The Kin ... OF o o o a Seraania. I CHAPTER XVIII. HE woman had ter lingers again upon the handle of the door. I': was her visitor's turn to hesitate. For a new- Idea had come into Rose's mind, which made her draw back. doubting whether she was ready for what might be a startling interview, "He won't hurt you!" said the landlady in a contemptuous tone. "If he's a bit moony, It's only in the soft and silly way: and the way they keep those rooms, like a hothouse and smelling of scents fit to knock you down, is enough to do it. A strapping woman like you has more need to be afraid of the heat than ot him." Rose had noticed how the hot air, heavy and sickly with perfumes strange to her, had rushed out through the door as soon as it was opened. "I'm not afraid," she said, "I'll go in." The landlady opened the door and stood by it curiously, as Rose entered. She thought the visitor rather a mysterious person, and did not believe a •word of her story about the lost child. Rose looked eagerly toward the fireplace, where, seated in an armchair and cowering over the fire, was a young man, who turned his head slightly in her direction, without looking at her. "Shut the door. Dleaae." said he. JD a complaining voice, witE a marked tfer- man accent. Rose stopped short, her foreboding growing stronger. Could this miserable- looking lad, cowering over the fire like a starved animal, be the king's son, whom she had promised to care for and protect? She remembered, in a flash of new comprehension, as she stood there, that the sick man had never mentioned the age of his son, that it was her imagination which had supplied all details and pictured a little fair-haired, delicate child, and not a sickly young. man. The door still stood open, the landlady still clinging to the handle. The young man turned peevishly. "Will you have the goodness to shut the door?" he said. And as he spoke he caught, sight, of the tall figure in black in the middle of the room. He rose at once, looking at toer with ehy inquiry. "You come to see me, Madam, or Mr. Keith?" he asked. The name "Keith" brought a revelation to Rose, who remembered every word the dying king had spoken about the Scotch tutor whose loyalty had seemed to his master stronger than his intellect. "Mr. Donald Keith?" she said inquiringly. "Tea," answered the young man. "He will not be returned till thla afternoon." All t.bta time Rose Ravel's ureit burning Mack eyes were fixed steadily on tie pale face before her, as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact which was forcing itself upon her mind more and more strongly. There was a pause, during which she took in every detail: tall, thin figure, apparently grown beyond its strength, narrow chested and stooping; very fair, pale skin, unhealthy and leaden looking; irregular features, lack-lustre blue eyes; hair and eyebrows, so light that there was more of silver than of gold in it: long, thin, well-shaped hands; no hair on the face. One redeeming trait was all Rose saw: —the young fellow's eyes were full of 1-entUiness. and his manner, though rath«r peevish, did not contradict this impression. Rose turned to the landlady. "It is all right, thank you," said she. "I will tell this gentleman my message." With great reluctance the woman retreated. Then Rose turned again to the gentleman, who was watching her movements, listening to her deep voice, with wonder and interest. As soon as the door was shut, and the landlady's unwilling steps were heard going downstairs. Rose drew from under her long clos.lt a' beautiful watch, with chain and seals, which she had found under the dead man's pillow, and moving a few steps nearer to the young man, held it out towards him. "Do you know this?" she asked. "And this?" She showed him the pocket-book. He begjxn to tremble violently, to flush a pale pink, and to look at her with side glances of suspicion. "They are my father's," said he hoarsely, "Do you come from him? Where is her 1 nose did not answer. The young man sank down with one knee on the armchair from which he had risen, and by the look in his panic-stricken eyes •he knew that he guessed the truth. "I know, I know," said he, cowering down. "He said they -would never rest while he lived, or I. And—he—is gone. There is only my weak life to taka now." His head fell until the chin rested on th« hack of the arm chair on which h« w*s kneeling;, he seemed lost in dwpair. Rose roused him with her full, rich voice. She saw that he WM not go much overwhelmed with grief as jrttJi horror. "It is true," she said, "that your father is dead. I was with him when he died. He entrusted me with the task of finding you out, and—" she stopped. It seemed absurd to tell this great over-grown lad, sickly as he was, the exact terms ot the trust confided to her. So she finished with—"And he gave me a letter which I am to deliver myself to one of his executors, whose address he gave me." "Yes. Well?" ' This limp, apathetic creature irritated Rose beyond endurance. He ought to have been distracted with grief, struggling for self-control, full of eager, passionate questionings; but there he knelt, feeble, nerveless, without the sense or the courage even to ; make