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daughter. It is my duty to tell tills woman to what manner of man she is giving herself.” Julian Deveaux caught him by the arm, greatly agitated, and exclaiming, “John, if you only knew how I have worshipped her all these months, how I would willingly lay down my life for her, you would know, without asking me, that I would give up a thousand Ariane’s without a. sigh of regret. Os course I shall send Ariane back to Paris at once. I shall be to my wife all that even you could de mand. I swear it, John. Only wait till you have seen her, then you can understand. We must hasten. Mr. Douglas is sinking rapidly.” Reluctantly John accompanied him to the Doug las home. As he reached the door of the dying man’s room, and looked upon the scene, he paused. Christiana was kneeling by her father, with her arms about him, as if trying to hold him upon earth. Julian went to her and raised her up in his arms, whispering: “Darling, the minister has come. Have your father bless me as his son before he leaves us. The doctor says he must go soon.” Christiana turned her face toward John Marsden, and looked full into his eyes, with an appealing, imploring look, which gave his whole being a sensa tion he had never before experienced. No woman had ever aroused in him any emotion, save that love he had for all mankind as brothers and sisters in the great human family. Therefore, he knew not how to analyze his emotions now. If he had been called upon to define them, he would have pro nounced them as pity and sympathy. Whatever name they might begiven, the desire of his whole soul was to take her in his arms and soothe, against his own, her breaking heart. It made him shudder to see Deveaux’s arms about her. There was no time for hesitation. Mr. Douglas whispered, “Hasten the minister, my children. God does not wait. He is calling. Let me give you my blessing as my last words upon earth.” “Come, John,” said Mr. Deveaux. The words were pronounced, making Julian Dev eaux and Christiana Douglas husband and wife. Their hands caught the father’s raised in blessing, but as his lips opened to utter the words, his head fell back, and with a gasp, he was dead. Mr. Douglas was buried beside his wife down in the valley at the old homestead. John remained at Julian’s urgent request, and assisted with the fun eral ceremonies. Christiana was stunned by the blow. She never moved except as her husband took her in his arms and assisted her. She turned to him and loved him because her father had loved him so. Through dark hours that followed, nothing aroused her, no peace or rest came to her heavy heart, until as the last flower had been lovingly laid by her aunt upon the mound under which her father’s body rested, the last word had been said, the funeral procession was moving away, something impelled John Marsden’s sweet, rich young voice to soar upward with the words of his favorite hymn: “Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee, E’en though it be a cross That raiseth me. “Still all my song shall be, Nearer my God to thee, Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee.” Christiana raised her head and looked upward. The sound touched her heart. She had never heard a human voice with such melody and sweetness in it to her. She was aroused to the depth of the mean ing and beauty of the words, and the strains seemed to become a part of her own heart’s cry. She felt some silent chord just awakened in her soul which now vibrated throughout her whole being. She held out her hand to John Marsden, as if to draw that inspiration and comfort nearer to her. “Please sing that over again,” she whispered. How his voice quivered and vibrated, and rose with yet greater sweetness and volume as he sang The Golden Age for April 5, 1906. lhe words of that divine song of inspiration and praise. When he had finished, she looked into his face with a wan smile of recognition. He released her hand and turned away from her with a sobbing heart. Hastening into a carriage which had driven him from the village, he urged the driver to the ut termost speed that he might catch the next train due in Monteagle. He told no one good-by, but was just stepping on the train which would leave in half a minute, when Julian Deveaux hurriedly drove up, calling: “John, John! One moment.” He rushed upon the steps of the car and caught him by the arm. “ What does this mean, John?” “It means that I shall return on this train to New York.” “Why this hasty departure? I must see you be fore you return. I have a favor to ask of you. I would trust no one but you to assist me in persuad ing Ariane Bouvier away from New York.” “That is a matter with which I refuse to have anything to do. Good-by. I pray God to bless you both.” The train rolled away. Deveaux jumped off just in time to avoid being hurled to the ground. Julian Deveaux’s plans were all changed. He de cided not to return to Now York. He would take ■Christiana elsewhere until her face resumed its brightness and beauty. Then, too, he feared Ariane Bouvier, and the scenes she might make upon bearing of this sudden marriage. He decided to take Christiana abroad for a year. Then he would return to New York to live as would be expected of Julan Deveaux and his wife. He consulted Mrs. Wayland about all his plans. She raised no objections to anything he proposed, for she knew it would be useless. This marriage hurt her more than her brother’s death. iShe was very quiet about it, knowing that it was too late for her objections to be of any avail. It was all a mystery to her. She could not understand why her