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The Herald, 1910-08-05, Page 7Saved From the r,'•'0 Sea "Ah! dear Helen,ou are too good!" said the other, sadly. "I must not— eau not go! it would not be fair to you, as things are with me; it is all chang- ed— "Nothing is changed to the world," said Helene. stanchly, "and indeed nothing to us—Frank and me, and the Cliffords —except that which draws us all the closer to you. Promise me you will • come back with us." "Helen, I cannot -1 cannot!'' Christine said, much agitated, despite her efforts. "I cannot promise to leave London, either; I may ,be wanted. I could not promise, even if I ought; "'Ought' is not the question, dear. Will you come, then Or later, if you can, or find it to your convenience?" A sudden thought flashed across Chris- tine that made her catch her breath. Mr. Orde had said he should send for Falconer if there was a lock -out; Nest Hill was •only twenty miles from Grabs - Bowdon, and she would thus be near her husband, and if there was any danger she would hear of it quickly. She wavered, and'Helen Addison seized her advantage. "•1Vho hesitates is lost!" she cried. "Surrender at discretion! You will come, if you possibly can?" "I am beaten, Helen," she said, un- steadily. "I will accept your generous kindness if I can, but you must tell Major Addison all." "If I may—the secret is yours." "Seeret!" repeated the other, with bit- ter emphasis, "when such a girl • as Blanche holds it!" "E'en!" said Mrs. Addison. "I don't think she will dare to gossip about you again in a hurry. You should have :een the look her uncle gave her! Heaven! I shouldn't like such a look from him! And she needn't have the least hope that St. Maur will ever make her an offer, to please twenty Mr. Ordes, or for twenty fortunes—for he won't! 1'd take care he did not, either!" Humor and Pathos, Comedy and Tra- gedy, in hand -clasp again. There stood the man's wife hearing the speech, smil- ing inwardly, despite the misery in het poor, aching heart. "No," she said, quietly, "ate flirted, but she could scarcely attract St, Maur's fancy beyond that. Is your brother in town?" "How wickedly you said that! Yes, he is en route for Folkestone, since the Cliffords go there. He spoke to the doctor yesterday, and is accepted, sub- ject to the young lady's consent" "Alt, dear Mimie—then I think he is safe enough to venture," said Mee. ltr- rington- "I shall hear more of itsoon, no doubt." "Yes. Well, georx-nyenor the presena. my dear, dear Christine. I shall see you again before we go into Tient." $he kissed her fondly .and took her leave. CHAPTER XXIX., • Christine, hi writing to her husband from her new domicile, had told him what had happened, and why she had necessarily at once left. She merely stated that shehiad refused to give any explanation of her clandestine meeting, or premise it should be the last; but she entirely suppressed the questions and answers about her.eertificate and the de- liberately permitted impressicn that she had never been married at all. Of Ken- ton Morley she said nothing. Poor, tortured heart, how it ached for the loved one! Could she bear the long, indefinite separation that seemed to stretch away into so dark a future? Oh, that curse of play, that load of debt, that threw honor itself as a farther weight into the scale against then!! Oh, the bitter truth of what St. Maur hal said! What honest work could possibly take the place of the security given even if he could get it? what but the equivo- cal chances of the gaming -table or the • turf could do it? She sat in the corner of the sofa the Evening after Helen's visit, wearing crit heart and brain with thinking over all this in a thousand possible and itnpcs- sible phases, blind and deaf to outward sight and sound. She was alone, deso- late, as in those long six years of an- guish, and she scarcely even beard the room -door open and close, or a light step cross the carpet. till sonte one knelt be- side her, locked her in his arms, and nas- .01111•01MMINIMMIlmemimIW., •12111.11 Change that limping, useless horse� into a sound, healthy horse, wilting and eager to do a good day's work. Don't let a Spavin, Curb, Splint, Sprain, Ringbone or any other Lame- ness keep your horse in the stable. Cure it with F A r119 Spew Cure It cares without leaving a scar, blemish or white hairs—because it does not blister. Port Zalls, IS.C,, June 14th 1909 "Have been using your Z,ininlent for years and find it altthat you represent. '#ate not been without it for10 years." G$OItGn GORDON. $1, a bottle -6 for 45, )~neellent for household use. Sold by all dealers. .Ask for free book "A. Treatise On The. gorse" or write tie for copy. 4114 OR. O. J. IiElrnALt CO. liaeshere Fath, eta sionately kissed her again and again. "My one treasure—my heart's lifer St, Maur