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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1909-10-15, Page 71 thought it time to break my prom- ise and go to the River House. I went one •beautiful August day, when the heat seemed to lie like a golden haze over the lend, and the flowers drooped in sheer weariness, and the sky was so blue that one's eyes ached in looking at it. As I drew near I heard the rushing of the river and the low wash of the wavelets on the green bank, and they gladdened the heart within me. Once more I stood under the shadow of the grand old porch, and the world seemed far away. In answer to my ring, the gray-haired butler appeared. I told him it was Jane Lewis that I.wanted to see. He looked surprised, bowed solemnly, land ushered nie into the library. There I waited for some time. Certainly rumor had not exaggerated the wonderful mag- nificence of the house. The carpets, hangings, pictures, statues, all amazed me. I detected a peculiar perfume, faint, sweet and refreshing; but the silence—the deep, brooding stillness which nothing broke except the rushing of the river, and the chirping of the birds—was strange, deep, wonderful. If any doors opened or closed, I never heard them; if servants moved, they must have been shod in velvet. Presently Jane Lewis came in. She looked pale and worn, yet seemed plea- sant to me. "I have broken my promise, Jane." I said. "The truth is that I feel sure Miss Vane is very ill, and I want to help her." "My mistress has been very ill," was the grave reply. She is recovering slowly now; but, as I told you before, Mrs. Neville, you cannot help her." "At least, let me try," I said, per- suasively. "It is quite useless. You do not nn- dcretand. You are very kind; but, if I were to kneel for an hour begging of Hiss Vane to soe you, you should not. She would simply be very angry with me." "Then let me help her, unknown to her. in sonic fashion or other." "You cannot. Yon do not. understand, Mrs. Neville. You are very good and kind. but help is out of the question." I laid my hand on the woman's ann. "Jane Lewis" I said, solemnly, "I do • not know whether your mistress is old or young, but I do 'know that it is wrong of her to shut herself out of the pale of all human sympathy and kind- ness." "So do I," was the nathetic rejoinder; "but as a servant, it is no my place either to criticise or disobey my mis- tress" "You are right; but has it never oc- curred to you that you share the wrong in aiding and abetting her " 'It niay be so, Mrs, Neville. I cannot say. I only know that while I am in Miss Vane's service I must obey her or- ders. Suppose I disobeyed her and did what site has forbidden me to do— brought her into communication with the outer world—do you imagine it would influence her? Slie would change neither her resolutions nor her ways, but slie would dismiss 'n:e, and find some one more obedient in my place. I love my mistress, Mrs. Neville,' she contin- ued, with a flush on her face, "and I have every reason to love her. I nursed he: when she was a baby." She stopped suddenly, as though frightened at what she said. It occurred to me immediately that, if she spoke truly, Miss Vane must still be quite young. I felt for the woman's embar- rassment. "Never mind. 'You are regretting what you said, but you need not do so —there is no cause. I shall not repeat it. I can see that your position is a deli- cate one. I am desirous of helping, not injuring you." "Thank you, Mrs. Neville," she said. `You are, indeed, kind. I ought not to have said that. My mistress .would not like it, I am sure." 'Then we will consider it unsaid, and if I can really be of no use to you, I will not detain you." So I went away, having learned noth- ing of the secret of the house. I had, indeed, gathered one fact. Mies Vane was young; she could not possibly be more than twenty-two or twenty-three if Jane Lewis had been her nurse. Old, and tired of the world, I eonld have understood her desire for retire- ment, her seclusion from mankind but young! What could it all mean? CHAPTER III. I did not go to:the River House again —it seemed perfectly useless—and I heard no more for some time Of Miss Vane. I concluded that she head recover- ed., Surely Mrs. 