Loading...
Zurich Herald, 1915-10-22, Page 6A Success'NIPen 72=7:Te-N NEW .,/ .,. ".. Po C-Ket i. �1 I..! ♦ Y �}VI(�lT?�fir Y ��^-.•�.,� �y/] ��-''� •pay ��y�1��J �`@Q temari r Ask to see this new type. There are also Safety and Regular Types. . Illustrated booklet sent on request. Avoid substitutes. Sold By Your Local Dealer L. E.Waterman Company, Limited, Montreal 11 THE G LDEN KEY Or "The Adventures of f.edgw cL" By the Author of "What He Cost Her." CHAPTER XIX. Ernestine found a letter on her ate a few mornings afterwards hich rather puzzled her. It was ,o70171a firm of solicitors in Lincoln's -in—the Eastchester family solicit- rs—requesting her to call that morn- ig to see them on important business. here was not a hint as to the nature f it, merely a formal line or two nd a signature. Ernestine, who had ritten insulting letters to all her re - Alves during the last few days, mil- d as she laid it down. Perhaps the amity had called upon Mr. Cuthbert a "ndertr:ke their defence and bring cr round in a reasonable view of zings. The idea was amusing nough, but her first impulse was not o go. Nothing but the combination f an idle morning and a certain meas - ire of curiosity, induced her to keep he appointment. She was evidently expected, for she vas shown at once into the private of - ice of the senior partner. The clerk vho ushered her in pronounced her tame indistinctly, and the elderly man vho rose from his chair at her en - ;ranee looked at her inquiringly. "I am Miss Wendermott," she said, doming forward. "I had a letter from ,ou this morning; you wished to see ne, I believe." ivIr. Cuthbert dropped at once his ,Iyeglass and his inquiring gaze, and field out his hand. "My dear Miss Wendermott," he laid, "you must pardon the failing ryesight of an old man. To be sure :au are, to be sure. Sit down, Miss Yendermott, if you please. Dear me, what a likeness!" "You mean to my father?" she tsked quietly. "To your father, certainly, poor, lear old boy! You must excuse me, Vfiss Wendermott. Your father and were at Eton together, and I think may say that we were always something more than lawyer and lient—a good deal more, a good deal nore! He was a fine fellow. Bless ne, to think that you are his daugh- ;er!" "It's very nice to hear you speak of aim so, Mr. Cuthbert," she said. "My :other may have been very foolish—I Suppose he was really worse than fool- :sh—but I think that he was most abominably and shamefully treated, and. so long as I live I shall never for- give those who were responsible for it. I don't mean you, Mr. Cuthbert, of course. I mean my grandfather and my uncle." Mr. Cuthbert shook his head slowly. "The Earl," he said, "was a very proud man—a very proud man." "You may call it pride," she ex- claimed. "I call it rank and brutal selfishness! They had no right to ; force such a sacrifice upon him. He would have been content, I am sure, to have lived quietly in England—to i have kept out of their way, to have ' conformed to their wishes in any reasonable manner. But to rob him , of home and friends and 'samily and I name—well, may God call them to ac- count for it, and judge them as they judged him l" "I was against it," he said sadly, "always." "So Mr. Davenant told me," she said. "I can't quite forgive you, Mr. Cuthbert, for letting me grow up and bo so shamefully imposed upon, but of course I don't blame you as I do the others. I am only thankful that I have made myself independent of my relations. I think, after the let- ters which I wrote to them last night they will be quite content to let me remain where they put my father-- outside their lives." "I had heard," Mr. Cuthbert said hesitatingly, "that you were following some occupation. Something literary, is it not?" "I am a journalist," Ernestine an- swered promptly, "and I'm proud to say that I am earning nay own living." He looked' at her with a fine and wonderful curiosity. .In his way he was quite as much one of the old school as the Earl of Eastchester, and the idea of a lady—a ender!nott, too hr' calling gelf a journalist and proud of nna�l�g a IOW hundreds 'a, Year was ltheitl2ime anotigh. to him. He scarcely knew holy t6 answer her. "Yes, yes,"he said, you have some r of your father's spirit, some of his pluck too. And that reminds me— we wrote to you to call." "Yes." "Mr. Davenant has told you that your father was engaged in some en- , terprise with this wonderful Mr. Scar- lett Trent, when he died," "Yes! He told me that!" "Well, I have had a visit just re- cently from that