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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1909-01-22, Page 3! J el4 S 1,4 0' , r '.. rr� ssessesse 'W' 41$ N.Ciikki!t`t+,'keW.:'+"i... 4 - !f •,, -1p:saY Then camp the dreary waiting near the orange grove, the hurried visit of Luigi, who looked graver and more anx- ious every day. She always tried to seem: cheerful, that Rinaldo might not grieve over her; then followed the night of tears and lonely sorrow. "Will it ever end?" cried the poor young wife. "Shall I ever be hapPY ' agafinr" 'titan a deadly fear would seize hor, lest this long illness should be dangerous and she might never see her husband again. She suffered an agony that was rendered still more acute by her solitude and isolation. One evening—Inez never forgot it— when she reaehedt he orange grove, Luigi was already there. The first glance at his face filled her heart with silent dread. She read in it something like sorrow, nervous hesitation, and fear. "S could not come last evening," he said. "Rinaldo was worse, and I have sad news for you." She grew pale as death, and her lips quivered as she lookede at him. "Sit down here," he said, "and I will tell you all. Promise me to .be brave, as all Spanish women are in the hour of trial." "Tell me all," she said, in a low, hoarse voice, unlike her own. Then gently and tenderly he told her that Rinaldo was dead. Once he paused, for the rigid white face alarmed him, and he thought sho was going to die; but: she looked at him, and he continued his story—Itow, two days ago, Rinaldo had been "seized with the fatal fever raging in Seville; and how, weakened by his previous illness, he had succumbed to it immediately. "Before he died," Luigi continued, "he was conscious for one half hour, and that he spent in talk- ing to ane of you." Ho waited then to see if she would speak; but no words came; nothiug broke the terrible stillness of that white face. He had expected a torrent of pas- eionate tears, but the large, dark eyes were dry and burning, full of a dreadful horror. His heart smote him as he look- ed upon her. If she had'wept as women weep, he would have cared less; this grief was beyond him—he did not un- derstand it. Then he drew forth a lit- tle packet, and laid it in her hands; it contained a lock of dark, curling hair, and a plain signet ring. "IIe wished me to bring you these," continued Luigi. "The chain you gave him is round his neck; it has never been removed." Then he spoke: "I must see- him,",she cried, just once again, Luigi Carnello, Nothing on earth shall prevent me. I will see him once again—then I can die, too." nervous look came over the young man's face, and he said. gently: "1 half feared to tell you. You can never see hint again." "Do you mean that he is buried?" she cried --"put away out of my sight for- ever?"' He took her hands tenderly in his own, and spoke again, gently: "f=lush -- it was obliged to be." "And this," she cried, wildly, "is all that is left to mo of my husband—my love --my one only beloved." 'Mat, and the memory of his love," replied Luigi. "And now let me give you his messy ." Ile gave her loving, tender words, that he said had been uttered by the dying masa, It would be better, he said, when her grief was over, to try and forget him; and he left his last urgent wishes that the secret of their love and mar- riage should remain a secret still. "To reveal it now," he continued, "would be worse than useless; it would draw down upon you the anger and in- dignation of your friends " 'I do not mind that," she murmured. • "And what is worse," he continued, "it would draw down reproach upon your husband's memory. They would not understand how he loved you. They would insult him even more now ho is dead than they would have done when living. Preserve the memory of his deep HERE'S A MESSAGE TO ALL WOMEN Madnege Letourneau Tells Them toUse Dodd's kidney Pills. Read Why She Chives this Advice and How She Wes Relieved of Her Sufferings. ret. Paul du Teuton, Motitagny Co,, gum, Jan. 11.—(Special)--It is a mos- eage of hope that Madame E. X. Letour- neau, of this place, sends to the suffer- ing woolen of Canada. ".Ester 'inyf last child was born," she stades, "I suffered with Kidney Disease which developed into Rheumatism, Sciat- ica and Backache. I was fearfully ner- vous. My limbs were heavy and I had a dragging 'sensation. across the Loins and paine in the back of my head and through the eyes. .I was a perfect wreck. "Chancing to road that my symptoms wero those of Kidney Disease I began using Dodd'e Kidney Pills and began to improVe almost at once. Six .boxes worked 'a eom)rlete tura," 1laeased 1lidneys are the 'cause of m3t*trenths of the ills that make life a burden to so many women in Canada. Del3tl's Kidney Pills always euro 'disesaed p s, love, and keep his memory from re- proach. You have still something to live for, Madame Monteith I, on my part, have taken an oath of secrecy to poor Rinaldo, and I renew the same to you." ife could not tell whether she heard his words or not; for the white face never changed, and the dark eyes still wore the look of vague horror and dread that had terrified