'Lewis would have toirl me if anything had gone wrong. Just then strange eireumstances hap- pened in the parish of Daintree. Dr. Rawson called on me one morning, his manner more than usually. excited. "My dear Mrs. Neville, suck a strange thing has happened. You remember, perhaps, last Sunday, in my sermon, I said something about my earnest wish to restore the eastern window of the church; at the same time I said that I did not wish to divert from, the poor the money usually given in charity" "I remember it perfectly well, Doctor Rawson." "This morning I received an envelope, directed to myself, containing four bank -notes for fifty pounds each. The envelope contained• only these words: "for the -poor, one hundred pounds; to- ward the eastern window fund, one hun- dred pounds.' Who can my unknown benefactor be, Mrs. Neville?" I could not tell him. ' Another singu- lar circumstance happened. Outside Daintree stood a smell cottage, inhabit- ed by a laundress, a widow, with a fam- ily of little children. How it happened no one seemed to know, but one summer night the cottage was burned to the ground. We proposed a subscription for her; but, before anything was even de- cided upon, the rector came over to Nev- ille's Cross. "This parish of mine must be blessed with some unknown saint," lie said; "look at these, Mrst. Neville." He showed me an envelope contain- ing bank -notes to the amount of three hundred pounds, the sender merely re- questing that they might be used to sup- ply the :oor woman's loss. In the month of September I was at Neville's Cross alone, without any visit- ors. I had just indulged in the purchase of a light boat, for I was passionately fond of rowing on the river. One even- ing the idea came to me to row up the stream and let the boat float back with the tide. I should pass the River House, and perhaps in the gathering gloom I might see something of its strange occu- pant. So, in my little boat, feeling happy and completely at my ease, I watched the sun set and great floods of crimson light die over the waters, and then, when the crimson had become grey, I 4 the boat drift idly down the stream. It was quite dusk „when I reached the River House. I rested opposite the smooths green lawn, and then I saw something at last. A tall, slender, graceful figure moved swiftly and gently between the trees, and then sunk at the foot of one with a tired, wearied look. I could distinguish only the graceful outline and the black, flowing garment, but lying listlessly on the black dress were the whitest and most beautiful hands I had ever seen in my life—white as polished ivory—per- fect as though carved by the most skill- ful sculptor. I sat looking at them in silence. The fano and head of the owner were hidden by a, veil worn its Line Spanish fashion— but the hands were eloquent enough. They never moved; they were neither clasped in thought, nor folded in pa- tience, nor wrung in despair; but they lay listless and motionless, as the hands of a dead woman -might. The shades of night were falling quick- ly; it was time to go.• The faint sound of the sculls in the water did not reach my neighbor, and I hastened away. It never struck me that in thus watch- ing my mysterious tenant I was doing anything in the least degree unladylike or dishonorable. There could be no doubt but that at last I had seen Miss Vane. She was young and graceful, and had hands of marvellous whiteness and beauty. I knew no more. I think from that evening a spell was laid upon ire. I could never forget her. What was she doing, young and fair, alone in that solitary house? I passed and repassed, but never saw her again. Some weeks afterward I went for a long ramble in Daintree Woods. Thele is to rue no sight in the wide world so beautiful as the woods in autumn, with their variety of foliage, and splendor of autumn eoloring. I took a great liberty and went into the pine woods, saying to myself that even should I meet anyone from the River Huse, it would be very easy to hide. �5.;l�?S,. t7. rf�]i.71r J'1^�t'.' .Gr'{Ya�l:i it�'r.+1a. i, •{» . . i \f*: N I,. d�' r':4. +.'[. Ce .,. iv`c� {( THE Standard Article Ready for use in any quantity. 'Useful for five hundred purposes. A can equals 20 lbs. SAL SODA. the only the But. SOLD EVEHICWHEEB For Making Soap. For SoftepingWatcr. For Removing Paint. 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PUTNAlid'S P-i1ULESS *'R1 EXT CTOR While walking slowly along, very busy gathering a peculiar kind of berry that ripens in September, I saw the same graceful figure, with the long, trailing, black garments, and the white marvel- lous hands: I stood quite still, and' in a few minutes she sat doien in the same attitude as before, at the foot of a tall tree, her head leaning against the huge trunk; the white restless hands lying on her black dress. • T looked at her in silence, I would have given the world for courage to speak to her, but I dared not intrude— indeed, I hurried behind the clump of trees when I saw Lewis advancing to- ward her. I did not want her to see me. After all, my being there Was an acci- dent, and she would have thought I was spying. She came up to Miss Vane, and stood at a respectful distance from her. I hope you will not think me