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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1912-05-10, Page 2Sickheadaohes—neuralgic headaches—splitting, blinding headaches—all 'vanish when you talte NaaDru €o headache Walsers. They do not contain phenacetin, acetanilid, Morphine, opium or any other dangerous drug. 25c. a box at your Druggist's. 123 NATIQNAL DRUG. & CHEMICALCO. OF CANADA. LIMITED. .aide.•.....^,, Take A. Scoopful Of Each— Side By Side Take "St. Lawrence" Granulated in one scoop --and any other sugar in the other. Look at "St. Law- rance" Sugar — its perfect crystals — its pure, white sparkle— its even grain. Test it point Absolutely `i. est by point, and you will see that Absolutely urs is one of the choicest sugars ever refined—with a standard of purity that few sugars can boast. Try it in your home. Analysis shows, "St. Lawrence Granulated" to be "99 99/too to roup Pure Cane Sugar with no impurities whatever" "Most every dealer sells St. Lawrence Sugar," TEE ST. LAWRENCE SUGAR REFINING CO. LIMITED, MONTREAL. 65 R L!TTLE V: 110'3 OR, THE DUEL IN THE GLEN. CHAPTER SIV. Frederick Esmond bowed to the lady with a grave smile, as she concluded her request. My dear duchess," he said, gallantly, "it would be impossible for me to meet with success if you have failed, though I will hnd Miss Middleton, and do my best to persuade her to accompany me to the. drawing -room.". "You can certainly do no more," re- eponded the duchess, glad of even the most trifling excuse. ,Esmond turned hest. - retraced his steps through the search of Irene, d left her, Irene repeated, "I am free•flaUI in be fetters that bound me have om me; I—I—can hardly realize t the luau ; who cursed and wrecked my young life is dead!—and I—am—free I" Not that she rejoiced that a human life had been saerificed; on the contrary, with all a woman's gentle Pity, she felt sorry for him, criminal though he was, even while she thanked Heaven that the ties that bound her to this man were severed forever. But my freedom has come to me too Iate," she sobbed. She did not hear the hurried footsteps coming over the green lawn; she did not see Frederick Esmond approaching, not even when he stopped short, almost beside her, for she had buried her face in her slim, 'white hands and was weeping passionate tears. The words that fell from her lips caused Esmond to stop suddenly; to stop and listen with an expression of half -bewilder- ed joy :.on his face. "It is all over," she said, "all over; and he will never know how much I cared for him. Oh, it was hard—bitterly nard--l;, Bend away from me the only man I can ever love. He will never know that he is all the world to me; that I would give my life for him. He will think me proud and cold, always; he will never know the truth. My dream is ended; Frederick and I have parted forever! If it were in this moment that he was kneeling at my feet, I would clasp his hand and ery out—'do not leave me; I cannot live without you.'" She raised her head, and a startled cry fell from her lips, for Frederick Esmond was standing beside her! "You cannot take back your words, Irene," he cried, . with a low, happy laugh; "you have said you loved me; you can never unsay it, again. How I shall always bless the duchess for sending me through, the grounds to bring you back to the house. At first, 1 hesitated, but the longing to plead my cause' just once more with you overpowered me; and, standing there, I heard you, my darling, say words which have mado me'the hap-, piest man on the face of the earth. You do care for me; you regretted sending me from you." How her hands trembled in his strong, firm clasp; she tried to draw them from him, but he would not release them. "I shall not let you go until you have .*;given me my answer, Irene," he said, ' you bid me go—or stay? remember this is final, if you send me from you this "i.,tme, it is—.forever." Cedd ieed lmrhen she lovhmsowel?Theee was a great, sharp struggle in her heart, for one mo - Ment that seemed the length of eternity Ito the anxious lover standing there. Can we, who know her story, blame her for' answering then and there. when the happiness of all the future was at stake, "Stay, Frederick." And those two words were the first link in the cruelest tragedy that was ever enacted. ' There was a moment of ay pnce, too sweet, too tender, it seemed, to ae broken. ai'he fragrant odor of the nodding roses Aber where they sat seemed to enfold tlism, the twinkling lights among the greell t Latae gleamed softly on their iiapny faces`. 