HomeMy WebLinkAboutLucknow Sentinel, 1891-12-18, Page 2ST
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a At the inght of yenta on," Mop;
laraveasilistreleep
th I'd heard it myself, and semi the pars
e face just now."
is I Her face, did not express much am
e meet certainly; but ehe tried to back a
'• from him into the shadow of the curta
aud he let her go with an impatient a
- At this juncture, for the third tune tae
bell tinkled its warning of an arrival,
y rnediately approached him.
y were here, your cart ie outside. How
dear Helen?"
, She is here to answer for hereeli."
e avas—firea oaf; and it is
k attch a hot day. Really," peering at her
d " she looksterribly pale. Come out bete;
e the air, ley° ; come out both of yon, and we
will have tea under the tulip tree. I wiil
t tell Betsey to bring it at once." And she
rude just now. I hardly knew what I said ;"
t I was cut up, don't you know. I suppose
- it isn't spur fault that you don't fancy me ;
upon word, I dotet know what you
should see in me after alL It is rough luck
, thoegh, I shall never see your face, nottrapar
your voice again. I have been thiekkg, we
should spend our whole lives together.
That thought had taken root deep ; how
Those were his last words. Before Helen
had time to think what they meant he had
gone ; she heard him talking to Miss Mit-
ford in' the garden, then she heard. his quick
step on the gravel, then the cliek of the
gate and the rumble Of wheels, load at first,
but soon lesseaing mitile they alied -into
d me
it Would be easiest to do Ito when la
C.4 ehinPle.4 911 I* steamily and hi
tc;Whnt wonid you have seen ?" she in
"'Near insigat might have misled you.'
• Now feminine Weapons Of warfare ma
eerve their purpose in an 'Amazonian battle
I quite harmless ; he Was a frank opponent
he hie etraight front the ehoulder„ oi he did
pakte bit et all. ,
nearer, she wise standing by the plebe, bac
to the light, " do you think that if 1 ha
come in as I did-athrough no fault of mid
e --..and seen tbat pooe chap making love to
you, and hadn't asked you waat it mean
but had taken it for granted that it wa
your 'usual custom of an afternoon,' the
that would Jeave pleased you ?"
44 It would have been less eccentric ; bu
perhape I ought te be grateful for the inter
est you take in my affairs." ,
• In speaking, Ilea voice broke, the sprig of
sweetbrier whit* she held was trembling
and be saw it.
" I'm awfully sorry, Helen," he said,
gently. " I beg your pardon. I had no
right to bother you, but upon my honor I
couldn't help it, I was ao angry."
He had hardly heard what she said, her
changing color her evident distress he
attributed to the scene through whica' she
had lately passed. It seemed cruel to
increase her agitation hintself, but he had
vile so far that he could not draw back.
He muet secure this troubled angel at once
and soothe her into perfe t happiness ; he
could not bear to see h rown, he could
not bear to think that e had wounded
her. He guessed his angel had a temper,
but of that he was' not afraid ; a temper in
prospective is sometimes -considered one of
the yather interesting vices, but like the
rest of such failings, loses its allurements at
• He stood in silence and watched her ; he
was thinking how fair and stately a wife
she would be ; he postponed for one moment
the words which should bring her to his
arms. During thatmoment she recovered
herself ; with a sudden and yet unhurried
movement she seated he?self on the window
seat ; a table of some dimensions now inter-
vened between herself and him.
" We are making a very great mountain
out of nothing, Mr. Jones," she said,
lightly, " in your agitation you even .forget
my name. Would you mind opening the
door ? The heat in here is horrible, and a
draught will blow away the scent of the
flowers ; they are so overpowering they
make pne breathless."
•
ktZawn-te 4aie CQat8 all extvan or
• Was with me, in m�-:dreaU E,
An cnsy shave:'" with'peachy...
Still cepa ney pathway gleams.*
want to find that kind. of im. ,`
Sa haandsome, :brave,.and
greet anct stalwart, and. wi
,a3 Ta}ata aaeeee _ aiea . eee a
weal earns 'that. have .so
W,itli hands that look
lt`I could Hind that.
:I'd uot.bo single to
Alba!, tat's' fellows
So silly likr)f
coata
eilariiikethe
LOok
Thfi
alk.
tatiy look
nd their necks
e brains.
Vale know
nafacial soap
tliy or be peer,
lika for enoe to see
alma inan
N'S LOVERS.
