HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1899-1-27, Page 3JAN, 27, 1999.
TH.I13 BIYS$ELS POST.
Diamond Cut Diamond
OR,
THE ROUT OF THE ENEMY.
CHAPTER XIL-Continued.
Upstairs again, were the head and
,ander-accountants' offices, Mr. Halli-
.day's private room, which faced the
courtyard, and was prepared with a.
cheerful modern paper, and was alto-
gether humanized and friendly -look-
ing, inspiring no mysterious notions
whatever in the minds of the clerks,
and their sample rooms, and packing
rooms, filled up the remainder of the
house up to Lho furthermost corner of
its uppermost storey, It may be men-
tioned that to be sent for to Mr. Hill -
Belay's private mum, was of no more
moment to the young man who was
summoned, than to go to Mr. Philli.-
but, tate head accountant ; he ran up-
stairs with an equally light heart to
either, three steps at a time, bands in
his pocket's, and a subdued whistle up-
on his lips; it was a thing which was
constantly happening, and created no
disturbance whatever in anybody's
mind. But to be sent for to speak to
Mr. Dans, was a very different matter.
It very seldom happened, end when it
did, was looked upon as an event of n
portentous nature, all his companions
looking on with beating hearts and
awe-strleken countenanoes at the vic-
tim, who, with blanched cheeks, went
forth to meet his doom.
Upon a certain grey and somewhat
moist morning in the month of. May,
all the elerks at Dane and Trrchet's
were sitting together over their daily
duties, In the outer rooms the pens
scratched freely, wooden chairs scrap-
ed restlessly upon the wooden floor,
and subdued whispers of conversation
concerning contemplated "runs" for
next Saturday to St. Albans or to
Sevenoaks, were carrieit on surrepi-
tiously between ill-kempt heads bent
mysteriously together, under cover of
those customary sounds of daily toil.
In the second room, behind carefully
closed folding doors, life was taken in
on altoglherl easier fashion. The car-
peted floor gave forth no inharmoni-
ous scrapings, neither did the rapid
soratchings of pen interfere' to any
serious degree with the conversation,
whilst the presence of the morning
papers upon a side table gave evidence
that the three privileged young men
who occupied this room were in no
clanger of overtaxing their strength by
the assiduity of their labors. As a
matter of fact, the House might easily,
no doubt, have dispensed with their
services altogether, but for the fact
that the House was pre-eminently Con-
servative in tis customs. From lime
immemorial there had always been
three upper clerks, who wore sons of
gentlemen, upon the regular staff, and
so the habit was kept up, not se much
from any inherent merit in the system,
as from a due regard to the ancient
usages of the firm.
In older days, no doubt, the chairs
in the second room were reserved for
younger brothers and cousins, and for
the sons of widows whose husbands
had in some fashion been connected
with the partners. 1But for a long
time there hoot been a paucity of sons
to claim the doubtful privileges of the
position, and it was only within the
last year that a truly astonishing fact
had come to pass. The old names of
the firm were, by a curious coincidence,
reproduced in the upper clerks' of -
Doe. •
Geoffrey Dane had Peen transplant-
ed, at his father's request, from an
idle life at home, to one vacant stool,
whilst a young man of the name of
Albert Trichet had been suddenly rais-
ed from the outer offioe to fill another.
Trichet, ox Tricky, as his fellow clerks
tailed him, was in himself a mystery.
Whether or no he had any right to the
name he bore, was a matter which pos-
sibly Matthew Dane was alone aware
of, and sometimes, when he was spoken
of before his chief, the great man
would smile in a curious manner,
which led. beholders to suppose that he
knew more of the matter than he was
willing to say -possibly, he had at
any rate no legal right to it, or per-
haps his'eonneolion with the extinct
family of the, Lyons partner was so re-
mote as scarcely to, warrant the claim
at all.
Geoffrey and Miles Faulkner were
of opinion that Albert was a Triohet
only on his mother's side, and had
adopted the name as a means of bring-
ing himself into notice and favor.
Albert himself, it may be said, be-
lieved religiously in bits moral right
to the name, and with it, in a Divine
right of inheritance, which invested
him, in his own eyes, with a certain
amount of impor't'ance in the House,
He mune, he told his friends, p£ a side
branch, bet undoubtedly 01 a true
branch, of the old enmity, of which he
was Lha last survivor. When he wax-
ed confidential, he would sometimes
hint mysteriously that he had been
able once to be of service to Mr. Dano,
and that Mr. Dane was not likely ever
to forget it, There is no doubt that
he cherished hopes of being one day ad-
mitted into partnership, on the
strength both of this unknown service
and 0f his name.