him. "Madame, I was your husband's friend," he resumed, gently; let the be yours also. You look ill and exhausted.. It would be better for you to go home and reet." "You can do me one favor," she re- plied, drearily. "Go now, and leave me alone with my dead. I shall die if I am not left alone. Come and see me again when 1 can speak, and tell me more of him" He thought it best to eomply with her wishes. When he turned round to look once more at her, he saw that she had flung herself on the around and bur- ied her face in her hands, CHAPTER XXI. The dark shades of night had covered the trees and flowers when Inez rose from her long stupor of grief and found her way home. Sne was as one dazed with sorrow; she could neither see nor hear. No tear,, came to relieve the pent- up agony of her tortured heart. He was dead, he who had loved her so; never would those eyes ,so full of love, look down upon hor; never more would the musical voice whisper sweet words in the . evening gloaming. It was all over; she had seen him for the last time. The golden Light that had. brightened her life had changed into the deepest gloom. If she could but have seen him once --if he had but clasped her in his arms, and bidden her farewell! All night she paced drearily up and down her little. room. "If I could but weep," site cried, "this burning pain would leave me!" but no tears came to her relief. When morning dawned, and she did not appear as us- ual, Nita, full of solicitude, went up to her young lady's room, she found her lying white, and cold, and senseless up- on the floor. Some young girls would have died if they had been called upon to suffer that poor child's anguish, In great la - arm Nita, summoned Caterina, and be- tween them she was laid upon her little white bed. They aaw that it had not been slept upon. One bathed her fore- head with frau- ant waters, while the otheS made a sup of strong coffee. They both agreed it would be better to say nothing of their young lady's -illness, lest it should alarm madame. Inez recovered slowly, and in answer to the numerous and rapid questions the two servants put to her, site said her head had ached all night so much that she could not sleep. "I cannot read to madame to -day," she saki to Catering. "Will you tell her that I ant unable to rise?" Then she turned her face from them, and said no more. Madame Monteleone grieved to hear of her grandchild's illness. She gave or- ders that every attention should be paid to her, and deeply regretted that she could not visit her and see that she was properly cared for. It was all the same to poor Inez ITad a dozen solicitous friends surrounded her she would neither have seen nor heard then. She lay throughout the day lost in a stupor of grief, going over and over again the whole of her short love story the bright summer day when she had first seen hien, his passionate love for her,, his tender words, his deep de- votion. Aird now she was never to see him again! Ah, if she could bot close Iter eyes and die! Then, like a sharp sword came the memory of that day when he had spoken to her of death and asked her what she would do without him. She had told him then that she should die with him; and now the time he had foreseen had arrived, yet she was oblig- ed to live on, and bear her sorrows as best she could. She was alone in her grief, as she had been alone in her hap- piness and her love. For two days she lay there, dreading to rise ,dreading to begin again the dreary, monotonous life that would have no light nor hope. On the third day she rose. In the wardrobe that had belong- ed to her young mother she found a black dress. Caring nothing for the re - merits that would be made, she put it on, and went to madame's room. "1 am better this morning, grandmam ma," she said, "turd am come to read to you." Madame Monteleone gazed at her with something like alarm. What bard taken the color from that beautiful face, the light from her dark eyes, the music from her voice? Could that pale, sad, drooping girl, in the heavy mourning dress, be the bright, radiant child, whom no one led been able to manage or gov- ern. "You have been very, i11, Inez," she said gently; "and.' my dear child, why have you put on that black dress. Do take ib off it makes we quite sad to see it." "Let me wear it," said Inez; "it suits me—and I like it. I never wish to wear anything but blank again." "That's a very strange fanny for a young girl," said madame, inwardly re- solving that, as soon as Inez looked bet- ter and stronger, she would force her; to put away the gloomy robe, It was four days before Inez summon ed courage again to visit the "trysting' tree.'" She longed to go once more to say good -by to a spot where she had been se happy. Only once ntor;e and then she would never see that part of the grounds again. She had ceased to care about the world she has "o passionately iN 2.1. Hou'9 UE You can painlessly remove any. cern, Omer hard, soft or bleeding, 11applyit;i, Putnamn's Corn Extractor. It never bunts, leaves no sear, contains no acids; is harmless leeause composed only of healing gums and banns Tifty years in use. pure guaranteed. Sold by alt erteseists 