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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1908-01-03, Page 3immammxxxammxxxxxxlmaxamx0 and ase Ne AVIf►VXX,Bi XXXrt'41XXX,it'UXXXXXXXIMNd` "And now, dearest Falooner, play- mate, brother, lover to me for so many years—and always .and forever_ dearest to my heart—much as 1 love you—and only Heaven knows how much, and only •time can prove how faithfully—I cannot esrry on a secret correspondence with you; it is but just to tell you, that every letter you write, however secretly it may reach me, must first go into my father's hands before I read it. It must be eo, dearest Falconer! I should have no hone for our Iove, because I could not pray the Lord's blessing on us, if I failed in my duty to niy dear, noble, trusting father. Re trusts me, Falconer, and therefore, you know, it is impossible for me to deceive him. The letter that you sent me this morning i laid before him with its seal unbroken. And with the seal still unbroken, he gave it back into my hand, and left me free to read and reply to it as I pleased. And though he exacted no promise, dropped no kind of a wish to see my answer, this answer must be laid before him for perusal be- fore it is sent to you. He did not read your letter that I placed in your hands; he may not read this, my reply; but he must have the opportunity of doing so. My father trusts me, and I would not deceive him to win my heart's dearest - wish." Maud finished her letter as she had eammenced it, with the most earnest as- surances of affection and fidelity. And then she sat a little while in reverie, before folding and addressing it. And while sho sat so, she heard a gentle rap at the door, and thinking it was Susan come to put more coal on the fire, she said: "Como in." But when the door opened, it was Mrs. Hunter who .entered, "Now, my dear mother, was it you? Did you rap before coming into your child's room'?" said Maud, with a tender regret in her tone, as she arose and met and embraced the lady. "You are a sensitive little creature, Maud—a degree more and you would be a morbid one." "Ah, but sweet mother, don't rap at my door like a stranger, again. Colne in at any hour of the day or .night without rapping," said' Maud, with a pleading earnestness that' made the lady smile, as she drew the girl to the sofa, and kites . at down together: but', she an - ""f Jwerod "I think, niy clear Maud, it is best to carry the courtesies of life into the most intimate and.endearing relations; it will not make them less loving and tender, but more so. My dear child must have her privacy and her freedom in her father's house. And, besides, she came to her chamber to read and answer a letter." "Yes, mamma, and I have been a long time about it, have I not? But it was such a long letter, and required such a long answer." "And you have finished it?" "Yes, mamma." "I supposed you had, when I came. you may get ready to ride with Honoria. And. now, my love, if you are disposed, Your• ponies will be at the door in half an hour." "And will you read my -answer to Fal- coner while I am getting ready, mam- ma?'" "Shall I, niy dear?" "Oh, mamma!" said Maud, embracing her, and petting her letter in her hand. And while the lady read it, Maud ehanged her slippers for a pair of gaiters, put . on her riding habit, arranged her hair, and tied on the. little hat, and drew on her gloves, and then stood waiting a few minutes. Mrs. Hunter finished her letter, and held it on her lap, and sat looking at it with the tears welling up in her darn eyes. Maud came up behind her, and with her hand on her shoulder, and her lips on her cheek whispered: "Will it do, mother?" "Yes, my love." "You see I was between Scylla and Charybdis, with that letter, mother. 1 did not wish to wrong my dear father's confidence, or to wound and distress my dear Falconer:' • "Your good, true instincts have guided you safely between the two, my love." "Is it all right, then, mamma?" "All right, my darling." "And there is nothing to alter?" "Nothing—nothing, my love." "Why are the tears in your yes, sweet mother?" "For joy, and for sorrow, Maud—for joy in my child's goodness and truth for sorrow at her grief. But never mind," said the lady, smiling, "a little trial will not hurt my girl at her age it will do her good." CHAPTER XAVI. Maud joined the riding party, who made a circuit of the Barrier, and re- turned only in time to dress for dinner. The afternoon and evening were, as usual, spent in the fireside recreations of music, reading and conversation, so that the maiden found no proper oppor- tunity of laying her reply to Falconer's Ietter before her father until the next. morning, when, as was his custom imme- diately after breakfast, he went to his' study to transact business. Maud soon after followed him thither, and there, as on the previous morning, she found both her parents sitting together at the writ- ing -table, with a diagram before them, and deep in consultation over a plan for a parsonage to be built at the Summit for Mr.. Lovel. And when indeed were Daniel Hunter and Augusta ever found deeply engaged, but in plans for the well-being of others? So softly had Maud entered that they were' in- sensible of .her presence, until she ap- proached the table —then both looked around and smilingly held out their hands to draw her in between them. Then Maud put her letter