HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1912-03-01, Page 6A SEVERE TRIAL;
OR, THE MEMORY OF A BOY WITH
DARK EYES.
CHAPTER XIV.•
"'Isn't he a jolly little fellow, Olive?"
alive glances at the cherub -faced boy on
any lap, whom I have been smothering
with kisses.
He is a elle child, certainly."
fine child!" I exclaim with laughing
indiguation. "You speak of him ae if he
were some young creature whom you were
fattening for a prize."
.Olive glances at us from her low chair
inside the window. I am 'sitting on the
stepsjust outside, holding the sturdy,
two-year-old boy in my . arms. Septem-
ber sunshine makes glorious the ruddy
gables of my- old house, rising sharply
defined against the serene blue sky; Sep-
tember sunshine dreams on the smooth
terrace, on the trim walks and careful
flower -beds of any sheltered garden, just
as it dreamed upon them three years
ago, when my sick eyes saw no beauty
in them, nor in the sunshine, nor in any
other fair or lovely thing.
"You will spoil him, Alfie," Olive says;
but at the same time she smiles indul-
gently.
Spoil him! You are not capable of
being spoiled, Scott; are you? You take
after your godmother, my fair child! As
if anybody could spoil such a darling,
Olive! Why, the nicest thing I could say
of him wouldn't be half nice enough!"
"Not half nice 'nough!" Scott corrobor-
ates, in a perfect of tempest of chuckles.
" You delicious little miter' I laugh en-
couragingly, kissing his rosebud mouth,
his bloomy cheeks, his dimpled elbows,
whilst he makes vain snatches at my hair,
at my ear -rings, at my nose even. with
his chubby dimpled fists. "Why, Olive, if
I were you I should do nothing but kiss
him all day long!"
I wonder what would become of Hya-
cinth and the vicarage, and the parish
generally, if I made a goose of myself?"
Olive says demurely.
I take great delight in spoiling my lit.
tie godson, partly because be is such a
splendid little fellow, but principally be.
cause it is so amusing to hear Olive pro-
testing against it. She has grown so de-
liciously matter-of-fact since she married
Mr. Lockhart! Three years have trans-
formed her from a scatter -brained girl
into the most amusingly demure matron
who ever pretended not to adore her hus-
band, or to think her children the most
perfect children that ever were born.
"I wonder how you will bring up your
own children one of these days," Olive
observes in her precise voice, glancing at
me over the pinafore she is embroider.
I shall never have any children to
•bring up. I shall be a rich old spinster,
and Scott shall be my adopted son. and
I will leave Woodhay to him when I die,
and he shall take the name of Scott -
Scott Lockhart Scott. Doesn't it sound
well, Olive?"
It sounds well enough." Olive says,
smiling.
"But you don't think it will ever come
to pass?"
"I hope it will never come to pass."
"You hope your son won't have Wood-
btevf"i , "P"'
Ief?e your ,'own; soil • L ave Wood-
io.,:s'eiosee^3td.et e enough'for
fro e'r €fila I{ T e
s Antos hers head, denuded tis e its
Coldest' • fringe now. with 'sleek golden
braids drawn back. plainly from her fere-
beef! . instead, and plaited neatly at the
back of her neck.
My dear Aliie, 1 should be sorry to
think of your living the cheerless life
you have mapped out for yourself. It
seems all very well now, while you are
young and have plenty of friends. But
think how lonely you would feel by-and-
by when you begin to grow old. without
husband or children to care for you -
with nobody in the world who really loved
you, perhaps, as a wife and mother is
sure to be loved!"
"If 1 sigh, Olive. does not hear me,
though her pink ears are sharp enough.
"My dear, I have been resigned to my
fate this long time back," I say care-
lessly, pulling one of Scott's elastic curls
straight -and then letting it run into
glossy flaxen spirals again; "and, after
all, it is not such a very terrible thing
to be an old maid."
"I think it is a terrible thing," Olive
answers seriously -"a very terrible
thing."
You did not think so always, Olive. I
remember when you ridiculed the idea of
matrimony and were going in for wo'
man's right's and all that kind of thine."
"Oh, that was before I knew!". Olive
Bays softly. "DM you ever hear of a wo-
man who had a husband and children
wishing she were an old maid, Allier
"Why do you try to put me out of con-
ceit with my lot, Olive?" 1 exclaim fret-
fully. "I said long ago that I should
never marry, and I never shall. But I
mean to be happy in my own way. I am
happy --just as happy as half the mar-
ried woman in the world."
Olive shakes her smooth head again,
very positively' this time. ,
"I wish Digges would come with our.
tea," 1 say, yawning.
