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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1908-10-09, Page 3The door opened eg he was speaking, and Sylvia, with Audrey,• who had gone after her, entered. They came up to the table, and Sylvia, very pale, laid tlhe packet in frgnt of the viscount. He took It with au ejaculation. "It's --it's— But We sealed, my dear. I'm to open it. Here, Neville, ,you open it:' Neville did so, and they gathered round him. He took up one of several pagers and read solemnly: I, Julian Cheater, declare these cer- tificates --being the marriage certificate of myself and wife, and the birth and baptismal certificates of my daughter, Sylvia Bond Chester—to be genuine, and 1 charge such person or persons into whose hands they may fall to preserve them.. I have nothing to leave my be- loved child, whom I consign to the care of her Heavenly Father, in humble trust and confidence that He will protect and succor her. (Signed), Julian Chester." Sylvia bid her face on Neville's breast. Trate was the first to speak, and his honest face was glowing with satisfac- tion and delight, "It's all right!" he exclaimed, using his favorite formula. "It's all right, Mr. Neville! Every one of them can be veri- fied—and her claim proved! Pm lawyer enough to know that! Take care of 'eat, my lord! Lock diem up! Hurrah—oh, I beg your ladyship's pardon," and in the very act of swinging his hat, he stopped, covered with confusion. "Don't apologize, Trale," exclaimed the viscount. "We all say hurrah! You're a good fellow, Trale! You've—you've managed this business splendidly, and— yes, you're far too good a man for a hole and corner place like this! Why"— and for the first time in his life the viscount swore before ladled—I you ought to be chief commissioner! You come with ine to the library and have a glass of wine! And you come, too, Ne- ville, 'when—when you can get away. Prove her claim! We'll do it if—as Jordan says—we spend every penny we've got!" Cee— ir1R LAST. Indeed, the viscount was a great deal more keen about Sylvia's fortune than Sylvia herself, You don't know how rich I am, sir!" she said to Neville, as they wandered through the lanes the next morning, and he showed all hie boyhood's playing grounds, as he had promised himself that he would, little dreaming how soon the delight of doing so would beeome pos- sible to him. I)o you know, Ja—Ne- vflie, what I earn in the course of an operatic season? Do you realize"—and she drew herself on tiptoe and looked at him with all the dignity slie could put into her expression --rand she was a good actress, as we know, "do you realize that the young person who stands before you is Signorina Stella, the celebrated prima donna, and that she can afford to lose five thousand a year—" Neville caught her as she stood on tiptoe and lilted her up in his strong aims until her waist was on a level with his face. "Put me down, sir! How dare you!" she cried, blushing furiously. . "Do you imagine that because a certain wildgirl called Sylvia allowed you to carry her about—the tomboy 1—that you can take such Iiberties with the Signorina Stella! Oh, put me down, dearest—some one will see us! Seriously, Neville," as he let her feat touch the ground again lightly, "we can do without this mons—" "I think not," said Neville, in his old style, that instantly recalled to Sylvia the kat in Lorn Hope, and Meth, and the claim. "The signorina will have to make her bow to the public----" "But, Jack! oh, how proud you are! You—you worked for me one time---" "And I'm perfectly willing to work for you now forayer,' he said. "What I object to is the mere idea of your work- ing for me. Resides," his face darkened, "there is such a thing as justice, though 1 believe `it's rather out of fashion to think so, and justice you shall have ' There was no mare to be said; in fact, they had something else to talk about, these two. But the viscount was not to be dis- auaded from fighting; indeed, he was eager to begin. And when they all, ex- cepting Mercy, returned to London, he went straight to a lawyer's, and in- strueted him to fire the first shot in the form of the usual letter. They, Audrey, Neville, and the Mar - lows, went to the opera on the night of their return to hear Sylvia sing; and her ladyship anticipated much • enjoy- ment in watching Neville's delight. But she was doomed to disappointment. He 14 e t Wa e he list e I g r ifteeleameseeeeelleseelleeeeleeeeleiteeleetro