255. bottles. Refuse subsxitntes, PtUTTNAM'S ',P PAINLESS CORN . EXtRACTO . longed for. If all Seville were to, pass along the high -road, all the gay .nobles and fair ladies, slte would. not as+iah to see then. She was still half child, half vy.oiitan • and, with trembling. steps, she sought the steno of herformer happiness. Even when she came again to the; spot where she had seen Rinaldo for the first and last time, no tears carte?to soften the grief that seemed to be coasuining her young' life. She .went into the, orange grove where she had stood with Luigi Carnello four days,,since; she sat down, and looked listlessly around her, Sud- denly her eyes fell upon a small discol- ored paper, that lay half hidden among some dead. leaves upon the ground. Her heart gave one great.leap, What v+as it? Who had placed it there? She raised it and held it unopened for a few minutes in her hand Au instinctive dread of coming sorrow -bed seized her. Slowly unfoldiug it, she• saw;that it was in her husband's writing,and addressed to Luigi Carnello. Never was, statue inorl''wvitite and still than that hapless girl as she read every word. of that fatal; •cowardly let- ter. Every letter seemed te.burn itself into tier brain ae she read;' Then she sat as one in a hideous dream, "I will wait here until he Comes," she. said. "I will confront hi.m with it, and know the truth . las(;..',- 'Lucre was aro treatmor on that proud, pale face. She sat as erect and as haughty a's a queen:awaiting the ap- proach of the man who had helped to be- tray her. He eare at last, and with a courteous bow and kindly. words, Luigi attempted to take her`hand. She with- drew it proudly, and a look of fear, came into his face as he observed her haughty gesture. "Luigi Carnello," she said, "stand there, as a criminal before his judge, and answer me. You say you were my hus- band's friend?" "1 was," he replied. "Did he write to you oeeasioually?" she asked. k "Often—almost every,, day," 'was , the ly. repListen to this letter," she said, "and. tell me if he wrote it." Without a tremor' or .break in her voice, she read coldly and calmly: "My Dear Luigi,—Corhi tto. me , this evening about ten; 1 aa! ,x�iv ?nose seri- ous dilemma. I. benq t Wish I had never seen the belle o, as you call her. I must had to have shackled myself.'=s girl. She. is beautiful en +�1; .out- weigh»'alb:beauti". °,i t. +�tl' cl•uti on me. If I had had lc`rucire sense, I might have secured tiie ie;'eiss, instead of throwing my self'aw tv' up4t a nobody. I was born under an wnlucltyistar; tone and tell me what is to be done. "Your,; ever, "Rinaldo M—.'" "Now tell me," she said -"and I charge you to speak truly--tvae this let- ter written by Count Montalti to you?" "It was," he replied. "Then before he died," she continued, `Ire repented having married um, and re- gretted that lie had not secured the heir- ess of whom he speaks; tell me truly; do not spare me—was it so?" "Yes," he replied, and the' word seem- ed to pain him as he spoke. "Hove basely he must have deceived me!" she said. "See, this letter is dat- ed three weeks back. I saw him twice after then, and each tune he professed greater afeetion for me. Tell rue, Luigi Carnello, you who knew his secrets, did he ever love me, or was it all a delu- sion?" "He loved you at first," he said;. "and then—then 1 think he grew tired of you, and regretted that ho e had not married for money, as he lied always -intended to do." "If he had Iived," she said, "what would he have done vvitlt me?" "Deserted you, most .probably." "That is enough, sir," she interrupted; "say no more. I understand now that I have been a credulous dupe. Listen to pre: even as I tear this infamous let- ter into shreds, so do I tear the memory of Rinaldo from my heart. He deceived me; no one ever deceives a Monteleone twice. If he were living I. would curse him; as he is dead I give kite my undy- ing contempt; and as for you, sir, false friend, false man, never dare to venture into my presence again; never dare to speak of me or to relnember that I live." She waved him imperiously from her presence. "What a scenel" he .said slowly to himself when he was quite away, and far upon the road. "She is a perfect `tragedy queen,' If I had been Mon- talti, I would not have lost her for all the wealth of Venice. She trade me feel like a whipped cur, Welly,; "everything has an ending in this world, and T have seem the lest of leez Countess Montalti *nee 'Mon teleone," There, where she had learned to love, where she had listened to false words, Where she had found brief delusive hap- piness, Inez knelt and shed bitter tears at last. She wept over her young love and faille betrayed; she went for the sad fate that seniect to have unasked her as its own, "A lonely, neglected chilli," site said; "and. now a lonely, deceived wile. lie never cared for ate; he had a passing fancy •for what he called my beautiful face. .Ah, would that its beauty had been marred and blighted; then for its sake 1 had never been betrayed—my poor beauty, of which I was so proud!" All that higb, proudspirit had been aroused; She, the last of the Montele- ones, of high lineage and stainless race, had