HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1909-01-01, Page 3snSVENFROZMI
taelanzaleauseuerenemaaasemaitaxe
"something Must be' done at once,"
her guardian thought, "to control and
keep within praaer bounds that wild,
impetuous dispodatzon.."
Unfortunately the wrong thing was
done. To all the young girl's longing,
eager questions of the. world beyond the
bounds of Serranto, the lady turned a
deaf ear. ` Tike her mother, sho had no
pleasures, no amusements, no compan-
ions. Her day was divided between dry
monotonous duties and hard study; Ma-
• dame Monteleone soldom left her home,
and the child was never allowed to
leave the boundary of the castle. In
vain she asked of the absent father
'whose name she scarcely knew; by ma-
' dame's wish she was called by her own
name of Monteleo-ne, and it was many
years before she knew that she had any
other.
It wvas like old times at Serranto; the
only difference was that every. one was
older. Even the servants forgot at
tunes, and called ' the young lady ; `13i-
amen."
Madame Monteleone never '.once
thought that the life Inez led was 'dull;
Bianca had not found ib so; she had
never complained; she had never asked
questions of .the .great unknown world,
nor seemed to long to join it.- She
never tired of study as Inez did, for that
yotmg lady at times flung dawn her
books and passionately declared that
site would never read another line.
"I want to see men, and women, and
children," she cried one day to her hor-
rified listener. "I see no one but you
and the servants; I. am tired of you all,
'tired of my books and my work. 'Let
ane'see something fresh, or I shall die."
Then did. poor Madame Monteleone
clasp her hands and mourn over the de-
generacy of her dauphter's child.
an interest for beg They belonged to,
nay more, they were part and pared of
that gay world of which she lad. read
and dreamed, but which she had never
seen.
Some who passed by noted the beauti-
ful, wistful face, half hidden by the
leaves of the myrtle trees, and wonder-
ed•, who the lovely, high -bred girl could
be—what she was doing, why she gazed,
days after day, with such longing eyes,
upon the road that led away to Seville.
It was some little break, some change in
the almost unendurable monotony, When
the 'evening shadows began to fall, Inez
hastened home. No one but Juanita
ever saw her enter the house, or knew
of the long hours she spent in the
grounds.
They were not ley extensive, those
grounds of Serranto. Time had been
when Mill, valley, and stream all belong-
ed to the Monteleones. The broad, fere
tile lands had been sold or forfeited, and
little remained of the once large estates;
but that little was picturesque and plea-
sant. The gardens were gorgeous with
•'ewers and fruit. Long groves of m-
ai ge trees ran by the little stream that
found its way into the river near Seville.
Large myrtles lent their shade; trees,
whose rich and luxurious perfume load-
ed the air, grew asethey would. The
grounds were not cultivated; they were
beautiful in their rich and luxuriant
wildness. The boundary that separated
the high road from the grounds was a
;Tory, frail one—a lune of small flowering
;shrubs. By the shrubs, day after day,
,there might have been seen a graceful
�n'dish figure. walking slowly, with
dreamy, wistful eyes gazing on the high
road. •
One evening—ab, to the last day of
her life every detail of Lt was vivid and
clear to Inez Lynne—she was walking as
usual in the grounds. For years after-
ward she remembered how the sun shone
and the flowers bloomed, how the birds
sang and the deep 'blue sky seemed to
smile upon her. Her beautiful, restless
face was turned to the long road that
led. to the city, when she heard the
sound. of a horse galloping quickly.
Looking back, she .saw a horseman vain-
ly trying to restrain his steed. It had
taken fright, and seemed anxious only
to throw its rider and stake its escape.
For many minutes the young girl watch-
ed that encounter•. Her face grew white
with fear, for the horse appeared
•quite unmanageable; but she could
not help admiring the ease and bravery
of its rider. Through all that terrible
contest he never once lost hie nerve or
his self-possession. His courage and
calmness won the victory at last. and
the trembling steed recoguized a master's
hand.
The cavalier was obliged to dismount.
for in the struggle the plumed hat had
fallen from his head, and the silver -
mouthed riding whip lay upon the
ground. As he rinsed them be caught
sight of the beautiful face watching him
so intently. A cry of surprise fell frown
his lips, and he ,geed in bewilderment,
teas ever more solitary,. or more sad.
