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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1912-02-02, Page 5sonssiak SEVERS OR, THE MEMORY OF A BOY DARK EYES.. CHAPTER X.—Wonted) My interview with him lasted; half en 'hour, Ronald Scott stood leaning with, folded arms 'under the barred,' window; Gei a.i d wanted up and down the cell rest. lesnly.: reminding me of some.eaged orea- -'ture: "When all his stretch of burning sand and alsY Siminks to a twilight deo, which his de- spair Can measure at a stride." ,lie and X suet without a word, with white faces, with trembling outstretched herds —two miserable beings—so young, yet for whom all the happiness there might have 'been in : the world seemed to ' have come to an end. What Ronald "Stott thought of our meeting I know .not—I had "never given him a thought during the whole of the interview, Gerard had told me his wretched story in very .few words. 'What he would not say in self defense to the magistrate he said to me—not that I might justify him before the world—he seemed to- ears very litle about that—but that he might justify himself to me: "She. left the house on the twenty-sec- ond of July, and, I have never seen her since, alive or dead," he said, pausing in his restless pacing up and clown to con- front me as I sat on the wretched pal- let. "She ran away in a rage because I scolded her about something—and.I never saw her again." 'Then why did you tell her mother what se e oriesou ifor the neighborsid yabou ut letters and c messages?" • "They asked me, and I had to say some- thing." "But why not have told•the 'truth?" "X would rather he a said I killed her than have told the truth." "But why?" I asked, astonished. "If you knew nothing about her, why did you do what must turn to such terrible evi- dence against yourself?" "I did not care about myself." "But you did not benefit her.'= He turned• away from me, walking up and down the floor again, a deep red angry flush on his haggard face "She was such a fool, such a poor sense- less idiot; and. I had driven her to it—or so I thought. I ought not to have tried to reason with her as I would with a, re- sponsible being! I ought to have shut her up and fed her with bread and water like an obstinate child." Mrs. Wauchope's hint about jealousy enrne 1,nto my mind. He had been Jeal- ous o somebOde---r:S ie., antiee tee. had ben painting M.3wife s teautiful face. It" would have been better to have told the truth," I repeated. "Better to have said that she had gone --you knew not Where." 'Uncle Tod'' nerd ]chow nothing about it. And if yea think your respectability in any, wise compromised' by being, seen in such a locality, X will sop the cab, and allow you to step out on to the pavement "If you -go. I will certainly. go, 4ao," he ansts ers, with a vexed smile. "At least, it is safe for you with me. But ,I must tell you plainly that T enter a very strong protest against the entire proceeding;" "Then let that quiet -your conscience. I promise you not to stop tenger than -I can hells in Taw Alley I have no "weakness myself for the kind of locality I.,nresilmo it to be. But I want to see tfiis Mrs. White, though I do not know that it will lead to any discovery which could benefit our cause:" "But I did know, or I thought I knew. She had threatened more than once to I°friend irio thought that t she had carried out her threat—at last." Ronald Scott had moved restlessly at this juncture, bat I had never glanced ate him. I came- here to hear Gerard Passer's story, and I meant to hear 11 -teethe:end. • "But it must have come out sooner ,or later=' Then I should have dentroyed myself I" the lad said fiercely, "I often wonder now why I Held ley handl" I have wondered since how •I had strength enough to carry out my own resolution; but my Indomitable will, the 3 obstinacy Aunt Rosa deplored so much in my character, and the resolution to eave Goren' Baxter, if mortal power could save him, carried me through. "And you never saw her again, from , that day to thin?" Never again." "Do you think." I asked vaguely, look- ing into his hollow eyes—'do you think she—put an end to herself?" "I do not think it. She was not the kind of girl to do a thing like that?" "where is he—this man you call her friend?" "I do not know. I have never uttered his name to anyone --except to her. I ]snow now that my suspicions of him were groundless—it was only the day the police came for me that I met him. and he asked why she had not come for any more sittings for the picture. He was an honest fellow though he paid her com- pliments sometimes—everybody did. And I did not care enough about her to be Jealous, only I told her I would have no nonsense—I would ]sill her first!" "Slee was not