started when Sylvia came on; his face flushed when she began to sing; bu presently it grew pale, and his bro knit, and as the storm of applause brok out after her first important song, got up from the chair and Leaned agai the back of the box . Then he bent for ward to Lady Marlow. "I—I can't stand it any longer;' hgrowled: "It—it seems as if she be longed ,to all of them, and not to me. must go!" And out he went. Indy Marlow found him in the amok ing room when they came home, sittin wit]. a bilge cigar, and looking so mutt terably jealous and wretched that thaugh she meant to bully him, he heart melted. "You jealous boyl" she said. "I know—I know!" he assented, red- dening. "But I can't help it. All the time she was singing I was thinking of how she used to sit on the edge of the cinin" and sing to me—alone—you un- derstand—alone; and the sight of that crowded house sitting there as if they'd paid to hear her—and they had paid— dr avc me silly! Lady Marlow, she must leave the stage " "She's her own mistress, sir," "But she is going to be my wile—" "Well, then," she retorted, "then you will be her master, and in your present frame of mind the sooner " She stopped. But she bad said enough. .Ie sprang up. "Do you think --would she marry me at ones? How dare I ask her? I have- n't a penny " The door opened and Sylvia entered. She had caught his last words only. She stopped short and looked at him, She was in evening dress, radiant, lovely, all that a roan desires in woman. "Who says he has not a penny?" she said. "I—I," the poor fellow stammered. "I ma>• never get this confounded money. I—am a pauper, anyhow, at present." She glided up to him, and put both he: hands on his shoulders, and forced his eyes to meet hers full of love and adoration. "You forget!" she said, "Ah, Jack, yoe forget that you spent all when you bought me that night in Lore Hope Camp!" M' • * Y X They were married. How trite, how hackneyed is the sentence! And yet h r r much it means to a man and wo- man who loved as these two loved! They we're married in Lynne Church, quite quietly, "as a sensible man ought to be, without any fuss!" as the viscount, who gave. the bride away, declared. Ane one would be inclined to say that they were the happiest eouple in Lynne, but that Audrey was present as bridesmaid, an,1 Lorrimore as best man. Neville had sent him the wire the moment Sylvia had named the day. "Bi my best Haan," he said. "She," merning Audrey, "can't refuse to see you on our wedding day, and --well, weddings are as catching as measles." .As the happy pair were starting from the Grange on their wedding trip, and Sylvia had at last drawn her head into the carriage, from the window of which shi had been craning to catch the last glimpse of the group on the steps, she turned to Neville, who was busy dig- ging the rice out of his moustache and waistcoat, and with eyes over -brimming with happiness and laughter, said softly: "-.Aren't you sorry I'm not Miss Mary Brown, Jack?" "Mary Brown?" She clapped her hands. "Oh, you heartless man! forgotten her!" Then as she laughed and colored, she nestled up to him, and told him how stk.( had suffered from the green-eyed monster. You have "Yes! And you never saw it. Ah, Jack, you were blind! They say that love is always all on one side," she added, with a little quiver of the Lips. "Is it? Or do you love mea little, Jack? Are you glad you bought ine with that nugget, or do you think it was not such a bad bargain, after all?" And though he said not a word, she was satisfied with his answer. * * * e a They had left Mercy at the Grange at her owzr desire; and Sylvia had left her better than could have been expected, and with the understanding that Mercy, as soon as she was strong enough, should follow her to Bury street. But she did not do so. Instead of herself, there came a letter which Sylvia has shown to no one, not even to her bus - band, for in it, while telling her of her whereabouts, and her plans for the fu- ture, Mercy had enjoined her to silence.. "Let me pass out of your life, dear," she had written. "Even the sight of your dear face would only rouse the old pain and anguish. Do not even attempt to see me, for I think. that I could not bear to see you; judge, thenei ow little able I am to meet any one who knows me and my history." Sylvia understood, and obeyed the in• Iunction. But she thought of her, even during the ha.ppy morn in which the newler married bride is