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Home My WebLink AboutThe Exeter Times, 1894-7-12, Page 6se ; ,,, ..t. #s ,� iro,wx r•M y'�'r ,.7.''s ;Chy °i�^'t'n�".w",';-�,`✓�,., kl3��olt ugt a, ClrO1tP: Soret me h, est Shiloh's Poreue e action,^2$ send. 'TArwIZERie %noose, Tenn, earls a eb to edr� ate la, � verorAldney eta A RR Remedy. It will u. price 50 ets. ul treatment is 11011's ftemedies. satisfaction. ler, Soli - Notary finer, &o ',Etc. Luft, .a? ].. E FARM, . • CHAPTER XXCII.. It was theday before the wedding, Ruth had been restless since early morning, She had risen about five o'clock, and had gone round the farm, visiting every little nook and corner of the plane in which she had spent her young life. She was in sore die- tress. The news of Miss Clifford's illness had carne to her with the relief of a re- prieve : it seemed to the girl that it must defer the wedding ; and then, when she learned that the crisis of the fever was over, and that Dorothy waspronounced out of danger, the revulsion came. Ruth saw the extent of her mistake ; she was tangled in a net of her own making, and she longed with all the strength of her nature to free herself from her promise to marry Clifford. This longing had been greatly increased a few days ago. Michael Clifford had return- ed to Purley, and had come over next day to Appledore. Ruth forced herself to receive him kindly, and she found this easier than she had expected, because she was not alone with him. Philip. Bryant was not so well, and he lay on the sofa during Michael's visit. Ruth went to the door with Mr. Clifford, but she talked per- sistently of his sisterand her illness. He held her hand a moment as they parted, and then Ile bent over her and kissed her cheek,. She did not draw back, but a deep flush overspread her face, and she kept her eyes fixed on the ground. She had not seen hint since, for an ac- cumulation of business kept him at work from early morning till late; but he had asked leave to spend this last evening at the farm, as there were many things he wished to arrange, he said, both with her and with ter father. Ruth was walking up and down he gravel path beneath her window. She id at first begun by reasoning with her - f on the almost childish repugnance she toward her marriage, but her efforts at self -conquest were fruitless; they seem- . recoil on herself, and to stir up a feel - intolerable shrinking from Michael I. She looked up at her window as lied beneath it, and pictured. the Reginald Bevington pausing below had so often done, till she seemed soft, refined voice calling her to the shivered, and suddenly broke 41 the specious reasoning she tpeating so mechanically to t it, I will not do it ; it is horrible I" f this tempest of feeling, gay her to and fro, as the une tall and slender tree, •eep an outward calm. will make me wicked ; hate Michael when he 1—I shall wish he cod still a moment s stopped," she said answer for myself miserable. Who ed to put an end Such a marriage Michael or to ak to him to- tr her as she %lked up and * of effecting It desperate 'ohael him - him that he would lea came 'a san- t with- / back vi the Duch her me - ^es "I don't know," she said wearily she felt her burden was too heavy too carry any farther, "I'm afraid, sorely afraid, that in telling you I may simply shift sorrow from myself to you, Well, dear, it's this. Please forgive me, but I cannot keep my promise; 1 must tell Michael Clifford when he comes that I cannot be his wife to -mor- row," Bryant's face flushed till the girl felt rightened. Whenhe spoke his voice sounded thick and broken, like that of a drunkard. "I'm rained, then— a ruined, disgraced man, who cannevershow his face again among decent folks I Ruinedby my own child 1 Rath, Ruth I I could not have expected this of you 1" Re pressed his band over his eyes and sank back on the sofa cushions. Ruth rose from her knees: she felt like a criminal ; she could nob plead her own cause ; the agony in her father's tong had completely unnerved her, There was ail ence; then all at once he sat upright and looked sternly at her, " What is you reason for this extraordin- ary change? You must have a reason." His tone as he said this was calmer than she expected. She had resolved to tell hint her secret but even if she had not determined she was by this time too much overwrought to hesi- tate, " I love another man," Her voice was steady, and she kept her eyes hired on his, front which the deep flush had not yet faded. Her father did not answer at once; he sat rubbing his hands one against the other ; he seemed lost in thought. "This man you love," he said slowly, "loves you, 1 suppose?" She bent her head. "He is perhaps not rich enough to marry you for some time to come. Is that so? You told a falsehood, then, when you said you were free ?" Muth had dreaded this question; she hung her head ; she could not meet her father's eyes as she answered: " I am free in that way; I have no hope that he will ever be able to marry me." Her father's face changed ; a heavy frown. settled on it. "Then you have no right to go on caring. for him ; he must be a mere trifler, a weak, philandering fool—worse still, I doubt. How dared the fellow try to win the affec- tion of such a girl as your are, when he knew he could not marry you?" He utter- ed an oath, which alarmed her --it was so unlike