whispered, as she clung to 'him, rrtartled, breathless with the sudden re- vulsion of feelings. "Now indeed you must come to your right shelter and pro- tection, for my rash act, that fatal step into the moonlight, has cost you such hone as you had. You are alone, and I eannot—I cannot leave you so, the more for the maddening memory of the past." "Falconer, hush; not e word of that, my husband; it is long singe repented of, expiated, and forgiven. And 'I---" He interrupted her with almost fever- ish vehemence, tightening his clasp. "Don't tell me again you will not come, for I have come to take you away with me abroad. Hush! no refusal"—for a moment his lips stifled the' dreaded words on hers—"for I have got you, my darling, and will not let you go. How your heart beats and throbs against mine; and you are trembling so, dearest!" "You -you frighten me, Faire; in pity let me go." "Not yet," he said; `(lie still in my arms and hear me. We can live abroad wherever you choose. No shadow of shame shall toteeh my wife as it did long ago; and no whisper shall reach my uncle in his little world, so apart from ours, as long as he lives; and I willl cease to be a gambler in the hour .you come back to me. I eau, I will, with you at my side," "Falconer, it is all an utter fallacy, a fool's paradise, as you know well in calmer 'moments. I know myself and you, and if there were nothing else, the horrible monotony of such an existence to us, so essentially oitizens of the `world ,would madden beyond endur- ance. Nothing is altered in the whole position since I spoke to you at your ;chambers, Fele; all that I said then holds good now, and you saw it plain- ly„ "Never, my heart," he said, between his teeth., "never, my heart! You stilll refuse, then?" "Yes, for your sake—for the sake of our whole future!" St. Maur put her from him, rose up, and walked four or five times through the room, then stopped before her. "I have striven against this demon or`your sake, in the passinate love I rear you, to win you back. I have given up turf -gambling, as I told you at Nest Hill; but in very revenge, it seems, for partial defeat, the demon has driven me on at all the other play since then. Its fierce grip felt resistless. I am des- perate, reckless. I have lost heavily in the hope of winning to clear that debt, and I will . do it. I must go on . till I gain those thousands which shall set me free to claim my wife and lose the wealth' to which I .am heir, if it must be. I have got gold still. I'1S keep my word to you, and not stake more than I can meat or raise, but I must play! I am going to -morrow to 'Monte Carlo." Every wild, fevered word was as a dagger in that woman's passionate, lov- ing heart; every word a creel tempta- tion to yield to that agonized yearning, and cry, "_r will go back to. you!" but even then she saw that the man'ssoul, undisciplined, struggling between good and evil—hope and despair—had reach- ed a crisis on which Bung its whole fu- ture; it was • the battle brought to a hand-to-hand warfare between the pas- sion of love and the passion of play. The first had been slowly, insidiously mastering the latter for months, and the fierce enemy, feeling itself being vanquished, was making a superhuman effort to regain its lost ground and re - seize its victim, as the dying man des- perately rallies, or the flickering candle leaps up in a last blaze before it perish- es. All this, like a flash of tight in darkness, Christine saw—saw that to yield one inch would be fatal now—saw that she must strike one strong, fierce blow and risk its recoil. ' "Go, then!" she said, with a look and tone that made the red blood sweep to his bronzed cheek. "I, the gambler's wife,. . bid the gambler take his ill-got- ten gold and tiling it on the cast of a die or the turn of a painted card, and when the fever of excitement is at its worst, and the mad play, whether in gain or loss, is at the highest, remember that far away in this great city a wo- man waits alone for her prodigal, writ- ing in letters of blood—`A gambler's wife, loved less than the glittering, mas- ter -vice that, like the Harpies, de- grades all its touches.' " She had strtfck the blow now; she had buried the weapon to its hilt in the man's very heart's core, too deep to be dragged from the quivering wound that was numbed at first with the intensity of the agony. He steed like one paralyz- ed, crushed, a deathly pallor on his face as she buried hers in the eushions by her, his livid lips sot, his hand clinch- ed till the blood almost started under the nails. Outwarelly,stilleess, bub with- in a chaos of passions and torture, the stern, pitiless voice of conscience that cried aloud and would not be silenced. A.n awful sense of blank, of something lost—loved less than the master-vice— a agmbler's ,wife, the bitterness of truth, of self-reproach, of self -scorn, and of hers, forced their way into his soul, stinging him like scorpions. He was 4. azed, maddened: "Yen bid me go from you and gam- ble," he said, so hoarsely that it scarce- ly seemed the same voice she knew. "You send me back to Monte Carlo with words that are worse than death! Do I need driving to desperation and despair, that you almost tell me I have lost your love and you your faith in mine!