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The Brussels Post, 1886-2-19, Page 6DICK'S SWEETHEART, By the Author of "Mennen Tnnvernex," +41.evs, Loan l3zanxarmio," •' lies„ l,rs," "Mamie Bewx,' Era, that has kept her luau. from every tweet) since she quitted than list laud out who had NO well aeoelrterl iter—will crave front the owners of it a night's shelter. With stumbling stege and c uiokenel breath and poor sad byes, half blinded by dust and drifting nisi, idle tights her way onward. She is almost at the outs of every hope whorl ab last a email ugly dwelling upon the walsido looms io sight. She hastens towards it as Wit as her tired feet CIA Et carry her. el'bilot yet some little way from it, angry voices, rising ou the clouded air, come to her, Reaching the rustic gate that guards it from the road, she glaucee nervously through it, and sees. a few yards from where she stands, a; large 'angry -looking woman, She is larger then anythiug iu letusle shape as yet imagined be :.io,oroo. Sun is standing very upright, with her heed thrown well back, and is breudishime in her right hand a huge broom. The other hand is fixed, as if immovably, upou hor hip. She is scolding with might and main, and without the faintest inter. e mission, a stolid -looking girl, who gives one the impression of being accustomed to this sort of thing ever since she PIM the light, and who is leisurely shaking bhe duet from a small strip of carpet so she listens, or is supposed to be listeie ing,. There ie an indifference about this girl's face and entire bearing that might have made her a study to Dolores at an- other time. Now she is too filled.wieh fear and nervous anxiety to note anght but the angry woman and the seguestivo broomstick. Some tittle motion au her part rapes the woman turn towards her. ' Will you." begins Dolores qt. ly ; then the re.luest for a uigut's r. et dies upon her lips. Flow could she find rest here? "May I," she murmurs • faintly; " have a glass of water ? It is so hot—I am so—" " No. Get you gone!" shrieks the woman furiously, with an oath. "I have had enough to do with idle hussies lately to spare time for tramps I" Dolores, though hardly ,coinprehend- ing ,comprehend— inthe words, shrinks backwards; a cold chill strikes to her heart. She sways a little, as . though Bomo unex- pected blow has been dealt her, and then, with a fictitious strength horn 'of acute fear, she flies the spot. On, on I A deadly 'angrier is creeping over her; with a wild energy she battles with it, but all in vain. Her wearied feet almost refuse to move, her hands, banging limply by her sides, have lost all feeling. This strange sensation threatens every moment to overpower hor, to drag her to the dust. And still she creeps onward through the fast deepening twilight, faintly, uncertainly, as one might fn a strange dream 1 Oh, if Dick could only see his darling now, with her drooping head and pale dejected face aid' lips full of earth's keenest misery! Her eyes are dull and lowered—hor some time she has frgob- ten to raise them from the ground; her pretty white gown is soiled and drag- gled. In oue dainty shoe a large rent is visible ; already the stones hurt the tender foot it holds. From her pattte,l lips comes a sighiug sound, weak' and low, that might be born of one who is enduring mortal pain—the pain ofa bro- ken heart. Alt this long day she has been haunted byrmiserable thought. It is the only thing she hes had to accom- pany her upou her weary way. Night is descending fast; the shallows have caught her. And now at hist, when hope is at an end, her vision fails her too. Every nerve quivers, and her sight begins to play her fantastic tricks. A common bush rising between her and the lowering sky sends .a horrible fear into her inmost soul. She shudders and enures to a stand -still and cowers bee fore it, so large it seethe to rise lige Met the dull horizon, so fantastically shaped is it to her distorted fanny. 'She drops back stop by step into the darker seclusion of the high grassy bank that guards her side of the road. And stands there trembling. Then all at once, as it were, her vision clears, and this terrible apparition resolves itself into a mild eltter•bush, out of which peep two pale dog -roses. Did she mid• take them for the eyes of some rosent- i d monster? She rouses herself and again presses forward. Her tired feet almost refine to bear her. Again that curious dim. mess oppresses her, blotting out the land• ecape and casting an opaque veil over the nearest objects. The wonderful courage that has sus- tained her all through does not desert) her now ; bub it has sunk into a dormant sbate. heavy of rousing. " Oh that I might find acme resting - place'!" the murmurs to herself faintly. Only a little place to—" Something has met her with a sudden violence: She sbaggers back weakly, and puts out her hands with a sensitive baste, as though to wand off the a • preach of this new enemy. Her hands wino in contact with a atone wall. At this discovery she breaks into an hysterical laugh, and asks heraolf half humourously why the wall