CHAPTER XXlII.-rroNTtNntP.) "You will oblige me by leaving the (house," he said, "If you cannot speak civilly. I have made this lady my wife. She belongs now to me and my coun try, and she accompanies me to Paris tonight." "No, not tonight," said Marjorie quickly. "You will not take me away tonight, Eeon!" "And why not tonight. Marjorie?” "Because I have promised Mr. Suth erland to go back with him to Annan dale to see my to see dear Miss Heth erlngton. She is ill, and she wunts me, monsieur.” "I regret It, but we do not get every thing we wish In this world. 1 must leave for Paris without delay!” Marjorie hesitated and looked con fused. Then Sutherland spoke, uncon sciously uttering the thoughts which had been In the girl's mind. "You ran go to Paris,” he said, "if y ii allow Marjorie to return with me,” The Frenchman gave a smile which was half a sneer. "You are consideration Itself, mon sieur,” lie said. Then, turning to Mar jorie, he added: "What does my wife say to that?" "I I don’t know," she stammered. "I am so sorry for Miss Iletbei lngton. It would be only for a few days, per haps, and—I could follow you." Causeldlere smiled again, this time less agreeably. "You seem to be tender-hearted, Murlririfl ” lin Willi "In mu. IiiiI myself. Truly, an admirable speech to make to your husband in the first flush of the honeymoon. 1 am too fond of you, however, to lose you quite so soon.” "Then you will not let me return?” "Most assuredly i shall not let you go; what is Miss Hetheriugton to you or to me? She is your mother, per haps, as you say; but in her case, what does that sacred word 'mother' mean? Merely this: A woman so hardened that she could abandon her helpless off spring to the mercy of strangers; and afterward, when she saw her alone and utterly friendless, had not tenderness enough to come forward and say: 'Mar jorie, you are not alone in the world; come to me—your mother!’” "Ah, Leon, do not talk so!” exclaim ed Marjorie; then, seeing Sutherland about to speak, she went toward him with outstretched hands. "Do not speak,” she whispered, "for my sake. Since my husband wishes it, I must remain. Good-by.” She held forth her hand, and he took it in both of his, and, answering her prayer, he remained silent. He had sense enough to see that in the present instance the Frenchman had the power entirely in his own hands, and that he Intended to use it. He had noted the sneers and cruel smiles which had flit ted over Caussidfere's face, and he saw that further interference of his might ■jesult in evil for the future of her he loved. So, instead of turning to the French man, he kept Marjorie's hand, and said: "You are sure, Marjorie, that you wish to remain?” "Ye*,” sobbed Marjorie, "quite sure. A one of the nar tfr row Parisian **■ streets In the near neighborhood of the Heine, close to uuays and old bookstalls. f r e • <|uented by the litterateur out at sIIhiws and the bihllomaular, there Is an obscure cuba iat or houae of enterlaiuutrut. bearing the name of Mote he d Or. Itesldes the aand*l salon, ntth its marble tablet and Its tniR" pr bird over b> a giddy d tinted o' fifty. I hers la a dining thantber up stabs, so low that a tall man standing uptight can almtat t«u n the celling nuh hit head tn l to held III by a narrow window that a light id some tort Is wen taunt a»»n hr broad day. In tkta nyper rhiwhtr, one foggy af tt i noun in tu uiun threw yaare aft *t tk. IS' urrettfW of Ike events d*«< filled in the last d ipter. a man waa aaated nh na and hustly writing at ana af tike n - «n lahlea The man wne ahont forty years nf as rppalea' with fot-ble a hair and gim>ht, but otherwt«w i»an shaven Ms nrvta »a»td»y. aimawt fnrtnnsty now anil then pausing to read, half aloud, the matter on the paper, ob viously hla own composition. Ah be did ho, he smiled, well pleased, or frowned savagely. Presently he paus ed und stamped with hla foot on the floor. In answer to bis summons, a young woman of about twenty, gaudily at tired, with a liberal display of cheap Jewelry, came up the narrow stairs. "Ah, Adele!" cried the man, “Is the boy below?” The woman answered with a curious nod. “(Jive him these papers let hirn fly with them to the printer. Htay! Is any one below?" "No one, Monsieur Fernand." "Death of my life, C'aussldlere Is late," muttered the man. "lirlng me pome absinthe and a packet of cigar ettes." The woman disappeared with the parcel of manuscript, and returned al most Immediately, bearing the things ordered. Hhc had scarcely set them down, when a. foot, was heard upon the stairs, and our old acquaintance, Caus sldiere, elegantly attired, with fault less gloves and hoots, entered the room. "Here you ore!" cried the man. "You come a little late, mon camare.de. I should have liked you