supposed to think of no one but her husband, They epent three months in wander. ing •almost hand in hand, certainly heart to heart -about the 'Continent, then returned to London, where their Mende eagerly awaitedd them; and,as .Audrey said, a 'second honeymoon be. gen. "`You've come in ,timefor all the 'best plays in the theetz•e," she raid. "And mamma is going to have a dined----" "And we are Net going t4 .terve a writ on the Right Hon. Sir eoedaul" put in the viscount, "I suppose yell Beet been >'o wrapped up in your twa ,sweet selves that you have forgotten rall Aleut your lawsuit," Neville colored, "b"Pori my word, that's about the `truth!" e said, ".Ah, well, I haven't!" said the vis- count. "I've been hard at work. It's go- ing to be a tough front; ieo reel! Jordan is game to the backbone. Ilii you ht read ? " his speech in tee .tin„' h.n. niry "No," grunted Neville. "1 read one once, and one.will do for zne." "It was splendid. It was indeed!" said the viscount. "He's a wonderful man; We a pity he's such a vii-I—I mean-" Neville turned away. "I'm not sure he won't beat us yet," went on Lord Marlow. "My men— I mean the lawyer—says that, arcehow. Jordan can keep up at it for montlie, perhaps years. You, see, he's everything, the estates, the money, his great mune, t his back. S�ho'd believe augh things a of him as we shall charge him withI" They sound incredible! And he -shows not au inch of white feather; a regular ovation in the House last night, they tell ine, and Jordan- calm and composed —as Pitt himself. A. wonderful mart If it wasn't that we've got Trate on our side --and, by the way, I've managed to get our friend promoted. His'''fortune's made." "I'm glad of that!" said Neville, heartily, "Yes. The good fellow's delighted with his rise; but he's just as keen about this case as ever. He's in London `working it up,' as he calls it; almost lives at the lawyers'. You'll be sure to see him to -morrow" But they saw him that evening. They were just going in to. dinnee, "the house party," as her ladyship- called it, for Lorrimore was there, when he was announced. He Dame inl coking rather pale and evidently agitated, and the viscount at once juin ed to the conclusion that some- thing had gone wrong with "theease." ""What is it, Trale?" he said. Neville shook his hand. "How do you da, Trale?" he said. "What's happened? How are you?" And he shook- the honest hand in bis frank, genial manner. Trate opened his lips twice before a sound would come, then he stammered( "There's—there's been an accident." "An accident!" "Yes. He was leaving the House to go to dinner, and—and—a cab corningaeross the bridge knoeked him down —and— and-the wheel went Over his head--=" "Whose head?" demanded the viscount. "Sir Jordan's," said Trale. "Jordan's!' Neville started. "erzere —where is he? I must go!" "At St. Thomas' Hospital," saidTrale. "1-1 saw him fall. I WAS going to male a last appeal to him—to tell hike chat he couldn't win— His voice faltered. y "Go Neville!" murruiu'ed Sylvia, ser i. ly"Yes, yes. My hat," said Neville. Trale put his hand on his arm. "There's—there's no hurry, Sir Ne- ville; he was dead when I left." - A thrill ran through the listeners at that "Sir." "Dead," exclaimed Sylvia. Neville stood speechless. "Yes, my lady," said Trate to Syl-. via. "It was hopeless. He was con- scious at the last, and knew those around hint, but he only said one word. I've got a cab at the door, Sir Neville—' They were driven to the great hos- pital of which London has a right to be proud, and conducted to the silent room of death Neville stood beside the bed, and looked down at the still face from which the surgeon has drawn the coy ering, Dead! It semed impossible. "A terrible loss, Sir Nevile! whis- pered the celebrated surgeon. "Eng- land will mourn one of her most brit. liant statesmen. Ile would have been premier if he had lived. That was certain. It is terrible to think of.' Yes, • here lay the Right Hon, Sir Jordan Lynne, Bart., M.P.; the smooth voice silenced, the acute brant stopped, the ambitious spirit quench. ed—by a hansom cab ! "I—I was told he was conscious; --- that he spoke," Neville faltered, sear- eely knowing what he said. "Yes, he spoke just before the end," said the surgeon. "Ile spoke to the nurse. She was here a moment ago. ' He beckoned, and a woman in e. nurse's uniform came forward and stood with folded hands and bent head, "Sir Neville would like to hear what his brother