gentleman. It seems., that your father when he was dying spoke of his daughter in England, ' and Mrs. Trent is very anxious now to find you out, and speaks of a large sum of money which he wishes to in- vest in your name." "He has been a long time thinking about it," Ernestine remarked. "He explained that," Mr. Cuthbert continued, "in this way. Your father gave him our address when he was dying', but the envelope on which it was written got mislaid, and he only came across it a day or two ago. He i came to see me at once, and he seems prepared to act very handsomely. He pressed very hard indeed for your ' name and address, but I did not feel at liberty to disclose them before see- •ing you." "You were quite right, Mr. Cuth- bert," she answered. "I suppose this is the reason why Mr. Davenant has just told me the whole miserable story." "It is one reason," he admitted, "but in any case I think that Mr. Dav- enant had made up his mind that you should know." "Mr. Trent, I suppose, talks of this money as a present to me?" "He did not speak of it in that way," Mr. Cuthbert answered, "but in a sense that is, of course, what it amounts to. At the same, time I should like to say that under the pe- culiar circumstances of the case I should consider you altogether justi- fied in accepting it." Ernestine drew herself up. Once more in her finely flashing eyes and resolute air the lawyer was reminded of his old friend. "I will tell you what I should call it, Mr. Cuthbert," she said, "I will tell you what I believe it is! It is blood- money." Mr. Cuthbert dropped his eyeglass, and rose from his chair, startled. "Blood -money! My dear young lady! Blood -money!" "Yes! You have heard the whole story, I suppose! What did it sound like to you? A valuable concession granted to two men, one old, the other young! one strong, the other feeble! yet the concession read, if one should die the survivor should take the whole. Who put that in, do you sup- pose? Not my father! you may be sure of that. And one of them does die, and Scarlett Trent is left to take everything. y ing. Do you think that reas- onable? I don't. Now, you say, after all this time he is fired with a sudden desire to behave handsomely to the daughter of his dead partner. Fiddle- sticks! I know Scarlett Trent, al- though he little knows who I am, and he isn't that sort of man at all. He'd better have kept away from you altogether, for I fancy he's put his neck in the noose now! I do not want his money, but there is some- thing I do want from Mr. Scarlett Trent, and that is the whole knowl- edge of my father's death." Mr. Cuthbert sat down heavily in this chair. "But, my dear young lady," he said, "you do not suspect Mr. Trent of—er —making away with your father!" "And why not? According to his own showing they were alone to- gether when he died. What was to prevent it? I want to know more about it, and I am going to, if I have to travel to the Gold Coast myself. I will tell you frankly, Mr, Cuthbert, I suspect Mr. Scarlett Trent. No, don't interrupt rne. It may seem absurd to you now that he is Mr. Scarlett Trent, millionaire, with the odor of civiliza- tion clinging to him., and the respect- ability of wealth. But I, too, have seen hien, and I have heard him talk. He has helped me to see the other man—half-savage, splendidly master- ful, forging his way through to suc- cess by sheer pluck and unswerving obstinacy. Listen, I admire your Mr. Trent! He is a man, and when he speaks to you you know that he w born with a destiny. But there is th other side. Do you think that h would let a man's life stand in hi way ? Not he! He'd commit a mor der, or would have done in those days as readily as you or I would swee a fly. And it is because he 1 that sort of man that I want to kno more about my father's death." "`You are talking of serious things Miss Wendermott," Mr. Cuthbert sal gravely. "Why not? Why'shirk them ? M father's death was a serious thin wasn't it? I want an account of i from the only pian who can rende it." "When you disclose yourself to Mr Trent I should say that he woul willingly give you—" She interrupted him, coming ov and standing before him, leanin against his table, and looking him. i the face. "You don't understand. 