OHAPTER
..The beet laid,sehemes of mice and men
.te net leaveluanoaght but grief and pain
igen Seemed reluctant to part with Mr.
Ole Her eteanuous efforts to prolong
ear farewell at the 'garden gate met with
'enecees. It wait unreaionable for her to
6614 answering her quick questions
-:iitelayaiit • subjects ; he could find no
Oates& 'With' which to respond to her
hy remeake. "But jest Ett last he stem-
, Meted pat that " he anderstood," " he
kneW,",•; hoped elle would be happy,"
q heped thet he loved her as she should
ovede'ae \And then, refusing to enlighten
teply tha,her quick question as to
he meant, aintshaIrdng' his head sadly
sefintJderiiaI of the impatation—what-
itenigat eignify—he turned abruptly
t,was Wonder that ahe looked pile as
e retraced her steps to the bowie, for the
lazing ,suri streamed doWn on her bare
Aashe weed the sweet -brier tree
aPauied to gather a spray on which one
,tilekeditt, the pet* fell. one by one to the
mend, and the resisting thorns tore her
Ors. The crushed leavea left their scent
,.eiespon her hands, for she , held them in a vice
:Mr. Jones Was standing by 'the window
.when she came in. She looked at him
vely. She had cause for gravity ; the
ange in his mien frightened her. She
'hardened her heart and sent her thoughts
Coursing back to past events, by the memory
erwhich she could brace her determination.
retained her glance ; his eyes were grave
and _steadfast ; his attitude was alert ; his
'aweless, good-humored smile was gone.
' The fact was that, for once in his life, hie
emotions were stronger than hie will. He
ehad the Rivera Meet picnic made up his s
Mind that Helen should be his wife. Sys-
teinatically and deliberately he had set
hinteelf to win her love. If the task had
not been easy, it was none the less to his
taste on that account ; neitheeewas the re- f
milt less likely to please- him. She had, t
:against his better judgment, subjugated A
rune he, 'recognizing her disadvantages, o
toredooked them.
\ Until this moment he had been in no
ham ; he would not Precipitate matters ; h
on the contrary, he would prolong his wooing la
mail her feelings fully reciprocated, if they n
did not exceed, hie own ; that wordd be hie
revenge for her obduracy.
He had promised himself a delightful a
time he had laid a capital plan, but
" The besb laid schemes of mioe and men Y
Gang aft a -glee."
The advent of this rival was unlooked w
for ; it upset his calculations and his self -
He would not beat about the bush, he
would go straight to the root of the matter. 93
He Would not have any nonsense, he teld a
himself, angrily, before she returned. But
when he saw her, looking, in her ' faded
*.nk gown,, as fair and delicate as 'one of "
those sea convolvalus that grew intertekned e
with thrift and sea -lavender on the cliffs,
and a bunch of which he had gathered for li
her only the eight before, he felt, with a
auddee qualm Of heart, what it would be to eh
lose her, and he softened ale words. te
" I hope did not send your friend
" He was juet going when you came."
" Is he staying in the place ?"
" Came over from Ilfracombe, perhaps ?"
" I have known WM for six months."
Her way of answering him displeased and wi
surprised him—it wets reluctant and con- ma
etrained, it was oh, disquieting thought ! •
la3 though she had something she wished m
to hide from him ; this hypothesis was un-
thea.rable, and shotild be dismissed at any
" Are you going to marry him ?"
There was a pause. A plane so long as_
to be alarming, then she answered—
" No," in defiant and distinctly un-
friendly tones. He was annoyed. but not alo
to be deterred from gaining his point by her hi
" Yeu don't think I hive any eight to
.ask you that question ?" he said.
" Any one has a right to ask any ques- lov
tion, I suppose/ ; but it is always unpleas-
1
ant to be catechised."
" When I found that parson alone with int
you and—and—ahem—holding your hands, sta
Ever atom of color had forsaken her face (Jai
onas
use -
way
heti
gate
400
im-
you
ia
lie did not open` the door, nor did he
answer. She.did not look at him but she
was conscious of his steady', gaze. She
could hear anything just then tataer than
" We will go out," she went on, quickly,
" it is cooler in the garden. I must fetch
my hat and order tea. We will have tea
under the trees."
She was passing him on her way to escape
through the door—how clever was her ruse
to • get away—her hand was close to the
hanclle when he stepped forward and barred
her progress.
peak to you."