said, nurse," said the surgeon. She booked up. " 'Rachel. forgive!' " she said. Neville started. - "Mercy !" ho said. "You--" She looked at him, her sad face white and set, then with a slight shake of, her head she moved away, Oh, irony of fate! The great and powerful Sir Jordan had come, crush- t ed, helpless, to die in the arms 01 0 the woman he had betrayed 1 Under Oar Guaranteed Mortgage Investment Phan. Interest Quarterly DOUBLE SECURITY AFFORDED INVESTORS call or Write for Particulars MERC ` l WHIT SIT TRUST CO `t. PANY Or CANADA, LI IT[D BANKERS, BANK OF HAMILTON, - - - - HAMILTON, ONT. Frorn Whom Any Inquiries May Be Made HON. WM, GIBSON, S. C. MACDONALD, President I"7anater tribe in looks, size, weight and flavor. It is the one melon grown that never runs the peril of striking a glutted market, for the reason that, whatever its popularity, the acreage on which it is and can be cultivated is very limited, It is truly named in that the only soil in which it grows to perfection is that of the Island of Montreal, and even there the melon acreage is practically localized to two posts, Outreniont and Notre Dame de Grace. There are not more than twenty-five farms on the whole Island of Montreal on which these melons are grown, and the area of cultivation, despite all the efforts of Canada's agricultural sharps to extend the industry, is becoming rather circumscribed than increased. The Montreal melon is a true home body and steadfastly refuses to grow elsewhere, no !natter what the inducements and petting offered it. It is curious that the melon, which originated in a warm country, Hindus- tan being its birthplace, should arrive at its greatest perfection in such a lati- tude as Montreal, but it is to be remem- hered that the efontreal melon is no heaven-sent gift; it is the product of eternal vigilance, lots of hard work and an infinite attention to the details of cultivation. 'rhe pleating of the seeds is done in March in hotbeds. After a fortnight or so careful inspection is made of the plants, and if progress warrants they are transplanted into other hotbeds. The third transplanting comes in late spring, when the plants are put into what are known as the summer hotbeds. Soon after the frames around the beds are pulled away and the vines, which by this time are well under way, are left to face the contingencies of the wind and weather. As for the growers, all devout Catholics, each prays to his patron saint for a hot, dry summer, which to the melon means size and flavor. The melons are grown in patches, each patch consisting of several beds, divided from one antler by two or three rows 'of potatoes or corn. These serve as windbreaks to prevent the wind from rooting under the young and tender vines and scooping them up. The melons begin to show fair size by the middle of July. and netting com- mences. t'p to that time the melons are a glossy green. The progress of the netting, which is carefully noted, de- termines the exact time when the melons should be picked and sent to market. The growers take no chances in this particular, but aim to mora their melons just as they (pen, the Montreal melon being particularly susceptible to decay. To obviate this every possible precau- tion is taken. and the big fellows are handled as if in cotton and wool. Every path over which the melons are wheeled in wheelbarrows is swept smooth and clean with not a pebble or obstruc- tion left. A jolt may mean a bruise and a bruise means swift decay. One can't take, chances on dollar a portion melons. Every melon is carefully shored up with small stones so that the air can reach it from all sides, and there will lie no earth mark to show the spot where it lay on the ground during ripening. When the Montreal melon is picked it shows no sign of contact with the earth. Every melon is labelled, and they are packed carefully in large baskets holding from eight to twelve apiece. Shipments are made exclusively by express, it being necessary to land the fruit on the mar- ket as quickly as possible, The season lasts from five to seven weeks. Despite the price the supply is in no way adequate to the demand, New York being able and willing to take every melon grown on the island four or five times( over. Complaint of a Waterman. Noah was distinctly gloomy. "Yes, the ark was safe enough," he admitted, "but there wasn't any ball game to use my rain cheek for." Herewith he cuffed little Ilam. An embarrassment of riches some. times takes