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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1892-2-11, Page 2A BillITONE'S DEVOTION ; Olt A TALE OF SUNNY ITALY. tell you," urged the old man, "that Italian opera ia dying -dying for want of flb expenenta. There is scarcely o men Whom care cares to listen to, arid ib will never be kept elive by two or three prime donne. You might revive it, and yes you hesitate. Corp° di Recce L it that you ere alumnae of your gifts? Is it that your very modesty is to prove the bane of your life and the destruction of my hopes? Lis- ten to ine-it is the plain truth I am telling you, and you well know 1 never flattop. For years upon years Italy has produced no grab tenor, or baritone, or bass; now she has produced you; and, if you work welt, you will be the first singer in Europe. Italy has produced you, and then you persist in biding your light under a bushel ! Diavolo tie enough to try ;the patience of a saint!" "Dear maestro, ' said Carlo, with a faint smile, "what can I do more than promise to consider this offer? Row can you ea - pest la° to deoide all in n moment Ah ?" -s. quick sigh escaped hiin-"Do you not see want it will involve?" " \Vhist it will involve? Why, yes ; understand that it might postpone your marriage for a time. Art demands some sacrifice.s." _ "And what dealt have I to sacrifice Franeosca's happiness? To a duty perhaps even that might be right, but to a dream of fame -never ! " He laughed ' • the idea, when put into words, seemed tohim so pre- posterous. " Happiness be damned !" cried Plate, with righteous indignation. "I have yet to learn that Italy produced you, and England produced MSS Britton, that you might be happy.. And do I not know Vries Britton? Ca.0 1 zor one moment dream that she would wish to hold you back? Why, by all saints, no My dear bey, you are young - i young. Believe me, a girl s always willing to wait when the good of her lover is in question. As to Captain Britton, he can't have lived all these years in Italy and yet retain his Puritan notions in all their strict- ness. He may object at first, but, hearing all the circumstances of the case, he will soon give way. Courage, Carlo mile For a great gain, a momentary sacrifice!" Perhaps it was the word "momentary" which showed Carlo plainly what he had be- fore felt dimly, that Piste knew nothing whatever about the saorifiee in question. Much as he loved the old man, he could bear his presence no longer, but hastily took leave with a few incoherent words about " time," and "thinking it over." He fled from the old singing -master as those in trou- ble or perplexity always do flee from glib talk. It is the one intolerable thing, as exasperating to the nineteenth-century man as the glib talk of Bliphaz, Bildad and &plies was to poor job. " Momentary, indeed! A momentary sacrifice !" The idea made him indignant and yet pitifuL Had Piste lost his man- hood in his art -life? Had he so little con- ception of what it woo to love that he could speak thus? And then he tried to imagine to himself the fulfillment of the maestro's wish; he had a vision of himself, old and gray -headed, enjoying the sense of his fame and his world-wide reputation, and calmly advising some other in the heyday of youth to renounce love and happiness. It was not till he was confronted by a uge poster, in which the name of Madame Merlin° and Comerio shone out conspicu- ously, that he once more perceived the true facts of the woe Thia was no question be- tween the merits of marriage and of art -life; it was the question whether he should choose happiness for Francesca and himself, or choose the posiebility of saving his sister. Life is made up of such decisions -some of them petty, some of them overwhelmingly great, MAO of them momentous. We hate the thought of the choice, long to gain without losing, hope to triumph without sacrifice, strive and struggle and fret in the vain effort to break through the inexorable law that those who find their life must first lose it. Truly, "men are not more willing to live the life of the crucified." Again those words returned to Carlo's ;mind; they grated upon him even more than when he had first heard them spoken -perhaps because, while far from under- standing them, he began vaguely to per- ceive their drift. He saw a dim, distaste- ful vision of self-renunciation; he did not see that true self-renunciation implies the . peace-givhsg presence of one in whose ser- vice we renounce. While he was still all confused and agi- tated by this inward conflict he was way- laid by Herr Ritter. " Whither away?" exclaimed the old man, kindly. "You are never thinking of going to Pozzuoli in this heat. Come home with me, it is long since I saw you. You are looking fagged, Carlo." Reoolleetaig the obligation he was uuder to Enriecaa father, Carlo felt that it would not do to refuse his hospitality, though, truth to tell, he had never felt less inclined for a visit to the kind German household. He, the laughter -loving, felt that he could not endure the sound of laughter; he, the