•Where was the English: father of whom
she heard ever and anon from the old
servants a "few zisysteriotia ' words?
Months ago, ease day when . she had
longed more than ever to leave Serranto,
she went boldly to Madame alonteleone,
and asked where her fetcher wee. Her
heart was touched by the "stately lady's
face, as she folded her in her` arms,; and
said, "You are all minenIner; youwere
given to ine to be my •awn, in your
mother's place. No one in the ~wide
world cares for you but me?' •
With her guardian'.+ tears still,: whet
upon her face, the girl lacked calarege
to say that, the love and care gleagato
her in Serranto were not sufficient—
that she craved for it, fullor.life, evhereiaa,:
she might have solve pleasure• :end hap-
piness
ee
So time passed on, ancl' 4y' :by dad',
the wish and longing for smile' .beak in
her, life's monotony grew stronger. The
time wvas to come, and did come, arias,*„
she looked back to those quiet days with
envy and regret ---wheel she would haao,
given beauty and talent; ah, even , life.
itself, to have been once more a dreamy,
innocent child. But no change came;
winter and summer, spring and autumn,
succeeded one another, and found life
the same at Serranto.
"Seventeen yeare old to -day," said
Inez, one bright morning; "I am seven-
teen; in ten years more I shall be twen-
ty-seven, and the best part of my life
will be over. If soinething does not
happen soon, I shall run away, and make
a life for myself."
Little did Madante Monteleone know
the bitter, rebellydusathoughts. of which
the . proud.. beautiattl face she watched
with growing hope gave no trace.
"You have not been idle, Inez," she
said one day, with some complacency, to
her grandchild. =You play and sing
well; you speak French and Italian
fluently. All accomplishments are use-
ful" .
"I know something more than that,"
retitled iree, triumphantly. "I have
taughtni a#elf English; I can read every
English boot: in the library; I should
be able to ((peak it in a short time if
I went to England."
ea wistful, sad. look came over Ma-
dame Monteleone's face.
"It will be useless, my dear child,"
she said., ."You will never leaye Spain.
You will never_ •see England. There is
something for you to do here—a life's
task. to accomplish."
Those few words, "You will never see
England," sounded like a death -knell to
the bright hopes and faireies upon which`
the young girl had .lived. She made
no reply, but the expression of deter-
mination that fell upon her young face
might have alarmed Madame Monte-
leone had she seen it, and caused her to
fear for her plans.
Already a change was coming; the
ono dark cloud that had hung so heavily
over her, .thee gloomy monotony of the
girl's life was breaking.
Madame Monteleone, while ascending
the stairs, slipped and fell. At first the
little household were dreadfully alarmed,
and believed, when they saw their lady's
still, white face, that she was dead. But,
when the servants raised her and laid
her upon the bed, they found she still
breathed.
In hot haste a psysieian was summon-
ed from Seville. For many long, weary
weeks the poor lady lay between life and
death. She recovered at last, but it was
to find herself a helpless cripple, and to
hear the sad sentence pronounced by the
doctor that she would not be able to
move without assistance.
When the first shock was over, Mad-
ame Mounteleone pondered seriously as
to what step she would take with re -
geed to her young grandchild. Common
sense and reason told her that she
ought to write to Lord Lynne and ask
him to take his daughter; but the trea-
sured idea of her life clung to her still,
and she could not renounce it. "Some-
thing will happen," she said to herself.
"I may recover. Doctors are not infalli-
ble. in any case, I will keep Inez with
rte. If she goes to England, she will
marry an Englishman, as her mother did,
and then farewell forever to the race of
Monteleoue!" So nothing was lvritten
to Lord. Lynne, and he never heard eith-
er of the accident or of the illness of his
daughter's guardian.
Inez found greater .liberty and free
dom than she had ever enjoyed before.
Madame Monteleone never left her room.
