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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1909-06-11, Page 3,UREu • 1YyY a n, either hard, ao t or bleeling,el�ih applying lutnam's Corn Extractor: it never utas, leaves no sear, ooi tainsnoasidefieharnilcesbeeauseeomposee 'on�y of eealing;;ums and 'alba, elft years in use, Cure guaraateed.;, Sold by sil 4tuggiste 2se. betties. Refuse sebstitutes, PU`-°i"NleiMlip'S 'PAINLESS CORN EXTRACTOR It is needless to say that the majority •of the men there were delighted at the xehuff to one who had been treated as a lion ever since his re-entry into society. Lady Violet, however, was in dismay. She had anticipated a triumph for Ji rna•, but not one of this sort, and she was ready to sink through the ground. Lora Aubrey was taken aback more •,eompletely than ever before in his life. He had looked upon Erna as in some sort a piece of property in which he had a. nearly excipsive right. He was deeply interested le her in a benevolent soot of way, and within the pest few minutes had been planning for her future • on a scale of generous, not to say extrava- gant, magnificence. And now the hoiden of Aubrey, whom lie heal relentlessly consigned to a fin- ishing school after rehearsing her mis- deeds to ber aunt, had met him as a worms of the world who has a score to pay, and has the coin Nvherewith to pay it, He bit his lip and hardly knew how to act. He could easily have retorted in a way to mortify Erna; but, aside from the fact- that he was too much of a gentleman to do so, there was a feeling that he would be unable to say any- thing that she could not answer wit ha wit as biting as his own. He turned with a Faye smile to poor Violet, and oaid, as he bowed to her: "We have paid our respects to the +queen of beauty; shall we go look at the lawn tennis now?" "If you please," murmured Lady Vio- let, casting a reproachful glance at Er- . na. "Our young lady can be very chilling when she chooses," he said, when they were out of hearing of the party about E� Vasn't it dreadful!" exclaimed 'Vio- let. io- let. "Oh, how you must have offended her! I never saw her like that before." "Yes," he replied, "I must have given her great Offense. Yours must be a eplendfd school for finishing girls. Erna was a girl ,when I last saw her, and a partieularly lively one. She seems to be a woman now.' The earl was altogether too wise to attempt to force himself on Erna is the presence of others; but be was deter- mined to see her alone, and insist u?9u an explanation; and he trusted to Lor - tune to give hiin the .opportunity. A few hours earlier he would have smiled at the notion of watching for an oppor- tunity to talk with Erna; bat now he was too earnest to smile, or even wonder at, himself. He had cared for her past, and he had, her future in his charge, and he felt that lie :could not be treated in such a way at the whim. at a silly girl. He would not have believed that it would hurt him so much; but it had hurt him, be- cause, .as he believed, there was some- thing of ingratitude in what she had' done. He was quite sure that he felt her action very little as a man, but very much as a guardian. It was as a joint guardian that he followed her that evening, just as dusk was falling. She had evidently gone to the drawing -room, whieh was deserted, tri soek a little respite from her social triumphs. It was still light enough to distinguish faces easily, and she recognized pian at, once, when she looked up, warned of bis approach by his footsteps. He saw her face change, and grow defiant, as if in anticipation of what was to follow. "I came after you+," he said, something of the sternness of a guardian in his tone, "in order that there might be no unpleasant repetition of the scene of this afternoon." "But," she said, coldly, "there will be a repetition of it. I have no desire to converse with you, and do not recognize your right to assume such a tone to- ward me. I will not pretend," she said, with more warmth, "not to understand why you assume such a tone. It is be- cause you have, or believe that you have, a money claim on me. I distinetly repudiate it, "When I was a child I was the recipi- ent of your bounty, and was grateful. Some day I shall discharge the obliga- tion incurred then. At this moment I am being kept at school at your ex- pense, but I owe you no gratitude for it. 1 would not have accepted another favor from you 'had it been possible to avoid it. I declared to my aunt that I would not. She said I must obey her, being a minor. ` I obeyed her, end have gone to the school. I shall remain there, per- force, until I ani of age. Then, cost what it may, involve what it may, I shall refuse everything that comes from you, directly or indirectly." She