HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1895-1-31, Page 6T B EXETER TINE S
AN ' STORY.
1
must prove worthy of my own self•ooufi-
deuoo.
I am ixob a Muting young person—indeed,
I paver faiuted in my life ; but last night I
was afraid that I was going to faint, and I
ad to struggle against a swimming to Iny
head, and a paiuful sense of lightness
hioh made me totter a little as. I turned
to Denmark Street.
I saw the minrber I was in soafch of from
opposite side of the way. There was
ailor'a workshop which I had read
iu the newspaper. The windows
vide open, and half a dozen men were
in a glare of gas. I oould not help.
they !coked like lost souls in
nium—the bare, dusty room, the
heat,on this summer night,wheu
we shining on all the flowery
'llo wy islands near Lamford,
the world were so lovely for
•
1?;` a works op, and
ebeen one of those men who
ether's murderer go singing
tairs, fresh from his 'deed of
k the idea of that, and the
aced my nerves, for 1 felt
ng as I crossed the road and
ie door of the fatal house.
ed for some minutes before anyone
o the door, though I knocked a see -
on. tun,. Then a woman appeared, an
elderly woman, who looked at ire curious-
ly1 told her I wanted a lodging—a respect.
able room at seven shillings a week ; but
site answered rather sharply that she only
let lodgiugs to men—why prefer men, I
wonder 9—and she was going to shut the
door in my face, when. I grew desperate,
and stopped her by laying my hand upou
her arm.
"There was a murder eight years ago in
this house,"I said. "Let me see the room
where it was done, and I'll give you seven
shillings."
I would as soon have offered her a sover-
eign, but I had got the sum of seven shill-
ings in my mind in connection with the
rent of a lodging, and I offered her that
amount unthinkingly. It was enough,
however, for she snapped at my offer.
" Come in," she said, looking at me very
hard and very suspiciously all the time.
"That's a curious fancy of yours. You
haven't anything to do with the murderer,
I hope?"
" No ! not no 1" I cried.
"I'm glad of that," said she. "Ah, he
was a devil, that man—a smooth -faced,
smooth-tongued devil. The sight of him
and the sound of his voice makes me sick
and faint whenever I call hint to mind. H e
put a blight upon me and on my house.
I've never been the same woman since.
I •asked her what the map was like,
finding that she was willing to talk, and
she described his appearance in a great'
many words,but her words did not conjure
up any distinct image.
He was good looking and lie was young.
She did not take hint for much over thirty.
He was dark, with fine black eyes, and he
wore a moustache, but no . beard- He
talked English, hat he spoke like a for-
eigner. This was all I could gather from
her.
She wenb slowly up the stairs bee
fore me, with a paraifine lamp in her
hand, and she flung open the door of the
back room on the second floor and told me
to go in, holding up the lamp on a level
with her head se that I might see the•room.
"I've kept it just as it was that day,"
she said. "I've never had a good let in
all the eight years—not a permanency.
there's a blight upon the room; but people
come and look at it, as it might be you,
and give me a trifle."
I looked at the room—a square, common -
looking room, with very shabby furniture,
and a single window looking out upon
roofs and ohimney-stacks. All looked
dark and dreary—the light of the flaring
lamp only made the squalid furniture seem
more squalid. Oh, what a scene to meet
those dying eyes 1 What a horror in that
one agonizing moment to feel himself
caught like a snared bird, trapped in such
a hole as this 1 " How did he look?"
where did you find him lying ?" I asked ;
and then she described that ghaatly eight,
showing me the spot where our dear one
lay, gloating over every detail.
I could have shrieked with agony as I
listened to her. She had put down the
lamp on the table, and she clawed my wrist
with ter skinny fingers as she pointed with
the other hand to the floor, and she acted
over all the scene, " as it night
be here, as it might be there," and
she dwelt upon the look of the dead
face when they lifted him from the floor
and laid him on that wretched bed until
my heart seemed to turn to stone.
I could not speak. I just let her go on.