„ Christine's very heart , stood still in its agony. She ecxrcely'.larecl to move. or speak lest she should break quite down and perbhanca undo what she had just done; and yet one softer touch she must give; she saw that instantly; she could not, must uot, let him go quite like this, and she lifted herself lifted the great dark eyes' full of bitter Leers that would not be quite suppressed, to his, "No, not Olt! Falconer, never either you 'must know—never in the wildest, moment think that My love or faith in yours has ,failed, but only renieniber all my words" • "Scathing words," he maid', hoarsely, "that aro burning into me like red-hot iron. There is no fear of my forgetting thein when I'in gone.' Good-bye." Her 'strength • was almost spent, but she whispered, the words, "Au revoirf' as he turned away. The next moment he had swung round and caught her passionately to his breast. "I cannot part like thya --I cannot! My darling, this—this at :east!" One close kiss on !tet lips and she was put back; the door shut; she was alone with her bitter anguish. CHAPTER XXX. What wonder that, a day or two hater, when Dr. CiUffeed and Mimie came to say "good-bye," both thought Christine looked• i11? The doctor's sharp, experi- enced eyes especially sow the signs of deepened trouble 'int he beautiful face that could not be concealed; it lay in the, velvet dark eyes, in the lines of pain about the sensitive, resolute mouth. "This won't do, my dear," said he, shaking his head; ''it won't do, Chris- tine, and I warn you that if you are il! I shall come a.nd carry you straight off home again; she'n't ask' 'May I?' you know!" Mrs, Errington smiled faintly. "l am not ill, doctor; but if I 'were, I am afraid you would find me rather a troublesome patient, and be glad to get rid of mel' n "Not we!" said .1Ti.tnie, nestling to her as she sat beside ker. "Father and smelt 1 elk nurse you as we did before." "I know you would, my darling; but indeed. you muss not be the least anxious about me. When do .you leave town, deetcr?'' "To -morrow, my clear, and return in the leg -inning of Oetober. By the bye, Whom do you think I met to -day in Pall Mall?" "I cannot guess—unless it was Major Addiscs i--ro, they are gone." "1 met Sir. Arthur ('braining, and we heti quite -a chat; he had come up yesterday from Staffordshire, en routs for the continent; but I was very sorry to hear that this strike at Mr. Orde's— the Grass -Bowdon mines--; eenrs to he serious. Knowing the old gentleman and his nephew, one feels interested: in the matter." How deeply Christine was interested he never dreamed. "Yes," she said, "the wren have been cat as month already';, totem. :I suppose, then; that Mr, at: ;ti`,Z.ir s going there Was useles$" "Well, yes, so far; he, too, left yes- terday. It seems that now they have had the impudence to add a demand for 'the. dismissal of the manager (who es away ill) for some very groundless com- plaints, the truth being that he had sacked some of these agitators whom he had discoverers in unfair dealings. But they won't cow old Orde, as Chan- ning saki, and certainly net that daring fellow St. Maur, who, it seems, met the men at a very stormy meeting, on his uncle's behalf. He told them straight out that their da'mands were too out- rageous to len entertained for a mom'nt, in the depressed Mate of the market; that they were being swayed by a few demagogues- socialists—who, for their own end, were sitting them against their master, and they would find the struggle to their less. He told them that the manager should -on no account be dismissed, nor an advance of eight per cent. given by Mr. Crete. Some shouted: "'He'd give it if you'd let him; it's all your doing!' "'Yes, it is, says St. Maur, as cool as a cucumber (Charming was on the platform) ; 'if he needed any. persuasion I'm the man to do it!' "He would be heard, too. He said that. Mr. Orde, though at a loss, would give then' 4 per cent. advance if they returned to work in a month; but if not, he would lock out until they came back at the present rate of wages, if he shut the !nines for a hvelvemonth." "That was St. Maur all over!" said Christine, her eyes sparkling. 