to hear the ar ticle l have Just dispatched to the lion Cltoyen.” "It will keep till tomorrow, Hunt,” returned the other, dryly, "when I shall behold II In all the glory of large type," Huet, as the man was named, ripped out a round oath. "It Is a firebrand, a bombshell, by -!" he erled. "The dagger-thrust of Marat, with the epigram of Victor Hu go. I have signed it at full length, mon camarade -'Fernand Huet, Work man, Friend of the People.' " , Caussidiere laughed and sat down. "No man ean match you, my dear Huet, In the great war of—words." "Just so, and In the war of swords, too, when the time comes. Nature has given me the soul of a poet, the heart | of ti lion, the strength of Hercules, the tongue of Apollo. Behold me! When heroes are wanted, 1 shall be there." The two men talked for some time on general subjects; then Huet, after regarding hia companion with a pro longed stare, observed with a coarse laugh: “You are a swell as usual, my Caus sidiere. Parbleu, it is easily seen that you earn not your living, like a good patriot, by the sweat of your brow! Who Is the victim, mon camarade! | Who bleeds?” ”1 do not waste what I have,” re turned Caussidiere, "and I love clean linen, that Is all.” Huet snapped Ills fingers and laugh , ed. "Do you think I am a fool to swallow that canard? No, my Caussidiere. You have money, you have a little neoi,-->gg at home. You have a wife, brave boy; she is English, and she is rich.” “On the contrary, she Is very poor,” answered Caus3idiere. “She lias not a sou.” “Diable! ” “Nevertheless. I will not disguise from you that she has wealthy connec tions, who sometimes assist us in our struggle for subsistence. But it is not much that comes to me from that quar ter, I assure you. Mj correspondence and my translations are our chief re- j liance.” "Then they pay you like a prince, I mim lauiuruue: crieu uuei. Hut there, that Is your affair, not mine. You are with us, at any rate, heart and soul?" "Assuredly.” Sinking thalr voiees. they continued ro converse for some time. At last Caussidlere lose to bo. After a rough handshake from 11 net. ami a gruffly murmured "A bientot," he made Ills way down the narrow stairs, and found himself in the sanded entresol of the cabaret. Several men In blouses sat at the ta ble drinking, waited upon by Adele. As Caussidlere crossed the room the girl followed him to the door and touched him on the shoulder. “How Is mndaiue?” she asked, In a low voice. “I trust much better." Caussidlere gaged st the questioner with no very amiable expression. "IV> you say Madame Caussidlere? How do you know that there Is such a person?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Your wife or your mistress, It Is .til the seme You hnow whom I mean, monsieur " "ithe Is better, then." “And Ihe little g.tteon*" "Unite well," answered Cstusidlere. passing nut Into the street leaving M. uch« d'Or behind him and passing along the basks of the j gains, Caussidlere tressed the rivet i and i«4*h'd the neighborhood if tl.r Calais Hotel front tints to time he ; sit hanged a nod w a greeting with ( ease passer by. generally a person j ninth must shabbily suited than him I self l inger lag among I be ar> be*. he purchased >■**• up two HautMlt from *he itinerant >sndetssnd then pawned stun Ip ott till he reached a narrow both street. before woe of the down «*f whleh > he paused aad raag « bed The ‘heap bsdng opened by a hm»« la his shirt steeee. who greeted hit* with a "beg eetp," ha passed up a dingy Bight nl wooden stairs till he gained the second floor, which consisted of three rooms en suite, a small salon, a bedchamber, and a smaller bedchamber adjoining. In the salon which was gau dily but shabbily furnished In red velvet, with mirrors on the walls, a young woman was’seated sewing, and playing near to her was a child about a year and a half old. Both mother and child were very pale and delicate, but both had the same soft features, gentle blue eyes and golden hair. The woman was Marjorie Annan— Marjorie with all the lightness and happiness gone out of her face, which had grown sad and very pale. As Caussldlere entered, she looked up eagerly and greeted him by his Chris tian name. The child paused timidly in his play. "You are late, I,con,” said Marjo rie, In French. "I have waited in all day, expecting you to return.” “I was busy and couldn’t come,” was the reply. “Any letters?” “No, I,con." Caussldlere uttered an angry excla mation, and threw himself Into an armchair. "The old woman had better take care,” he cried. "Nearly a week has now passed and she has not replied to my note- that Is, to yours. And we want money Infernally, as you know." Marjorie sighed, and her eyes filled with tears. "Why are you crying?” demanded her