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The Herald, 1912-06-14, Page 7OR, THE ,DUEL IN THE GLEN. CHAPTER KXV.—(Cont'd) Very slowly the dark eyes open; Irene prings to her feet with a low, 'terrified cry, Was it some dark, terrible dream that had clutched so heavily at her heart? Her eyes encountered the vial that had fallen frons the doctor's band to the floor, then wandered to the white face lying against the pillow, and then, Hee. ven help her, Irene remembered all, and the cry that fell from her lips was pitiful to hear. She sprung to her feet, gazing in terror at that stark, white face, crying out that ;Me had killed him. "God be merciful to me," she moaned, in her terror. "Oh. if it were to be done over again, Leon Forrester, and .I could give. my life to save yours, I would do it," she cried. When the doctors entered. and gathered around his bedside for consultation, what would that ghastly, grayishface tell them, she wondered, vaguely? Would they discover the cause of death—that the me- dicine had not been administered? What could she say in self-defence—that sleep had overcome her? Sleep! hove could she say that she had dared to sleep when a human life was entrusted to her care? Kneeling there, beside that couch, Irene suffered a lifetime of misery. How the terrible moments passed she never knew. She heard the tread of feet n the corridor without, and she knew hat it must be the consulting ,physioi- Ons, who made their tours at regular in- , rvals—they are coming at last. ehe could hear their low, hushed voic- es they entered the door, their ex- ssion of hope that they would find the dition of No. 23 much improved; the erful inhaling vapor would draw him ek from the gates of death, if anything ld. ow the beautiful,.hopeless woman cow- ed as she heard the words; how she ished in that moment that God would trike her dead for yielding to the bit- rly-cruel temptation to withhold the ife-giving inhalation. There had been a time when in this very hospital they had given her the name, "the Angel of the Helpless." Oh, if the' but knew—oh, if they but knew what she had done! Very softly they advanced, and stood around the sufferer's couch. 'How is our patient?" asked one of the doctor's, bend- ing his ear down to listen to the faint i throbbing of the sufferer's heart. The words were addressed to Irene, but she dared not look up or raise her head from the coverlet lest they should read the horriblwe guilty fear and despair in the death -white face and terrir-stricken eyes. She neither moved nor spoke; she could not have replied if her life had de. 1 pended upon the utterance of a single 'i word. a moment, that seemed the length of eternity to the guilty creature crouch- Forrng there, a death -like silence reigned in the room. Were the doctors looking at each other with horror in their faces, Irene wondered, vaguely. Would the hor- rible stillness be broken by the stern, aw- ful words, "What does this, mean?- The ...J medicine has not been given patient!" For, ,of. course, the wise doctors would Ltow-oh, yes, they ,would know,' How n • ::ice the aileuee grew. Were they to her with gegniiicant fares? .0 wished she dare raise her face, see what this: silence meant; see what :ws passing around her! It was one of the matrons who spoke—she had bent over tlhe dark face lying against the pil- low with bated breath; then a sharp cry broke from her lips. Doctor," she cried, her love voice quiv- ering with alarm. "this is not life! See the gray pallor round the mouth—the gglaze of death is creeping over these eyes; death -damp stands out on the high fore- head. The sightof death is not new to me—the man is dying!" Ah, me! how the wind among the trees, whose leafy branches fluttered against the easement, seemed to take up the word with a low, moaning shriek and whisper it to the whole world outside! And it whispered something else, too; something that only Irene, kneeling in such abject terror at Leon Forrester's bedside, knew and understood. Irene wondered vaguely why the doctors did not answer the start- ling, vehement words that fell from the matron's lips. The stranger is dying," repeated the matron. It looks strangely, startlingly like it," responded one of the physicians, gravely. "If you ladies will kindly leave the room we will 'held a consultation. The case seems to have taken an unusual turn. I am mystified; as you say, my dear mat- ron, the man before us has every ap- pearance of death." Only Heaven alone knew of the super- human effort Irene put forth to prevent giving utterance to the shrieks of terror that seemed to rise up in her throat and stifle her. Like one stricken blind, she struggled up from her knees, and groped her way --e.with unsteady steps from the room. o rfi: No one seemed to notice her, every thought seethed bent upon the sick man. o Vii' She made her way down the cool, wide corridor, past the patients who, in by- gone days had blessed her and kissed the o' i folds of her robes with reverend lips, cal- ing her the Angel of the Helpless. How stealthily Irene crept past them, her head