HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1893-6-9, Page 2HIS HEIRGSS;
OH, LOYE IS ,A.LWAYS TIIE SAME,
CHAPTER XII,
"'Nell met," she soya, airily,
°' That of courae,lt you allow it," retnrns
Ilea gallantly.
Yet you scarcely seemed overjoyed to
anew moment eince, smiles site in her swift,
curious fashion,
"Natural enough. You startled no.
Atye the bye, 'nearly ran you down, didn't
I'7" carelessly but mutant/11y.
- "Very nosey."
a a"Not a nice thing to be rau to earth, eh?"
eeyo Staines, meaningiy. "But you see I
was in a hurry, and didn't expect you
would have taken up a position in this
solitary spot."
"You teemed in hot haste, indeed," re-
turns she. "Quite as if you were running
away from something. What was it?"
glancing at hin from under her sleepy lids.
'A second disappointment?"
"Madame," replies he deliberately, "you
opeak in parables. A second disappoint-
mentimplies o first. You allude to—?"
Whatever half -formed plan madame had
in her head, taken shape and color now.
She leans forward, elevates her shoulders,
and makes a little graceful gesture toward
the hal where Statues has just had his ins
terview with Lady Branksmere,
"Madame is beautiful 1" she whispers,
throwing out her exquisitely shaped hands
'with an expressive movement. ' Ah 1 be-
lieve it or not as t}'ou will—I have indeed
Zeit sorry for you, ' she murmurs.
"'.A fellow fooling,'" quotes Staines,
with an -ugly sneer, 1. 'makes no wondrous
lied.' My disappointment, as you oall it,
was hardly greater than yours. ,Seven
years Is a long tine in which to strive only
to be at last undone !"
Her color lades. She steps beck involun-
tarily, and a dangerous light creeps into her
stark eyes.
"Come 1 that was hardly fair of me,"
laughs Staines, in a conciliatory way. "But
it was your own fault—you led me up to it,
you know. Sorry if I appeared unohival-
sous, but you would have it, you know."
"You mean—?" exclaims me.dame, forc-
ing the words from between her clinched
• teeth.
"Fallow ! Nothing to make you look so
tragical," returns Staines, moving a step or
-Savo. Madame following, lays a firm ,hand
utpon his arin,
"Yon do not leave this," she declares,
Sercely, "until you have explained what it
was you meant."
" That Branksmere was as good a parts
as there is in England," retorts he, con-
temptuously. "Take it then as you insist
.ten it."
`You know nothing—nothing," cries she,
with an angry sob.
" Why should we quarrel over the fact
that we have each made a discovery of the
ether's secret? Let us be comrades rather.
A common grievance -such as ours," with a
short Iaugh, "should have the effect of
meeting between us a link of sympathy.
He holds out his hand to her as though
desirous at once of forging this link, but
madame declines to see it.
"Think," he whispers, impressively,
"whether I ran be of no service to you in
this matter ?"
" in what way, sir ?"
°' That I leevc to your woman's wit to an-
swer," returns he. You can't make up
your mind, then? Perhaps you think I
overestimate my powers of usefulness."
"No, I dont doubt you there," She
Sifts her head and looks at him steadily.
"And yet you shrink—you hesitate. I
"ell you there is no need for compunction,
Theyareless than nothing to each other,"
says the tempter, slowly.
" It is of him alone, I think," she breaks
in, vehemently. "As for her, let her go.
11 owe her nothing but hatred fora studied
zourse of insolence since the first hour we
met. Bat there is his happiness to be con-
sidered."
"Pshaw 1" scornfully. " Is it not open
to all the world to read between the lines?
It eves a caprice—a, mere passing fauey on
lis part—a desire for a pretty tace, of whieh
the has already tired. The fancy, the ca-
price, are dead.'
" I am not so sure of that, If I were—
she pauses.
' You would feel more free to act? Why,
look into it, as it stands. Would a man
who loved, neglect the object of that love,
as- he does her ? Would he deliberately and
openly betray in a thousand ways his pref-
erence for another !"
" There is no suoh preference as that of
whioh you hint," returns she gloomily.
" There you wrong -yourself. Yet,
greeting you are right does that make it
any the easier for you to prove his love for
hher2' When does he seek her side? When
does a tender glance, a kindly word pass
'between them? Has he even foroed a smile
bor her ?"
"Ivo—And yet—" she hesitates, grows
anddenly silent, and Staines plays his
crump card.
".Had he even the last lingering remnants
ole wotucutlove for her he says with
told contempt, "would he have invited me
here?"
"He was ignorant of your former rela-
tions with her. He knew nothing," eriee
she, eagerly, "Nothing 1 1 have it from
kis own lips,"
" Then he lied to you," declares Staines,
woolly. For he had the. whole story from
my lips, before ever I accepted his invita-
Ston, Some absurdly quixotic impulse
alrove me at that moment to mention it."