inquiries about the manner of ' his father's death, overwhelmed by a numb horror which in a stronger man would have been terrible to see. Rose scarcely knew how to go on. At last she said:— "When he lost you in London, he same here to Liverpool, believing that you had been taken to America. At the North-Western Hotel he died, under mysterious circumstances, which I cannot explain, but " "Sh " whispered the young fellow, with a shiver. "It isn't safe to talk about it. You had better go away. And yet " He suddenly raised his head, and looked at her with a yearning expression, like that of a child in pain, who mutely asks its nurse, with innocent eyes, for the alleviation she cannot jive. Rose was moved b the look, and coming forward qir>\!y, with a thril} as .she »Mnembered, that this poor, helpless lad' wa"s 'now under her car*, she laid her hand on ils Jalr hair, and said in a kind tone: "Who are you afraid of? Tell me. You may trust me, as your father did." The young fellow looked up in her face, half in fear, half in reverent, timid respect. "I aoi not afraid." he whispered. "At least, I am only afraid when Donald is away." "Was it he who brought you from London?" she asked softly. "Yes." "Ah!" escaped sharply from her lips. He looked at her 'with iastant suspicion. "How wets that?" she asked, controlling herself. She bad to repeait the question in her gentlest tones, caressing his hair, before he answered. The touch of her hand seemed to have a soothing, mesmeric effect upon him, so that, though still half unwilling, he replied, fully. "My father had gone out; I was alone. Suddenly Donald came in, my old tutor, whom we had left in Sergania. He had followed us, and seen my father, and he came to tell me that our enemies had followed us, that we must escape. I with him, my father alone. Donald brought me to this town, and wished to take me away to sea. ^But I refused. I said I would wait for my father. And now " He covered his face with his hands, quite broken down. Rose, wondering at his fatuous confidence, began to doubt whether his mind was perfectly balanced. She had no doubt whatever that the apparently simple-minded Donald Keith was in the pay of a power hostile to the exiled king, and that he had acted in concert with the mysterious Mr. Silchester. "Now," she said, impressively, stooping so that his wandering eysa met hers, "don't you begin to s*4 that you hav« be«n deceived f Apdn he fell to trembling violently, and shook his head, as if obstinately refusing to entertain, a doubt of hie friend. "No no, no," he said in a weak rolce, "Don't make me doubt Donald. He has been my friend, my companion, for eight years. I must trust him. Who else could I trust?" The poor lad had given her, in those words, the key to his nature. He must have some one to trust, to lean upon. "Trust in yourself," said Rose ro- bus.tly. "I thought that was the first lesson taught to all kinjs' sons." He shook has head, but looked at the resolute face of his visitor with ever- increasing awe and admiration. "I am not like you," he said humbly. "My father would have liked to have had a daughter or a son like you. I was a disappointment." "He always spoke of you with the most devoted affection. He thought of nothing, of no one else." "Yes. I know that. But he was disappointed with me for all that. I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me, and I was afraid of him. It was Donald I loved." His tone grew affectionate at once. "But you would like to see your father's face for the last time?" After a pause he said, "Yes," reluctantly, •wit" a. shiver. Rose drew herself up briskly, "Then you must make haste, or it will be too late. You must go with me, at once, to the hotel, for I do not know how soon they may take him away." But Siegfried hung back, looking horribly frightened. "Not now, not now. I cannot go out on a cold day like this; It would kill BMf! Donald allows me_neT«r to go <»t Then ft Is cold. Walt, -wait tin ne come. Hear what he say." His Enelish. -which had heen ner- recuy correct up to that moment, although he spoke slowly, suffered in his excitement. Rose was very quiet, but she insisted. "I cannot afford the time to wait," she said, "nor can you. Your father, as you will hear from witnesses at the hotel, put great confidence in me, and charged me tc take care of you." "Donald will do that," faltered the young man. "Well, we shall see what He saye- Tn the meantime you have now to come with me." He was terribly afraid of her, now that she had once used that firm tone of command to him. He buttoned himself tightly up in a long fur-lined cloak with rueful glances through the window, fastened a huge silk handkerchief two or three times round his throat, drew one fold of it up over his rcouth, put on two pairs of gloves, and (hen, taking up his hat, opened the door very reluctantly for his imperious visitor. The landlady met them in the passage and watched them out with evident suspicion, "You are not going to make me walk! I cannot walk!" murmured poor Siegfried plaintively. Rose shot an impatient glance at him. What was she to do with thi« impossible creature? "We can get a cab at the corner of the next street but one," she