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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1907-12-20, Page 3ranentTAZITIMYSIZNIMMOIVIV,Y=31dpi gThe and With dilated eyes and lips breathiess- • ly apart, and paling cheeks, the young gird heard, and arose. to her feet, and stood one moment, uncertain, .amazed, bewildered, and then reeling, held out her arms to her father. But at the same moment Falconer sprang forward, and caught her to his bosom, closing his arm around her fragile form, in a close, vise -like crushing, cruel grip. Daniel Hunter advanced upon him, and demanded his daughter. "No. You shall not have her, I know nothing about her being your daughter. 'She as mine—my bride—sly wife. She has pledged her marriage vows to me— here—at this altar. She is mine, and even were you her father you could not force her from me!" exclaimed Falconer. The maiden slightly struggled to free herself, but the pressure was increased, painfully, while he glared defiance at her father. "Do not struggle, Maud, my child; be quiet, be cool, remember the sacred roof we stand under. If he designs to enact a disgraceful scene here in this church, he deceives himself that is all. We will be patient with him, and when he is tired of that -tragic acting, he will release you, and you will come to me," said Dan- iel Hunter, Golly talcing a seat. But, to the surprise of all, Falconer O'Leary lifted up the maiden in his arms, and bore her clown the aisle and out of the church. Daniel hunter calmly arose, and went after them. Mr. Level and one or two gentlemen from the pews followed. Fal- coner bore 'his bride toward the little wagon. But Daniel Hunter overtook him, clapped his strong hond upon his shout der. wheeled hint around, and said: "Cee. here, I bore with your insolence just now because I did not choose to permit a disturbance in the church. We rare outside now; and I command you to release my daughter; for if I have to force you to do it, you shall suffer the utmost consequences of your outrage." "Never. She is my wife. Off, sir, I say, or do you take the consequences!" exclaimed the madman, and still hold- ing Maud in a tight grip. with his left arcs; he put his right hand in his bosom and 'drew a pistol:, "Oh. Falconer!" shrieked Maud, and she fainted away. Daniel Hunter instantly closed upon hien, and having both hands free, soon overmastered hinr, and wrested from his hand the pistol. He threw the wea- pon at a distance, and received his fainting daughter in his arms, just as an officer, reaching the spot, arrested Fal- eoner O'Leary. Daniel Hunter bore his daughter into the vestry room, where, prompt assist- . ance being rendered, she soon recovered. M. Level was present, looking very anxious. ."Is the carriage from Howlet.Hill here, sir?" inquired Mr. Hunter. "It is, sir. We came in it," answered 11Ir. Lovel. • "In that case, I will enter it with my daughter, and return at once to the Hail. I will send it back for you and Lucy. It shall be here by the close of the morning service." • "Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Hunter; we can easily remain in the village until evening, and cline at the hotel." "By no means; you shall have the carriage in time, and you must join me at dinner." "Very well, then, as you please; in the meantime, I shall endeavor to hold my curiosity in check until you can give me the explanation .of this strange piece of family history." "My dear Level, Dr. Channing I think it was who said, 'the true greatness of human life is almost always out of sight.' I can say the real romance of life is often quite as invisible! If we knew the life history of the commonplace peo- ple about us, how very much the re- verse of commonplace they might seem) But more of this another time." • . "Shall I call the carriage for you?" ."I thank you—if you please." i False • Mr. Level went out, and Daniel Hun- ter, leading his feeble, pale and trem- bling child, followed. The carriage drew up to the door, and Mr. Hunter placed Maud in, and was about to follow her, when he paused, drew Mr. Level aside,. and asked: "What has been done with that mad- man?" "O'Leary? He is taken in custody." "Get him set at liberty immediately, Lovell Nonsense! Get him liberated in- stantly, poor, moon -struck fellow! I shall not appear against him. Come— can I depend upon you? Will you at- tend to it?" "Yes, after morning service; there is no time now." "Very well; thank you. Good morn- ing," said Daniel Hunter, getting into the carriage, and giving the order for it to move, Maud was sobbing softly in the corner of. the back seat. Mr. Hunter watched her in