husband, sharply. " Because you have an unnatural mother, who would rather see you starve than share her wealth with you, or with the child?” "No, no, It Is not lhat,” answered Marjorie. "Miss Hetberington has been very good. She has given us a great deal already; but we require so much, and 1 am sure she Is not so rich as yoe suppose.” ’’She is a miser, I tell you,” returned Caussldlere. "What she has sent you is not sufficient for an ordinary semp stress' wage. .She had better take r to shame before all the world.” At this moment there was a knock at the room door, and the man who had admitted Caussldlcre entered with a letter. "A letter for madame,” he said. ?darJorle took the letter, and, while the man retired, opened It with trem bling hands. Her husband watched her gloomily, but his eye glistened as he saw her draw forth a bank order. "Well?” he said. "It is from Miss Hetherlngton- from my—mother! Oh, is Hhe not good! Look. Leon! An order upon the bank for thirty pounds.” •'Let me look at It.” said Caussidierc, rising and taking it from his wife# hand. "Thirty pounds! It is not much. Well, what does the old wom an say?” “I—l have not read the letter.” “Let me read it,” he said, taking it from her and suiting the action to the words. It was a Ionglsh communication. Caussldlcre read it slowly, and his face darkened, especially when he came to the following words: "If you are unhappy, come back, to me. Remember your home is alway.' here. Oh, Marjorie! my bairn! nev er forget that! It is a mother's heart that yearns and waits for you! Come back, Marjorie, before it is broken al together.” CauEsidinre tossed the letter on the table. “So you have been telling her that you are unhappy,” he said with a sneer. “In the future I must see all your letters, even to the postscripts. And she begs you to go back to Scot lard! Well, who knows?—It may cofe to that yet!" ITO HE COSTIXCEO. t SALADS AS A DIET. Hot* Wholesome Food »orl Should lie Milieu Every l>»y. “The beauty and wholesornettess of the salad should commend It to every American housekeeper.” writes Mrs. S. T. I orer in the Ladles’ Home Journal. ’’1 ci not refer to those highly se? sonerl combinations of hard-boiled cggi Rn l mustard, but to dainty dinner or luncheon salads made with a dressing of olive oil, a few drops of lemon juice and a light seasoning of salt, garlic and pepper. ••The salts necessary for the well be ing of our blood are bountifully given In these green vegetables. Then. too. It Is a pleasant way of taking fatty food. All machinery must be well died to prevent friction, uud the won derful human engine Is not un egeep tlop to the rule, luiok carefully to It ; that you take sufficient fatty food, •The Amerli ana do not use enough oil to keep them In |ierfect health While butter Is served In some families three times a day, and Is better than no fat. Its composition la rather against It as compared Ui a sweet vegetable oil. j Kata well Utgratrd are the salvation <>f consumptives, or those suffering from any form of tuberculosis Kor tbe«« reasons a simple salad composed of any , green vegetable and a Kreto it dreealag Should be seen on every well-regulated table **A times a y«ar Those who live out of town tan obtain from the Helds sorrel, long docks, daadvitons and lamb's quarters fur the cos' of picking VV hi re denser!* are n >t used, and I i wish for health • sake, they might be abolished, a salad with a hit vf cheese and bread or wafer or cracker, with j a small cup of coffee, may »!*•** tha meat Where a d» *» rt is u*ed the j ash 1 sheen* aad wafer ere served jthsl { before It. to pfteh up th appetite that It may enjoy m«re fu'ly th* sweet At a targe dtaaer the hU- Is usually ^ Mfuil with the game e urse ’* tWutUag dou* aa a taadeta wuyht |g tqpuM I* a doub t safely insttlh I TAL.M AGE'S SERMON. ‘HOUSEHOLD CARtlS," LAST SUNDAY’S SUBJECT. "Lord. l>n«t Thou Not runt That My Mulrf 11*4 Lrfl Mr to Krrvr AIoiir?" —Luke; tlmiitcr A.. Vcr4R -10. Yonder Is a beautiful village home stead. The man of the house is dead, and his widow is taking eharge of tile premises. This Is the widow, Martha or Bethany. Yes, I will show you also the pot of the household. This is Mary, the younger sister, with a book under her arm, and her face having no appearance of anxiety or care. Com- | party has come. Christ stands outside j the door, und, of course, there is a ■ good deal of excitement inside the ! door. The disarranged furniture Is ’ hastily put aside, and the hair Is brushed back, and the dresses arc ad justed as well ns, In so short a time, Mary and Martha can atteud to these matters. They did not keep Christ standing at the door until they were newly apparelled, or until they had elaborately arranged their tresses, then coming out with their affected sur prise as though they had not heard the two or three previous knocklugs, say ing: "Wily, is that you?” No. They were ladies, and were always presenta ble. although they may not have al ways had on their best, for none of us always has on our Inst; If we did, our best would not be worth having on. They throw open the door, and greet Christ. They say: “Good-morning, Master; come In and be seated." Christ diil not come alone; He had a group of friends with him, and such an influx of city victors would throw any coun iry homo*nto perturbation. 