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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1891-7-23, Page 2amiseepeneamaiswalee gailya to Style. clespiee this eyes, of wearing Oewns thet tiene into the dust, But the other wemen do it, And et) euppeee I must. It is neither ueat nor nobby • To be wiping unehe etreet, And. the wily epee whalike it Ave the women with big foot. If I ouly had the °outage To endure the seorneulsnilos Of me fellow female creatures I would cling to olden styles. I would always have my dresses Short enough to Plies the dire, Audi wouldn't weeremid ruffles Ou the bottom of my skirt, But I am too groat a cowarxl deoided stand to take, So, with all the rest I follow in a foolish fashion's wake. And my newest gowns I'm making With a heteful, horrid dip, Over which some luckless mortal Will, some day, be sure to trip. But I bold I eta a martyr Almost worthy of a crown, For my meek and mild adoption Of the now prevailing gown. -Susan M. Best. TWICE MARRIED. At a late -very late breakfast, the morn- ing after the Shirley ball, the Smithwere assembled with the exception of litanche, who had entreated to be left undi.turbed, since she must sleep or die, and l'ureival, who had breakfasted sketchily ou scraps and confectionery, hours before, mud was away in the woods with his gun. The mail, always deposited in a little heap beside the general's plate, lied been distributed. There was very little -two newspapers a couple of letters for Nesbit Thorne, mid one for Norma from a New York friend, claiming a promised visit, and overflowing with gossip and news of Gotham, full of personalities also, and a faint ladylike suspicion of wickedness -a racy, entertaining letter. " Mamma," observed Norma, glancing up from her letter, "Kate says that Cecil Cum- berland is engaged, or going to be engaged, I can't exactly make out which. Kate words it a little ambiguously; at all events there appears to be considerable talk about it. Kate writes : Cecil looks radiantle, wor- ried, and sulkily important. His family are ranged in a solid phalanx of indignant oppo- sition, which, of course, clinches the affair firmly. Eva Cumberland was here this morning in a white heat of passion over it ; and I believe apoplexy or hydrophobia is imminent for the old lady: The fact of Mrs. " Norma's voice trailed off into an unintel- lig,ible murmur, and she read on silently. Mrs. -- who, my dear ?" questioned her mother, with lively interest. "Is Cecil going to marry an objectionable widow ? " "Wait &moment, mamma. Katie writes so indistinctly, I'll be able to tell you presently." There was a shade of reserve perceptible in Norma's voice. "But why do the family oppose it ?" per- sisted Mrs. Smith. A warning look from her daughter admonished her to let the nmtter rest '• that there were facts con- nected with Mr. Cumberland's marriage, the investigation and discussion of which had better be postponed. Mrs. Smith's tongue burned with inquiries, but she bravely held them back, and sought to produce a diver- sion by idle conjectures about Percival. Thorne presently followed her and estab- lished himself opposite. He was great friends wiah Norma.; micein the daya,before his marriage there had appeared- a likeli- hood of their becoming more than friends. All that had been forgotten by the man; the woman's memory was more tenacious. They were wonderfully good friends still, these two ; they never worried or jarred on one another. Thorne, having no special desire to read his own letters, lighted a cigar, stirred the fire to a glorious blaze, and, waxed conver- sationaL The theme he selected for dis- cussion was the topic introduced and inter- dicted at the breakfast table a few momenta previously -the debatable engagement of their New York acquaintance. On this subject he chose to exhibit an unusual -and as Norma felt, unnecessary, degree of curiosity. He cross-questioned the girl vigorously, and failing to elicit satisfactory replies, laughingly accusedher of an attempt to earn a cheap notorietY by the elaboration of a petty mystery. "1 wish you'd stop trying to put me on the witness stand,' Nesbit ?" she ex- claimei in vexation ; "why don't you read your owa letters? One is from Ethel, I know. See what she says." Thorne took his wife's missive from his pocket, opened, and glanced through it hurriedly; then turned back to the first page, and re -read it more carefully, the ex- pression of his face hardening into cynicism, slightly dashed with disgust. The letter was penned in a large running hand and covered eight pages of dainty cream -laid paper. It was rambling in phraseology, and lachrymose in tone, but it indicated a want, and made that want clear. It was -divorce. Mrs. Thorne gave no special reason for desiring release from her marriage vows; she dwelt at length on her "lonely and un- protected" condition, and wee very sotry for herself, and censidered her case a hard one; suggesting blame to her husband in that he had not taken the necessary steps for her release long before. She intimated that he had been selfish and 'lacking in proper consideration for her .in leaving it to her to take the initial