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The Exeter Times, 1884-8-21, Page 2• LOST BY MAY MOBS RUINING, £V HOB or .`iiient mid 2rua*" " NNor, riaye," One 1,right's Mystery," &o., x&c, PART L In mine ayes she is the sweetest lady that I ever looked on." MUCE ADO Alaona sornise- kept it more rigidly, The two actresses study their part ,; Miss Valentine studies them through her spectacles vldth a severe east of countenance, She dis- approves of theta both. The May sun is sottiug as they drive up the noble avenue that leads to the Hall, the dressing -bell is clanging out. and young Squire Broughton, flushed and eager, runs down the steps to meet and greet them. trio blushes with de-' light as he gives his hand to his eneban- I tress. 10. I have been on the lookout for the past hour," he says. :0.A little more, Lady Valentine, and I would have *Haunted why dapple gray and ridden forth in aearoolh of you. But what is tie matter x ea are not all,1 hope? You arc. as pale -, Oh, no ! I am quite well," Her tone is as listless as her look, her smile so flitting, her manner so utterly with- out its customary youthful brightness, that the lad looks at .her in real con. cern, I am afraid you are not. You do not look at ail well --I mean, not like vour•,elf. Perhaps, though, you are only tired after the drive," •' tit bat is that ?" asked Mrs. Brough- ton, coming forward, " somebody ill? Not Lady Valentine, surely ! Why, this will never do—our Pauline as pale as a ghost ! What is it ? The drive ! Non- sense, fifty miles would not blanch Lady Valentiue s roses. Surely you are not such a foolish child as to let Sir Vane's abseuce prey upon your spirits?" Mise Routh, aweeping down the wide oakou hall, laughs softly her filvery tiukle. "' That is it, dear Mfrs. Brough - tont ]< did not like to betray trust, but your Sharp eyes have found it out. Coni,ider, a bride of little more than half a year ; and this is the first separ- ation." The blue-green eves glanced back- ward over her eboulaer,'as she turned to ascend the stairs. " Cheer up, Dolores, elterie. You look as dismal as your name, What will your adoring Claude say presently, if he finds his' radiant Pauline all in the downs? For his sake, if not for yours, forget the ak,cnt lover for the present." Dolores looks up at her .blue eyes ; and green meet, in one long. level, defiant gaze—the gaze of two swords. men on, guard. "" You are right," she says. " You are always ri„rit, Camilla. I will take you at your word," She does. By a great effort she throws off her languor, her gloom, and. my herself es t~i self upto the spirit of the hour. This is ntime for memory, no place for cruelly stung and spurred hearts. Eat, drink, and be merry. " Gather ye roses while ye may.'' . Vane Valentine is out of her sight, she will shut him out of her thoughts as well. laaeilia est descensus Arena—this poor Dolores can go the pace as rapidly as the rest. Presently life and color return to her, the flush of excitement to her .cheeks, its fire to her eyes—the last trace of bitterness is gone. " That is right," says Harry Brough- ton, in an approving whisper. "I knew you would be in first-rate form when the time came. Gad, I wish I was to be Claude instead of that lucky beggar, Deering." " That . lucky beggar does not look particularly jubilant at this moment," retorts Lady Valentine, Iaughing. " That is because he is half a hundred whiles from you, at the other end of the table, with onlyMiss Routh—the ll'idow Melnotte—his mother, by Jove !" with a grin. "Filial affection ought to suffice. He can't expect to monopolize you.all the evening, even if he is to marry you presently. Miss Routh is smiling at him like an angel, and still he doesn't look grateful. He locks bored. He really hadn't ought to, as our transat- lantic cousins have it." "" I am a transatlantic cousin, Mr. Broughton, if you please. Be careful." "" By Jove l so you are. Butthen you are a Canadian, aren't you 2" looking puzzled. " Do you know, I never got it straight somehow. And it is a matter about which I don't like to be muddied." " Naturally 1" laughing. "" It is a matter of moment. "" But which are you ? Yankee, Can- adian, French—which ?" - " I don't know," still laughing.. "" I pet muddled myself when I try to make it out. A little of all three, I think, with a sprinkling of English extractions thrown in. See Miss Valentine watch- ing us—we really hadn't ought to, Harry. Miss Valentine disapproves of laughter, and we are laughing shame- fully—I am sure I do not know at what —and we are shocl;ing;her to the deep- est depths of her being." Squire Broughton makes a feeble effort to adjust a glass to one eye, and stares across at the stern virgin down the table. " Rum old