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’THE The Woman Thou Gavest Me By Hail 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 bv Frank Craig. Now Running in Hearst’s Magazine—Read the Synopsis and Installment and Continue It in Hearst’s Magazine for September, Just Out V As soon as Sister Mildred and Father Dan reached my room I locked the door and said, '‘Now, out with it. Tell me everything about Mary. When, where, and by whom was she seen last?” I was too impatient to listen to Father 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 believe that? Never! Not Mary O’Neill! She would beg her bread, or die in the streets first!” run away from her natural condition and was living: In the slums, working like any workglrl. ; Hurtful Thoughts. I began to paint my pale face red, tor I was going out into the streets —for baby’s sake! Copyright, 1913. by IT * first’s Mngazln Driven From the Home of the | Holy. HE sun was shining in the It was one of those dear, dean frosty morn ings when the very air of Lon don, even in the worst places, seems to he washed by the sun light of the sin and drink of the night before. 1 was on m\ way to that : church among the hack alleys of Mayfair to which 1 had gone so j frequently during the early days of mv marriage when I was struggling against the mortal sin (as I thought it was) of loving Martin. Just as I readied the church nn<l I was azcandlng; the steps, a gorgeous . ng horses and tv up at the coronet landau with h powdered footman drew i bottom of them. The carriage, which bore as coat-of-anns on tin* door, con- J T f her arm*, and a nurse The Mother. I could see that, like myself, the la \ | y oung it! a I er) had coma to confess, for as she rose fr<>m her seat j ■ ■ good, as she would not keep her long. • "Turn out soon, mummy, and dolly j Mill lub you eber and eber," said th«* I child t The lady stopped and kissed the ! little one, and then, with a proud ; —Copyright in Great Britain. nd happy look, stepped out of the urrluge and passed Into the church, while the doorkeeper opened the ves tibule door for her and bowed deeply T stood at the top of the steps for n moment looking back at the car riage, the horses, the footman, the nurse, and, above all, the baby girl with her doll, and then followed the lady Into the church. Apparently mass was Just over. Lit tle spirelets of smoke were rising from the randies on the altar which the sacristan was putting' out, a few ‘■••mmunicants were still on their knees, and others with light yet echo ing foot.steps were making for the uoor. The lady In furs had already taken her place at one of the confessional boxes, and as there seemed to be no other that was occupied by a priest, I knelt on a chair In the naive and tried to tlx my mind on the prayers (once so familiar) for the examina tion of conscience before confession: “Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, dispell the darkness of my heart, that I m«y bo- wail my sms and rightly confess them.” Rut 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, I could not • in s Again and again It went back to the lady in furs with the coronated carriage and the high-stepping horses She was about my own age, and she began to rise before my tightly closed eyes as a vision of what I might have been myself If I had not given up everything for love—wealth, rank, title, luxury. God Is my witness that down to that moment 1 had never once thought I had made any sacrifice, but now, as by ■« flash of cruel lightning, 1 saw myself as 1 was a peeress who hod NATIONAL CONSERVATION EXPOSITION Sept. 1st to Wov. 1st Knoxville, Tenn. Even this did not hurt me much, hut when I thought of the rosy-faced child in the carriage, so thin and pale, and with her little bib stained by her curdled milk, a feeling I had never had before pierced to my very soul. I asked myself if this was what God looked down upon and permitted— that because 1 had obeyed what I still believed to bo the purest impulse of ftiy 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 uow n my mind by saying mv prayer, which called on the gracious Virgin Mary to intercede for me with mv 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 I had intended to confess about my wicked thoughts of the 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 at that moment the young peeress, having finished her con fession. went off with a light step and cheerful fee* Her kneeling place at the confessional box was now vacant, yet I did not attempt to take It, and some minutes passed In which I stood biting my lips to pre vent a cry. Then the priest parted his curtains and beckoned to me, and I moved stubbornly by the perforated brass grating. “Father,” 1 said, as firmly hr I could, for my throat was fluttering, “I came here to make mv confession* but something has come over me since I 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 i» Just and merciful and pities the suf ferings of His children, Is untrue. It is all wrong and false. God d oes not ca re.” The priest did not answer me im mediately, but after a moment of si lence he said. In a quivering voice: FULL SYNOPSIS. Daniel O’Neil, a powerful, self- made man, forces his only daughter, Mary, Into a loveless marriage with the impecunious and profligate Lord Kaa, 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 And her husband a man of sordid, sensual passions, refuses utterly to have anything to do with him until such time as he can prove himself worthy of her love. During the honeymoon abroad Alma Lier, a divorcee who had been expelled from tile convent Mary attended in Rome, attaches her self to tiie party, and makes the “honeymoon trip" a long series of slights and insu.ts for Lady Raa. At last Lady Rna becomes certain of the infidelity of her husband and of his misconduct with Alma Lier. On her return to London Mary en counters lier old playfellow, Martin Conrad, who has returned from his triumphant expedition to the Ant arctic Draws Into aver 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 love with Martin, she determines to run away from the cause of her dis tress, and go home. Mary’s Some-coming to Castle Raa is a sad affair. Her husband tills the tumble-down old mansion with his fast friends from London, in cluding Alma Lier, who assumes control of the household. Ulti mately the illness of her father of fers Mary excuse for escape from the intolerable environment. But her old home, Mary Bishop and to her only to be told that nro state can offer lier false position. She returns next day to Castle Raa to find that Martin is arriving for a farewell visit, and that by Alma Lier’s deceitful scheming the whole before visiting appeals to her father's lawyer, neither church any relief from house party has gone off for a few days' cruise. During the three days alone with her lover Mary fights a grim battle with temptatlbn, 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 tor this pure-hearted man. With Martin’s passionate words, “You are my real wife; I am your real husband.