steps in the matter. He should have. arranged about the divorce at the time of the separation, she said, and so have spared her annoyance. As he had not done so, she hoped he would show some consideration for her now, and help her to arrange the dis- • agreeable business as speedily and privately as possible. He really owed her indulgence " aftet all that had passed"; the last words were heavily underscored. "Read'that 1" he said, and tossed the letter into Norma's lap. While she was doing so, he broke the seal of the other letter which proved to be a communication from a firm of solicitors in a small town in Illinois, in whose hands Mrs. Thorne had placed her case. It was delicately 'and ambiguously worded, as became the nature of the business, and contained simply a corteous notifioation of their client's inten- tions. Norma had been prepared for Mrs. Thorne's letter by that of her friend M rs. 'Vincent ; and perliaps elso lsy a seeret, hope on which she had fed for yeers-a, hope tha this woold happen. She read the let ter 'therefore withont emotion, and returned it without corn men t. ' ?" he rpterieel impatiently. “ Well 1" she echned. " Whet do you Welk of it ?" "1 think that Mrs, Thorne 'wishes to marry again. e • , " No !-do 'yea ?" The tone was thought- ful ; the interrogation delivered slowly. The idea wee a new one, and it put a differ- ent complexion upon the matter, because of the chile ; there wore still Revera,1 yeaes during Which' the persona,' custody of the boy woe the tnother's f right. It be - 'moved him to look int() ON matter more closely. Yhee, Sar'0 of it," reepoinled Norma ; "its town talk, See what Kate Vincent says about She handed him her letter folded down at this paragraph; " People heve been mildly excited, and the gossips' tongues set wag ging by a rumoe whieb floated dowia from the .Adirondacks last summer, and has been gaiuiug body mid substance ever sham Yee remember how Cecil Cumberland philan- dered after a certain lady of our accihaint- ance last winter, and, how neeemitting were his attentions ? Friendship, my dear Harmless frieudship of a pure platonic plat- form ; you understand--honi sat qui mal y pease. Well, this autumn the plot thick - °lied the Pletonisin became less appar- ent ; the friendship more pronounced, Nothing painfully noeiceable--oh no ; the lady is too clever -still, the gossips began te take a contracteand work on it in slack seasons, and latterly with diligence. It is openly predicted that madam will seek a divorce, and then !-we shall see what we shall see. Cecil looks radiantly worried and sulkily important. His family are ranged in a solid phalanx of indignant Oppo- sition, which of course clinches the matter firmly, Eva Cumberland was here this morning M a while heat of passion over it, and I believe apoplexy or hydrophobia is imminent for the old lady. The fact of Mra. Thorne's being still a married woman gives the •affair a queer look to squeamish mortals, and the Cumber- land women are the quintessence of con- servative old -fogyism ; they might be fresh from the South Carolina woods for all the advancement they can boast. It's wicked, and I'm ashamed of myself, but whenever I think of Ethel Thorne trying conclusions with those strait-laced Cumberlands, I'm •filled with unholy mirth." Then followed belated apologies for this careless handling of a family matter, and copious explana- tions. Mrs. Vincent was a wordy woman, fond of writing, and apt to be diffuse when not pressed for time. • Thorne returned the letter to his cousin, and announced his intention of returning to New York immediately. . "By using dispatoh I can catch the boat at Wintergreen this afternoon," he said. wish you'd tell your mother, Norma, only your mother, please; it will be time enough to =plaint the others when the whole affair is out. Norma gave the required promise will- ingly. She, too, objected to this affair obtaining publicity. While Thorne sought her father to explain a sudden call to New York on business," she communicated the contents of Mrs. Vincent's ktter to her mother, and informed her of Thorne's de- termination. CHAPTER XII. • Norma was exultant. The thing she had longed, thirsted and well-nigh prayed for, was coming to pass. Thorne would be a free man once more, free to come back to her, free to bring again the old sweetness to her life, free to renew the spring of years ago. Sitting by the libra.ry, fire in the gloaming after her cousm s departure, Norma dreamed dreams and was happy -her eyes softened; and her lips smiled. Then her face darkened slowly, and the hands in her lap clinched themselves. In her fierce joy in the possibility of her reward coming to her at last, was mingled a dread that the cup might be dashed from her lips a second time. During the year which had elapsed since Thorne's return from abroad, Norma had contrived to establish considerable influence over her cousin. She studied him quietly, and adapted herself to his moods, never boring him -with an over -display of inter- est, never chilling him with an absence of it. Her plan was to make herself necessary to him, and in part she succeeded. Thorne, lonely and cut