The Huron Expositor, 1925-12-04, Page 7rl
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li?BELif, V,6..
an 'Of Ontario Vete nary:.
clue, niversity, of Toronto,
diseases of domestic animals treated
by the moat modern principled,,
Chargee reasonable. Day on night
Balls promptly .attended to. Odiee od;
Mira Street; Hiensall, opposite Town
Ball, Phone 116.
Phone NO. el, LEGA
:Etc,'
ock. ; =.a. Seeforth,.Ont.
.. 1-d 12 S HAYS
Barr eter, Solicitor, Conveyancer
d Notary Public. Solicitor for the
firs' minion Bank. Office ih rear of the
Dominion Bank, Seaforth. 'Money to
loan.
BEST & BEST
Banisters, Solicitors, Conveyan-
sera and 'Notaries Pu-biic, Etc. Office
in the. Edge Building, opposite The
Expositor:OMein
JAMES L. KILLORAN
Barrister, Notary Public, etc. Money
to loan. In Seaforth on Monday of
each week. Office over Keating's
Drug Store.
VETERINARY
F. HARBURN, V. 8.
Honor graduate of. Ontario Veterin-
ary College, and honorary member of
the Medical Association of the Ontario
Veterinary College. Treats diseases of
. all domestic animals• by the most mod-
eerar' "princ%1es: Dentistry and Milk
Fever- a '"specialty. ' Office opposite
Dick's Hotel, Main Street, Seaforth.
All orders left at the hotel will re-
ceive prompt attention. Night calls
received at the office.
••
gave her.
"No," she answered with an effort.
"Not only has he neefer asked me to
marry him, but no word of ,anything
of that kind has ever passed between
us. If it will make you less dreadful
to him," she went on, emphasizing the
word and lifting her head, "please let
me assure you that I am nothing to
Mr. Tremaine."
Her father knew her mettle and al-
so her honor, and believed that what
she said she thought to be true.
"I am glad of that," he said sin-
erely; "for it would be a most un-
fortunate thing if you cared for hive
—if he had cared for you."
He paused for a moment, looking
at her, and knew that she did care.
But the reserve that existed between
them made it hard for him to pro-
eed. Yet the fact that, as she told
him, John did not care for her touch-
ed his pride for her. She would not
be likely to confess that she loved a
man to whom she was nothing.
"He has the charm," he said, ` of all
successful men, of men of action and
power. He has the eharm of wealth.
It very often happens that brilliant
qualities are combined in those per-
sons whose moral fiber is not quite as
fine as it should be."
The girl was leaning forward in the
chair her father had made her take.
She sat looking up at him and. said
now, with the same challenge with
which she had spoken to Mrs. David
Tremaine, the same incredulity, the
strength of 'belief:
"Do you mean to tell me, father,
you believe that Mr. Tremaine
was a thief ?"
Mr. Malvern drew' a breath of re-
ief and was a little shocked as well.
She knew, then! He was spared the
of breaking his word.
"1 admit," he said 'practicaIly, "that
he thing sounds preposterous, my
just as you said it did."
Malaleen lifted the lid of the cigar
took out a cigar, lit it, and took
or twii' puffs. ,
"When erou see him," he said, "and
With him, and realize the magni-
position he has made, the for-
he has amassed; vehen you see
Ptomaine of toeday, it is very
JOHN GRIEVE, V. --S.
Honor graduate of Ontario Veterin-
ar"y. College. , All diseases of domestic
.nimals treated. Calls promptly at-
tended to and charges moderate. Vet-
erIuai'y Dentistry a specialty. Office
and residence on Goderich Street, one
door east of Dr. Mackay's Office, Sea -
forth.
MEDICAL
DR. R. P. I. DOUGALL
Honour graduate of Faculty of
Medicine and. Master of Science, Uni-
versity of Western Ontario, London.
Member of College of Physicians and
Surgeons of Ontario. Office, 2 doors
east of post, office. Phone 56, Hensall.
Ontario. 3004-tf
F
DR. J. A. MUNN
Successor to Dr. R. R. Ross
Graduate. of Northwestern Univers-
ity, Chicago, III. Licentiate Royal
College of Dental Surgeons, Toront.