I had so wanted to know all—all that the
commonest lips could tell --all, from any
source, however cruel. I let her talk on to
her heart's content, like a ghoul as she was;
and. then I went with her down -stairs
somehow, quite numbed and cold, as if I
had been in a nightmare dream, and I went
out into the dark street.
I made up my mind to walk home. I felt
the air and exercise would give me my only
chance of getting calm after the agony of
that quarter of vn hour. I walked on binde
ly for some distance, first in one street and
then in another, going out of my way, I
believe, yet vaguely making for the west.
I had lost all sense of time, and when I
heard a church clock strike an counted the
strokes I was surprised to find that it was
only ten.
lb was almost immediately after this that
I came into a long ebabby.looking street,
whinh looked so empty and desolate thatl
felt as much alone in it as if I had been
walking in one of our Berkshire lanes.
There was only one lighted spot in the
street, and that looked like a hotel or a
restaurant. -
It was a restaurant, and as I got nearer
on the opposite side of the street I naw the
name :
iced
ice, and, after
to my health, recom-
to try Ayer's Pills. 1 had little
1n these or any other medicine, but
floneiuded, at last, to take his advice and try
a box. Before I had used them all, I was
*ery Much better, and two boxes cured me.
Y am now 80 years old; but I believe that
ie It had not been for Ayer's Pills, I should
have been in my grave long ago. I buy 6
run every year, which make 210 boxes up
this time, and I would no more be with-
out them than without bread."—B. H.
Ingraham, Rockland, Me.
AYER'S PiLLS
Prepared by Dr. J. 0. Ayer &. Co.,Lowell, Masa.
Every Dose Effective
•
THEE-TETER TIMES.
Ispnblianed'everyThnrsdav moron';,
TI MES STEAM PRINTING HOUSE
lifstin-street,nearly Fitton's Jewetery
tore,Exeter,Ont.,by John White & Sons,Pro•
9rietors.
RATES or ADVERTISING
F)rstinsertion, peril nee ..... ...... —mem Dents
'tech subseque.itiusertrou ,per line......Scente,
To insure insertion, advertisements should
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OnrJOl3 x'RINTING DEP'RTMENTis one
elite largest and best equipped in the County
PiRuron,All work entrusted to us willreeeere
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Decsions Regarding News-
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irresponsible for payment.
2 If a person orders his paper discontinued
hemust pay all arrears or the publisher may
ontinuo tosend it until the payment is made,
lid then collect the whole amoant, whether
e paper is taken from the office or not.
8 In suits for aabsoripiions, the suit may be
natituted in the place where the paper is pub
iahed, although the subscriber may resids
hundreds of =lea away.
. The courts have deoided that refusing to
e.knewspapers or,teriolteets Prom Sae pads.
file. or re.nJring and 101Yt1; t1d n a.ie uu
seprlma faoia evide ace of inteutiunel fraad
NEWS/ E. 1v v;;'—'-•- - -
ett cure the worst eases Ner
Nervous that
Lost Vigor and
Failing Manhood; restores the
weakness of body or mind caused
by over -work, or the errors or oz.
ceases of youth. This Remedy ab-
solutely cures the most obstinate cases when all other
TREAra ENTS have failed even to relieveold by drug-
gists at $1. per package, or six for $5, or sent by mail on
receipt of price by addressing Tr'i' .7 4. MOS MEDICINE
DO.. Thrown Ont. W -
Sold at Brownine'a Drug Store, Exeter,
BEANS
aRfrAD-MAKER'a
wmtausw
YEI Rita re orir S,1Tisr;,OTOv
4,0
Electric Thunderstorms.
What produces the electricity in a
bhunderatorm ? This question, of perennial
interest both to the scientific man and the
ordinary enquirer, can scarcely be said to
be completely and satisfactorily solved. It
has, however, generally been supposed that
the big drops in a thunder shower were the
result of electrification, for working an
electrical machine in a fog causes the min-
ute drops to adhere together and form
larger ones.