" Not now,"—there was a wild petition
in her voice which startled him—" wait—
presently—not now." ,
" It is all right, darling. I don't want to
tighten you, but the truth is I can't_ get
hrough an hour without you. • When I
m noawith you, I think of you. I dream
f you every night. I want you to marry
He paused. She was confounded at this
onor which he had thrust upon her, the
shes concealedeher eyes ; she did not move
or answer.
. "I'm so awfully fond of you, dear t that
ery first day in the train I liked you. Yon
re such a splendid girl, Helen ; you are so
retty, and you are such good company ;
ou are differeut from the others. I never
new that I could be such a fool about a
otaan. I will marry you no one but you.
After all, love is the thing . for which to
arry. Darling," with a soft contented
smile and extended hand, " if ,you won't
arry me, if you chuck me ovei, I shall go
own and drown myself, or—"
Or marry some one elae," returned' his
darling' ; who spoke quite collectedly.
I advise the latter coarse as it might not
ntail such notoriety."
"Helen," stillsmiling, " you hard-hearted
" My name is Miss Mitford," interrupted
e ; " perhaps yea will be good enough not
call me by any other:"
" My 'dearest girl, don't chaff, I want my
ewer. I am in red-hot earnest."
" When will you marry me ?"
Mr. Jones' smile faded. " Look 'here,
u that I am most awfully. fond of you.
can t putet strong enough. I love you
th all my soul, I swear I do. Will you
arry you."
silence. '
Yes, he had gennataen he w
back ; he said he could not live
her. Surely, surely, surely he would
again. What had she said? Her wre
pride, her suicidal vanity had made
wounsl him. He must know, he must gue
that she was only a woman after all, an
therefore to be won. The remembrance
Lady Lucy Freemantle ran a leaden thoug
through her brain.
The recollection of Miss Jones"' hint,
her overbearing manner, the sins (
omission) of the Jones' progenitors, a
these things which had combined in prornp
ing her recent action were now replaced b
a new and sickehing dread, which she (un
used to and restive tinder mental pain
strove with the strength of her strong will
to banish—and failed.
" My love, we shall miss Mr. Jones,
said her aunt, as they sat together unde
the tulip tree drinking their tea. " Me
make a house lively, and he had sueh
pleasant, cheery way about him. I declar
he reminded me more than once of my poo
Thomas."
" Perleaps he will come to -morrow ?
Helen was sitting, or rather, lounging bac
in a deck chair, her large white hat was o
the grass at her feet, her handswere claspe
behind her head, her eyes, soft and' dewy
were fixed on her companion's face.
" Nay, my love, he bade me a last good
-bye he is going to -night --on business to
London I underetood him to Say, and then
e goes to Paxford, I believe. Helen, you
tea is getting cold. Dear 1 dear 1 there i
poor little fly in it."
Helen carefully extracted the fly with a
eaf, and placed it on her knee to dry and
ecover itself, but it was past cure ; the
tea had been of fatal heat, and it was dead.
he looked at it ; how easily it had come to
grief, a false fletter, a fall, and a painful
eath as punishment for one small mistake.
o and fro in the sunshine, myriads of gnats
and flies were darting—
" You are so thoughtful, love ; wbat
" It's toe- hot to talk, auntie. Jest look
at thebed of portulaccas with the sun on
i . I never saw such tints ; they would
ve a painter to despair."
" Mrs. Majoribank's yellow poppies are
agnificent, Helen," with the gentle jeal-
usy of the amateur gardener. " Her coarse
il snits them to perfection ; she has
remised me some seed next spring if I live
long. To my mind the seed -time is the
ppiest of the year. .We sow, and there
hardly a limit to.our expectation of joy -
1 results. Now the harvest is a period of
eat anxiety ; we realize that nothing is
der our own control, we are at the mercy
the elements ; we gardeners live on faith
e the farmers. Mrs. Majoribanks makes
great miatake with her roses - she will
t prune, she will not sacrifice die present
the future. My love, you haae scratched
nr hand; you will pluck the
eet-brier, you should cut it Helen.
hat is "what I said to Mr. Jones ;
tore off one of the fthoots so roughly as
passed the bush on his way tie the gate ;
is remarkably partial to sweetebrier.
deed I never knew such a young man so
voted to flowers. Mrs. Majoribanks is
rprised at his intended marriage to that
ughter of Lord Parsons -being unopposed
her noble relations, but he is such an
tellable and wealthy youth, and, I am sure,
1 make a considerate husband to any
ung lady. Mrs. Majoribanks quite
aught, 'until Miss Jones herself contra -
ted the report, that he came here to pay
court to you, love. But, I said, Lord
raon's daughter could, from her assured
sition, marry into trade, a connection
ch we should prefer a member of our
ily' to avoid. I do not like gossip,
len. I spoke most decidedly, and Mrs.
joribanks quite agreed With me."