It is hardly necessary to say that
these hopoa, which were as clear as
daylight to Matthew Dane, had never
beoh iu the smallest degree encourag-
ed by him, Never, in his wildest imag-
inings, had he hitherto contemplated
for a moment the very remotest possi-
bility of such a contingency as turn-
ing Albert Violet into a partner. If
be allowed him to retain the fiotiOn
of his name, it was in order• to award
ilia without making invidious prefer-
ences, according to the exact measure
of hos merits, but no more, Phlllibut,
the head. accountant, with his heritage
of four sons, had passed through the
great man's brain as a possible suoces-
ser to the fortunes of the house, but
never Albert Triohet. Ile was too good
a judge of human nature, and had too
genuine a reverence for the greathess
he represented, to fling it rashly into
the hands of the unworthy, or the ad-
venturer.
In person, Albert Trichet was small
and thin, he had dark hair, and small,
punning -looking eyes, his skin was
brown and. wrinkled, and he cultivated
❑ small black inoustache, carefully
waxed tie at the ends, and a atilt sinal-
jar black Luft qkon itis eniue welch
added to the foreign tweet he was de-
sirous of keeping up. Semeilmes, in-
deed, Albert even affected a slight
foreign aocent:, but this was only when
he was particularly desirous of tm-
pressing his origin upon others -any
affectation in speech is troublesome to
remember, and "Tricky" only remem-
bered it occasionally,
The third occupant of tbe room was,
in appearance, exceedingly different to
his comp❑nione. Ile was a large, fair
man, of almost Herculean proportions;
his broad shoulders and deeper chest:
were a source of envy and admiration
to bis friends, and the muscles of his
hugs arms were felt to be worthy of
all respect by his foes. It. is no doubt
one of the ineradicable primary in-
stincts of map that physiscal strength
always carries with it, per se, a large
amount of veneration. Not all the re-
fining influences of civilization, not all
the elevating principles of education
and mental superiority can obliterate
that blind and unreasoning homage
whioh mon accords to him whose bod-
ily strength surpasses that of his fel-
lows. There is a fascination about it;
no doubt: it appeals to the senses alone,
and to those lower attributes which
man shares with animals and not with
envie; but for alt Lhat, we most of
us unconsciously bow to it. Strength,
like beauty, is felt to be a gift of the
gods, and as such, an excellence to it-
self. To Miles Faulkner this great
gift of physical power had been freely
meted out. His frame was massive,
his force of endurance immeasurable;
he was as one of the giants of ancient
lore. Had his soul only been as fero-
cious moot warlike as his huge frame
was massive and well -knit, then, in-
deed, ho would have been a man to be
feared as well as admired.
But Providence had equalized mat-
ters. In disposition, Miles Faulkner
was as gentle and lamb -like as any
timid maiden. His heart was sett and
Lender, his smile sweet and shy. This
Samson of modern life would have died
rather than hurt a fly -and not the
bitterest gibe or the blackest injury to
himself could have drawn from him
more than a gentle expostulation or a
pitiful sails, Butif, in his presence,
a woman were insulted or a child or
an unhand ill-treated, then wait and
see what Miles would have to say to
it! There wore stories told as to his
method oe procedure under these cir-
cumstances, Once, it was said, he had
come across a crowd of drunken men
who were tormenting a poor old apple -
woman. One had taken her stall
away, others were tossing about her
wares in the muddy slum -others were
holding her by the arms pinioned back
against the wall of a house, Then
mane Faulkner like an avenging angel
upon the scene. There was not, of
course, u policeman to be seen, in the
dirty street; but Faulkner did not
wait for the arm of the law, his own
strong arm, was ready and prompt to
act. A crack to the right of him, a
crack to the left, a few straight "blows
bit out well from the shoulder, and it
was all over -the ruffian crew lay scat-
tered, groaning, or fled terrified in all
directions, whilst Miles was leading
the poor trembling old woman away to
her home, supporting her with his arm
as tenderly as though she had been his
own mother. Once again a tape was
told of some youths who were tortur-
ing a poor half-starved our by tying
ropes to its legs and dragging it head-
long down a stony road. There was a
canal, and a high briok wall handy, as
Milos Faulkner camp along and met
the inhuman masqueraders. One strong
grip of his fist behind one offender's
coat collar, another wrench at the arm
of the other, and both were disposed
of. One was lifted completely up over
the wall into a timber yard beyond,
and the other dropped quietly into the
canal ; while Miles untied the grind-
ing ropes round the poor dog's legs, and
carried him home to his own lodgings
under his arm.
These things ivere mutters of his-
tory, and "Trousers" -so called from
the galling rings upon his legs which
those cruel ropes had made -lives and
flourishes still to testify to the truth
of it. '
But to see Miles now, as he site bal-
ancing a paper knife betwixt the
thumb of one band and the forefinger
of the other, with a bland. smile upon
his broad rugged face, and one kindly
eye glittering behind his eyeglass
whilst the other blinks in pleasant
sympathy -to see him now, it would
not have been easy to credit him with
Mime grim tales of bloodshed and re-
venge.