But now come developments that render
it probable that the big drops are not re-
"�'"\ sults, but causes, at Least of part of the
v , electricity manifested. When a drop
l splashes on a metal plate the latter becomes
electrified, and it is now believed that
every much drop carries a double layer of
electricity, ptsitive and negative.
On the drop these neutralize each other,
but the splash dissipates ono and so renders
the other evident. The same thing would
happe• if two drops splashed against each
other in the air, as must often be the case,
and hence, perhaps, by the aggregation of
millions of such splashes, comes the
lightning bolt that rends the oak or shatters
the spire.
Common Matches.
The big -headed, stumpy fusees used by
smokere, and which will sizzle and keep
afire is the windiest weather, are simply
common matches with a composition of the
Blow -fire kind. The mixture in the big
oval head is porous and is made of charcoal,
saltpeter, powdered glees, gum and some,
bweet•soented barks—all of it tipped with
the igniting composition. Those matches
are dipped repeatedly until the proper
amount of Composition is put do the head
of the shore; splint. The wax matches, or
ves tam are made bydrawingcote or. threads
through molted stearine end paraffin. The
wax hardens' rapidly on the threads, and is
lien rounded nicely by being drawn through
i, ,I. t.
leis Jo re, sto 1 late. 'The wax threads
�t1
nee out to the required length and are then
dipped.
W ilIiam Cobbett worked on hie father's
arm:
thought of
countenances I had seen
:galleries—ef this or that ,ludas,
or that murderer—the malignant face
with dull -red hair ; the swarthy race with
close -cut black hair ; the rugged features
and beetling brow ; the low, scarcely
human forehead, under ragged, tangled
locks; all of the villainous and inhuman that
painters have ever conceived ; yet I could
Bever piotute to myself the form and face
of the man who killed my father.
Night after night I have lain awakes.
thinking of him. My father has ween
much more often in my thoughts since we
Dame to London than he was while we
were at peaceful River Lawn, where I used
to lie awake to hear the nightingales in
the warm .lune nights, and where the
sound of the river always soothed me like
a lullaby. Here all the gayety and splendor,
the operas and playa, the music and danc-
ing, and talk and laughter, are not enough
to make me forget that in this city my
father was murdered. If there were no
such wilderness as Leaden, he might be
living and among us to -day. He might be
ours for many a year to come.
I want to see the house in which my
father died. I want to see the room in
which he was found lying stabbed to
death.
I have told Cyril my feelings on this point,
but he refuses to take me to see the house,
or even the street in which my father died.
He can not understand me. lie can not
understand that this dreadful sensation of
being haunted nightly by the vision of the
deed and the room might be lessened by fa-
milarity with the actual scene, however
painful the sight of that horrible place
might be.
I have entreated him to take me there,but
he steadfastly refuses, so I have made up
my mind to go there without him. Mother
and. her husband are going to a grand dinner
this evening, to meet royalties ; Cyril has
gone to Oxford to.dine with the Bullendon
Club. I shall have the evening auto myself,
and Ishall go to Deumark Street alone.
I suppose it is rather an awful thing for a
girl of my age to go out after eight o'clock,
and I have never been in the streets of
London by myself at any hour ; but I don't
care to take even my good Broomfield, for
she would moat Iikely make as many objec-
tions as Cyril, and I might fail in getting
inside the house I want to see. I would
rather depend entirely upon my own clever-
ness.
I know the number of the street ; I
know the position of the room ; I know
that it is a street - of lodging -houses, so I
can very easily make believe to be in search
of lodgings. I shall wait till the carriage
has driven off with mother and Uncle
Ambrose, and then 1 shall send down word
to the butter that 1 have a headache and
wont't dine.
1 know where Uncle Ambrose leaves the
latchkey whit. h he always uses when he
comes in from v walk, so I can let myself
in as gnietly a + let myself out.
I shell put .n my very plainest cloth
gown, and a ¢tial by little garden -hat, 8o as
to look like a work -girl, or anything com-
mon or ineignihcant.