How parched the lawn is, Auntie. As
n as the sun goes down and it gete
ler we will turn on the hose and water
grass as well as the flowerie"
Nay, love, it would so encourage the
gs, a heavy dew falls each night—but do
you like—Mrs. Mejoribanks was very
tty, I stayed there so long welkin
of
ht
of
11
a
1
is
dri
SO
SO
ha
is
fa
gr
un
Lik
0
is
hi
und the ,garden and talking. -She tcal
Sir Adolphus is in London, he is always
ding to his wealth by" fortunate specula -
ns ; everything he touches turns to
d, those girls of his will have fabulous
tunes and yet Fred Majoribanks will P,
t propose -to the elder one. who is "
doubtedly attached to him, his mother `
s. Young men are sadly hmadotron "
to
811
yo
th
po
" That is all your answer ?"
" You have nothing more to say to me ?"
" Nothing."
He was stunned. It was not her words
ne, but her hard, set face that confounded
m.
Is there some one else, Helen ?"
You—you are not," unsteadily, "
e with some other fellow ?"
He caught her by the wrist, pul ed her
o the full light of the open windo . and
red into her white fan.
I could have eworn you lik me," he
d, " ea trio doubt that other poor chap
w o waa here this afternoon could have
blazed, her lips were compressed.
" Don't be angry. I only wanted to
make sure ; for a moment, I was afraid. I
knew you would have told me long ago if
you had been engaged. I was a fool to
n eon
a bit annoyed I should have seen the whole
Mr. dorueseeraseetekingaaa-good—eleel—feer
edone. I suppose this sort of thing diverts
you ; it's a variety entertainment—one poor
devil after another dancing to' your pipe.
I'm afraid I don't understand women ; for,
on m, life, I don't know what kind of
grati cation they get out of this form of
CO
th
slu
eh
ro
ad
tio
gol
for
no
un
Mie
she
Aso
Jon
uie
taw beneath hei chin, and ttu•ew liack the
nbboae upoa her shoulders : she was over -
1' Mrs. Majoribanks is a friend a mine,
love " !the said, with mild reproof.
isult that the very, reason you would
like to hear her abused? There, Auntie,
don't leek shocked, it was a a:are—only it
oppressive and that fly prevented you
drinking your tea. Will you have some
raspberry vinegar instead ?'
"Raspberry 'vinegar," with a laugh which
'was half a sob. " Vinegar already; no, thank
Helen's mind that evening was a weather -
go to the beach, then she remembered that
the children were expecting her and she
must not diseppoint them. At the gate she
turned back, it was so hot she would stay in
the garden ; on reaching the bush of sweet
brier she made a fresh decision, the sea
breeze on the shore would be refreshing, ehe
veduld go—nay, she wouldn't, it was tie loeg
a walk—she would—she wouldn't—finally
she would and she went. '
She returned late,' very gentle and sub -
*lewd, very careful of, and caressing toward,
hM. aunt, with pensive eyes and a restless
spirit. •
This new mood seemed likely to be per-
manent, is lasted through the ensuing week
and on to the final days of leer visit.
heavy showers fell contin ally, the Atlantic
if
of thunderstorms had sneeeded the heat,
was troubled and stormy. Neither rough
breezes nor rain kept Helen indoors she
haunted the cliffii ,and the seashore. 'Upon
the sea -lashed rocks she) would stand for
hours, a tall, unbending figure against the
dark backgreund, the wind flapping her
calhtieretksird beating a warm color into her
On the last day of hersojournatNoelcombe
she had goiee for her usual evening ramble on
tlee beach a she had walked for so long
'0,4:forian r that she felt very -tired as she
the steep ascent homeward.
aaa new sensation, but its
r merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad one tires in a mile,"
as Shakspeare ana several other people have
hitherto observed.
When she reached Carnation Cottage she
saw Miss Elizabeth, with chintz skirt pilmed
up high, and Betsey's pattens protecting
her feet from the damp grass, spudding up
daisy roots on the lawn ; on seeing Helen
she left her work ,and hurried toward her.
were never coming ! Mrs. Majoribanks has
been here, she waited an hour on purpose to
wish you good -by."