bent dejectedly on her breast, crept down into the silence of the garden, throwing therself upon her knees asilong the long rasses and lifting her white face to the ening sunlight. She dared not pray, 'Though the white lips moved dumbly. here was no pardon for what she had 'done. Glancing up toward the windows, she saw the doctors move hurriedly to and fro with white faces; sho knew what that meant, oh, yes, she knew. It told -her throbbing heart that Leon Forrester was dead. It is ober. ever mill ured ;t on :ring ially SETS TAWA promotes appetite, assists digestion and builds up sound health, For 26 years we have recommended Bovril for these reasons and they have now been established by strict physiological tests made by W. H. Thomp.. son, M. D., D. Sc., of Trinity College, Dublin. How long Irene knelt in the garish sun- light, among the tall grasses, sho never knew; a step aroused her; sho looked up i_ affright and saw one of the doctors approaching. "He is coming to tell me Leon .Forres- ter is dead," she thought. "Ile knows all. He has come to accuse me. Heaven pity and direct me! What shall I do?" The doctor rapidly Dame nearer. A vague presentiment crossed Irene's mind that he was searehing for her, and a wild, mad impulse to fly, to hide herself, anywhere—anywhere—occurred to her. She saw now how imminent was her peril. She had stood quietly by while a life had slowly drifted out, without lifting her hand to save it, yet she might have saved Leon Forrester .12 she would. Ah Yee, the could have saved him, but she did not. Now they were coming to accuse her of it. With a white, ghastly face, and eyes di- lating with fear, Irene struggled to her feet, and lied swiftly through the green, sunlit grounds that surrounded the hos- pital, ran fleetly—swiftly, to hide in the thick green coverts of the park; but the swift foptsteps seemed to gain upon her, It was no delusion then; they had' dis- covered what she had done, and they were pursuing her. At that moment she was mad with fear. And of all the pain she had suffered none was so great as this she suffered hiding among the green trees on which the golden sunlight fell, hiding in fear, and abject terror. No one could deny the swift and sure punishment of sin who could have seen that white terror -distorted face; and the wild, frightened eyes peering out from the midst of the thick, green leaves. She had hoped that the doctor had not seen her, that he would pass her by; but when he had reached the lilac bushes be- hind which she crouched in the long, green grass he paused. With folded arms young Dr. Ross gazed pityingly down on the white face cower- ing at the foot of the gnarled beech trees. With gentle hands ho raised her, placing her upon one of the garden chairs. He was touched by the sight of her ut- ter terror and abject fear. Alas! how fa- tally lovely she was in her helplessness. Even had he come there to condemn her, he would have found that the words would have died on her lips unuttered. The eyes looking down into her own with such a strange light in them, ter - rifled her more than words could have done. "It is right that you should feel re- morse for what you have done; or rather for what you failed to do," broke in Dr. Ross, sternly, still, you need not stand in such terror of me, although, I know all. I and I alone am possessed of your secret," he said, slowly. With a superhuman effort Irene raised her dark dazed eyes to his face. CHAPTER XXVI. "I know all," he repeated; "by chance I offered my services to take the place of another doctor by the bedside of No. 23. As I entered the ward, approaching the cot, I could not help but hear the words that fell from your lips, _whiah fairly paralyzed hue with horror. ° Suffice it to- say I administered the inhaling'vallor you dashed from you, and which has saved the patient's life—he will live."- "Oh, sir, as you are strong, be mod - full" she wailed; "/ was so sorely tomp't- ed, I did not mean to do wrone. I could have died. sooner than harm one hair of his head—I—oh, be merciful, and spare me." I do not want to be anything but mer- ciful," he said, "at the same tune I should be Just." The cry of mortal terror that fell from her lips was pitiful to hear; then she looked up into his face with the calmness of utter despair. "I shall not be harsh and cruel to you," he went on, steadily;—"I would rather shield you, than betray you. I will tell you why I will keep the knowledge of what you have done from the world," he went on,—"It is because I once loved you, Irene—and I love—you still." A thunderbolt falling from a clear, sun- lit sky at her feet could not have start- led Irene more. This dark, bronzed -faced, bearded doctor whom she never remem- bered. having seen before, loved her; why —surely, the man was mad," "You have looked into my face and have not recognized me; suns of foreign coun- tries have tanned me; and, together with this dark heavy beard, I am no doubt greatly changed—yet in me, you behold one who will befriend and protect you, if 1 you so will it—Victor Ross—your cls lover." A cry of dismay