1 ani not going to disclose myself! You will reply to- Mr. Trent that the daughter of his old partner is not in need of" charity, however magnificently ten- dered. You. understand?" "I understand, Miss Wendeimott." "As to her name or whereabouts you are not at liberty to disclose them, You can let him think, if you will, that she is tarred with the same brush as those infamous and hypo- critical relatives of hers who sent her father out to die." "It may be a wild-goose chase," she said. "It may not. At any rate nothing will alter my purpose. Jus- tice sleeps sometimes for very many years, but I have an idea that Mr, Scarlett Trent may yet•have to face a day of settlement." She walked through the crowded streets homewards, her nerves ting- ling and her pulses throbbing with. excitement. She was conscious of having somehow ridded herself of a load of uncertainty and anxiety. She was committed now at any rate to a definite course. There had been mo ents of indecision—moments in which she had been inclined to revert to her first impressions of the man, which, before she had heard Daven- ant's story, had been favorable enough. That was all over now. That pitifully tragic figure—the man who died with a tardy fortune in his hands„ an outcast in a 'far off country—had stirred in her heart a passionate sym- pathy—reason even gave way before it. She declared war against Mr. Scarlett Trent. as r e e s. ell' s w. d z d ex. g n CHAPTER XX. Ernestine walked from Lincoln's Inn to the office of the Hour, where she stayed until nearly four. Then, having finished her day's work, she made her way homewards. Davenant was waiting for her in her rooms. She greeted him with some surprise. "You told me that I might come to tea," he reminded her. "If you're ex- pecting any one else, or I'm in the way, don't mind saying so, please!"" She shook her head. "I'm certainly not expecting any one," she said. "To tell you the truth my visiting -list is a very small one; scarcely any one knows where I live. Sit down, and I will ring for tea." He looked at her curiously. "What a color you have, Ernestine!" he re- marked. "Have you been walking fast?" She laughed softly, and took off i her hat, straightening the wavy brown hair, which had escaped bounds a little, in front of the mirror. She looked at herself long and thought- fully at the delicately cut but strong features, the clear, grey eyes and finely arched eyebrows, the curving, humorous mouth and dainty chin. Davenant regarded her in amaze- ment. "Why, Ernestine," he exclaimed "are you taking stock of your good looks ?" "Precisely what I am doing," she answered laughing. "At that moment I was wondering whether I possessed an If you will allow me," he said, "to take the place of the mirror, I think that I could give you any assurances you required." She shook her head, "You might be more • flattering," she said, but you would be less faith- ful." He remained standing upon the hearthrug. Ernestine returned to the mirror, "May I ask," he asked, "for whose sake is this sudden anxiety about your appearance?" She turned away and sat in a low chair, her hands clasped behind her head, her eyes fixed on vacancy. "I have been wondering," she said, "whether if I set myself to it as to a task I could make a man for a mo- ment forget himself—did I say for- get ?—I mean betray!" "If I were that man," he remarked smiling, "I will answer for it that you could." "You! But then you are only a boy, you have nothing to conceal, and you are partial to me, aren't you? No, the man whom I want to influence is a very different sort of person. It is Scarlett Trent." He frowned heavily. "A boor," he said. "What have you to do with him ? The less the better I should say." "And from my point of view, the more the better," she answered, "I have cone to believe that but for him nay father would be alive to -day." 'I do not understand! If you be-' lieve that, surely you do not wish to see the pian ---to have hire come near you!" "I want him punished!" He shook his head. There is no proof. There never could be any proof!" "There are many ways, she • said art i$ perfectly pr $fit ' the ; `¢ `aturai Lcaf served ht the, sealed 13104 packet Young tender leaves only, grown with t11 host care and with !lavuwr..