brother had not confided in her regarding a matter of such importance. One of Julian Deveaux’s first acts was to write a letter to Ariane Bouvier, telling her of his mar riage, and revealing to her in no uncertain terms that all connection between them must be forever severed, that she must at once leave his apartments and that it would even be better for her to leave New York. He also stated that he had instructed his lawyer to settle all his business matters with her, and that she must not again write or try to com municate with him in any way, for she would gain nothing by it, as he was to leave America imme diately for Europe, to remain an indefinite time. It was a heartless letter, worthy of a man of his type. Its reception made her frantic; then followed all the grief and chagrin of which she was capa ble. She at once set her whole mind upon revenge. He settled a comfortable living upon her, on the condition that she leave New York. She scorned the money he had left to bind up the wounds of a cast off affection. She felt that nothing could repay her, and revenge became her one motive in life. CHAPTER XI. “There comes Forever something between us and what We deem our happiness.” —Byron. “Paris! Paris! Paris!” As Christiana heard this shouted by a railway guard one beautiful morning in October, and as she looked out upon this gay city, she wondered if she were dreaming. Had it not been for the smiling face of an adoring husband, eager to catch an expression of returning interest in the world about her, it would have been hard to con vince her that it was real. Not one smile had been seen upon her face since the shock of those last days in Monteagle. He had been tenderly and de votedly solicitious. She appreciated this, thought her appreciation was love, and clung to him in her grief. They were driven to temporary quarters, until desirable apartments could he secured. After a few days of quiet and rest, he began showing Chris tiana the sights of Paris; but before one-tenth had been reviewed, with a deep sigh, and tremulous voice, she pleaded, “Julian, let me rest for a few days, a few weeks; I am so tired. Paris looks to me like a gay picture with no soul. Just shut me in my room and let me rest alone, while you go and enjoy it.” “No, darling, I am not happy away from you. Let us look for a house. You know we must have a home, even in Paris. We may remain here for a year, or more. It certainly will give you something to be interested in, to have a lovely home all your own. Will it not, dearest?” “0, Julian, I could not keep a house here.” “But, dearest, you shall have no care. We will have a housekeeper, and you shall have your own maid and trained servants for every department of the entire house.” One of the best houses in the Faubourg was leas ed. It was an old historic house whose salon had en tertained the beauty and chivalry of France. The amount of the rent for one year seemed quite a for tune to Christiana, and it was hard for her at first to realize that she was the wife of a millionaire. As yet the knowledge aroused in her no feeling of joy or pride. By degrees, however, she began to feel proud of and interested in her magnificent home. Julian Deveaux was well known in Paris. His own appearance would attract attention anywhere, but when he was accompanied by a most beauti ful woman, seated in a faultless equipage drawn by a magnificent pair of thoroughbreds, they created no little sensation. They were soon the recipients of many attentions. As soon as if was known that the Deveaux’s were on friendly footing with the United States ambassador to France, the doors of society were thrown open to them, and it was with many expressions of regret that Parisian society learned of Mrs. Deveaux’s mourning and seclusion. It was incredible that a man of Deveaux’s past life and character should have been content with a life of seclusion for months, and have been so devoted to his broken-hearted girl wife. For the time he showed her only the best of his whole be ing. Naturally she was proud of him, thinking him an ideal man and husband, and she gave to him the deepest gratitude and devotion. When t he gladness of spring shed its beauty over the earth, Christiana seemed to imbibe new life. By degrees her husband persuaded her to accompany him to various sights and places of amusement. She attended her first theatre. It was very wonderful to her. It was a comedy. She forgot herself, forgot her past, forgot everything save what she saw enacted. Mr. Deveaux was overjoyed to hear laughter ripple from her lips. He sat looking into her face, finding keener pleasure in watching her delight, than look ing upon the play which was old to him. He seldom even glanced at the stage. But one of the actresses drew so near to his box she attracted his attention. An oath escaped his lips. Christiana had deemed him incapable of profanity, and gave him a look of horrified surprise. He quickly assumed compos ure, while he inwardly ground his teeth, for the woman was Ariane Bouvier. She continued to act, dance and sing for his benefit alone. She was be ginning to have revenge. As they drove home from the theatre, for the first time Christiana saw her husband much disturb ed. He swore at the coachman. Everything seemed to irritate him. To her he said: “Annie, forgive my rudeness. I lost all control in my fury with that actress for causing me to be the target of such marked attention. ’’ “Do you know her, Julian?” “As an actress, yes.” (Continued next Week.) Professor R. Odden Doremus, for thirty years a noted chemist and poison expert, died in New York on March 22d. 15