Albert Trichet is holding forth to
his fellows, and they are both listening
to him attentively - Miles with; his
lazy pleasant smile -Geoffrey with
earnest brown eyes fixed upon him
leaning forward upon his elbow ancd
nibbling the end of his quill pen as he
listens.
"It's the first time in the course, of
all my experience that I've ever heard
of Mrs. Dane coming down to the
office," remarked Mlies, when a pause
in Trlchet's rapid story enabled drilla
putitt a word,
'Mrs. Dunel pooh -it was no more
Mrs. Dane than it was you. I tell
you this was a tall woman with a
slight figure, and as I opened the door
I saw her plainly, she was sitting by
the governor's table with her arms
stretched out, and I'm pretty sure, she
was crying, I heard her voice plainly
-her back was turned to me -and then
someone shut the floor on me and turn-
ed the key. Now would it have been
your aunt, Geoff, to bel, sitting in the
office like a culprit praying, and be-
seeching, and crying?"
"You were evidently not intended to
fray. see a tou think you m
1Don'kyhay dbe a
bit iltdiscreot in mentioning all this,
even to us?"
That's the very first Cipro in niy
life I've ever been aeoused oil indiscre-
tion!" cried 'Wald, turning round
somewhat sharply upon him, and titers
was a glitter of anger in his eyes; for
Albert Trichet hated Geoffrey in .the
secret: depths of his heart, with a hat-
red born of envy and fed upon rivalry.
"I don'l:l see that there is any breach
oC cpntidcnte where one 11,a4 net lzeen
pledged to secrecy-tbat was an of -e
fenslve remark, Geoffrey, and 1 think
you ought to apologiao. Don't you
think ecn Mlles?"
"! confess 1. don't see It. Geoffrey
only spoke his opinion; we can say
what we think in this room, Tricky,
without giving offence, and I'm cor-
taln Geoffrey meant none."
Faulkner earl lhie with his usual
placid smile; ha wus always the arbi-
trator and the peace -maker in any
dispute.
"1 meant uo offence, Tricky," said
Geoff,
"in that. case I withdraw my re-
mark," replied the outer; "but., Geoff,
flo you think it could have been. your
aunt?" ho pursued eagerly,
Geoffrey laughed outiigbt, Torclrit's
insatiable curiosity was often aspens
of amusement to his companions,
"T sbould say it was in Lhd highest
degree improbable," be replied, remem-
bering that be bad seen Mrs, Dane
and the Halliday girls home otter a
ball at three o'clock in the morning -
the girls fresh as daisies, and their un-
fortunate chaperon in the last stages
of fatigue and exhaustion.
Geoffrey felb absolutely certain that
morning, it could not very decidedly
have been his wife.
Then Geoffrey dipped his pen into
the ink and bent bis head over his
writing again. Be took very little in-
terest in Albert's speculation, although
something, he hardly knew what, had
arrested his attention at the beginning
of his story.
"What a fool I am," he said to him-
self. "Every time I hear a woman
mentioned nay thoughts fly to her. It
shows what a contemptible condition of
weakness I must still be in. ' She has
left me, and betrayed my affection.
Have I not determined to forget her, to
tread out her image from my fanny?
la's only a matter of lime after ail.
How pretty Angel looked last nigbtl
how well that soft white, dress suited
her and the crimson roses in her
bosom. No mysleries about that girl,
1'14 bo bound!" and then there flash-
ed buck suddenly into his memory
something that hose de Brefour had
said to him once. "'You will marry
one of Grose girls one day, ' When
Matthew Dane' makes up his mind to a
hing, it generally Lakes place," she
said, nod as he remembered them the
words camel back with a certain! shook
to him. What did she know, of Mat-
thew Dane and his character? At the
time she had put him oft with some
vague answer, and he had been satis-
fied, but now they came bade to him
with a certain significance. Was it
possible that she did know him, and
that intimately, that that vague quick-
ening at his heart at Trichet's des-
cription had been but a prescience of
the truth, and that she 'had been; in
this very house this very day? So near,
and yet he bad not! known it! Great
Heavens, was this possible?
Ho felt a sudden sense of suffocation,
the pen dropped from his fingers, and
he passed bis hand hurriedly across his
face.
Then the door opened, and the mess-
enger stood upon the threshold. Had
Madame de Brefour herself entered
the room, poor Geoffrey, who flattered
himself that for her harshness and
enmity to bim are had ,oast her fortb
from his heart, could hardly have
started more. a
Mr. Danes would be glad, if Mr. Tri-
chet would step into his room for a
moment, was the message, and Albert
rose quickly with a delightful sense of
importance to obey the summons.