tire- some, ire some, Miss Vane," she said; "but I thought you were 'coming to sit in this wood. You would be quite content to sit here until the sun has set, but I can- not allow it, Miss Vane. You may be angry if you will—remember what Sir John said." From under the veil came a low, sweet musical sound. It was not a laugh— nothing that could possibly be called s• laugh. "I am quite indifferent, Lewis, to all that Sir John may say." "Well, Miss, that is an old subject of dispute between us. Whether it is right to be to utterly indifferent to life is another matter. I must do my duty, algid that is to take care of you." "Yon do take care of me," said the same sweet voice. It was certainly Miss Vane speaking, but all attempts at describing her voice would be vain. It was low and soft, and there was something clear and vibrat- ing,' yet hopeless in it. It produced' ei strange impression on me, making me think of many things sweet and sad. "You sat on the lawn until past mid- night not long ago, Miss Vane that was bad enough; but this wood must be damp. The autumn mists will soon rise from the river and pass over it and then you will take cold and be in danger again." "Lewis," said the young voice, "you pretend to be very fond of me." "I am fond of you, Miss Vane," was the dignified rejoinder—"there is no pre- tenee. I beg of you to leave the woods, at least before the mist risee." "I will. Now leave me in peace." '"Miss Vane," centintt el 'the maid, af- ter a short pause, :,:fee. told me that you wished to be made aolluainted with all the cases of distress that should come to my knowledge." "Certainly I did, Lewis." "I know of one now that of an eld- erly woman, whose living is derived from the produce of a small garden and from the sale of milk. Her cow has died, and she is asking for help toward buying another." "How much does a cow cost, Lewis,?" "I do not know, Miss Vane fifteen pounds, I should imagine." "Fifteen pounds," repeated the sweet voice—`that is not much: Is it possible that one's happiness or misery may de- pend on fifteen pounds?" "Hers does, Miss Vane; it seems a trifle to you—it is everything to her. Shall I do anything toward assisting her?" "Certainly—give her the money." "All of it?" "Yes; but remember, it must be sent to her secretly, quite secretly—I do not wish anyone to kuow what I waste." "It is not waste, Miss Vane— it makes people happy." "Happy !" she repeated, and in the emphasis she laid on the word there was a volume of meaning; it indicated a dreary sadness and hopelessness which impressed mo strongly. "Happiness 1 Is there such a word, Lewis?" "I cannot discuss such matters with you, Miss Vane. I will send the money as you wish, quite privately, to -night or to -morrow." "Yon have only to take case that the woman does not know from whom it comes, I should never cxpeet'thanks or gratitude—rather a curse than other- wise. Who is.always the first to prove treacherous and ungrateful? The one yon have most warmly- befriended. Who s first in the ranks of your bitterest foes? The one you have loved best" "Heaven help you, my dear!" said the patient woman. "That is a bitter view to take of everything. I cannot help saying `my dear.' I wonder if you will ever recognize the merciful goodness of heaven again." .. "I fear not. There is a funeral pall about me—one that grows thicker, and deeper, and darker as tine goes on. Now go away, Lewis. I shall, be at home long before the sun sets." The woman. turned away obediently, and the graceful head drooped against the tree, while once more the white hands fell listlessly on the bled: dress, "I must steal away in silence," I said to myself. I knew now who had sent money to the teeter. What else should I learn of this strange, eccentric Ilnldah Vane? CHAPTER IV. For many long months after my last glimpse of the tenant of the River ]House I haunted the banks of the stream in vain. Iluldah Vane was again lost to sight. Our neighbors had ceased to discuss her. In the spring of the fourth year of her 'residence at the River House I was destined to see more of her. I went cue morning for a row on the river, What a morning it Wase -the air clear, sweet, balmy, filled with the oder of spring flowers, the hedges all blooming with pink and white hawthorn, the bre"s a. tender green! 