broke from Irene's lips. - 1 "You are not—Victor—Ross—surely," she gasped. Yes, I am lie," he responded. As she looked up into his doe, she saw it was as he said—greatly altered.. A sudden inspiration came to her: could she ,prevail upon him to keep her secret? He loved her once well enough to shield her from the world's scorn; surely she might influence him now—she would try. bench and flung herself the green grdass at his feet, clinging to him with hot, burn. ing hands, so imploringly, so beseeching - fly that he was compelled to listen. "You will not betray me," she sobbed; "by the old love which one filled your t heart for me, I pray you to shield me now. Keep my secret—never let the world know and I will atone for it all the years of my after life. I was mad to listen to the tempter's voice-emadder still to yield to it!" Victor Ross took her burning hands in his and raised her to her feat, itis pas- sionate eyes devouring her fair loveli- ness. She was more beautiful to him, with all her faults, than a sriet would have been. "You say you hoard all," sho went on, piteously, "I can only add I am marred to another—one whom I love—never dream- ing he still lived—and—and—I have a lit- tle child, Victor—a lovely little girl. For the sake of my husband and little child, Victor, I pray you—I plead with you not to let the world know what you have seen and heard." "Who is it that you have married, Irene," he asked, in a cold, hard voice, and she answered slowly—"Frederick Esmond." Esmond—any—rival!" he exclaimed — "you married him then, after all?" "Yes," she moaned, feebly, "and,—and— we have been so happy ever since, Vie - tor." His face darkened - angrily when he heard her say that, and, the hard lines settled about his mouth, "Tell me what it es that you want me to do," he said. "I am not quite sure that I understand," "I want you to keep my secret, for- ever," she sobbed, --"my husband does not know that I was ever 111v—his—wife." "Forrester's you mean," he interrogat- ed, grimly.' She nodded her head dumbly— Frederick does not know one word of the past," she sobbed—"nor, need he ever know. Thus man Is blind, 'he could never find me, See how humbly 1 plead with you on my knees, Victor, to keep irks?ved secret. You lome once—by that love spare me now, "I loved you well, Irene," he said, "but I love honor more. You are nothing to Frederick Esmond; by your own cozies. Edon you are this other mans wife; Es- mond has no claim upon yon"—and a strange light flashed into his eyes as he uttered. the words—a fierce light thri,t made her cower and tremble, "Do you rememb,ir what 1 told you once, Irene?" he said, "on the day when I part- ed from youP" She shook her dark 'head, and he went on 'slowly, "I told you then that I should be the bitterest foe—even to the . (loath— es long as my life Imbed, of the man who won you from me; and now, with the weapon, so to speak, in my hand; which will part you from him, think you I will fail to use it? There is but one, way to seal my ,lips, Irene; but one means of keeping- this scandalous story from the world. You must part from Es- mond at once and forever—part from him and his child. Go where you will. Under that condition, and that condition only, I will take a solemn vow that your sec- ret shall never pass my lips." "I cannot give up Frederick and in:y little child," she moaned, the pangs of death would be easier to bear. Oh, Vic- tor! what would the alternative be?" He stooped down and whispered a few words in her ear; she fell back against: thegarden bench, white as death. "Oh God, be merciful, I cannot give np Frederick and my little child," she re peated, vehemently, 'they are part of my. heart, part of any soul." "Then I will go to Esmond, the man you are now duping, and tell him all,' cried Dr. Ross, hoarsely. "Think how Es- mond will scorn and abhor you, when lie has heard your story. Ile will turn you from his door," he went on, vehemently. "Leave him quietly, Irene, and save your reputation before the world; .stay, and you face the penalty. You must decide here and now.' "Give me a little time to think," so wailed, one short hour." He bowed. "I will leave you, Irene;" he said; "in an hour from now I will re- turn—you will be here?" She bowed her dark head. He turned and walked away. The sound' of his footsteps died away on the pebbled, walk; then with a cry, so bitter, it startled even the singing birds from their nests in the trees, she fell forward, burying her face in the long, daisy „studded grass. The sun shone over her as she lay there; the summer winds swept over her, odor- ous with the breath of roses. She lay there, heedless of what was transpiring about her—wildly praying for death. "Was it a dream—a hideous night- mare—the events of the last hour," she asked herself. Was she, who had always shuddered at the hare mention of sin; elle, who had grieved with all the pitying tenderness of her heart over a butterfly's broken wing, or a robin's death. Could it be true that the blackest and most pitiful of all charges that could be written against a human being's name