adrift, mine more and. more frequently to his aunt's house and exhibited more and more decidedly his preference for his cousin's society. The thin end of the wedge was in, and but for the move to Vir- ginia, and its ill-starred consequences, the inevitable -result must have followed. She also decided that it would be better to accept Mrs. Vincent's invitation, and re- turn to New York for a while. She knew very well whythe invitation had been given, and saw through the shallow manceuvres to win her acceptance of it. Hugh Castleton, Mrs. Viecent's favorite brother, was in New York again, and she had not aban- doned her old scheme of a match between him and her friend. Norma felt quite competent to foil her friend's plans in the present as she had foiled them in the past, so had no hesitation, on that score, in accepting the invitation. It would be better to be in New York -on the spot, while thismatter shouldbeperiding. Thorne might need advice, certainly avould need sympathy and petting ; hestruirft not, learn to do without her. Evenifliehadonly been amusing himself here, after hiterepre- hensible wont, her presence in Nevi York could do no harm and might be productive of good. CHAPTER XIII. One afternoon, several days after Thorne's departure, Norma donned her warmest wraps and set out for a walk over to Lan- arth. Pocahontas, duly notified of Norma's ap- proach by the vigilant Sammy, met her guest at the door and drew her in with words of welcome and praises of her bravery in venturing abroad in such gloomy weather. The girls did not kiss each other -es is too much the custom with her sex. Pahontas did not like effusive embraces ; a kias with her meant a good deal. When the two girls, in dressitig gowns and slippers, sat over the fire an Pock' hontas' room, brushing out their 'long hair. Norma found the opportunity forewhich she: had lain in wait the entire evening. After some idle conversation . iihe deftly turned the talk upon, New York, and the life there, and rallied all her powers to be picturesque and entertaining. She held her listener entranced with rapid, clever sketches of society and the men and women who composed it, drawing vivid pic- tures of its usages, beliefs, and modes of thought and expression. Gradually she glided into personalities, giving some of her individual experiences, and sketching in an acquaintance or two, with brilliant, caustic touches. • Soon Thorne's name ap- peared, and she noticed that the listener's interest deepened. She spoke of him in warfie terms of admiration -dwelt on his intellect, his talents and the bright pronlise of his manhood ; and then, observing that. the brush had ceased its regular passes over the bright brown e hair, and that the gray eyes were on rho fire, without pause or yearning she spoke of his hurried courtship and sudden marriage; She winced involuntarily as She saw 'tete cold, gray pallor creep slowly ever the girl's faee, and noted the sudden tremortha,tpassed through her limbs; but she steeled herself ki.ainst compassion, and proceeded with her brush- ing and her narrative like One delioid of sight and understanding. • "1 can not expect you, who know Nesbit so slightly, to be much interested in all this,' • she said, watehitig: Pocahontas through her lashee ; "1 fear I only bore you with my story, but my mind has been so exercised over the poor fellosv troubles again lately, that t must unburden it to some one. You have no personal in terest in the matter, therefore you will for- give my treeemeeing on youe courtesy- t eepecially when I tell you Ulm. I've no one t at home to talk to. Nesbit. 'wishes partieu- larly that his story ehouldn't get abroad liere, and if I should revive it in Blancheal she might Mention it to others, Mamma would ;lot ; but uufortunetely mamma and 1rarely look at a thing from the %sine standpoint. It'e been a relief to epeak to you -far greater than speaking to Blanche. "Blanche ia so excitable." Yes ; Blanche was excitable, Pocahontas assentedatbsently ; she was bracing her will, and steeling her nerves to endure leithout flinching: Not for worlds would she -even by the quiverbag of an eyelaeh--let Norma see the torture she was inflicting. She felt that Norma had an object iu this dieglesure, and wae dimly sure that tbe object was hostile., She would think it all out later ; at present Norma must not see her anguish. A woman would sooner go to the stake and burn slowly, than allow another woman, who is trying to hurt her, to know that she suf- fers. Norma continued, speaking gently with- out haste or emotion, telling of the feverish brightness of thee° early days of marriage, and of the clouds that soon obscured the suushine-telling of the ennui and unhappi- ness, gradually sprouting and ripening in the ill-assorted union -shielding the man, as women will, and casting the blame on the woman. Finally rshe told of the separation, lasting now two years, and of the letter from his wife which had caused Thorne's precipi- • tate departure the day after the Shirley ball. But of the divorce now pending she said never a word. "Have they any children 1" questioned Pocahontas steadily. And was told that there