the for mof poor relations. I3lobbs—"The !nail who is always alking about his achievements might xnploy - his time to a better advan- tage." Slobbs—"Yes, he Haight be talking about ours." THE END. THE R!0%dTFp',qT, MELONS, *"4""tea heel Grow Osily in Two Spots and Cost Sr a Portion in New York. The famous Rocky Ford centaloupc-W. the real article from Colorado—is a very humble customer, indeed, beside that monarch of the melon tribe, the Montreal melon. Precious few New York breakfast tables the Montreal melon visits. The swellest restaurants hotels, clubs and the country homes and Vi11at( of the very wealthy are the piaees where it is seen; A melon that costs $1 a per*. tion is too rich for the average house. - holder's blood. The Montreal is the king of tine Itls!lori VALUE OF FERNS. Have Practical Use as Well as Or, a• mental. On many farms in this country there are areas, more or less extensive, cov- ered with ferns. This plant has net been regarded es of value, except for decorative purposes, but, says Leslie's Weekly, it has a practical value of which few people in the United States are aware. An American Consul re- ports that in parts of England fern leaves have long been employed in pack- ing fruit, fresh butter, etc., for market. Formerly grape leaves were used for this purpose, but the fern leaf is said to be far superior to that of the vine for keeping articles wrapped in it fresh and wholesome. The fishermen of the Isle of Man pack their fresh herrings in ferns, which keep the fish fresh un- til it reaches the market. Potatoes pack- ed in ferns keep many months. Fresh meat also is preserved for a protracted period when swathed in fern leaves. It is said that the preservative quality of the fern is due to the largest quantities of salt in its composition. The strong odor of the fern also repels larvae, mag- gots, etc, The Poor Farmer. If there is any class of citizens which needs sympathy it is the farm- ers. Their condtiion is truly sad. They have nothing in which to live but large, handsome houses. Nothing far furniture, except up to (late fixings, with pianos on the side. No way to talk to their neighbors except by telephone. No way to get mail except by daily rural delivery. No way to come to town except in 'tubber -tired buggies or in automobiles. No way to pay their debts except by cheques on their bank account. No Way to get more money except by... selling some of the alfalfa or wheat or stook on hand, No way to take a bath except in a porcelain bathtub. No way to heat their dwellings ex- cept by furnaces, No pleasure in travel except one or two trips to the east or to California each year. No prospect in the future to escape becoming plutocrats and capitalists except by dying or giving away their property. Ily all means let us do something to ameliorate the condition of the farmer. Separated. A regiment of soldiers were recently drawn up one Sunday for church parade but the church was being repaired ami could only hold half of them. "Sergeant major," shouted the colonel, "tell all the men who don't want to go to ahureli to fall out on the reverse flank." Of course a large number quickly and gladly availed themselves of the privi- lege. "Now, sergeant major," said sirs col- onel, "dismiss all the men who did not fall out end march the others to church —they need it most."—Philadelphia In- quirer. o a . Reassuring. . =ewe Once Sir Henry Irving, while playing "Maebeth"'in London, was somewhat dis- concerted by one of the gallery gods. He had reached the point where Mao - beth orders Banquo's ghost to leave the banquet board, "Hence, horrible sha- dow, unreal mockery, hence!" exclaimed Irving in his most tragic tones, and with a convulsive shudder sank to the ground, drawing his robe about his face. Just es Banque withdrew, an agitated coni;.. Hey voice from high up in the gallery piped out as if to reassure Irving: '•It's all right now, 'Every; 'e's gone!"— Everybody's Magazine. Typographical Error. Mitten—I was surprised when this. morning's Thunderbolt, in referring to me, said I had a "Websterian intellect," Dryde—So was the editor. He told me he wrote it "lobsterian." The balance of 1O8 FREE to all new subscribers to the EIA/!TON SEVIN -THIN TIMES fuiumnddom.nuntil the end of 1I)t for $1.00 in Canada or the fruited liaw This is a chance of a lifetime to secure a >,i . iHHon's Leading Newspaper Daily Titres by snail 642,00 per Annum. Address `MES PRINTING COMPANY, HAMILTON