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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Blyth Standard, 1902-09-18, Page 3***************4 0IPSY'S 11ARRIA0E 4444++4444444/44 "1 must be off," Sir afaurico says, gathering up his reins, "or I shall mien my train,,' and, saying "Good - by," he drives away to the station, as hounds, horsemen and all moved *ill t: away to begin the day's sport. But to -gray Miss Blake docs not Caro whether they "tiud" ornot,and elho goes home early to prepare for her visit to Drumaneen Castle. 'Ob, do stay till they draw Bally - beg Wood! Jim Saye they are going there next, and it is on the way home,' Wadi, Gladys, wistfully, for Captain Lefroy Is very attentive to his fair lady to -day, and Gladys Is Ill a heaven of delight. "Tin sure you aren't tired yet, Flora.' "Yes, I um; and it's a horrid, stu- pid day, and I have to get my things packed to go to Drumaneen Castle this evening, no there Is no nee la 'staying, They will be hours drawing the place; and it le so told. Come!" Poor Gladys, her heart loagingfor a rapid, flight across country, follow- ing captain Lefroy'e lead, turns her horse's head slowly and reluctantly; for It le eo early in the day, and thele is sure to be a fox here. Among the gorge they can see the hounds and the red Coats dotted Here and there. Lleten ! They have found !' cried Gladys, looking beck wistfully. "Oh, Flora, wait a minute ! Yea—toot, toot, toot, goes the horn! (lone away, gone away! Look, look—the fox!" shrieks Gladys. "1 ere him, Flora, Flora 1" Then, se the hounds In full ory bust out of the covert and stream away across the open, and there 1* a rush to be first and toremoet In the. field Gladys, in wild excitement, tries, but In a very halt -hearted man- ner, to keep her horse from following the orowd. Captain Lefroy comes galloping by. "Come on, Gladys!" he shouts. "Follow me 1" And she is off, with that magic "Follow mel" In her ears. And Flora, with a frown on her fade, watches her sister's light form flying over the fields, sees her follow Jim Lefeby over a big bank; and then she rides slowly home by her- self. 1f Sir Maurice had been out, elle would have gone with the beat of them, for all the country knows that Miss Blake can ride; but to -day she she has no spirit, no heart (or It. CHAPTER II. • Late in the afternoon the brougham from Rivers rolls under the archway of Drumaneen Castle, The tower Mande ont dark and gray against the pale winter sky ; but in the rows of small, ley -bordered windows lights aro gleaming and glowing pleasantly. Miffs Blake, in a long velvet coat, richly trimmed with fur, Jumps out of the carriage es the door of the cas- tle la opened wide, and the warm light from within shines forth in a bright welcome. "Her IadovehIp Ie in the drawing - room, mise," the Sid servitor says, blandly, with deep respect, as be - BABY'S OWN TABLETS 1, or Weak, Sickly and Fretful Child- ren 01 All Ages. If the children's digestive organa are all right, the children aro all right. They will bo hearty, rosy, happy—and hungry. Get the 111110 oats right, and keep them right Illy the use of Baby's Own Tablets, This medicine cures all stomaoh and bowel troubles, ner,voueness, irritation While teething, 'etc. These Tablets coptnin no opiate or poisonous clangs and mothers who try them once will not bo nithout them while they have little once, Mrs. D. E. Badgloy, Woodmorc, Man., nays: "When uur little girl was about six months old she caught a bad Oeld, and.was much trouhlcd with lridlg(etlon and cuneli- pation, and very restless both day and night. One of mY neighbors brought me some Baby's Own Teb- lets and In it few days Cy Little 'inc was regular in her bowels and rested wall. I found the Tablets se satis- factory that I now always keep diem in the house, and have since found them valuable when elle was teeth- ing. I can truly recommend them!for the Ills of little ones," Children tyke these Tablets readily, and crushed to a powder they roan be given with absolute safety to the smallest infant. Tho Tablets can be obtained at all drag stores, or you can get them poet paid at 25 vents a b02 by writing direct to 'the Dr, Wi111ami' Medicine Co., Ot'ockvtlle, Ont„ or Schenectady, N. Y. hooves him toward the lady who In all probability will bo his rnletrese one day. Lady Dermot, burled In the coziest of cozy armchairs', rises as Miss Blake Is announced, and the ladies kiss each other affectionately. . "Dear