said, in a tone so cold that her companion ventured no further remark. i can see by the likeness that he is aon." "I was not, until this morning," answered Rose very coldly. "As I then considered it to my interest to find him out, I found him ont—as you see." Mr. Silchester looked at her with honest admiration. "To your interest?" he echoed softly. "Oh, no, no, you do yourself injustice." "Not at all," answered Rose, lifting her black eyes to his face. "His father left this young—man," she shot a glance at the kneeling prince -which was more contemptuous than she knew, "in my care. He is in delicate health, I understand, and wants good nursing. He has given nie a letter to one of his executors—"and Rose produced the sealed note, which, she handed to Mr. Silchester for him to assure himsell that the address on the envelope was really in the handwriting of the dead man—"and I have no doubt that in it | he has carried out the intention he ex! pressed of making it worth, my while." "No doubt," assented Mr. Silchester with great suavity. "Ann I am quite sure, Mrs. Revel, that it would be impossible for the young man to be in better hands than yours. To judge by his looks, poor fellow," he went on in a tone so low that .it was impossible ror any one but Rose to hear, "1 should say he has not many weeks to live; but I am happy to think that those few weeks will bs rendered less gloomy by your kind care." Rose bowed her head; she felt that she was almost choking with the de- if by a painful and tinioeugtomed el- tort. CHAPTER "XIX. HEN they got Into the cab, he sank hack Into a corner as If quite exhausted, and Rose, shooting one disdainful look at him under her thick black eyelashes, left him to his own thoughts. At the hotel, which they reached in a few minutes, she left Siegfried waiting inside the cab while she went in to speak to the manager, whose amazement deepened into en- 1 thusiastlc admiration as she related to j him the details of her capture. I "It will be a splendid thing for you" he said, when she had finished. "This gentleman king—if yooi call him king, was evidently in the mood to be generous, and I expect you'll find that in this letter to his executor he has given directions for you to be handsomely provided for." "Well," said Rose energetically, "no provision would be too handsome for the person who is condemned to drag about this miserable creature whom I've left in the cab." Mr. Bronson was much amused, and he went out himself to escort indoors tbe young gentleman so unkindly described. Prince Siegfried declined to enter the hotel at all until he was assured that he would be taken straight to a room which was thoroughly well warmed. In fulfillment of this promise, the manager took him to the room behind his office, where tbe young man instantly drew a chair close up tjo the fire, and held his thin white hands out towards the blaze. "In rapid consumption?" suggested Mr. Branson by the motions of his lips to Rose, who shook her head scornfully. It was only by a desperate effort that she made voice and manner kind as she suggested to him, after watching the young prince for a few minutes as he feebly rubbed his hands before the fire, , that he should now come upstairs and ' see his father's face for the last time, Siegfried's pale cheeks and lips seemed to grow grey at the suggestion, but he had not spirit enough to raise the j faintest objection; drawing himself! slowly and as if with, difficulty out | of his chair, he proceeded to follow her with an expression of mingled terror and resignation. They went up in the lift, of course; at sight of the stairs the prince had stopped short as If on the point of jiving UD the expedition. Mr. Branson accompanied them, and knocked at the door of the dead man's room, where his wife herself had been keeping watch. She unlocked the door, admitted them, and went downstairs to take her husband's place. Prince Siegfried shook from head to foot as they uncovered his father's face for him. He only gave one glance at it, and then withdrew, shivering more than ever, to the foot of the bed, where he threw -himself upon his knees and buried his head in his hands. Rose scarcely noticed him, her attention having been taken up with two things: first, the particularly frigid manner in which Mrs. Branson had drawn herself up and averted her head in passing her; secondly, the presence In the death-chamber of Mr. Silchester, who stood, in an attitude of respectful grief, away from the bed, watching Prince Siegfried with vigilant eyes. Rose had no difficulty in connecting these tww circumstances; she was certain that Mr. Silcbester, taking advantage of the bad character he believed her to have, had been careful to instil the suspicion that she herself had wheedled the dying man into making her handsome presents, and had then killed him in order that she might remain in ua disturbed possession of them. Her entrance with Siegfried had evidently astonished him. His grey eyes traveled from her to the prince and back again, for a few moments, and then he crossed the room with soft, gliding steps vx> ier side. "How is this?" he asked, with his usual fixed, courteous smile. "I did not know