silence for a time, and then gently took her hand, and asked: "Why do you weep, my dear child?" But Maud only shook her head, and sobbed the more. "Can you not trust in me, my lover' But Maud only pressed the hand that held hers—she could not speak. "Is it about this young O'Leary that you grieve, my dear?" Maud pressed his hand, and nodded with a suffocating sob. "Come, now, do net lay your poor head against that hard carriage frame; rest it on my bosom—there! Now, come; trust in Mie. and dry your tears, my dear! I would not for the world signalize our meeting by any unneces- sary � act, .to give you pain: In some re- spects, I am not much like other men, dear Maud. I do not pronounce an irre- vocable sentence of separation between yourself and your young lover." Maud started, clasped his hand con- vulsively, and pressed it to her lips, "Certainly not, my dear; I do not banish him. First, let him deserve my Maud, and he shall have her! If his affection for her is a high and holy sen- timent, it will make him worthy of her. Come, now, I. wonder why you weep!: What is it you want? Tell me!" "Oh, sir, I want—I Want to go back:° to Falconer! I only want to see how:,.j he is, and say a comforting word to him, and take leave of him kindly, as I ought —I, that have beers his comforter ever since we were children! Oh! I know he is so wretched at this very moment) I know he would give anything for the sight of my face- 011, sir, let us turn back and say a kind word to him!" "It may not be, my child. It would do no good, but rather harm. He does not want words. All he wants now is my Maud, and he cannot have her yet; he must conquer himself; he must change; he must deserve her before he gets her." . "Oh, sir, if you did but know him as I know him; how much he needs sooth- ing kindness, how impetuous he is, how wild, how ungovernable he is, how often unhappy, how much he needs me -he has been used to nue all his life—he can- not do without me! Oh, I know 'he cannot, poor Falconer; ! Oh, he will feel like half his being was stricken off with me! I know he will! he will he 111—I am sure he will be i11! Oh, sir, let us go back and see him," "It cannot be, my love! You must trust in your father's judgment, little one! This young man's furious passions must be left to rage themselves quiet, and then his reason will act! He will suffer, doubtless! But then, it is only through suffering that such natures ,as his can be corrected. Cheer up, my: dear girls do not quarrel with the discipline of life!" "If he had only someone to be kind to him, poor boy! to comfort and cheer rum, as 1 used to! If he were not so utterly alone—so desolate—no mother—no sister —no one to care for him! 01X, poor boy! if he had only someone to be kind to him!" 41404.4.6410190 00490060egt) tla Don't neglect your cough. 0000005,419431 `lr?" 0 Statistics show that in New York City alone over 200 people dye every week from consumption, ` And most of these consumptives might be living now if they had not neglected the Warning cough. You know howr quickly Scoz`teyv inak..ri otz enables you to throw off a cough o "cord: 7 :i. ALL DRUGGISTS: 50c. AND $LOO. ` "1 1afd°'iP"9N" "0"r° 40 0 0 "I will "care for h11n i will be kind to him, if he will let me.: 1)o not fear, my child! I shall not lose sight of him, I will endeavor to do far better for him than he or you could hope;; Cowie, now; dry nose sweet eyes!—elieer up, and let me se yon smile!Think of the mother you aur about. to meet! Oh, she Inas sent you many loving messages! sal, says that she is `not, surprised at all -- that she ever' felt you were her child, though she never new "And it does not sena so strange t., me, either. 'Was she—was Mrs. Hunter " Maud suddenly paused and flushed with joy, as she said: "Was niy mother quite well?" "Quite well, my dearest girl, and she will join us at Howiet gall very soon." "And I am her lost Maud—hone strange! I ought to be very much sur- prised, and yet I am nett" "I think, my love, that the ties of blood were so strong in Our case that we all felt an ineompreltensible, unae• knowledged attraction to each other." "Yes, yes, yes, sir," ,said Maud, softly, to herself, and then she sank into a sir lence that her father would not inter- rupt. When they reached Howiet Hall, and the carriage drew up before the door Daniel Hunter alighted, handed his daughter out, and, pausing a moment while he held her hand, said: "This is your home, my darling. Corse to niv heart and hearth. Welcome!" and he embraced her and led her up the stairs. "sirs. Hunter has arrived, . sir," said. the servant who attended the door. "Ah, indeed! How long since?" asked, Mr. Hunter, with surprise. and delight. 