"Is that the truth ?" aeke she, in a ter-
aibly eager way.
If you doubt me, ask him," returns he
boldly,
She sighs deeply, and throws up her head
as if suffocating, and he knows he ban won
the day, and gained an ally who will—who
shall be -of incalculable service to him in
the Iodising of the abominable end he has in
view.
"You love her I" elm make, hurriedly.
I have not asked you if you love him,"
:retorts he, coldly.
°' True." She winos a little.
"It is then a boned between us, to help
each other when we eon?" demands he,
"A bond—yes, Bat remember I pledge
myself to nothing," answers she, thought-
fully.
CHAPTER XIII.
Meanwhile Muriel, going slowly mp the
otaire to the dowager's room, feels as though
her feet aro olad with leaden wings, That
last a00asmtion of his had smitten her core,
Idad she wronged him? Ilacl she betrayed ?
'i'Iet mind Wanders back in a true lineto
the old days, when she had strayed with
him through monde and bowerfug treats,
. days when tale had thought of him as the
one man in all - the world for her. If she
had then ehrunk frorn a life et poverty,
aweatenod even though it Might belove
Why, so bad be ! gby '
.Slid had quailed indeed when She thought
THE BRUSSELS POST.
of years filled with sordid care, but it woe
he who had carefully pointed out to her
those mires. No earneet pleading had been
used to give Iter strength to endure for Clear
love's sake alone, Even that letter, so re-
plete with angry reproach, had contained
no entreaty to oast aside her allegienoe to
Lord Branksmere, and fling herself with
honest abandonment into her lover's arms.
Some hidden strain of knowledge whispers
to her that she would not now be Lady
Branksmere had Staines been stancher,
more persistent in his wooing ; that there
might have been o moment when she would
have counted the world well lost for what
is now loot to her forever
At this point in her meditations Muriel
drops into a low onshioned seat in one of the
stairoaso windows and laughs aloud, softly
but with on indescribable Idea:mese. A
steady barrier should, and must, be placed
between her and Staines forever; Branks-
mere should be that barrier I
And now ? She rises wearily trent her
seat in the great painted window, and goes
on her unwilling way to the dowager's
apartments. Now, she has neither lover's
nor hssband'a love 1
She shivers a little as she reaohes the
heavy hanging curtain that hides the en.
trance to the corridor that leads not only
to the dowager's apartments, but to those
of Mine. Von Thirsk. She stops short.
Beyond her lies the other curtain that hides
the large door that leads to madame's own
rooms ; those rooms that no One may enter
save madtme herself, and—
She draws a heavy breath. A sense of
suffocation weighs her down. It is the first
time she has been here since that afternoon
when lire. Stout had escorted her through
the upper parts of the house in the charac-
ter of cicerone. She rouses herself, how-
ever, and turning resolutely toward old
Lady Branksmere's room, knocks gently at
the door.
It is opened to her by a tall, gaunt worn•
an, with a peculiarly bloodless face, and
eyes deeply set and colorless,
She drops back a step or so in respectful
fashion as Muriel enters, and then returns
to her station beside the bed.
The room is setni•lighted, the curtains be-
ing closely drawn, a sullen fire is burning in
the huge grate, and a blank cat, gaunt as
Mrs. Brookes --who hod opened the door
for leleriel—sits upon the hearth -rug, As
Muriel advances, this brute turns its head
slowly round and spits at her in a malevo-
lent fashion.
" Be quiet, then, my beauty, my sweet-
heart 1" she murmurs, absurdly, to the
creature.
The dull flames emit 0 duller Light;
through the closed curtains a feeble ray is
struggling ; Muriel, peering anxiously into
this obscurity, finds at last the occupant of
the room who has desired her presence.
In a huge four-poster of enormous dimen-
sions, lies a figure, a mere shell of our poor
humanity ! A wizened, aged, witch -like
face looks out from the pillows ; a fade that
but for the eyes might well be mistaken for
a piece of parchment.
Two gaunt hands, delicately formed, bit
inhuman in aspect, are resting on the faded
but gorgeous counterpane. The lips fail to
conceal the toothless gums within ; and the
scant and hoary locks, are bound by a
funeral band of black velvet that serves to
heighten the ghastliness of the half -living
picture.
The dowager seems unaware of her pres.
encs until Mrs. Brookes, stooping over her,
lays her hand upon her shoulder,
"It is Lady Branksmere, madam. She
has come to see you—at your request,"
" Ay—ay. I know, i ant eek of her
name," returns the old woman, querulously,
"There are so matey of them, Aly Lady
Branksmere of today—and she of yester-
day—and she of the day before 1 ll'hy don't
some of 'em die—eh?"