'He will not be intimidated or frightened. Were they violent?" "Very near it! but it ended with hisses and groans, and a surge that came to nothing; only Channing says they aro furious against St. itiattr now, be- cause they think (truly, too, I expect) that the lockout threat comes 'from him principally." "And he will be Draconic--rightly !" said Falconer's wife. "Does Sir Arthur think the men will accept` the very rex-' sonable--nay, generous—compromise?" "ll'tn! very doubtful," answered Clif- ford. "Ignorant oiatinacy and ugly temper are gener'rafly helplessly stupid until starved out like an. animal. .tks to St. Maur, 1 believe he would sooner be caned than give in: Certainly, says Channing, there zrt•ay be an ugly btisiites's before it's ended; they're a terrible rough lot, and Mr. Orde has fairly put the battle into L. llai.u's hands `';heir master, one day --sir it's as well they should see at once what sniff he is made of." "Yes; and they can not easily mistake that!" said Christine, with proudly throbbing heart. "le Mr, Otde at Grass- Rowdon still?" "No; but he is not far off. Charming says he goes to -clay to some place with- in easy reach. St. Maur has gone abroad; I don't know where." Mrs, Ellington could have told hint that. She asked; "One , month given them, you say': That is; then, till about the eighth of Oc tober,"' "Yes, about then.." 'lea wan now brought in; and alter that, the doctor -and his dauglitereethe latter almost crying ---bid geed -bye, and left Only a rnontlr-poor, aching, faithful, heart!—only a Month, and lie must sure: ly be back. in England' Would . ha come to her? When—where--how Would they meet?. • Ah! how? She had taken a Wet desperate measure that must kill er save, So the dreary, anxious days went by into weeks, and still that woman watched and waited for her prodigal till he should "came back and be forgiven." CHAPTER XXXI, One golden September afternoon De.. Clifford sat alone on a bench just be; yund the Lees at Folkestone. Blanche had strolled off with • the Pitzroys and Captain Darnley, whom they had met here—not to the doctor's liking as regards the latter, though he was not thinking of her at all just now, for his gaze rested on the figures of Itis daughter and Archer Northcote, far be- low on the beach, with that sweet, half - regretful pleasure that is so deeply ting- ed with sadncs, with which in mature years we look upon the reflex of our own youth; put before us as in a magic rairror—a pleasure checkered by a vague passing wish that we could for one mo- ment go back and dream over again; and a sorrowful pity for the young dreamers, whose dream we know roust too soon be crossed by life's stern, hard realities and troubles. Ile 'watched the two figures till they disappeared under the cliff; and then, from the very converse of the picture, perdtaps, Ids thoughts went to the young creature he knew as Christine Erring- ton—here, two lives beginning, bright and full of !rope; there, a life blighted, hopes dead, the haples' victim of reck- lese passion and deception. So was he buried in bitter, painful thoughts that he did not hear some one coming over the grass, and positively started as a full, hearty voice exclaim- ed: "It is Dr. Clifford, by all that is good luck!" "Mr. Orde! you down Isere? How do you do?" They shook hands cordially, and 1Ir. Orde sat down on the bench. -Quite an unexpected pleasure!" he said. "1 bad no notion you were here, dieter. How and where are the ladies?" "My daughter is en the beach with young Northcote—you remember him?" "Yes. indeed, 1 fancied that he was taken in that quarter. Nice young fee low, and a. goad deal with my boy. And where is Miss Leroy and that handsome Mrs. Errington ?" "Blanche is on the Lees with some friends, and birs. Errington is in Lon - doe. She has left us, deeply to my re - "Left? Deal-, dear! whet a pity!" "Yes,". said the doctor, quite!y; "she had to heave ratner suddenly, in corse- qttenee of some family affair, that re- gnired her unfettered attention for some time to come." 'This was strictly. true. "I met ('banning,' he adder!, "anrl heard about the strike, How misguided the men are! It's a bad business." "For them—yes," said SVilii,t:n Orde, grimly. ..We sha'n't yield. What I"ale told them 1'1 stick to; and the month of grace is tweets' run out. 1 just len,- ped down here for a little sea air before I go home. I don't g:'t young, doctor, anis things bother me more time they used to." "rib!" said Clifford, with a hall -sad smile, "that is all our experien+'e when we've turned the eorncr of our hest years. But this mutter you have, I bear, put into your nephew's hands?" "Yes, indeed; all the exeeutive; and, by Jove!" said Mr. Cede, beginning to laugh; "he'll carry it through with a high band if they are too obstreperous —show 'em some California ways, I ex- pect. I shall send for him, of course, if they don't come in." "Is your nephew still abroad, then?" "Yes; the young scamp has taken himself 'off to Monte Carlo—which place I