" I should like to have wished her good -
by," said Helen with a mischievous gleam
" She had news for us, Helen, she had
been calling at the Jenese,s' ; the engage-
ment is announced."
Helen was overtired, her knees were
trembling, her voice was rather harsh, she
had raised it high. She turned toward the
sweet -brier then changed her mind and
faced the elder lady.
" Whose engagement ?" she asked.
" Sir Edwin Shuter and Miss Patricia
Jones ; Mrs. Majoribanks is so vexed, she
says that her son deliberately flung away
his chance."
A beautiful pine crept over Helen's face,
the dimples Played in her cheeks ; she
laughed a little joyous contented laugh to
herself. ,
" I hope they will be as happy, as happy
ad the Queen," she said, returning to the
bush of sweetbrier.
" Both engagements announced on the
same day1 A curious coincidence Helen.
Patricia's will take place first. Lady Lucy
Freemantle and our Mr. Jones will not be
married until Christmas, Lord Parsons will
not return from America before then and
he wishes to be present. The engagement
gives universal satisfaction."
But the engagement was in truth not
nearly so unprecedented as Miss Elizabeth
Mitford declared.
Poor Mr. Flight, had he known it, was
avenged.
. CHAPTER XI.
We rise in glory as we sink in pride ;
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
For, 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
Summer was long past. The corn was all
gathered in ; the shivering trees were shed-
ding their variegated leaves ; the chilly
breath of coming winter was to be felt at
" rosy morn and dewy eve." Even to a
genuine coentry lover, the last days of Oc-
tober, amid dying flowers, naked hedges,
newly stripped woods and cloudy skies are
depressing, and the thought ef pavements,
shop windows, dry crossings and fresh faces
poesesses a new and decided attraction.
But if Helen ever aighed as she trudged
over sodden lea.vela and, waded through the
muddy Meriton lanes, no one heard her ; if
the anivereal decay and death of autumn
saddened her, no one stispected thet it was
so. How should they ? She was the life
and soul of her home—an imprisoned sun-
beam in which they all rejoiced. If she
smiled less easily, her smile was sweeter
and less swift ; if her apirits were no longer
rampant, they did not overpower—they
sustained—the humor of her neighbors. If
she was less ready of advice less quick of
demaion, more diffident of the justice of her
judgment, more lenient, more sympathetic,
and -more thoughtful, she " was older," they
&sal, as though age always wrought its
change thus.
One or two of Helen's girl -acquaintances,
who belonged to the conventional, egotisti-
cal, man -hunting isect--of whom the mem-
hero, in converse, manner, appearance, and
lamentable, rrionatony of character reeemble
each other as closely as do primroses--de-
care 'for thinge" (" things" meant their
e,onversation — which, however, both in
nrport and intention, far exceeded their
Becauee Helen had made a mistake, or
eeatiee fortune bed not been kind to her,
;tau no reo,sson that she ehould revenge her -
If upon fate by making her innobent
amity exceedingly uncomfortable, if hot
()naively miserable, by repinings and
he sort of girl to visit her t
g.
notices, so many trifles which etcape my 'se,
evation ; did you remark that Lady
es has dyed her hair ?"
She does not dye it," said the girl,
as they said; she had grown older. Mini
euoh ctrcumstanees a girl of her calibre age.
Bat befere loreg Helen had good cease to
more sober and less childish. A sad event,
took place. au event at which remorse.
sorrow and some natural excitement were
hlent
Flight to whom she had been so un-
kind—Mr. 'Flight, 011 whom she had
praetted her foolish wiles with such =-
looked for result—Mr. Flight, wiles° very
name turned her sick arid coldeesalr. Flights,
of whom she neVer thought witlihnt stab
of sharp pain—Mr. Fliglat had atoned for
all his offences by death. He was dead
mentam of broken heart as the eause•of his
death.' He had, like many a heart -whole
man, taken fever at Florence, and, after a
loeg and severe illness, had succumbed to
the disease. His last words had been of
Helen ; hie ast act had been to make hit
will, by which he left her everything that
he pesseesed. She found herself the owner
of fifteen thousand pounds and forgot the
satisfaction of her riches in her anger with
herself She had never so despised heiself.