44.. Atha,' moment the thought occurred I to rene to tell film of Leon Forrester, and what he had been to her; but"'she hrnnk timidly from the ordeal; some ther time she would tell him, not now, The next words that fell from his Iles decided her that it would be embarrassing to tell him just yet: "`Irene," he said, "you have made me supremely happy; you must add one more kindness; dorust let any of your admirers come near you attain. I am jealous; I delft it ea.ndldiy; it is the one curse of he race of Tlsnlonds, deep-rooted jeal- lay; I cannot help it. If S sae you stir, •onnderl 1r- fobs and dudes, I kc4w I (*ball �l 1i]ae smina tin to von and taking • . a t„,.r.,,.,, t!tctn' ” -I and saying: - she is mine, flatter, woo, cove, as much as you will, she is mine! you have not the least chance of winning her. I could not bear to see you even smile tipon an- other, Irene, you must save them all for me, I know well that you have never cared for any one else," he went oil, carp erly; "that is the one exultant thought of my heart; were it otherwise, I should never know one happy hour." The lovely face blanched to a dead white, he little knew why. "I have strange thoughts perhaps," he went on, thought- fully. "different from the thoughts of most men. I have always ,had my ideal as to the kind of a young'>igirl I should marry; I must be her .first -anti ouht love ;rr the'hand of, the woman toialtoin I laat , the altar shall not, ]laity lain In 643t - other lover's elaap, her facebeen studied by any other lover's eyes." A slight gasp broke from her pale lips but be did not notice it. • "Suppose that I had had a lover and he had died," she faltered, "wouldn't you have cared for me. knowing it?" She asked the question, trying to speak lightly yet, despite the effort her sweet voice quivered piteously, and she bent forward breathlessly to catch his an - ewer, which was to •decide whether she should ever tell him of Leon Forrester or seal 'her lips with eternal silence. "Do you know what I should do in such a case, Irene?" he replied, "I should have gone away, for I firmly believe love comes to a heart but once in this life and once only; yes, I should be jealous of any other lover, even thought he lay in his grave." "But," persisted Irene, "supposing I had never loved him?" "It would be most unnatural to suppose that, for no true woman would betroth herself to a man under any circumstances unless she loved him." Then and there Frederick Esmond lost all chance of ever learning the truth, un- til the bitter end came. "I do not know why we should discuss a subject of this kind," laughed Esmond; "especially in such an hour as this; we have more weighty matters to talk over. The supreme subject now, Irene, is how long shall I have to wait before I can claim you? Tell me, dear, when you will marry me. 'there need be nothing to cause a long delay; when will you be my Wife?" At the mention of the words "my wife," she sunk back with a low cry. Over the nodding roses a dark, evil face seemed to suddenly rise and confront her and the moustached lips seemed to utter the words "my wife." The shock was terrible to her; why should Leon Forrester's face haunt her at 'such a time? "Have I frightened you again, Irene?" asked hor lover, with a smile, "surely there is nothing so very terrible in the words; it is not such a hard question to answer." There was no hairier between them; they were free to and they loved each otber so well, but still, even though she had no respect for Leon Forrester's mem- ory. though she had been his bride is name only, she must not wed Frederick Esmond under the allotted time, one year hence, and sae told him that it could not be until summer came again, "A year!" exclaimed Esmond, in con- sternation, "surely you do not mean it, Irene; you could not be so cruel, I will not wait a year;" but Irene was firm, "If I am not worth waiting for Fred- aide erick," she said, with alovely blush, I am not worth having." "You are worth waiting a lifetime for, dear," he said; "but to tell you the truth I do not see any reason for such delay. I am called away upon business, Irene. I are obliged to be travelling about the continent for the next few months end 1 hoped to take you with me as my wife," I will write to you, faithfully, Freder•- ick," she said, "be content with that." Lettere are a, cony substitute for the society of one whom we