Office over Sills' Hardware, Main St.,
Seaforth. Phone 151.
--0:—•
DR. A. NEWTON-BRADY '
Bayfield. '
Graduate Dublin University, Ice-
land,. Late Extern Assistant Master
Rotunda FIoapital for Women and
dren, Dublin. Office at residence
Lia ly' occupied by Mrs. Parsons.
Hours, 9 to 10 a.m., 6 to 7 p.m,;
Sinday►s, 1 to 2 p.m. 2866-26
DR. F. J. BURROWS
ace' and residence Goderich Street
east of the Methodist church, Seaforth.
Phone 46. Coroner for the County of
Theron.
1.
- DR. C. MACKAY
C. -Mackay, honor graduate of Trin-
iity, University, and gold medallist of
T inity Medical College; member of
the College of Physicians and Sur-
geons of Ontario.
DR. In HUGH' ROSS
Graduate of University of Toronto
Penalty of Medicine, member of Col-
lege of Physicians and Surgeons of
Ontario; pass graduate courses in
Chicago Clinical School of Chicago;
Royal Ophthalmic Hospital, London,
England;. University Hospital, Lon-
don, "England. Office—Back of Do-
minion Bank, Seaforth. Phone Ne. 5.
Night Calls answered from residence,
Victoria Street, Seaforth.
e
AUCTIONEERS
F. W. AHRENS
Licensed Auctioneer for Perth and
Iluron Counties. Sales solicited,
Real Estate, Farm Stock, Etc. Terms
nil applioffition. F. W. Ahrens, phone
834 'r 0;; R. R. No. 4, Mitchell, Ont.
. 2996-52
---
OSCAR EED
Licensed, auctioneer for the Coun-
ties of Perth and Huron. Graduate
of Jones' School of Auctioneering.
Chicago, Charges moderate, and sat-
Jsfac oil -.guaranteed. Write or wire
Oscar W. Reed, Staffa, Ont, Phone
11-2. 2965x52
THOMAS BROWN same
Licensed' a:iuetloneer for the counties.
of Huron slid Perth. Correspondence that
e raiigements for sale dates can be
mode by calling up -phone 9,7, Seaforth,
or.Tho Expositor Office Charges nood- 1
omatte, and -satisfaction guaranteed.
fact
OSCAR Kl.OPP
Honor arraduate 'Carey Jones' Nit -dear,
Canal School, of Aatetiotn}eerdng, -Chi-
+saga.' Special course taken in 'Pure I
Bred Live Stock,, Viten! Estate, Mei., one
andise and F�arn Sala. R'at"s- lir
keeping with prevailing market. Sat- talk
ildle tloth: assured. , Write or *ire, ficent
. Kopp, Zurich, Ont. Phone tune
the
w.R.
I
T. IIIIX2111
iii auctioneer for the mit
+ ' ran, Shies attended to in r�
is't s of the "un . &vran reis'l °
*dem it ° nn to,' W 1 4kr t e-
an
l! �,n li , il.
IR ��' Q .f5p .
s.
dl
wf. m ht
ex` seejing her slid
had . . then Ij f nothing else than his
dishlcee of t zein neighbor; his hatred;
and she was wishing with all her heart
that, she might he mistaken, that she
arightfind that her father was ignor-
ant of the.. story.':
"Father,'! she said simply, moving
`'towad' him and putting out her hand
which she laid upon his arm, "last
night, an the Erandegees', Mrs. David
Tremaine told me a perfectly ridicu-
lous. story ---a preposterous story --
and. I
tory-•-and:I want to hear you say that you
don't believe what she told me—the.'
you know it, to be untrue, as 1 do --
as every one who knows IVIr. Tremaine
must know."
The girl saw her father's face grow
hard, and in hos mind the promise t
his old friend no longer held. H
felt that he must now tell the truth
to his daughter who, as he believed
was unfortunately attached to a man
whose moral. weakness put him out
the question as a possible husband.
She continued: ""I cant of course
place any faith in the story of a wo-
man whose only part in Mr. Tre-
Maine's, life was one of disloyalty.