" I don't know, madam. Time will do
it, perhaps," returns the attendant, doubt.
fully.
Slaws count time," goarrelo the miser-
able wreck, vacantly. "It has uothiva g to
do with us. Who spoke of my Lady
Branksmere? Was it you, Brookes? Yon
should know better. She will never be my
lady now--no—neverl"
" Hush, madame—"
"But what of her—the little one? She
lead ought to have been my lady, but wasn't.
What of her, Brookes ? Is she coming to
mo? Tell me, woman, or I'll strike you?"
" Not to -day, madam," soothingly.
"She ehottld, then. Memory as quick
within me, All, all comes bank to me to.
day, Seven year's ago, Brookes. Seven
years. My poor little boy 1 my poor fel-
Iso' 1'
Your ladyship will excuse her," en-
treats Mrs. Brookes, turning to Muriel with
a sedate courtesy, "It is not one of madam's
good days."
' What is that you are saying, Brookes?"
cries the dowager, shrilly. "And who is
that lurking behind the curteins? Let 'em
stand forward? D'ye hear? What are they
hiding for, els?" Here, catching sight of
Muriel, memory again takes fire, and she
knows her, Old habits return to her—old
dignity,
" You do an old woman much honor. I
am very pleased eo see you, my dear," she
says proudly but sweetly. " Pray be seat.
ed, Brookes 1 a chair for my Lady Brenta -
mere, It is a gracious action of yours, my
dear, to grant the dying a few minutes
out of your young life 1"
Here, alas 1 the vital spark grows dull
again, and returns to its sad fliokering that
is but the prelude of its death. The touch
of strength the worn-outbrainhad reoeived
dies away, and stooping forward the old
woman twines he bony fingers round
Muriel's white wrist and breaks into futile
mumblin s.
"Have you seen her yob? The little
thing in her white gown . she asks.
" Such a pretty creature. It isn't you I'm
talking of, you will know, because you are
Lady Branksmere, and she isn't. She can't
be now, they tell me. But she was the
prettiest little soul, and all in white—in
White."
"Recollect youreelf, madam 1" whispers
MM. Brookes, severely.
"Go away, Brookes. Go away, 1 say,
Nobody understands mebut Thekla. Where
is Thekle ? Ah ! the knows the little ono I
Thekla knows 1—also will tell you 1" ole
whispers, leaning toward ibluriel, who has
grown very pale. The old woman's aerostat
words --Cho evident. desire of the attendant
to silence icer, have suggested to her strong
confirmation of doubts that are already at
work within her. Seven years ago madame
had said I Seven years ago was Madame
von Thirsk a pale, slender maiden? Did
she wear a white gown? Was it she
who should have been Lady Branksmere in
her--•Muriel's place.
A eenaation of faintnes creeps_ over her
as site sits still and motionless beside the
four-poster, hearing but net heeding the
idle wanderings of itO ocseupant,
A longing to escape—to got away from
her immediate surrouudmgs, to be alone—
takes possession of her, She rime precipt•
tately to her feet.
" Stay, stay 1' cries the dowager, " You
haven't told tree yet if you have seen her,
She, who ought to be you, yon know 1
But it is laev en years ago. Seven sears I
No, Brookes," testily, ' I will not be sit.
ent; I will oak her, iVhy should she not
be told ? It is a sad story, and my Lady
Branksmere here seems to me to have a
tenderiteert. Ah 1 it would melts harder
heart than hers to hear the story of
the little one, Such love—such devotion
and all for naught, Now is two late 1 You,
need bear no malice, my dear ; it is, indeed,
too late, as you know. Nothing could
make het Lady Branksnmore [now I Yet
that is what she craves—what she cries for
night and day. Sometimes I hear bar in
the dead of eight, I don't ask you if
you see her now 1" she whispers, wildly
clutching et Muriel's arm, "I can see for
myself, Look I Look, I say, She is there,
There ! in her little white frock, u'ith—
What is that, Brookes? What is that?"
shouts she violently. ".It is blood—his
blood ? D'ye see the red spots upon her
gown ? They are his—his, I tell you—his
heart's blood ! Drops drawn from leis piero-
ed breast i Oh Arthur 1 Oh, my pretty
boy I"
" You mast not laced her, my lady ; she
is not herself to -day," say's Airs. Brookes
hurriedly. " My late lor'd's death made a
terrible impression upon her, She secs
visions at times, or fauciee she does. There
is not truth in anything site says ! 1 pray
you remetnber that, modem 1 He was hef
favorite grandson, you see, and his sadden
death, caused by such awful means, unsettl.
ed her poor brain,"
"1 know—I understand," murmured
Muriel, in astifled tone. Releasing herself
gently, from the dowager's grasp, she rush-
es from the room.
