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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1911-10-06, Page 2A DIFFICLLT SITUATION; OR, THE END CROWNS ALL. CHAPTER XX.—(Cont'd) "Not . a thing old or musty about it!" Violet exclaimed with uriumph, when she and Joy finally name to anchor in the smartly-up- hioistered drawing -more; "give me aew • things, all gay and fresh. I lon't care for your worm-eaten old oak, and faded old chintzes. Give me everything new and smart. And '11 tell you what," she added, hen her husband had left the oom; and the two were alone, ''1 ouldn't say it to anybody, but I'll ay it to you, because you've be- aved to me like an anger straight `gut of heaven, and I can't ever hank you properly, but I'll toll you his—I'm millions of times happier n a house like this, with Jem and we servants that don't look down t me and watch for me to make • 'stakes, than ever 1 was and could in Standon Towers!" "I am glad you are happy here," oy said, trying not to notice the ulgarity of the looped -up curtains, he plush chairs and sofa. the pots ied up with silk handkerchiefs, and the huge lamp shade, "1 am so Eery glad you are happy." "Jem and me, we're as, happy as the day is long. I'm sorry" — she had the grace to look ...ashamed— "I'm really sorry I ever carried on Ole way 1 did with Sir Godfrey, and I'd like to have told him so—only one can't say things like that, and besides I never saw him again af- ter that day he left Standon Tow- ers—that day when be looked so ill." "He went abroad very soon after that." "Yes, I know. He wrote and Asked me to be his wifeJoy. The letter that came from him the day you found out about Jem, was to lsk me to marry him, and I just wrote and told. him the whole truth. ¶'Oh, I'm glad you did!" Jot' said ' lahlsi.ely. x �.. ' $'? _#.10(1 _ I xis • ,ee.' 1 was ar Isease'tu him --same as I've been to -sem-and to Lady Martindale. -But I told him the truth, and all about Jem being jealous and knocking him down out of madness and jeal- ousy, for Jem isn't the sort that ants to kill anybody. I told him 11 that, and he wrote me a letter hat made me cry, it was so kind." "Sir Godfrey is one of the kind- st men 1 know," answered .Joy. "You're right there—that's just chat he is. And I hope—my good- ness !—I do hope he and Lady Mar- tindale*" "Don't let us talk about them," Joy said quickly, her color rising, "1 don't think we ought to talk of —of their affairs." "All right," Violet laughed good-humoredly, "you've got a lot of funny sort of ideas, haven't you ' t suppose they're born in you, and you can't help them. It used to make me feel as if 1 was standing on tiptoe all the time, and stretch- ing up my neck too far, when I lived with all of von, trying to un- derstand your ways. My word, you have got some rum notions !" Violet's odd smile made Joy laugh; but it was a very kindly laugh, and when she rose to go, she kissed Violet's lovely, beam- ing face, with sisterly affection. "1 do like to see you so happy in Scour own house," she said. "Next week 1 am going to take Aunt Rachel back to Mottesley. The peo- ple who bought the house have been obliged to go abroad, and were glad to let us have it again. Won't it be beautiful to take Aunt Ra- chel back "Then aren't you going to live at Standon Towers?" "Part of the year Aunt Rachel and 1 will be there, and part of the year at Mottesley ; and when we are at Mottesley, I hope Lady Mar- tindale -will come there, too. I couldn't bear to think of her alone." "And when yeti marry your friend, Mr. Roger,—what then V' Violet asked mischeviously. A flood of crimson rushed to .Joy's very forehead. "Roger is like my brother," she said, bravely trying to meet Vio- let's mocking eyes, "he and I—there is --•nothing of that sort at all. He 4't in the least want to marry rue." "Aren't you a little blind hoose?" Violet put her hands up - un Joy's shoulders. and looked vt„gin into the shrinking eyes. "Mr. "'.scall -..'