hint, "You are not the girl to—to fling yourself in the way of a man who did did not seek you. I've seen that for my- self." " Perhaps I--" she began, but he check- ed her. " Let that subject be dead and buried," he burst out angrily—so very angrily that she remembered with terror the doctor's warning that he must never be allowed to excite himself. I will not hear another syllable about your folly. You have lowered my opinion of your sense in letting me know that you yielded to such an in- fatuation. Never speak of it to any one. Turn your back on it, and be thankful that only your father has learned it from you." Whether her confession had robbed her of more strength than she had to spare, or whether this new, strange eloquence in her father had frightened away the deter- mined resolution with which she had strung herself up to speak, Ruth felt stupe- fied and helpless. The net from which she had momentarily freed herself once more closed round her, and as her father went on speaking the hope of possible escape faded away. " You have told your story, Ruth," he went on more quietly ; " now I will tell you mine. You have heard some of it before, but my risk has become heavier. Did I make you fully understand that Michael is my only creditor, that every- thing we have—the very clothes we wear —are all paid for by his money ? If he withdraws his help I must either go to the workhouse or die in a ditch. Perhaps I told you this before; I am in a far worse position now." He stopped abruptly, with such a look of utter misery on his face that Ruth feared some fresh misfortune had befallen him. 00 Tell me what has made things worse, father ?" she said. He shrugged his shoulders with discon- tent. " Such a question to ask I As easy for you to know as for me." He thought she was affecting this ignorance, and so making it more painful to him to explain. Philip Bryant had not been considered selfish by :hose who loved him, because of his sin- ularly genial and winning manner. Even sly Voce, prejudiced as she had been tinst him, had grown devoted • to service since she has been in v contact with him ; and in her pres- extremity Ruth blamed herself far for having agreed to her father's than sheblamed himforhavingurged l'ssuitonheracceptanoe, Shewaited him to go on speaking; by this time 'earned that he would not bear a in silence. ,. sly hope I had of paying that back, or of making him any sort %tion, was in your being good ',h. You said you were free, 't it for granted you would he r him. Instead of that you've what I never looked to see daughter do : you've led en ; you've cherished his , till be's a hundred times you than he was a month to feel' sure of you, and eh all his hopes. I 'eve so heartless— 'ed, but as she still slightly ',t her op- enly be ' there less hopeless fancy -I untersteod you to say that it is a hopeless fanny and my life." He had so exhausted, himself that lie burst into tears and covered his face with his handkerchief, Ruth felt a touch of anger;; she thought her father must know that she could nob hesitate in the ohoioe he offered her. But her anger passed quickly as she put her arms round him and felt that he was quivering with emotion. "Rush, dear, dearest father 1" she white. -pared ; "forget what I told you. I see there is no way but this one." "God bless you, my dear, good child!" He kissed her fondly as lie spoke, but his words sank like lead upon her heart. She could hardly return his loving kisses. She felt crushed, enslaved ; all spontaneous power of action or expression had loft her. She put her hand on the back of the nearest chair, for she was faint and unsteady. Her father saw her sudden paleness, but lie would not allude to it. "You had better rest, darling" he said tenderly. "Go and lie down ; I will send for you when Michael and I have finished our talk." Philip Bryant's excitement seemed to have braced him ; he sat thinking after Ruth had left him. He finally decidednot to give her the chance of speaking to Michael Clifford except in his presence. "'Tis all for her own good," he thought. " When they are man and wife she will hold her tongue for her own sake. Sally Voce came in presently to look for Miss Bryant; the rector had sent her a present; but her father said she was to be left undisturbed.; she was not even to be told when Mr. Clifford came. "Show him in to me, Sally; 'I have to speak to him alone. You can fetch Miss Ruth when I tell you to do so. He spoke withso much dignity that the old woman looked surprised. The idea that the poor pian should take to being masterful I" she said to herself as she went back to her kitchen. Sally made up for want of feeling by sharpness of observation. Her keen per- ception led her to almost as correct a con- clusion as the moat sympathetic insight would have done. She was entirely dis- satisfied with Mr. Clifford's courtship. He might have stayed a day or two with his sister, she thought ; but to neglect Miss Ruth and "his regular opportoonities" in the way he had done was something un- heard of, she told herself considering how very short the courting -time had been. "'Tie enough, to set Miss Ruth agin him ; and his gifts isn't up to the mark, neither. There now I if Voce had brought me a parcel of books in- stead of trinkets an' such like when he was coortin', Lor' ! I'd pretty quick have given him the cold shoulder. I grant