impulsive and unreflecting, had actually come to sucha point that he desired nothing so much. as quiet and solitude to think out this great question. He did not get much quiet in the Ritter householi, bet he met with that hearty, vociferous kindness which Enrico's family knew so well how to bestow. Frau Ritter had never before been so motherly, the daughters of the house never so anxious to do what they could for him. Enrico himself was unusually silent; he, watched his friend narrowly, perceiving from his fax that matters must be worse rather than better since their last meeting. / Possibly, however, the parting with his sister might account for the troubled ex- pression he bore; and when, after dinner, the two friendswere leftalone, Enrico turned eagerly, to the subject which the others baa titudiously avoided. "Madame Merlin° has left you, I sup- pose ?" he began. "She makes her first appeesance to-hight, I see." "She left this morning," said Carlo, " a ncl sings to -night in 'Don Giovanni." "Why should you go back to the empty house? Spend the night here," auggeeted Enrico. Carte hesitated. alt Would be my best chance of seeing Coraerio," he said, thoughtfully. How do you mea rc ?a "If I slept here and went tha evening to the Mereadante." Gran Di() 1 It would scarcely be an enjoyable evening for you,. my friend." Carlo made an expressrve gesture with Ms shoulders. " Perhaps not, but I should see him and be aale to judge better what to be at." "You have not Maxi then, of a baritone fit to step into his thoes ?" "1 have heard of one, but it is doubtful Whether he will accept Merano% offer." " What I Has it gorse car far as that? Actually an offer ? Come, the dour% begin to disperse ! Ono get that scamp oueted and your troubles are over." Carlo was silent. In his heart he thought they svoula be, not over, but pat begun. He had not yet told Enrico of Pale's little plot, for he knew that his friend would favor no plan likely to make him unhappy, and felt that he was not yet strong enough to stand arguments for the side on which he was already Waged, "Well, I will easy the night tame you ask me," ae said at length. " Will. you COme with me to Don Giovanni Yes, if you are indeed bout on going. Your presence will be commented on, though, You see it is so soon after-" he broke off in confusion, adding, after a pause, "And you see every one will be there to -night, for Madame Merlino's first appearance has been much talked of. Your going may be misunderatood," " Che sara saa'a " said Carlo, with a quick sigh, "Enough, 1 shall go; let as say no more about it." CHAPTER IX. anz 01,11-E-GAnDEN. "Though one but sea, 'Thy will be done,' He hath not /Also Ma day At set of sun.' -Christini .Rossetti. As Enrico had predicted, the Theatre Mercadente was crowded. Not only was it the opening night, but the Neapolitan world was curious to see the new prime donna, this girl of good birth and breeding, who had outrage(' all the proprieties and eloped with her singing -master.. Had it not been for his inward consciousness that there was something much worse than people might ere long say of his sister, Carlo could cost have endured all that he was that night fated to overhear. On every side people discussed the Merlino-Donati scandal '• but though he winoed under it, the dread of the future deadened the recollection of the past, the new danger eclipsed the old shame. He sat as though in a bad dream, waiting for tate curtain to rise and disolose to him the face of this enemy of his peace ; so en- grossed was he with his thought that he scarcely heard the overture. He wanted to meet his foe face to facie, and with a sort of shudder he reflected that in a very short time it was possible „bat he himself might be standing ou that very stage whence Leporello was now descanting upon his master's vices. A moment more and Comerio, the Don Giovanni of the evening, would appear. Carlo breathed hard, drew himself together, and waited through moments which seemed like hours. Curiously enough, the first sight of his foe relieved him; Comedo was not at all the ideal villain ; he was a small -made, supple - looking man, with very white taper hands, and a face which at that distance looked refined -much too refined for a Don Giovanni. He sang rather well, but his acting was so execrable that Carlo forgot everything in a longing desire to substitute something lifelike for the ludiorous throwing up of hands which seemed to be Comerioa idea of dramatic art. Never once was it possible to think of him as any- thing but Comerio, the baritone; he walked through Ms part and threw about his arms very freely, that was all. And yet his complete failure as an actor was in Slialo's favor. He wanted to study the man, not to enjoy the opera, and since Comerio had no notion of throwing himself into his part, the opera was as good a time to study his own character as any other. The music was poisoned to him that night and he could hardly endure the repetition of "La ci darern," which roused the audi- ence to enthusiasm. He never spoke once to