and murmui-ed his name. "Bertha, you carne to me puro, with no sin on your white soul. It is I who have put it there ; I, who loved you better than myself , have put the sin lipón you. And you never knew, my love, my darling, yes, my holy one, you never knew what you did. His slight form shook with á great teai-less sob. Thcn he closed tho curtains about her bed with lingering tenderness, turned out the light and left the room. It was at the same moment that Jane ïngsworth drew a letter trom her pocket, as she sat in the parlor where Philip had left her. She had read the letter a dozen times; it was the same that had fluttered to the floor when sho had thrown kisses to the bridal pair, and this was the part that had interest ed hor so much : " You ask me why I did not marry Bertha? Who has been insalting her, then? She is my wife, so far as laws can make a wife. She leit me because she no longer loved me. I suppose I was too ill bred and common a man f or her. If she had only known it bef ore. I watclied her in terror as s!ie bogan to awake f rom her ciream of love. I tried to woo her again. I thought it might be I was not fond enough, and I became so tender I wearied her. I thonght perhaps I was not gentío enough, and then I never spoko to lier but in approval. But her beautiful face grew colder and colder every day. I saw the light of love that had made it an angel's fade hour by hour. Then I feil on my knees and prayed her to love me, but she only drew back her skirts. Then I told her I must die if she were cruel to me, and asked - begged her to love me for pity. But when the tade of love begins to ebb all the prayers and lamentations of a world cannot stay it. Her face grew cold and hard and the love died out of her voice. She never coufessed she had mistaken herself in marrying me tül the very hour she left me. Yes, sho is my wifc, and my heart aches always for her. "M rite and teil ine where she is - perhaps some time she may come back to me, for she once seemed to love me, and they say love cannot die. Curran." CHAPTER XXIX. EVIL, EYES. Philip Broton began to notice in the next few days that a new spirit of discontent had come over the faetory hands. Before the walls of the new mili had risen ten feet from its foundations, the sniiles that sed to salute him, and warm his heart, as he walked among his people and through the village that he had made smile too - had iaded frora avertal, sullen faces.' Once, the men and women could flnd no words strong enough to express theirloveand gratitude to him. Now he heard constant complaints against the long hours that he still thonght necessary and agaiiLst the smallness of their share in the profits of the mili. Philip was fast losing his only hope ant consolation. The dissatisfactiou seemed to increase every day, and it was borne in upon him that his life in all its relations was to prove a complete f ailure. The people seemec to havo forgotten how much better off the; were than others ; to have forgotten the con cessions he had given them, such as no other mili owner thougbt of for a moment. There was so much more they wauted that he hac not granted. He had opened their 'eyes to their condition more than he had satisflec their ambition. They accepted the priuciple he had explained and illustrated to them, anc carried it out in relentless logic. Philip thought they were more restless now, than in the worst days under his father's inflexible management; there were more frequent meetings and bolder tlyeats. It was at this time, when the light of hope was almost faded from his soul, and when he was fearful of dangers on every side, that Bertha said she would like to see her husband's mili. He could not teil her that he did not dare to have her seen ; that he suspected her secret had spread among tho villagers; and that he feared the people whose master he was. 'Isn't it too co'd this morning," he answered, avoidiug her eyes, whiie he casi about wildly for a pretense to keep her al home. l am not an mvalid, ' 1 mlip, she said smilingiy, "and you have kept me simt up as ií I wero a prisoner. What crime have ] eommittedr ■ He tried to laugu, but a sorry tliing he isade of it. "Well, shall we have the poupei" "Why no; you aren't joalous oL me, are you?" Xn a few moments his heach wagon was at the door. He helped lier in and taking hia seat in front with a strange, binding sensation in his throat, looked neithèr to the right hand nor the left, but drove as if he were on a race o nwt . "Why, Philip, you take my breath away. Why don't you eirjoy the moming with mei" How the iaeople gathered iu the windows to see thein go by. "I am in a hurry," ha said. "There i Jane signaling ns: aren't you going tj stop! Oh, yes, that is right. Here is a good chance to be friendly, as you wished." "May I riile, too?" saidJIrs. Ellinsworth, with eBildlike eagerness. One might have thought sometimes she had grown ten years younger with her new accomplishments. The can-iaKo di-ew un to the curbstone. and the usual greetings ere exchanged. "Isn't it delightf ui i:' said she, as she took her seat with thcm. Jaue was all smiles and bright glanoes thU monring. 