Mr. Dane's room consisted of one in-
ner chamber, small and lit by a sky-
light, and an outer vestibule where
messengers and errand boys had occas-
ionally to wait for orders. There was
a boy waiting there now as Trichet
passed through to the holy of holies
within.
Mr. Dane laid down his pen as his
clerk entered, tend surveyed him for
the space of soma ten seconds in a
critical silence which was rather try-
ing to its objeot; it was as though he
were weighing in his own .mind whe-
ther or no the young man, was worthy
of his confidence. During the scru-
tiny Albert looked modestly down at
his own varnished boots.
"I think 0 was you whd opened' the
door this morning Trichet, was it note"
he said at length. ,
"Yes, 81T."
"You came with those credit ac-
counts of Bellamy's, didn't you?"
"Mr. Halliday had sent me, other-
wise-"
"Just so, quite right."
"I trust I did not intrude, Mr.
Dane?"
"Not at all. You saw, of coarse, that
I was engaged with a lady, Trichet?"
Just for half a seoon&Alberb hesita-
ted. Should he tell a lie, awl say be
bad nob seen? Fortunately for himself
he thought better of this idea, and
owned that he certainly had seen a
lady in the room.
Then Mr. Dane busied himself for a
few minutes amongst the papers on
his table. It was evident to Albert
that what he wee. about to sap was of
some importance.
'You rendered' me a greet service
once, Trichet."
"I was luoky indeed, Mr. Dano, to
have been able to help you," replied
Albert modestly, wondering more and
more whab all this preamble was lead-
ing to,
Do you remember all the ciroum-
oumstances of the ease?"
"1 think so, Mr. Dano."
"Let me refresh your memory. I had
reason to suspect Leon de Bretour,
some time head clerk in the Lyons
branch of the house, of some irregul-
arities in the conduct of the business.
1 entrusted you with a secret mission
to discover whether or no my suspic-
ions were correct, in a very humbly
position, you took your place' in the
Lyons office and watched matters for
me for the space of three months -re-
porting progress to me by letter every
day, Then the transfer of a large
sum of money baying been confided to
de. Brefour, you undertook to follow
him, and have him arrested shouldyou
see that he was not taking the money
to its proper destination, You, did so
follow him, with the result that yo
plainly proved that be was bound, not
to Vienna, but to New York; and as
clear a ease of fraudulent embezzle-
meet as has ever been mads out would
have been conclusively proved against
him, had not the engine of that train
in which• you and he, were both in run
off the line, and se precipitated the
thief to a doom more awful than! any
that the law could have brought upon
him. This is what Happened :la it
not?" nod, as Matthew Dande/ ended his
reletiee he ,gene his odes atekggiy and
fixedly upon his clerk. "You were in
that train, T'richel?" the words Gala
lime were no longer an assertion of
fact, they were an Interrogation.
"'Undoubtedly 1 wan in it, sir," re-
plied Trichet, with ussuranes. ' 1 was
in ono of the three last carriages of
the train, which snooped as by u
miracle from the Into of tile. front por-
tiun-elx enrriages followed the engine
off the lines, and wets duelled into a
thousand pieces at the bottom of the
embankment. Leon do Brefour was in
one of them -X had seen bink get in at
the station."
"Ahl Are you quite certain, Tri-
ehot, than de Brefour was killed?"
To Be Continued,
DREYFUS'S ISLAND HOME,
The <,rent Tenacity in 114 Neighborhood
That Cost Aetna 10,008
The island on which Dreyfus ia im-
prisoned, within sight of the South
American coast anti twenty-seven miles
from Cayenne, French Guiana, is
known as Devil's Poland, Ile du Diable,
while the three islands in the little
group are known together as Salva -
Lion Islands, Ile du Salute The contrast
between these names is certainly strik-
ing, and the way in which they be-
came applied Lo these Little rooks [s
interesting, and calls to mind one of
the greatest tragedies in colonization
that ever occurred.
The islands have considerable ver-
dure, but in the early days of French
Guiana they had a reputation for ster-
ility which they did not deserve, and on
this account no use was made of them.
They were named Iles du Diable, and
were thought to be of no value until
thousands of wretched immigrants
from Prance who were perishing among
the pestilential swamps on the Kourou
River fled to them in the hope that
they might escape death.