But from the frankness with which
she spoke, and the. fact that she asked
me to speak to you about it, I can't
help thinking that perhaps this dread-
ful lee—"
Mr, lV,jalvern broke in upon her. "I
don't know what you have heard," he
said briefly; "I am surprised that she
shouldehave told you anything. As
far as I am concerned, I have given
my word to his mother—"
He saw the girl recoil; her hand
dropped from her father's arm. She
repeated the words; "His mother!"
and then she exclaimed: "Oh, how
terrible! But you don't mean to tell
me that his mother believes this,
too?"
Mr. Malvern saw nothing beautiful
in his daughter's faith. With every
word, with every expression a her
face, she confessed to him that she
loved Tremaine.
"Sit down," he said, speaking more
sternly than he had ever spoken to
her.
He pushed up a chair and half led
her to it, and she sat down and faced
him, while he remained standing in
front of her.
There rose up in 1VIr. Malvern at
this moment a species of insane fury
against this man who had taken his'
daughter's affections, who had been
able to awaken in her such colossal
faith. He saw himself powerless be-
fore her strength of belief that un-
wavering belief which in the heart of
those who truly love lifts the object
high, holds it there, and knows it to
be sublime. But Malvern did not re-
alize for a single moment -how puny
his effort, or any other effort, would
be against this girl's love.
"What difference does it make to
you, Isdbel," he asked in the same
voice, "what Tremaine's past has been
—what he is? Has he asked you to
marry him ?"
Now he saw her blush cruelly, and
he could not know the pain his words
0
e
o
tts connect him with the morbid
boy who rats away from Virginia nu-
des a Floud."
"Morbid," said the girl hotly, "per -'I
haps. eiancholes perhaps. Misun-
derstood -evert disliked; cruelly treat-
ed by the girli die loured. Ail that,
(other, all that! !linld, perhaps, too
reserved and unhappy,; Mit a thief ---to
She rose fret& her chair, ea the had
reiseta froth the sofa the might before.
te
ng•
Be,
eeei
.erself were meas-.
apr'essed as he was .by her beauty
asAd her ardor, there' was 'nothing in;:
her father's hearttoward.; her 'blz
dread and displeasure:
".Isabel," he said epldly, "xemefnb!,i
You are speaking of a man who, . as.
yeu say, doesnot pare for'y'out,- -Yoe;
are ehanipioiling a roan to whoa you
are indifferent, ' Youare standing up
against your father and his people for
"Stop!" she said, and moved to-
ward the door. "Oh, I won't hear
another word! It is dreadful!" And
size thought in a swift rush that the
bread they ate, that their rooftree,
was paid for by the money of this
man. The tears were hot under her
eyelids; her whole soul was going out
in tenderness to Tremaine. She could
mot remain another moment in her
father's presence without telling bairn
whose debtor he was. It was on her
lips to do so. She started to speak,
then, controlling herself, hastily left
the room,
CHAPTER XXXVII
That day, John busied himself with
his affairs at the mines until late in
the evening. The wrench of leaving
Virginia would be a cruel one. He
could no Ionger comfort himself with
any picture of home; that was over.
He now understood how much he had
built on his ultimate return —. this
coming back to his own. He also
knew how, in spite of himself, he had
counted on some fate that would solve
for him .the problem of his life, here
at home. Musing as he sat there soli-
tary by his table, he thought how fu-
tile is the turning of the human mind
toward Fate as a solver of problems.
If he himself could not untangle the
knot, no outer power could do it for
him.
He looked back and realized that
his running away seventeen Years be-
fore had put the seal on<his life. He
should have remained to face the sit-
uation then and there, or he never
should have come back to Virginia. In
any event, he should have returned to
South Africa assoon as he had pro-
vided for his mother, and he could
have done that in a month. Instead,
he had weakly allowed his love for
Isobel, his affection for home and his
interest in the development of the
country to hold him for nearly two
years and to involve him in, a situa-
tion which must result in unhappi-
ness to himself and to those he cared
for most.
Hie mused. Was it cowardly to go
away now leaving behind him a wo-
man whom he Loved and who, as he
felt, loved him?