Enrico, who for his part could only speculate as to his friend's feelings'for Carlo showed no other sign of agitation than a slightly heightened color, sat out the opera, and greeted two or three friends whom they encountered afterward quite in his usual manner. Only one thing seemed ominous, because it was unnatural, and that was his silence. It grew so burdensome as theywalked home that at last Enrico broke i the ce with an outspoken question, "Well, what do you think of him?" "I don't know -I can hardly tell -my head aches too much," said Carlo, in a voice which betrayed so much suffering that his friend ventured no more inquiries, and was glad enough when they reached home. "I shall think things out better to -mor- row," were his lastwords that night. But when the morning came he was incapable of thinking at all, and could only lie still and endure the worst headache he had ever bad in his life; while, as though to torture, him yet more, "La ci. darem " rang perpetually in his ears. On the Saturday he woke to the con- sciousness that the pain was over, that his brain was clear once more, and,that he must no longer postpone the decision upon which so much depended. But Frau Ritter abso- lutely refused to allow hira to go home till the heat of the day was over; and it was not until late that he managed to escape from his kindly nurses, and, taking a boat at the Piller°, made his waa, home. He felt much shaken by all that he hacl been through, and would fain have given himself up to the refreshment of the sweet June evening, turning his back OA the threatening future, and getting what pleasure he could from the beautiful bay which was so familiar and so dear to him. But something warned him that now was his time, that he was not likely again to have such uninterrupted quiet.. For a while all went well. The pretty scene in which Zerlina made her first appearance amid the crowd of merry peas- ants could not have been better chosen for Anita's debut. She looked so charming and sang so well that she won all hearts; and even Carlo felt a thrill of pride and 'Pleasure as he listened to her sweet bird -like notes in the duet with Masetto, a part which was well filled by Merlin° himself. But his pleasure was of short duration. All his miserable apprehension returned the instant Comerio was on the stage again. To see him make love to Anita was more than he could endure. - Next day the newspapers were warm in their praise as to the acting in the scenes between Don Giovanni and Zerlina ; but Carlo knew that this was just the one part of the opera in which there bad been no at- tempt at acting& Resolutely he went over in his mind all that there was to be said on either side of the question. What course would Captain Britton take? Would he not justly com- plain of an arrangement which must indefi- nitely postpone his daughter's marriage? Would he not be wrathful at his choice of such a profession? And how was he to ex - lain to him that choice without altogether betraying Nita's story? Again, there was the profession itself. Piale thought only of the reputation he would some day gain, but Carlo, not unnaturally, thought of the repu- tation he would lose. He knew quite well how his friends would regard his choice • he cella imagine the expression of Thiele Guido's face as he exclaimed : " What I a Dobati tura eater ?" And then there was Francesca. His breast heaved, his eyes grew dim • had it not been for the presence of the boatman he would have given way and sobbed dead. An.1.1 yet Plate was right As far as that went Once convinced that he might really sav. Nite, Francesca would be the first to bite him go ; once sure that he was doing what he thought right, she would bid him god - (speed and bear the pain like a little heotine. With him rested the real difficulty, the terrible decision, Wee he to glee her thug pain to boar ?" "Theo will be stormy weather to -night, signor," said the boatman, Waling round in his seat to glance out seaward as they rounded Posilipo. This remark diverted Cealee thoughts for a moment. The emir was like glass ; far away in the distance he could see a yacht lying. becalmed, her beautiful white seila fiaramag WI)" as she rolled. The sunset was just over, and already the brief twilight was fading away, the summer alight begriming, and after the sultry, alined breathless day, a cool wind .was springing 41) 04 the horizon could be seen the dark line which allowed that a change i was coming, and that the time of calm n- aetion was over. Was it not like his life? Ho had had his days of ease, his smooth, uneventful clap, with nothing to mar the tranquil happiness. Then there had arisen the dark forebodissa of coming trouble, and now the storm bad broken. Was he to choose this life of per. metual storm ? Or ;Wight he not seek the tranquil haven where he longed to be? Must he indeed go forth into a world so unconge- nial -into a strife so distasteful? He was not indolent by nature, he was not selfish; but he had, in a marked degree, that Italian hatred of storm and struggle which to a northern