had grown warmer and warmer with each word, until her speech became a sort of fiery torrent which there was no .staying. The earl was compelled to abandon the high ground lie had con- templated standing on in face of such vehement refusal to admit hint to the emerue dilaepi;uoo os peg at uongcsod "At least,' he said, without any sus- picion of superiority iu his tone, and altogether iu the manner of a man to a woman his equal, "you will not refuse to tell me why you take this violent posi- tion." "An explanation should not be neces- sary," she replied, haughtily. "Have you forgotten that at Aubrey you be- trayed my easily wou confidence by tell- ing my aunt of the things I had done in the childish mischief? Can you not com- prehend that I was a woman almost, and that you insulted me in acting es you did? What right had you to" play the part of censor of my actions? What episode in your own life entitled you to the privilege? Was it that which drove you from London? or that. which took place on the continent?" She could not have told why she grew more and more angry as she talked to the earl; but it was a fact that although she would never have dreamed of say- ing such. bitter things to him, they now leaped to her tongue and were spoken almost before she was aware. The. next moment she could have bitten her tongue out. He staggered as if struck a blew; but recovered himself, and asked, in a low tone, but steadily: "What will you do? I renounce any pretensions I may have had to govern - nig your actions, since you. are so certain of my unworthiness, but I am in a luau ner responsible for your future. Be- cause you are a Cecil, and for no reason a't all personal to yourself, I responled to the request of your aunt to defray the expenses of your education. I ask no gratitude for that. 11 was a thing I would do for any other Cecil. But I did it for you, and by Going it made myself responsible for your future. Will you not permit use, as a Cecil, to provide suitably for you?" "I will not. I would rather die than voluntarily accept a penny for you." "Surely your hatred of ane is out of pro -portion to any offense," he said, quietly. "I do not pretend to explain my senti- ments or tuitions," she vehemently re- plied. "I refu::e finally 'to accept the Meet thing from you." "But what will you do?" he demanded. "What are you fitted to do that you may do? What must your life be 'if yon refuse? I do not ask yeti to con- sider anybody but yourself; but hag of you not to punish. ane by placing your- self in a situation of misery. And what else can be possible?" "I absolve you from all 9oneern to my future," she said, proudly. "I shall know how to net as wortbily as other Cecils have acted. Your solicitude is un- called-for. 1 have reason to believe that you are not a good judge of motives and actions in others." "You are very hitter," ho said. "Do you really know the story of my life?" "I do not, and do not wish to know it," she ;uickly replied. "Perhaps when I ani older, or when I have a husband to tell me, if he think best, I may know it." all the bitterness under which lie writh- ed was but the manifestation is some way of a soul in agony? Be writhed .under her stingbng, bit- ter words, but he oirugh a glimpse of his own soul, chained down by bus own bitterness, and cynicism, and he did not hate her as he might have done. He did. not hate her, but he did not allow why he did not. at will not; disturb you longer," he said. "I have shade a grievous mistake. I came to ehide a girl; I go away ask• ing pardon of a woman." Ile bowed and left her .alone. Twice and three times she essayed tq.sty some- thing to him, but the words caught in her throat, and were never said., He passed out of sight in.tlie gathering twi- light, amd she sank bete a ohslir sobbing bitterly: "011, why did I? why did I? I -know he is good and true, and I stung him like a serpent. If he only`.knew what was in my heart! But he•never shall know." * * * *.. .„ "My dear Erna! where bare you been I've been looking everywhere for you. "Why, what do you think? and I want you to look beautiful, more beau- tiful, most beautiful." "Why?",demanded Erne, listlessly. whot do you think? and I never knew anything about it! Mamma invited the Moreharus here; Gertrude is coming, and is going :to sing." "Well; she sings well; I am glad of it." "She does sing well, but not as well as you recite." sha'n't recite," said Erna, calmly. "Erna, oh, Erna! You can't mean it!" cried Violet, in dismay. She bad so counted On Erna carrying off the hon- ors at the castle, and now slie was act- ing like a spoiled child. "Ula you must." "I won't." If she would not, she would not, and no one knew better than Violet that it was so. She was ready to ery with