happy, Gerard?" "leaeper he repeated scornfully, "We are neither of us happy!" "You must have broken her heart." "Iler heart! She had Ito heart—she was nn thoughtless as a baby, and es ig- norant. Her ignorance disgusted me a hundred times a day!" "You should have had patience. with her —she was so young!" "I ought. It is that which is killing me now. Whatever she did, I drove her . to it; but I do not think she took away her own life. 1 think she must have slipped into the water—I don't know how it happened I only know that, since, she left the house on the twenty-second of July, X have never seen her, alive or dead. This had been the substance . of Ger- ard's story. And now, as I drive away from th.e prison; breathing .more freely outside- the shadow of " those hopeless, stupendous iron -gray walls, I say to Ronald Scott, who is sitting opposite to me, looking not at me, but out into the crowded street: "What do you think now, Ronald?" "Very much what I thought before," he 'answers, coldly enough. 'You do not believe his story?'' "Itis story seems plausible enough. If the girl's body had not been found, I might have felt inolinad to believe it. But the finding of the body is a proof that she met with foul play; and that in conjunction with the false reports he gave of her—which he himself acknow ledges 'were false—and his jealousy of the pian whose name he would not give, seems to me most: conelnaive evidence of his railer • "But he was not jealous of her," I Bay, feverishly Taw Alley Is not so, utterly wret('hed a place its I imagined. There is a piece of waste ground at the cad of it, where children are playing and whore some clothes are hung out on lines to dry. It is merely a small;smoan by street, with small, mean houses, not one of the delis of wretchedness X have pictured. to my- self. We had left the cab in the entrance of the alley, and I tusk. the first woman I see standing in a doorway if she could dlreet me to the house of Mrs. White, the laundress. "I am etre. White." 'the woman an- swers, with a quick cunning look, first at my companion, and 'then at me. " She is a white-faced, white-eyelashed woman with red. hair --I rather pity the defunct Mr. White who was "once. a gentleman," as I loop at .her. "Oh! I am a friend of Mr. Baxter- your son-in-law: And I Wanted • to see you—and this 'place." - Ronald Scott .seems aghast at my te- merity- But he docs not attempt to in- terfere. At Gerard Baxter;s name the woman's face had changed! She hates him—I know it the moment I see that change in • her countenance—hates him, notwithstanding the "impartiality" which had won her such favor in. the court. "I have heard of your aughter," I say. doubtful how to enter .upon such a delicate subject with a perfect stranger, even though the stranger be a person like Mrs. White. About her!" the woman exclaims quick- ly. "What about Iter?" 'Why. all about this sad business!" The woman raises her apron to her face. She has protruding eyes—so very Protruding that they look as if they might at any moment fall out of,,her head. And I know b -y experience that a woman with those oyen will talk while she can get any one to listen to her. urell me, esp It a pad i)uninrsn, my lady. Many a one comes here to see me... and they calls it a sad business." •"Site was very young, and very pretty." "Indeed she was! Much like myself when I was a girl. But sorrow changes a Person's looks—sorrow and want and a bad husband will soon take the beauty out of the handsomest face in the world!" Ronald turns away and stares down the alley. Mrs, White, whose apron does not reach as high as her eyes, changes her tactics. "She ,was the ouly child I had -- tYle only one.. Thiuk what'Would he to yees mee Indy, to„:See', the only: t,lk%i111 y'seeelevee in the world fished, up- ont••of-tile-river there . like a dead dog! There's things; nobody can forget if they was to live a thousand years!” She glances at Ronald when site Speaks'. of "the only thing you loved in the'' world." I suppose she thinks he is me husband. "Was she," 1: eslc, and 1 shall never know what prompts me to ask the quest:on— "was she much changed?" Again the woman glances cunningly into my face. She was over three weeks in the water, my lady—in courno site was changed." Yet you recognized her, beyond any manner of doubt?" "I was her mother, my lady. I would have known her if I saw nothing but her hair. Lovely golden hair it wnc-- you may have seen it in her picture• --lots of people saw it. It was ber hair the artist -gentlemen admired—Venetian hair they called it—though some might call it red. We set no store by her looks till a uncoe began to noticeolooker she had —like a picture!" "You identified her dress of course; you would remember