girl," he'thinks, for in his inner conscience this youthful heir is slangy. " I wonder what it feels like to be a venerable fossil like that, and ugly enough to be set up in a corn- field. What business , has she with a moustache when other fellows can't raise a hair ! Should think you would find it rather—aw-flattening," ho says, aloud, looking with compassion at his fair friond,:ff to see much of that lady. Elderly paellas° Of that. stripe prey on my spirits, I know. But then, of course, you have always Miss Routh." " I have always Routh," assents L , i Val 1 • d the smile that goes wh! the . y a zzles the simple brain of . ung• ligough.ton.: "Au eeveir, Harry; Yoe* mamuha gives the singe!. Don't. staff long,"' she whispers, coquettishly; as she rises to go. There 1a, no time fors staying—the gentlemen speedily follow. the ladies, and the stage is cleared for action A last hurried rehearsal is gabbled. through, while. the •gue• gather thexe.is nQ #,ime for anythi. g • but the play. Everybody runs about, chatter. ing their speee es frantically, with little books iu their hands, The roll of carriages ala almost continuous now; there will barely be time to dress before the hour, A very large gathering are coming; every seat in the amateur theatre promises to be full. The re- hearsal ends; there is a long interval during which the audience talk and lauvil, and flutter into their seats, and read their bills- haps languidly wave, jewels brilliantly dash, music tills the air. The orchestra, at least, is all it should be; it remains to be seen whe- ther the amateurs are. The hour strikes, the bell tinkles, the drop•scene goes up, the play begins. All the world Ituows What the "Lady of Lyons " performed by amateur actors and actresses, is bee. Youug ladies and gentlemen, stricken dumb with stage fright at the sight of all those watchful eyes, losing every atom of memory at the sound of then own vaicea; arms and legs horribly is their owners' way. ; quivering voices that refuse to be heard beyond ties lrst row of seats. The prompter and Colette!. Deering are the two most audible luau in the troupe, For the ladies—Pauline docs fairly well, speaks her words audibly, lets Claude make love to her as though slip were quite: used to it, and dees not seem to fine her hands and arms an Mauna - Prance. it is not her first appearance, it will be remembered; the recollection of that last time, when she wore the dress of "" La Reins( Blanche," and Rene and grandinamma sat anti watched, risen before her with a cruel pang more than once. But it will not do to think of old times or old friends to -night; the present is all alae can attend to. She is received and rewarded with great ap- plause, many bouquets, and much soft clapping of gloved bands. On the whole the Pauline and Claude of the evening are a auoceas, and the leaven, that lightens the whole play, "But for Lady Valentine and Colonel Deering it would be a, signal failure," is the universal verdict, "And a hand- some pair, are they not? Colonel Doeriug speaks and looks his part to the life. One would think he meant it every word." " Perhaps he does,'' is the significant answer. " Deering has been hard hit for some time and makes no s^eret of it. Watch him when the daueing begins, and yon will see.' But there is not much to see. Lady Valentine does a few duty dances, one with "" Claude ltleluotte," of course, but no more. She pleads a headache,. tits out to the unutterable chagrin of ;it ' least half a score of soup/rents. Colonel 1 Deering follows her lead, and dances as little as possible also. He keeps near 1 but , her, not athome o o tJ admirers"i written legibly in my lady's eyes to- night. o night. She keeps close to Miss Velem. J tine—and the luau who can snake love within ear -shot of the austere Dorothy would be something more than man. It is all over at last, and she can go up to hor room, trailing the white silk bravery of Madame Colonel Melnotte after her. Perhaps she is losing her zest for these things—or is it a presenti- ment of evil t come that weighs upon her to -night ? Next day comes, and brings with it Colonel Deering and sundry of his brother officers. The ladies Valentino were to have depiitted after breakfast, but their host and hostess urged them to remain until after luncheon. Miss Routh yields gracefully, so perforce the others follow; she is over leader in these small social amenities. Dolores does not care. Here, or at Valentine, what does it signify—it is equally tristeevery- where. So they remain until the after- noon, and then, attended by a strong military escort, set out on the return march home. That dull feeling of im- pending evil weighs upon Lady Valen- tine still. She cannot talk, she sits silent, listless, languid, the