.why he'd give anything in the whole world to marry •you ; he worships the very ground your feet tread upon. Anybody that wasn't an idiot eould see that ho loves you—not the way brothers love their sisters. But oh, you're a blind silly, Joy f Don't you see he's poor, and you're rich—dread- fully rich—and he's as proud as ever man could be? He'd never ask you to marry him, not if he was to die for want of you. He'd never auk von, because you're rich and he's poor. He's too jolly proud bo ask you, my dear. You'll have to make your mind to ask him!” CHAPTER XXI "He's as proud as ever man could be—he'd never ask you to marry him, not if he was to die for want of you." Joy walked along the path in the Manor House garden, the path over which a trellis work of roses shut out the blue sky of June, and Vio- let's words, spoken a fortnight be- fore, spread themselves out before her eyes as though they were actu- ally written upon the gravel path in letters of light. "Anybody that wasn't an idiot could see that he. loves you . . . - he would give anything in the world to marry you ... but he's as proud as ever a man could be—he'll never ask you." These words lingered longest in Joy's mind—these words danced on the path before her in letters of fire. She saw them inscribed on the vivid green of the lawn—framed by the further end of the rose -covered trellis. She saw them in the soft blue of the summer sky visible through the trailing branches of crimson rambler, and white and yellow banksia. They filled her whole heart. Over there on the lawn, just where the sweep of a cedar -tree bough threw a. shadow across the daisies, Miss Raehel sat, book in hand, an expression of unw; fergne.d:. h :ppiness> en -her pee , lace • lir baa bark here, `in' the: hoarse: to sit agar, yin the lawn °&p the shade of the cedar -tree, where as a child she had threaded daisy chains, had filled the old lady's• soul with contentment. She and Joy were now quite settled again in the Manor House and, as she sometimes said, with her gentle smile, her- cup of happiness would brim over, but for the overhanging shadow of Roger's coming depar- ture. The business connected with Mr. Falkner's will and Joy's in- heritance was now almost at an end; there was no longer anything. to keep the young man in England, and when he was last at Mottesley he had told his aunt and Joy that he should very shortly return to Australia. In his own mind he was sure be- yond a doubt that Mr. Thomas Falk- ner had intended to leave him some of his vast fortune -indeed, - the sheep farmer's intention had been expressed with sufficient clearness. Roger remembered the faltering ac- cents in which the old man had murmured: "I'll send—for a lawyer—to-mor- row--you shall—not — be—a—los- er." But no to -morrow had ever come in this world for the old man, Before to -morrow dawned, he had passed into the silent''land, from which no traveller returns. Roger had determined to go back to Australia and begin once again the search for work—he knew there was no alternati\'e to this determin- ation. Jay's great fortune, and the inheritance whieh.the new dis- covery of her parentage had proved to be hers, had together set her for ever out of his reach. She was not only a rich woman, she was an ex- traordinarily rich one, and he was to all intent and purposes penniless. Miss Rachel had only consented to come back and live in the Manor House because Joy, having pleaded hard to be allowed to buy back her childhood's home, went on to plead that she needed a chaperone to live them* with her. But for this plea, Miss Rachel, whose pride was little less strong than that of her ne- phew, would scarcely have been persuaded to leave her sister's dreary London house, even to re - then t -o Mottesley. Joy's adroit insistence on firer need of achaperone, joined to the Pn, nest /ilea to be ellenescl ,to do Sal e.thine at last to `''nnt' the love and care that had wrapped her round since her baby days, at last prevailed upon Miss Rachel; and it gladdened joy's heart now to see the old. lady's blissful delight in house and ,garden. Lady MO— tindale had promised to paythem a visit early in Jule; and in -the autumn both Joy and Aunt Rachel. were to take up their abode for'u time at Standon Towers; but mean- while, in the fragrant June; of roses and sunshine, the girl's heart grcwv heavier 'every day. She was too simple and sincere to conceal from herself the reason. for the heavy weight upoa her' heart. Even to herself she did not deny the truth. Roger's coming departure was like a