was one -a little son, to whom the father was attached, and the mother indifferent. It was a strange case. Again Pocahontas assented. Her voice was cold and even; its tones lowand slighty wearied. To herself it appeared as though she spoke from a great distance and. was compelled to use exertion to make herself heard. She was conscious of two distinct personalities -one prostrate in the dust, humiliated, rent and bleed- ing, and another which held a screen pitifully • before the broken thing, and shielded it from observation. When Norma bid her Reed night she re- sponded quietly, and rising accompanied her guest to her room to see that every arrangement was perfect for her coinfort. Far into the night she sat beside her dying fire trying to collect her faculties, and realize the extent of the calamity which had befallen her. The first, and for the time, dominant emotion was a stinging sense of shame, an agony of rage and humiliation which tmgled hotly through her, and caused her cheek to flame and herbody to writhe as from the lash of a whip. She had been degraded ; an insult had been put upon her. Her eyes blazed, and her hands clinched. Oh, for strength to hurl the in- sult back -for a man's arm and a man's power to avenge the foul affront ! He -a married man -to come, concealing his bonds, and playing the part of a lover free to woo -free to approach a woman and to win her heart The proud head bent to meet the handsupraised to cover the pale, drawn face. She loved him and he was un worthy. He had deceived and lied to her if not in words, then inactions; knowinghim- self boundtoanotherwoman, he had deliber- ately sought her out and made her love him. It was cruel, cruel. All along she had played virgin gold against base metal, and now she was bankrupt. As she raised herself up, her eyes fell on the little box lying on her desk in which she had placed the fragments of the cup they had broken between them -the cup that her old play -fellow had used on thatkest even- ing. With the impulse of habit and asso- ciation, her mind turned wear*" to Jim. He was so true; he had never failed her. Had he suffered as she was suffering! Poor Jim! Was this ceaseless, gnawing agony that had usurped her life no stranger tohis ? If so -God pity him 1 -and her 1 CHAPTER XIV. On the way up from Virginia, Nesbit i Thorne ran over n his .mind the possibili- ties opened by this new move of his wife's, and on the whole he was satisfied. The divorce had become as much an object with him as with her, and if, she had remained quiescent in the matter, he must have moved. He was glad to have been spared this -very glad that -the initial steps had been of her taking. It put him in a good position with himself. The manes of his mother's scruples would be satisfied, and would never cause him discomfort since the fault did not rest with him. And then the boy -never could his son cast word or thought of blame to the father. who had be- haved so well.; who had given every chance, foregone every advantage; acted not oily the part of a gentleman, but of a generous, leng-siiffering man. Thornelelt a glow of satisfaction in the knowledge that in years to come his son would think well ,of him. But this supposition of Norma's in regard to a Second marriage put the whole matter in a. new light in regard to the child. If such a change should be in contemplation, other arrangements must be made about the boy; he could no longer remain in the custody of his mother. His son could not remain under the roof of his wife's second husband. during his own lifetime. The line must be drawn somewhere. It did not occur to Thorne that his wife with equal justice might raise similar objections. • He determined to see Ethel at once and discover whether or not there was truth. in the reports that had reached 'him anent Cecil Cumberland. If there should be, he would bring suck pressure as lay in his power to bear on her,. in •order to obtain immediate possession of the boy. The child was still so young that the law gave the mother rights which could only be set aside at the expense of a disagreeable suit • but Thorne thought he could manage Ethel in such a way as tomake her voluntarily surrender her rights. He knew that her affection for the child was neither deep nor strong. He ascended the steps of his own house and rang the bell sharply. It was answered by a strange servant who regarded him with intereat ; evidently a gentleman caller at that hour of the morning. was unusual. Was Mrs. Thorne at home? The man would inquire. Would the gentleman walk in. What name should he say? Mr. Thorne -and his business was presehig ; he must see her at once. The man opened the door of the back parlor and stood aside to let Mr. Thome pass ; then he closed it noiselessly and proceeded up -stairs to inform his mistress. Thorne glenced !wound the room curi- ously ; it Wile two years since he had seen it. On the marble hearth Inirtied a bright wood - fire, and the dancing flames reflected them- selves in the 'burnished brasses. The tiles around the areplece were souvenirof his wedding, hand.painted by the , bevy of bridesmaids to please a fancy of Ethel's. Nornmee was