In balking with Leavitt, he had
said: "You ask me, like a sick man,
to throw down the cup of happiness,
I will not do it." He had determined
then to tell Isobel that he loved her.
• He could not see her again. If he
did, he knew that he could not be
master of his feelings.
Julia was still in Richmond. If he
could only avoid bidding her good -
by! , .
He took a grim satisfaction in the
fact that Malvern feasted on his
bounty—not perhaps a very worthy
triumph, but still something.
"Sam will eventually comfort my
-mother," he thought, and the idea of
these two lovers was the only conso-
lation he had.
Without, through his window, he
could see the clear night and the
stars. Soon there would be nightin-
gales in the woods, but he would be
on the veldt, again considering min-
ing problems and questions of finance;
again mingling in the crowd of men
whose only interests were material.
He sat brooding, his arm upon the
table, and Virginia, home, and coun-
try, became epitomized to him in the
sweet figure of a young girl. He
thought for a few moments, then half
started up, his arm on the chair.
"Jove!" he said aloud; "P11 find her
and tell her."
There was the sound of a hand on
his door latch; some one knocked
quickly. He called: "Come in!" and
the door was opened, admitting the
fragrant, balmy air of the night and
with it Isobel Malvern.
The surprise was so great that he
simply stood as he rose, looking at
her with eagerness and delight, the
warmth of his feelings flushing his
tone and his face.
"You!" he exclaimed. "You!"
She wore her simple tramping
clothes and a little cap on her blond
hair. She had seemed to him the
spirit of the sunlight; now she seem-
ed to him the very spirit of the night.
She came up to him quickly.
"Yes, I've come from Malvern. No
one knows I've left the house. I've
something very important, to say to
you."
'Looking down at her, Tremaine be-
gan:
"I have something very important
to say to you."
Isobel had waited long for this
Seib by- 'rl> rn t4„
ltd tie '1
It'
ntal
_ i - owin Comprises every new style idea- •
be of great interest to. everyperson in- Seal
. � Seaforth a
country. These Christmas Gifts were receiued this rd.
by ensuring absolute newness. Watch theglory. of color in
window displays
A : new Overcoat, Suit, Hats, Gloves, Neckwear, Sox, Belt,
Handkerchief, Shirt, Pyjamas, Braces, Garters, Armbands;..
Underwear, Bathrobe, Collars and Sweaters.
Gift Suggestions For Mother or Sister-:
A new Coat, Afternoon or Evening Frock, Silk or Wool Hos-
iey, Hand -painted Scarf, Linen or Silk Crepe Handkerchiefs,
Woollen Gloves, Woollen Toques, Underwear and Bathrobe.
moment, and now that it had come,
curiously enough it was she who ov-
errode his speech. She half lifted her
hand, as though to prevent him, and
said:
"Have you? Have you? Well,
wait just a moment. I've something
to say to you. You said,the last
time we were together, that we were
not even friends. I don't wonder you
think it."
"You don't?"
"0f course you feel it of all of us
—of all of us."
Her chin was held up, her fearless
gray eyes were bent upon him with
the spirit of courage and boldness he
so liked in her.
"You Ihust take back the fortune
you gave my father."
"No; impossible!"
"We must never touch another
penny of that money."
"Why, pray?"
"It was generous of you, noble of
you, great of you; but you must take
it back. I would rather see him poor;
I would rather see him run the risk
of anything you prophesy, than see
him use your money."
He recoiled for a moment, suddenly
struck by what might be the meaning
of her words; and then he realized
what it would mean to him in that
moment, to have her know the stain
upon his name, to have her believe
anything of him but good. It seemed
as though he could not bear it. But
even before this anguish could find a
place in his heart, Isobel, drawing
nearer, had put out her hand with a
charming gesture that had in it some-
thing of humility.
"I have come to ask you to forgive
my father—to forgive them all."
"To forgive?" he questioned, ex-
periencing a sudden revulsion at her
gesture and her words.
Her voice was peculiarly sweet and
thrilling as she said:
"Oh, I know, I know!"
"You know? You know what?"