1 rowed down the stream, past `the River ]louse, to a favorite nook of mine —a bank that wee lftera.11y quavered' with wild ltyaeintlzs. •' T .slit on one of the stones, looking at the, picturesque wet - ens, when I heard a faint sound, as of some one moaning in pain. I listened attentively, although thinking that I must be mistaken, and I' presently heard it again unite plainly. Was it a Wounded. animal,. or hard ermine ehild fallen. over the huge stones?. I stood up and looked. around. e At first 1 could distinguish nothing, but, shading my eyes from the bright sun- shine, 1 soon :discovered, 'close to the. water,; what. in the distance looked .like a heap of black drapery. I hastened 'to - weed it. My heartbeat fast when I saw a white hand clinching a portion of the'. dress. I knew the hand -1 recognized the drapery. It was'Huldah Vane. I stood quite still for a second or two, and `ben hastened to her. The graceful .fig- ura. was bent as though in deadly pain-- her ain—her face was turned from nie, and droop. ed toward the ground. I knelt down by her side and touched her gently=the feeble moan changed into a startled. ere. "ere you hurt? .Are you ill?" 1 .asked, gently. To sty surprise she turned from me: and made no reply. "Teo not turn from me, my dear child," T said—"I may call you `dear 'child,' for I am many years older than you." Still no answer came. "I do not wish to dis- tress you, but' common humanity will not allow me to go away and leave you here." Still there was no word. Such a strange, constrained silence it was that I raised her head, and saw that she had fainted and lay in a deadly swoon. I threw back the black veil that covered her face, and was compelled to ery aloud in wonder at its marvellous loveliness. Great heavens! what did it all mean? This child, so young, so tender, so lovely, living alone, shut out from, her kind, talking as I had once heard her talk of preferring death to life—what did it mean? She looked about twenty, cer- tainly no more; and she was beeutiful as a dream. I took off the bonnet with its long. disfiguring Mack veil, and then I lass] the beautiful hemi, with its wealth of shining dark hair, on the cool grass. Presently I raised it again, and pillowed it on my breast. I kissed the lovely faee in a perfect passion of yearning pity, and then dipped my handkerchief in the flowing water and moistened her brow. It revived her, and soon afterward two dark eyes were looking mournfully into mine, so dark, so sweet, at once so proud. and tender with such deep sadness in their rich depths, that they haunted me with their sweet imperiousness and proud beauty for class afterward. They were looking into nine for some moments before •I quite recovered my- self, I saw by their vague, dreamy ex- pression that Miss Vane was only half conscious "Wee 1 almost dead?" slit asked, in a strange whisper. "Not quite," 1 replied, liariIy knowing what to answer. "Lay me down, tern my face to the river, and let the die," she said; and then fuller • consciousness returned - to her. "Who are you?" she asked. `I am Mrs. Neville, of Neville's Cross, and you are my tenant" She lay quite still for a few minutes, and then site said to herself: "It cannot be helped." "Miss Vane," I interrupted, "we will speak of you—never mind me. Have you hurt yourself?" I saw that all at once she had awoke to a full knowledge of where site was and what had hap- pened. "Yes, I have injured my arm. I was sitting on one of those stones, and did not notice that those above ate were loose. I moved carelessly, and one of thein fell on my a,rm. I managed to creep to the river -side, thinking that the cold water would ease the pain." "Will you let me see it?" I asked. She looked half ti.mirly into my face. "I need not trouble you," she said, shyly. "If you would go tet the River Meese and tell my maid, Jane Lewis, that would be •the greatest kindness you could do for me." "My dear young lady, I am sorry to refuse you, but I cannot do any such thing; I cannot leave you here in this state. Do not he afraid of me; I air Mrs, Neville. You have been my tenant now for three years, and you know how. T have respected your desire for secrecy. Ask yourself, if it is• my wish to intrude en you now. Let me help' you, and then when there is• no more left for the to do, we can be strangers again." Tier face flushed, end she looked wistfully at me. "Yon do not know," site said, 'slowly. "Nor do I want to knew. I want to help your, -nothing more. Let me look et your arm" "So ,you are Mrs, Neville," she said, wonderingly, and with somewhat of the simplicity of a child. "T-ha've tried sometimes to thinly what you were like, Ie thlte the sunshine on your hair, or is it the natural calor?" Though she talked 1°tlii1y. I saw that Upset By Constipation ,Distressing Indigestion, Stomach Coag, Palpitation Constant Jieadaches. When Robbed of Reality and Strengtth1 and Suffering from Lassit- ude, Inertness and General HI Health Dr. Hamilton's Pills Cure., "It is with intense satisfaction that I am able to relate how I was snatched by Dr. Harnilton's ,Pills from my bed Of sickness, writes H. H:: Sargent, s, well-known hardware traveller, residing at Charleston. So many changes of diet brought on. a fit 'of indigestion and liver complaint, but being very busy I, didn't give the matter much ;attention. Headaches, awful dizzy spells, and con- stanttiredness, soon rriade it impossible for Inc to Attend properly to • business - My' appetite faded away. I became thin •and looked yellow and jaundiced. 