nightmare:, the thought of it stung her soul to sharp pain. That Roger should•' be going to the other side of tiro world again hurt her with a 'hurt that seemed almost intolerable. For in the last few weeks she had learnt beyond all doubt that -he was nea,:n titer brother to her, nor merely' friend—but soinething infinitely nearer, infinitely more dear 1 All her life she had been ascus-:, tome e to face things squarely and` frankly; and her nature was tan. sane and healthy to allow •her to torment herself with any morbid,, fears of being unwomanly in thus owning to .herself that Roger was all the world to her. "I'm not ashamed of caring," she said at once to herself, "there's no,. body like Roger on the face of the earth. There is nothing to b$' ashamed of in caring for him!" And now --Roger was going out. of her life, going out of it, perhaps; for ever ; and she?—was she to sit still anal let him go, when she cared for tum—and—if Violet spoke truly, he cared for her? Pacing up and clown under the trellis of banksia and crimson ramblers, those words of Violet swung to and fro in her brain, un- til they almost maddened her. "He's too jolly proud evento ask you -you'll have to ask hies." Joy reached the sloping path b-=. gond the trellis of roses, aini walla ing rapidly down it between beds of larkspurs and the tall lily flow ers, made her way to a faro.:'bis nook of her own - a little where, through a clearing in • wood, she could catch a glimpse far blue distance and misty hills, "My think place," she had calls it when a child, and as she up the little dell had still' co ed to be the place where she: t any puzzling thoughts -or Mem' ' She sat -claw a n2b;;,a b 'r -the hazels, wised tt iaaa _anted the. air, an pep 'face in her hancl*,: shoo across the peep of plain'below the soft hills outlined against tli sky. The sun was dropping slowls4 to the west; a flood of yellowlight hung over hills and plain, weaving enchanting veils of loveliness about the tree tops, and turning the but- tercup meadow to her right into a veritable field of the cloth of gold In the hazel copse, the thrushes still sang; from the meadow came the evening song of the lark a rob- in fluted softly in the ash -tree over her head. "Just because I am rich, and he is poor, we must both be unhappy and spoil both our lives," she said aloud, her eyes turning from the. glory in the west, to watch a black- bird scuttling across the dell, "and yet, how eati 1, do what Violet said l Oh 1 how can 11" And alone' though she was, the color flamed into her face; she felt has if even the blackbird's sharp, in- quisitive eyes were searching too closely to see what was in her heart. "1 don't think 1 can,"—her ,hotights swung one way; "yet— supposing I ought?" the pendulum swung back again; and she sat on, under the ash -tree in the dell. un- til the sun dropped finally behind the far-off hills. The glor» fading out of the west, left behind. it a sky of palest green and daffodil yellow.; the soft fragrant, -twilight of June crept over plain and woodland, and with a sigh she rose and moved slowly back towards the garden. "I—don't know—what to do,", she thought, "and—I can't ask Roger"—she laughed a low, amus ed laugh, that died away in a sigh, "What are you laughing at, Joy all to yourself, its the twilight $" Roger's own voice called to her' from the trellis of roses; and start- ing at the unexpected sound, she saw Roger himself was coming to meet her down the path between the larkspurs and the tall white lilies, He looked so quiet, so nor mal, so exactly like his every -day brotherly self, that Joy found her self saying hurriedly in her own mind— "Violet made a mistake, she cer- tainly made a mistake. He doesn't care for me excepting as a sister. I am nothing to ]aim—nothing at tall 1" "Did 1 startle you ?" His Yoko 1 broke in re her thoughts. "1 redly had .. intention of coming °RDS Safe investments having broad markets are available for any individual desir- ous .of placing surplus funds to obtain a satisfactory return of interest --41/2 per cent. to 6 per cent. There is every advantage in buying' standard bonds which are readily mar- ketable and on which income is regu- larly received This com/.any offers Bonds of such character. The prospective investor may be thoroughly informed and may personally investigate these securities by having our Statistical Department sub- mit the results of our olvn investiga- tions. 