in the centre -the place of honor. It 11,85 a straaige thing that Norma had selected to paint; heavy sprays of mingled nightshade and monkshood on a geound the color of a fading leaf; but, Strange as it was, it was the most beautiful of them all. There want floweetvin the room and the perfume of heliotrope and tom filled the air. The piano Was open arid on it one of he popular eohge f the day ; a loud, garish lung. ' Ethel liked what eke called "bright mosic," on the keys lay a tumbled hoe • handkerchief, and on the floor, close to the pedal of the ineertimene, was a men's driv- ing glove, Over the piano hung the portrait of a laxly with soft, gray hair, and the expressien of verity and love which medieval. painters give to their saints. It was a pasture of Thorne's nether and it hurt him to see it there. He determined to have it removed as soon as possible. The door opened kind Mrs. Thorne en- tered, feeling herself terribly ill-used anti persecuted, in that ber husband had elee,ted to come to her in person, instead of avail- ing himself of the simpler and more agree- ble mode of communication through their leavers. It was quite possible that he would make himself disagreeable. Mrs. Thorne shrank from anytlang disagreeable, and had no tolerance for sarcasms addressed to herself. She would have refused the interview had she dared, but in her heart she was dimly afraid of her husband. Thorne bowed coldly, and then placed a chair for her on the hearth -rug. down," he said, "1 want to talk to you," and then he seated himself opposite her. For a while he did not speak; somehow the words he had come to say stuck in his throat; it was so cold-blooded for them, husband and wife, to sit there beside their own hearth and discuss their final separa- tion. A log, which had burned in half, fell and rolled forward on the inarble hearth, sending little puffs of gray smoke into the room. He reached past her for the tongs and laid the log backin its place, • and the little action seemed to seal his lips more closely. The tiny- clock on the carved oak mantle chimed the hour in soft, low tones; he counted the strokes as they fell, one, two and so on up to twelve. The winter sunshine streamed in between the parting of the curtains and made a glory of his wife's golden hair, Ethel was the first to speak. You got my letter ?" she questioned, keeping her eyes fixed on the fire. • Yes ; that is the reason I'm here. The broken log was blazing again quits merrily, the two ends far apart. "Whynothavewrittenbastead of coming ?" she demanded, as one who protested agaanst some grievous injury • "it would have been far pleasanter for both. There's no sense in our harassing ourselves with personal inter- views." "1 preferred a personal interview." Ethel lapsed into silence ; the man was a hopeless brute, and it was useless to expect courtesy from him. She tapped her foot against the fender, and a look of obstinacy and temper disfigured the soft outlines of her face. The silence might remain un- broken until the crack of doom for. any further effort she would make. Thorne broke it himself. He was de- termined to carry his point, and in order to do so strove to establish ascendency over his wife from the start. "What's the meaning of this new move, Ethel ?" he demanded, authoritatively. " want to understand the matter thoroughly. Why do you want a divorce ?" Mrs. Thorne turned her face toward .him defiantly. "Because I'm tired of my present life, and I want to change it. I'm sick of being pointed at, and whispered about, as a de- serted wife -a woman whose husband never comes near her." "Whose fault is that ?" he retorted sharply; "this separation is none of my doing, and you know it. Bad as things had become, . I was willing to worry along for the sake ofrespectability and the child; but you wouldn't have it so. You insisted on my leaving you -said the very sight of me made your chains more intolerable. Had I been a viper,you could scarcely have signi- fied rain. desire for my absence- in More un- measured terms." "I know I desired the separation," Mrs. Thorne replied camly, "I de- sire it still. My life with you was miserable, and my wish to live apart has only increased in intensity. ,You never understood me." Thorne might have retorted that the mis- understanding had been mutual, and also that all the wretchedness had not fallen to her share; but he would not stoop to re- proaches and vituperation. It was a natural peculiarity of her shallow nature to demand exhaustive comprehension for quite com- monplace emotions. "It's useless debating the past, Ethel. We've both been too much to blame to afford the • lustily of stone - throwing. What we, must consider now is the future. Is your mind quite made up ? Are..you determined on the divorce?" "Quite determined. I've given the matter careful consideration, and am con- vinced that entire separation, legal as well as nominal,- is absolutelY necessary to my happiness." "And your reasons?" "Haven't I told you Nesbit?" using his nanie, for the first you, in her anger, "Why de you insist on my repeating the same thing over and over, eternally? I'm sick of my life, and want to change