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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1908-08-28, Page 3, Was there any hidden meaning in the - fellow's rigmarole, or had.he, Sir Jordan, been unreasonably suspicious? "Pooh! there's nothing in it. Banks has got off with the notes, the will's de- stroyed, and I am safe." He repeated his assurance with still greater confidence and comfort later on in the day, wnen the evening grew on, and no Banks had appeared, and with something like a light heart he sent a telegram to Audrey, saying that he .should return to London next day. CHAPTER XXIX. Audrey did not cry at the back of the box as she told Sylvia she ,should, but sat in front as usual, and smiled ac- knowledgments of the bows of her friends and acquaintances in the other boxes and stalls. So fashionable and well-known a lady as Miss Audrey Hope cannot wear her .heart upon her sleeve for Jaws to peck at, and so she sat there, looking, if a little pale and a wee bit tired, as lovely as usual, and no one in front of the foot- lights guessed how her heart ached, and how she wished that she had never said the fatal "Yes" to Jordan Lynne. or that Lord Lorrimore had come back a few weeks earlier, or—or that she had never been born. She had received a letter from Jordan urging an early marriage, but to this she sent no reply, and her silence, as we have seen, had considerably irritated that personage. Thus matters stood, Audrey in deep mistress, fearing a visit from Sir Jordan, and constantly upbraiding herself for her haste in entering into an engagement with him. Three days elapsed, and on the even- ing of the fourth she called on Sylvia, Did you think I was dead, or what?" said Audrey, as the two girls embraced, and Sylvia, with her arms still round her, led her into the sitting -room. "I didn't know," said Sylvia, and she scanned her face anxiously. There was a hectic flush on Audrey's cheeks and a wistful, restless look he her dark eyes which she averted from Sylvia's loving scrutiny; but she smiled and even laughed, "I—I have been busy," she said, evas- ively, "How is Mercy?" "Rather better," said. Sylvia, "She seems stronger to -day, and more cheer- ful. If she had not been I should have insisted upon, sending for the doctor;; but she is really better) "I'm glad of that,'- said Audrey, "for my sake as well as hers- Sylvia, youdo net sing after to -night,• for a week?'" "No," said Sylvia, wondering what was coming; "not for five nights. Isn't it splendid to have to long a holiday?" • "Yes," , said Audrey, adding quickly, almost peremptorily, "and I want yonu to spend it with me. Not here in Lon- don, but in the country " "In the country! How delightful! Where are you going?" "To my house, the Grange, at Lynne," replied Audrey. "To your house!" "Yes," went.. on Audrey, speaking hur- riedly. "I.—they say at home that I want a change, a little rest, you know. I'm tired of going out night after night, and so-so I said I would go down to the Grange. They—Lord. and Lady Mar- low—wanted me to go to the seaside, but I hate the seaside. It is quiet I want, if I -want anything, and a spell of quiet won't do you any harm, Signorina Stel- la.. We must go to -morrow," she went on. "Lord Marlow has telegraphed down to the servants to have things ready for us, and he will come down with us, if not to stay. Say you will come, Sylvia. ••1 want to show you the old house in which I was born and which I love .so dearly. We can wander about the lanes, and—and—there will be nobody to plague us." "Sir Jordan -will he not be there?" said Sylvia. Audrey's face flushed. In her pocket was the telegram announcing Jordan's return to London on the morrow. She had shown it to no one, not even to Lady Marlow, or perhaps her ladyship would not have given her consent to this sudden rush off to the Grange. "Sir—Sir Jordan will not be there!" she said, looking away. "He will have to be in town and—and—busy; but don't let us talk of him, or anyone else but ourselves. We won't mention him—or any one • connected with—with London while we are down there. We'll just be two school girls out for a holiday, shall we, Sylvia." "We wil]i Let us swear it!" respond- ed Sylvia, gaily, and, lifting Audrey's band heavenward in the approved thea- trical fashion. "Oh, but I forgot Mercy. I don't know whether she will come, S and I could not leave her, Audrey." Mercy entered at that moment, and, bowing to Miss Hope, was about to re- treat when Audrey stopped her. "Don't you. think Sylvia would be all the better for a breath of pure country air, Mercy?" she said. Mercy looked from one.to the other. "Yes," she said. "And I am sure you would," said