She was looking at him earnestly,
the expression of her face inspiring,
encouraging. The tenderness in her
heart had not yet put out that Iight
that sometimes is quenched by more
personal feelings. The look of her,
her expression, the'•tone of her voice,
made him say to himself: "Why; it's
worth it all to see such a look!"
"What do you know?"
"Why, what does it matter?"
"What does it matter!'nhe exclaim-
ed, mystified. Fc.
"Do you think I believe it?"
'She had drawn nearer to him, still
nearer.
"You must forgive my father," she
said quietly; "he is jealous and pre-
judiced, and he doesn't know you. And
your s'hother-.-you =list forgive her."
She was silent, looking at him, and
he knew that she was waiting for
him to speak. She pause&'long, look-
ing at hint *lib the sato bright look.
As Julia ':Tremaine had done, But in
such a different way, she put her hand
6n his arm. He heard her s=, under
her breath:
"
a
h ��rhtt Tremaine, 1! fxnv
O
7 4
Tretatine caught ter !
a
nd
ha can
hie alineet lett l , , ,.
"Do you mean to say," he asked,
"that you could love a thief?"
She held her head up, looking at
him firmly.
"No," she said, "never!"
"Women have loved lower than
that," said John.
"Possibly," she answered; "but the
man I love has never been a thief."
Then she added, the same bright look
still unquenched: "I would not be-
lieve it of you if you told me so with
your own lips."
For a moment they stood like this
together, Tremaine looking down into
her face, drinking thirstily from the
light and faith and love there; and
then, as though his own hand, his
own look, quenched the 'beautiful light
he saw her expression change. She
was transformed from the gracious
emissary into simply a woman. Her
eyes filled with tears, her lip began
to tremble. She heard him say under
his breath something about a "grain
of mustard seed" and wondered after-
wards what he meant. She thought
that he would take her in his arms.
She had no longer any doubt that he.
loved her.
He took both her hands in his and
crushed them hard, allowing himself
this much of her. He spoke quickly,
in an undertone:
"We've only a few seconds to be
here alone together like this," he
said. "Some of my employees are
coming to talk with me. _They may
be here at any moment, and they
must not find you here. You must
go at once."
Even as he spoke, he was leading
her to the door.
"I can't thank you for corning.
Thanks are poor things in return for
what you have said. Believe me, I
would rather have this evidence of
your •faith in nee than anything in
the whole world. Bless you!" he said
fervently, close to her and yet not
touching her. "Bless you!"
With her eyes fastened upon his
face, it seemed as though she called
upon him to speak out his heart to
her.
"1 love you," he said. "I could not
have gone without telling you so,
though I can never ask you to be my
wife. Tour faith will sustain me: till
I die. Good -by."
With a protest on her lips, she lift-
ed her face to him.
He heard his name called under the
window:
"John, John! Are you there?"
And Sam Leavitt, tapping on the
pane, passed around to the door. John
threw it open. As Leavitt entered,
he said:
"Miss. Malvern has been here a few
minutes to talk with me about a mat-
ter of ,importance."
Leavitt stood in the doorway. He
looked from one to the other and
would have withdrawn, but John said;
"8(1`!11 you see Miss Malvern home
and come back here for me?
I am
expecting the superintendent n
dent of the
9
!nines. I1b'e L
U walk back later to 1P.ilr-
' e."
e'rssd
CHAP'TEtt C;iwVflI
Salo iretufilit 'tt':•. Ltt' esside waa
flight. She could not get back fast
enough—could not get to John quick-
ly enough, before any one else should
see him—before he could hear of her
treachery from Isobel.
She had stayed all that night at
Richmond and not slept an hour of
the time; and in her wakefulness, full
of longing, desire, and unhappiness,
she had—so she thought—gone far to
pay for the wrong she had done him.
She took back with her to Riverside
the fire and excitement of her anxie-
ty, and a determination not yet dead.
She wondered where she should find
John—prayed that she might find him
alone—met her children in the hall
and scarcely spoke to them.
"Where is your Uncle John?"
Mrs. Tremaine called to her from
the library, but she did not answer.