been duped and laughed. at! The man who declared he could not live without her had grown tired of her in a fete- weeks, and wished he had never seen her. "If he were living," she "I would curse hitn--dead, memory and his name!" • Then, for the first time, she saw the extent of her folly and her sin. What right had she, a young girl, trusted by her guardian, to meet the stranger as she bad done? What inconceivable folly and madness possessed her that she could yield to his wish for a private marriage! llot crimson flashes dyed her face with shame as she saw the plain truth itt its hideous fonm before her. She had disgraced her itruud race; she had 'tutted foolishly and sinfully. He might well despise and tire of her. There want no musical voice near her now to gloss over the truth with sweet honey- ed words. Iler conscience, for the first time, seemed awakened to the wrong she had done. "I am glad he is dead!" she cried; "he was wiser and older than I. He knew better, and he deceived rue. t ant glad 'he is dead, for there is no one now to remind me of any- folly. No one will ever know my shameful secret, and 1-1 will begin life again." "Yon have soon tired of your fancy. for black, Inez," said Madame Montele- one, with a smile, as the young girl en- tered her room the morning after the finding of the letter, "One tires of all reneges :u time," she replied, drearily. She bore her pain bravely, but she smarted under the knowledge that she had given her love to ono who was un- worthy of it. "A child would not have been deceiv- ed so easily as 1 was," she thought, and she despised herself when She remember- ed the powerful influence which a few flattering words had had over her. "I was young, and so lonely;" she would say, as though pleading to her own heart for pardon and excuse, and in those words lay the extenuation of her lolly. Had she been leas lonely, had she seen more of her fellow -creatures, had she been allowed some slight tv'musements ,suitable to her age, she would never have cared to meet Rinaldo. Had she met him out in the world, Where she could have compared him with other sten, site would never have loved the false Italian. CHAPTER xXII, It was fortunate fur Inez that events succeeded each other with such rapid- ity that she bad no time for brooding over her sorrow. The love that she .had felt for her husband was changed to a loathing, and gradually gave place to a bitter hatred. lh'r youth, her happiness, her life itself, seemed dead. the did not know how she dregged on her dreary existence from day to (ley. But a change was coming, heralded by death. One miming .Madame Monteleone was seized with a sudden and dangerous ill- ness. The doctor was eonstluntly at- tended her was sent for, and he pro- nounced her to be in great and immedi- ate danger, and advised her attendants to send for a celebrated physician who resided at Seville. Doctors and medicine were all in vain. Madame _Monteleone had come to the close of her long, sorrowful life. When site heard that she was indeed dying, she sent for her grandchild, and spoke to her as she had never done before. She told her haw she had lied but for one object—the restoration of her fancily; how she had trained her fair young daughter Bianca for that end, and how all her hopes had been wrecked by her child's marriage with the English lord. "Then, Inez,"'cont.inued the dying wo- man, "my hopes were centred in you. Perhaps, child, I have wronged you and sacrificed you to my own ambitious views. I begged you from your father with such words of entreaty that he could not refuse my prayer, and I have brought yon up as 1 diel your mother be- fore yon, but with this difference: from her earliest infancy J. spoke to her of my hopes and plants. I have never men- tioned them to you. But for my acci- dent last year, 1 should this year have taken yon to Madrid. I ata dying naw, and the purpose of my life is unfulfilled --will be forever unfulfilled --for you you are the ht.st of the Monteleones." She then told the astonished girl that her father was a wealthy English noble- man, who lived in a home of stately magnificence; that he had married again second wife, too, was dead. "And I shall have to leave Spain," cried Inez, "and go a stranger to my own home!" "A stranger," replied Maclaine Monte- leone; "but yet remember you are the eldest child of Lord Lynne, and if my instinct tells me truly you will be the best beloved. daughter. He loved your mother as those calm, cold English sel- dom love. I have sent to him to -day to say that I ante dying, and, that you roust return to him." Inez was literally speechless with sur- prise to think that she, the deserted, lonely ehild, was the eldest danghter of ti " rich English lord, who lived in such magnificence in England. After all, it was no penniless girl whom Count Rin- aldo had married; and in the fleet bit - cried again, 1'loathe his WATER GAUGE BURST.. C. P. R. Fireman Badly Scalded. C. P. It. fireman, Geo. II. Duffus, who lives' in Robertson street, Port William, while on. hie engine near Westford, hap- pened a nasty accident. The water gauge of the locomotive burst and scalded the whole of the left