nature is so incompre- hensible. To go out into a life of perpetual temptation -a life likely to be full of provo- cations to the temper -this was harder to him than to most men, for he dreaded noth- ing so much as losing his self-control. What if he should accept this offer, go forth as Nita's preserver, and then fail himself? In that case, indeed, all would have been lost, honor included. He could not risk all this for a mere hope -a mere chance. It could not surely be expected of a man that he should give up his horne, his prospects of marriage, his profession, everything that he cared for, all for the sake of saving one woman? No, it certainly could not be expected I Why, the world would laugh at such a notion. Had any other man put such a case to him, he, too, would have sinned at it, and called the propounder of such folly a mere Quixote. How foolish the old boatman would think him if he steered this frail little boat out into the troubled waters yonder instead of making all speed to guide it to the shore. He ahivered slightly, threw his cloak across his chest, and, for the sake of a change of thought, began to abuse old Frau Ritter for having delayed his return so long, and in her dread of sunshine brought him in for the risk of malaria. But above it all floated the perverse voice which would not leave hire unmolested, "Men are not more willing to live the life of the Crucified." He left off abusing Frau Ritter, and began to hum a song, but naturally enough chanced to begin with an air from "Don Giovanni." The voice he longed to drown spoke more and more clearly. Well, "Don Giovanni" was poisoned for him; he must esohew it in future. And forthwith he strove to drive the unpleasant thoughts connected with it from his mind with the firet snatch of song whioh came to his head. Out into the sum- mer night rang the noble, impassioned address of Valentino to Mephistopheles : "La °rocs dai demoni tuoi oiguarda 1" The scene in the opera rose vividly before him; the soldier, with his cross•handled 'sword uplifted, boldly confronting the devil who so lately had worsted him, but who now shrank back helpless and tremb- ling. Good heavens! and he had sought to drown the voice of God in his heart by those very words, had sought to drive back the good and to give place to the evil. A..horror of great darkness fell upon him. It was the crisis of his whole life. After- ward, when he recalled the past anguish he recalled with it those sombre sur- roundings; the purple waters, the great dark cloud drawing nearer and nearer, ne hopeless gloom of the night broken only by the light on Cape Miseno and the red light on the side of the yacht. Not a sound was to be heard save the splashing of the oars, and now and then a sort of hoarse shout in the distance, probably the yacht's captain giving orders to Ms crew, but to Carlo the silence was tumult. He was sailor enough to know that in a few minutes the storm would bo upon them. That mattered little, for they were close to the shore ; it was the tumult in his own heart which absorbed Vaguely, and as if from a great distance, he heard the boatmen giving thanks to San Gennaro that they were safely in before the squall; he had indistinct recollections of paying the man a double fare and bidding him seek shelterforthe night at Florestono's hut, then plunging wildly on through the darkness, across the beach, up the hill among the dusky vines, his pain increased by a consciouthess, that when he had last trodden that path it had been with Francesca. Was it to be thus with his life? Must he content himself with a memory of the briefest snatch of happiness ever given to man, and toil on through long solitary years over the rough and stony paths of publicity? It was impossible -impossible 1 He rushed on yet faster, as though by rapid motion he could escape from the tyranny of an idea. Just as he reached the olive -garden the storm suddenly broke. The wind raged over the land, tossing the trees wildly to and fro ; the rain came down in torrents, the lightning cost its angry gleam across the heaving sea, and the swaying boughs, and the wet, shining shore. Carlo threw him- self down on the ground, beneath the thickest of the olive -trees, seeking at once shelter from the outward storm and help in the inward struggle. He would no longer flee from the voice that had haunted him ; he would listen to it -would try to under- stand it. What was the life of the Crucified? All his soul went into the question, and the confusion within him seemed to lessen as he waited for the answer, which framed itself to him amid the raging of the wind and the dull roar of the thunder, something after this fashion: The life of the Crucified was lived by One who delighted to do God's will. He did not exclude pleasure, or morbidly delight in pain; it was just that He did not think about pleasing Himself at all. He took the bitter and the sweet as they were sent, and delighted in them because He knew the; Sender, who sought only the good of all men. This is the life of the Crucified. You think happiness is