child, it was 90 good of you to come 1" Lady Dermot murmurs, "Maurice spade me send for you. He knew how you would charm away the loneliness. Which sweet little Invitation brings a warm color to Miss Blake's lace. "I was very glad to come,' she anewers, softly. "Maurice met me at the meet, and gave rano your note, and I returned home early eo that I could drive over before it was quite dark." "%hat was very, good of you, dear. And now sit down in that chair— tot will be in directly—and tell me all about everything and everybody —vahb was out to -day, and all about it"; and Lady Dermot stirs up the fire and bustles about, as much as a dignified person tike her can do sot in a pretty, dignified way, and looks at the firelight flashing UR M1se Blake's fair, high -brad face. Miss Blake, with her fifteen thou- saud pounds and her good looks find her good manners, will make a very nice wife for Maurice by and by, mentally decides Lady Dermot. She le talking away now in her calm, placid planner. telling Lady Dermot all about tlio day's sport, and looking quite at home to the 'soft, deep armchair, with her vet - vets co-! her Ibr,, and her soft blue eyes, that somehow never tell one a whit of their owner's thoughts, looking into Lndy Dermot'e face with that far -away look that mad- dened the Grimshaw faction no this morning. "And you know, Lady Dermot, 1 think it is much a pity for Gladys to be seen so much with Captain Lefroy ; every one 1e talking." This 1's Flora'a revenge for Gladys' deeer- tIon of her this afternoon. Lady Dermod nods. "'I always said no. Flora. You know, my dear child, that engage- ment ought never to have been al- lowed:" "But how could it be prevented? Mamma did all she could; but you know papa was alive than, and he said Gladys was to please herself," "Weil, dear, he will never marry her—never 1 (iptatn Lefroy may be a very handsome and a very fas- cinating man; but he is no man to settle downs and lie never will." Meanwhile Gladye le riding home with Captain Lefroy, so happy, poor child, so confideut that Some day he will give up all hie mad, wild doings, and that lie and site will evila sweet, new lfle to- gether ! "Good -night, my darling" he whis- pers, and takes one ktae in the twi- light. "You aro my good angel, ,la• dye, "Good -night, Jim," elm Bays, low and soft, to her sweet voice. "I have bad such a happy day."' And eo they part Iii the darkening shadows of the short afternoon. The odor of the salt sea comes strongly to Sir Maurice Dermot as he reaches his Journey's end and finds himself standing et the door of a deeolato looking mnnslon facing the wide Atlantic. He can see great gray waves with rearing white crests cluasting each other over the face of the deep. It is a long time since he has seen the sea, and he game on it Intently now, and breathes the strong salt air with a keen sense of enjoyment, In spite of the dismal surroundings. Such a dreary scene 1t Is, with no trees, ,no shrubs -only this bleak white house standing bark from the sea, forever within hearing of the roaring of the waves and the thun- der of the gulf upon the handl. Sir Maurice, drawing the fresh, briny air deep into his lungs, looks out with a grave face over the waste of waters. Then the door of the house la opened, and the next moment be finds himself standing in a small bare hall and the door shut behind him. 1 "Will you step tato the patio:, sir ?" The old woman who anewers the summons indicates the parlor door with a flourish and vanishes. The house feels chilly and desolate in the extreme. Sir Maurice shivers and looks around with a feeling of disgust at the dreary room into which he had been ushered. The blinds are drawn down out of respect for the dead man upstairs. Sir Mau- rice wonders what manner of man be was to live in such a plaoe. He takes up 1h1s position on the hearthrug, with his back to the t1e- mal fire—a fire that seems to burn as it under protest—and flickers in a feeble ort of way, and gives out no heat, no warm, generous glow. Slr Maurice is regretting that he has come; he feels cold and tired and hungry. Tho eight of a sub- stantial dinner would restore his good temper; but It 1e a sight that he feels he le not likely' to wit- ness, Good dinners and this room would not harmonise. "1 wish I had got a hal at the hotel," or anywhere," he says to himself, pulling its moustache and frowning. "What a hole this 1s? And what on earth have I conte for?" Tho door -handle 1e turned gently, tho door opens, and out of the shadow beyond conies a slight, dark figure, slowly and hesitatingly, through the dim light into the faint flow of the fire. Until this moment Sir Maurice has quite forgotten the existence of the cousin who luta lived with Uncle Ben. He has never once thought of her, never wondered for a second what elle would be like, or anything about her. And the starts as she comee In quietly and walks right up to him. "I am very glad you hare Dome," tie hears a soft, girlish voice saying as he takes her hand In hie own. "I came as soon as ever I multi,'" he answers, trying to get a glimpse of her face In the darkness, "You aro not here alone?"' the continues, looking at her shadowy figure In the gloom ; ami (lin girl ane^;ers a¢ain, wearily this time, with a little dread la her low tones: "Yes, all Mono; and I have been so frightened all day and all night since--" "Yee, I know it was very bad for you to be here by yourself ; but I am here now, and I will do any- thing In my power to help you." "Thank you," and the short sen- tence ends with a little sigh. The door opens again, and the old woman appears with a lamp, which she eats upon the table. As if by one accord, the two stand- ing by the fire turn and look at each other. She sees a tali man with a grave (ace and kindly oyes; that le all she notes of Maurice Der- mot In this, the first look. And he, as his eyes rest on her uplifted face, gazes with a sort of amazement. Ile sees a face, but whether child's, ,girl's or woman's at thls first glance he cannot tell. He knows, however, that In all hie life he has never seen anything like it, that he has never Imagined any eyes 111re those uprais- ed to his In the shadowy light of the lamp. She is something utterly unlike anything he has ever seen to his smoothly regulat- ed life; anti at first he hardly knows if thin emelation 1:0 a pleasant one. This child or woman stands be- fore lnlm, small and lithe, and he can hoe a strange, wild beauty in her upraised face, Palo and brown It Is, and her hair is cropped quite short, and Iles to thick, dark rings. But her eyes strike him most ; they are lovely, great -brown eyes, long -lashed and dusky. He look* and looks Into the face raised to his, and then, like a frightened child, the color floods her face, her head droops, and he can see only the heavy, dark lashes on her cheeks. She Is beautiful. In all hie life he tae seen no beauty like this. He finds his voice at last. "You are my cousin;" ho says ; 'and I do not even know your name." theMpg," she answers. " I was 01- Y Gipsy." " And a very pretty name, too, thongh 1 do not think there was ever a Gipsy Dermot before." Bho does not speak for, a hnl.mte, and then she gays, timidly: " You must be tired and hungry ; would you like tea, or---" faltering and stopping. Sir Maurice leaps her out of the difficulty. "I should like tea very much," he w eevers, "May I have It with you?" "Yet," filpey replies; "and If you will come with me, I will show you your room." He follows lite young hostess rap the steircaee, aria on the landing she pauses. "He is in there," she whispers, pointing to n closed door. "Would you like to go In ?"—very gravely. "Oh, no 1" Sir Maurice answers, quickly. " You see, Gipsy, I never saw Uncle Iden alive, aid I would not like to see him now he IS dead." Gipsy draws a long breath. "I nm glad you, do not want to see him; I was afraid to go in myself." She turns her groat eyes upon him no she speaks, and they leek wild and unutterably mournful. 'I thought Made lien might think it unkind if I did not go and sits by him—Inn was so strange always; but 11 was ter- rible—he looked all changed, and I was frightened." "You poor child 1" Ife speaks very gently, and lays Ids hand on her slight shoulder, for lie can sec that she is terribly nervous and frightened even now. " You could do him no good now, Gipsy. Poor Unclo Ben 1 I do not wonder that you grieve for him." 