disappointment. "I have said so much about your re- citing!" she murmured. "From the way you treated Trim I don't suppose you care, but Lord. Aubrey expects to hear you., "A reason why I should not recite," said Erna, coldly. "I didn't know you disliked him," said Violet. "From the way you stood up for him the other day I was sure you mint admire hire. I don't believe a word. of the dreadful stories .about him, what- ever they are. Besides, Gertrude will sing for him. I -mean she will sing to-nigat,. and he will hear her. lie told me he ad- mired her voice, and as he is the lion of the evening, she will hare a' treuuen►'�it>±t triumph:';. a: ,... "Let her have, Lima, quite en-. moved. "I wouldn't rare," ,pleaded Violet, "only he said Ire was so fond of music— partieularly vocal music; and I carat bear to think bow Gertrude will go Mick to school and tell how she trium- phed." "PO yea care so vary muciir untuwuu- ed Erna, suddenly. "Indeed I do," cried Violet, eagerl "'Chen I'll tell you what I will do/A` Plied Erna. "I will recite on one aortae tion—that you persuade your mother to ask me to sing after Gertrude' "But, Brnaa. --" "Well, I won't recite then." "You can sing, then?" asked 'Violot, timidly. It was like doubting the infp,ll ible to ask the question, but she waeasee afraid Erma might make a failure. "I want to try," answered Erna, short. ly. "Will you ask your mother or not "Of course I will. But if she tasks me if you can sing, what shall I say? I ne- ver have said a word about your sing- tuft." "Tell her I can sing, of course. If T fail, let nae bear the brunt of it." Erna could be very imperious, and her. subjects were well aware of the fact. It was useless to argue the matter, and Violet fell back trustingly on the firm assurance that, inasmuch as Erna had never failed in an undertaking, she nev- er would; and off she went to confer with the duchess, while Erna, - with bright eyes and glowing cheeks, went to her room to dress. The conversation be- tween the duchess and Violet was in this wise: lefamma, Erna will recite, and, what is more, I have„ coaxed her to sing." "To sing! does she sing, too? You know Lady Gertrude is going to sing." "You can let Erna sing after Ger- trude.' UV Eft I I3AU) Lit Y Lel' A DISTR SS SIGNAL The Trouble Can Only be Cured by Enriching the Blood Supply. When your nervous :system us. `exf- bausted! the trouble makes itself ori' dent la many -ways. You feel always fatigued and unfit fir work. Pewee. headaches distract you;,yxiur bark is weak; You sleep badly;.your appetite is uncertain; you are nervous and irri- table, and after any exercise you trembly and perspire excessively, If the trouble is not checked your cane goes from bas! to worse until you feel that your Con- dition, is hopeless and that insanity is threatened. Your nerves are calling for help. They are starved because they demand fronnt the' blood more nourishment than it can •supply. New rich blood is the secret of nerve strength and Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People cure nervous. disorders because they feed the weak, exhausted nerves, with rich, red blood. The case of Mrs. Emma Hall, of Hamil- ton,. Ont., furnishes proof that Dr.. Williams' Pink Pills will cure even the most stubborn eases of nerve exhaus- tion, Mrs. Hall was left a widow and was forced to work ina mill to main- tain herself and her two little children. She bravely faced the battle of life, though she had never had to conform, to such conditions before. Not:wfth- standing the splendid spirit she dis- played the work played havoc with a delicate constitution, and some years ago Mrs. Hall noticed signs in herself of a nervous collapse. She consulted a. doctor, who gave her medicine and told her she "would be all right in a few days." But relief did not come, and it was finally a daily occurrence for her to faint at her work. These fainting, spells quickly developed into pronounced hysteria and chronic irritability, and Mrs. Hall says that death would have been a relief. She consulted several doc- tors, but got no help, and she felt that she was almost bordering on insanity. In this condition she was advised to try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills. Grasping, at even the possibility of help she decided to do so. After biking, three boxes she actually found some improvement, and from that time on this improvement was steady and increasing daily until after a few months she felt the cure was complete. She says: "Dr. Williams' Pink Pills have done what doctors failed to do and what I myself thought was im- possible. They have freed me from the terrible trouble I suffered, and my old joy in life 'has been renewed." When Mrs. Hall began taking Dr. Williams' Pink Pills she