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The Woman Thou Gavest Me S- S By Hall Caine The Story That the Whole Country Is Talking About, and by Far the Greatest From the Virile Pen of This Unrivaled Author, Strik ingly Illustrated by P'rank Craig. Now Running in Hearst’s Magazine—Read the Synopsis and Installment and Continue It in Hearst’s M gazine for September, Just Out As soon as Sister Mildred and Father Dan reached my room I locked the door and said, "Now, out with it. Toil me everything about Mary. When, where, and by whom was she seen last?” I was too impatient to listen to Fathei Dan, so Sister Mildred answered. “She was last seen a week ago, and again to-night on the streets—by a fallen woman. She does not know that you are alive: perhaps her child is dead, and she is throwing herself away, thinking there is nothing else to live for.” “What?” I cried. "You beiieve that? Never! Not Mary O’Neill! She would beg her bread, or die in the streets first!” I began to paint my pale face red. tor —for baby's sake! was going out into the streets C«>p>right, by Hearat's MagM/.hii Copyright Driven From the Home of the Holy. UK sun was shining in th«* street. It was one of those clear, clean frost\ morn ings when the very air of Lon don, even in the worst places, seems lo he washed by the sun light of the sin and driuk of the night before. 1 was on my way to that church among the hack alleys ol Mayfair to which 1 had gone so frequently during the early day s of my marriage when I was struggling against the mortal sin (as 1 thought it was) of loving Martin. Just as 1 lea. 1 »«d the church and ■was ascending the steps, a gorgeous landau with high-stepping horses and powdered footman drew up at the bottom of them. The carriage, which bore a coronet as coat-of-arms on the door, con tained a lady In long furs, a rosy- 1'aced baby girl with a large dull in her arm 1 , and a nurse The Mother. I could see that, like myself, the lady (a young mother) had come to confess, for as she rose from her seat she told the child to sit quiet and be good, as she would not keep her long. "Turn out soon, mummy, and dolly will lub vou eber and eber,” said the child. The lady stopped and kissed the little one. and then, with a proud and happy look, stepped out of the iiurlage and passed Into the church, while the doorkeeper opened the ves tibule door for her and bowed deeply I stood at the top of the steps for a moment looking back at the car riage, the horses, the footman, the nurse, and. above all, the bub> girl with her doll, and then followed the lady into the church. Apparently mass was Just over. Lit- ;Ie spirelets of smoke were rising | from the candles on the altar which the sacristan was putting out, a few communicants were still on their knees, and others with light yet echo ing footsteps were making for the door. The lnd> in furs had already taken her place at one of the confessional boxes, and as there seemed to be no other thut was occupied by u priest. 1 knelt on a chair in the naive and tried to fix my mind on the prayers (once .so familiar) for the examina tion of conscience before confession: "Oh, Lord JeBus Christ, dispell the darkness of my heart, that I m«y be wail my sins and rightly confess them.” Hut the laboring of my spirit was like the flight of a bat in the day light. Though 1 tried hard to keep my mind from wandering, l could not do so. Again and again It went hack to the lady In furs with the coroneted carriage and the high-stepping horses. She was about my own age, and she began to rise before my tightly closed <*\ es as a vision of what 1 might have been myself if 1 had not given up everything for love—wealth, j rank, title, luxury. | God is my witness that down to | that moment 1 had never once thought I had made any sacrifice, hut now. as by a flash of cruel lightning, 1 saw myself as I was—a peeress who had NATIONAL CONSERVATION EXPOSITION Sept, 1st to Nov. 1st Knoxville, Tenn. Only 5 l /2 Hours’ Ride VERY LOW RATES NO CHANGE OF CARS City Ticket Office, 4 Peachtree Street Union Passenger Station. run away from her natural condition and was living in the I unis, working like any workgirl. Hurtful Thoughts. Kven this did not hurt me much, but when I thought ol the rosy-faced child in the carriage, so thin and pale, and with her little bib stainec by her curdled milk, a feeling 1 had never had before pierced to my very aoul. I asked myself if this was w hat God looked down upon and permitted— that because 1 had obeyed wnat I still believed to be the purest impulse of my nature, love, my child must be made to suffer Then something hard began to form in my heart. I told myself that what I had been taught to believe about God was falsehood and decep tion. All this time i was trying to hush down my mind by saying my prayer, which called on the gracious Virgin Mary to Intercede for ine with my Redeemer, and the holy Saints of God to assist me. • Assist me by thy grace, that I may be able to declare my sins to the | priest, thy vicar." It was no use. Every moment mv heart was hardening, and what 1 had intended i<. con fee about my vi icked thoughts of tJit night before was vanishing away At last I rose to my feet, and, lifting my head, looked boldly up at the altar The Voice Supernatural. J UST tit that rtmment th» young peeress, having finished her con fession. went