in her father's hands but before the could withdraw her own hand, Daniel Hunter closed her fingers over her letter, and pert it from him, smilingly saying: "I have perfect confidence in my child -and I do not need to rend her corres- pondence." Maud blushed with pleitsurc and the tears sprang to her eyes and . at that moment she felt that she would not wrong his confidence for a kingdom— forher lover;—for anything; under hea- ven. '• • "But you will seal raid' send it for me, father?" father?" she asked, smilingly. "Yes, my love, if you wish—]ay it on the table." Maud laid her. letter douvn, and tune ed to retire, but with a lingering look that her father sag' and understood, and answered, by saying: "You needn't go, niy dear, unless you wish. Here, take my place, and see if you can assist your mother by suggest- ing any improvement in that portico of the parsonage." And he arose from his seat and gent- ly placed his daughter in it. And then he went and drew a chair up to the op. pceite side of the table and sat dor and tools a sheet of paper to end Maud's letter, with a few lines from h self to Falconer. He wrote: "1 transmit to.you my dear girl's 1 ter and approve and indorse all she 1 wirtten and promised. Will. you n strive to merit and win thin good g You' are too chivalric, I am sure, coo to wish to snatch a prize you have 1 earned. Consider rue your not eas alienated friend." And then he rang for a messenger, whom he gave the letter, with ord to take it at once to Silver Creek. And this letter was carried to Fah er. But the hot-headed, self•uvilled, p sionate boy, so recently and so uns pectedly bereaved of his idol and darling; with his borne desolate, heart still bleeding from its ruptu ties, his blood on fire with love and gr and fear and rage—like a young ti suddenly spoiled of his mat, was in mood truly to appreciate the noble fidonce •and generosity of the father, the beautiful, filial piety of the dangle ter. His love, besides, was too .fierce and jealous in its exclusiveness to endure the thought of any interference between diene. especially that of her 'father, of Daniel Hunter, whom, frees', the bottom of his heart, he hated and detested, as the stern, unsparing despot who was tlw cause of his family's fall. And'to this in- sane and obstinate piece of arose,, in- justice was -added the fatal. ssl d1eeep- tion with which he persuaded liii self, of the validity of his claim to 'Mutt, and consequently of the supposed damp e deal- ing and fraudulent pollcy of he then, Ho deigned no answer wbatter a w Mr, Hunters* letter, which he stilt netized as an insolent attempt to patronize him. But to Maud he wrote a f ierce.. eeathing reply. For so diel rage and. jealousy war in his heart with love that'. he would almost as willingly have strangled as em- braced the maiden, had she :been'in bis power. • Hca sent that preciene testimon- ial of hie affection for her, ami 'then af- ter a little while, when it was gone •be- yond• recall=when he felt certain that it was In her hands, and that she was weeping over it—his mood'eliateed, and he could have thrust his band: into the fire and burnt it off, for having written it. And he felt as if he would have siva en his life to have recalled it. He strode up and down the floor, and `called him- self an idiot! a madman! 'n.devil I a beast! a combination of all four. "And ha wished that somebody would have the kieulnese to blow his, desperate brains out. And then be sat down and wrote sheet after sheet with, paselenate peni- tence, and then, disgusted with his work tore them to pieces, and threw them into the fire. and rushed from • the house and fled up the mountain -side to hurl himself and lose hie agony amid the aw- ful solitudes of nature. It -was late .in the night when he returned,. calm be- cause. wearied, and 'be sat up till morn- ing to write to Maud. And this letter satisfied him and he sent it. The young gird had just returned from her morning ride, when Little''Len over- took her. rode up :and placed- it in her hand. and having her father='s sanction now" she immediately retiredto her room to read it. It was even more impas- sioned, despairing, desperate, than first. TIe spoke eloquently of the awful, the stunning suddenness of the bereave - men t that had left his . heart and home and life desolate; he said that his house was intolerable, because he missed her from her old place at he fireside: "Your little sewing chair and work basket almost break my heart. And your chamber—it was i suicidal thing to do, and I found it so—but I went into your chamber, and sew all your little things—your toilet table and glass, your bed, your chest of drawers --and on the floor your slippers that you used to wear about the house—everything to remind me of the loving little wife, so cruelly rifled from my bosom just as she was made my own! Was ever any art so ruthless—any suffering so mad- dening in the world? I tell you, Sylvia, I threw myself down upon the. chamber floor, over those two little sir es,� and 1 wept ,like a child, howlerSITO beast, and raved like a demon! Lie is worthless, and worse than worthiest, without you!—it is intolerable)—it.is a long. protracted torture, whose every pulse is a pang!