to please yourself; it is not that at all, it is to delight in doing His will. "Lord," he sobbed, "I am not willling- it is true -I am not willing to live Thy life. Savo me from my selnshnese I 'By Thine agony and bloody sweat, by Thy cross and passion, good Lord, deliver me.'" He repeated the familiar words again and again, hardly conscious of what he Was say - Mg, yet in his anguish firldiog them a sort of relief. And presently, either the words or his own surroundings brought to his mind what the greatest of modern atheists mace termed, with an involuntary softening of the voice, "That terrible garden -scene." There had been a struggle -an agony -for the Son of God Himself. He, too, knew what it cost deliberately to take the course which must bring bitter grief to those who loved. Him. He, too, knew how human nature shrank from isolation, from mis- conception. Every temptation now assail- ing Mtn had also assailed the Son who learner' obedience by the things which He suffered. And just as a child will for very awe for- , get its little griefs when brought face to face with the great grief of its parents, so Carlo lot eight for a Ono of his own pain, that past scene becoming far rem real to him, than the bitter present. The tears wrung from him first by his owe anguish fall now for atinthers ".Lord," be sobbed, it cannot be that I am Willing that Theta ehouldet be crucified afresh -put to open shame -while I live here in this paradtse 1. Anything rather than that ! Lord, choose for me what Thou wilt. My spirit is willing, but ray flesh is weals. By Thaw agony and bloody sweat, by Thy cross and passion, good Lord, de- liver " An hour later the brief Mediterranean storm was over, the stars were shining, the yacht was on her course once more, her white sails spread to catch the softened breeze. Then Carlo rose to his feet and went on his way. CHAPTER X.. THIS PILGRIM. Soy, so true and tender, Dare you not abide? Will you spread your pinions? Must you leave our Bidet Nay; an angers shining grace Waits to fill your place! -4. A. -Procter. "Very odd of Carlo not to come in to. day," remarked Captain Britton from the depths of his easy chair. "1 suppose the heat was too much for him. Have you heard from him, Fran ?" "1 had a little note from him yesterday, father, only to say that he wasn't well, and that the Ritters insisted on keeping him, but that he would be sure to be at home again on Saturday. I dare say Frau Ritter rnade him stay; it was SO Mary, you know, and since Herr Ritter's illness she is always in terror of sunstrokes." "Well, one thing is, this thunderstorm will clear the air," said the captain, rubbing his large hands together contentedly. "If I could be sure your uncle was safely in port, I should feel more comfortable, though. What did I do with his letter? Ah, here it is The yacht is to leave Leghorn on Wednesday,' he says. They certainly ought to be at Naples by this time." "I looked out for the Pilgrim yesterday," said Fx•anaesca, "but to -day I forgot all about it. How I wish Clare and the girls were coming too ; it was very benighted of them to like a stupid visit to the North Cape better than a cruise in the Mediterranean." "No accounting for tastes," said the captain, smiling. "if it were not for this engagement of yours, I should feel sorely tempted to get your uncle to give me a berth. There is nothing, after all, like the sea. You smile, Fran. Why, bless your dear little heart I I wasn't wishing things otherwise with you and Carlo. On the con- trary, I think the sooner you are married and settled the better for both of you. He has looked sadly worn and out of spirits lately, poor fellow." "'here has been so mach to trouble al d Francesca, with a sigh. "Ay, and he is unfit to be left alone in that dreary house. Really, I don't see why there should be any more delay. Now that he has got rid of that sister of his, why shouldn't you be married quietly and have done with it ? No disrespect to the mother in that, poor soul. Why, it is the thing of all others she would have wished. I tell you what, Fran, here is such a chance as is never likely to come again. Your uncle is unexpectedly coming out here; he is sure to give at least a week to Naples -why should we not have your wedding while he is here? Upon my word" -he rubbed his hands with greater satisfaction than before -" that's the happiest notion that has come to me for a long time, Fran. You and Carlo shall be packed off on your honey- moon, Sibyl and I will console ourselves with a cruise in the Pilgrim, and we'll all forget that provoking Madame Mediae who has made such a storm in a teacup." Francesca blushed vividly. "If you really, think -if Carlo-" she broke off, in confusion. Captain Britton patted her head caressingly. "Why, of course, my love, of course I would take good care that Carlo thought the suggestion his own. To pro- long the engagement would be bad for both of you. Nothing in the world more trying than long engagements. Not that you are to think I am in any hurry to get rid of you; but, after all, we shall