My godson has scrambled off my lap,
my book has fallen to the ground, there
seems to have come a eold breath of air
from somewhere or other. 1 shiver in
my blue and gold -colored chintz gown.
It is early yet," Olive returns. placid-
ly threading her needle.
"Not so very early" -looking at my
watch. "I wonder what sport Ronald
has had? 1 baven't heard any shots late-
ly; have you?"
"One cannot hear much when you and
Scott are romping- with each other."
"I am sure he ought to havo had
enough of it by this time." I say, not
BUILDS
SOUND
MUSCLE
C•2.12
alluding to the romping. "Ee started off
the moment after breakfast -seven good
hours ago, :at the very least.'
"Are you in a hurry to have him back,
A11io?"
"Not the slightest. Only it is astonish-
ing how the thing never seems tp pall
upon them!"
Olive Iooks at me,and the expression
of hes face annoys me.
"May: I ask what is amusing?" I in-
quire crossly.
"0, nothing! Only, for such a confirmed
spinster-"
olive, the end of it will be that I shall
quarrel with you."
I hope . not," Olive says equably.
"Here is Sir Ronald coming up the
halm." •
1 had seen him before she spoke, cross-
ing the grass leisurely, his gun under
his 'arm, and his dogs at his heels. He
wears knickerbockers and coarse ribbed
shooting-stockings,•and he looks very well
-or I like his looks very well --as he comes
up to the window.
Just in time for tea, Ronald."
"I 'don't care for tea, Rosalie," he
laughs, leaning his gun against the wall
and sitting down on the steps at a little
distance from me. "But I don't mind
assisting at the ceremony once in a
way."
Had you any sport, .Ronald?"
"She hopes you had not," Olive inter-
polates mischievously.
"Why does she hope that?" Ronald asks,
looking at me.
Don't mind Olive; she is inter}rely dis-
agreeable to -day," I laugh, shrugging my
shoulders.
Digges has brought up a gypsy -table
in front of me, and laid the tea -things
upon it -my dainty Sevres cups and sau-
cers, my gilded spoons, my favorite plum -
cake, piled high on a Sevres dish, Olive's
favorite home-made biscuits, a basket of
ripe black plums.
What have you been doing with your-
self all day, Rosalie?" Ronald asks, with
apparent irrelevancy
"Gardening a Iittle, and driving with
Aunt Rosa.'
Why did you not come to meet me, as
l'bu promised you would?"
"I don't know."
"I was looking out for you in the larch
wood."
"Were you?"
"Is that the way in which you keep
your promises, Rosalie?"
"I scarcely ever make any promisee."
"So much the better, since you can
break them so easily."
"I intended to go, Ronald."
"Then why did you not come?"
If I had any reason at all, it was such
a silly one that I do not care to tell it
to him -indeed nothing would induce me
to tell it to him, of all people in the
world. I have gone to meat him on hie
way back from shooting probably a hun-
dred times; but of late I have shrunk
from treating him with the sisterly fa.
miliarity which has rendered our inter-
course with each other so pleasant -to
ray heart to Gerard; water three years
and a half ago, and, if x have any, heart
left, it !s his still. Deep down, far away
from • the disturbing pioesures and cares
of every• day, lies the memory of a boy;
with dark twee -the memory of ,a tall,'
handsome lad whom I loved long *ago,
whom I know -=if I tiered to disturb rite
'moss and long grassea about . that burled
heart -=I love still as I shall never love'
any one else; .in the world.
"I thought you were in a hurry for tea,
Alfie?"
Olive's voice 'wakes me out of a rev-
erie.
I \yonder where Lily is?" I remark, as
I arrange my cups and 'saucers,
"In her 'room, I think."
"Pear child!" I say softly.
"She seems very nervous and excited,
Alllo, doesn't ,she?"
"Is it any wonder?"
"I suppose not."
I feel very nervous and excited myself,
though I try not to think of to -morrow.
I have been learning a lesson for the last
three years, and :I. am afraid, now that
I shall so soon be called upon to repeat
it, my courage may fail at the last mo•
went. If I coulct have saved myself so
severe a trial, I would have done it; but
I could not very well, And after' all, iteis
bettor to have it over. The test meet
come sooner or :later, and sometimes I
almost long for it with a fever of impati-
ence, for, till I have triedmy own en-
durance, how can I know that it will
stand?
"Scott, will you run in and pull the
bell, darling -or stay, I . will go for her
myself here is your tea, Olive, and.ex-
cuse me for a moment -1 avant to see
what Lily is about."