She was too nervous to bear any noise
or much conversation, For one hour ev-
ery morning Inez read to her, and receiv-
ed her instructions as to how the day
was to be employed. So many hours
were to be given to music, so many to
reading, and so many to household em-
ployments. The music Inez never miss-
ed; it was the one solitary pleasure of
her life. When that was over, the rest
of the day was all her own. She did
not spend it now as she had been oblig-
ed to do when Madame Monteleone's
quick eyes were upon her, in studying
in one of those dull little rooms that
looked upon the court -yard. Caterina
always sat in Madame's roots, and
Juanita, who was cook and housekeeper,
felt too sorry for the young girl ever
to contool or betray her movements. Sol
when the music was ended, and old Cat-
Brine safe upstairs, Inez wandered in the
grounds of Serranto. The boundary of
them was the high road that led to Sev-
ille, and the poor child gratified seine of
her longings by watching the people who
passed. Sometimes it would be one of
the heroes of her dreams—a cavalier aid -
The life that had contented Bianca
Monteleone was one monotonous weary-
ing round to her beautiful and high-
spirited. daughter. Day by day she be-
came less endurable. A new knowledge
was growing upon her, the knowledge
of her loveliness. Child as she was, she
understood that the face which smiled
at her from the depths of the old mir-
rors was beautiful -beyond words. The
bright dark eyes that flashed there had
a world of strange meaning in them.
"Wlutt is the use of it all?" sighed
the girl; "I am young, and my face is
like the picture in the gallery; but, who
cares for it? --who sees me? who cares
fats my singing or anything else I do?
Was ever life so bare and dull as mine?"•.
Loig hours in the evening gloaming
tat
derin. 1 e world
rld
wverc'spent its nvon 3,H th
^ ' 4i randaBerrrenta tihastabright -
world where gay cavaliers wooed and
W011 beautiful ladies, where dancing, and
mucic, and song gladdened young faces
and light liearts—that world of which
the few romances she had read, un-
known to Madame Monteleone, gave her
fair a glimpse.
Inez Lynne's ardent imagination led
her through all these scenes. Dreaming
among the oranges and myrtles, she saw
herself a queen among gay and gallant
cavaliers; the queen of the tournament,
the belle of the ball, for whose smiles
and kind words men fought and strug-
gled. The time must come for her, as
for all other girls, when sweet love
• words would be whispered to her in the
twilight, when her smile would give rap-
' ture and her frown despair. All these
pictures she made for herself; and while
the sun was still golden in the sky, be-
fore the flowers and birds were quite
' asleep, the sharp voice of old Caterina
would be heard calling the young sig-
' nora in; it was time to close the house
anti go to rest.
After a few cold, formal words with
' Madame Monteleone, the young girl was
dismissed to her room. Standing.by the
. window, watching the sunset and the
moon rise over the Andalusian hills, the
broken.reveries were resumed. The dull,
gleamy castle ceased to exist for her;
' she was in gay palaces and brilliant
rooms. Love and homage surrounded
her; the bravest and noblest sought her
smiles.
From such glowing dreams the girl
ewoko with a shudder to the cold, stern
reality of her life. She lived ab last
almost entirely in dreamland. There all
' was fair and charming, while the reality
was dull and prosaic beyond measure. Lt
was easier for that gifted, artistic, im-
aginative being to make a world for her-
' self and live. m it, than to school her
proud spirit to bear .patiently the mono-
tone: and gloom •of'ltet daily life.
•Many faults, many errors, must be
pardoned her; if there had been any
outlet for that ardent imagination, the
fate 'of Inez Lynne would have been very
different. Properly trained and edu-
cated, she would have made an artist
or an authoress. Her quick, active,
glowing fancy would have found legiti-
mate occupation; as it was, it fed upon
itself until the girl's whole life became
one unreal dream. Even had she known
the future . that Madame Monteleone
destined for her, it would have been
: better, but that lady, frightened and
rendered cautious by her failure with
' Bianca, said nothing to Inez of Madrid,
the court, or the grand mariage she ex-
• pected to make. "Let it come upon her
suddenly," she thought; and she will
' all the more probably comply with my
wishes."
No word was said to Inez that gave
her any prospect or hopes of brighter
days. "I shall live here," she said to
herself, "until I am old and wrinkled
and cross as grandmamma. What will
nay life have peonl—how shall I bear it
th tt
lath • Iona years?"