gay chatter of Miss Routh falling without meaning upon her ears. She hardly cares what. may happen; it seems to her life can be no more bitter, nomorehopelessthan it is. Her heart lies like lead within her—the brief, fictitious sparkle of last night has vanished like the bubbles an champagne. Life stretches out a dreary, stagnant blank once more. She goes up to her room the moment she arrives. Jemima Ann, for a won- der, is not tliereto'meether. " Send my maid, please," she says to one of the housemaids, and,the girl looks at her with almost startled eyes. "" Oh, if you please, my lady, Jemima ain't here !" " Not here ?" pausing . and looking. "What do you mean? Not here Where is she then ?" °" Please, my lady, she's gone away." " Gone away ! Yes, my lady, with Sir Vane. And if you please, my lady, I think she's gone like for good." She has been standing—she suddenly sits down at these words, feeling sick and faint. "" There's a letter for you, my lady," the woman goes on—" there's' two, please, on your dressing -room table. She oried when she was going. away. She went last evening about an hour after you." Without a word,my lady hurries' into the dressing -room. There, on the table, two .letters ' lie—one all blurred and nearly illegible with tears and blots. arid blisters. live that I will love like I do you. Your ever faithful JEHINA ANN." She takes up the second letter.; it is " ii PO ... ,4,7 .,,,_ ,rr will ; ,'b0. ` u iia =re. ` nd T hope you will an- " swer Yue—I cannot go back home with, Place a can top donward on a hot stove until heated, then remove the cover out & word from you. 1 hope you will and smell—AMMOIIl!A. This'the test for ROYAL BAKING POWDER be happy, and not forget your poor Jemima Ann. 1 have plenty of money, ;ItuiRrh,11"11:741.121%E,,ftii," m don't berry about that, Good-by,.my awn besttnd dearest darling, I 14,2 10) .' i S.lattiO0 will not serve any one anaifh as eon as 1 agape "DoLoa>;s: Yon refused° to obey me, and dismiss the woman, Jemire . As I aln determined to be obeyed in all things, great and small, I remove her this evening. Do not attempt to go after her or have her back, You will defy nae in this, or in anything else, at your peril. "Your husband, Vass Va,LssTi,ln." A shadow comes between her and the, sunshine. She looks up from, these Last merciless words, and sees, standing on the threshold, a sneering smile of tri- umph on her face, Camilla Reath, CHAPTER N.KXIV, " NOP THOS IN OTIIER DAYS WE th5T.'" It is four hours later. The down ex. press from London leaves one traveller at the village station, and thunders away into the yellow sunset. A foreign gent, the loungers at the station set him ,gown ; very dark, with a long black moustache, and n, certain undefinable stir of cities and travel about him. Ilia only laggage is a black portmanteau, also of foreign look, and well pasted with labels. He inquires in perfect English, with only the slightest possible foreigu accent, the way to Valentine manor. A barefooted rustic lad, under- takes for sixpence to show hint thither, and afterwards carry his bag to the Batherripe Arms, and together they set out. It was the hour " between the gleam. ing and the mirk," the hour of .4r. bari'a in the fair, far•eff luted wheats tie stranger and pilgrim has come, The fields across which his guide takes him by a short-cut, lie steeped in tints of gold-graylight; overhead there is a gold -gray sky, flecked hero and there with erhmson bars. The sleepy cows lift soft, large eyes, and regard them as they pass. A faint, sweet, warm wind stirs in the treetops, and the dark, watchful eyes of the stranger driuk it all in—the quiet beauty of the twilight landscape. "At tho eventide there shall be light," he dreamily thinks. "Ono might be happy here, if rural peace and loveli- ness were all. T117 pass a last stile, and t}ie youth- ful guide pauses and poiuts to the zig- zag path betweeu the trees. "Keep straight up yon," he says, " t' house is at t'other end." The traveller bands the promised six- pence, and the lad scampers away. The footpath is a contiuuatiou of the shorts. cut across the park, and ends at one of the gnu( it Anne flower gardens. The Manor is in sight now, and lie pauses to look at it, something more than mere curiosity in his gaze. With the full flush of the crimson and gold wast upon it, gilding climbing rose, and trailing ivy, and tall honeysuckle, softening its decay, mellowing its ugly angles, it is a dquaint and picturesque old house in- eed, from an artistic point of view, with its top-heavy chimneys and mil. Boned windows, and antique -timbered porches. Hitherto he has met no one, now the flutter of a lady's dress catches his eye. A robe of soft "hodden gray" color, dear to the