it." "But how ?" he persisted. " Your' lite will be the same as now, and your position not so assured. The alimony allowed. by law won't anything like &over your present expenditures, and you can hardly expect me to be more generous than the law compele. The divorce can make little difference, save to diminish your income and deprive you of the protection of my name. You not care to marry again, and the divorce will be a restricted one." Thorne was forcing his adversary's hand. "Why will it, be restricted?" she de- manded, her color' and her temper rising. " It shall not be restricted or hampered in • any way, I tell you, Nesbit Thorne! Am I to be fettered and 'bound and trammeled by you forever? I Will not be. The &voice shall give me unlimited power to do what .1 please with my life. It shall make me as free as air -as free as I wasbefore I married you." "Von would not wish to marry again?" he repeated. "Why not ?" rising to her feet and con- fronting him in angry excitement. "Because, in that case, you would lose your child. I neither could nor would per- mit my son to be brought up in the house of a man who stood to him in the relationship you propose." "Von cannot take him from me," Mrs. Thorne retorted in defiant contradiction • her ideas of the power of nien and lawyers hopelessly vague and bewildered. No court on earth would take so small a child from his mother." "Ali ! you propose having the case come into court then? 1 misunderstood you. I thought you wished the affair managed quietly, to avoid publicity and comment. Of course, if the case comes into court, shall contest it, and try to , obtain possession of the boy, even for the time the law allowe the mother, on the ground of being better able to supportsand educate him." "1 do not want the case to come ' into court here, Nesbit, and you know that I do not I Why do you delight in torment- ing me?" , " Listen to me, Ethel. I've no wish to torment you. I simply wished to show you thet I 'would abide by my rights, and that I have Slane power -all the power whieh Meng cart give--oit my side. (Mr , nierri ge has been a miserable mis- takc from the flied ; we rushee into it with- out knowledge ,of each other's charaeters and dispositions, and, like mot con1440 who take matrimony like A five -barred gate, we've come horribly te grief. I shall not stand in your way ; E you wish to go, I obeli not hinder you. WS ee what I propose : I'll help you irk the Matter, Will take all the trouble, make the arrangements, bear all the expense. It will he necessary for one of us to go to Illinois, and see these lawyers, if the divorce is to be gotten there. it may be necessary to undergo a short residence in the State in order to simulate citizen- ship and make the divorce legal. I'll find out about this, and if it's necessary I will do it. After the divorce I'll allow you the use of this lions% and a sufficient income to sepport it ; and also the custody of our son as long as you re- main unmarried. In return you must waive all right to the boy for die years you can legally claim him and must bind your- self to surrender hiin to me, or any person I appoint, at least a month before any such marriage'and never, by word or act, to interferein his future life, or any disposi- tion I may think hest to make of him. I should also strongly object to any future marriage taking place from my house, and should expect legal notice in ample time to make arrangements about the boy." "Would you allow me to see the child whenever I wished ?" "Certainly. I'm no blade, and you are his mother. I shall only stipulate that the meetings take place in. some other house than yours. You are at liberty to visit him as often as you like, so long as you are faithful to our agreement and leave his mind unbiased. 1 will never mention pm unkindly to him, and shall expect the thane consideration from you. When he is old enough to judge between us, he will decide as he thinks right." "Suppose you marry again, yourself. What a.bout the child then? You are very hard and unoomproraising in your dictation to me, Nesbit, but I can have feelings and as well as you." Thorne was startled. He considered that he was behaving well to his wife. He wanted to behave well to her ; to let the past go generously, so that no shadow or reproach from it might fall upon the future. Her tart suggestion sot the affair in a new light. It was an unpleasant light, and he turned his back on it. thinking that by BO doing he disposed of it. There was the distance of the twb poles between Pocain °Ulna Mason and Cecil Cumberland. He surely was the best judge of what would conduce to the welfare of his son. "We were discussing the, probability of your re -marriage, not mine, ' he responded coldly ; "the reports in circulation have reached even me at last." "What reports 7" with defiant inquiry. "That you are seeking freedom from your allegiance to one man, in order to swear fealty to another. That your vows • to me are irksome because they prevent you taking other vows to Cecil Cumberland. I pass over the moral aspect of the affair; that must rest with your own conscience," (it is astonishing how exemplary Thorne