I have seen that dreadful room—a com-
monplace, ill -furnished room in a shabby
lodging -house, and the sight of it will
haunt me to my dying day. Cyril was
right and I was wrong. It was a senseless
thing to do and I ought to have left it un-
done.
Everything happened as I hoped. The
pretended headache did me good service. I
wee, mistress of my time and actions before
nine o'clock. - I slipped off my tea -gown
and dressed myself for the character of a
young woman in search of a respectable
lodging at seven shillings a week. I
suppose that is about the price work girls
a
PThe evening was gray and dull, not dark,
but thick and heavy, with an oppressive
feeling in the atmosphere as of stored -up
heat and dust—each a different atmosphere
from the cool, dewy air in the garden at
Lam ford on a midsummer night.
1 had studied the map of London, and
had carefully made out my way to Denmark
Street, but seeing a benevolent -looking old
cabman, with a red nose, creeping along
olose to the curb in Grosvenor Street, I
hailed him, and told him to drive me to St.
Gilea's Church.
He drew up in front of a church in a
shabby -looking street, where there were
shops still open, though it was after nine
o'clock.I gave him half a crown, which
he did not seem to think enough.
" Do you want me to Wait for you,
mise ?" he asked. " You won't get another
cab in this neighborhood."
I said no, for 1 was shaken dreadfully by
that one ride, and I felt it would be tempt -
big Providence to let the red -nosed eel).
man drive me again.
My heart was beating so violently that
I hardly knew what I was doing : but I
began telling myself to he calm and collect.
eI, and to remember that I was there in
opposition to (:yril's aivice, and that I
RE5TAIIRANT Dt7 P,AVILLION.
I was walking slowly, meaning to ask the
first policeman I met to put mein the right
way to Grosvenor square, and not oaring
even if 1 went out of my way, for the cool
air and the movement were helping me to
reoover my calmness, when three men came
pouring out of the lighted door -way, talk-
ing and laughing in a boisterous kind
of way that made foe think they were
tipsy. One of them saw me, and oalled out
something to hie friends in l+renoh, to
which the others replied in the same
language ; but I could not understand a
word they said. I hurried my ateps, and
tried to get out of their reach, but the man
who had spoken first came across the road
and began to talk to me, in English this
time, asking me where I was going, and
whether I would go to a music -hall with
him and his friends.
I cannot record the horrid tone and
manner of the snail. I haste to rolnontber
lits vulgar ineolenco. I hate to think that
them are auoh men in the world, and that
poor, hard-working , gide, euoh as I was
supposed to be, are exposed to the insol-
ence of such oreateres, and have such bate -
fol worda forced upon their. ears as they go
quiotlyhomefromtheir work. The wretoh
caught hold of my arm and urged me to go
with him to some place which ho called
The Orford,, while hie friends, who apoke
only in French, laughed boisterously, and
talked of my affeoted prudery.
1 was furious. I shook myself free from
the wretch's touch, and 1 looked up and
down the street in deapair for some one
Who would help me.
"Row dare yon speak to Hie or touch mo,
you odious creature ? I cried ; and thou
he took off his hat in mocking aoknowledg-
ment of an imaginary compliment. I saw
in the light of the lamp close above us that
he had an olive oomplexion,like an Italian's,
and black ayes, and T remembered with a
shudder the woman'a description half an
hour before.
There must be thousands of such men
among the exiles who come to London for
refuge ; yet I shall never see such a fade
without reoalling the unknown image of
my father's murderer.
He pretended to think that my anger
was only assumed, and went on with his
hateful compliments and offers of supper
and champagne at The Oxford, and I saw
in my despair that there was not a mortal
in eight to whom I could appeal for pro-
tection.
The door of the restaurant stood
open, and I could sea lights and ser-
vants moving about inside. I had half a
mind to rush across the street and go
iu at the open door, where no doubt
some one would have taken my part against
these horrid men. But my courage failed
me in the next instant. It would have been
such a wild thing to do, and how could I
have faced half a dozen astonished wait-
ers in the glare of that gaslit vestibule ?