artist eye, a touch of deep crimson, a gleam of creamy lace, the sheen of braided yellow hair, a face in profile under a straw hat—that is what he sees. And for a moment the nian'sheart within flim stands still. "Therewith ho raised his eyes, and turned, Ands, "reat fire within him burned, And his 1'heart stopped awhile—for there Against a thorn bush fair His heart's desire his eyes did see." She is seated on a knoll, her head testing against the rough brown boll of a tree, her white hands lying loosely in her lap, without work or book, and so still that at first he thinks she is asleep. But coming closer he sees that she is not ;• the blue eyes are looking with a strange sort of vacancy straight before her, at the red and amber light in tho sky. She does not hear him; he treads lightly, and the elastic fur gives like velvet; she does not see him, she semis bo see nothing, not even the lovely sun- set light on which her blank eyes gaze. He is by her side looking down on her as she sits, his whole passionate hear; in his eyes. " Snowball !" he says. She almost bounds, soft as the sound of his voice is. She springs to her feet, and stands looking at him, her lips apart, her eyes dilated, mute with amaze. " Snowball!" he says, and holds out both hands, " I have startled you. But I hadnothought of coining upon you like this. I was going to the house whenl.chanced to see you here."• Ile stops. She does not answer, does not take the eager hands he holds out ; she only stands and looks, too dazed by the shock of surprise for welcome or foy joy. For Rene, a terrililepang pierces him. Is this Snowball —. bright, ' laughing, radiant Si".uvv ball—so full of impulsive gladness aid hal pyi greeting always this pale, silent, stricken shadow ? • "1 Rene 1" she says, , at last, almost in ;whisper, "Rene!" And . then,, slowly, a ,great gladness fills the blue eyes, and a great w.,elcornp a great joy.- She gives hire tier "liahiad, and tears well up;and fill the blue, 'sad eyes. " Reha 1 °Rene 1" she says, and there is a sob in the voice ; I never thought to see you again." "MY EVER DEAREST, DEAR MISS SNOW- BALL.—pe NOw- BALL: 1 e; says I must go away. ' He says Imust go this very hour, andwith- out bidding good -by to you. I' hope you will be able to read this, but I am so blind with crying I can hardly see to CONTAINS PROF. 1 c SPE .A. c+ Scien#fic.A.1.1.y.:Ptepared" " PUREMATERIALS.' f "Its Lxoef:ence ,. `tr`Not Endangered'' "By Ammonia !" Ufficc oi` Prof. H. W. SCHEMER, ER, Vbelilist. ST., LOUIS, )air muss, finish rara;s--Ali examivatioths whhiclh 1 have niade of DB. PRICES CREAM BAITING POWDER. bare had but one result, to wit ; That it is seientifieally oompouudeo.Irons pure materials, and yields tbo hugest amount of Cai"bonio Acid Gas that can possibly be product - ed by atm!) compounds. It requiree, therefore, NOT ONLY po addition of any ;material like AMMONIA to increase its qualltiee as a Baking Powder. hut suob addition would aotu= ally ENDANGER ITS EXCELLENCE. iiespectfull, ; 1I. W. SCBBFFE1 DE. PRICE'S CREAIYI BAKING POWDER DOES NOT CONTAIN AMMONIA. FIMMTRMITROP in a million homes ,for a quarter of « centu''i it lasx stoo<t test eousunhere" reliable teat, TUE 'ESar r THE OVEN PRICE BAKING POWDER CO., CHICAGO. ST. LOUIS.. He alas ps the ia'ands, wastetl and fragile, and looks at her, and says noth- ing, He thinks of the last time when he came upon her thus suddenly, among the Roman hilltops. How brightly beautiful had been the joyous. young face then 1—how impulsively eager and joyful her greeting then 1—how different from this! Now—he has it in .Iris, heart to invoke a curse on the head of the man who has. °banred her like this ""How white you are1" 'leo says=" Ill, -.e a spirit there in the gloaming, my Snow- ball. You do not look well. Have yen 1 been ill, Carina?" " Ill ? Oh, no," she answers, wearily; "I am nerill ev Do not m' indmy looks. —what do they signify 2—tell me what has brought you to England ?" " Sit down again, then," he says: " You do not look fit to stand." She obeys him, sinking back on the grassy knoll, hardly yet believing the evidence of her ears and eyes. "Rene, Rene—here—how strange 1" What is it?" she asks. "You look as if you had something to say. Why are you in England --at Valentine? It 'seems so strange." " That sounds slightly inhospitable,1 Lady Valentine," smiling. It is an effort to call her by this name her hus- band has given her, but it, helps to keep in his mind what there is some danger (Allis forgetting, looking in the pallid, wistful, too -dear face, but even wlhilelhe says it, he hates it and,liim. " You know what I mean ?" she says, simply. " I am not afraid of being misunderstood by yeti, Rene. You did not come all the way' here simply