—I cannot, and will net, endure it. I will, cast it 'off as,quickly as I would an 'oppressive burden! I can dic' for you, but I cannot live w' !s - out you." Farther down he wrote: "You are my wife in the sight of. heaven avid earth. I do not want any priest or arty jtgo to tells inc so -I know it. Arid .I,s our father knows it, else he never would take the temporizing course he does. You are my wife; and I love none on _.., _.. .,....N, 1...4. .... 400000 0.000=*O'i :*0000 A Boston sohcrdboy was tall, weak and sickly. His arms were soft and flabby. He didn't have a strong muscle in his entire body. The physician who had attended the family for thirty years prescribed Scoft'.5 Er's1sakn. NOW: To feel that boy's arm you would think he was apprenticed to blacksmith. ALL (DRUGGISTS; .500. AND $1.00. 0 G Lia 4044400.000000000"!''44400 'last appeal. Would slie come., he asked; 'would she come and restore him to. him- self? This was his last appeal, he re- peated, If she would listen to it; from the most wretched,' she would. render him the happiest being on earth! If she would not, then his home and neigh- borhood, grown hateful and intolerable, would be abandoned; he should sell all he possessed, and go off; ho knew not, bared not, lvherel to meet he knew not, eared not, what fate There, 40 had his Iife, his reason, his destiny here and hereafter, in ,her hands. Would alio sac. Alike hien? The bitterest tears that maiden had. ever shed were dropped upon his letter; but she was not for a Moment tempted tri eeerre from duty. She answered it pills-, but firmly; rens: ring hszn of her undying ai'feetion, but reiterating her resolution never to wrings her father's ecrfniei": e; and saying: "If 1 could do 115 ycu urge InP, Valeozner; if I could so forget what 1 owe to nzy parents; if I could so deceive and betray their trust, I should be forever ;tem:t ply of your eoufidence, and you should never trust ine More." And she ended her letter with the moat earneet assurance:; of her sympathy and affection for him, her faith in her duty, and her Hope in the future. This letter was also despatched. But days passed, and she received no answer to it, nor heard any news of the youth. :1t length, one morning, she received a passion- ate; sorrowful, .and bitterly accusa- tive letter from Falconer; telling her that he had disposed of all his posses- sions in Allegheny County, and had left the neighborhood, and bidding her fare- well forever ! This letter had been plac- ed in her hands by her maid, as soon as she was out of bed in the morning. She read it in a sort of mournful amaze- inent, and then asked Swan when it had been brought. Tier maid replied that Little I.en had brought it the ii.iglzt previous. after the family had re- tired, and that Len said his young mas- ter had that morning taken. the stage for Baltimore. In a sad bewilderment the maiden threw on her dressing -gown, and taking the letter with her. went to her parents' apartment. Arrived at the door, the rapped, and asked: "May I conte in. dear mother 1" "Yee, enter, my darling," answered the sweet r•oice of Mrs. Hunter. And Mand opened the dor, and passed into the chamber. ller father, in his dressing -gown and slippers, sat in an easy -chair before the fire, taking life "easy". Iter another. in her graceful morning wrapper, had arisen to meet her, with a smile of affeetionate wel- come; but something in plaid's tone of voice, and something in her voice alarm- ed the lady, and she hastened forward and took her hand, exclaiming: "My dear child." Maud silently pressed her hand and carried it to her lips and held up Fal- coner's note to view, and then went on and handed it to her father.. Daniel Hunter first drew her to his bosom, and embraced her fondly, and then set her down upon his knees, and put bis arm around her waist, nubile he read tIre note. Mrs. Hunter stood behind him, and with her hand upon his shoulder leaned over and followed hire in the per- usal. '?Chen it was over, ho folded and returned it to Maud, saying, kindly: "Do not let this matter trouble you too much, my child. I have the will and the power to bring, good out of this. Trust in me, my child.." And pressing a kiss upon her brow, he ped her into the charge of her mo• dasseer. '1•5ifsei "I will go with you to your room, my love" mid the lady, taking her hand and lending her from the chambers atatlen they melted the maiden's room Mrs. Hunter drew her. daughter` within heli arms, and with a troubled and fore - bale; heart gazed upon her face. Two erirnsnn spots blazed upon . Maud's cheeks, her dark -blue eyes were preter- haturally dilated, and the purpled veins upon the snowy forehead and temples were full, distended and throbbing, "You are not well, my darling." "Yes, sweet mother." "But you are not; your flee is flush. ed your hea=p i$ so hot," she said, passing her h=ind over the burning fore. head; "your head is so hot" "It is only the headache, dear moth- er; I and apt to have the headache when anything --any trouble ---shock --- what was I saying? 