CHAPTER XIV.
Finds ng the hall door lying hospitably
open he enters the house without the usual
rat -tat and traverses the hall without meet-
ing a soul
The library is reached and found empty,
The schoolroom ie invaded with a sinking
heart; but Isere, too, desolation reigns.
Good gracious 1 Where aro they? What
on earth has happened? The piano is lying
open, and Mr, Paulyn, seating himself upon
the nmusic•stoollooks mettrafttily down upon
the yellow keys.
" I hope the new importation isn't play-
ingthe very dooce with 'en all," he sclilo-
quizes, plaintively ; it looks bad. No yells;
no skirmishing. Not as much as a cushion
aimed at a fellow's head from behind a half -
opened door. It does look poor 1 Itis one
of two things—either they have all suc-
cumbed to the plague of the cholera, or
Billy's wife is an out -and -outer, " Well,
I'll solve the riddle at once. - If any of then
are still in the land of the Living, this will
fetch 'em,"
He lays violent hands upon the long-suf•
faring instrument, whereupon thunders up-
rise from it fulfilled with that touching
melody commonly known as " Tommy
Dodd," Mr. Bellew, making his usual en•
trance into the house by means of the
school -room window, is so staggered by it
that he parses midway, with. one foot on
the balcony still and one on the carpet inside.
And Margery darts like a swallow into the
old room and literally flings herself into
the musician's arms,
" Dear old thing 1" she cries. " To think
you've really come 1 Oh, Tommy. /say,
how nice it is to see you again I"
" Why, there you are, Margery, old girl
—and bow are you 1" returns else Honorable
Tommy. "Pretty well, eh ? Bearing up, eh ?
That's right, Never say die is your motto,
1
spitakit,e "ft ; and let ane tell you I admire your
r
You ought to," says Margery, gayly.
"Yon have lead plenty of time to study it.
What brought you down ab this ungodly
period? You, who are so fond of your 'Pall
118.` 1' ?"
I'm not sure, unless it was to see you,"
returns NIr, Paulyn, gallantly. "I met
Branksmere one day in Piccadilly, and he
seized hold.of me as though he was a police.
men. ' Come Monger me,' said he, and I
hadn't much of an excuse ready, so I
owned."
" It doesn't matter a bit how or why
you deme, so long as you aro here," declares
Margery, lovingly.
Ali this you may be sure is creating pure
rapture in the bosom of the young man
who is still standing transfixed between the
room and the balcony. His eyes are glib•
tering by this time his brow is black 1 He
brings the leg that has been lagging on the
balcony into the room, with a resounding
thud that rousse the two at the piano,
"There you are, Curzon," els says quite
carelessly—
" Ah, Bellew I Glad to see you. How
are you, old chap? asks Paulyn.
" Quite well thank you." In a freezing
bonehatre, dand, with a glance full of deadliest
' That's all right 1 So am 1," declares
Mr. Paulyn, cheerfully, "Oh, by Jove,
here's Augelion,"
Like a pale lilyahestands, erect, slender,
half child, half woman. Mr. Paulyn, who
is doubtless a person of good taste, seems
delighted with her, and kisses her wnrnmly
in eonsinly fashion,
Well, she hasn't starved you at all
events. You were always slight, you know,"
Bays Tommy. " Indeed, I might even go
farther and say she has fattened you,"
oontinned Tommy,holding bank the twins,
at arms' length.
" Well, how does she treat you ?'' asks
the Honorable Tommy, sinking hist voice to
a mysterious whisper. " Is eke support-
able, or the very devil, eh? I'm afraid it's
the latter. But you'll have to bear up, you
know. ' A frog he would a•wooing go,
whether his mother would have it or no I
Old song 1 'Member it? That's your case
with Billy, don't you see 2"
"But—"begins Margery,'eagerly,
" Yes, of mune, I quite understand all
that. Beastly hard work upon you
all. But what I sky ie--donb give in to her
too much 1 Hold up your hoade. March
Give yourselves airs 1 There's a lot of you,
and only one of her, and I don't see why
the crowd shouldn't win the day."
" There isn't any day to win," declarers
Angelica, lifting her penciled brows. "it's
won already."
"Then more Shame for yon—a poor
epirlted lot 1" exclaims Mr. Paulyn scorn-
fully. "To be cot upon at the very first
assault. "I'm disgusted with you all, I
believed there 1150 some sort of go amonget
you, and now? That kind is she, eh 2"
with a startling drop from the highfalutin
to the ordinary gossipy taste,
"She? Who, on earth, Tommy, are you
alluding to 2" .mks Mergery, oath some
asperity.