everything she was in the habit of wearing?" Again the woman pauses, eyeing me. And at the pause Ronald Scott turns round to look at her. . "It would be queer if 1 didn't, and I seeing them and her every day of her life!" It would be queer indeed. And you recognized her clothes at once?" "The minute X laid my eyes on them." "Even the little brooch you gave her— that you put her father's hair iuto your- self!" "I'd have sworn to that, if I could have sworn to nothing else," Mrs. White arse- verates ,with what seems to me rather unnecessary emphasis. ' 'Twaan't much jewelry poor Lily had, and he never gave her anything—he hadn't it to give." ' "It must have been a terrible shock to you when you saw her?" Mrs. White's apron is up to her face again; but she glances over the edge of it with more speeulation in her eyes than is compatible with any very deep- seated. sorrow. "You' may say it was a shook to me; my lady—a shock X won't be the better of for the rest of my life!" "I do not think anybody could be de- serving of greater pity than a mother who has lost her only child," X say ad- visedly. And then I slip half a sovereign into, the woman's hand and turn away, Ron- ald following me. We speak no word until we find ourselves in the cab again, well out of hearing distance of Taw Alley. Well?" T saythen, stooping forward eagerly to look into my' companion'', face. You would make n first-class lady de. teetive, Cousin Rosalie!" • But what do you think. Ronald?" "What do you think, Rosalie.?" "I think," "X say deliberately, leaning beek against the cushion again, "that. woman would swear 10 anything." "So do X." . "The body they found was not Lily Baxter's body.'! "1 do not think it was:" "And Mrs. White has perjured her- self!" I" She .lamest bee tioneitslasee and will,. hang inti if she 'can,"' . I saivet' in my • warm cloak. But at t•ins Elan time I, drew ts long breath of the' 'nest exquisite- relief: ' • " Do you • think she knows • where her daughter' is, 3lonseld'A'' ' "No; I 'do not think she 'does. She bee' merely sworn to the Identity of the body as a means of being revenged on Baxter for his treatment of the girl.' "And Gerard fleeter is innocent!" 1 exclaim, with a little womanly triumph.' "And you, a judge, would have con destined him to death!" ..._ the first time arose we di'ov ough the prison -gates an hour age ; if the girl's body had been ken would have been inclined ''to believe �siory. And now X " am of oniniea 'tri, t rias, not been found.." . 1 ;am Silent for a minute - y enn_ toying that delicious seuaatr lief. The tension of the las i oe or four days is relaxed -1 feel as ,. squid breathe again, "Row to fend Lily Maxtor!" try's y, at Set.' Ah," my cousin . answers del a etely, '"that may be more easily ' than done!" We put advertisements in 'thIi.ess•- almost inevery paper in Ertl 1. :Phe coroner.' who held the ingteesi, on: the body of Lily Baxter must be [;i;onished if he sees' the notice in the j pprs. ,ear- ling_ upon bee to come . Soxward and save. her husband's life, •isTobe i knows anythingabout it but .Rinield , add ;7, •- we are probably the -only scop) in Lon-, don, except the girl's „own mos err, who are not pitying the unfortunate victim. and execrating the,unnatural husband. Tho tragedy has made •a sensation; ;but already the interest is dying owes -doubt- less all to berevived when the trial ct`raas on in Oetober. I remain on •at, ley Bade ings in Carleton Street day eaftor day, vainly hoping that Ronald •m es-brills some good news. But, though ' es is. tie- ing ever everything he ca it yxlfttle ond inserting advertisoneite oucl.'nut- ting a detective or two to work;., we 'hear nothing of the Missing girl. Whether she knows the jeopardy in which her silence has placed her husband or not we have no means of - knowing. But it eau hardly be that, ]cnoseiitg his inno- cence, she would let him suffer . the ex- treme penalty of the law. However it may be, or wherever she may be, the days peas by—the long weary days—and still she makes no sign. The time fixed 'for the `trial is .very near. I, have made no attempt to repeat my visit to Gerard Baxter's cell;, but Ronald Scott sees him very' often, and. seems to take great interest in him— he is so young—such a mere lad,. and, we believe, innocent of the horrible crime laid to his charge. That Ronald will exert himself, when the cane cotnen to a trial, -I am very sure. Buf, so" long as the public believe the murdered. Lily Baxter 10 be lying iu her grave in the little churchyard where she was• buried on the twentieth of Auenet, they will not be satisfied till they have ;their re- venge on the wretched, young .husband. The blood of the victim cries out for jus- tice, and, unless we can produce