off with a light step and cheerful face Her kneeling place at the confessional box was now vacant, yet 1 did not attempt to take It, and some minutes passed in which 1 stood biting my lips to pre vent a cry. Then the priest parted his curtains and beckoned to me, and l moved stubbornly by the perforated brass grating. "Father,” I said, as firmly as 1 could, for my throat was fluttering. "I came here to make my confession* but something has come over me since 1 entered this church, and now I can not make it." "What has come over you, ’my child?” asked the priest. "I feel that what Is said about God In a place like this, that He is a kind and beneficent Father, who is Just and merciful and pities the suf ferings of His children, Is untrue. It Is all wrong and false. God does not care.” The priest did not answer me im- | mediately, but after a moment of si lence he said, in a quivering voice: FULL SYNOPSIS. I lariiel O’Neil, a powerful, self- made man, forces his on y daughter, Mary, into a loveless marriage with the impecunious and profligate Lord Raa, so that his ambition to have his descendants the rightful heirs of the one earldom in Elian may be realized. Mary, a convent-raised young woman, shocked to find her husband a man of sordid, sensual passions, refuses utterly to nave anything to do with him until such time as he can prove himsed worthy of her love. During the honeymoon abroad Alma bier, a divorcee who had been expelled from the convent Mary attended in Rome, attaches her self to the party, and makes the "honeymoon trip” a long series of slights and Insu ts for l^ady Raa. \i last Lady Raa becomes certain of the infidelity of her husband and of Ids misconduct with Alma bier. On her return t* • London Mary en counters her old playfellow, Martin Oonrad. who has returned from his triumphant expedition to the. Ant arctic Drawn Into ever closer re lations with the only man for whose friendship she had ever cared. Mary finally awakes to the fact that she is hopelessly in love with Martin. Terrified by this knowledge, and finding herself more and more in uve with Martin, she determines to run awa.\ from the cause of her dis tress. and go home. Mary’s *.orne-coming to Castle Raa is a sad affair. tier husband fills the tumble-down old mansion with fast friends from London, in- i Ifuling Alma Lier. who assumes control of the household. Ulti mately the illness of her father of fers Mary excuse tor escape from the intolerable environment. But her old home. Mary Bishop and to her father’s iawyer, on y to be told that nro state can offer her false position. She returns next day to Castle Raa to find that Martin is arriving for a farewell visit, and that by Alma Ller's deceitful scheming the whole before visiting appeals to her neither church any relief from "My child, I feel just like that my self sometimes. It is the devil tempt ing you. He Is standing by your side and whispering in your ear at this moment.” The Priest's Words. I shuddered, and the priest added. "I see how it is, my daughter. You are suffering, and those you love are i suffering, too But must you surren- I der your faith on that account? Look round at the pictures on these walls” j (the Stations of the (Toss). "Think of the Great Sufferer, the Great Mar tyr, w ho in the houi of His death, at the malicious power of the world, I cried, ‘Ell, Eli, lama sabachthani; house party hat gone off for a few da>s* cruise. During the three days alone with her lover Mary fights a grim battle with temptation, only to find on the last night that her faith in renunciation and the laws of the ) church is a fragile thing compared ( with her overwhelming love for tms j, pure-hearted man. With Martin’s £ passionate words. "You are my real ( wife; I am your real husband,” ring- ( lng in her brain, sr.e forgets every- S thing else, and with strong steps / walks across the corridor to Mar- ( tin’s bedroom. This is the action which Martin has advised as being the only course open to them wnic.. Is sure, to bring the one result they j have decided to attain—Mary’s di- j vrtree from Lord Raa. Mary determines after the depar ture of Martin Conrad, to hide her self ir. London. Si.*- is driven by fear of Lord Haa s discovery of her unfaithfulness to him; she is equally afraid of the venomous tongue, of Alma Lier. She is no sooner settled I ; r> a cheap little boarding house in , London than a great hue and cry i s raised by her father. Of all per- I sons, it is Mildred, that one truest i friend of her convent days, who fer rets her out; but for Mary's sake she | breaks a vow and refuses to g.ve her | up. Then conies the report of the l I loss of Martin’s ship in the Antarc- ( tic. The report is false, but Mary, j 1 wlio flees from Mi'dred to a still more } | obscure part of London is plunged ) I into tin' depth of black despair fro.n ) | which she is saved only by the birth \ I of lieu child. Motherhood is poignant s witii joy and sorrow, bid poverty ) compels Mary to deny herself of even < its privileges; she leaves her child with < a Mrs. Oliver and her brute of a bus- S band, while she herself works for a ? sweatshop. The Olivers impose upon < her; she is even compelled to pawn J her last treasure, a precious relic of ‘ her mother, to keep the roof over lier 1 sickly chi a Then she comes upon Sister Angela, who has become a , painted woman of the streets for the > sake of her dying husband. She spends the night w'ith the fallen woman and escapes in the morning. My God. My God, why hast Thou for saken Me?”’ I had dropped to my knees by now, my head was down, and my hands were clasped together. “You are wrong, my child, if yoj think God does not care for you be cause He allows you to suffer. Are you rich? Are you prosperous? Have you every earthly blessing? Then beware, for Satan Is watching for your soul. But are you poor? Are you going through unmerited trou ble? Have you lost someone who was dearer to you than your heart of hearts? Then take courage, for our holy and blessed Saviour has marked you for His own.” J knew nothing of that priest ex cept his whispering voice, which, coming through the grating of the confessional, produced the effect of the supernatural, but I thought then, and 1 think now. that he must have been a great as well as a good man. I perfectly recollect that when I left the church and passed into the streets it seemed as If his spirit went with me and built up in my soul a resolution that was bright with heavenly tears and sunshine. The Solution. Work! Work! Work! I should work still harder than before. No matter how mean, ill-paid and un congenial my work might be, I should work all day and all night if neces sary. And since I had failed to gel my child into an orphanage, it was clearly intended that T should keep her with me, for my own charge anl care and joy. This was the mood In which I re turned to the house of the Jew. It was Saturday morning, and though the broader thoroughfares -«f the East End were crowded and the narrower streets were full of life, the Jew’s house was silent, for it was the Jewish Sabbath. As I went hurriedly upstairs, I heard the Jew himself, who was dressing for the synagogue, singing his Sabbath hymn: Lecko daudi lik- ras kalle—"Come, O friend, let us go forth to meet the Bride, let us re ceive the Sabbath with joy!” Then came a shock. When I reached my room, I found, to my dismay, that the pile of vests which I had left on my bed on going out the day before had been removed, and just a® I was telling myself that no one else except Mrs. Abramovitch had a key to my door, I heard shuffling foot steps on the stair, and knew that her husband was coming up to me. Questions Unanswerable. A MOMENT afterward the Jew stood in ray doorwiay. He was dressed in h!s Sabbath suit, and free from the incongruous indications of his homely calling, th? patriarchal appearance which had first struck me was even more marked than before. His face was pale, his expression was severe, and if his tongue betrayed the broken Eng lish of the Polish Jew, I, In my confusion and fear, did not hear it then. My first thought was that he had come to reprove me for neglecting my work, and I was prepared to promise to make u- for my absence. Read What Dr. Parkhurst Says About This Great Story! By DR C. H. PARKHURST. H ALL CAINE’S new story. "The Woman Thou Gavest Me.” ie running a serial In Hearst’s Magazine. A novel by Hall Caine is always ail event, and is certain to create a large readership, whatever its aim, and along whatever line it is constructed. He write® easily and is, therefore, easily read. He knows how to translate into common English the inner experiences of women, and, therefore, enchains the attention of the reader ami evokes a quick re sponse. So far as can be Judged, his work In the present Instance wifi not tuiffer in that respect in comparison HID Eliminates the Em barrassing Odor of Perspiration. Cream or Liquid. 25c All J acobs’ Si ores with what he has previously given to the public. It is on one account regrettable that so much of what is recognized as reputable Action pivots on what is evil and corrupt In human life. By familiarizing the mind with what is off color it tends to reproduce after its kind and to sow the seeds of evil thought, and. therefore, of evil life, in the heart of the reader. Whether such is the result will de pend upon the complexion thrown over the story by its author. That which is good can be so presented as to iisue in bad effects; and that whicth is nad can be so presented as to issue in good effects. The influence* of s eh scenes and events as are narrated in a work like this of Hall Caine will depend also on the ton? of thought brought to it by the reader. We find what we look for. The same narrative that will inflame the passions of one read ei will create in another disgust for the very evil over which a mind of coarsest fiber will exult. As in a glass, we find ourselves in the volume inti* which we gaze. Funeral Designs ami Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Ulanla Floral rrxnpanv 455 EAST FAIR STREET/ It will be well if all who read "The Woman Thou Gavest Me” will ob serve in the experience of the un married mother the undertone of re morse which sounds beneath her af fectation of self-satisfaction and In nocence. The danger in all such cases is that the reader, if possessed of impulses not altogether unsullied, will seize upon the girl’s expressions of self-approval, to the neglect of her stealthy confessions of self-con tempt. While Mary is allowed to re joice in a sense of God s blessing upon her irregular life, the author is* suf ficiently true to the requirements of moral nature to darken her rejoicing with an indelible