scarcely be separated, and an engagement is somehow neither one thing nor the other. I should like to see you married, my dear ; this sad affair of poor Carlo's has been an annoyance to me -such things are unsettling; they interrupt the steady routine of daily life. I confess I shall be glad to go away for a time with 'your uncle., and then, later on, to come back ' and begin our ordinary life once more." Francesca felt like a catrubbed the wrong way, but knowing that the rubber meant it all very kindly she bore it with composure. "A cruise in the Pilgrim would be the best possible change for you, she said," laughing lightly, though not altogether without an effort. "1 shall go and see if she is anywhere to be seen; and really, since you are in such a hurry to be off, I shall have to think about my wedding. dress." Glad to put an end to the conversation, she crossed the room, threw open the window, and stepped out into the loggia. The night was deliciously fresh after the storm ; she felt an inexpressible sense of freedom and relief as she closed the window behind her, and drank in deep draughts of the cool, moist air. Though her father's Words had grated upon her, there was, nevertheless, a certain amount of truth in them which she could not but recognize. She, too, had that longing to go away, to escape from the scene of all the trouble and sorrow which had lately invaded their home. It would be like escaping from the hot, lamp -lit drawing -room into this cool out-of-doors. And then, perhaps Carlo would begin to be himself again. Surely, though she had not liked the way in which the idea was expressed, the idea itself was a good one. They would go away -right away from Naples -away from the region of theaters -away from all that could recall Carlo's loss, and she would comfort him. Then, later on, they would induce Merlin° to let Anita come to them; she should stay with them at the Villa Bruno, should he made perfectly happy, should have all kinds of little English com- forts which would be new and delightful to her after her wandering life. And so her troubles should somehow conveniently dis- appear, and she should find that their home was her home. If her trouble was connected with money i as Francesca fancied, why then Carlo would somehow manage to clear off her debts, and she, too, should start life afresh, and they would all live happily ever after. So she dreamed in her girlish fashion, knowing nothing of the real stat ri of the case, only fully convinced that this dreary state of things could net teat forever, that somehow it would all come right in the end like the bootee. And in that belief no doubt she was right; wrong only in this, that "com- ing right in the end" meant to her coming right in these three score years and ten. To be married, perhaps, next week! How calmly her father bed suggested the idee, and how her heart throbbed as she recalled his words! She would lay aside her mburra mg for that one day, Would be dressed spite of the sadness which had heralded in 1 am, marriage, as a bride adorned for her husband"; and therewith the began, after the Meaner of girls, to picture the drew to herself; it should be long and white and shining; and aa for erange-bloseoM, why there was no lack of that in the garden, always supposing this heavy rain had not dashed it. Thinking of the orange -blossom, she turned from those inward visions, and looked down into the dusky inass of trees and shrubs below, starting a little at sight of some one approaching, but quickly recog- nizing her lover. 4` Carlo ! why, Carlo! is it pally you ?" she exclaimed, an ecstasy of happiness in her voice, for she had not in the least ex- pected him. He looked up. She wae leaning on the rail of the iogg(a, among the climbing roses, her eyes bright with joy, her sweet face a little flushed, her white neck and arms gleaming through the black lace of her dress. He trembled from head to foot. It was too late now to tell her all -and had he strength to meet her? Weald it not be better just to kiss that hand resting on the white balustrade, and excuse himself for the evening? But Francesca, who had never since her betrothal been so long parted from her lover, turned and flew down the steps to meet him. "Oh, I had quite given you up, darling!" she cried. "And are you redly well again -quite well ?" A terrible pang rent his heart, but he trembled no more; all the man in hirn rose up to meet this sere trial. Quite well, carina ; only wet through, and not fit to touch you," he said ; and by an impulse which he could hardly have explained he ohecked the hands which were stealing round his neck, drew them down, and held them fast in his while he bent for- ward and kissed her. A shade passed over her face. Why did he stop to think about his wet clothes I What lover es•erdeigned tobestow a thought on such prudent considerations? He read her thoughts in a. glance, aud therewith saw a vision of the future -the shadow deepening on that dear face, the eyes dim with tears. the brow contracted with pain. To ;hide his agony from her he