I find her in the pretty south room,°
which I have bad fitted up for her. She
is standing before the glass, a slender
figure in a long white gown.
Lily!„
She turns round at the sound of my`
voice.
Admiring yourself, you vain . child?" .
She runs to me, throws her arms round
rile, and bursts into a sudden passion .of
tears.
"My dear Lily, what are you crying for,;
on this day, of all ,days in the year!"
Only sobs answer me. I touch her halres
tenderly, the soft' hair' that gleams.
gold as it ripples away from her white;:
forehead. "You are a very fool'i'sh child,
Lily; do you know that?" •
"I cannot help it, Rosalie, ob., Rosalie,
what if he should not care for me -what"
if he should have eared for somebody
else-"
He has not cared for anybody else since
he left you, darling."
"But how do you know?"
"I know. And I have come to take you
down to tea. Dry your eyes and come
with mo." -s
She dries her eyes obediently she is
just as much of a child . still as she Was
three years ago. In other things • she is
improved' out of all resemblance toher
former self. In appearance she has, •if
anything, gained in attractivenesseseehilt
in manner she is as different from the
girl I brought down to Woodhay 'three
years ago as she is in education and
refinement of speech. I have taken Paine
to make Gerard's wife as beautifulmen-
tally as she is outwardly, for his" sake,
and I have been rewarded by a most un-
expected measure of success. Lily is as
fair as the. Rower she is called after -the
wretched surroundings of her negieoted
childhood have not smirched the white*
ness of her soul.
A litle wayward she is still. a 'lite'
willful even; but to me she is ales*;,
obedience itself. I think she aiwaye'er'
be to any one she loved.
me, at least -for the last three years. And she loves me with a peri!
When or how this .new feeling of shypess sion of devotion. Whether • sh
sprung' up it would puzzle me to tell, love me so much if she knew ho
B;oeeid; h always treated -me:like a once laved me I know: not -I h,;
yqunger igfele eitis a�genth protectin
at.
&abate it: heueve liishragr alto Wit: at
,love making was in the train that' ev-
ening, three years ttgo, :,when he brought
me down to Woodhay. I do not remem-
ber a single word, • a single Lok since
then which could be construed into the
most distant approach to anything be-
yond cousinly or brotherly affection. And
I have ignored the past just as entirely
-perhaps it was easier for me to do it
than for him -and found it very plea-
sant to have Ronald to go to in all my
difficulties, to ease me in a great mea-
sure of all my eases of state, for, though
we do not live in the same county, or in
the same country oven -Ronald's place,
Balquharrie, is in Scotland -he comes to
Woodhay often, and we write to each
other constantly -long letters, chiefly on
business, but letters which I think are a
pleasure to us botb.. I know they are a
pleasure to me.
I have had a great many offers of mar-
riage during the last three years, .more
than I care to remember. I dismissed my
suitors one after the other with no
qualms of conscience, for oven the vain-
est of them could not say that I had
bestowed any favors upon him, or given
him any reason to believe that I would
lend a favorable ear to bis suit. The
only one for whom -I felt any sympathy
was poor Gussio Deane. It did grieve
me -for the space of a day and a half
--to send him away sorrowing; but then
neither had I ever given him any encour-
agement -my greatest enemy could not
call me a flirt. Gus had gone out to the
(rape, he went more than a year ago;
Olive hears from him sometimes. She
roe
QU;cKLV STOPS COUGHS, CURES COLDS,
HEALS THE THROAT AND LUNGS. 20 CENTS
says sho thinks he is getting rather fond
of his colonel's daughter, a nice girl whom
we used to know in London; and 1 hopo
it is the case. Dinner Deane is married
to Jacic Rolleston; I havo had them down
here at Woodhay on a visit, Poppy and
her husband are in Ceylon.
Ronald Scott had never gone back to
India. A distant relative -a third dr
fourth cousin of hie mother's, I believe,
and a very old man -had died before his
year's holiday was over, leaving him
Balquharrie, a fine wild place in the
north of Scotland, which it seems be al-
ways knew would one day be his. I have
never been there; but I have seen photo-
graphs of the old castle, with its keep
and drawbridge, and the great wild
mountains towering up behind it. Some-
times a disagreeable thought obtrudes it-
self into ely mind. that Ronald will be
Marrying somobody some of these days,
and that i shall lose any friend, But
T put the idea away from me persistent-
ly; when the misfortune happens it will
be time enough to lament over it. Mean-
while Ronald belongs to inc.