suspect, knows him better than steady old fogies like myself quite approve." "Ale!" said the doctor, looking (lown; "fond of high play, you mean. Monte Carlo is an awful place for gambling, certainly." "'V'ery bad; and at nearly two -and - thirty, I think he should steady down and marry." "So do I," said the doctor, a little dryly "but it is a question whether some lady unknown would. be wise to •go in for the second state till the first was au fait accompli." t10 be continued.) KEEP BABY'S SKIN CLEAR. Few parents realize how many crstdm- able lives have bean embittered and so- cia] and business +success prevented by serious skin affctrorrs which :so often result from the neglect of minor erup- tions in infancy aril childhood. With but a little mire acrd the use of proper emollients, baby's stir) met hair may be preserved, purified and beautified, min- or eruptions preveeted from hamming, chronics and tort! rrri;, disfiguring rash- es, itehinge, irritations and chafing: dis- pelled. To this eud nothing is so pare, so sweet, so speedily effective as the ..use of t'uticura Soap ,assisted when ne- cessary by Cuth'orl, Ointment. Sold by druggists everywhere, Send to Potter Drug as Chem. Corp., Boston, Td. S. A.,. sole proprietors, for their free 32 -page Cuticura I3ook, telling ell about the care and treatment of the skin. w>a. Cadets at tete United Services College at Windsor, England, are t•iugb.t the prsneiples of a.orenauties, AN ORGAN FUR 25 CENTS A WEEK We have on hand thirty-five Organs, taken in exchange en Ifeintaman & pianos, which we must sell regardless of loss, .to make room in our store. Every instrument has peen thoroughly over- hauled, and is guaranteed for five years, and full amount will be allowed on ex- change. The prices run from $10 to $$5, for such well-known makes as Themes, Dominion,Kern, Uxbridge, Goderich anu Bell. This is your chance to save money. . frost card will bring full particulars,- Heinfzman . & Co., 71. King street east, fi'am=lton, EEL AND MAN IN GRAPPLE TO DEATH. Bloornfiejd, N. J. -Frank Tomski went out fishing, paused en the bank of the Morrie canal, and stood there dabbling around with his line and hook in the water when. John Fritz same along. Fritz thought he would have a little fun with Tomski. He crept up behind him and gave him a push that landed the fisherman in the canal. Just as he struck the water a big eel came un to nibble at the hook. Tomski grabbed the neck of the eel with one hand, and snatched at the fish line with the other, just like a drowning man grabbing at a straw. Of course Tomski knew that he couldn't pull himself out by a flimsy little fish line, but he grabbed just the sante, and caught the hook in his thumb. That put one hand out and the other hand was in a death grapple with an eel. It looked for a time like the eel might win out. The slimy, snaky thing hiked up his hind. tail and gave Tomski a slap on the face which made him release his choking grasp, and just then Johnson McQueen came along and saved Tomski from a watery bier. The village constable is now look- ing for John Fritz, who ran away, 'laughing at his little joke, as Mc- Queen approached. He will be arrest- ed, when found, on the charge of cruelty toan animal and a human being. The flies that are now in your kitchen and .dining room 'were probably feasting on some in- describable nastiness less than an hour' ago, a id aye a single fly ear- .. `. ries many thousands of disease germs attached to its hairy body, it is the duty of every housekeeper to assist in exterminating this worst enemy of the human race. Wilson's Fly Pads are without a doubt the best fly killers made; IN THE PUBLIC EYE. 'WOODItOW WILSON. Woodrow Wilson for governor of New Jersey in 1911. Woodrow Wilson for president of the United States in 1912. This is said to ire the programme of New Jersey Democrats and others, who seem to be afraid of Judson Hare non, of Ohio Wall street, it is claimed, has com- bined with certain political interests to bring about the preferment of Wilson, and Roger Sullivan, of Il- linois, ex -Senator Jas. Smith, of New Jersey, as well as some New York• politicians, are said to be interested in this programme. Woodrow Wilson has never been known as a politielan, although he has been en educator of prominence, a writer on political and historical subjects and president of Princeton University since 1902. Limitations. We all have them. And we should admit it. Perhaps not to all the woi1,. lint to ourselves, at any rate, We should not talk beyond our depth. We should not, unless swimmers, evade beyond our depth. We should not go. beyond our depth in the natter of collarless blouses. Ind( ed, we all of us have our limits!.s • Vous, and we should recognize them. Frankness is beautiful, but insistence on weak points antalnts to stupidity.