hes as good as gold, is Mr. Clifford ; but he knows no more about young women's fancies than a Jew knows about roast pork ; he'll maybe be wiser by an' by. Lor'! you can't roast a jint without practise." Sally had even begun to entertain a doubt about the warmth of Clifford's love; but when he at last arrived at the farm, he looked so radiantly happy that she felt ashamed of having wronged him. Ruth pinched her pale cheeks when she came downstairs in answer to her father's summons. Michael had come out into the hall to meet her, and he stood at the foot of the stairs. She let hint kiss her and put his arm round her for a moment without any sig of annoyance; she did not, however, linger with him, but passed on into the par- lor where her father sat anxiously looking for her. "Michael and I have settled it all, my dear," he said gravely ; "and now you must open the rector's parcel and see what he has been good enough to send you." Ruth looked at him gratefully. The parcel took some time to open, and when the Bible and Prayer -book it contained had been duly admired they had to 'De replaced in their numerous wrappings. Then there were inquiries to be made for Dorothy, and after that Ruth did not know what next to say. Once more her father came to her help ; he began a series of anecdotes about his sister, Mrs. Whishaw's wedding, and after these were exhausted, about his own. This last topic checked his sudden flow of gayety ; but after a short silence he began to ask Michael questions about the seaside place to which they were going' to -morrow. Ruth tried to be cheerful, but Michael felt that it was hard to expect gayety from either father or daughter on the eve of leav- ing their old home. He wished now that it had not been so arranged, but it was too late to alter plans. Soon after tea he rose to say good-bye, feeling that they would probably like to be together on this last evening. He went to the sofa and shook hands with Philip Bryant ; then he turned to the door, in hope that Ruth would follow him into the hall for leave taking. Ruth, however, saw no reason why she should not bid him good-bye before her father. She put her hand in his, but his warm clasp did not bring a flush to her cheek ; and to hie surprise she held up her face to be kissed, There was nothing to complain of, and yet he felt dissatisfied ; he did not care for this formal show of affection, and as he mounted his horse he told himself that Ruth might have given him a few minutes alone with her. Presently, as he rode along the quiet highroad, already whitened by the rising moon, he rebuked himself. Ruth knew that she would belong to him to -mor- row. She had been unwilling to rob her father of a moment of the time in which she was still entirely his. "Come here, darling," Bryant said, when he and Ruth were left alone. Kiss me, my Ruth. You have behaved nobly in this matter ; I pray God may bless you for your goodness, and he will, You are sure of a good husband, and a far better home than your poor ruined father could have given you, :mild." lie paused and wiped his eyes ; then in a more cheerful tone, "You will bless thin day, child; and before very long, either, you will bless your father for the part he took in bringing it about. • He looked at her wistfully, as if he hoped wen then for thanks, but Ruth's strength •s spent ; she smiled in answer, but she. said : mink yen have had discussion enough ''%they ; won't you go to bed earlier I, so that you may not be over - sow?" 1 that he was not tired, but and Ruth rang for Sally *.o his room. She bade then she abruptly left in the hall. out of the door e rnl5bing her f her chubby, ' she must `tined," take tit; need not speak of it to father: Sallyy 1 he's sad enough already at leaving, Good -night I'll look up all right when 1. Dome in," Sally Voce stared auspiciously out of her small eyes, as she said good -night to .Muss Bryant. What was the gal up to now ? the old woman wondered. She looked as white and miserable as a, body could look ; nob a scrap like a happy bride. "I shall just keep an eye on her," Sally thought; "and I've more than half a mind to tell Mr, Bryant." Meantime Ruth had gone up stairs: There was no hope of escape for her now, and her despair made her reckless. Only the thmtgiit of her father kept her from going out alone in the world. It seemed te. her that to walk on and on along the road till she dropped lifeless from exhaustion would be a far happier fate than to become Michael Clifford's wife while she still loved Reginald Bevington. She must love Reggy; she could not help it. She gave herself up to the thought of him, and when she reach- ed her room she changed the dress she wore for that blue gown which suited her so well, and which he had liked to see her in, She had never worn it since his last visit, but now she put it on with a sort of despairing tenderness. Then she passed quietly down the stairs, out at the front door, and along the narrow alley that led to the orchard. The side window of her father's room looked this way, and instinc- tively Ruth glanced in that direction. His light was out and she sighed with relief, for she hoped be was asleep. The orchard was bathed in moonlight, the foliage of the appletrees, as white as if the hoar frost lay on it, and the dark stems be- neath shone a bluish silver where the light touched them ; their