Audrey; gently. "So that settles it. We three are going to my house in the country, Mercy." "And to -morrow!" cried Sylvia. Mercy's eyes dropped. "You must let me stay at home and take care of the house, please," she said in a low voice. "Nonsense!" said Sylvia. "Now, don't be contrary, Mercy dear! It is you who want the change as badly as any of us. Think of five days in the country, and what a long time it is since we have seen it. Now, Mercy---" Mercy shook her head. "It is very kind of Mise Hope, " she faltered; "but I would. rather---" "You would rather I stayed cooped up in this wretched London, in this lovely weather, too," said Sylvia. "I will not go without you!" "And I will not go without Sylvia," put in Audrey, resolutely. Mercy stood, a troubled expression on her pale face, which was usually so im- passive. "Must I go " she said, in so low a voice that they could scarcely hear her. "Yes, you must!" said Sylvia. "I know exactly how you feel—" Mercy started slightly- and her eyes sought Sylvia's face for a moment with a half -frightened glance. "You feel as if you would rather do anything than move from your own rooms, and that just proven how badly you want a change. There we are two to one. And as you know, one of the two is .the most wilful and obstinate of be- ings, so that you are bound to give in" Mercy did not smile but looked straight before her. "1f I must go," she said, as if the words cost her an effort. Sylvia clapped her hands and sprang up and kissed her. "Hurray! Go and get ready, you mar- tyr. Ox3ee you have begun to walk you will feel more resigned. to your cruel fate!" • Mercy did nott-respond to this loving banter, but silently left the room. But when she had reached her own she did not eonimence to pack immediately; in- stead, she threw herself on her knees be- side the bed and hid her faoe in her hands. Then after a while she rose, and with a white face and tightly -set lips be- gan to make preparations for the jour- ney. Her face wore this constrained look of resolute repression when the party start- ed the nett morning. It was a lovely day, and Sylvia felt unusually bright -heart - grumble at having to leave his beloved rubber at whist at his favorite club, "'Pon my word," he said, "I feel like a schoolmistress taking her favorite pupils out for a holiday! Signorina, Have you brought your skipping rope and hoop?' And when they had left hot and stif- ling London some miles bellied them, Audrey seemed to throw off the lassi- tude and weariness which had oppressed her, and the three talked and laughed happily, while Mercy, with her eyes clos- ed, if she were not actually asleep, sat silent in her corner. The Grange carriage was waiting for them at the station, and Audrey grew still brighter as she pointed out the familiar places to Sylvia, who leaned for- ward at the window, eager to be inter- ested in everything and every spot con- nected with Audrey. Presently they came in sight of one of the Court lodges, and Sylvia naturally asked; "What place is that, Audrey?" And she did • not notiee the sudden clouding of her friend's face as she re- plied: "Ltvnne Court. We shall • soon be home now, Sylvia," she added, quickly, as if to avoid any further question re- specting the place they were passing, and as the carriage entered the avenue and the Grange came in sight, she said: "And here we are." An exclamation of delight and admir- ation broke from Sylvia. "How lovely! Oh, .dear, and she laughed with mock awe. "I had no idea la.e1ere t seeCiii+d.al lyd4':t.,: rain Fate and Tarred hiOreves Y eid tea lila a natural food and with milk or cream and fresh fruits is an ideal diet in warm weather. BRINGS THE GLOW OF HEALTH TO WAN CHEEKS. SOLD BY ALL GROCERS, until now that you. were such a great lady! I wonder how ;;:•Must feel to be the mistress of all this!" And she laughed. Audrey laughed, too, but the laugh ib'U away inti a sigh. T1i carriage drew up at.the door, at w1:iel: a row of servants in livery stood. welting with a real welcome for their ml::tress, and Audrey, catching some. thing of Sylvia's ' eagerness, took her hand and said: "Come and let nee show you your rooms. Yes, that's the hall, but I will show you everything "But not until after dinner, I devout- ly hope!" exclaimed the viscount, who had enjoyed the journey down immense- ly. "No keeping the dinner waiting, young ladies, or .I'll take you back to school. Oh, by the way, I didn't tele- graph to Jordan Audrey, but I suppose you did, and that he will come over from the Court to dinner—eh?" "He is in London,". said Audrey, her manner growing cold instantly. "Eh? .How's that? demanded the viscount; but Audrey had run off with Sylvia, and