to see me. You would not have come forthat. It is something else—something;: im- portant. What is it ?" ' . , " Shall I tell you 2" he looks at her anxiously, in doubt. "You do not look well, and' it 'will—it must=shock.yen,. Snowball. Yes—I have- something 'to tell you, something distressing,' and very, very strange. :I' hardly know hew you will believe it—you niay;not—and yet it is true. I have felt it rather, hard, from the first, that I should be the one: chosen to bear•the evil -tidings, but fate has thrust it upon me. It is a; lona story, and I should like to tell yon im- mediately. Are we ;likely to: be dis- turbed here ?" "Not in the leastlikely, NO one ever comes here. ' It is the most `secluded spot in the park. Ichoose it always for that reason. Now what, I• wonder, is this amazing revelation you :have' to male ?" "' It is amazing. It is the story of the dead ` alive. Dolores, listen —,here — George Valentine has risen from his grave 1" What !,• "He never, was drowned, yeti know. It was all a mistake—that ;old story of long ago. 'He was not drowned. He is alive to -day 1" She sits and stares athim, trying to take this in. A flush sweeps over her face. "Rene ! Oh, Rene, think what you say 1 My father--" "And he is not your father -that is where the trouble comes. He left his wife -your mother—within a year of their marriage. For five; years she heard nothing of him—when she did it was what others heard—that he was d7 owned. nit °"elle "married again.; toui',parents are both dead, as you 'always,`until of late years, thought, but ` George Valen- tine lives. You are no kin of his—no Health is 'Wealth. Dhe,t: 0.'Wanes Hamm AND BRAIN TREAT stabs, a guarantood a} eoifa'f°r Itvatoria, Dir cinesa,0oiyvnlsioua, S'itfr, Pier�ousNouralgia, ileadacho,Norvnus Prostration caused by the use of alcohol or tobacco, Wakefulness, Mental 1)o ra p c aion,Softouin of the brain, resultingin Ifhan ' g insanity and s r leading � to Bribery, y gg decay and death, Primature OSiAge, l3arronnese, Loss of Power in eithet sex„Involuntary Losses Bud Spermatorrhoea, caasedby over-exertion of the brain, self-abuse and, over-iudulgonee, Ono bon will cure recent eases. Each 'hoz oontainti one month'streatmeut,. Ono dollar a box, or six boxes/or five dollars;, sent by snail prepAid on hooeipt of prism. Wo guarantee six boxes to sure any cafe. With each order received for six boxes, accompanied with five dollars, we will send the purchaser our written guarantee. to refund the money if the treatment does no affect a euro. Guarantees issued only by .i.Wt BROWNING, Solo a"ontfor liixeter.Ontario A MARVELOUS STORY TOLD IN TWO LET ZBS. FROM THE SON: "Pore 28;>� " Gentten,ep: iffy father resides at Glover, Ft. Me has been a great sufferer from Scrof ula, and the inclosed letter will toll yonwbat &marvelous effect. Ayer's Sarsaparilla has had in his ease. I think his blood must .have contained the humor for at toast ten years ;; but it did not show, except in the form of a scrofulous sore on the wrist, until about ;ave: years ago. h'rom a few spots which ap- peared at that time, it gradually spread ao as to eoverhia entire body. I assure yon he was 'terribly *Mated, and an abject of pity, when he1<+egas,using your medicine. Now, there aro few men of hla age who enjoy as good health as Ifo has. I could easily name fifty persons who would testify to the facts labia case. 7iouratruly, W. M. Pitmans.” FROM i ins." ROI THE FATHER: both"It :a duty for sae to state to you the benefit I hdv0 derived from the use of Ayers Sarsaparilla. Mammies ag•dxwas completely covered with a terribie'hihnaor'and scrofulous sores. The 'hh,umor'eaused an incessant and intolerable land the skin cracked so as to pause the blood to flow in many places whenever I moved. My sufferings were great, and my life a burden. 1 commenced the use of the SARSAPARILLA In April iast, and have used it regularly since that time. My condition bogan to improve at oneo. The sores have All healed. and I fuel perfectly well in every • ;•"+motif hehrir, now "',lo to do a good day's ill,,, n cf age. hilus; tt, iuire v.h.," a :vie/10E; eueli a cmc in niy u.•.,, and I r . 47 , s l hay, Liao tried to tell You, A c'a Yjn,•o.:h« utir..n. Glover, Vt., Oct. 1311 grat_iully, Kiran r lar tart.' • Ares sassy lanes. Cures - Scrofula Arid all ,rvs ,.r.,us Complaints, L •yelp, elan, d. ,.,fieI,i:"s:,;srorm, L1t C':hee, Sores, L"oilo, fiuniore,'iind Est pUona of the 'Kiln:. It' clears'•the blood 'of all. impu- rities, aids digeztion, stimulates the action of the' bowels, and , t'aus :restoree; vitality and 'Itrongthena the whole system. PREPARED ET'. Dr.J.C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. TO HE EVED void by all Druggiatil; S1, six bottles for 11l. R'