" Why, to Mrs. Daryl, of course," very
justly aggrieved, Who did you think2
"How often have 1 warned you
that your inooherenoy will be your'
ruins Fromthe way you spoke One might
quite as easily believe you were talking of.
the man in 11101110011 as of Dilly's wile.' •
" If you exert your brein a little bit, you
will remember that I said ' she,' " retorts
Mr. Paulyn, who is now deeply hummed.
And I never Meares of a woman in the
moon. Did you?"
" Here she is 1" cry the twins at this
moment in abreath, All turn, in a slightly
awed moaner, to the door.
CHAPTER XV.
After all it is only Mrs. Billy herself who
meets their expectant gaze. Her bonny
face le wreathed in smiles, and she accosts
Margery in quite a railiaut Mahlon,
" See here, Meg, I've got a real good
thing to—" but at this the stops dead short.
Site stares inquiringly ,at Tommy, who is
generously returning the attention. At last
Mr. Billy gives tray. She seniles broadly.
" You don't help me, Meg," she says with
a little laugh, " The situation, I have no
doubt, is full of interest, 'put as yet I am
rather in the dark. Is this another of your
young men ?"
" Certainly not," she says. "Itis only
Tommy, Tommy Paulyn ; you know,"
" Why, yea, certainly," says Mra. Billy,
and holding out to him a friendly hated.
" 11-Imsn did you donne, eh? I seem to have
known you for oenturiee, the girls talk 00
much about you."
" They would, you knots'—" he says,
giving hes shirt -collar a conceited pall.
They are so fond of me,"
" Isn't it true, Angelica," persists Apr,
Paulyn. " Don't you love me'?'
" Have I said so, Tommy ?" asks she in
her quaint, quakerish fashion.
" A thousand times," replies he.
"I will not contradict you. I will leave
it to your conscience 1" says the slim, tall,
childish little thing,
" You leave it fn safe quarters, then,"
declares the irrepressible Tommy, " You
have named as umpire in this case about. the
best thing of Its kind. Don't mind her, Mrs.
Daryl, she adores me, Come over here,
Angelica, and sit beside me. I have a whole
budget of news to open to you."
" No, I will not,' Saye Angelica. " You
have not said what's true—I will not go
near you,"
Then you'll be sorry preaently," says
\lr, Paulyn. When I'm gone 1 I shall
only be here fora week or so at the furthest,
and who knows when you will see me
again ! I'm a bird of passage, yon know ;
here to -day and gone—"
The word " to•morrow" is squealed out
in a stifled tone, the old sofa having given
way beneath hint and buried him amongst
its ruins. Heels up the Honorable Tommy
disappears from view.
" Wall, I'm blo--, Ole, confound 111"
gasps he. " What the dooce is the good of
a sofa like that, eh ? Regular man -trap,
what? I'l1 take jolly good care I don't
trust myself to its tender enemies again."
"You have taken care," cries Margery,
who is roaring with laughter. " firs in
bits, poor old thing. And such an old
friend aa it was, too 1 You ought to be
ashamed of yourself, Tommy."
" \S ell, I'm not," says Tommy, and then
he' laughs time loudest of therm all at his
mishap,
"Are you staying at Branksmere?'
asks Dick. " Muriel said something about
your coning."
"Yes, at Branksmere. Fine old place.
By the bye," dancing round him confiden-
tially, "I never saw anything so awful as
Muriel is looking 1 Like a handsome ghost.
White as paper, don't you know, and her
eyes as big as a pond,"
"Elegant desoription !" murmurs Diok,
admiringly. " Been getting it up, Tom-
my 1"
" She regular frightened me, I can tell
you, I used to be spoony about that girl,"
confesses Mr. Paulyn in a loud, clear voice.
" I loved her like—like—well, like any-
thing, you know ; and now to find her so
pale and—and, still, rather took it out of
me. Somebody ought to see to 5, you
know. Brankenmere must be treating her
very queer to bring her to such a pees. I
can't get her out of any head," deolares
Mr. Paulyn, earnestly. " Kept dreamin' of
her all last night."
" You're in love 'with her still," laughs
Mrs. Billy, gayly ; " that's what's time mat-
ter with you,"
"Not a bit of it,"s ye Tommy, stoutly.
"Only she worries me. She's as good as my
sister, ,man know. In foot, all the girls
here make up the only idea of home I've
ever known: And I'm certain Muriel—"
"Is quiet happy," interrupts Margery.
" Why, what silly notion have you got
into your head now ? Is Muriel never to
have a headache ? never to look pale ? Is she
molt a favorite of the gods that all the ills
of life are to be held back from her ?"
"What I want to know is," said Mr.
Paulyn " why she married Branksmere.
He's a good old chap enough, and I really
like him, but there was that other fellow
Staines ; he's staying there now, by the
way—domed bad taste of him, I think—
well 1 she was going to marry him awhile
ago, eb ?"
"I'smt jolly glad site didn't," says Dick.