side of leis face and head terribly, "It so happened," said Duffels to our. representative, "that I had a box of Zam-buk is my pocket, which I used for a sore on my lip, and when I had re- covered from the first shock of the acci- dent, I produced the balm and had it applied freely to the scalded parts. At the time I applied it I was suffering acute agony, but within a wonderful short time Zam-buk gave me ease. I wits able to continue my journey, and upon reaching home I obtained more Zam- buk and continued the treatment. It acted wondorfullye well, and in a few days had the wound nicely healing. I don't know anything so fine as a healer of burns, scalds, cuts and ,similar in- juries which workers are so liable to; and in my opinion a box of Zam-buk should be kept handy in every worker's home." There is something different and superior about Zam-13uk. Time and again workers in all branches of trade have proved its vast superiority over the advertised ointments and salvo, of the day. No doubt the fact that Zam-Buk is made entirely from herbal es- sences and extracts, while ordinary oint- ments contain more or less animal fats and oilsi goes a long way to explain Zam-Buk's superiority. However this may be, the fact remains that in four continents to which It has been introduced within ten years it has become the leading household balm! For burns, cuts, scalds, bruises, eczema, vlles. ulcers, ring -worm, itch, salt -rheum, bad leg. festering sores, chapped places, cold - sores, frost bites, and all skin injuries and diiieases. Zam-Buk is beyond doubt a most marvellous cure. Druggists and stores sell at 50 cents a box and the Zam-Buk Co., Toronto, will mall a box. post free upon receipt of price, to any of our readers who may have difficulty in obtaining a supply of the genuine Zam-Buk from their local stores. terness of her heart site wished that he could know that the girl of whom he had tired so soon -would have been of as much value to him as the heiress who had smiled upon hien. If he had been living, how she would would have spurned him and wt -ung his heart by her contempt; dead she could but despise hint the more from the knowledge of what she was. (To be continued.) Prayer Meeting Night. (Rochester Times.) The appeal of the Ministerial Associa- tion to the Mayor, the Chamber of Com- merce, the Maennerchor and other soci- eties to keep Wednesday evening, "pray- er meeting night," an open date in the booking of secular entertainments will on aseount of its eminent source be 'en- titled to respectful consideration, Iiut in a sense is it not a confession of .weak- neess by the chrch? If the church re- tained npon public reverence the hold to which it is entitled, would it have to petition against competition? Would it not easily command the situation? DISEASE COMES 11ROUGi THE BLOOD To Cure Commen Ailments the Blood Must he Evade Rich and Red. Nearly all the diseases that afflict mankind are caused by bad blood, weak watery blood poisoned by impurities. Bad blood is the cause of headaches and backaches, lumbago and rheumatism, debility and indigestion, neuralgia and other nerve troubles, and the disfiguring skin diseases like eczema and salt rheum that show how impure the blood actual- ly is. It is no use trying a different medicine for each disease because they all spring from one cause—bad blood: To cure any of these diseases you must get right down to the root of the trou- ble in the blood. That is just what Dr. Williams' Pink Pills do, They make new, rich blood. That is why they cure these diseases when common medicines fail. Mr. Henry Baker, Chipman, N. B., says: "About a year ago I was so weak and miserable that I thought I would not live to see spring again. I could neither work, eat nor sleep. My blood was in a terrible condition. My entire body broke out with, pimples and small boils that would itch and pain and caus- ed me great trouble. I went to, the doc- tor and 'tried several medieines, but to no effect. I was almost in despair when one clay a friend asked me why 1 did not try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills. decided to try them, and took altogether eight boxes. By the time I had finished them I was like a different mien. They not only purified and enriched my blood, but built up my whole system, and I have not bad a pimple on my flesh nor a. sick day since.." To enrich the blood you must get the genuine Pills with the full name "Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People" on the wrapper around the box. Sold by all medicine dealers or by mail at 5Dc a box or six boxes for $2.50 from. the Dr. Wiliams' Medieino Co., Brockville, Ont. Right at Hand. 5'eacher (of night school) --Here we have the familiar quotation, "wher rrorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wis'e." Civ an example in which ignorance they be said to be bliss. Shaggy Haired Pupil—Well, the wild animals in Airiest, ought to he in bliss. They don't know what's going. to happen to them in about three months. e. Only one "BRONIO QSJININE" that is LAXA IVBI BitOMO QUININE. Leek for the eintnature of 'PJ, W. GROVE. teed the World over to Cure a cold iu One' Dae-. 3Ke,