quaint, gnarled arms looked goblin -shaped in the unwonted radiance—a cold. weird radiance, that chill- ed while it fascinated the eye.. Ruth was utterly heedless of observation as she made her way to the centre of the orchard, to the spot where little more than a year ago her lover had made her confess that she loved him, and had held her in his arms. " If I could have died then I If I could only have died !" she moaned, as she leaned against the rough bark of an old tree, heed- less of its rasping graze against her tender cheek ; she enjoyed the painful feeling ; it was in harmony with her thoughts. She would be pad to -night ; there was no one to let or hinder. It could harm no one if she gave free course to her sorrow, Something seemed to warn her that her sorrow was rebellions. Something faintly whispered that if she tried to cast out the thought of her young lover her mind would be clearer as to what she ought to do ; but'she harden- ed herself resolutely, even against the feeling that she was going to do a wrong in marrying Michael Clifford, The whisper died away and she was left to herself. She told herself that after to -morrow she must always lead a life of formal duty, and that she had a right to give herself up tonight to the wild, passionate longings that racked her. She forgot alike place and time ; she clasped her arms round the hoary trunk beside her, and wished that she could die. Yf she could die. If she could only be ly- ing beside her young mother in the church- yard 1 When at last Ruth turned to leave the orchard stars were fading out of sight ; the moon had been some while ago hidden by a bank of threatening cloud. A pale glimmer in the east told her that morning was on its way, and that her wedding -day had • dawn- ed. (TO BE OONTIFED. ) YOU MUST PAY $50 If You Want to Go and Earn a Living in Uncle "Land of the free." A Washington, despatch says :—The con- sideration of the tariff bill, which was begun by the Senate in committee of the whole on April 2, was at last completed and at 5. 45 Friday night tho bill was favorably re- ported to the Senate as amended. An amendment was offered by Mr. Gallinger (Republican, N. H.) to have the tariff bill go into effect as regards Canada - only upon the proclamation of the Presi- dent of the United States, such proclama- tion to be issued on condition that the Dominion of Canada enter into a commer- cial arrangement with the United States for a reduction of the duties levied against the products and manufactures of the United States. The amendment provided for the appointment of three commissioners to negotiate such a commercial arrangement. Mr. Gallingers, amendment was lost by 20 to 39, a strict party vote, the Populists voting with the Democrats. An amendment offered by Mr. Peffer,. which was gassed, provides for the levying of a tax of $50 per head on all aliens land- ing in the United States to engage in any industrial occupation. OUTLAW BLANKELY CAPTURED. The Highwayman Who Robbed E. C. Coaches in the Toils. Blankley, a Vancouver, B. C., despatch says :— a notorious outlaw, who has been holding up the Cariboo (B. C.) stage, has been captured, after a desperate struggle, by the provincial police. Blankely was traced by a gunny sack mask which he stole from a boarding house. He was independently wealthy from robbing Chine gold miners whom he compelled to work for him in lonely districts as his slaves, sometimes forcing them to break rocks without food or drink for 24 hours. Having served his apprenticeship with the Chinese he started out as a highwayman and robbed an express company of several thousand dollars in gold dust, Result of' a Policeman's Mistake. A regrettable mistake, that has led to tragic consequences, has been made by a member of the "police des moeurs" at Mar- seilles, France. tie arrested a respectable young dressmaker, aged 19 years, on sus- piciou of being an improper character. As it was not until she had been in the prison cells for a whole night among criminals that she succeeded in establishing the fact that she was of unblemished reputation, the occurrence preyed upon the young girl's mind. "I could net bear my parents to hear of my misfortune," she said more than once to a friend. In the end she committed suicide by suffocating herself with charcoal fumes, In a pathetic letter, written before' the deed way committed,' she said, " the police are the cause of my death." Gounod's widow, his' son and son-in-law aro preparing a memorial on the great com- poser, which will consist of the fragmentary manuscripts he left behind, some of them being of an autobiographical nature and a part of his correspondence. sce,ss 77.7 ,t(SeSiSs... for infants and Children. "pastoriaissemen adaptedto children that I recommend it AS suporlorto anyprescription known to me," H. A. Anouxn, M. D„ 111 So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of ' Contorta' is so universal and its merits so well lmown that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do not keep Castoria. within easy reach." Cerwos 1sIANevmm m, D k Cllty, )rate Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. Castoria cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, Eructation, Sills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes do g�ttion, Without injurious medication. 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