I looked down the street again, and, this
time there was a. promise of reacuo in the
shape of a hansom cab coming along rapid=
ly, with two great flaming, lamps, like a
dragon with fiery eyes, the good dragon
that comes to rescue forlorn damsels—not
to eat them.
I ran into the road and hailed the driver,
without stopping to see it the cab was
empty. While 1 waved my hand in frantic
appeal—how ashamed of myself I feel to-
day when I have to write about it in this
cold-blooded journal—somebody inside the
cab dashed his stick up through the little
trap-door in the roof just as frantically. The
driver pulled up sharp, and a big, middle-
aged man got out of the cab and came to
me. -
How thankful I felt that he was so big
and so middle-aged 1 I felt the utmost
confidence in him, almost as if he h'td been
my uncle.
" Is there anything the matter 9" he
asked, looking at my persecutors.
" Yea," I answered, " one of these man
has been horribly rude to me. They have
all been rude ; but that one"—I pointed to
my worst tormeutor—" has been the most
offensive."
"He will not be offensive any more, un-
less he wants to be thoroughly well
kicked," said my friend; and he looked as
if he would like to do it.
"Please don't take any trouble about
him," I said ; "he is tipsy, I believe, and
he is really not worth•kicking. He wouldn't
know anything about it afterward, so it
would be wasted trouble. If you would
oblige me so far as to give me your cab -
you would be able to get another one very
soon, I suppose—I should be deeply grate-
•ful."
"My cab is quite at your service. Where
shall I tell the mac to drive you?"
" To Grosvenor Square. My name is
Hatrell—Miss Hatrell."
bines pity thein, poor creatures 1 when I
etre the long, long letters, many of them eo
well written, consigned to the wastepaper
basket, and potholes tronlo of these piteous
letters may have a good deal of truth in
them,
" Did that foreign person tell a oq his
name ?" I asked the butler; as I went into
the dining -ronin.
" No, ma'am."
"And had he been here before today?"
" Yes, ma'am, Re oalled yesterday
evening to inquire if there was any answer
to his lettere; He sent two lettersby a
oommissionnaire-.-oue in the morning, and
ouein the afternoon."'
What an importunate 'wretch the man
must bo ! My blood runs cold at the theught
that he may mean, to tell my step -father
about having seen me walking along in
Church Street late at night, He might
make up any story and I should have no
witness against him; for I do not know the
name of my good middle-aged friend in the
cab, If he dare to slander me I must tell
.Efac1eALnbrgaa the erliciletentle'and brave -
it out. He will be shocked, no doubt, at
the idea of my prowling abort London
secretly after dark; but be can nob refuse'
to forgive ire when I tell him of the
insurmountable impulse which took me to
that, fatal house.
Cyril and 1 went to Hurlingham this
afternoon with mother, and saw a polo
matoh, and then strolled about the lawn
and looked at the river together, while
mother sat on the terrace in front of the
house talking tq her friends. It seems to
me sometimes as if all the women in London
must bo her friends,she is so beset wherever
we go, Thepublic life, the constant
movements,and perpetually changing faces
do not suit me half so well as River Lawn
end its placid insipidity. My books, my
tiano, an occasional single at tennis with
Beatrice Reardon, my boat, my garden.
Yes, I love Berkshire and I believe I hate
London.
The .day was lovely; Hurlingham was
lovely; Cyril was full of the kindest atten-
tions; and yet I was not happy. Apart
from my uncomfortable apprehension about
the man called Duverdier, I felt as if
something had gone wrong in my life,
That odious man has forced himself into
my step -father's presence, after ever so
many repul es, _and I am utterly mystified
by his aadacity and by my step -father's
reticence.
Cyril and I were at the opera last night
with mother. Mother had promised to
show herself, if it were for only half an
hour, at a recept.on at the Foreign Office,
where she is likely to meet all the people
she, knows and does not care a straw about.