was en- tered against hers? Would the word "guilty" be written against it? The world is severe in its censure and condemnation; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a life for a life, are its sentiments. She tried to look the great sorrow that had fallen upon her, fully in the face. Sho thought of her luxurious home, of the handsome young husband, awaiting her return, who was dearer than life it- self to her; of the lovely, laughing child, whom she had left playing on the lawn, round whom ,tor heart was twined so closely. I cannot part from them," she wailed; "Oh, God, I cannot!" Then on the other hand, she could see the blank horror and disgrace that would fall upon her if they knew all. Would it bo best to leave quietly. leave her husband and little child—letting Frederick think what he would; or. re.. Because they' adt so gently (no purging or griping) yet so thoroughly NAD U- CO LAX TIVE$ are best for the children as well as the grown-ups, 25o. a box at your druggist's. National Drug and Chemical Co, of Canade,Limited 162 IMINIximisaar h and Every 5 package of Pound Extra Granulated Sugar c ntains 5 pounds full weight f Canada's finest sugar, at its best. Ask your grocer for the 5 i{i,.,xm4i,?>`sfcl�"cc t14.w,':Ji,.uS*t. CANADA SUGAR REFINING CO., Limited, Montreal. 11 ;actn v,r„ ax.tirs main, to disgrace them before the world —and then to be turned from Frederick's door after all. The picture was maddening! She knew well that he might have for- given her the biter deception of keep- ing that Horrible past from him But would he ever forgive her for yielding to the awful black temptation that had prompted her to see feat convict's life drifting from this world, to the un- known, when, by stretching out her hand, she .could have saved him. No matter whom or what he was, a human life was worth saving. She could picture Frederick's horror and 'dismay. Ah, she could never endure to see that look on his face; better exile —death—than that. Ah, yes, surely he would abhor her when he keew all; after all 11 was showing her mercy, as Victor Rose had said, allowing her to go quiet- ly away and keeping her pitiful secret. The sound of footsteps on the gravel path warned her of Victor Ross' return. A moment later and he stood before her. "You have come to a decision, Irene?" he said. She raised her great, dark, woful eves tohis face, and in a voice tint sounded like nothing human, answered:— I will go—away. God help me! I will leave Frederick and my child—my dar- ling! /2 you will pledge yourself to keep my bitter secret from the world and from them, forever, But-I—I—cannot go aed leave' them -I cannot part from them with*welting on their faces just once age_ . *OLIA'TER n end; _walked slowly away,. s grieltaa after' - her with a lit In his eyes.' " s her from me, Frederick Es - m074 ".au muttered, "and now, 1 have parted two forever. I told you + re encu Mo ake a bitter vengeance on the ntan N ho ';came between us if it v ere ever in my power, and I have kept my word." Ile knew it was an ignoble thing which be had done -holding his knowledge of her secret as a sword over her head to Port her from his rival, but he excused himself by deelaring over and over again, as he paced up and down under the trees,'.that the course he bad pointed out to Irene was the only one open to Mier. Part from Esmond she must—there was no question about that; and, keep- ing that which he had discovered from the world, was an act of kindness toward her. Would sho ever turn to him in the far- off future for advice or ecomfort? he won- dered, vaguely, and wild, exultant day- dreams filled his brain of that future, which was built around Irene. Meanwhile, Irene had entered the wide corridor, and had groped her war like one suddenly stricken blind to the recep- tion -room; there sho found her friends waiting for her. "011, Irene,"- cried Miss Reynolds, "we have been looking everywhere for you; where have you been? We—" She stopped short, as she caught sight of Irene's face. "011. Irene," exclaimed her companions in a breath, "are you i11? Your face is as whi.e as death, and you are trembling violently," and they crowded about her with great solicitude. By a great effort, Irene rallied; she forced a smile to her lips. They did not see how tightly the white, ringed hands were clutched together over her heart. "I felt a little faint," she said, "and I went out into the grounds and sat down under the trees. i—I—am better, now. I pray you do not give yourselves any un- easiness on my account; do not let me spoil your pleasure." During the :hive homeward, she talked, laughed, and jest- ed; no one would have thought to have seen her, that her heart was breaking. She was crying out to Heaven, that this I ride would never end. They were to dine with her. She must sit through torturesome hours and en- tertain them. When they drove through the high arched gateway, Irene. looked eeagerly around- for her child. ,Li'ttle. Ruby, was not In sight,,, As soon as -thew rt,ac:lrled the drawing -room; Irene rang for her ,maid "Send Ruby to me, hero, at oneo," she ordered, and to the maid's astonishment she added,—"Ruby will dine with us to- day." ' 1 The girl soon returned with the Intel- ;ligenoo the child was out with Nanette, her nurse. Irene never knew ,how the rest of the afternoon wore away. She did her best to keep the thread of her guest's conver- sation, to reply to their small talk; and it was the greatest effort of her life. Ah, Heaven, would they never go! They took their departure at last, just as the great lamps were being lighted in the parks, and the stars were commenc- ing to come out in the evening sky. (To be continued.] 