Dear old TJnole sod died two years ago,
and since his death Aunt Rosa has lived
with me, At hie death the Loekharts
moved into the 'Osseo. It is pleasant to
havo Olive so near --scarcely a day passes
that we do not see each other -her nur.-
sery_is, one,of tnYefelerite haunts. Wizen:,
r�"am en joying: myself there,' nobody would
suppose that I was the unapproachable
'Rise Somers of-'1Poodhay---en, at least.
Olive tells me when she interrupts sotto
glorious romp. And I aril happy enouc+h,
with a kind of negative happiness -I man-
age to live, and take some pleasure out
of life -without the heart which I buried,
the day 1 came of age, far down in the
depths of my shadowy combo. 1 .have
never attempted to refs* it up' again -I
do not, suppose I could, if I would, I
Sieve loved and done with lova-I gave
Grocers rs • M Give You
lglr Tea whe,s you ask for it, but there are others
would rather make a lig profit than serve you
Ask for "Salada" and see 'Matg
ou get it.
�'
OLAtaWt, fdliXED or GREEN. cls
Id Only On Load Packetsc say an Grgecer*1
L ys The Ho nLe -
• to use the best sugar—because
poor sugar means poor cooking.
is. the.genuine"Montreal Granulated" --absolutely pure;
sparkling crystals of the most inviting appearance.
Ask your grocer for a zo lb.
bag of ST. LAWRENCE
GRANULATED -- also sold
by the barrel and in Ica lb. bags.
The Si. Lawrence Sugar Relining Co. Limited
MONTREAL 32
omrd that,shb shall never hoar that story
keen me or from any one else.
"What shall I do if he hates me, Rosa-
Iie?'"
I aue holding one of the small tremb-
ling hands, smoothing back the tendrils
ilii red gold hair out of the velvety sap-
hsre blue eyes. The beauty of the- wist-
1 "face sends a strange pang t i mY
art.
'Slate you, darling! As if he could!"
,l'llei never loved me as I loved him,
hen he will fall in love with you to-
w." I assure her, smiling. She
..o, at that, a very childlike smile.
aid"only think 11-"
ing, you may be sure of it. He.
able to help himself."
$0: different from what I was
Ivety.;eyes' search my .face
deeper and
e.
co ';i �•i,. a would ,wrs`h
on were'' a child then, 'date
scrre a woman, ready to lend
rifest 'helpful life.'"
ni w only help him, Rosalie!"
ihtnll help him, See how he has
what a name he has made for
And if he has done so much
What will he not do with you to
c }' and'.,epeourage him?"
o sighs,' as if the picture oppressed
her with itsweight of felicity.
"'What, have you been doing up here
all the" afternoon, Lily?"
"Looltler at myself in the glass," she
anarvars, at once.
"What a child you are!" I say, laugh-
ing.
w `It *:ns childish, wasn't it? But, if you
kn, .Rosali
"ewI do linos, de-"arling I know all about
!<t."
F Winter weather roughens and.
your akin, causing chaps, ifi1
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Witch Hazel Cream
The creamy ingredients sooth and soften'
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Delightful after shaving or washing
25c. a bottle, at your druggist's.
NATIONAL DRUG AND CHEMICAL 'CO,
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It le I who sigh this time, remembering
a girl in a blue dress, with a bunch of
violets nestling over her heart -a girl who
had looked up into Gerard Baxter's dark
eyes and "loved him with that love which
was her doom." ,
"Come down and have some tea," 1 say.
drawing her out of the room with me.
I lova the child, for Gerard's sake; but
it has cost me many a pang to watch
her growing loveliness and think whose
arms will clasp her, whose lips will kiss
hor by and by when 1 am forgotten! The
pain is very vague now, a dimness has
come over it of late. But I know that it
is only in abeyance -that the very sound
of Gerard Baxter's voice will bring it all
to life again, to haunt me with its old
tormenting anguish of unrest.
"I shall know to -morrow," the girl says
dreamily, as we' cross the hall together.
"I shall know to -morrow.
(To be continued.)
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Cost less than flimsy substitutes;
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M. S. e&z 5. Co. Preston,
Ont. 123
aril
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-739177-4
141
HERE'S no mist
He looks as pry
1t isn't the,,s
value. It's rather that
you think of fat stook,.
Neat, permanent imp,
any other feature.
Which is his'
ese
•
g,the expression of a man whose farm is well "improved."
roils as he feels.
f 'a place that . counts most, nor its acteal dollars -and -cents
ell -kept," thrifty appearance; the appearance that makes
d well-filled barns, and, comfortable, contented living.
:ements gofurther in giving a farm this appearance than
Concmte Is The Ideal Material
for such improvementif :is neat, harmonizing with its surroundings in the country
Everlasting, It cannotbe'"injrired by fire, 'Prost; wind or lightning, Age—instead of
Causing It to dectxy---e.ctmully makes it stronger.