011! save ore!" exclaim- ed the maiden, and slue reeled and fell. Mrs. Bunter raised and laid her on to bed, and rang violently for assist- ance. Miss Hunter's maid came hurrying in, and was hastily dispatched for Mr, Hun- ter, who speedily entered the chamber, to find his wife standing, wringing her hands, over the insensible form of their daughter. A physician was immediately sent for. And as soon as the intervening distance permitted, old Dr. Henry arrived, and was conducted to the bedside of the suf- ferer. He pronounced her illness a mild type of brain fever, superinduced by mental excitement. Yes! the sorrow and anxiety of the last few weeks—pati- ently as they had been borne, kindly' as they had been soothed—lead overcome the sensitive, finely tempered organiza- tion, and excitement reac]red its cl(ma c in fever. Her illness was not long or severe, and at no period of it was her life in danger. In two weeks she was able to sit up in an easy chair, or recline upon the low sofa, before her el:anrber fire. And Mrs. Ifunter, who had been her sole nurse during her illness, was ]ler con- stant coampanion in her convalescence. And these were pleasant Clays, and re-. minded the mother and daughter of a previous convaleseeneo of the latter, which she reverted to as being the sweetest reruiniscenee of the past. And while the young girl was thus gaining strength daily, Daniel Hunter made a journey to Baltimore, that took him from home for a week. And by the time he returned, his daughter was going about the house as usual. The morning after his arrival, he sent for Maud to come to him in his study. She wont and found prim sitting' in his leather chair, with Mis. Hunter near hire, ae usual. Indeed it was a rare thing to see theme apart; for the years that, passed over their heads but drew them the closer together—they were truly one—one in thought, affection and purpose. In early life, Mrs. Hunter held, es a matter of conscience, avoided taking airy part, In the statesman's piblitieal toils, eares ands anxieties, lest he should1 not afterward be able to enjoy that thorongh'rest and recreation in her society, which lre'other- The Cure for � x i umatiSm AJAX OIL is a blessing to Rheumatics. It is the one and only treatment that absolutely cures Inflam» matory a n d Muscular Rheumatism, Sciatica and Lumbago. Father O'Reilly, of Oakville, says : " I suffered for years with Rheumatism, but AJAX OIL fixed me up." 8 ounce bottle, $2.00. Sent on receipt of price by The Ajax Oil Co., Toronto, Ont. wise might have done. But as time pass- ed, Augusta had felt herself drawn ir- resistibly more and more into closer and closer companionship in all the man's, the philanthropist's, the statesman's irk terests thoughts, plans and purposes. And this closer anion made both hap- pier. Her mornings, whenever he need- ed her, or thought he needed her, were passed with Daniel Hunter in his study; and in the evenings, their labor and cares were forgotten in the family circle around the fire. But this by the way. (Te be continued.) WHAT ARE WATTS? A Question Apt to Puzzle All But the Expert in Electricity. In the world of electricity one bears a good deal about "watts," says the Washington Herald. The current is mea- sured by watts, the machinery is rated by watts, lamps by watts. The man to whoni we owe this symbol of power was John Watt, a Scotch in- ve4tpe, and when the electric unit, (p.- volving the idea of working caipacit', came to be formulated, the ;wee of Watt was chosen to indicate this unit just as the name of Volta gave tie the term volt, and Faraday, the farad. W eA considered that, taking the average, the London dray horse was capable of dpi.ai the work of lifting 33,000 pounds throw one foot of distance in one minutse time. This introducti=on of the Ulna limit, the minute, gave the unit of power or rate of performing work. This, or its equivalent, has ever since been called a horse -power. The electrical unit, called in terms of the htsrse-power, and in that form it is, perhaps, most intelligible to those Who are familiar with mechanical rather than with electrical expressions. The electrical watt is the product of volts, multiplied by amperes, where the volt is the unit of electrical pref;sure, and the ampere is the unit of measuring the density of volume of an electrical current. Experiments have demonstrat- ed that 746 watts per second are .equal to 860 foot pounds per second, or, to state the equation in its usual form, 746 watts equals one horse -power. The form in uvliicli electrical power is *amorallysold is computed on the basis of kilowatt hours. The prefix kilo conies from the (Greek Chilio, 1,000. A kilowatt is, there- fore, 1,000 watts. The kilowatt hour is tine performance of work at such a rate that 1,000 watts per second shall be de- livered continuously, for sixty seconds. And More in His Library, The two philosophers built houses side by side and their respective sons showed filial pride. "My father's a bigger man than your father," cried Christopher. "No, he isn't, either," . answered Wil- liann, jun. "My father's a professor:" "So's mine," said the son of the ex- perimental psychologist. "Well! my father's got more brains than yours has, anyway." "No, he hasn't, either," said William, - jun., "for my father's not only got his own brains, but a lot of other men's brains in bottles on his nnantelpiecei'-- Boston Herald. — ey oCr Greatest Consumption of Brass. According to the American Machinet the greatest single consumption of brass is for condenser tubes, a battleship alone having from 30,000 pounds to 40,000 pounds of condenser tubing in it; and, owing to the corrosive effect of sea water this tubing mist be continually replaced. The material used is usually either 11•Iuntz metal ---60 per cent, copper, 40 per. cent. zine—or else a mixture of copper, 70; zinc, 20, and tin, 1.