'Gists of Bonds for special purposes furnished. ES RkTLON-LIMITED TORONTO :,/v10,1 i rl AL . LONDOPLE2IG. down to -day, or I would, of course, have wired to ask if my coining would be inconvenient. But late this :afternoon I was offered some work in . Sydney. It will necessi- tate my starting next week, so I ran down to tell—r" "Next week?" Joy stood still on the pathway, facing him in th6- gathering dusk, his words making bee heart beat chokingly, all the thoughts' which she had just been thinking concentrating themselves into one great question : "Can I do it? Can I do it 2" "I am sorry my time in England is Cut, shorter than I expected," Roger went on, still in those cheery, zaormai tones which, had Joy but n it, were so painfully as - "hat this was ` a..chance I ould tot miss; and I came eess*^andh Atint Retaliate ask you if I might stay with oth for a few days before I rt" - "Can •I do it?" Joy's thoughts pushed their way across Roger's words, as the two walked side by side under the canopy of roses whose sweetness made the purpling twilight fragrant. "Can 1 do it? No -oh, no !—I can't—I ean't—Vio- let has made a mistake. I am only like a sister to him—like a friend. It is impossible!" "You must stay with us till you start," she heard herself saying, and her voice was as normal and sisterly as his had been normal and brotherly; "you must give Aunt Rachel and me all your last days at home." "Everything is satisfactorily ar- ranged now for you, The business is practically finished," Roger said, as they emerged upon the lawn where' the daisies gleamed whitely under the cedar ; "if any difficul- ties should crop up, though I don't foresee that . they will, Mr. Deane has the threads of all your Austra- lian affairs in his hands. He will be en excellent adviser for you— most kind and trustworthy. And for the Martindale property, no one could be more helpful than Mr. Strachey." ED. 40....11 "1 think I am very lucky to have such good oounsellors and friends," Joy answered, trying to speak with her customary gaiety ; "but I shall miss you, Roger," she exclaimed impulsively, as they reached the house, and she paused on the threshold of the garden door. The light from a lamp inside the hall shone straight on her upturned face, and Roger saw that her lips quivered, that tears shone in her eyes. For amoment—nay, for less time than it -takes to say the words —his hardly -won control slipped from him. He put out his hand to- wards her. "Little Joy !" he whispered, un- der his breath, "little Joy !" Then, regaining his self-posses- sion, he drew back to let her pass into the house, saying in his former quiet tones: "It will be good to think of you and Aunt Rachel in this dear old place." (To be nontiued.) . Free Sample of Cutieura Oin't'ment Cured Baby's Skta ]Iniuor. That the Cuticura treatment is the most. successful and economical for torturing, disfiguring affections of the skin and scalp could receive no more striking proof than the re- markable statement made by Wil- liam Whyle, 325 Tudor road, Lei- cester, England. "A sample of Cutinura Ointment cured my baby's face. She had the measles when one year old, and it left her with a very scurfy forehead and face. It was very irritating and would bleed when she scratched herself. 1 took her to the doctor and he gave her some ointment. I tried it and it did no good. One night 1 said to my wife : 'How would it be to send for a sample of Cuti- cure ointment?' I did so, used it and my baby's face grew better. She has now a lovely skin, and 1 can safely say that Cuticura cured her.'.' Although Cuticura,' Soap and Ointment are sold throughout the world, those wishing to try for themselves, without cost their ef- ficacy _ in the treatment of eczema, rashes, itchings, burnings, scalings and crustings, from infancy to age, may send to the Potter Drug and Chemical Corp., Dept. 2W, Boston, U.S.A.., for a liberal trial of each, with 32 -page Cutipure Book, an au- thority on skin end scalp affections. THE BEST PRESERVES DURING TIIE PRESERVING SEASON Extra Granulated Sugar IS DAILY WINNING FR ESI LAURBLS. Os uniform high quality commends itself to all_ good housekeepers. "BEST FRUIT, BEST. SUGAR,, BEST PRESERVES." Ask your Grocer for Rcdpath Extra Granuated Sugar vosaleara The Canada Sugar Refining Co., Limited, Montreal Established in 1854 by John Redpsth. On the Farm it.