did not appear to have heard the question. Sylvia looked round the dainty rooms which, although the notice of their com- ing had been so short, seemed to have Veen prepared for her for weeks, and appeared to contain every conceivable ;usury the most exacting of ladies could desire; looked round with a sigh of ad- miration which grew into an exclamation of delight as• she ran to the window. "Oh, how can you ever leave this para- dise for that awful . London!" she ex- claimed, "This makes me long for our little cottage in the country more keen- ly than ever; doesn't it you, Mercy?" Mercy smiled sadly as she bent over the portmanteau which a maid was help- ing her to unpack. "Audrey, you must show me every- thing mind! All the places you used to play in when you were a girl, all the things and animals you love. I shall want to see them all, that 1 may per- suade myself that I have known you for a few years instead of a few weeks. Din- ner! What a shame it is that one must spend time in eating and drinking when there is so much .;to do and only five days to do it in." Audrey's dressing room adjoined that given to Sylvia, and. the two girls talk- ed through the open door as they chang- ed their clothes, and as they had insisted upon Mercy's going at once to her own room to rest, Audrey was constantly running in to Sylvia with offers to help, offers which Sylvia refused laughingly. "My dear Audrey, I have not been the mistress of a moated grange and aecus- tomed to lady's maids and dames of honor. I can dress myself. Why, one time I scarcely had anything to dress in!" she added, brightly. The dinner gong sounded, and the voice of the viscount came up the great stairs, shouting blithely but waringly, "Now, you girls!" and they went down. As they , passed along the corridor Sylvia, who wantcl to look everywhere at once, Jl' nc ee.'through an open door into .t l.. me : room in which she caught sia'xt r a 'huge rock- ing horse, a doll's house and smaller toys, That was my playroom," said Audrey. "Oh, how happy 1 was then:" "1 must have a ride on that horse," said Sylvia, determinedly. Audrey smiled. "I have gone many a hunt on him, and been thrown off scores of times when Neville rocked him too fast, by accident —on purpose. We used to play together in that room; there is scarcely a place 1 shall show you in which he and I have not spent, oh, such happy hours. Poor Neville!" And she sighed. But Sylvia would not permit any sigh- ing, for that night, at any rate, and the dinner with these two lovely girls was, so the viscount deelared often afterward, one of the happiest he had ever eaten. He was so happy that he did not even regret the absence of the Right Hon, Sir Jordan, and Audrey herself did not seem to miss her lover. After dinner the girls went into the great drawing -room, the splendor of which would have struck Sylvia with amazed delight, if she had not been so accustomed to splendor on the stage, and the viscount joined them after a very short interval. "Is there any clause in your agree- ments, signorina, forbidding you to play the nightingale for your friends' de, light?" he sand. "If there were I would ,break it and pay forfeit!" responded Sylvia, and she drew Audrey to the piano,• ; and in a moment or two the exquisite voice was filling the room and floating through the open windows. "What a lovely creature, and what a voice!" exclaimed the viscount to him- self. IIe did not see that Audrey's eyes were filled with tears. A little while before this Trale rushed into Mrs. Parsons, nearly startling .that good lady out of life, and tensing Neville to spring from his chair with an exclam- ation. He had placed himself in Trale's hands, and, following his directions, was stiil at the cottage, though consumed with an almost intolerable desire to be doing something. "What is it now?" he dananded, eag- erly. "Have you got the scoundrel?" "No; but it's all right►" said Trale, drawing Neville outside, "And Sir Jor- dan's gone now--. " "Gone!" echoed Neville, fiercely. "It's all right, I say' die's only gone to London, and a man 1 can trust is in the same train with him, and won't lose sight of him. It's not that I've eorne to tell you, though,. bliss Audrey's here!" "Miss Audrey here?" And Neville's"face flushed. "lies, at the Grange. She came down this evening with Lord Marlow and a lady friend." "Audrey here!" murmured Neviilo: "end engaled,to, that—that villain! And ehe knows nothing. I roust go to her, She mast ire told-----" And he took a step or two in the direc- tion of the (:,range. 