With as crimson face and heart beating
loudly she concealed hersefl behind, a
group of trees. She heard how the rider
slackened his pace as he drew near the
shrubs where he had seen her. He
drew Iain there, end sat for some min.
Utes looking over the grounds of Sor.
Lento. She could not sec the disapponit-
ment that clouded his face; then ate
turned and galloped back to Seville.
"ire came un purpose to see mc,"- she
cried to herself. "Ile looked and waited
for rte. He has thought of me, just as I
have of hien."
"Where have you been, signorina?"
cried old Juauita, when she saw the
young girl entering the house. "How
well you look! You have a color like a
damask rose, and your eyes are as bright
as two stars. Whet has come over you?"
"Is mine really a nice face, Nita?"
asked Inez., simply. "Tell me, if you
were to ,sea my face once, would you
think of it, and want to see it again?"
"Listen to the child!" cried the old
servant, in affected horror. "Did ever
any one ask such questions. Your face
is well enough, signorina. It is the mind,
not the body, we must care for." Then,
seeing something like disapponitment in
those questioning eyes, she said: "It is
a bonny, bright face, young lady. You
will know its value some day," she add-
ed,
dded, shilling as she spoke.
It was a break in the monotony at
last. There was something to dream
about; a real incident had happened,
more interesting and exciting =hair any
she had ever dreamed of, and she was
the heroine.
Impatiently enough Inez waited for
the text day. It rose at lase, 'alight
and beautiful as ite predecessor had
been. Her first thought was:. Shall I
see him? 'Will he come?"
Even Madame Monteleone remarked
how bright and radiant the young fare
was that smiled upon her, how fresh
the musical voice that gaily bade her
good -morning.
"How beautiful she is!" said the lady
to herself, with a deep sigh; "more lovely
by far than her mother ever was. If
I were but well now, all would t:c safe."
When the hour's reading was ended,
Madame Monteleone kissed. Inez store
tenderly than usual as she dismissed
her.
"This long day," said Inez to herself;
"I have this lung day before n:v. \Vial he
conte?"
When the evening hour drew' near,
again she waited, and, hearing once more
the horse's gallop, sho watched ,lnrit.g
the long pause the rider made by the
shrubs, and heard. his half -muttered ex-
elametions of disappointment at not see-
ing
eo-ing liea livery day during that bright,
long week the same -thing happened;
and from behind the trees he watched
the gallant young cavalier. She was too
shy- and tmid to let herself be seen; but
the day would have been blank to ber
that did not bring him past Serrauto.
One evening it was past the usual
time; she had been reading for nearly
an hour in her usual hidnig-plane, but
there was no sound of a horse's p.
No words can describe the blank feeling
of desolation that
seized thegirl's
heart.
"He has forgotten me,' slie.saillee;`13•Ib..
is tired of never seeing me, and will not
come again."
(To be continued,)
oxamemasimehot
THE TORTURES
WOMEN SUFFER
Can be Relieved by Keeping the
Blood $supply Reich With Dr,.
'Williams' Pink Pills,
A woman needs a blood -Building
medicine regularly just because she is
a woman. From maty to middle
Life, the health and happituriness of every
woman depends upon her blood, its rich-
ness and its regularity. If her blood is
poor and watery she is weak, languid,
pale and nervous. If her blood: supply ,
is irregular she suffers from headaches,
backaches, sideaehes and other unspeak-
able distress which only women know.
Some women have grown to expect this
suffering at regular intervals and to
bear it in hopeless silence. But women
would escape much of this misery if
they took a box pr two of Dr. Williams
Pink Pills to help them over each criti-
cal period. These Pills actually make
new blood. They help a woman just
when nature makes the greatest demand:
upon her blood supply. They have done
this for thousand& of women throughout
Canada; why not for you?
Mrs. Joseph I%inney, Gilbert's Cove,
N. S., says: "For ten years I suffered
from nervousness and those troubles that
make the lives of 'so many women one
of almost constant misery. At times I
would be o,onfined to my bed for weeks -
I spent sleepless nights and seemed to
lost all courage. I tried several doctors,
but they failed to give nee any relief.