shadow of remorse. This is as it should be. No novel is safe that gets away from what is fundamental in the soul. While doubting very much whether Caine’s story is literally true to fact we may well believe that it is true to reality', and therein lie® the prin cipal part of its actual value, espe cially to such readers as are so cir cumstanced and so charactered as never to come into close range with the underworld of degradation and suffering poverty. So that while the narrative is a product of literar> imagination it is nevertheless prac tically true to life, and answers th? purpose of a revelation to those whose entire knowledge of the world is lim ited to its sunnier and sweeter por tions. We ought all of us know life on all its sides. We are incapable of rendering to the world the service it Is obligatory upon us to render, if our familiarity with it is confined within the narrow area within which a happy destiny or a kindly provi dence may chance to have piaced us. We can read such a storv as this and win from it only a passing emotional entertainment, or we can use It as means by which our eyes are opened to the sorrows, temptations and sins of the world, and so And in it an im pulse to extend our interests, and stretch our existence into regions of life and experience less lovely and congenial than our own. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX Read What She Savs About "The Woman Thou Gavest Me” in the Last Two Columns oi To-dn’s Editorial Page. "You have been out all night,” he said. "Can you tell me where you have been?” But at a second glance I saw that something had happened, something had become known, and that he was there to condemn and to denounce me. "You have been out all night,’’ he said. "Can you tell me where you have been to?" I knew I could not, and though it flashed upon me to say that I had slept at the house of a friend, I saw’ that, if he asked who my friend was, and what, I should be speechless. The Jew waited for my reply, and then said, "You have given us a name —can you say it Is your true and rigni one?” Again I made no answer, and after another moment the Jew said, "Can you deny that you have a child whom you have hidden from our knowl edge?" 1 felt myself gasping, but still I did not speaK. (Continued in Hearst’s Magazin* for September.) Women Are Constantly Being Restored to Health by Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. “Worth mountains of gold,” says one woman. Another says, “I would not give Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound for all the other medicines for women in the world.” Still another writes, “ I should like to have the merits of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound thrown on the sky with a searchlight so that all suffering women could read and be convinced that there is a remedy for their ills.” We could fill a newspaper ten times the size of this with such quo tations taken from the letters we have received from grateful women whose health has been restored and suffering banished by Lydia E, Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. Why has Lydia E- Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound accomplished such a universal success ? Why has it lived and thrived and kept on doing its glorious work among the sick women of the world for more than 30 years ? Simply and surely because of its sterling worth. The • reason no other medicine has ever approached its success is plainly and sim ply because there is no other medicine so good for women’s ills. Here are two letters that just came to the writer’s desk—only two of thousands, but both tell a comforting story to every suffering wo man who will read them—and be guided by them. FROM MRS. I>. H. BROWN. Ioia, Kansas.—’‘During theChange of Life I was sick for two years. Be fore I took your medicine I could not bear the weight of my clothes and was bloated very badly. I doc tored with three doctors but they did me no good. They said nature must have its way. My sister ad vised me to take Lydia E. Pinkham’s VegetableCompoundand I purchased a bottle. Before it was gone the bloating left me and I was not so sore. I continued taking it until I had taken 12 bottles. Now I am stronger than I have been for years and can do all my work, even the washing. Y’our medicine is worth its weight in gold. I cannot praise it enough. If more women would take your medicine there would be more healthy women. You may use this letter for the good of others.”— Mrs. D. H. Brown, 809 North Walnut Street. Iola, Kan. ■Write to T,YT)TA F.PINKHAM MEDICINE 00. (CONFIDENTIAL) LYNX, MASS., for advice. Your letter will l»e opened, read and answered by a w oman and held in st rict confidence. MRS. WILLIAMS SAYS: Elkhart, Ind.—“ I suffered for 14 years from organic inflammation, fe male weakness, pain and irregulari ties. The pains in my sides were increased by walking or standing on my feet and 1 had such awful bearing down feelings, was depressed in spirits and became thin and pale with dull, heavy eyes. I had sir doctors from whom I received only temporary relief. I decided to give Lydia E. Pinkham’s VegetableCom pound a fair trial and also the Sani- tive Wash. I have now used the remedies for four months and cannot express my thanks for what they have done forme.—Mrs. Sadie Wil- i.i ams,455 James Street, Elkhart, Indiana.