"So am I, supplements Angelica,
" Dancing -master sort of a snan I"
" She married Branksmere because she
Mose to do so," declares Margery,slowly.
"Who shall arrange for her her reasons ?"
" Not I, for one,' says Tommy. " But
" You will understand that there are to
be no 'buts' in this ease," interrupts Mar-
gery. " I will not have Muriel's motives
publicly canvassed. Do you hear 1"
"Alt 1 I've discovered it," ories Mrs.
Billy at this mmcertain moment,
" What?" asks Angelica, eagerly.
" VS hat R was I wee going to say to Meg
when I first came into the room. It escaped
me been, but now I have it—recaptured.
Margery, aword evitlt you."
As for Tommy, he ie left upon the field'
in a distinctlyinjnred frame of mind.
"Itis an odd thing if I can't diecuas the
girls' well-being amongst themselves," he
protests, indignantly. " It is all very fine
their pretending to be so independent,
but I'm their cousin, and a sort of a guar-
dian, by Jove. In fent, I feel as if they
were all flung upon my shoulders now,
somehow. Billy is, of course, too much
token up with his late purchase to see any-
thing beyond his nose, and Peter" (mildly)
"is about the biggeee fool 1 know l"
At this one of the twins bursts into a
fit of inextinguishable laughter.
"That ohild'e not well," he says slowly.
"Somebody had better look to it. If that
severe paroxysm continues much longer, I
wouldn't anewer for the oonsequeb00s,"
" What be it, May, Blanche ?" asks Dick,
who generally addresses moll of the twins
by both their names,
" Pat her on the bank, eomebody, mildly
but firmly," entreats Mr. Paulyn generally,
"Give It her strong. Now titan, say poor
child, Better oh 2 Well enoaglt to ex-
plain ?"
"It's only this," cries May, "theewhet
you ,jest now said of Peter is madly what
bo said of yen yesterday, that you wore
the ' biggeet fool unhung,' That was how
he, punt."
"Ali 1 ten improvement an my little
epeeeh," dcolares Mr, Paudyu, unmoved.
"Peter, if e, little wanting, so still a spOaI-
ally nice follow, and to think me the big.
gest fool unhung only }proves the troth of
my opinion of him. You agree with me,
Bellow?" dragging into the foreground the
morose young man among the wiudew'
cartaine.
"Do I?" said he, in a tone that wares
hir, Paulyn it will be unsafe to follow up
the arqumcne,
"VVltat is the matter with you this
morning, Curzon ?" asks Margery, who had
again joined the throng, " you loose tome
SO eour, that I shouldn't think you would
agree with any ono."
" I dont want to," returns Mr, Bellow.
His wrongs burn within hirn, and his anger
waxes warm,
"Luoky you 1 as matters stand."
"I wonder you have the hardihood even
to adctress me," breaks out he in a vehe-
ment undertone—his wrath at last getting
the better of hien. Ho does not wait for
her answer to this, but turtle abruptly
aside, leaving iter amazed and indignant,
and in toot, as she whispers to herself, with
a good deal in for him I"
(To Be cmamet'een,)
HEALTH.
Diseases Not Due to Miorobee.
The miorobio origin of infectious diseases
was nue of the greatest discoveries in mods•
cal history, It has largely revolutionized
mediral science.
There was a further advance when it was
proved that the harm done by the microbes,
was not direct, but due to a violent poison
they produced, somewhat anntegoua to the
poisons normally thrown off by the cells of
our tissues ; and these are innoouons so long
as they are duly carried out of the system
by the eliminating organs.
It was at first: thought that the discovery
would cause a revolution its medical prac-
tice, end enable physicians to cure patients
with medicines which would destroy the
parasitic microbes. Whet may be done in
this direction is still among the problems of
the fu tura.
The chief advantages of the discovery are
that it emphasizes the supreme importanoo
of general sanitation, and that it may lead
to extending the principle of vaccination to
most infectious diseases. But according to
Doctor'Trouassart, of Paris,—we quote from
the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal,—
we are in danger of carrying the microbe
pathogeny too far, and of overlooking the
part that belongs to the organism.
Ito affirms that it will always be impose
eible to explain all pathology by microbes,
and emphasizes the fact that the functions
of the living cells themselves may Ile per.
versed or destroyed by other agents than
micro-organisms. When the functions of
palls are perverted, the excesses of secreted
or excreted matter beoome real poisons,
similar in their effects to those produced by
microbes.
The foot is the cells of the tissues have an
organisation and properties similar to those
of the microbe, and when their functions
are diseased become veritable parasites,
which the organism hastens to eliminate by
the well-Icnown process of inflammation.
All poisons, whateoer their origin, must
be eliminated by the kidneys, the intestine
or the skin. The fact that the opals and
microbes are so similar in constitution and
properties indicates that it is unsafe to ad-
minister remedies that would be effective
against the microbes.