Lily Baxter, alive and well, before the .eigh- teenth of October; Gerard Baxter may be found guilty of her murder " and; con- demned to death. e•• It LI strange how firmly permitted. both Ronald and I are of the duplicity of Mrs. White. If we had not known her to be a worthless woman—everybody who is acquainted with her gives . her the same character—we would still 1?ave been persuaded that she was telling alio when she said she recognized her daughter's body. It was something In her, manner, slight, indefinable, yet enough, ;to con- vince us, watching her so closely: that she not only was unable to ideetify the body, but that she knew it was not Lily's body ft all. The liardihosel of the wo- iliLtil 111 risking discovery.. did not sur- prise us. She looked hardened' enough for anything—quite hardened enough to put a bold front upon it 'should Lily suddenly turn up and rettier leer liable to a charge of perjury. I alp weary of waiting,: sick to death of the suspense which I suffer day after day. I am going home to-morrow—I can- not put it off any longer—I.,,ha'hl been nearly a fortnight in terve, and Aunt Rosa threatens to come lip to look after. me. I can do no good by remaining in Carleton Street—I can scareely .suffer more at Woodhay than X m suffering. 'heat, ;th. : `' t ',' e� iso hope aster post hour, ' w b S ; •e "11 - aid Scott might walk lee..e y • omel1t with some good news. I - ettu'tote believe it possible but that something' will turn up to throw some light on tine mystery of Lily Baxter's" disappearance before the day comes when her husband must stand in the dock accused of her mur- der. Sometimes I feel half tempted to think we were mistaken in supposing Mrs. White had not really, identified her daughter's body. The girl's .silence is so unbroken, she seems to have slipped so completely out of the only world which had ever known her, that sometimes' 1 think, whether that was her body they found in the river or not, that she Must be dead. Olive Deane comes to see me very of- ten. I think she is puzzled about, me—I ma sure she wonders what 'can keep me in London. I have no exouae now • of music lessons—there is no .pialie, in. Mrs. hadhbeen sI wouidts at have ,and if there t 1' "I scarcely believe that. He must have cared for her to have married her. And she seem0"to have had a moat' .beautiful facer "Ilkow do you know?" in - '"iter photograph :is in all the shop-win- dows.' hop-w dows.,, Ronald Scott is note communicative. Anything I do gather from. him 1s Meat out with a reticence tvhiell would, have annoyed me if X had not :been 'too. much ' wrapped .up in my 'own• thopghts 'to re- sent - "Where Are you going now?" he -in- quires presently. "Rome? Inti x am going to 'interview' • Mrs. White luottaUe, let me advise you, to do no eu.11 lhi1g. Yee, .doit't kuow,'what' the !tows el is, of where s:he linea Y'otm rat - F;0 yin.ly angry 'lath 1uc tf- 1 „!Boils,._ ► Why - .use Teas of uncertain quality and value, when delicious on demad Te�..caCl cel e 09 Mack,. Green or Mixed. Sealed Packets Only. FREE Sample Packet on Enquiry. y. Addlrees: ",5,Il,JAdA," Taranto But she confesses that my sojourn in town has done me good. I seem o in- terest myself more in everything,•I have more color in my cheeks, 1 do not look so like the ghost of my former Bolt as I did at Woodisay, when she and Uncle Tod thought—so she confesses o me now —that I was going o die of consump- tion. I shall live till Gerard Baxter's inno- cence is established, I shall live to end Gerard Baxter's wife. 'Phis excitement makes life endurable. And apres? I do not think of any afterward. I am bound up in the present, heart and soul. I have found a work tc do, and, though I seem to have been baffled at the very outset, I do not despair of accomplishing it yet. CHAPTER XI. The next morning at breakfast I have an inspiration. It is a solitary breakfast. It is still raining dolefully—I know how Carleton Street looks, though I deny myself the pleasure of looking at it, on Principle. But, without going to the window, I can see the drenched balcony blackened br the rain, fringed by bright drops wher- ever a drop can hang; I should know it rained by the limp droop- of the drab moreen curtains and of the muslin one still hanging behind them. But the rain does not trouble me much, does not de- press me as it depressed me yesterday, for I have got an idea. My train will not'leave London until three o'clock in the afternoon; there- foro I have five hours . in town still at my disposal, it not having yet struck ten. Two hours would be ampie for the business I have in hand—it is merely to pay a visit. Should Ibe visit necessita e —as it certainly may, and I a longer stay in London, I must tele- graph to Uncle