It was in 1783 that about 10,000 per-
sons from Alsace, Lorraine and Sain-
tongo were landed on the banks of the
Kourou. France was smarting under
Lhe humiliation of having been com-
pelled to cede Canada, to England, and
tbe bright idea omourred to some of
her public men to replace the lost ter-
ritory by dubbing Guiana " Equator-
ial
quatorial France'' and sending thither fleet
after fleet of colonists, A more cruelly
mismanaged enterprise was never
known. The men who aroused in
France enthusiasm for emigration knew
nothing whatever of the country to
which they invited 'the poor victims,
They recalled that in Canada the
French had greatly enjoyed the sport
of skating, and accordingly a large
supply of skates was sent with the col-
onists to tropical America. It was
thought, also, that in their leisure
hours they would require amusement
and so
, A COMPANY OF ACTORS,
was sent on one of the ships to build
a theatre in Equatorial Francs. Those
who provided these means of diversion,
however, forgot to send sufficient food
supplies, and no arrangements were
made for landing and housing the set-
tlers, The Chevalier ds Turgot, who
was appointed leader of the expedition,
took care to remain in Franoe.
The unhappy virilias of this blunder
began to perish by thousands, and they
thought that if they could only get
away from the plague spot where they
had landed they might have a chance
to live. They were told that the three
silands which they saw off shore were
the Iles du Diable, and that they were
worth nothing for human uses. " At
least," cried th'e poor unfortunates in
their desperation, 'they are swept by
ocean breezes. There is no poison in
the air among those islands. Wla wILI
call them the Iles du Salute for we
may hope that they will save us from
utter. extinction."
This is how it happened that the
three islands came to be known as
Salvation Islands and the name has
clung to them ever since. As a group
they are known by no other name. The
immigrants gathered up what was left
of the supply of provisions, and 8,800
men, women and children, all that were
left of the 13,000 who had landed on
the neighboring coast, crowded upon
the narrow, rocky area which could
comfortably hold only about 400 per-
sons. They landed on the islands with-
out shelter or clothing, and being ex-
posed to bad weather and having only
the scantiest supply of food their suf-
fering we great and moat of them
died on the rooks whioh they had hoped
would help to save their lives. A few
hundred of thein at last succeeded in
getting baok to the French port from
which they had sailed.
The Salvation Islands were not occu-
pied again until 1862, when the trans-
port of convicts to Guiana began. Saint
Joseph and the Ile Royal now form the
convfet station proper. On English
maps the threw islands are called the
Salut Islands, and the name Ile du Di-
able, originally extended over the
group, now applies only to the island
en which Dreyfas is a prisoner, and
which is occupied only by him and his
gunrdpi
The sland are of about ibe same
area. They form the apexes of a tri-
angle, and between them are deep
channels where large vessels may ride
at anchor or lie moored to the shore,
They have little wood or water, but
rain is stored in cisterns. The shores
are rocky, and here and there ,jut out
into promontories and cliffs. From
Devils Island Dreyfus may plainly see
the other two islands and the mainland,
only seven milds away.
IN THE WEATHER,, BUREAU,
The youthful prophet was plainly
mortified. He had just been appoint-
ed and hie first prediction had not boon
verified.
The reason we didn't have that storm,
he oxplaohecl earnestly -Hush I inter-
rupted his aged syerior. In this
business we never stop to apologize.
Just guess mail,
i�B 3Culplafs Ro
Sbe had often noticed him before, He
always sat in the same spot, with bow-
ed head and a crayon in bis hand. Be-
elde him were the ploturea he had
drawn, no were daubs, crude In oulor,
and sketchy La treatment, but real ar-
tistic gems, Strange that a man of
games should be roduoed to this,
Sha was young, beautlfol and weal-
thy. What could she have in common
with a street artist, however great his
talent? She did not like poverty, sor-
row or affliction, in any shape or form.
If it came prominently before her she
stepped aside with a shudder; .Lt un-
doubtedly had the power to ruffle nue
manlarily the surface of her lotus -eat-
ing existence.
To -day she had it better opportunity
of examining his work than she had
ever bad before, She had been passing
an idle hour in the park at a time not
consecrated to fashion, end as she
sauntered through the gate on her
homeward way her eyes rested upon
some of the artist's recently completed
sketches, and lingered there.
Five minutes• -tan minutes passed -
and still she remained chained to the
spot, her gaze fascinated by the scene
before her. It represented an old-fash-
ioned churchyard, with a little ivy -clad
church nestling among the trees. But
it was not upon the sacred edittee that
her eyes were riveted, but on a grave
which, from its beauty of design and
comparatively recent structure, stood
apart from the others, which were all
more or lees in different stages of
decay.
The artist, following his own poetio
fancy, had made three studies of the
grave as it appeared in summer, au-
tumn and winter, The first showed
it almost smoldered in flowers. Climb-
ing roses clambered over the base and
wound about the exquisitely carved fig -
urs of the angel, who stood erect with
outstretched wings and hands point-
ing to the skies. In the next sketch
no trace of the roses remained, but in
their place the tomb was strewn with
withered leaves, emblematic of the de-
cay of life's hopes. The third showed
the leafless branches of the trees, wav-
ing in ghostly fashion over the wind-
swept monument, which now stood
alone in stately grandeur, unhidden by
any earthly shroud. The gleaming fig-
ure of the angel, denuded of all earth's
favors, still pointed triumphantly up-
ward in reminder of the life everlast-
ing, which was still further exempli-
fied by the insurtption, " Till the Day
Break," which was carved in raised let-
ters on the pedestal.