love," H;, said, earnestly; "and, besides, : s should bo spending all my time s Writing to you." Irene "te •SSMC to be persuaded.' She was firilt in her. ; declaration that she aftltticl not marry htnt urrlter a year, ..at least, "I will say no mere about it, now," thought Esmond., content with the pro-. fraise he had gained thus far; 'but when Christmas rolls around I will do my best to have. the ceremony performed then, that will make Irene my bride." The duchege learned that evening of. Irene's betrothal. "I am glad your future is settled, my dear," she said, patting the girl's; dark, curly head, I was really afraid you were going to he an old maid." "There was so danger Of that," to mused Irene. "Oh no, certainly not; where a rrctty.. girl like yourself Is concerged nnlo's you, would have been one from ohoico." CHAPTER XV. "I congratulate you most heartily, my dear," continued the duchess, "you will be very happy with Frederick Esmond; you are so suited to each other; I thought it would end this way from the first. There was a fate in it." Irene profited by 'the' duchess' kindly advice. She put all thoughts of the daak, past from her, saying to herself, that she would regard it as though it had never. been or as though it were some hideous' dream. The first time she had wedded because;:, she had blindly believed it to be heat uncle's wish, even when the bridegroom selected was abhorrent toher; now she would marry to please herself. Then and there Irene made a solemn resolve—the most fatal mistake of bet' life—she told herself that, come what would, she would never reveal the secret s of the past to the man she was about to wed. No human being knew of it save the old minister who had wedded her to Leon Forrester. It was not likely that he would ever come up as a witness against her. The dark secret of that mar- riage should be buried from the world forever, in Leon Forrester's grave. What Esmund did not know, would never mtiko him unhappy. Quickly the days Sew by, and the ar-, rang•ements for the wedding went . stead fir on. Irene often thought of the other wed- ding which was but a mockery of the holy marriage -tie, with a shudder; elm remembered how Leon Forrester had taken her into the dim, old church, dressed as she was for the street; and how shocked he had been when he discovered her dress was of black crepe. She was not super stitious; but, ah,—what black, horrible disgrace and bitter trouble had followed. Winter had sped quickly by and sum- mer with its soft winds and tender blos- soms came again. Esmond had passed much of that time' travelling on the continent in the inter- est of his business, and Irene remained with 'the duchess. As Esmond had declared he should do, The ceremony was to take place in the he spent the greater portion of his lime spacious drawing -room of the duchess' writing letters to his lady -love. It ften town house, early in the day. seemed "laughable to the duchess when, The grand mansion was thronged with she wondered what he could rind to fill IF est Tea At Its est LADA" TEA is always the same, rP.o matte When or where you buy it, .h i choicest ted—green, black or mixed—from the finest tea. awing country in the world --Ceylon, with its exquisite flavor freshness protected by the sealed lead packages. 050 tis!. rloWn into their nests again; the do!:tot like to come forth uutii the pink gi de i iu that heralds the . in .hr eastern sky.sunbeams shine " I ''1 smiled, ns s chtlquaint' girl's were of pretty lan- gt,s•,e, and unconsciously too. said to myself," continued Nannette, 1 'a• o it will not rain on miladi's wed- tl 1: iy, and I thought of the old adage— ''. i+'tppy is the bride the rain falls on, but even as I murmured the words, the t'tin broke over the eastern hills with a aint rosy glow, brightening the eastern t at :aid all the outside world from the latat oak to the tiny grass -blade, began to; Sti): and •rustle with the life of the n tb•born day ,.,, ''Saint lookNannette!" cried Irene, „tven tow the sun is clouding over, I am afraid that it will storm after all." Nanette looked. Yes, a dark cloud was slowly gathering; ere long the sky would be overcast, and that dark cloud certain- ly presaged a coming storm. Y intimate friends that morning;—yet no- thing was thought of this, as it had been the custom of many a bride from time immemorial. "She wants to come forth at the pro- per time such a version of loveliness as will startle us," declared Jessie Reynolds, one of the