felt in administering the rebuke) ; "that rests with your conscience," he apeitted, "and with that I've nothing to db. The existence of such reports - which lays your conduct as a married woman open to censure -gives me the right to dictate the terms of our legal sepa,m- don. I'm obliged to speak plainly, Ethel. You brought about the issue, and must abide by the consequences. I've stated my terms, and it's for you to accept or decline thsehm(.3 "signified her acceptance of his pro- posal in a few brusque, ungracious words, for she considered it due to her dignity to be disagreeable, in that she was acceding to terms, not dictating them. CHAPTER XV. Thorne had even less difficulty with his legal arrangements than he had anticipated. Be had hitherto relegated the subject of divorce to the limbo of things as little thought and spoken of as possible by well- bred people. He knew nothing of the modus operandi, and was surprised at the ease and celerity with which the legal ma- • chine moved. • Thorne walked in the direction of his hotel in a state of preoccupation. He was sore and irritated; he disliked it all in- tensely; it jarred upon him and offended his taste. Over and over he cursed it all for a damnable business from beginning to end. He was perfectly aware, reasoning from cause to effect, that the situation was, in some sort, his own fault; but that was a poor consolation. That side of the ques- tion did not readily present itself; his horizon was occupied by the nearer and more personal view, He loathed it all, and was genuinely sorry for himself and con- scious that fate was dealing hardly by him. ,As he turned a corner, he ran against a tall, handsome young lady, who put out her hand and caught his arm to steady herself, laughing gayly: "Take care, Nesbit 1" .she exclaimed, "you nearly knocked me down. Since when have you taken to emulating Mrs. Wilfer's father, and felling ' your relatives to the earth ?" "Why, Norma 1 is it really you ?" he questioned, refusing to admit the evidence of sight and touch unfortified by hearing. She cheered Thorne wonderfully, for she scented to bring Virginia and the life of the last few months nearer to him -the peaceful life in which new hopes had budded, in which he had met, and known, and loved Pocatontas. Norma did him good, raised his spirits, and made the future look bright and cheerful; but not in the way She hoped and intended. She had come North with the hope of further- ing her own plans,'of making herself neces- saryand agreeable, of keeping the old days fresh in his memory. And she was necessary tohim, as a trusted comrade who had never failed him ; a clever adviser in whose judgment he had confidence; charmiug friend who was fond of him, and who had, but now, come from the enchanted land where his love dwelt. Of her plans he knew nothing, suspected nothing; and the days she brought fresh to his thoughts were days hi which she had no part. a little while he went West, and there was a period of uneventful waiting, after which Norma received a Western paper containing a short arid unobstrusive notice of the granting of a divorce to Nesbit Thorne from Ethel, his wife. She bore it away to' her room and gloated over it greedily. Then she took her pen and ran it around the hotice, marking it heavily; this done, she folded, ,sealed and directed it in a clear, bold hand -General Percival Smith, Wintergreen Co, Virginia. It would save elaborate explanations. • CHAPTER XVI. Spring opened very late that year in Vir- ginia -slowly and regretfully, as though forced into doing the world a favor against its will, and determined to be as grudging and dienreeahle over it as possible. The weather was celd, wet and unwholesome,- eulkiug arid storMing alternately, and there woe; n le Ch. Sickne§s in the Lan arth and. Shirley mighborhood. The Christmas had beert green one -only one small spurt ef snow on . Christmas Eve, which vanished With the morning, The negroes were full of gloomy mognoetications itt consegtience, and shook thetr heads, and east ahroad, with unction, I all writ of growsome prophecies anent the fattening of t1i church -yard. All through the winter; Mrs. Mason had been ailing, and about the beginning of March she succumbed to dinmtic influ- ences, backed by hereditary tendency, and took to her bed with a severe attack of inflammatory rheumatism. Pocahontas had her hands full with household euro Skud. nursing, and -perhaps it was as well, for it drove self into the baelsground of her 'Wad, for a part of the time at least, and filled with anxiety the empty days. Grace, living five iniles away and loaded down with family cares and duties of her own, could be of little practical assistance. When at length the news of Thorneer divorce reached them, she warded off with tender consideration all remark or comment likely to hurt the girl, and gave straight- forward, hot-tempered Berkeley a hint which effectually silenced him. In sooth,, the honest fellow had small liking for the subject. He bitterly resented what he con- sidered Thorne's culpable concealment of the fact of his marriage. He remembered the night of the ball at Shirley, and the memory