weighed only one hundred pounds, while under her renewed health her weight has increased to one hundred and thirty pounds. Dr. Williams' fink Pills can be bad from `any dealer in medicine or will be sent by mail at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50 by The Dr. Williams' Medicine Co., Brockville, 0nt. "She has a wonderfully sweet -voice. Everybody is speaking of it. I didn't know she could sing. Of course, if she sings, I shall be pleased to have her. Un- less—I wonder if Lord Aubrey is as much struck with her as the other gen- tlemen are!" Artful. little Violet understood the meaning of that question. If Lord Au- brey admired Erna too much, then Erna was to have no chance of fascinating hien still further by her singing. "I don't believe he is, mamma, and I know that she detests him. I heard him say how much he admired Gertrude. I am glad, for his sake, that you invited her." "You are a silly girl," said the duch- ess, with sudden asperity. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" "Why, mamma, I didn't know it until this afternoon, and you did not consult me about whieh of my schoolmates to invite, excepting Erna. Anyhow, I don't see what difference it makes." "Well, I do, then. By all means, have Erna sing. I hope she sings well enough to follow Gertrude," said the duchess, anxiously. "Erne does everything better than anybody else. For nay part, I don't be- lieve she would consent to sing after Gertrude if she were not sure of what site could do. Though, of course, Ger- trude has an exceptional voice. Lord Aubrey noticed that. He was speaking about it this afternoon." "I wonder," said the: duchess, suddenly, "if Erns, has a suitable dress for the evening." CHAPTER XVIL "You are cruel," Aubrey said, stung almost to auger at her persistent re- currence to the natter of the cloud that hung about his reputation. "You are not forced to hear my words," +"rani. retorted. "I ask nothing of you but to be left in peace.' "Is it your intention," he asked, changing the subject. suddenly, "to put yourself in the matrimonial market? Is that your notion of the way to rid yottr- self of my assistance?" "How readily your thought run on the basest designs!" she repiled. "In fact, I had not thought of such a plan, but it may be asuggestion worthy of a Cecil's attention. i ant told that I ani beautiful. Thank you!" "You distort whatever I say. Let it be so. I will leave you. Are we to be enemies because we cannot be friends?" "It is a spatter of indifference to me what we are, so that it is understood that nothing will eause me to alter my determination as to accepting .assistance from you. I would starve with joy ra- ther than be under obligation to you for mouthful of food." "I accept 'the conditions," he said, in a low tone. "1 will make no attempt, di- teetly or indirectly, to make you the recipient of my bounty, and, in return, or in conseq'ueuce, if that suit you bet- ter, we shall be friends." "We need not be enemies," she answer- ed, uncompromisingly, "but I do not see either the necessity or the advantage of being friends. There was a time when wq: might have been friends, but you tossed away the goodwill I voluntarily offered you, as if it had been a child's toy, for which you, in your superior manhood, had no use." It would be hard to .convey the effect of the words uttered by Erna. Spoken by an ordinary voice, they would still have carried a sting, but uttered in a voice whose every exquisite modulation Is d a meaning, it seemed to her listener as if she were piercing his aeutest sen- sibilities with a. myriad poniards. Ile had sought her much in the min- tier of one seeking a wayward child. and he had listened to her with a re. atraken;ins of his sor,l. ile could nnthave put the idea in words, but in his baler eGilseiolrsnese there was a feelinc that Ft4d Products Never Vary in Quality or Taste because the utmost care is taken by Lib- by's Chefs to select only the choicest mater- ials, and put these up in the same careful manner every time. You are thus assured of uniform goodness, and; this is the reason that the use of Libby's gives such general satisfaction to every housewife. Try these Libby Feeds: Dried a of d : aaxffan Tamale Hann Leaf C'°hi' Can Game Wen= Sausage il'w1'sts'a.P'ale, '' For luncheon, spreads or every ' day ?Heals, they are just the thing. Keep a sup- ply in the house. You . never can tell when they will come' inhan- dy, Ask for althea •and be sere you get dritfr�s°a. Libby, McNeill Libby "She hae. nothing ~very ,time," answered. Violet; 'T'ut niobody. ever .notices wluat site wears." "She must have one of your gowns, Violet. Let her have her choice." "I will, mamma, but 1 won't promise she will wear it. She is awfully inde- pendent, and