'lx•:ale caught him by the firm. „!Don't do anything rash, Mr, Neville," he said. "It isn't the time yet, You leave It to mc,". • •'•I3ut I must see her. man, I rnnet ice her!". he broke out, passionately, "I won't Sneak to her --she shall not see me -•-but I must see her.. Little Audrey! my dear little Audrey!" Trale saw that it was of no use to ar- gue with hint, • "All right, sir," he said, "I can under- stand; and it's only natural. Come along then. We'll manage to get a sight of her. But, Mr. Neville, you won't epoil the whole thing by doing anything rash?" But Neville had got his hat and was already striding off to the Grange. The two men reached the house, and in the dusk made their way to the orna- mental gardens, and eauti•ously crept up to the terrace. Here, however, Trate seized Neville's arm. "No farther, sir, please!" he said. "The windows are open; some one might come out at any moment. You'll be seen and all my plans will be spoiled," Neville shook him off, but stopped ir- resolutely. "Perhaps—perhaps she ,nay come out on the terrace!" he said, and ho stood and gazed longingly at the lighted. win- dows. At that moment there rose a woman's vcice singing the "Ah, ehe la more," with a power and sweetness that start- led and thrilled even the practical Trate, "Whew! But that's fine, Mr. Neville," he whispered. Ile got no further, for suddenly Nev- ille uttered a cry, a terrible cry of in- tense amazeemnt. "My God!" he gasped, clutching Trale, and shaking in every limb. "Whose voice is that?" CHAPTER XXX. Well might Trale stare at Neville with surprise and alarm. The great strong man was trembling like a leaf; the perspiration stood in big drops upon his forehead. "Good Lord, Mr.. Neville, what is it?" demanded Trale. Neville looked at him vacantly. "That voice! Don't you hear?". he said, "Yes, beautiful, isn't it?" said Trale. "That's the great opera singer all Lon- don is mad about" "What? No! That is Sylvia's voice! I should know it among a thousand. It is hers; let me go!" for Trate had got hold of him, half fearful that he had taken leave of his senses. "No, no, Mr. Neville, you're mistaken; indeed you are!" he said. "The lady who's singing is the great opera singer, that all London's mad about. Her name's Signorina Stella." "It is not!" said poor Neville, fiercely. "It is—it is a lady—oh!" and he put his hand to his head. "Am I dreaming? Sylvia here! So near! !told on, Trale; I'm not mad, as you think. I tell you that the lady you hear is an old friend. We've been parted, and---" ' He could not go on, for the 'voice still floating- out to than confused him with a commingling of exquisite pain and joy. "Steady, Mr. Neville; I'm sure you're n'i-taken,' said Trale, soothingly. "I had the whole particulars of the party from one of the servants. It is the oiler•• singer, indeed;. indeed it is. 11 you know her Jr know nothing of 'her." broke in -Neville,• with agitation. "1 only know the lady' who is: singing in there," and he pointed to the drawing hoorn. "I've heard her vole:: too often not to know it. It's the dearest, sweetest voice in all the world to ore. Let me go, Trale!" Then he stopped of his own accord— for Trale could not have held him—and groaned. "My (god! I forget''-" he said. "I can't go yet. She thinks I'm dead; the shock would kill her." At this Trale was eonvinced that he had to deal with a madman. "Thinks you dead, Mr. •Neville!" he said, soothingly. . "Yes," said. Neville, sinking on to a seat and resting his head on his hands. "I can't tell you all, Trale, but 1 can tell you this much; that I love her, have loved her dearly, with all my heart, and that we were parted out there in Australia. She thought xne dead, saw me killed, as she thought, poor girl, and I thought it •best for her to think so - I see now what a heartless fool I was in doing so! But it's not too late!" and he half rose, to sink down again ir- resolutely. "Some one roust break the truth to her, the news that 1 am alive. You must do it, Trate." Trate looked anything but comfort- able. "I go in there, sir!" he said. "Lord, I couldn't, The viscount • would be mad" "You must do it gently, Trate," Nev- ille went on, as if lie had not heard. him. "She has the kindest heart, and—and the shock— Listen! There! Oh, 1 little thought I should he er her so soon, that I should be so near her," and he looped wistfully, hungrily, toward the wig doves, -'rale stood beside hint, syrlpathethic, but terribly perplexed. "Won't you wait until to -morrow? Write to her, Mr. Neville," he suggested, feebly. Neville laughed grimly. Wait till to -morrow! No! Not an- other hour! What! After all these months of miserable and wretched long- ing for herl Ha! ha!" Trale became frightened. (To be contrnned.) .On the Wrong Track. "Shadbolt, 1 left my money in my other clothes this