Pastor Kneipp's Water -Once.
Pastor Kneipp, the famous water doctor
from \Vorrishofon, in Bavaria, the modern
place of pilgrimage of the water enthusiasts
of all countries, is now in Berlin, lecturing
to his followers on the wonderful effect of
his water•oures. Saye a Berlin letter to the
London Daily News: Nearly two thou-
sand persons assembled to hear from Father
Kneipp's own lips the mysteries of Isis sys-
tem. Pastor Ieneipp snakes a very sym-
pathetic impression. His long blaok ceoeook
covers a medium-sized strong body, on
which rests an energetic head, Although
his hair is rather gray his bushy eyebrows
are deep black. From the way he bolde
himself and his lively movements, nobody
would take Pastor Kneipp to be 72 years of
age. I; a is a wandering advertisement for
hie doctrine, to which, as he says, he owes
his life and strength, and which he has
lived up to since 11.43,
He said that what could not be cured
with water was altogether incurable.
Water wee the panacea for all these evils,
A good remedy must be everywhere easily
available, especially to the poor. It must
be able to be borne, and suited to the differ-
ent coneptaiuts. Herr Kneipp oomes to the
conclusion that hydropathy, and especially
his method, unites all these advantages. Ile
Fated that he woe - nota medical man.
He had never read a martioal work. He
himself had been given up as incurable
forty-seven years ago. He had cured him-
self With water, and his love for hie neigh.
bor had sod him to apply the same cure to
his fellow men. And good results had
proved that his method was the only right
one. Finally:, Pastor Kniepp pleaded for
the use of simple food and clothes, as these
things, combined with the use of water,
would produce a healthy human rase: For
Pastor Kneipp hydropathyisthe alone soaring
principle which can be applied everywhere.
As one wants nothing but a bath, a water-
ing oan, Gwo rough towels, and water, ono
can apply it at hone and in the hospital.
It costs nothing and nestle no fine building.
"In my old wash•houee," he said, "I re.
oently treateda minister and a general frotn
Menial, end both world rather remain in
the old washhouse than in the new bath.
house,"
Liberal Dee of Butter.
No dietoaio reform would be more eon-
ducive to improve health among ohildren,
and especially to the prevention of tuber-
oulosie,then an increase in the consumption
of butter, says an exchange. Our children
are trained to take butter with great re-
straint, and are told that it is greedy and
extravagant to eat much of it. It is re•
garded as a luxury, and as giving a relieh
to bread tether than in itself a most inn.
portant artiole of food. Even to private
families of the wealthier classes them rules
prevail at Leh's., end at schools, and at
public boarding establishments they receive
etrong reinforoemento from ocohotnical me.
tivee. Mismute'allowanoes of butter are
served out to these who would gladly oon-
anme five timee the quantity, Where the
house income makes this a matter of ueees.
s1ty there is little more to be said than timat.
it as often a costly economy, Enfeebled
health may easily entail a for heavier ex.
pense than a more liberal breakfast would
have done.
Cod liver oil Deets more than butter, and
itis, bmidae,often not resorted to an too
late, Method of restrfotinga ohild'e cam -
attention of butter, encourage it. Lot the
limit be time power of digestion and the
tendency to biliousness, Most ohildren
may be allowed to follow their own moans,
tions and will not taste Moro than is ggood
for shout The butter should. be of the est
amid telteet cold, Bread, drytoaat, biscuits,
0, 1893
potatoes and rico aro good vehiules, Chit.
Bron well supplied with batter feel the odd
loss than others and resist the influenza
better, They do not "oath's cold" so easily.
In a caking of children, I by no means in-
tents to exoluda other ages, especially
young adults. Growst-ttp persona, however,
take other animal fats 111000 freely then
most children do, and are, besides, allowed
much freer soleotion as to both duality and
quantity. It is not so necessary to raise
any clamor for reform On their account,
Tomatoes and Noncar.
Ono of the delusions that is prevalent in
many parts of the country is that ton -taboos
are the dirout causes of anneal', and that
those who eat them are pretty sure to run
the risk of developing oattceroeo growth at
home time. So fixed is Ulla delusion in
parts of the country that people will not
touch this most healthful of vegetables.
The fact is there is no connection at all
between eating tomatoes and cancers.
Those who eat, plenty of tomatoes are now
more apt to outlive those who do not, for
the vegetable has a direct and beneficial
action upon the stomach and kidneys. They
should bo eaten whenever possible. Re-
cently it was announced that the London
Canner hospital had forbidden 111 patients
in it from eating tonmtoes, as they were a
predisposing cause to cancer. In response
to numerous inquiries if there was any
foundation to the rumor the chairman of
the hospital committee, De. itlardden, an.