'Only this moment, sir. She has re- tired to her chamber.' "How did she come?" inquired Daniel Hunter, hurrying in. "In a hack, sir—it has just gone around to the stable." "My darling, where shall I leave you for a moment?" asked. Mr. Hunter, turn- ing to his daughter. Tisen opening the door of the drawing-roon>,a on the right- hand side of the hall, and seeing a fire burning in the grate, he ,ed her thither and drew forward a deep, soft chair, and placed her in it, saying: "Remain here, my dear; I will see your norther," and he left the room. He hastened upstairs to Mrs. hunter's. apartment, and found the lady seated in a lounging chair, leaning wearily back, and under the hands of her maids, one of whom was removing her bonnet aril veil, and the other kneeling at her feet, tak- ing off her fur over -shoes. At the sight of her husband all signs of weariness fled, and the lady started up to meet hien, eagerly inuceiring: "Have you seen her? Is she well? Have you brought her?" "Yes, dear, I have seen her, and brought her hither, and sipfs well. She Inf ' t�s•you iii f'he drawnns �-room." ' '�Ile'tty and Tilde, learn' the room; I .do 'not need your assistance," said the lady to her attendants; then turning to her husband, as they left the room, she said: `"Oh, bring here hither immediate- ly, Mr. Hunter. I do so long to em- brace her!" "Compose yourself; it is unusual for you to be so excited." "It is an unusual occasion. "You followed me very quickly." "Yes, poor Norah breathed her last the morning after you left, and within an hour after her death I left town." " "And Honoria and Percival?" "They. are at the hotel. Letty is with them." "Letty is in her usual health and spirits?" "Oh, certainly! Olr, do go and bring my daughter hither!" "Be cool, love. I tell you excite- ment is always enfeebling, if it be not a sign of original feebleness. I am go- ing to bring her now," said Daniel Hun- ter, turning to go down stairs. "I wonder what could move him," said the lady, just a little impatiently, as she walked up and down the floor. The door opened, and Daniel Hunter re-entered, leading Maud. The lady stopped in her walk and turned around. There she came—the long lost child— the beautiful maiden—aye, more beauti- ful than even the mother's fancy had ever pictured her; there she dame, with her eyes seeking her mother. Their eyes met—they did not rush, into each other's arms --their emotions were far too real, too deep, and., the maiden's feelings too nearly awful for that.'Their eyes were fixed upon each other, their faces instinct with emotion; they ap- proached each other slowly, and met in a silent, close embrace. 'And then the soft sound of smothered sobbing was heard. And Daniel Hunter went to the window and looked out, wondering why women wept at everything—at what they were glad of as welt as hat they were sorry for, and—wiped his own eyes. After it little while Mr,. Bunter lead her daughter to a sofa, and they both sat down. And the lady held the maiden's hands and gazed in her lovely face until her snowy eyelids, fell over the sweet blue eyes, and her soft cheek suffused with a rosy blush, and she grow lovelier than ever. And then the lady "raised her hand anti' looked at its exquisite beauty, and 'next took off her ` black bonnet and set free 'Pei' longlittle, bright ringlets --those peerlhss -•ringlets of that rich, rare hue, between the gold - end and the auburn, which old, classic painters loved so well, "Silt is: perfect; she is pc.'.fcct," was the verdict of the lady's judgment. , And then. she thought, with a transient swell of pride; of the sensation, of the wonder this matchless beauty would have created in "the cir- cles of London, Paris, Vienna—at any of the courts at which ahe herself had resided in the last seven years. But the nett instant the• sinful pride was suppressed, and she only felt that this was her own dear child ---her good and loving Maud; and with a silent,' hidden, restrained rapture, she drew and' pressed her to her bosom. .And 'fall this tittle CHAPI'I:R XXV, fir the morning Mrs. limiter and her beautiful daughter sat together in the chamber that had been assigned to the maiden. In stud; a pleasant apartment Coat T .may be pardoned for describing lt. it was on the second floor of the outlr wing of the mansion. It was a lofty, spacious room, with four high windows—two east and two west—where all day long the sunshine entered. Those windows were heavily curtailed with blue damask., lined with white sareenet, looped back with cords and tassels, show- ing inner curtains of