So we;droppedher in at Whitehall, looking
superb in pale -gray brocade, lighted up
with sapphire's and diamonds, and with her
beautiful throat rising up out of a ruff of
ostrich feathers ; and then the carriage
took us home, with instructions to goback
for mother in half an hour. Uncle Am-
brose had been complaining of headache
all day, and was not well enough to go to
either opera or party.
The door was opened, and I was just
going in when a man seetned to spring out
of the darkness, pushed himself in front of
Cyril, who was following Hie, and almost
leaped into the house at my side. There
were two men in the hall; bat foot -men are
stupid, solemn creatures, trained to move
slowly and to hold their chins in the air,
and t;either of those two powdered dolts
had the sense to stop him. He walked
straight to Uncle Ambrose's study, at the
back o3 the hall, opened the door, and went
in. I waited breathlessly, expecting to see
him, flung out into the hall again in the
next moment; but he shut the door behind
him, and the door remained shut. Uncle
Ambrose was evidently giving him an
interview. - -
Cyril was furious.
I repeated the name very distinctly, for
I wanted my unknown friend to under-
stand that I was not ashamed of myself,
although he found me in such a disagree-
able position.
Two of my assailiants had sneaked off
already, with a laugh, and an air of being
quite at their ease; but my chief tormentor
stood as if he were glued to the pavement,
staring at me in a drill and stupid way,
while I got into the cab, and shook hands
gratefully with my nameless friend. He
hal been noisy enough a few minutes
before, when he was doubtless in the lo-
quacious stage of intoxication; but now he
seemed to have passed into a silent and
stony stage which was like absolute
stupefaction.
One of his friends turned to look after
him when they had gone some little way
ahead.
"Hole, Duverdier ! Vona to to planter la
toute la nuit?" be called. out.
So my tormentor's name is Duverdier?
' I stopped the cabman et the corner of
the square, paid him to his perfect satisfac-
tion, for I lust emptied the silver in my
porte-monnaie into his hand, and walked
quietly to our own door, where I let myself
in like a thief in the night.
CHAPTER XVIIL
DAISY'S DIARY.
How full of strange coincidences this life
is 1 It is a small thing, of course, but still
it has vexed me and worried me more than
I can say. This morning, the second
after my wretched adventure in Church
Street, I heard a most hatefully familiar
voice in the hall as I came down -stairs
from the second floor just before lunch.
I stopped on the first -floor landing and
listened to the voice below. I had not a
shadow of doubt as to the owner of that
hateful voice, even before I looked over
the balustrade and saw that odious wretch
standing in the bright light from the south
window, talking to the butler. It was the
man who tormented me with his insolent
invitation to supper at The Oxford, the
man whom his companions oalled Duver-
dier. He was there iu the morning sun-
shine—a creature who should only have
been visible at night and in the shabbiest
pieces.
"Has, Mr. Arden had my lettere?" he
asked, ihis foreign English.
"Yes, sir they have been given to him."
" Three letters?"
"Yes, sir."
" Two yesterday, and one this morn-
ing?"
"Yes, sir. They were all given to him."
"And there is no answer. Was that
Mr. Arden's message ?"
" Yes, sir: My master told me to1eIl
you there was no answer."
"And he declines to see nee?"'
" Yes, sir."
" Very good."
He said " very good" with a face like a
thunder -cloud. He lingered a little,
brushing hie hat with his coat cuff, in an
agitated manner, and looking about him
angrily, first at one door then at another,as
if he hoped to see Miele Ambrose appear
at one of them. At last he turned on his
heel abruptly and went out withou
t another
word. Isupose
he is one of the great
army of begging letter -writers who assail
both mother tend 'Uncle Ambrose. 1 some.
"Do you know that fellow? a he asked
the footmen.
"He have been here before, sir, arstin'
for answers to his letters, three or four, or
I should say as much as five or six times
within the week," one of the men stated
solemnly, as if he had been in a witness.
box.