The heart of the beautiful woman
was stirred with a strange emotion. She
had! not seen the original for ten long
years.
' You seem to know this part of the
country well,' she said, addressing the
artist, who .looked up startled as her
musical tones fall on his ear. " This
is certainly a faithful portraiture."
" It ought to be," he remarked, "the
design was executed by me."'
" By you?" she exclaimed, amazed.
"Surely not 1 That was the work of
a rising artist already famed to his
profession, not—"
"Not by a street picture maker who
craves your charity," he replied, with
a touch of bitterness. "You are right,
But strange as it may appear, 1, too,
was once honored and reenacted, but
I had the misfortune to be unfortunate.
It is a prime that the world never for-
gives','
He drew his sombrero still further
over his eyes, but not before she had
time to notice, that his handsome, hag-
gard features, bore traces of refine-
ment, and that his voice had a cultur-
ed ring. After all, it was none of her
business, she argued; yet, as she drop-
ped a coin in the box, her eyes still
rested lingeringly on the pictures.
I -I like these," sbe said slowly, un-
willingly almost it seemed. ' I know
this part of Cornwall well. What
would you charge for three duplicate
mines of the sketches?"
' My days of fixed prides are a thing
of the past,' the artist replied with oold
courtesy. ' The remuneration I would
leave entirely to you."
" Very well. Bring them next week
to this address. Wait, I will put an
hour, so that you may find me home."
She handed him the card, and with a
slight inclination passed on.
Gilbert Gerard's heart was filled with
bitterness, and -curious anomaly- the
more so when on examining the box
be found a bright gold piece among
the pence and halfpenoe, A previous
glance at the bit of pasteboard had
shown him that it bore the name of
Mrs, Vivian, and that the address was
Eaton Square,
Ho faintly remembered the name as
that of a brilliant beauty who had first
dazzled the fashionable world some ten
years ago, and be saw that she was
now in the zenith of her charms."
For the next few days he worked
hard at the sketches, though, of course,
not entirely deserting his old haunt,
and on the clay appointed ho took them
to Mrs. Vivian.
She received him graoiously enough,
but Gerard, who was sensitive to a
fault, winced at the shade of patron-
age, which he fancied he detected in
her manner,' He tbought she would at
least bestow a word of praiso upon his
work, which loft nothing to be elegize
ed from point of finish of finenees of
execution, ,But 10 this be was doomed
to disappointment, for she glanced at
them carelessly and laid. them aside.
Gerard felt a cold chill steal over
Min. Yet what could he expect 1 This
was a woman of the world, and her
emotions must necessarily bo of a tran-
sient nature -here to -day and gone to-
morrow. He thrust the 'closed envelope
she gave bim savagely into his breast
pocket, and did not open it until the
following morning. He certainly had
no reason to complain of want of gon-
orosity lee he fingered the notes, which
ty emeneed tY) AO. lie Kurd tit teem
long, buried In profound thought, then
a wild longing came over bim to es-
cape from bis shaokies and boy back
self-respect and all that made life
worth living.
He pondered long into the night, and
it was not until the first rosy streaks
of dawn Illumined the heavene that
he laid aside his brinrwood, and stretch -
Ing himself upon his camp -bedstead,
fell asleep. IIs was a man of impulse.
Once laving made up his mind to a
certain course he never wavered in its
fulfillment, and from henceforth his
' pitch " knew bim no more. That
week he modeled an exquisite portrait
of his fair patroness from memory, and
begged her acceptance of it.
Even the spoilt beauty felt a thrill
of pleasurable emotion as she noticed
the subtle flattery expressed in every
curve of Ibe medallion, She compared
it, favorably with portraits of herself
by two of the most eminent aeademi
clans, and felt that it would be un-
grateful not to give IlIr. Gerard sit -
t ings,
' Who could have imagined you were
such a genius?" tabs said laughingly,
some weeks later when the pioture was
nearing completion, Gerard, in his silk
blouse, and irreproachable get-up, with
all the paraphernalia of art surround-
ing him, end the aristocratic afr of
" Royal Kensington " permeating the
tasteful studio, seemed altogether a dif-
ferent order of being from Gerard the
street artist.
fie painted,on assiduously. Mrs. Viv-
ian glaneed at him curiously, her in-
terest in him growing deeper. She
wished to lift tbe veil of mystery which
surrounded this man, who was so dif-
ferent from the saateliites which re-
volved around her, and of whom she
grew so weary. There was something
grand in 1Ra air of stem self -repres-
sion, she thought, although she would
have wished him to be mora communi-
cative,
Will you think me very impertin-
ent, Mr. Gerard, if I mention some-
thing that bas been exercising my mind
for some time past ? It is this. On the
first day 1 made your acquaintance
through seeing the sketches you had
drawn of my father's grave, and ex-
pressed my surprise, you replied that
the design had been your own. Now,
on looking over some papers recently,
I found the original estimate, and the
artist's name was not Gerard. Were
you then working under a pseudonym?"