thftt yoo were acquainted with tfce unfortunate gentlenuui'i of murderer; but recognizing the fact that her only chance'of fulfilling the dead man's trust was by affected submission to him, she controlled herself by severe efforts, and assumed an attitude of extreme humility towards him. Mr. Silchester still kept up his affectation of entire ignorance of the name and rank of Siegfried and his late father. It was in the character o£ a sympathetic stranger that he presently stepped forward, and, laying a hand very gently on the shoulder of the kneeling lad, exhorted him to b* calm and patient in his sorrow, using the conventional platitudes of consolation in such a soft voice, with such a kindly manner, that, they seemed from his lips to acquire new meaning. Siegfried, who appeared to be a mere puppet '" the hands of whoever chose to lead him, and to be entirely incapable of exercising a will of his own, got up meekly and allowed his new friend to lead him from the room. Mr. Branson and Rob. followed. As they passed out together, Rose found an opportunity to whisper to the manager: — "Your wife suspects me. I am sure of It. It is his doing." And she glanced at Mr. Silchester. "Very likely, if your own suspicion! are correct." was all he said. Mr. Branso.i did not know what to make of the whole business, but he waa such a shrewd man that, the more he considered it, the more he felt Inclined to believe in the nurse's good faith. Just as Siegfried and Mr. Silehester reached the ground-floor of the hotel, a gentleman, who had been making some inquiries at the office, turned and uttered a loud cry. Then he affected to start back two or three steps, overcome by surprise and joy, and rushing forward, enveloped Siegfried in the folds of his heavy cloak. "My heart, my soul, my friend!" exclaimed the gentleman, whom Rose at once recognized as Donald Keith. "Found, found! I had begun to,fear you were lost to me again, for I went to the rooms where I had left you, and found that you had been snared away from me by the arts of " "His present guardian," broke In Rose's deep voice, which caused th« ecstatic young gentleman a more genuine start than the first, "to whom you will please give up your own claims— for the present, at any rate." "And who, pray, are you, madam, that you dare to attempt to come between two souls which call aloud to each other?" asked Donald in a sentimental tone, but with the dogged obstinacy of his nation peeping out through his affected manner. Rose felt that the tutor had made up his mind to retain his hold upon his pupil, ajid that the prince himself inclined, whether from habit or affection, she did not yet know, toward his old companion. Luckily for Rose, a most unexpected supporter came to her rescue. Raising his hat, and affecting to meet Donald Keith for the first time, Mr. Sil- ehester stepped forward and courteous^ ly addressed him. "I am sure that I have the pleasure of speaking to some dear friend of this young gentleman's?" he began. Donald Keith followed this lead, and answered as if to a stranger. But h« was not as good an actor as the older man, and shrewd Rose detected the deference of a disciple, and even some uneasiness, under his assumption of injured haughtiness, "I ani his tutor, sir, and have been for years his dearest friend. He haa now lost his father " "How do you know that?" interrupted the deep voice of Rose. Donald was clearly disconcerted, and he instinctively glanced at his master for assistance. But he had made an error in his reckoning. Mr. Silchester spoke in a low voice, but with a firmness there was no mistaking. "You have been a very good tutor and a. loyal friend. I have no doubt, sir, but you nave perhaps not heard that the father of this young gentleman (I have not yet learned his name) left his son In the care of this lady, who is a certified nurse. I think, therefore, you will not dispute that she i« within her rights." The young Scotchman's face fell; there was no mistaking the fact that he was horribly disappointed. "But I have made sacrifices to follow him to England! Considerable pecuniary sacrifices!" he stammered mour» tuny. . .... iwse laughed; Mr. Silchester lookei annoyed. "On your own responsibility, I suppose?" said the latter sxiavely. "Yes," muttered the unfortunate young man. "I am afraid, then, your case Is weak. Mrs. Revel, I suppose you intend to accompany the young gentleman direct to his father's executor, to whom you bar« the letter you showed me?" ":es. i suppose so," assented rtose, bewildered by the rapid manner in which the strange and unwelcome tie was being strengthened. -There is a. train to London at 2:50. I think you have just time to catch it," continued Mr. Silchester, looking at his watch. "I will send upstairs for your luggage, and see you off myself." There was no possibility of dissent or delay, even if Rose had wished for -ither. ' Silchester's will drew that or !ess decided mortals to itself with magnetic force. In less than a quarter of an hour Rose had shaken hands with Mr. Branson, the manager, received a cold bend of the head from his wife, and a s'ance of horror from her enthusiastic friend of the night before, and found