„0101.....4106.40,..406,0, POTASH FOR WHEAT. There is an impression among the farmers generally that a .fertilizer should be especially rich in pot- ash. One cause tai this is no doubt from the marked effect 'that wood ashes has on most soils, writes -Mr. A. J. Legg. .\ A liberal application of wood ashes shows an improvement in crop production on almost any soil. This is usually attributed to the potash contained in the ashes. An analysis of the ashes usually shows from four • to five times as much lime as potash in the ashes, since wood ashes usually contain from five to eight per cent. of pot- ashy 35 to 40 per cent. lime and about two per cent. of phosphoric acid. The marked effect that wood ash- es has on almost all plants of the leguminous family seems to indicate that the lime in the ashes has more influence in making the ashes valu- able as a fertilizer than the potash does. Last year our fertilizer dealer put in a bag of fertilizer containing ten per cent. phosphoric acid and six per cent. of potash at the same price as the goods I was buying, which was a fourteen per cent. available phosphoric acid goods on condition that I would use it on wheat and compare them, side by side. 1 put the bag of fertilizer which contained the potash in niy grain drill, and when it ran out 1 con- tinued with the superphosphate con- taining fourteen per cent. available phosphoric acid without changing the quantity per acre. There was no perceptible, differ- ence in the growth of the wheat during the growing season. Tho wheat ripened by Juno 25th. There was no difference in the time of ripening. I could see little or any difference between the wheat with and that without the potash. I showed the wheat • to several farmers and all agreed that if there . was any difference between the two plats that it was in favor of the wheat where the fourteen per cent phosphoric acid without potash well applied. - I have not threshed and cannot.. give exact results, but it is a plain case that the -$3.00 per ton which I would have had to pay for the potash would have been a clear loss so far as results on the wheat crop were concerned. Both kinds of fertilizer were used so that both plats extended over a dark loamy soil with some sand at one end and a rather stiff yellowish clay soil. at the other end. It is usually considered that a loamy soil is not as well supplied with -potash as a clay soil, yet the potash applied did not show any improvement over the other ferti- lizer in the loamy soil. NOTES OF THE' SHEEP FOLD. Ensilage is not considered good for sheep and if it is fed at all it should be fed very sparingly and at intervals of two or three days. Turnips, carrots and sugar beets make fine. feed for sheep and no matter how small the flock is every farmer should raise some roots for the winter feeding. Sheep do not drink much water, but what little there is drunk must be absolutely clean. Some people assert that sheep do not drink water at all, but it may be because they do not have a chance to get clean water and must subsist on the dew on the grass. NOTES OF THE DAIRY. The busy bacteria gots busy ns the milk almost at the moment it is drawn from the cow. To squelch the bacteria and pre- vent them from souring the milk it must be cooled immediately after milking. Bacteria do not thrive in the eold but in heat only. If you keep your milk below 40 degrees the bacteria will have small chance. The dairy cannot be managed just right without the use of a thermometer, and it must be a good one, no 25, cent affair.Green fodder at the tail end of the summer is relished by cows as ice cream is relished by the school children. _u CARE OF CHICIKEN YARD. The poultry yard should be plows ed or spaded up every two weeks or•• so.. By exposing the under soil to the sun it keeps pure and the chicks. enjoy it. Ever notice that immedi- ately the chicken yard • is spaded' up the birds begin • to make daunt holes. How can they . do this an, hard ground"