She had. been despicably, pitilessly re-
morseless. Even now she could not cast
her warmest thoughts to him ; she could
not grieve for him, she could not Wish Mina
back again. 1
ti,4
She did not want his one ;. all she
wanted was to tell him ho ' rly ehe re-
hpaevnetewd,epantd bow well she , nde stood now
that she had laughed where she had better
Regrets are vain emotions, as Helen
knew to her cost—useless encumberers of
the soil. Regrets mast be strangled, if life e
is not to be a waste tangle of retiospect ;
for regrets, like all weeds, grow apace.
Mrs. Mitford was very tender with the
girl at this time, and would watch her,
fuetiaely and unebserved, from anxious
eyes. She had drawn her own conclusion
—a fresh and falseone—from Helen's altered
looks and ways.
" Henry," she said one day—impulsively
disclosing (as women do) the secret which ,
she had intended to keep inviolate forever
—" Henry, Helen regrets that poor young
" To be sure elle does," the rector an-
swered`, energetically. " I should think
poorly of her if she did not. hy, we all
teeyregret him. His sermons w above the
" But, Henry, you' do not understand me.
I mean moretaan I said. - I mean that she
mistook the nature of her feelings. She
really and truly loved him."
For a, few secondi her husband remaines1
in thought, then he spoke slowly—
" No, Honoraa—I think not. Do you not
remember how I scolded her for singing that
ridiculous ballad to the poor man—
' It at the most exceeding bore, of all the bores I
know, •
To have a friend who lost. his heart a short
Had her heart been touched, those words
would not have occurred to her."
" I don't know that," said Mrs,. Mitfoad,
with an indulgent smile. " A girl will say
or do anything from a sheer love of teas-
ing."
Again, with a thoughtful brow, her hus-
band reviewed the past, then he spoke with
decision—
" You are wrong., Honore. You were '
always a most imaginative woman. That
poor young man had no attraction. for the
child. I found her hiding in the hayloft
more than once when he called. As there
was no chance of her being discovered by
him, I dea not think it • possible she would
have concealed herself had she formed in
attachment for him."
ready to distrust her own judgment and to
aely upon that of her husband, so she bright-
ened perceptibly.
" So she hid in the loft, did she ? How
Frances has searched for her, while that
poor young man was with me for hours in
the drawing -room. That idea upsets my
theory ; I am glad of it. But it is odd to
me that our child should be Eft) hard of
heart. I had had seeeral slight affairs before
I was her age."
" I don't see anything wrong with Helen
a grig. You women are always raking an:
she is prettier than ever, and as merry as
sifting and prying for alove-tale. If a gin
is happy, without a husband, yee won't be-
lieve it.'
Mrs. Mitford smiled shyly. Her husband
was no doubt right.
" I shall send her away, Henry. Now
that there is no difficulty about ways and
means, I should like her to go and see my
people. Change of airand scene is excellent
for mind and body, besides which she win
meet many—"
" So you won't be content till you have
lost her, Honore. You foolish woman, hy
won't you keep her here as long as yoeu, I
You will break ,your heart when she ma es
" I should break my heart if she didn't
marry," Mrs. Mitford said, smiling very
ieweetly at her rector ; -".for I want her to
be happy—as happy as I am."
So it was arranged that Helen should pay
a round of visits, with which arrangement
she was nothing loth to comply. She wrote
lively letters home, descriptive of lively
and varied life. She made nevi friends and
met pleasant people ; she seemed to enjoy
everythingand find amusement everywhere.
There was an even, a sustained content to
be detected in her mode of writing which
was foreign to her years, and particularly
new to her former habits of mind. In each
letter she inquired for her Aunt Elizabeth.
"She never writes to me," w s her come
plaint, repeated over and over a • an.
Mental worry, over -work and excesses
are the fruitful causes of insanity. Dr.
I Williams' Pink Pills are an unfailing
remedy, building anew the blood and re-
storing leasted energies. Good for men Emd
1 women.
Persons with tender feet will be inter-
ested in a new in -sole for hoots and &mem
It is made of hollow India rubber, inflated
with air or gas under pressure, the external
protective covering being cativas, eilk or
other aimilar material. Inserted in the shoe
it relieves the pressure of the leather against
all tender parts of the foot.
haeni- believed -reenter; I Wouldn't toiTeia. ••••••• ' s •
amusement. I never guessed you were
making a fool of me, Helen. " wouldn't &
gr eeabld, spiteful old woman."
taushitom hat, which were fastened in a
ter
make them pay for her caprice,
mettle, which was of the tighb quality. But, I
since I was a boy,"
4