'll.iw does ii, aeem to be married, Bertha?" she askcd, with charming iiinocence. Philip caught up hls whip with a look so black Jane thought he would strike her. öhe saw he kuow all; he had found it out someway; but certainly not f rom Bertha, whose face ohanged not in the smallest expression as she made a graeeful answer. While Jane Ellingsworth alf'ec'ted to bo admiring the horses, she studie! the stern set look of the face of this devoted husband, the deathly woarinass about nis mouth, tho suspense in his eyes. Then she glanced at Bertha, thé woman who now the second time had struck him; this time mortally; who had given hiiu tor the reward of his' matchless lovo and tenderness, first humiliation and loneliness, and now the hourly fear of infamj'j oartain to come in due time. Bertha was simling idly at fome children at play by the roadside ; the old indifference was on her face; the old piïde inthe untroubled depths of lier Diue eyes. wen, let üer wear it avvhilo, doabtlesa there was a shamo that coulil touch her; doubtless her oold heart would be raoked at last, unshaken as it was yet by the ruin it had vvorked iii three lives. Phili; pul led up bis horses at the eounting room door. "There ar the milis," and he pointcd his whip at the great brick buildings, that aed murmurins hoarsely to themselves in tlieir own strange language. "But I want to go into them," insisted Bertha after she had alighted. "It would not interest you," answered Philip steadily. "Would it, Mrs. Ellingsworth ;" Jane understood the loóles and words; ho feared tor her, and glanced curiously at the woman who struggled so blindly against his protective lovo. ïhe lovver part oí her face had becomo set and slightly unpleasant. "It is very dusty, anl the smell of the oil would mako you i'll, suggested Mrs. EUingswerth. They wero standing at the edge of the piazza in full view of the windows of the workroom above, and the help were collecting curiously and looking down. r'Please como into the office." Philip laid his hand iightly on Bertha's arm, but she stepped a little away from him. "No; I thank yqu," she answered, in measured tones. "I will wait here for you." A man whom no one uoticed had come up the Street from the depot, and was just crossing over toward them. "Please not wait here, my love," urged Philip, very gently. "Only see; the help from the windows above are all staring at you." "It will not harm me. May I trquble you to help me into the carriage? I think I will sit there. Thank you." Jane stood back a little watching the unraveling of the plot whose threads she held in her hands. It was very thrilling. She saw the stranger come up and lay his hand on Philip Breton's shoulder. Who could he be, with his mysterious air, his black feit nat, torn in the crown, and his shiuy broadcloth coat without cuffs? Philip had glanced up at the windows on the floor above, where a number of the operatives had gathered. Behind them stood a man, who fancied himself in the shadow; but Philip could see him ppint his finger at Bertha and nis lips move. Then the rest looked back at him and laughed, and looked at Bertha and laughed again. Tho 'ellow peered forward incautiously, and the ight feil upon the same malieious, distorted features Philip had seen reflected in the side)oard mirror the day he brought his bride ïqme. It was Thomas Bailes, one of the vitnesses to Bertha's marriage with Curran, üut Bertha sat superbly indifferent, the center of their evil eyes, tho mark of their scurilous words. Philip turued as tho stranger's ïaud feil on Ms shoulder. "May I have your ear for a moment?" aid the ill dressed man in a low tone. Philip cerned to stagger under a new blow. JaneVi ;cen eyes were very curious over this odd meeting, but Bertha noticed nothing. So three eneniies to Bertha and his own ïonor met by chance in his great inill yard, gnorant each of the very existence and of ;he motives of the others, but each workmg or the ruin of a life. Three mines were ilanted under one weak woman's feet, but either enemy knew there was another; bey were plotters, but not conspirators, and more deadly far. lf sho escaped one, she must f all by another; if one were melted by rayere, still two remained; if one were ribed with uncounted woalth, still there was ue unappeased. The womau sat the focus f three pairs of hostüe eyes, calm, beautiful, meonseious. The air might be thick with orrid hate, she never euessed that even ono snaaow naa rallen across tno suns bright beanis. But one man had plantod hiniself before her. He did not know how niany loes he must fight, he did not know their plan of battle, but if sleepless guardianship and devotion unto dcath "vvill save her he will do it. He looks up pitifully at her face averted irom hira in displeasure. Ah, if she knew, she would give him strength for tho conflict by a kind smilo at least. But she )ref erred to watch the impatient horses pawng the earth beneath their feet, and Philip irned to the man who had touched lus ïoulder. The ïnan.was staring with inolent farnüiarity at Bertha, as if he had a crtam right of property in her. "I am ready," said Philip ilercely, "come asida." The paymaster called his name as ie passed, but hè did not listen to him. He aited till the attorney, Giddings, passed ver the threshold of his office, thenho locked ie door and turned ou him like au infuried animal. "Do you daro look so at my -wife? Do you thinkhe is like the low creatures you associate with r" The man's face grow a ghastly yellow, while his eyes tried to seek out some safe coraer in the room. "My God," and Philip advanced upon the Jawyer's retreating form till he shrauk down in a chair, and winced as if he already feit the threatening blow. "I would