rich lace. The hangings of the bedstead, and the cov- 'rings of two lounging chairs and a sofa, were of the same material and color. The elegant toilet that stood be- tween the east windows was draped with lace, lined with blue silk. And the style of the carpet on the flor was a light, riming vine of violets, over a white ;round. The dressing bureau, wardrobe, washstand, little table, etc., were of white satinwood, highly polished. A few cheerful loking pictures adorned the walls and pretty,quaint-looking vases, etc. stood upon the mantelpiece. A glowing coal fire. in a polished steel grate, com- pleted the comfort of the room. The low, luxurious sofa was drawn up to the fire, and Mrs. Hunter sat in it with her daughter at her side, with her arm around her waist, never weary or con- templating her, ever seeking a deeper and more real consciousness of the joy of possessing her. Combing her fingers through the soft, glittering ringlets, the lady murmured: "Strange, .I never thattght you were my lost child, yet. ever felt Ji. passing strange, yet tpsrfeetly true. When, I first saw you. little one—when. looking up from my class -book in the Sunday school, I first met those sweet, wistful blue eyes fixed on :ane, 1 felt some- thing- in their ]r a;: that was familiar, something that was intimate, that was my own, that was of myself. Your eyes had the very sane .expression that they had often worn when you were an in- fant on my bosom, when waking up .from your infant slumbers you would look out upon life with new wonder, and then up to ins with a questioning, loving, trusting look, as if asking what it was. And so when our eyes met that day in the Sunday school I felt that they were the some eyes that used to look out from a baby's face, which years before had lain upon nay bosom; the sane eyes gazing up into mine 'with the sane earnest, wistful, wondering, questioning, loving gaze. Now, tell me, love, can you .recall your feelings - at that moment—can you tell me why you looked at me with such a searching eager, fond look?" "Yes—yes, lady yes, clear mama, I knows" said the maiden, gravely, almost solemnly. ` Whr wns it, then " asked the lady, be d -ii , 47 s her to press;. a kiss upon he^ -,F sil• `ad. "Swt,•inother I it was because I half recognized you!" "Half recognised Mie?" "Yes, clearest mamma." "Horn is that? What does my sweet one mean?" "Our life is two -fold --sleep sleuth its own world,' says falconer's favorite poet. And in the world of sleep, mam- ma,. you were never absent from nae. 1 suppose I must have continued to dream of you from the day I was taken from you, for as far back as 1 can remember I have been used to your image in any dream's. It was such an habitual thing that I never wonderers at it, or talked of it. And yet, 1 seemed to know that the angel of my sleep was my mother, too; only•I thought it was my mother wdro was• buried in the sea.. And when I first saw your portrait in the hall and recognized its; likeness to my dream - mother, oh! what a thrill it gave me! And then when I saw you in the Sun- day school, and you looked at me, and took my hand, and spoke to me so sweetly ---oh ! I cannot tell you ! but if you could only have read my heart! And first I loved you for your likeness to any dream -mother, and then I loved you for yourself!" "So it was with nae, my own—first I loved you for looking at me with little Maud's eyes, and now 1 love you for your sweet self. And now all the past seems bridged over, and I seem to have lost you really. And now, love, I trust , you will be happy. Come, now, your fa- ther has got through with his newspap- ers, and I hear him walking up and down the hall. Let us go to him." And again embracing her new-found treasure, the lady arose, and, followved by the maiden, led the way downstairs. Daniel hunter was pacing up and clown the long, central ]rail—a usual relaxa- tion with him after sitting long aver his papers. lie turned with a smile to meet then, and playfully offered an arm to each fur an indoor promenade, he sand. They had 'not made many turns before there was a ring at the front door -bell, and the servant who answered it return- ed and brought a letter, wich, he said, wins for the young lady. Daniel Hunter took it with the design of passing it im- mediately to his daughter, but in doing so his eyes fell upon the strange super- scription, "To Min. Falconer O'Leary." 