The last doctor I consulted told me
frankly that he could not undertake any
case unless I would undergo an exam-
ination. It was then that I decided to
give Dr. Williams' Pink Pills a trial.
After taking six boxes I was much im-
proved in health, but I continued to
take the pills for a couple of months
more when I felt like a new woman, and
was enjoying such health as I had not
experienced for ten years before. I have
had no return of this trouble since, but
I have used the Pills once since that
time for the after effects of la grippe,
aazul the result was was all i hoped.
These are plain facts from my own ex-
perience, and I have always felt tluit I
cannot too strongly recommend Dr.
Williatnts' Pink Pills to the many wo- •
men who suffer as I did."
You can get these Pills from any
dealer in medicine or by mail at 50 cents
a box or six boxes for $2.50 from The
Dr. Williams' Medicine Ce., Brockville,
Ont.
douletiaig. witethex';
ity. But wheal
Buell .that coy
dark Cges erOkpt
'gy
knew that it . was abeautiful reality
which had so greatly startled him. Rais-
ing hi., hat, he bowed profoundly to the
young girl, and galloped away. She
had -seer his face distinctly! it was
dark and handsome; but had tate poor,
motherless child been older, she would
have distrusted at a glance those false
lips and those deep, piercing eyes• As it
wa•s, she saw but the beauty of the first
face that had ever looked admiringly
upon her. She remembered the thick,
dark curls upon the broad, sunburnt
brow, the dark mustache that concealed
the treacherous lips, the deep, dark eyes
that had gazed so ardently upon her. Ile
belonged to the gay world. Perhaps even
then, she thought, he might be ]fasten-
ing to see some lovely lady who would
smile upon him and call him her knight.
How handsome, how brave, how cour-
teous he was!
That night when Inez dreamed her
dreams, she had a real hero for them;
andhe lost nothing from her vivid,
graceful faney
was avision or real -
am the rich crimson
,the face, and the
title
lits -gaze; 'he
ro g at full speed. Carriages, ladies,
Wildly enough elle beat against the ingg ,
here, hist all in vain.~ No biririii a cage country people -all and everything had
HIS PAINS MD
ACHES AR GONE
Dodd's Kidney Pills Carred Chas.
N. Cyr's Rheumatism.
Statement of a Man Who Suffered for
a Year From Different Forms of
Kidney Disease and Found a
Speedy Cure.
New IticItmond Station, Que., Dec. ''21.
—(special.)' -•-In these cold fall days
when Rheumatism, Sciatica, Backache
and other Kidney• Diseases are working
havoc in every corner of Canada, thou-
sands will be interested in the statement
of kir. Chas. N. Cyr, the well-known bar-
ber of this place.
"I had been a sufferer from Rheuma-
tism and Backache for a year," Mr. Cyr
states. "My head also troubled me and
it was hard to collect my thoughts. I
heard of cures made by Dodd's Kidney
Pills, and made up my mind to try them.
The marvellous effect of the first box on
my system at once raised my hopes, and
by continuing to take them I am now a
sound and well man. All my pains and
aches are gone and I am able to do nay
work without pain."
Mr. ('yr is duly one of 'thousands
whom Dodd's Kidney Pills have cured
of Rheumatism, Sciatica and Backache.
For Dodd's Kidney Pills always euro
sick or disordered Kidneys. And it
your Kidneys are well yeti can't have
Rheumatism, Sciatica or Backache.
CHAPTER XVII.
"I wonder," thought Inez to herself,
"if I shall ever see that face again."
She had seen so few strange faces that
a young and handsome one was sure to
interest her. No visitors ever came to
Serranto. Madame Monteleone had
never even during her daughter's life-
time visited, for she knew . no one in
or near Seville, The.friends of her youth
were all far away; most of them resided
in Madrid. She had not cared to make
new acquaintances when she brought
little Bianca to Serranto so many years
ago. She saw 110 use in it. There was
no one there likely to help her in the
object for which she lived. Isolated from
the world, site had found her happiness
in the discharge ,af her deity and in
planning the restoration of the Monte-
loones. Isolated from the world, lees
found her sole pleasure in longing for it
and dreaming of it.
This face that had smiled et her with
such vivid admiration shining in the
dark eyes, was the first of its kind she
had seen. It was a dream coming true.