killyouas I would a dog" - He stopped, and the mad gleam died out of his eyes. He threw himseif into a chair, and covered his face with toistrembling fingers. "But one crime in a household is enough." There was a dead silence for a moment, then the lawyer, seeing he was out of danger, plucked up courage. "Thatwas the very thingl called about." Philip took his hands from nis face, and his eyes seemed to Giddings to be burning their way deep down into his contemptible soul. Then Philip looked at the man's frayed coat, frayed at the edges, and the lawyer twitched uneasily under his scrutiny. "I thofcght I was done with you forever," he said with a bitter smile at last, "why, it was only a little time ago- let me see" "I know it, I know it, but somehowthe money went pretty f ast." And a new cunning leer came into his face. He was beginning to feel at home, though somehow, he could not look lus victün in the eye today. "But thero is a new point I have thought of since I saw you." He tried to look at him, but could not get his eyes to stay any higher than Philip's shoulder. The baptism of fire he had auffered, had given a eertain new dignity to the young man's face, that cowed his visitor. "1 mean the risk I run; do vou know what the law calis what I ana doing?" Giddm-s Lowered his voice to affect a frightem-d whisper "It is compounding of feluny. I was only thinkiug 1 ougbt to be paid for my risk." "Let me sco," said Philip in stern irony, "$2ÜU for keeping your secret - now how much for thèrisk'r "Well," and the man grimied painfully, 'you might make it up to an even $500, all ogether you know, to include everything.1' jicldings managed to raise his eyes, for au instant, to Philip's i ace. "And do vou think thero won't be any more pointsi 'You know I can't submit to be bledatthisrate." "Oh, no, I assure you, not another cent. 1 ïad to pay debts with the first, j-ou know, ind buy clothes." Philip was astonished at n'mself, but he really had heart to smile as ie as looked the man over, "Yes, yo'u must have laid out the grenier part of it on elothes." Ctiddings pulled his chaii' up to the table. "I will sign anything you say." PhiliD had risen , and was erossfng to the paymaster's office. "Watt," insisted the lawyer, "I will write an Rgreement in a minute. " "Your agreenient, eh? No, I won't trouble you." He stepped into the paymaster's room. "Have you $300 in the safe, Mr. Smith? Coupon bonds will do. Thank you." "Will you step in here as soon as possible?" said the paymaster, as he handed him the bonds. "Tkere is a very important mat" "Yes, certainly. Please send up stairs for Bailes, I want to see him." At the foot of the stairs Bailes and Giddins passed each other. "Good morning. Bailes," began Philip, without turning nis face to his discharged servant, "I suppose I was a littlo harsh in sending you away as I did. "He spoke hurriedly, as if it were a painful task he were performing. "Let this make it up to you," and the mili owner threw a roll of biUs on the table much as a man would throw a bone to a dog, though he would have been hearty if he eould have f orced his tongue to do the false service. The man took up the money with the air of the trained waiter taking up his fee. He asked no questions, he uttered no thanks. He understood. Philip was filled with shame, and the fellow's silence made it very hard for him. "If you are faithful to me," Philip looked fixedly at the wall over the rascal's nead, "I may be able to do something handsome for you." As Philip went out he glanced on neither side, but unhitched his horses and drove off as if a pack of wolves were behind him. He never dreamed of cause of fear from the pretty, black eyed woman who sat on the seat with him, who was amiable enough to keep up tho conversation all the way home in spite of the ungraciousness of the others. After Mrs. Ellingsworth had alighted at her house Bertha said, in a displeased tone: "I so wanted to go through the mili." But her husband did not hear. He was thinking how rnighty his gold was. It had purchased them four weeks of immunity, four weeks of honor; their honeymoon. It surely would control this dangerous servant since it had worked so marvelously with th" lawyer. "I am so anxious to see how cloth is made," persisted Bertha, never losing sight of her object. To be sure tho servant had had personal offense with his mastei". He might uot, unnaturally, cherish malice. Gold is a sovereign balm for wounded pride ; but wouldn't it have been wiser tp have given him more since he gave him sometbing? He must attend to the matter to-morrow. Perbaps, after all, there might be some hope for his wife and for him. How glorious it was to be rich and have power to save her. He would scatter his wealth like leaves in autumn for her sake. His mili ; yes, he would even sell his dear oíd mili, and pay out its price as the price of one year after another of respite, till he and she grew so poor at last that even their enemies and tormentors would weep for them. and let his beautiful bride lio down to die in piece. "You really must take ine through the milla to-morrow." Philip had alighted and held up his hands to help IBertha to the ground. She held back a moment with a new pretty coquettishness. "Will you?" she said. He had not even heard her beforo. He smiled with his fine rare tenderness as he answered very gently, "Anything you like, Bertha." Then he caught her into his arms. tfO BE CONTINTTED.l