'Isis brow reddened with a look of sur- prise, displeasure and annoyance;.. and returning it to the servant, he said: "There is no one here who bears the name upon this letter. There is.proba- bly a mistake—take it back to the par- son who brought it," aural without even condescending to inquire who that "Iii'r- son wlio brought it" might be., Daniel Hunter turned upon his heel and -contin- ued his walk. The servant bowed and left the hall. And Isar, Hunter had Scarcely taken a second turn before the servant re-entered with the letter, say- 1n"11 you please, sir, the messenger who *ought this letter is Young Len, .11Mz. alconer O'Leary's man, end he safe there is no misteko, and that it was nt to hiy young mistress.'' - ' 'OTe,leoner!" said Maua1, impullsively b they had riot spoken a word to each se other. Marvelous case of too Oorngao which shows that "skin diseases here- tofore considered hopeless can be cured, Since childhood, Leo Corrigan had been tortured with the burning agony and itching of Eczema. His parents had spent a great deal of money in con- suiting physicians and buying medicines —but all to no purpose. As he grew older he sought other doctors—some of them specialists. He was eleven weeks in a Toronto hospital— eight weeks in bed. At times the irri- tation and pain caused by the Eczema were so severe, life was a burden. He would get so bad he could not walk. Several winters he could do no wtaek. He wrote, on February 20, X906; "In November, r9os, I had another attack', and was advised to use Mire Ointment. (E thought this would be like the other remedie>! /had tried, and of no use to me). But, to my great delight, a few hours after the first application, I felt great relief. I have use& it, now, two and a -half months, and unhesitatingly state that it is the best remedy I ever used. It has worked wonders for me. Since using Mira Ointment I Para been able to work every day—without irritation or pain—no stiffness of the limbs or soreness, i feel a new person. From a state of great irritation and some- times excruciating pains to freedom from all such, being capable of doing bard work every day, is a marvelous change. Mira Ointment has effected it "I strongly recommend any person eMicted with this terrible complaint—Eczema—to axes Mira Ointment," What this wonderfully effective Oint- ment has done is this extreme chronic case, it can do in other seemingly incur- able conditions. If you suffer from any form of skin -disease, don't delay. Certain relief and cure is waiting you in Mira Ointment. Get a box to -day, goc. —6 for $2.3o. At drug-stores—or from The Chemists' Co, of Canada, Ltd., Hamilton --Toronto. is TRADE MARK RSt1STERED. dropping her father's arm, and going and taking the letter from the servant. "Give me that letter, ray dear," said Daniel Hunter, reaching forward his hand to take it from her. "Oh, sir—my father! it is from Fal- coner," said Maud, detaining it with a pleading look. "Have you glanced at the inscription of that letter, my dear?" "No, sir." "Read it, then, and tell me if you an- swer to such a name." LTo be continued.) The White Man's Duty to the Negro. Yor will find no Johann Most, Emma Goldman, Czolgosz or Gulteau among the neg: oes. In the struggle which may be expected to come between order and an- archy may it not be that these people, grateful to the nation for their liberty and to the good people of the land for their uplift in knowledge, purity and social standing, will prove themselves a mighty force upholding law, order and supremacy of the nation? Stranger things have happened than that these people., crushed and wronged for genera-• tions, should become at last strong de- ft r ders of the nation and the communi- ty at wnose hands they have hitherto received mainly injustice. They are here as citizens. Whatever temporary re- 1. atrietions may be placed upon their ap- proach to the ballot box, the time will conic when all barriers will be broken down and they will enjoy everywhere the full 'rights of citizenship. But ig- norant citizens are the prey and the sport 'of every demagogue who appeals to their -passions, and if one -ninth • of our citizens are so exposed the whole life of the nation 'is in peril. So we standd_ before the : American people and say, Here is one -ninth of our population coming out from the ignorance and im- morality of slavery. We are making its uplift 'bur -business: We are striving to train the hand and the mind and 0. 1111 the heart with a love of purity and a senna of the beauty' of holiness. As we aro faithful in this work we feel that we make a strong appeitl to the nation's assistance and gratitude, and we: know that we shall hear our Master's voice: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 'least of threw my brethren, ye have done it unto mc." ---Justice David J. Brewer in Leslie's Weekly. - - •