let his head droop forward resting his burn- ing forehead on her shoulder. "1 have been so dreadfully anxious, Carlino," she said. "And oh, it is so beautiful to have you back again !" He did not speak, only his csld hands held hers more tightly; his face was hid- den on her breast. But though he could hide from her the sight of his anguish, he could not deceive her ; she knew intuitively that it was no physical pain which made a man like Carlo bow his head like one over- whelmed. It must surely be that he was thinking of his mother -and it must have been terribly dreary corning back from Naples that stormy evening -corning home for the first time to the empty house. "My own dear one," she said, all the deep tenderness in her heart stealing into her voice, "you'll not shut me 0UD from jeer sorrow? What is yours is mine, Carlin°. I was so happy when I saw you, I forgot what a sad home -coming it must be. But, darling, it wasn't that I forgot her, for 1, too, loved her." "Pray that I may keep my promise to her," he whispered. "Pray ! pray !" There was a silence. The tears welled up in Francesca'e, eyes, not because she understood his sorrow, but because the sor- row was hie, and because she loved him. She prayed obediently, like a little child. After awhile he raised his head, looked for a moment into her eyes, then pressed his lips to hers in a long, lingering kiss. ' Dear love," he said gently, "we will keep out Whitsuntide together." He watched her up the marble steps, then turned away, walked home through the wet garden paths. "And even in his great sad- ness he could not but smile faintly as he re- flected what Plate's feelings would be could he now see him, cold and weary, and wet to the skin. "The singer keeps his shofi in his throat," he said to himself, with a pathetic little effort to persuade himself that he was now quite accustomed to the idea. "1 must not indulge any more in evening storms." MO be continued.) Wanted, A Boy. A jolly boy. A boy full of vim. A boy who scorns a lie. A boy who will never smoke. A boy with some "stick to it." A boy who takes to the bathtub. A boy who is proud of his big sister. A boy who thinks hard work no disgrace. A boy who does chores without grumb- ling. A boywho believes that an education is worth while. A bey who plays with all his might -- during playing hours. A boy who listens not to unclean stories from any one. A boy who thinks his mother above all mothers is the model. A boy who does not know more than all the rest of the house. A boy who does not think it inconsistent to mix playing and praying. A boy who does not wait to be called the second time in the morning. --Star of Pinta Short and Sweet. 'Bangs cover a multitude of wrinkles. We presume that Cork has a large float- ing population. ,, The barber, we suppose, gets to heaven by a close shave. The exercising of horses just before a race is the preamble. The convict is naturally in a good humor when he's breaking out. • Tara eagle always feels more or less soar - nese m its wings when it uses them. • Most revolutions nowadays are caused by the modern printing press. -Texas Siftings. Alice Jane Campbell, a London lady, has just patented an improved measuring at- tachment for thous and scissors, that prom- ises to make her famous. Beards were at various times taxed in England and the sheriff of Canterbury paid three shillings and four pence for wearing a beard. In the first year of Elizabeth's reign every beard above a fortnight's growth was taxed three shillings and depletion but the law was too absurd to be enforced. Peter the Great, imposed a tax of A rouble upon beards, but it was roon cancelled. Saalitigs : A man out in Kentucky has just found a heavy pot of geld. It is likely that he lifted it with three peke. Husband -What on earth did you get that new gown for? Wife ---I expect a new servant girl to -day, and of course, my dear, I must receive her properly. A pretty female child and a fine berm e are very much alike, in that either becomes a handsome Woman, The Sultan of Turkey has won a suit against an Italian newspaper that had printed a caricature of him. It cost the editor $75 and three days time. , There is a tide in the affairs of mai which f not Skilfully dodged at the proper time drowns them. There seems to be a demand for shoe ventilation. Various plans with this end in View have been formulated, but none (Mem to be practical. IF RE WERE, A WOMAN What He Would Alwaya Do To Keep Ream in the Family,• Right Bides of Living for tile Wire as Lakt • /Down by the Unselfish. Loving Beshand -The Pipe and the Slippers. If you were to ask ten men what they would do if they were all women, nine out of ten would tell you something like the, following. Afterward the tenth man would sign his name to it. Agreed to by nine men I am a man (fortunately), but if I were a woman, I woulcl institute the following re- forms in my feminine career : 1. I would see that my husband's pipe and slippers were to be found at night ex- actly where he left them in the moraine& likewise his blacking•brush and receipts. 