The heroes she had made for herself
were bravo and courteous like hint,
Would he remember her? Would he
ever think of her again? Perhasp not,
for he saw beautiful ladies every day.
"If ever he rides on the highway again,
I wonder whether he will look for me?"
she thought.
That wonder increased until Inez felt
it must be gratified. When the evening
came she went out to the boundary line.
Up and down the hard road those beau-
tiful, wistful eyes wandered; but tkere
was no sign this evening of the gallant
rider and his horse. She could not tell
if ole was disappointed; she lad neither
hoped nor expected to see him; she had
only wondered if he would pass by again,
Suddenly upon the calm evening
breeze there came the sound of a horse's
rapid gallop. Evan in the .far distance
The; knew the plumed hat and the dark
face.
A Word of Encouragement.
Mrs. O'Toole—She's talon 'on awful.
Her husband got three years—but he
kin git twelve months off for good be-
havior.
Mrs. Dooley—Tell her to rest aisy.
Sure an' he may not behave himself.—
Life,_
Repeat it:—" Shiloh's Cure will al-
ways cure my'coughsand colas,]'-.
TO KNEAD BREAD.
Where
Bullets are Thickest.
The adjutant had just lectured a squad
of recruits 011 company drill, battalion
drill, and every other forst of move-
ment that he could think of, and at Iast
threw in a little instruction of his own
on personal behavior in the face of the
enemy.
"On the field of battle a brave soldier
will always be found where the bullets
are thickest, you understand. Private
Jones, where would you be found, then,
on the battlefield?"
Private Jones— In the
wagon, sin—Tit-Bits.
Repeat its—"5Shiloh's Cure will
always cure my coughs and colds."
A HELPFUL SUGGESTION.
Mies Cunning—Why don't you pro-
pose to her by telephone theta?
Mr. Hanley—Maybe she wouldn't
know who 1 was.
Miss Cunning—Exactly; that night.
help you: chances.
In Common Use in France, -1,000
Pounds Kneaded at a Time
The American Consul at Lvous,
France, reports that during September
there was an exhibition of mechanical
bread. kneaders in that city at which ,1G
mechanical devices were exhibited for
kneading bread by power.
Three were Geriiaan inventions; all the
others were French. The prices varied.
from 500 francs ($06.60) to 4,000 francs
($772). Most of them are by steam or
electricity, but all may be worker by
hand or gas or petroleum 'engines.
£'hese machines will knead from 300
to 1,000 pounds of bread in an hour or
in less time, and they will knead from
one pound of bread up to 500 pounds.
They are used in nearly every bakery
in Frame, and the old style of kneading
by hand is nearly out of use.
The troughs in which the dough is
kneaded in these machines are generally
about four feet in diameter. When the
work of kneading is in progress the
trough turns round slowly, and the
dough is turned over by a system of me-
tallic claws which lift it up, thtowv it
over and give it a thorough turning as
completely as could be done by hand. By
this system every part of the dough is
thoroughly kneaded.
It is said that the bread. made by this
systont is better than the article made
by the old method. The mechanical
bread kneader employed in France some
twenty-five years ago became very tee
popular, but upon investigation the.
cause of the unpopularity was found tb
be in the poor quality of flour used. It
is now considered beyond dispute that
the mechanical broad kneader produces
better bread; that it is healthier than
the bread made by the old methods.
Only one "BROMO QUININE"
Look
?or the elaaatis ure o IVE E.11 GROVE. '(z0110 eal the
World over to pure, C* lc! to Ono Day. 2Se,
Beyond Words.
A cnstermonger while trundling his
apple laden cart sown a London . street
was run into by a coaching party. The
crater's cart got the worst of it, losing
-tt wheel, and its rudely freight being
Scattered. all over the street, The
driver of the coach came book to settle
for the damage and-nxpeeted to came in
for a volley of ohoiee cursing. But the
coster looked at his cart, looked at hies
apples, looked at the coach, and filially
gasped out; "Guv'nei', dere eyen't no
word for it! "—Argonaut.
..-._ a
Repeat
its—"Shiloh's Cure will always
cure my coughs and colds."'
ammunition