rankled. It did not occur to hint that the matter having remained a secret might have been the natural result of an unfortunate combination of eireUnt- Stanees, and.in no sort the consequence of calculation or dishonor on Thorne's part. Neither did it occur to hire, large -minded man though he was, to try to put himself in Thorne's place and so gain a larger in. - sight into the affair, and the possibility of arriving at a fairer judgment. BerkeLey's interest in the matter was too personal to admit of dispassionate analysis, or any im- pulse toward mercy, or even justice. His anger burned hotly against Thorne, and! when the thought of him rose in his mind. it wasaccompanied by other thoughts which it is best not to put into words. During Mrs. Mason' e illness,little Blanche WaS unremitting in her attentions, coming over daily with delicacies of her own con- coction, and strivhag to help her friend/ with a sweet, unobtrusive kindness which won hearty response from both ladies, and! caused them to view Berkeley's increasing attentions to the little maid with pleasure.. They even aided the small idyl by every Leavitt' means, having the girl with theia as often as they could and praising her judici- ously. With her winsome'childish ways and impuhiveness, Blanche formedi a marked contrast to grave, re- served Berkeley Mason, and was perhaps better suited to him on that account. Whea their engagement was announced, there was no lack of congratulation and satisfaction in: both families. The general, as he gave his hearty approbation to her choice, pinched her earsand asked what had become of her objections to Virginia; and Percival tor- mented her unceasingly, twitting her with her former wails of lamentation. Blanche. did not care. She took their teasing ira good part, and retorted with metry words and smiles and blushes. She had made her journey to the unknown, and returned with treasure. Mrs. Smith, in her chamber, smiled softly, and thought on muslin and laceand wedding favors. (To be continued.) An Example for Willlatn. Buffalo News: The Queen Regent of the Netherlands and her daughter d.eclined the offer of a public reception during their recent visit to Amsterdam. They requesteti the city officials to use the money collestatil for the reception in feeding the poor. Com - sequently more than 30,000 poverty- stricken creatures received presents of food and money and 35,000 school children. were provided with a breakfast. Lady ltfacclonald as an Author. Just before her bereavement Lady Mao- donald, widow of the late Sir John Mac- donald, completed her first ambitious literary effort m a series of articles for the Ladies' Home Journal, the first one of which will appear in the August number of that periodical. Last summer Lady Mac- donald, with a party of friends, travelled in her private car through the most pictur- esque parts of Canada, and in a delightfully fresh manner she describes her experiences on this trip in these articles, to which she has given the title of "An Unconventional Holiday." A series of beautiful illustra- tions, furnished by Lady Macdonald, wilt accompany the articles. A Little Fatherly Advice. "If ever you marry," said an o/d gentle- man to his son, "let it be a woman who has judgment enough to superintendthe getting of a meal, taste enough to dress hetseIf„ pride enough to wash her face, and sense enough to use Dr. Pierce's -Favorite Pres- cription, whenever she needs it." The ex- perience of the aged has shown the "Favor- ite Prescription" to be the best for the care • of all female weaknesses and derangements. Good sense is shown by getting the remedy from your druggist, and using it whenever you feel weak and debilitated. It will in- vigorate and cannot possibly do harm. No flowering plant has been discovered within the Anarctic Circle; within the Arctic Circle 762 different species have been classified. Mayor Holmes of Kansas City, has been formally censured by resolutions of the barbers for having been shaved in a shop oia Sunday. -The friendship of the bad is like the shadow of an overhanging bank, ready, to crush him who sits beneath. ameareneeseresse _animaneeisanasferaseeevaitaaeit ermart Syrup Here is an incident from the Smart —Mississippi, written in April, r8go, just after the Grippe had visited that country. "1 am a farmer, one of those who haye to rise early and work late. At the beginning of last Winter I was on a trip to the City of Vicksburg, Miss. ,where I got well drenched in a shower of rain. I went home and was soon afterseized with a dry, hacking cough. This grew worse every day, until I had to seek relief. I consulted Dr. Dixon who has since died, and he told me to get a bottle of Boschee's German Syrup. Meantime my cough grew worse and worse and then the Grippe came along and I caught that also very severely. My condition then compelled me to do something. got two bottlesof German Syrup. began using them, and before taking much of the second bottle, I was entirely clear of the Cough that had hung to me so long, the Grippe, and all its bad effects. I felt tip-top and have felt ',that way ever since." l'E1/41tJ,BRIALs, Jr., Cayuga, Eines CO.. M4ss.