1 suppose also the walk from the city had been “ iiinu.i r/.'T. i lie Knciieu u' ijiiii. ment that Jay was a very Important department, and 1 suppose that Mar tha had no sooner greeted the guests than she lied to that room. Mary had no worrlment about household affairs. She had full confidence that Martha could get up the best dinner In Beth any. She seems to say: "Now let us have a division of labor, Martha, you cook, and I’ll sit down and be good.” So you have often seen a great dif ference between two sisters. There Is Martha, hard-werking, painstaking, a good manager, ever In centive of some £ew paltry, or discov ering something in the art of cookery and housekeeping. There is Mary, al so foml of conversation, literary, so engaged in deep questions of ethics she has no time to attend to the ques tions of household welfare. It is noon. Mary Is in the parlor with Christ. Martha is In the kitchen. It would have been better If they had divided the work, and then they could have divided the opportunity of listening to Jesus; but Mary monopolizes Christ, while Martha swelters at the fire. It was a very Important thing that they should have a good dinner that day. Christ was hungry, and he did not often have a luxurious entertainment. Alas me! if the duty had devolved upon Mary, what a repast that would have been! But something went wrong in the kitchen. Perhaps the fire would not burn, or the bread would not bake, or Martha scalded tier hand, or some thing was burned black that ought to have been made brown; and Martha lost her patience, and forgetting the proprieties of the occasion, with be sweated brow, and perhaps with pitcher in one hand and tongs in the other, she rushes out of the kitchen in to the presence of Christ, saying: “Lord, dost Thou not care that my sis ter hath left me to serve alone?” Christ scolded not a word. If It were redding, 1 should rather have his scolding than anybody else's blessing. iniie »aa iiuwiing accru. lie Kne w Martha had almost worked herself to death to get him something to eat, and so he throws a world of tenderness in to his intonation as he seems to say: "My dear woman, do not worry; let the dinner go; sit down on this ottoman beside Mary, your younger sister. Martha, Martha, thou art careful and tumbled about many things, hut one thing is needful." As Martha throws open that kitchen door 1 look in aud see a great many household perplexi ties and anxieties. First, there Is the trial of non-ap preciation. That Is what made Martha so mad with Mary. The younger sister had no estimate of her older sister's fatigues. As now, men bothered with the anxieties of the store, and office, and shop, or coming from the StockFx rhauge, say when they get home: "Oh. ycu ought to lie in our factory a little while; you ought to have to manage eight, or teu, or twenty subordinates, and then you would know what trouble and anxiety are!" Oh, air, the wife and the mother has tu conduct at the same time a university, a clothing es tablishment. a restaurant, a laundry, a library, while she is health officer, police, and president of her realm' tike must do a thousand thing*, and do them well, in order to keep things going smoothly, and hi her brain and her nerve* are taxed to the utosoat. I know there are housekeeper* who are ao fortunate that they ran sit in an arm-chair ta this library, or lie oa the belated ptilow, aad throw oil all the cere upon •et>->rdtnat*e who. having large wagea anu growl taper!****, eea attend to all the •lilts of the house hold Those are the exception*. I am speaking now uf th* great mita of housekeeper* the women tu whom life t* * struggle aad who, at thirty year* of eg*, took a* tho >gh they were forty, aad at furty look aa though they were hfty, * * < at utty look aa tkou«k they Were atxty. the latte* at t'haloes and a entering, anu tt*t< | tyehurg. and W a ter too are a smalt auwher compared with th* slat a ta th* - great ArmagedUaa uf the hitch**. Yen go out to the cemetery and you will see that the tombstones a'.l read beau tifully poetic; but !i those tombstones would speak the truth, thousands of them would say: ‘■Here lies a woman killed by too much mending, and sew ing. and baking, and