Tod again. Aunt Rosa will think I have gone mad: but that cannot be helped. Some day or other I will explain everything o them—it may not satisfy Aunt Rosa, but it will ac- count for what certainly must seem a very wild (To bet contir them both.now. Misery loves company, but the sentiment is not reciprocate, Who spends his sympathy upon himself deserves great pity. fie taAteseeten ke!ae—Se eci'1nteir itetssese `4t'eesi4ll e Mi 0 CENT This is all it costs you to keep your stock in prime condition with the worla s most famous animal tonic— International Stock Food Every cent invested in this wonderful health - giver, brings back dollars in strong, healthy horses, cows, sheep and hogs, Careful tests show that 4 quarts of oats and the regular feed of INTERNATIONAL STOCK FOOD wia keep horses in better condition than FIVE quarts of oats without it. 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WRITE FOR FULL DETAILS CANADA SECURITIES CORPORATION, LIMITED 173 James Strcot, Montreal, 308 McKinnon Building, TORONTO, - 16 Cornhlll, LONDON, ENGLAND tam 1131x02113 rw" evaewelleekoweeeekeneweaeia FERTILIZING' APPLE 0' CHARDS. (By J. B. Dandeno, A. 1‘.f. manville,) What fertilizer should be &l).11 to the 'apple orchard? ,This tion is of .gory. Considerable 1' • :ante, and is ono very fr.ecii asked by those who are in ,'sae.„- in apple culture. To a certain tent, it is a question of great d eulty because it is nearly: imp sible to get reliable exper'i erj evidence. Because of the"factt there are so many conditions volved in research of this kind, because of the long time neeess to carry out the research, we h very few positive facts to givef-o In making these statements 'e cerning the use of fertilizers, writer is fully aware of the f that mill has been said, and m advertisements sent out regard' the success of this, that and other fertilizer, but some pr must be given before accept without question what has le said. On examining all the d available (the matter having 'b' under investigation by the writ for ten years) one is lead to c tarn conclusions, the gist of wh is here presented for the use of apple -growers of the district, perimental evidence is the o satisfactory agreement, and only kind that can be accepted the investigator, but it require trained physiologist to manipul the experimental data and to r them in the light of the most ' cent advances in scientific resear However, these have been carr) on for some years past, both on t continent and in Europe, under pert guidance, and for a sufficil length of time to warrant some lu ful conclusions. One of these, wh represents practically a gene expression of thein all with resp to the matter of apple orchard i tilization, is now given as press ing practically all we know at present time of the subject:— The ubject:The experiment was carried or Geneva, N. Y., for eleven yes and was planned out carefully a view towards ascertaining rata over a long period of time. 1,„• orchardwas: dl.bided into shy ni ferei1 .,plats -one without fort, er of any kind, one with” barns manure, and five other plats, e treated to a different kind of ti menial fertilizer. In estire.l the results from year to year, following were considered Yii size. color, flavor, keeping qua] maturity, growth of tree, amount, color and weight of I age, as well as the size and equzi of the leaf. Here is a stater? given at the end of ten years a the general results :—"A s pared with the cheeks the feral had no sensible effects upon yield of fl'llit," and further, "" practical outcome of the ex ment it is concluded that trees do not need fertilizers 0 kind if' they are making a amount of growth." What, then, should be do keep up the fertility'? T' drainage, mulch crops, and al attention to the trees ar that is necessary unless the or is on poor, gravelly or sand, If the orchard is poor this ca be remedied by a light appli of well -scattered barnyard followed by proper cultivati the use of clover, buck vetches and the like as gre - nure. It must not be fo that the soil is a natural house of the requisite in clatter, and that the'orchar_• only to keep the soil in a ,sl condition. Drainage usually means the removal of surplus wat the soil. But there is a nu conditions dependent on t moval of water, the knows, which make the subject st< ever so much more prem` Stagnant water prevents tl ation of aerobic bacteria, w essential; it prevents -a s: oxygen, also essential; .it f- ly develops an acid eoliditi fatal to plant roots; it f, development of certain: organisms, chiefly lel fie o also affects many °OIL and chemical conditiorn S11 not be mentioned here >. It would be wise to f regard especially to fertilizers. 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