21o11110ed officially tisat " tomatoes neither
predispose to nor excite oanoer formation,
and that they are not Injurious to those
suffering from the diocese, but on the con-
trary are a wholesome article of diet par-
ticularly so if cooked." This should be
sufficient to dispel the illusion in this
country too.
Look to The Diet.
Tho cholera. increases in Russia and else
where as the weather grows warmer, and
we must be prepared for it in this country
as Cho hot season approaches. We must
look to our diet as never before, for in the
face of every dread disease we mustoousider
as all important the diet, sponging, the
bath and similar hygieniemeasures. One of
the truest things e.bout modioine to -day is
that we have less medication and more of
proper diet and surromnnings, Put the
patient in the most favorable condition to
resist disease and ie is better than taking
drugs, The truly scientific advances of
medicine are based upon this. Medication
comes in vogue as a fad or fashion, but diet
and sanitary ettrroundiogs are always the
acme. Seienee has stamped out of existence
by hygiene tete dreaded plagues that dev-
astated vast populations, and cholera and
yellow fever are prevented from sweeping
across thecouutry by quarantine, sanitary
surromdbngs and proper diel Small -pox
no longer spreads its contagion from one
community to another because vaccination
has boon used as a shield to stop it,
Puerperal rover that formerly threatened
the life and happiness of so many thousands
of homes, is now prevented by its great
enemy, aoepss. Cholera must be fenced in
by quarantine, but everyone can help to
place himself in a favorable condition by
looking well to the diet. Nourishing diet
is essential, and this must not be neglected
for any mixture that may tempt the palate
more. If our bodies are nourished well
they can resist disease better.
A. S. ATliiyossy, Id. D.
Just to Fix the Style in Her Bead.
She was seated before a long mirror in
one of the largest milinery establielmments
in Toronto, Two dainty creations of lane,
straw, and flowers were balanced on her
finger tips. She was gravely comparing
their merits, while the saloawoman stood
by smiling. And so her clearest friend
castgght sight of her.
"IVhy, Dara, you here ! Come help me
to decide, How much did yon say this
one was?"
"Only 1119.42, awfully cheap," cooed the
saleswoman,
Ill try it on,"
The young lady turned to the glass; her
friend watched her with envione eyes. ITow
did Flora ever get so lunch money?
"Lovely I" cried the saleewoman, as she
toned from the mirror.
"Which do you prefer, Dora?"
"They are both lovely ," said Dora, in a
faint, notlung•to•oat-eince.morning voice.
"And (cite reasonable, too," went on
Flora, "Now, if I decide to take this one,
could 1 have that cluster of flowers moved
just a trifle to the right?"
"Certainly, noticing easier."
"I'll try on the other before deciding,"
Dora could bear no more. She fled to the
elevator. How poor and cheap looked the
hat the had put on so proudly an hour ago,
and she had meant to crush Flora with it I
.Two hours later they met on King street.
Dere glanced at her friend's head,
"Yon had it sent home, S see," she said,
"Sent home nothing, goodie ; didn't you
see me wink at you ? Why, I had only 49
omits in my pocketbook all the time, but
my old hat had to be trimmed over. I did
11 to gain timetofix the styles in my head,
I oan do it beautifully now. Here's a sale .
of imported flowers for 17 cents a bunoh ;
let's go in and look at them,"
They went,.
The '' Covenant."
Most persons experienced in real estate '
matters have a wholesome dread of that
part of a mortgage or deed known as the
covenant. It has the effect of making the
debt which has been contracted in respect
of the land a personal obligation. The .
property may change hands half a dozen
times, assd ten or fifteen years afterwards
the covenantor, wimo has perhape forgotten
all about tine transaction, is called upon to
redeem his promise. Sametfinee this causes
innocent peraohs to suffer, particularly
where an ancient covenant makes a' business
man fail and takes what should go to legit-
imate creditors. At present it person may
be aced under a oovenant twenty years
after the cause of Motion arose. There is a
bill before the Legialabure to reduce the
limit to to to yeare. The amendment does
not appear to be unreasonable,
His Last Will.
An Irishman, who was pretty well to do
but who had been ill for a long- time, thought
he was going to die.
Calling his wife to has bedside, he said to
hers "Well me darling, I think I'm going to
leave thee,"g
" Sure then, Pat," said she ; ". nd ify ou •
do, what shall I do with the money 2"
Faith,"said hos " bury me Olean and
ti"Aeddl mat t ".
sol shad I co with Cho retnafndet?
oho asked,
' Spend it at leisute " replied Pat."
" Shall 1 epeud it before we bury you, or
when we aro coming book ?"
"No boded," said Pat ''i sp�ppond 11 when
We're going, for I shan't ape watt you coming
1)7'01,