0 When President Taft and ;Col Roosevelt are through they must clean vp. "2 in x" Shoe Polish sS the very best thing for their boots as all good. Canadians and Americans realize. i AT ALL DEALERS 10e.. At with their mud slinging, Dcwt by test. Will not soil the daintiest gar - vents. Quick brilliant, lasting. Na other even half as good. 3o BLUEJACKETS' GRIEVANCES DISCONTENT GROWS IN RBI.. TISH NAVY. Needs of the Sailors Overlooked in the Craze for Big WSrshins. The spirit of unrest and dissatis- faction with the things that are has now spread to the army and navy, writes a London correspondent: Tommy Atkins for the moment holds his peace, but his. brother in arms, the, jack tar; is fully alive to the fact that now is the time to air his grievances and to press Mr their removal. Such a thing 'as a blue- jackets' trade union of course does not exist. The regulations express- ly forbid any such combination. But things have •wane to such a pass that the 100,000 sailor's of the Royal navy contemplate .setting the King's regulations and Admiralty instructions at defiance by forming themselves into a trade union. Tothose who have .stud+_ed the question closely this determination will not come as a surprise. It has long been . a matter of common knowledge that in the navy discon- tent amounting almost to a. muti- nous spirit has been growing. It is no exaggeration to say that a continuance of the present state of affairs constitutes a grave national scandal. In the first place the regulations have compelled the men to suffer their injustices in silence. They are not allowed even to petition the Admiralty through their command- ing officers. Secondly, people have been taught to regard the seaman, and particularly the British man-a'- wal'sman, as a born gambler, as a man who would cavil at Paradise and whose complaints -therefore are not to be taken seriously. Thirdly, the Dreadnought craze has taken fast hold of the nation and little at- tention is given to the needs of the men. TIME TO WAKE UP. It is high time that these ideas should go by the board. It is time for the nation and the naval author- ities to realize that petty officers and men with a full sense of their risk and responsibility are advocat- h } ing publicly the amalgamation of all d t0 one n r k ..ociet es "t� de4 l n o strong enough to ilemati dress of their 'grievances by meth- ods with which the industrial his- tory of the last year or two has made us painfully familiar. The sailor has been patted On the back long enough, The pro - :cess is not unpleasing, but at best it means nothing, it leads to no substantial recognition of the blue- jackets' admitted grievances. What Jack wants now is to be treated fairly as a citizen, and if he must be patted that the other hand shall not be employed in the extraction of cents from his pocket. The fact is the men of the navy are now being paid less than they were. A comparison between the estimates of 1909-10 and those for the current year shows that in four years the pay of petty officers and mon of the seaman branch has drop- ped on the average 55.80 a year. The average weekly wage, inclusive of these allowances for various qualifications of which so much is made, is slightly under 53.50. Some years ago the Admiralty in- ereased the period required to serve for pensions from 20 to 22 years; but although until then the basis of the pension had been a cent a day for each year's service, no ad- dition to the basis was macre for the extra period required. A man gets no more for serving 22 years than he did for serving 20; and while. the whole pension scheme is based on the deferred pay system the de- pendents of a man urho dies in the 21st year of his service ',et nothing at all. GRATUITY REDUCED. Another instance of this sort of thing is the gratuity to chief petty officers on retirement, which,- once fixed at $96, has been reduced by the Admiralty to $i2. A petty officer who is disrnted and reduced to A.B. has absolutely no appeal—his case is settled out of hand by the ship's captain, who, as it frequently happens, is at the same time prosecutor and judge - Mr. Yexley points out in the cur- rent iso:ue of the Fleet that it is a fairly easy matter for a man to suffer a financial loss of • nearly 51,448 :in pay and ;pension "as the result of a summary punishment in- 'flicted by ono captain for a `erima' that another would not deign to no- tice," In such circumstances a. man is sore'l'y entitled to the jus- tine of a court -;martial.