Yee," The reply came stern and
cold from Gibert Gerard's set lips, as
be laid down his brush and crossed
the room. "I was working under an
alias, but not a voluntary one. If you
will deign t0 listen I will give you,
in as few word as possible, an oat -
line of the history of my life. I would
not, at all events, like you to regard
me as an imposter."
" That I could never do; your work
speaks for haelt."
'It has never been allowed to till
now,' he replied gloomily, " When I
completed my art education I was a
young fellow without means, and
therefore gladly joined lots with a
sculptor who had already made a name
in the profession. We shared the same
studio, and in a very short time 1
learned the reason of nay so-called
friend's kindness and generosity. I,
like several others before me, was the
monkey employed to pull the chestnuts
out of the fire. He was a man of great
plausibility and succeeded by dint of
push in getting a good many orders.
Beyond this, and inscribing his name
on the finished work, his responsibil-
ity ceased. In the case of your father's
tomb I revolted and said that it should
be known as my work. Then ensued
or first quarrel, and I suggested that
we should part. The monument was
then all but finished. On the same day
I was driving a very fidgety mare,
when suddenly she bolted on the brow
of a hill, and I was pitched out on my
head. They carried me to a hospital,
concussion of the brain followed, and
for about a year my mind was a per-
fect blank, WVben I recovered I went
down to Cornwall, and, as I expected,
there stood the monument bearing the
usual signature. What oould I do?
My long illness had cost thou ands,
for it took the best men in London to
pull me together, and their charges
are not modest. Tithe coupled with an
unlucky investment, completed my mis-
fortunes. The few friends I had made
deserted me, as Iriencls are wont to
do, and genius, if it pleases you to dig-
nify my efforts by that name, is worse
than useless without money and with-
out influence. If I had pointed out
statues in public places as my work
I should have been openly ridiculed,
and people would bays said that my
mind bad not recovered its balance.
And so I drifted on to what you found
me, a man to whom existence was a
Being death. You rescued me from the
slough of despond, and my future is
yours to mold as you will. I desire no
better fate.'
He raised her hand to his lips, and
she made no resistance.
" Don't idealize mm, pray," she said,
with a little nervous laugh. " I don't
deserve it. I never aspire to be more
than a social butterfly, and as swell only
seek the sweetness of life and none of
its gall -that is to say, voluntarily."
" You altogether belie yourself," re-
turned Gerard, gravely. " You belong
to the really few fine natures which
are incapable of appreciating their own
nobility. At present it is incrusted
with an element of worldly cynicism
and hardness, which, however, lies only
on the surface and does not represent
your true self at all. Although you
expressed no word of sympathy at the
recital of my wrongs, I noticed the pal-
lor which spread over your face; that
was enough for me."
Mr's. Vivian blushed as she oast at
him one of her speaking upward
glances, " You are always making
w
ohderful discoveries," sbo remarked,
' I wonder tvbat the next one will be?'
"Shalt I tell you?" asked Gerard,
meantngly, gazing at her with all his
soul in his eyes.
But the beauty shook her head and
vouchsafed no reply. He must have en-
ligbtened her, however, on a subse-
quent oceaston, for some months later
society was eleotrified at the news
that the lovely Mrs. Vivian, at whose
feet princes bad languished in vain,
had married an obscure artist of whom
they had never even heard,
But Mrs, Gerard was sublimely in-
difterent to /amigo or blame. When a
more than usuaily venomous remark
readied her ears, she glanaecl et her
handsome husband and delivered her-
self of the following aphorism : " To
the discoverer belongs the benefit of
his discovery. If .I discovered your
Ream( you discovered my heart. I put
it to the world which wee the greater,
feat of the ewe I"
HEALTH.
THE HOME PHXSIOIAN.
Prompt action is often the seoret of
suction lu emergencies and aceldente.
Tain h
sihe Dryght 0f bleedo1a willpbild usuainplly a0 terrifandLy,e
its mother that her wilts forsake her,
and u call for the nearest' doctor, even
in simple oases, is the only apparent
course, while with tried remedies st
heed so emelt valuable time is leaved
and the little patient is relieved before
the doctor arrives, if, indeed, it is
found ne:misery to summon bim,
Surgical. cleanliness is the first re -
visite, and a good supply of tightly,
sealed anbisepties will be found inval-
uable. For cute a epeedy bath, with
carbolic acid in the water to wash
out and sterilize the wound against
foreign particles, should be followed by
a careful stanching with absorbent
cotton and then bound up, not too
tightly, with a winding of antiseptic
gauze, will be found the most efficuo-
ious, and will guard against feverish-
ness and the formation of a pus.