should have chosen to arise from its place and ad- vance upon her of all people --a .foo so unworthy of his strength l This strained mirth of hers is sadder than all tears. Her archils is wan and melancholy. At THE EBtTBtEZ.E ? tT File 19, ' 1886 tats time with her band against the ag- gressive wall, as though seeking its sup- port: How weak she has grown—holy[ dependelitI Again that terrible grow ing 000008oiousnese attaolce her, and again ehe . overcomes is ; but each vic- tory leaves her weaker than before. Is she to meet and battle with death —here on the broad highway, in the very heart of mild and happy summer? It would bo more picturesque, she tills herself, with a last return of the old girlish gaiety that was hers--wben1 How many years ago e She sighs heavily, The wall coming suddenly to an end, she fibds herself be. fore a email gravelled entrance with small iron gate before it, and a small avenue beyond. At, the end of tbie avenue a pretty house, ivy -clad, may be seen, email too, but exquisitely kept, with trailing rosea covering it, and the green shoots of an early Virginian creeper jest showing themselves, which later on will blossom into vivid huee of orange and crimson, and at the sides a purple iacruanajnet bursting itito flower. An ideal cottage,' kindly, hospitable 1 Dolores, faint in body and sick at heart and bereft of all hope, clings trembling. ly to the iron railings of the gate, and longe passionately for the rest and paint that lie beyond it ; but the memory of her last cruel repulse still lives within her, and, in spite of the failing con- sciousness that bide her stay, she shud- ders and turns aside. But Nature, the all-powerful, stronger than pride, greater than sensibility, the mother of, all, now asserts her- mit'. She cries aloud- for succour for this sad child of hers. Dolores, obeying her mandate, comes back, and, by a sudden impulse, lifts up the latch of the gate, and goes mechanically down the tiny avenue. As if in a dream she goes, and presently finds herseif standing be- neath the rose -crowned portico of the house. The door is open to admit the warm summer breeze. Across the hall o wo- man is passing leisurely—a short stout woman of the housekeeper type, with a bank generously broad. Sho neither hears nor- sees Dolores; fife light steps of the forlorn little way- farer have not reached her ears. Do. lores, laying ono hand upon the lintel of the dnor, raises the other and holds it out imploringly to the departing figure of the woman. Alas, her back is tnrned and she cannot seal Swiftly, awiftly she goes from her. Another moment, and she will have turned the corner, and Dolores's last chance will be gone I Tightly clenching her hands, the poor child tries desperately to give utterance to the worde :bunting within her, only to find tbabshe cannot. Sometheeg ter- rible has happened to her 1 She cannot speak! Her voice is dumb—dears i At the very last moment it has failed her. A prolonged nightmare of horror and misery and fatigue has rendered her mute. She straggles with her failing powers ; an agoliisetd expression convulses her face. Her last hope is escaping , her, yet she cannot call aloud to it to stay. Sho shivers from head to foot. An - Other instant, and this unknown woman —who yet is human, and may perhaps be her saviour—will have turned the corner and disappeared. She cannot 'sec the trembling hand outstretched or note the pitifulness of the face. De- liberately, ignorant of the pain that lies behind her, the bousekoeper continues het way, humming it simple ditty'as she goes. Dolores, desperate, makes one last violent effort to ' overcome herself. A cry breaks from her, low and bit- ter exceedingly; the woman, startled, turns. t Ono moment'!" cries Dolores, hoarse- ly, holding out both her hands to her now. " One 1" That strange cloud is again envelop. ing her; she seems over falling; falling; and her voice—how strange it sounds 1 Is it hor own voice? " Help me I" she 'whispers faintly. " Bless nee I" excletims the woman, in a frightened tone. She flings aside the feather duster she has been carrying, and rushes to- wards the girl with arms nervously ex- tended. Another instant, and Dolores has sunk into them, exhanated, insen- sible. It is a week later ; six whole days have grown and shrunk and died before men's gaze since first the terrible Renee of lose unspeakable, the knowledge of desolation fell with crushing violenoe upon Miss Maturin and Bouverie. She has gone from them—the one they loved —gone for evert Alredtiy, their belief in her possible recovery grows languid; hope is almost at an end. First there had been an incredulous• amusement when her room was found vacant, and the hours came and went without bringing a sign from her who filled all their thoughts to overflowing. Tho little laoe-edged bed had nob been slept in—that they knew at once; the satin coverlet of palest blue was' stretched out calmly, unwrinkled by Lightest tough ; her hat and cloak wore missing. But all this was as mobbing. She had probably passed a sleepless night, torn by distressful thought, and