'I ani not grieving,' she anewers, qutetly—',hot 111 the way you mean. We net er loved each other, Uncle Ben and 1, Do you know he did not speak to me for three ,months before he died 9' 'Good hent ens: Wne lte mull" Sir Maurice has raised hl* voice, and Gipsy starts and points to the closed door. Oh, hush—he is in there 1"—and site moves away, " Do not speak about nim now he is dead," she stye, la the sumo low, frightened voice. Look—this is your room," sho adds, with the first senile he has seen on her fade. " And I am afraid it le not a very nice room, but Ilutve made It as comfortable as I could," And then the flits away, leaving him standing bewildered, for there, 19 something almost unnatural about .its girl. " I never saw anything eo lovely In my life," Sir Maurice says to him- self. " And to think of her being burled here:" Miss Blake's peace of mind would be considerably disturbed could she but peep into this lonely house by the sad sea waves, and see Sir Maur- ice Dermot, some twenty minutes later, quite at home at the teatable, with this strange fairy-like little mortal with the dusky locks, and e, es whose marvelous beauty holds Sir Manrice's gaze as 1f by magic again end again. The ten la nut very good, the haven 711111 eggs are not very inviting. Gipsy crimsons em she pours out the teu, and for the first time In all her life the deficiencies of her surround- l.ngs drawn mh her. She knows in- stinctively that all this is not what her cuushl has been accustomed to, and she looks wistfully with shy eyes Into hiv Ince. "I wish I knew what you like," she toys, with artless simplicity, casting a displeased glance at the bacon and eggs. Sir Maurice smiles reassuringly at his hostess. "Do not trouble about me. Gipsy; I ihave everything 1 want. And now will you tell me eomothing about y,ursel( and Uncle Ben ?" There is not much to tell—only the story of a eelflsh old man, who hoard- ed and saved, and shut up hie heart from tho lovev and friendships of the world—nth, nobody ever knew, never will know ; he died, and made no sign. Gipsy tells it all in hes' simple, child- like frisltlon, not varnishing or adding to the tale, hal Just giving every- thing its It happened. "And I came home and found hien lying dead," she finishes, and then there is a pause, • le"lWl"hat a lonely life you must have Sir Maurice looks over at the young- face as he speaks; and she answers, with a deep *oedema uow 1 "I was never lonely while Sibyl hued." " Sib1 I ! Who was she?" Maurice etas; and then he stops, for her eyes are full of tears But she does not answer till Ilia low, Dad vobo Is steady again. "She was my sister, and we lived here always, and I wes never lonely till fiuole Pen sent her to cahoot ; amt he told me she would come back ; but she never deli I oat' hod every day, but she never Dame back any 1110e'0. And---" Glpey clasps her small hands together, het whole face quivers, and Slr Maurice sees tears gathering fast under her eyelashes as she goes on slowly, "and one day Uncle Ben told me Sibyl was dead ; and he seemed so angry because elm died, and he told me never to mention her name again ; and I never have, only to my- self, till tonight" (To be Continued,) +4+44+44444444+44,444444+ ++ I IS A LONG FALL REALLY PAINFUL? ++44+414+44-I. 4444*H4444444 The terrible aceldonts to balloon- ists that have occurred lately, and the rapid advance t>d oho air -ship, which residers travel In the air by no means ttnprobablo for the ma- jority In, the near future, have aroused the questions: le one who falls from a great height, conscious of his downward flight r, Does Ids tremendous velocity earthward, gathering swiftness with every one hundredth of a second, render him Insensible'! Is be, la fact, suffocated by his inability to inhale the air through which he descends? Or, on the other hand: Hoes he know lie le flying down to Inevitable death? Does he at tine Instant of his final lmpaot with the earth or water suf- fer for the briefest imaginable per- iod Immcasureable tortures? It is common belief that people fal- ling from great heights die in the act of descent. An Interview with a sailor who fell from the topgallant yard of an Eaet Indianian, a height of 120 feet, fo- to the water, elicited the fact that during the descent In the air sensa- tion entirely disappeared, but re- turned in a slight degree when he reached the water ; he was, however, still unable to strike out when rising to the surface. Prof. Herrn, of Zurich, goes further then most other physicians. He main- tains that death by falling from a lofty height is a pleasant means of ending existence. Prof. HIrn relined elld dawn a mild of the Alps soma years ago. He slipped on a shhow- noverel crag, and fell feet first. The wind dashid hiin against an inclined cliff and he end down this on hie Mick, head first, for nearly a mile, lacerating lite lands in au attempt to check his speed. Tireughou1 alt tide shell. g and