“ ring ing in her brain, sne forgets every 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 whicn is sure to bring the one result they have decided to attain—Mary’s di vorce from Lord Raa. Mary determines after the depar ture of Martin Conrad, to hide her self in London. She is driven by fear of Lord Raa's discovery of her unfaithfulness to him; she is equally afraid of the venomous tongue of Alma Lier. She is no sooner settled* 'n a cheap little boarding house in i ondon than a great hue and erv is raised by her father. Of all per sons, it is Mildred, that one truest friend of her convent days, who fer rets her out; but for Mary's sake she breaks a vow and refuses to give lier up. Then comes the report of the loss of Martin's ship in the Antarc tic The report is false, but Mary, who flees from Mi'dred to a still more obscure part of London, la plunged into the depth of black despair from which she is saved only by the birth of her child. Motherhood is poignant with 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 hus band. while she herself works for a sweatshop. The Olivers impose upon her; she is even compelled to pawn her last treasure, a precious relic of h< r mother, to keep the roof over her sickly chi tT 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 with the fallen woman and escapes in the morning. I “My child, I feel just like that my- ; self sometimes. It is the devil tempt ing you He is standing by your side I and whispering in your ear at this moment.” | The Priest's Words. I shuddered, and the priest added; I “1 see how it is. my daughter. You ■ are suffering, and those you love are j suffering, too But must you surren- | <ler your faith on that account? Look round at the pictures on these walls” L(the Stations of the Cross) “Think of the Great Sufferer, the Great Mar tyr, who in the hour of His death, at the malicious power of the world, cried, 'Ell, Eli, lama sabachthani; My God. My God, w'hy 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 you 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 .vour 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.” I 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 I 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. Vfork! 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 get my child into an orphanage, it was clearly Intended that I should keep her with me, for my own charge ani 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 of 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 daudl 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® J 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 my doorway. He was dressed in his 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, liis expression was severe, and if his tongue betrayed the broken Eng- lish of the Polish Jew, I. j n 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! Rv TAT? n TT PATMTUTTUcr ... J Only 5>(2 Hours’ Ride VERY LOW RATES NO CHANGE OF CARS City Ticket Office, 4 Peachtree Street Union Passenger Station. By DR. C. H. PARKHURST. H ALL CAINE'S new story. “The Woman Thou Gavest Me.” is running a® a serial in Hearst’s Magazine. A novel by HaJl Caine Is always an event, and Is certain to create a large readership, whatever It® aim. and along whatever line it is constructed. He writes 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 and evokes a quick re- ®pon8e. So far as can be Judged, his work in the present Instance will not suffer in that respect in comparison HID Eliminates the Em barrassing Odor of Perspiration. Cream or Liquid. 25c All Jacobs’Stores 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 issue in bad effects, and that whiesh Is had can be so presented a® to issue in good effects. The influence of s.ich 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 And what we look for. The same narrative that will inflame the passions ot one read er will create in another disgust for tthe very’ evil over which a mind of coarsest fiber will exult. As in a glass, we find ourselves in the volume into which we gaze. It will be well if all who read "The \Vom#n Thou Gavest Me” will ob serve in the experience of the un married mother the undertone of re morse which sound® beneath her af fectation of self-fiatisfaction and in nocence. The danger in all such cases Is that the reader, if possessed of impulses not altogether unsullied, w ill seize upon the girl's expressions of self-approval, to the neglect of her stealthy confessions of self-con tempt. While Marv is allowed to re joice in a sense of God's blessing upon - her irregrular life, the author is suf ficiently true to the requirements of moral nature to darken her rejoicing w ith 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 lies 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 literary imagination it is nevertheless prac tically true to life, and answers the 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 Pides. We are incapable of rendering to the world the service it Is obligatory upon U9 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 placed 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 find 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. Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 455 EAST FAIR STREET. * ELLA WHEELER WILCOX Read What She Says About “The Woman Thou Gavest Me” in the Last Two Columns ot To-day’s Editorial Page. “You have been out all night,” he said. “Can yo'u tell me where you have been?” But at a second glance I saw that something had happened, something had become known, and that he wa3 there to condemn and to denounce me. “You have been out all night,” he said. “Can you tell me w'here 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 right 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?” i felt myself gasping, but ©till I did not ®peaK. (Continued in Hearst’s Magazine 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, 41 1 should like to have the merits of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound thrown on the sky with a searchlight so that all suffering womert 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. Iola, Kansas.—“During theChange of Life I was sick for two years. Be fore I took your medicine I could not bear the weight of iny 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 Vegetable Compound and 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. Your medicine is worth its weight in gold. I cannot praise it enough. If more women would take your medicine there would he mere healthy women. You may use this letter for the good of others.”— Mrs. D. H. Brown, 809 North Walnut Street, Iola, Kan. •Write to LYDIA E.PINKHAM MEDICINE CO. (CONFIDENTIAL) LYNN, MASS., for advice. Y'our letter will lie opened, read and answered by a woman unci held in strict 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 I had suchawfulbearing down feelings, was depressed in spirits and became thin and pale with dull, heavy eyes. I had six doctors from whom I received only temporary relief. I decided to give Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com 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 for me.—Mrs. Sadie WtL- ua.ms,455 J amei Street, Elkhart, Indiana.