"Do you know his name, or who and
what he is?"
"I do not, sir, Ieastways only that he's a
foreigner."
Cyril walked over to the door of the study
ope.ed it, and went in. I waited with my
heart beating violently, expecting to be
called in and questioned about my adven-,
ture in Church Street. Cyril came back to
the hall in a minute or two.
" My father seems to know the fellow,
and wishes to hear his grievance, whatever
it is," he told me, with a vexed air. " I
don't like the look of that man, and I told
my father how he had pushed past me and
rue/led into the house. However, my
father choose to hear his story, and 1 can
say nothing. Come up to the divan, Daisy;
I don't want to be out of the way while
that fellow is on the premises."
The divan is a little room on the half
flight, fitted up in Mauresque style, and
only divided from the landing by a parti-
tion partly stained glass and partly carved
sandal -wood from' Persia. It is a capital
nook for gossip or flirtation, when we have
a party the divan is always in ✓;rest re.
quest. It is lighted by the Oriei-t.tl lamp,
which is in perfect harmony with the de-
coration, but which gives a very indiffer.
ent light.
Cyril ordered strawberries and lemonade
to be sent up to this retreat, and we sat
there for half an hour, pretending to talk
about the opera, but both of ue obviously
preoccupied and uncomfortable, and both
of us listening for the opening of the
study door below. I know we talked
in hushed voices, and never withdrew
our attention from what was going on
downstairs. We oould see the hall door
through the open door of the divan, at the
end of the pieta beyond the shallow flight
of stairs.
"I hate mysteries," Cyril said at lust,
in the midst of a languid debate about
the merits and demerits of the new
tenor.
I got up, and Cyril and I went on to
the lauding, and stood there looking over
the balustrade into the hall until the door
opened, and his father's voice called to
the footman, "See that man out;" where-
upon the man opened the great hall door,
and the midnight visitor went out just a
minute or so before the carriage stopped
and mother alighted.
She came into the hall in her long white
cloak with its downy ostrich trimming,
such a lovely, gracious figure, the gems
bit her rich brown hair flashing in the
lamplight. Uucle Ambrose came out of
his den to receive her,
"Were. you amused, dearest?" he `asked.
"Was it a pleasant party?"
'"It was a brilliant one, at any rate," she
answered. "I met all the people we know,
ande, few stare and foreign orders that I
don't know. How white you look, Ain.
brose 1 You ought hot be up so late.
What was the use of staying away from the
opera and the reception only to tiro your-
self at home 1"
"I have not been tiring myself, except
With a dull book by a clever man, What
Children Cry for Pitther''s Gestate;
pains seine olevor Hien take to be du11, by
the way '1 1 have been reaping as much as
I oan rest, dear, I ampast that golden age
When Sloop oomee ab will."
"But you had a late visitor. Who was.
the man who went out of the house just
before I arrived ?" -
"An old acquaintance—that le to say, a
book -binder who worked for the years ago,
who has the common complaint of old ao-
gtiaintancos--impeon niotleueaL
"And you helped him, of course?"
"I heard Itis story, and have promised to
consider it."
But if he is in immediate want.—"
"My dearest, I have no opinion of the
man's oharaoter, and I am doubtful wheth.
er I ought to believe his story. He forced
an entrance into this house in an unwar-
rantable manner, and it would have served
him right had I sent for a policeman and
given hint in charge. However, he pleads
sore diatress as an exouse.for his audacity,
and 1 let him tell me his story. I shall do
nothing for him unless I get some confirm-
ation of his statement trom a respectable
quarter."
Cyril and I were leaning overthe
balustrade, straining our ears to listen.
A book -binder; that impertinent wretch
is a book -binder. And what a tisane of
falsehoods his story of distress must be,
when I saw him reeling out of a restaurant
with his boon companions less than a
week ago.