Learning that hei had gone down to
the mines, she started out, as she was,
to walk across the fields and the Back
Pasture into the woods, to take the
short cut to the settlement. She
crossed the Back Pasture, where the
earth was bard and crumbling under
the light frost of the previous night,
and walked swiftly into the fragrant
weods, almost stumbling with fatigue
and excitement.
,Her feelings had now reached such
a pitch that it seemed to her that
they must carry John with them; it
was impossible for her to believe that
she could feel like this and he remain
so indifferent. She was not clear in
her mind what she would say to him;
she had no plan, but she knew what
she wanted, and she was putting forth
the supremest effort that a woman
can make. ,
There were sobs in her throat,
which :she forced back. She breathed
heavily, as one who carries a burden;
her lips were dry With the fever of
the night; she held her furs closely
about her. Her eyes were bent on
the ground, but when she heard in
the distance the crackling of twigs
and looked up and saw John coming
toward her, she stood still, and her
heart beat so fast that she swayed
where she stood, and her hands hold-
ing her furs seemed to hold her heart
in her breast. The film across her
eyes prevented her clearly seeing his
face or the unmistakable look on it
of indifference --almost annoyance.
She was still too carried away by
herself to measure the other's feel-
ings.
"I thought you intended to remain
in Richmond until to -morrow?"
"I did intend to, but I had to come
back."
She would have fallen without a
support. She put out her hand grop-
ingly and caught his arm and held
to it convulsively, lifting her face to
him in utter disregard of the work
that . ideeplessness and passion had
wrought upon it.
"Marry me, John! Take me hack
with you!"
"No."
"Think what
I could be to0
y u! Let
me prove—.."
The words 'trot4ld have died in her
throat; lint her desperation forced
theist Ont.11 Att. ,
t4giire ' t� j' li€e, »'iyralelf, �3t;
make up—to buy back—"
He had been engrossed with his own
problems, in the renunciation he was
snaking here and in the future he was
planning for himself of loneliness and
disassociation from every tie; for
though he had suffered, he had' be-
come impersonal, and had been carried
out of his material self by his sacri-
fice. He looked at her almost benig-
nantly. She seemed very pitiful to
him, moth her hands were on his
arm, and he covered them with his
own strong hands.
"Be quiet. Calm yourself, Julia."
"I can't bear to think of your go-
ing back there alone!"
"Don't think of it."
His voice was so grave and so con-
trolled, his look was so serene—for
she could not stir him in any possible.
way now—that it penetrated her ex-
citement as nothing else could have
done.
"Why won't you marry me, John?"
"Because I love another woman."
"She can't be anything to you."
"I know that."
He felt her tremble. Tears rushed
to her eyes and poured down her
cheeks. He took cut his handker-
chief, and she buried her face in it.
It was fresh and cool—and his. He ,-
beard her murmur.
"1)o you really love her?"
And he said: "Yes, absolutely."
She leaned against him without re-
serve, her face buried against his
breast. After a few moments she
controlled her self and said, more
tranquilly:
"Then there's nothing for me?"
"There's nothing for either of us,
Julia."
"And you will go back there a-
lone?"
"Yes."
Ile saw it was not necessary for
him to tell her to control herself fur-
ther, for she did so, wiping away her
tears. The fires of her feelings were
quenched by them, as the inevitable.•
ness of what he said killed at last her
hope.
She asked with a deep sigh:
"Wlhen will you go?"
"Very soon. I don't know exactly,
but very soon." h:
"I am going to keep this," she
said, and thrust the handkerchief he
had given her, wet with her tears,
into the breast of her jacket, under
her furs.
"I haven't been able to bring you.
anything', John."
"That's one of the tragedies of
life, isn't it, Julia?"
And she said quickly: "You think -
I haven't—you think I aunt?"
She caught his hand again and
pressed it for a ,moment against her
cheek.
"But I can; I will! And satin' dltp'
you will remember how I loved..
Now, let the go home ell'one, 'leas!
will you?'' I want to be %%Ioti(i
She dropped his hand hatfd laud. 6tax
q'aickly, back in the .:prat,
have gone with let' hill
''You
are rioto
l;
its
+I
foolish, Julia"
cc
a%?
Y