herself sitting in a railway-carriage bound for London, with the sinister face of Mr. Silchester looking in a' the window, and the ruel'u! Scotchman biting his lips a few yards behind him. And there on the opposite seat was the creature with whose fate her own had 'e?en so suddenly and strangely linked. Arvkward, ungainly, sallow of face, dull of eyes, with a woe-begone expression and reserved, shy manner, he sat huddled up and shivering in his furs, staring out helplessly at his late tutor, and looking, to Rose's disgusted eyes, scarcely sane, scarcely human. Just as the train started. Rose turned sharply, and found that Mr. Silchester was gazing upon her face with an expression of unalloyed satisfaction. She started, realizing in a moment its meaning. He b>cf allowed her to retain guard- | ianship of the lad because he believed she hated him. [TO BE CONTINUED.] WATER OF OLD NEW YORK. Wells That Svrved the City Before th«i [ Day of the First Aqueduct. The present city of New York has 800 miles of water mains, and when, ou Jan. 1, are added Brooklyn's 560 miles of water mains, the records of al] other cities will be broken. New York has now a daily water'supply of 225,000,000 gallons; Brooklyn has 85,000,000 gallons, and the combined water supply of the t\vo rities will be in excess of 300.000.000 gallons a. dav. or more than 100 gallons for each inhabitant. Yet before the opening of the Croton water system New York, so i'ar from being an important city in respect to its water supply, had a primitive system, far behind Boston, Baltimore. Philadelphia and other places. Prior to lfi5S there were in New York no public wells. The inhabitants were supplied by private wells, and it vras tbe custom for several families to join in the expense of constructing a well, which was used in common by the mall. The first, public well in New York was constructed cm the Battery. This was petitioned for in 1658 by the burgomasters. It was the great resort of the inhabitants during the period of Dutch rule. In 1G"? an order was given that "wells be made iu the following places by the inhabitants of the streets concerned: One opposite Roelof Jansen, the butcher's; one in Broadway, opposite Van Dyck's; one in the street opposite Derick Smith's: one in the street opposite John Cavalier's; oue in the yard of the city hall; one in the street opposite Cornelius Van Borsum's." In 1687 seven other public \vells were ordered. The system of constructing public wells during the earlier part of the last century was by means of a contribution of £8 by the city government, the remaining expense being defrayed by the people residing in the neighborhood, none of whom was allowed to nse the well until he had contributed his proportion of the expense. In 1750 pumps came into nse, and an act was afterward passed by the assembly to enable the city to raise a tax for constructing and keeping in repair the wells and pumps. The subject of procuring a supply of water by means of large veils, pumped by machinery, and thrown into an elevated reservoir from which it might be led through the city in wooden pipes, was brought before the common council as early as 1774 by Christopher Collis. who is sometimes 6tr!ed the father of improvements in the water supply of this city. Tbe rules established by him and altered from time to time to conform to the growth of the city must seem at this day onerous to many, for they appear to have been based upon the idea that water was a commodity to be dealt in, a precious commodity, and that it should at all times be used as sparingly as possible. A failure to recognize the truth of this entailed penalties, the most serions of which was incarceration in the public lockup.—New York Sun. Xmntncfcet There are many receipts for tbe making of gingerbread, yet the principal ingredients and methods are very much the same. Good materials must be used in its manufacture as well as exact measure in compounding it to insure perfect results. The compound must be left very soft, kneaded only just enongh to Seep'ic from sticking to a well floured board, baked in a brisk oven. The so called Nanracket gingerbread is made aa follows: A cnpfnl each of sngar and molasses, a cupful of butter, 2 eggs, a tea- gpoonfnl of soda dissolved in a half cupful of warm water, a teaspoonful of salt and tbe same of ginger. Stir in floor and knead as little as possible. Roll in thin sheets and bake in a bride oven- ITCHING SKIN DISEASES for tortnrtr> jt. dltfig* , itchinj:. burning, »nd »c*3y »ktn *uiU scalp dlten*es wiili lo&s pfbair. — W«.rra baili* wjiiicn- TICCRA So<tP, gentle applications ofCi;Ticu*4, (ointment}, and full do»e» of CCTICCK* RR>OI T, greatest 01 blood puriflert *ad humor core, I§ Mid thmurhont the world. Poratt DRro * CHEW, CORP.. Sole Prot*..R<*ton, +f ** Hoir to Curr Itchinc Skin D«««r«,' JIT*. 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F. ^ tbe €wtt TkUnfcHwni imt* •id to are for ^ H«««*t»t »«im«lrjr«»4, Ereryday symptom* of disorders—acid stomach, distract after eating, burning at pit of stomach, duU, heary feeling—Bur- dcxk BloodJBitten Deter fall* to correct troubles of thU tort.
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