I auppose the wretch has said nothing•
about his meeting with me. He may not
have associated the name of Hatrell with
his old employer, Mr. Arden; and yet a
moan of that kind, hanging about the house
as he has done, would be likely to•find out
all about us. He passed close to me as he
pushed his way into the hall; but it is just
possible he did not recognize inc in my
very different style of dress.
There was nothing in my step-father'e.
manner to indicate agitation or irritation
of any kind. I never heard his melodious
voice calmer, or his accents more measured,
than when he explained the midnight visit
to my mother in the hall.
"The mountain has brought forth a
mouse," said Cyril, gayly.
Mother came upstairs in the next minute,
so I wished Cyril good -night and went up
to her dressing -room with her to hear all
about the party, while her maid took off
her jewels and finery.
July 15th.—We are at home once more
in the dear old rooms and in the lovely old
garden, and I feel almost as if my sixteenth
birthday were still a grand event in the
future—feel almost as young as I felt in the
old .childish days before mother's marriage,
and our Ite.han travels, and our London
gayeties, and all the experiences that have
made me a woman of the world. I feel
almost as I felt et sixteen, almost, bub
not quite, as happy as I felt then. There
is no use in keeping a diary unless one is
sternly truthful, and stern truth compels
me to acknowledge to this book that I am
not so happy as 'f was before mother's
marriage and my own engagement to
Cyril.
I pray God every morning and every
night that I may grow fonder of Cyril—
that I may learn to adore him, between
now and our wedding -day. An engaged
girl once told me that she did not care .a
straw for • her fiance when she accepted
hint. She only thought that it would be
nice to be married and have a house of her
own, and she Sled visions of her trousseau,
and her mother had promised to give her
half her diamonds when she married—all
sorts of selfish considerations—but by the
time she had been engaged three months
she felt that she could beg her bread bare-
foot through the world with the mar who
was,to be her husband. That was her
way of putting it.
Cyril is clever, generous minded, good
looking. He is a fine tennis -player; he
sculls splendidly. A girl ought to find it
easy to adore him. What, can I want in a
lover it I am not satitfied with him ? Do
I expect to marry a demi-god ?
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
41r' �;;-•ew
M� r>x-�,s
,041111141,4111A,„
MINI illlllll
This
This is the iiew shortening or
cooking fat which is so fast taking
the place of lard. It is an entirely
new food product composed of
clarified cotton seed oil and re- -
finad beef suet. You can see that.
How to get a""Sunlight" Picture.
Send 25 "Sunlight" Soap wrapper,
(wrapper bearing the words "Why Does a
W oman Look Old Sooner Than a Vlan") to
Lever Bros., Ltd., 43 Scott St., Toronto,
and you will receive by posta prettypictures
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home. The soap is the best in the market
and it will only cost le. postage to send in
the wrappers, if you leave the ends open.
Write your address carefully. -
A Foreign Marriage. .
Mrs. Pelt—"Did she oetch a nobleman?"
Mrs. Eiyde—"Oh, no."
Mrs. Pelt—"Ah, one of the landed gen-
try ?"
Mrs. Hyde—"I presume so. At least,
he was after she landed him."
When Baby ,'aa stns, we gave her Castello.
When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria.
When she became )Eiss, she clung to easterly...
When she had Children, she gave them Castcria
" I was standing at my front door one
bitter day in Winter, when a little ragged
chap came up to the and asked me for an
order of admission. To test him, I pretend-
ed to be rather rough with him.
KENDALL'S
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TH E
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DLUnronee, L. N.V., Jan. 18,1804.
Dr. B. J. KENDALL Co.
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$2 worth of Kendall's Spavin Cure.
Yours truly, p� W. S. M.tns.
sDlc
KENDAL.'
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snstns tom. 16,1893.
Dr. Dr. 13..1. II'urtner.n Co. „ Dec. 1
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Trico 1141 per Dottie.
Fpr Salo by all Druggists, or address
Dr. D. ,.T. Iz7i'.1v7I A..D.D COJ111,Alfira
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Sold in 3 and 5 pound pails,
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Made only by
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MONTREAL.
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MIENy