had gone out of the house in,the early morning to clear ber sad brain and re. fresh hedtired spirit with the sweet satisfying dew. She wonld,reburn pre. sently and explain, and be happier doubtless far her slow night's corn. muning, and stranger to bear up be. neath this ill that had fallen upon her. But glee did not return; and, when. tide moment it octanes to liar with a2 •Morn had worn into afternoon, and that cruel distinctness that she would be again had given ;place to sigcs of corn- glad if she might only Iter. But still a ! ing nij h, great fear stnote 'upon Miee luxury as tears is denied her.1 Maturin s heart. case mere alis eewemem her. 0 kind, kind Being who ruloth over elle anbdua and kill this trturins boor, ann grant tufa ner swept may still holds within it the life we know and prize I" So she prayed. Again her room was soarohed, in the hope that it migbb afford some slue to her disappoarance ; but even the ortbo dox few words always to be founcl upon the dressing -table .of the newly flown were absent ]sere, and there was liter. ally nobhiug to give the mind food for further Search, Tho servants, only a degree less interested than the prince - pale in this sad drama, went about Raft. ly on tiptoe, whispering to each other at unfrequented turns in the many corridors, with faces pale and sympa thetio. As night fell upon that terrible day that rose upon Dolores'e flight, Miss Maturin grew distracted. But Bou. verse, who bad not left her all day, ex- oept bo wander wildly through the woods and such quanrb spots es had drawn Dolores towards then in her oarelesie wauderiugs by stream and lawn, had still professed hitnoelf pas- sionately certain of her return. But, as the dying home waned and faded, and still no tidings of her reached them, Bouverie too became halt mad- dened, and, rushing forth, penetrated far into the dense woodlands, seekiug her who ho could not yot believe had fi. flatly deserted him. The morning light saw him at the railway -station ; but the clerk at the thereat.'. oo could tell him nothing. He had been absent yesterday, unavoidably detained by illness, and the young man who had filled his place was now many miles away, returned to his own post. He was not much of a young man—no perspicuity, no nothing—so he ran on. Bet Bouverie cared for none of these things; he thought ouly of what was next to be done. Could the young man be telegraphed for 2 Certainly. He was telegraphed for, but could not come un- til the next day; so that a whole vain. able twenty-four hours was lost. But when be did mine he knew some. thing. Yes, he remembered the young lady perfectly well—a young 'lady with a gray alder and a face as white as death. She was small—short, las called it—with very fair hair. She seemed quite composed when asking for her ticket, but sad -like; and she— Por what place had she taken her ticket? For London. Oh, yes, there could be no doubt 'about that ! I.•Ie re. membered it as dearly as though she took it Duly an hour ago. He hal won• dered a geed deal at the time about the fact of a young lady starting for town at such an hour. But she was evidently a swell, and swells are for ever doing something "contrairy," and are not therefore to be wondered at at all. Would he know her again ? Why, surely, yes, unless his eyes played him false! Being shown a photograph of Dolores, he at once declared it was " herself, and no mistake," the young lady in the gray ulster with the sail face 1 When be had said this, Bouverie had fallen back a bit. She was alive then 1, Alivei He drew a deep breath, and grew even a shade paler. Emotion overcamebim.• A woman in the same circumstances would have bnrsb, into tears. But such poor comfort. was de niod him. To know even this however —that elle atill.lived, although parte. from them—it was a most blessed relief What horrible thoughts had been his during those past interminable hours he never divulged to any man. And now his search for Dolores was begun in earnest. Even the vastness and vagueness of the field of labour did not dishearten him. London—that huge reservoir for all sorts and conditions of man—how should bo find her there (WAITER XXVII. Day after day passea, and still there is no result. It is now the seventh day since Dolores's flight; and, tired and worn both in body and spirit, Bouverie enters the drawing -room at Groylands. He has returned from a second unsuc- cessful search in London, and feels de- spondency making its prey of him as he sinks heavily into a chair. " No news again ?" says Mies Ma- turin, risiug unconsciously from her seat. There is no expectancy in her voice,• only a mute protest against .the evilness of her fate. , She looks old and thoroughly broken down. No one but ho or she who has undergone it can fully appreciate the absolute horror of inaotive suspense, the wearing anxiety, the enforced quietude, the turmoil of flying thoughts .linked to the trembling body so eager for pursuit, yet so cruelly compelled to be inert. All tithe miss Maturin has learned to endure; but the study of it has told upon her.. Whilst Bouverie has been. hurrying