merry bridesmaids to her com- panions. "I have seen Irene's diamonds, girls," she declared, "and I warn you to prepare yourself to see something just enc encircles hand. ert tneck,. twice, necklaceofsupe that soli- taire diamonds, every one of 'em larger than a good sized pea. And her dress— it's perfectly lovely. You never saw such a magnificent veil, and as for slippers, why, dear me. they are cuteness itself— white satin embroidered in pearls. Irene will look as lovely as a poet's dream." The pretty bridemaids came flustering into the room like a covey of partridges just as Irene's maid was fastening the wroath of orange blossoms on the beau- tiful, dark, curly head, half hidden by the shimmering bridal -veil. interspere sed with with "just too lsweet for aany- thing!" and all such rapturous phrases as enthusiastic young girls are wont to indulge in, at anything that delights them. And well they might be enthusiastic for there never' was a lovelier bride. (To be continued.) guests long before noon; and the old up four closely -written pages with, al- wainscoted rooms and corridors rang with most every other mail. No doubt it was the peal of girlish laughter and merry the same old story—old, yet forever new voices. and sweet to lovers. Irene was not visible even to her most "I should think you would find it an arduous task answering so many letters, Irene, the duchess would often laugh- ingly* declare—"you certainly require the, services of a secretary who is quick with the pen." And then it was decidingly amusing too, to see Irene reading each letter over and over again, as all..girls do their first love -letters. Irene's trousseau arrived at last and it was a marvel of beauty. The white silk gown was certainly a masterpiece of Worth's skill. "I would like to see how you would look in it, Irene," declared the duchess, do slip the gown on a moment." Irene laughingly complied. It was cer- tainly a dazzling picture the long French mirror reflected. "When Frederick Esmond sees 700 look- ing like that he will adore you, said the duchess. • Irene blushed; she was only a young girl, despite all she had gone through, and it was very pleasant to hear 8,444hr welcome and pleasant truths. Time no longer hung Heavily on iiera-i; hands; it clever does .when we have ue pleasant hope tx lool.';for+ward* k ; The ��w��eddlnc''dasi vice, se cat ,Tate, nth lwarta- atzty•u. "dsfd of marriages had trolled aro Esmond bad. deoided that the hope- moon should, be stent in Italy. Irene :fa vored that plan; she was not much of a traveller. The wedding day rolled round at Nast. Irene was awakened early by the 'soft tread of her maid as she flitted to and fro about the boudoir. "Does it rain, Nanette, Ur does the dun shine," Irene asked breathlessly. --'Is that the tapping of the willow branches against the pane—or rain drops?" - Nannette drew back the silken curtains and a flood of bright, warm, invigorating sunshine maimed into the room. • "I am so glad," murmured Irene. "So am I, miladi," replied Nannette, "1 have been watching since day dawn at my window; I was frightened it looked so much like a stormy day at first. When the night -clouds rolled away, they dis- closed a dull, leaden sky, the wind sighed drearily through the branches of the trees and the little birds peeped from their nests, shook their wings and set - Each and Every 5 ackage of P und Extra Granulated Sugar contains 5 pounds full eight of Canada's finest sugar, at its best. Ask your grocer for the cgegezX 5—Pound ackagea yWir/-74 a/iiry///awl//��v�..-��, CANADA SUGAR REFINING CO., Limited, Montreal. 11 trait +. 1 • e. Don't let repairs eat up your profits Whether they -represent actual cash outlay, or, Y ir' onIy the time of yourself and your help, repairs are waste just the same. When you make ani improveinent no matter how small its cost may be—let it be permrxnent.. Then it is a real investment, some- thing on which you can realize in cash should you decide to sell your property; and something that will pay you constant dividends in convenience, sightliness and comfort as long as the farm remains your own. Concrete improvements Are Permanent They last as longi as the very hills themselves. They do not require experts to build them. Their first cost, in most cases, is no more than. for 'inferior materials. :Aren't you interested in the subject of permanent, modern farm improvements Then write for. i.ihe book that describes hundreds of them, "WHAT THE F'A1FdMER GAN DO WITH CONCRETE" It lent a •Catalotyuo„ ,Ewer- oke of Its 160 handsomely ilitastrated pages is Interest- Ing and instructive. They tell how to mix concrete, how to place It, what can be done with it. Tho book was .I>,rinted' to sell Tor 0 cents; but we have a copy tor you, free. Your taarna and .address on a postal will bring thie book 1 Q YOU ABSOLUTELY FREE . Mail for .po ifcard 'to -dray. The book will come to you by return knell. Address C.ANADA CEMENT CO., Ltd. 3e.