scrubbing, and scouring; the weapon with which she was slain was a broom, or a sewing machine, or a ladle.” You think. O man of the world! that you have all the cares and anxieties. If the cares and anxieties of the household should come upon you for one week, you would be tit for the insane asylum. The half rested housekeeper arises in the morn ing. he must have thp morning repast prepared at an Irrevocable hour. What if the fire will not light; what If the marketing did not come; what if the clock has stopped—no matter, she must have the morning repast at an Irrevoc able hour. Then the children must bo got off to school. What If their gar ments are torn; what if they do not know their lessons; what If they have lost a hat or sash- they must be ready. Then you have all the diet of the day, and perhaps of several days, to plan; but what if the butcher has sent meat unmasticable, or the grocer has sent articles of food adulterated, and what If some piece of silver be gone, or some favorite chalice be cracked, or the roof leak, or the plumbing fall, or any one of a thousand tilings occur—you must tie ready, prlng weather comes, and there must lie a revolution In the fam be ready. Spring weather comes, and you must shut out the northern blast; but what if the moth has preceded you to tlie chest; what if, during the year, the children have outgrown the apparel of last year; what if the fashions have changed. Your house must ho an apothecary's shop; it must he a dis pensary; there must he medicines for all sorts of aliments something to loosen the croup, something to cool the ourn, something to poultice the inflam mation, something to silence the jump ing tooth, something to soothe the ear ache. You .must be In naif a dozen places at the same time, or you must attempt to he. If, under all this wear and tear of life, Martha makes an Im patient rush upon the library or draw ing-room, be patient, be lenlenC! Oh, woman, though I may fail to stir up an appreciation in the souls of others In regard to your household toils, let me assure you, from the kindliness with which Jesus Christ met Martha, that he appreciates all your work from gar ret to cellar; and that the Ood of De borah, and Hannah, and Abigail,* and Grandmother Hols, and Elizabeth Fry, and Hannah More is the God of the housekeeper! Jesu3 was never mar ried, that he might be the especial friend and confidant of a whole world of troubled womanhood. 1 blunder; Christ was married. The Bible says that the Church is the Iamb's wife, and that makes me know that all Christian women have a right to go to Christ and tell him of their annoy ances and troubles, siuce by bis oath of conjugal fidelity he Is sworn to sym pathize. George Herbert, the Christian poet, wrote two or three verses on this subject: "The servant by this clause Makes drudgery divine: Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws. Makes this the action fine.’’ A young woman of brilliant educa tion and prosperous circumstances was called down-stairs to help in the kitch en in the absence of the servants. The door-bell ringing, she went to open It and found a gentleman friend, wh'o said as he came in: "I thought I heard music; was it on this piano or on this harp?” She answered; "No; X was playing on a grid-iron, with frying-pan accompaniment. The servant's are gone, and I am learning how to do this work.” Well done! When will women in all circles find, out that it is honorable to do anything that ought to be done? m m m How great are the responsibilities of housekeepers! Sometimes an indiges tible article of food, by ils effect upon a king, has overthrown an empire. A distinguished statistician says of one thousand unmarried men there are thirty-eight criminals, and of cue thousand married men only cightc> n are criminals. What a suggestion of home influences! Let the most be made of them. Housekeepers by lha food they provide, by the couches they spread, by the books they introduce, by the influences they bring around their home, are deciding the physical, intol lfctuul, moral, eternal distlny of the rare. You say your life Is one of sac rifice. I know it. But. my slaters, that Is the only life worth living. That was Florence Nightingale's life, that was I’aysoa's life; that was Christ's life. We admire it in others; but how very hard It Is for us lo exercise It our selves! When in tirooklyn. young l)r. Hutchinson, having spent a what'’ night In a diphtheritic room for the re lief of a patient, became saturated with the poison and died, we all felt as If we would like to pul garlands on His grave; everybody appreciates that. When, in the burning bold at rit l.ouls. a young man on the fifth story broke open lb* door of ibe room w h re bis mother was sleeping and piung