Most women rush for some favorite
salve which presumably aeba for all
oases. While it is true that many
ointments contain antiseptics and pre-
vent the dangers arising from the lay-
ing bare of the =saes and blood ves-
sels to foreign particles, a simple an-
tiseptic course will usually make a
cleaner healing, and nature. will net
better without the assistance of oils.
A bottle of antiseptio gauze should
be kept in every home. Open It only long
enough to cut off a piece large enough
for your immediate use, then tightly,
cork again. It will cost about 40e and
last indefinitely. Boracio acid- fierce
in name, but the mildest of ail antisep-
tics -is an invaluable home remedy,
serving in manifold ways, from baby's
first mouth wash to a dust for the
most critical of surgloal operations.
Flowers of sulphur thrown far back in-
to the throat will aheok a bad sore
throat, white sprays and douches of
tepid water, with the merest drop of
carbolic acid, will go far to prevent in-
fectious diseases which attaok tbe
mucous membranes oL the head and
throat.
A box of absorbent ootton Is far bet.
Ler than all the old linen which olds
fashioned housewives have in mind'
for accidents, because the cotton is
kept in the medioine ohest and no one
knows where the old lint is to be
found. A paper of safety pins does not
come amies in a collection for the home
physician as these are fugitive con-
veniences, in spite of our so frequent-
ly purchasing them. 01d lint and lin-
en are good assistants, but it will not
be much trouble to get a yard of good,
strong, unbleached muslin and tear off
a few strips about 2 inches wide, roll
up into tight, smooth rolls and secure
with two pin's, so that they are perfect-
ly stretched. There may be a time
when the need of a strong bandage wilt
be of pressing importance,
Every one has vaseline about the
house, but how many are careful to
keep it closed against the partioles
floating in tbe atmosphere? Essence
of peppermint, Jamaica ginger, spirits
of camphor, alcohol, French brandy,.
aromatic spirits of ammonia and arnioa
need no recommendation for their vas
-
Mus usefulness. The idea is to have
them always on hand. Quinine pills,
belladonna plasters, mustard loaves
ready to apply, Rochelle salts and flax-
seed are too well known not to be al-
ways ready. It will cost so little to
add a medicine dropper, a measuring
glass, small tweezers for glass and
splinters, a hot water bag and various
simple and inexpensive articles vehicl
are found of such great assistance in
illness and in case of accident. •
COLD IN THE HEAD.
A disagreeable and disfiguring cold
in the head may be greatly relieved in
one night by the following precaution:
Have hot water convenient at the side
of year bed, an alcohol' lamp will help
you; take a good-sized piece of old
flannel and dip it .in the water as hot
as oan be borne, and lay on your nose
and forehead. A large 'Turkish towel
over this will help retain the heat.
Leave the towel on while renewing the
hot water, and the longer the clothe
aro held on the better. When soothing
sleep ,finally eomos bind a flannel
bandage over the upper part of the
nose and forehead all night, and you
will be surprised at the change in your
feelings and appearance the next day.
If you are not better, remain indoors
next day, with a lighter band over
your forehead, being careful not to ex-
pose yourself to draughts in the mean -
CULT' KINDNESS.
Kindness is more Chan amiability, Lb
implies thoughtfulness and heart oul-
Lure. 1Xttny Christian people are
brusque and severe without thought
that they commit wrong, but they have
failed to cultivate the most beautiful
grace of kindness. It is not enough td
try not to be unkind, for unless one
seeks to be kind he has fallen short of
duty. No one can be as good as he
should be without striving to cultivate
kindliness of spirit. "Charity suffer-
eth long and is kind." Kindness dis-
arms prejudice and hate and awakens
confidence, overcomes evil with good.
Kindness makes the gloomy smile,
sweetens bitter thoughts, strengthens
the faint and leads the sinful from
paths of stn. Of all things in life,
which we any regret, kindness is one
that causes no repeelance, but in re-
trospect there is no more bitter pang.
than remembrance of kind things we
might or should have said, but left un-
said, with deeds undone. Wordsworth
says:
That best portion of a good man's life,
His little nameless, unremembered acts
of kindness and of lovo.
to all departments of life, ohurch
and home, kindness La n lubriehnt
which makes the hardest task easy and.
the heaviest burden light
Married his servant -girl? Wasn't
that a come -down for him?
No ; It was s iii 1 for her -+from menial
to hymeneal.