^35 1MaAL RAMC BUlLDINS MONTREAL,'ld,Q, On the Farm THE RIGHT HORSE, The wise fanner will raise the type of horse best adapted to his• needs, Generally speaking, where. only one team can be kept ,on they farm, the horses should be sizeable• enough to pull.. a plow or draw heavy wagonload . with comparative ease, and at the same time light enough to get along over the roard with a surry or light rig at a fairly good gait. If a farmer keeps a number of horses he will, of course, use the, heavy type for plowing and other heavy farm work, and keep a light, harness team for the road. It is a great mistake to attempt to plow with a team of horses of the harness type. Farmers are, plowing deeply these days, and it is distressing to see a light team. struggling with a heavy plow. The general tendency, therefore, is, when a light team is used, to al- low the plow to skim the ground in order to ease up on the team. If a. team of sturdy draft horses, weigh- ing 1,300 to 1,500 pounds is used, they walk along with a plow, rime . ning from six to eight inches deep, without the slightest distress. The English Clydesdales and crosses resulting from the use of French or German coach horses. make a good all-round farm team. The infusion of the French or Ger- man coach blood produces a horse of good action, while the blood of the Clydesdales, Shires and Perch- erons keeps him heavy enough and close enough to the ground to pull almost any load within reason. DAIRY BRINGS RESULTS. The great value of dairying in connection with mixed or diversified farming is that the cow is a con- stant quantity, so far as her pro- duction of milk is concerned. She can be banked on more than poul- try, hogs or field crops to yield a. constant amount of saleable pro- ducts every week, if she is given a. variety of good- feeds and general good care, This cash coming in at regular, and frequent intervals from dais' '- ing enables the farmer of moderate means to use the money to geed advantage, as it is needed, for gen- eral running expenses and making things go. For this reason the av- erage dairyman should 'become, prosperous and have a well -improv- ed farm. The only regular money crop fur the farm is that which comes from the dairy house. Every week the milk and butter go out and the money comes back. The modern dairymen seldom has' to go to the bank to borrow money to tide him over until .he sells his crops, because he is selling his crops every week. PROVIDE PLENTY OF • S ALT. All farm animals have an instinc- tive craving for salt. But if it is so placed .as to be always within their reach, they will consume just as much as they need, and no more. It is only when it has been kept from them for a long period that there is danger of their eating too much. It is, therefore, an excellent practice to keep it in a box or boxes where they can have access to it whenever they desire. When they are salted, as is the practice with many farmers, only once a week, while some may get enough, others may suffer from a deficient supply. Salt promotes an active circulation of the blood, which never becomes • thick and sluggish so long as the supply is plentiful; it assists diges- tion, and is often a preventive of disease. It is so cheap that no stock -raiser can really afford to deny to his animals all they want of it. FLIES SPREAD DISEASE. The way of the house fly as a dis- ease disseminator has been thor- oughly aired through the press, but that it is also scattering broadcast all sorts of fungus spores comes as shock No. 2, Among the scourges thus scattered scientists have enum- erated; pear rot, brown rot d peach, black rot of the tomato, leaf curl, grapevine mildew, rust ori grains and the fungus growth which have in recent years proved so destructive to sugar cane. Clear,. ly, the disease carriers of the air are''a gigantic curse from the finnan. tial, point of view as well as from a sanitary one, The result isclean-. ri.ness—a removal of all filth. Keep the manure spintt"er gainll,'