{, s the prime °Meet, are used . to pr i d ce the .am,.tus Salada blends. Replanting the Woodlet. Special effort should be made to secure the reproduction of the trees removed from the farm woodlot dur- ing the cutting season just passed. In. many cases sprouts are counted on for this reproduction. and for certain purposes such as fuel, posts, and shelter, they can be relied upon to furnish the desired material. When this second crop is cut in its turn, however, the old stumps have lost most, if not all of their vitality and unless some vigorous seedlings have grown up in the meantime, the value of the woodlot is greatly impaired. Since it requires many years to build up a woodlot which has been allowed to run out, it is a wise plan to insure the production of some good healthy seeding trees each year by planting species in the openings created by the winters cutting. During early life the sprouts, be- cause of the advantage of a previous- ly established root system, will out- strip the little seedlings and may de- prive them of the requisite amount of light for good growth. Therefore, in the first thinning or cutting of the sprouts some special consideration should be shown the young seedlings. The method of planting the seeds will depend upon the species used. Walnut, hickory and all of the oaks can be planted; about two inches ieep in a hole made with a dibble or spud. . The smaller seeds such as red and white elm, maple and ash may be planted by removing the coarser litter from a small spot and putting on a few seeds, covering them very lightly with fine soil and a little lit- ter. In many cases it is better to raise or buy seedlings of the species having small seeds and transplant there in the desired location. • Age of Horses. The age of a horse is most easily !I I i lll+,n^r determined by the cups in the teeth. At four years, the horse has his per- manent front teeth. At five, there are deep black cavities in the centres of all lower nippers. At six, these cavities disappear in the two centre lower nippers. Two more lose their cavities for each year to the eighth, and- then the two centre upper nip- pers lose their cavities, and each year two more, until at the age of ten the teeth are all smooth or retain only a small black speck. After the ago of ten the length of the teeth and tushes must be judged—even then the age can be determined only approxi- mately. Souring and Cover Crops. Never turn the clover or other crop under without first thoroughly cut- ting up with a disc harrow, as the material ploughed under in a layer se- riously interferes with the capillary action of the moisture in the soil. The effects of turning under in a layer are what is sometimes called souring the soil with green manuring crops. Dou- ble disc the cover crop two or three times with a sharp disc harrow before ploughing; plough well by taking a narrow furrow and edging rather than inverting the furrow; then double disc the land again rather deeply, and no injurious effect will result, however large the growth may be. Profits on the Farm. You will not be likely to have a bal- ance on the right side of your farm ledger if such a scene as this may be found on your farm. After a farmer has paid his good money for farm equipment it is wasteful to leave it out to take the weather wherever it was last used. The winter months is not a bad time to construct sheds and shelves for the equipment. There should be a place for everything on the farm and everything should be kept in its place when not in use. softly, "in which a man can be made to suffer." "And you would set yourself to do this?" "Why not? Is not anything better than letting him go scott-free? Would you have me sit still and watch him blossom into a millionaire peer, a man of society, drinking deep. draughts of all the joys of life, with never a- thought for the man he left to rot in an African jungle? Oh, any way of punishing him is better than that. I have declared war against Scarlett Trent." "How long," he asked, "will it last?" "Until he is in my power," she an- swered slowly. "Until he has fallen back again to the ruck. Until he has tasted a little of the misery from which at least he .might have saved my father!" "(To be continued.) Ineffective Economy. Boswell, in his classic "Life of Johnson," tells the following concern- ing the opinion of his friend on the subject of thrift: "I told him that at a certain gentleman's house where there was thought to be such extrava- gance, or bad management, he was living beyond his income, his lady had objected to the cutting of a pickled mango, and that I had taken an oppor- tunity'to ask the price of it, and found it was only two shillings, so here was a very poor saving." Johnson: "Sir, that is the blundering economy of a narrow understanding. It is stopping one hole in a sieve." It takes over one-third of a second for the eyelid to open and close. NOW---Ifou Can Have A fistE i F C T C o m 50c, 75c Walde /Nub, . $1.00, $150 S1.1N FOOD WRINKLE CHASER USFI' has solved the 'problem of beauty Its, use is bring- ing baek