morning, and—" "Otherwise you would have brought it along and paid a small part of what you owe ore. Don't let that happen again, Dingus. Good day." e•e The flatterer is yniways sure of an audit- encs. BUSINESS GIRLS LOSE STRENGTH They Risk Health Rather Than Lose Employment and Eventually Break Down. Thousands of earnest intelligent young women who earn their /even - hood away from home in public of flees, and large ibusiness establishments are silent suffering victims of overtaxed nerves and deficiency of strength. Weak, breathless and nervous they work against time, iyith never a rest when headaches and ' backaches make every hour like a 4y. Little wander their cheeks lose the tint of health and grow pale and thin; their eyes are dull and shrunken and beauty slowly but surely fades. Business girls and women, be- cause of their work and worry, look old- er than their years. What they seriously need is the frequent help of a true strengthening remedy to carry them through the day. Dr. Williams' Pink Pills axe like actual food to the starv- ed nerves and tired. brain of the busi- ness girl, By making rich, red blood they supply just the kind e' Whelp that girls need to preserve their nosing and their good looks. They bring• bright eyes, high spirits and thus make the day's duties lighter, Miss Alexandrine Bedard, a steno- grapher, residing at 30 Richelieu street, Quebec, says: "For the pas;£ couple of years I felt my constitution being grad- ually undermined through:eonstant in- door work, and the great tax on my nerves through the long tedious hours over a typewriter. But it was only some six months ago -het the climax came when one afternoon I lost consciousness through extreme weakness. The real ser- icusness of my condition was then pa- thetically apparent, as I was confined to my room, lacking even the strength to walk abcut. I was attended by a doc- tor, but after being a nxonth under his care showed no signs of improvement. It was at this stage that one of my rela- tives read of the cure of a young girl whose case bore a striking resembiacce to my own, by the use of Dr. Williams' Pink Pills, I began the use of these Pills the next day, and I attribute my nom- plete recovery entirely to them. I had not taken more than three boxes when I began to get better, and after taking the pills for about a month I felt as strong and was enjoying as good health as ever in niy life," You can get Die Williams' Pink Pills from any medicine dealer or by mail at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2,50 from The Dr. Williams' Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont. -o How Advertising Pays. That advertising is the greatest, force in the industrial life of a nation is amply proved by the fact that :a,layger amount of money is invested annually in it than in any other field of effort. A thousand million dollars a year is expended in ad- vertising, a vast sum which equals 1 per cent. of the entire wealth of the nation and approximates the value of all the imports of the country. This enormous mount is spent for spaces in newspapers and magazines, for circulars, posters, signs, novelties and in the many other 'channels through which the news of the business world is brought before the public. This great investment of capital sells over $15,000,000,000 worth of the pro- ducts of the nation's industrial efforts. Last year there were approximately 220,000 manufacturers in the country, with the total capitulation in round numbers of $14,000,000.000. The sales resulting from the extensive advertising campaigns of these manufacturers pro- duced areturn to these rnanufaeturers of more than $15,000,000,000. Compared with the expenses incurred by the pro- ducers to reach the consumer—which is slightly in excess of $1,000,000,000—the cost of accomplishing the sale of the vast amount of goods produced approx- imated 7 per cent.—Van Norden Maga- zine. s Your druggist, .grocer, or general store- keeper will supply you with Wilson's Fly Pada, and you cannot afford to be without them. Avoid unsatisfactory sub- stitutes. 4 t, A Billion for Advertising. More money is expended in advertis- ing than in any other field of human effort, According to a computation made by the Van Norden Magazine the total investment in all forms of publici- ty has grown to a thousand million dol- lars per annum—a sum which equals 1 per cent., of the entire wealth of the nation, and approximates the value of all the imports of the country. "This great investment of capital," says the authority cited above, sells over $15,- 000,000,000 worth of the products of the nation's industrial efforts." Fortune doesn't smile on us without some encouragement.