hither and thither with wild and restless persisteney,she has had to sit impatiently at home waiting for what may never come, watching each day failing into night, each night brighten. ing into day, without bringing her any hope. If alis too were to quit Grey, lands and enter on the search, how would the end be? What if the child should return in her absence, mad find no one there to receive or welcome her? Detectives have been employed — nay, are still and will be ever employed, until such time as hope shall be proved to be without foundation. They have been singularly kind and sympathetic, touched uo doubt by the genuine grief of those Who have omplbyed them, They have now and then even held out hopes; but London eertaitily was trouble- somo, deep—very .deep. No knowing what dodge the party' might be up to when the lair was London.t Eventually ho. doubt they would conic upou hor !excite • but the field was wide. It was au.arefel theughte Still' there was hope, li ort,rta. Ic was poor comforb, and the word " artful'' weut to Miss Maturin'a eee DUNN'S A I N C POWDE THE COOK'S BEST FRIEND THE BEST W =N'D MSLZi. ' W . Mt. Piorx'irs, hil c tsIonIn0N Wallas , - efironeee, Otto Manufacturer of three lifter.=t kinds of windmills. Tho elmplest,etroagesta0d most (ng swater, sawing wood, chopping gral made .Nor in or driving any light maohinery they hate 00 equal. AL1 OELIIT3BATED .PUMPS have se- onredaworld-wide ',oputatioa. T rrtarantee them asbeingsuperfer to many now in the market,and squait° any ever made, They wilttlirow watersaafeet,or forget* a mil eon the level. Farmers and stookmsn are re- quostedtosendtarhartloularsbefora hnlina either a Wlndmil,ora Pump, as claim that m in o aro the AlI9, tel'W' MOARMiobl.Ont, MONEY TO LOAN. Money to pan 01 arta property. at .LOWEST RATES. PRIVATE AND COMPANY FUNDS W. B. DICKSON, Solicitor, Brussels, Ont. Money to Loan. PRIV,/1T•E FUNDS. • ' $320,000 of PrNate Funds have just been placed in my bandsfor Invsatment ` AT 7 PER.OENT. Borrowers can have their loan seomplote n three heti if title is satisfactory, Apply to E. E. WADE, WATCI MAKING. The undersigned takes plessors in in- forming the people of Ethel and surround- ing country that he has opened a shop where he is prepared to attend to the re- pairing of Watches, Clocks, Jewelry,- Etc., In a manner that will give the beet ofsatis- faction. - A11 work guaranteed to lee done in a satisfactory manner or no charge made. A call solioitod. —Shop opposite Robertsons Rotel, Ethel:— Wm Doig. READY FOR WORK, The undersigned would intimate to the people of Brussels and surrounding country that be has moved his largo stock of Har - noes from Manchester into the sheet lately vacated by Robert Stevenson, .Graham's block, where he is prepared to attend to the wants of the stook public. 1 have a complete too Light and Heavy Harness, Collars, Whips, Blankets, Brushes, Combos, Trunks, —Bells, Vltlises,- And Everything in the 1Iaroeas Line. IIarnoes made to ordererom best mater. fel, on short notice. Repairing promptly attenrdee to. SatiS. faction guaranteed in every instance. Give rife a call before you purobaso else. where. Don't forget the stand—Dr, Ora- ham's block, Main street, Brussels, 10. Richards. GUELPH ,t3US1NESS COLLEGE. • GU LIPS ONT, rIBB SECOND SCHOLASTIC YEAR 1 commouoodSept, let, Saab department I sin charge o1 a snoe midi, To Impart s prat- tisaitralning for the ofaotout conduct of bnei- none aUoirsis the sphere ane work of the inett. tutlon, ltsgraduatesare 'already holding re.. et onsibleposltioneln theoommerolal centres of thePominiair. Enersptloyoung men and women arethorottr,hiyprepsrod for positions oe Book-ksepar., 5hert-hand Writers. Corso. spondonts, or Telegraph Operatore, Students received at any time, POT eiroular and oats. loguo,glvl0g 10,11 aformation, address 15.e10 M, Meo000ANTCK, Principe ONEY TO LEND. Any amount of Money to Loan oil Farm or Village property et 6 & 61 PER CENT. YEARLY. Straight Loans with privilege of t'e• paying when required. Apply to A: HUNTER, .Div. Court Clerk, Brussels. NOTICE. The undersigned still keeps on' hand the ' Genuine Boll Organ Of Guelph ; New Raymond Sewing [achene. . He also keeps the Pest GRAIN GRINDER In the World, STRAW CUTTERS, Large and Small, R,00T CUTTERS, At prices to snit Purchaser. BARN TRUCKS, CLOTHES WRINGERS, or Anything you *ant, except money. G. DOVE, OPPOSITE TOWN HALL Brussels, Dee. 10. : ,. BRUSSELS WOOLEN MILLS. I beg to,inform the farming com- munity that I am now prepared to take in Carding, Spinning, And 'Weaving, at nay New Brick Woolen Mil], and promise to give Satisfaction to those favoring ns with their trade.' I have on hand and will keep constantly in stock a full as- sortment of mous. Tweeds. runnels, • Drnggete, plankeic, Verne, knitted kends, Dress 010ede, Cotton Shirtings, 9roy Cottons, &c,, Also Tine Canadian Tweeds, PANTING'S & SEBGES for Suits which we will get made upon short notice and a good fit warranted every time. Highest Market Price !'AID FOR BUTTER ER EGGS. c. GIVE ME A CALL at my New Mills liofore 'oillll' elsewhere, areo,'"'C'. r