the' freshness and bloom of youth, and driving away, wherever used consistently, the wrinkles of worry and age. Used for centuries by the famous 'beauties of the East. Guaranteed free from Bair growth. Your druggist has it SEE YOUR DRUGGIST TO -DAY. USIT MANUFACTURING COMPANY, Limited 476 Roneesvalles Avenue, Toronto. mamma i3 Gossip From Fashion's Shops. If you wear a very . small veil that covers your eyes but not your nose you are hi style. If you wear a veil as large as a bedspread, so much the better; you are still more in style. There never was such a veil season; veils of every kind are offered, and some so expensive that it seems a sin to pay so much money for such a trifle. The hand -embroidered silk filets are works of art. Many a gay touch is given the new- est fall suit by hand embroidery done with the ordinary wool used for mak- ing sweaters and such garments. This work is easily accomplished and a plain suit is made quite individual by an additional touch of a well-chosen color. Braids of all widths made into ornaments and combined with silk. cords will be used as trimming as well as the metal braids in gold and sil- ver combined with soutache braid. Beads, too, have not lost any of their popularity and will be used together with. braids. Jet will be utilized where occasions allow. Evening gowns show much use of sequins and metal threads. With polonaise, bustle and drapery the evening dress of future winter af- fairs bids fair to add .a varied effect to costume where last year the be - dressed throng, whether young or old, was, to say the least, tiresome. Besides, it was most difficult to dis- tinguish at a distance whether it was mother, daughter or grandmother. The eighteenth century sleeve, which is made of white batiste or or- gandie and ends with a frill over the hand, held in place by a tight brace- let of black velvet ribbon, is return- ed to fashion; it is used on that new kind of winter house frocks which Mme. Joire of the house of Paquin accentuates, made of taffeta and or- gandie, of velvet and organdie. These sleeves are placed in a jumper blouse of blue or black taffeta, and there is a wide band of the same summer-like • material on the skirt or edging the ends of the sash. Kolinsky, the Russian cat, is the peltry most in demand by the fashion- able dressmakers for trimming pur- poses; some of it is pointed with sil- ver like a fine fox. Sealskin has come into its own again after years of ob- livion, and beaver . is ubiquitous. Opossum is again used, and all the foxes in separate pieces. China rose is a new color making its appearance in millinery lines. The shade is not unlike the coral tones with which the summer vogues .have familiarized us. It is deeper in tone and of a bluer quality; very good- looking in felt and plush, especially when trimmed with beaver or seal. Silk handbags are much more in favor, even with severe tailored cos- tumes, than bags of leather. Some- times the leather bag is made very dainty, with plaited sides and a shirred lining of tinted silk, but the bag of faille classique moire or gros- grain silk has first favor with well- dressed women. The deep, tobacco pouch shape is the favorite, and the silk is gathered to the covered frame, one smart model recently brought over from Paris having deep over- lapping tucks all around the pouch shape. Beaded purses in open lattice effect are for use with formal after- noon costumes. Some of these pretty affairs have frames of tortoise shell and gay tassel trimmings. Gone is the bulky, cumbersome fur coat that added thirty rounds to its wearer—in appearance, if not in act- ual weight—and in its place is a new fur coat, inexpressibly smart and youthful, with sleeves set into rather small armholes, close lines over shoul- der and bust and most of the fur in the ripple skirt, which swings out be- low the waist line in Jaunty, youthful style. Hudson seal is by all odds the favorite pelt for such coats, and un- less the seal coat is trimmed with col- lar and cuffs of contrasting pelt it may not claim last-minute modishness for its own. The Self-made 'Man. have you understand, Sir," said the bustling little chap, "that I arra .a self-made man." "All right, old man," said iiggdsrs. "Now, run along home and finish the job, and then P11 talk to you." A Wise 11d.. "Jnhnnyr, do you know that your mother has been looking for you?" asked the neighbor next door. "Sure I do," replied Johnny; ,="that'a. the reason she.can't;find, mel;,r,r, A State lunch in Cbitia comprises 146 dishes, •