she may not like the sug- gestion, even." "Well, do the best you can. She is your friend, and I wish her to appear to the best advantage. Your father tells me that the Marquis of Melrose has been asking very particularly about her. 1t would be a great thing for a poor girl to win hint for a husband." "Oh, mammal that old wretch!" "A marquis with forty thousand a year, and able to settle ten thousand on his bride! Don't be romantic, my dear. It isn't every girl has such a chance." "Ugh!" murmured Violet, as she hast- ened to Erna's room, "site would not take hint if he had twice as much. I'll tell her, and have a good laugh over the old monkey." violet's maid was arranging Erna's hair when the former entered the room. "Oh, I am so glad!" she cried, enthusi- astically, "that is the most becoming way to arrange your hair. Did you• bring your pink silk? I ani sure you did not, and it is the only gown to wear with your hair like that" Violet was certain the pink silk had not been brought, for it was growing shabby. But she was very artful in lier own harmless little way. "No, I didn't bring the pink silk," re- plied Erna. "That won!d have done very well at the court of King Tatters, but not here." '"Ob, I am so sorry!" cried Violet, and then said, in her most wheedling tone: "I do wish you would wear a pink- silk I have. 1t is loose for me, and will just fit you, Z am sure. Don't you believe it would, Jeannie?" "It would be exactly the gown for niadennoisellt'," said the maid, critically. "Will you het rue get it, Erna, dear?r' Erna stared rather fixedly at her for a moment, and 'Violet. expected some ter.. Able response. ' Yes, if it fits I'll wear it." "As well to wear a gown of Violet's as one bought with his money," thought Erna. The pink gown chanced to be •one that was a little too Mtge for Violet, and fit- ted Erna to perfection, showing her rounded, perfect figure in all its sym- metrical outline. Iler neck and arms were more exposed than she had ever had thein before, but a gl nee told her that she need not be ashamed of them. Indeed, Violet and Jeanne wcint into ecs- tasies over thein, Having succeeded with the gown, Vio- let would have !rad Erna borrow some orf ber jewels but Erna rehiscd in a tone that was not to be gsins•tid, and after- ward 't'ielet was rejeired for when Erna was ready to go down she looked as if another tone would have spelled a per - feet picture, • eza nigh's," thought Violet. And when she was ready she whispered to Jeanne; "Go learn if Lady Gertrude has gone down yet" • "Are you ready? Shall we go down?" inquired Erna, composedly. "Wait until Jeanne comes back. Aren't you a bit afraid?" she demanded, un- able to comprehend Erna's composure. "Afraid? No. Why should I be?" "She las gone dowel," the astute Jeanne conveyed to her mistress by a sign. "Now I ant ready," said the little plot. ter, and together they went down the Woad staircase to the great drawing - room, where the guests were assembled, waiting for dinner to be announed. The result fulfilled Violet's wildest expectations. First a turning of a few heads followed their entrance, and then a universal murmur of astonishment at the sight of that fresh young . beauty at once so radiant and dazzling, and seemingly so unconscious. And, indeed, Erna had no just idea of her marvelous beauty, and bore herself with obarm- ing naturalness. "My dear," whispered Lady Rowley to her husband, "decidedly, I must take that girl under my protection. She will be a success. "Erna," whispered Violet, "just mat an eye at the Marquis of Melrose! How would you like to be the marchioness? Mamma says you niay if you wish." (To be continued.) ®vol+ A stitch in time saves nine, and every house fly killed early saves a thousand at least later on. Wil- son's Fly Pads will kill many times more flies than any other article. 400 TIIE WASTE OF MILITARISM ' (Canadi^.n, Trade Review.) The end wilt come when the property: holding classes and the working classes see that it is to their interest to unite and oppose furtlier financial burdens in this direction. Close the purse, and war preparations will cease. No longer will defiant banners, buttresed by "patriot- ism," be seen on the outward walls, challenging to battle, but the arts of peace will replace the arts of war. Sol- diers and sailors will, stop being mere wealth consumers, and will become wealth producers, and then both labor and capital will be benefited by what is now being wasted. Then "the brother- hood of man" will not be the idle dream it is to -day. "And they shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards end eat the fruit there- of; they shall not build and another in- habit; they shall not plant and another "Gertrude won't have a; chance to- eat."