Concrete never needs fPllair--first cost is last cost. New in?provements can be added
year after year With teee Ospense than would be required to keep Wooden structures
in repair. ;
Concrete walks, ;feeding 'fleet's, dairy -barns, ice -houses, root -cellars, well -curbing,
fence posts, silos—which of these does your farm need most? Whatever you want to
build, it's best -to boiled It 6,E • concrete.
Do you want to knowepiore about dile subject of permanent farm.improvementa?
4L•
Then Wrlte' for your der y'iof,
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Y
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F
OUT OUT THE LEGGY STEER.
In buying cattle to fatten, the ex -r
perienced buyer alwaysq cuts out
the long-legged, rangy steer unless
he. is compelled to take tho;entire•
lot as' they stand. Even if he gets`
some leggy animals in the bunch,
he will, if he knows Ms business,
not attempt to feed them all in the
same 'manner. He will separate the
rangy steer from the blocky, short-
legged, straight-backed fellows and
either sell them or feed t1ie,,pt; by -
themselves,
A steer may be rather'loug in the
Iegs and . body, but still possess
many' good feeding qualities. In
that case: ha can be finished off
slowly and over a longer period I'
.to better advantage than if he ist
forced.
The low, blocky steer responds
more readily to forced feeding ands
it is more profitable to -stuff hivla,i
vigorously and finish him off more.)
quickly. This fact has been wet,,
demonstrated by Professor Smith
the Nebraska station:
The girth of a steer is almost'
sure indication of its, ability ,to p
on flesh in a given length of tim
Experiments show that the . heavier
est gainers are the steers with t1i
largest middle girths; The heat
and rear girths are not infalhlrer,
barometers, but a steer with a welt •'
developed body may be classed
a heavy gainer.
In one of his experiments Pro-
fessor
ro fessor Smith says, "The middle
girth of the three best gainers av-
eraged seven inches larger than l•
those of the poorer ones. The best •ar;
gainer averaged 3J pounds per '
day, while the poorer averaged
only. 2% pounds."
Two courses are open to the beef
producer wherever alfalfa is grown
if he expects to make a success of;
cattle feeding. He must either use ;
less corn and more alfalfa in fin-''
ishing his stock, or make a study'°<:
of the individual animal. It makes
no particular difference what breed.
of cattle a feeder fattens as long ail.
he pays attention to the essential4
features of the animals and feeds/
them systematically..
The long -fed steer on a mediu
ration finishes off better than
'vel s
-t-fe
y hor d steer on a:.:,
1 z". 1 •eaeases pays
vert e dailya "+,.'':
grn'2i�-the �trt�
mal is between w:o and three
pounds and it is only the very bei
type of steers that will take on more
than three pounds.
A,PATTENING CRATE. iJ
Fowls should be fattened at least 'L.,
four weeks before they are killed,` :'
not to make them as fat as possible„
but to give them the right propos
tion of fat and lean to make the,;.,
fowls fat and juicy when cooked r
The fattening crate is six feel: ,+`...
long, sixteen inches wide. eighteen.
inches high and divided into three, ;''
equal sized compartments, each'\
holding from four to six birds, as
the case may be.
The slats or laths are 11 inches
wide, placed if inches apart at the
ends, sides and tops of the crate,
but those in front are placed ver-
tically two inches apart.
The floor of the crate is made of ti
slats laid lengthwise, one inch
apart, leaving a one -inch space on
either side between the first lath
and the sides of the crate. The
crate should stand on short legs or
trestles, to allow convenience in
cleaning.
The trough is made the full length
of the crate and should be three
or four inches deep. It is support-
ed at each end on notched boards,
in order that it may be taken away
when the coops are cleaned.
Never leave the feed before the
chickens more than fifteen minutes,
and feed very little at the start,
gradually increasing • the amount
until the end of the week they are
gettipg all, they can eat three times
a *lay.
Some rations for fattening are.
given
• . Equal parts by weight of finely
ground corn, oats and shorts,, mixed
with sour skimmed milk.
Same ration, except substitute
ground barley for the corn.
r'inely ground oats mixed ,with
skimmed milk. •
Equal pasts of finely ground
oats, corn and low-grade flour. If
beef scraps are used, ,. fifteen' per
cent is the best ,proportion.'
A TRUTHFUL CHILI.
Visitor.—`iYour soother wasn't
"expecting me, was she V' •
Little il'1- No; she didn't even
havetime to slide out the back
door and go into the next door
:neighbor's.