2. I would never pose as a martyr be- cause the male members of the family were occasionally late at dinner. 3. I would never look as though I were suffering from indigestion simply because male members of the family stayed outlets at night and then make irrelevant observe - tions. 4. I would never utter disagreeable re- marks regarding habits of drinking and smoking to make sensitive male members of the family feel uncomfortable. 5. I would never be on unfriendly terms with my servant, thereby encouraging her to take French leave. By dint of discretion, policy and an amiable disposition, a servant should always be in her place to promote general comfort. 6. I would never tell people how muck IL ltd to do, ancl I wouldn't chase around the, house doing the thousand useless thine which a woman does. 7. I would never take more than a usual amount of pans to hide the button -hook, the clothes brush or the morning paper. 8. I would add to the culinary depart-• merit various °lever inventions I know of, and not evince such a prejudice about every way of doing which was not the way my graudmother did 100 'years age 9. I would halm the house run by suck system that I would never lift my fingers and no one would be suspicious of when the work was performed. I would never have sweeping clay or washing day or house- • cleaning time. • 10. I would never cook cabbage, hanr, fritters, fish or onions within the sacred home precincts. • 11. I would not allow the cook to burmso much fuel, and I would keep the kindling wood under lock and key. • 12. I would have the coffee always strong, clear and aromatic, and I would never buy meat Which consisted chiefly of bones muscle, fat or fibre. 13. I would have eggs done to a turn its exactly three minutes by the clock, and not have the shells so hot that no man on earth could open them, 14. I would never take advantage of the grave -yard hours of the night to go through my husband's pockets for small change. . 15. I would never ask a clerk to take down every bolt of cloth in the store ia order to select two yards of doth for an apron. 16. I would never allow church societies •missionary enterprises, literaryclubs and other foolish feminine organizations to interfere with the domestic diversions of mending, patching, darning and the like. 17. I wouldn't haimper the mind of sa busy man with mailing unimportant lettere; to feminine correspondents in obscure see - dons of the country, ani then create en, necessary family disturbance on find- ing them a week or so thereafter in his coat pocket hanging safely in the closet. 18. I wouldn't be a dog in the manger and object to a man's going to a theatre be- cause I had to remain at home myself onmy baby's account. 19. I would wind my watch. I would get my baby in the habit of sleeping at night, and I wouldn't look sad and red - eyed at every change of season when I couldn't bus, a new bonnet. 20. I wouldn't berate a dressmaker Whore I had paid $40 to ruin a new gown. 21. I wouldn't use my lap for a writing desk and criss-cross the lines four times om one sheet so that no one but a woman coul& read it. • 22. I wouldn't put pins in my belt, nor pin the buttons to my shoes. 23. I wouldn't give a man a pair of hand - embroidered velvet slippers four sizes too large for him sad then feel offended when. he would not wear them. 24. I wouldn't give my husband a smok- ing cap and a $45 cigar set for a Christmas present and then make inconsistent remarks all the next year about the extravagance of men. 25. I wouldn't buy my husband a Christ- mas present and then expect him to pay the bill. 26. I wouldn't quarrel with my lady - friends in the horse car about who should pay the fare. I would peaceably allow the •other woman to pay. • 27. I wouldn't trade off any husband's last season's clothing for bric-a-brae and: then pretend 1 didn't know what became of it • 28. I would not put tidies on the chairs nor hang a match receiver on the &sada- 29. I would cultivate an amiable disposi- tion, never have headaches, take a nap every afternoon, bridle my tongue, and, above all, never desire to have the last v-ord. 30. I would, in short, endeavor always to make the lives of male members of the family as felicitous and free from care as possible. • Signed by the tenth man..: -Nem York Recorder. • A new lead -headed nail for usc3 on cor- rugated roofs hits appeared in London. The head flattens under the blow of the hammer and prevents leaking. 1 'I SOOTHING. CLEANSING, HEALING. Instant Relief, Permanent Cure, Failure Impossible. Many so-called diseases are simply symptoms of Catarrh, such as headache, losing sense of anion, foul breath, hawking and spittbag, general feeling, of debility, etc. If you are troubled with any of those or 'kindred symptoms, you hove Catarrh, and should logo no time preening a bottle of Nis.% BAIL warno5 isa time, neglected cold in head resultd in Catarrh, •followed 'by consumption aria death. Sold,by aU druggists, or sent, post paid, On receipt of price (GO cents and $1) by addressing FOLFOOD& CeistrodkvIlle,Ont. 1. ra`