1 -Med theee different prescriptions which "physicians said would tone up my` liver and regulate my bowels -but I got no relief' at all till I started to use Dr II'iunilton's Pills. After taking them for a few days I was surprised at the ener- gy and force I obtained;• the old feeling. of tiredness and lack of desire to work disappeared, an instead came vigor, eenrgy, ambition, good color and sound. digestion. I take Dr. Hamilton's Pills three times a week and ever since have enjoyed the best of health.." What's the use of feeling so languid, so stupid -and doll, when Dr. Hanmilton`s Pills .will give you such robust, joyous health. For all disorders of the stom- ach. kidneys, liver and bowels, no medi- eine,compares with Dr. Hamilton's Pills. 25c. per box. or five boxes for $1.00, at al dealers or the Catarrhozone Com-' pony, Kingston, Ont. ]ler lip was white, and quivering with pain. "It is the natural' color," I re- plied. "Yet you wear a widow's cap," she continued. "You have a buried lover "Yes, I have a buried_ love; but when. I think of the dark grave, I think also of the blue sky smiling over it." "How can people think death the greatest pain?" she said, musingly. "1 fancy no one could be quite lonely who had a grave to weep over." "These are morbid fancies for one so. young as you are. Now, Miss Vane, let me see your arm" "ITow did you learn my name?" she asked. "Yon forget that you are my tenant. How ninny documents have I seen sign- ed by IIuldah Vane? Now for your arm?" "I cannot more it," she said, and her lips grew so white that I feared she was going to faint again. 7 went to the other side—she was ly- ing on her arm—and tried to raise her gently. I found that the limb was not only terribly bruised, but that it was also broken. (To be continued.] GOOD BLOOD AND CORD HEALTH Is the Result Qbtained When Dr.. Williams' Pink PiPs Are Used To have good health you must. have good blood. It is only when the blood is bad that the health is poor. The blood is the life-giving fluid of the body —it is therefore an absolute necessity that it should be kept free from all im- purities and poisons. To do this noth- ing can equal Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People. These Pills make new, rich blood with every dose; they drive out every impurity—every poison—and thus give good health. Concerning thein, Miss Bernadette Lapointe, of St.. Jerome, Que., says: "For several years my health was very bad—my system was completely run down. I had indi- gestion almost continually; my heart was weak; I had headaches and back- aches, and was sore all over. My blood was very poor, and rnore than once 7t was in despair. I tried many supposed remedies, but none of them helped. me. One day a friend advised me to try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills; telling me that she had found then good in a case similar to mine. "I followed her advice and be- gan taking the pills. They soon gave rat some slight relief. Encouraged by this I continued their use for several months and they strengthened my whole, sys- tem. I am to -day in excellent health line always keep 1)r. '1.Viliams' Pink Pine in the house, for if I feel a Tittle out o/' sorts I take a box of Pills and am soon nil right Thousandsagain" of youn.g girls throughout Canada suffer .just as Miss Lapointe did., They are siekby all the time and are to- tally unable to take the enjoyment out of life that every healthy girl should. They need a tonic to build them tip to enable them to withstand the worrier of household or business duties; tee give them strength to enjoy social life. suet a tonic is Dr. Williams' Pink Pills. for Pale People. These Pills. give blood to bloodless girls; they strengthen the nerves; banish headaches and backaches, cure indigestion, rheumatism, heart pal- pitation and relieve the .many ills of girl- hood and womanhood„ Sold by all medicine dealers or direct by trail at SO cents a box or six boxes. for $3.50 from The Dr. Williams' Medicine Co., Brock- ville. Ont. The industrial census of Germany for 1907 (just published by the German Ira- penal Bureau of Statistics) gives 4,025,- 501 industrial concerns, employing 14,- 348,e98 persons, of whom 3,510,466 were women. The increase in twelve years is 4,079,120—a ratio about four times as great as that of the employing concerns. These figures do not include railroad, postal, telegraph and telephone employ. pee.