fall- ing, his thoughts n -ere clear, hie mind calm, nett his ears delighted with celestial harmonies. He thought of the sleek when he should strike tho bottom, and he foresaw that lois opo11 g 1,u tura nt the university five du�ir henry would have to be post - neat or nhandoned, When he etrnek the ground he (deride heard the sharp creek of his head and the tiled of hie body- It set in 1 to 110 that a large black • ohlevt was rushing past him, and he cried out, "It didn't hurt m0 a bit ! It didn't hurt mo a hit I" Great was hie surprise to learn that 1119 ex- clematlon was not uttered until halt an hour of unconeclonsness. Three examples would seem to in- dlcnte that to be in an acchfent in mid-nlr would he bete painful, it more, tragic, than being In it railway ar'I- dent.—Household Words. COMPLETELY LAID UP A Contractor Confined to His Bed With Kidney Trouble Ile is Metter \ow and Writes an Interestlug Letter Telling of Ills Recovery and Hew It Came About. Toronto, Ont., Sept. 1.—lSpeoll10- There ere few men in the west end of tints city who aro mora widely and mote favorably known, than Mr, W. J. I.: tam', 88 Lippincott street, who for years has conduetcd a badness au builder anti contrac- tor. Some five or six years ago Mr. Kone was a very seek man. He had Kidney Trouble, which def el- oped until ho sena absolutely ua- ahl0 to leave hie bed. Mr. Krone found a cure where so ninny sick and suffering ones have found it, in Dodd's Kidney Pills, and has given for publication the fol- lowing written statement: "1 deem it a great pleasure to give my experience of Dodd's Kid- ney Pills and the good they have done raw. I wile a great sufferer tviltt purine in my back, and used to he often so laid up as to be unable to do my work. "A Mend adthied Dodd's Kidney Pills, but as I had used so many other medicines without any good results, I had ilttlo faith in any- thing. However, I got some of the . p'lis and commenced the treatment. I had only need part of the Pint box when I was able to resume my work. "I used altogether 'seven boxes, and I can say that I was com- pletely cured, aid as this was over four years ago, and the trouble has not returned in any form, I feel safe an saying that my cure was perfect and permanent. "I believe l'oht's Kidney P,ite Raved me from death. They are certain- ly worth their weight In gold to a sick man." What has done so much for Mr, Keane and many others le oertnln- ty worth a trial by those who may be suffercrg from Kidney Disease or any of its consequences. WHY THE PRINCE NEVER COMES It remains for a man to explain why some girls peter receive pro. pewits of marriage. This particular man Is a bachelor, eligible, and a student of woman- k:ad. Ile Is positive that it Is not clue to the scarcely of men that so many loving, good looking girls re- main single. Instead, it is because they do not live up to the ideal in the nand of the modern young man. "Mannishness, a characteristic, wlrr..h many girls like to exhibit ndwadaye," he declares, is without doubt a great drawback to a girl'e chances of getting married. "Then, there is the careless, in- dolent girl, who takes an interest In nothing beyond her own pleasur- able pursuits. Pretty and acoom- plished,she never lacks partner at a danoe, pat men recognize the fact that she lacks educnton In the du - dos which would be hers as a wife. She thinks only of lsercelf, while the man wants her to conedder his comfort and (happiness. "Then, there aro the cold girls. They may be clever and agreeable, but they receive the adances of a man-inthe haughty. thrilling min- i nor, leading him to believe they are ' not worth winning. He prefers the girl wko le more amiable. "Neither does man like girls who are too shy. They are usually awk- ward am a consegaencee, and un:e- terertin,t, 'Probably the girl a man letet liken Is the Welled. She believes a perfect man is waiting for her somewhere +lows life's hlghway,and mikes a practice of suuhbing a fel- low as soon as she deckles he is not that paragon. Iuetted of trying to see him at his best, sho tries to make lain feel that In her eves lin is only the common or garden variety of man. STUIIIFS IN PExAI:. A "matt. Is the most sensible ..1 all animals, Is he not :"' "Certainly." "Then. I wonder why he doesn't wear n iis,ve, roadortnble roller, like ti dog's."—Washington Star. History Re -written. Mnitomet has Just gotten off his little aphorism, "Ienewledge is pourer." "V ery good," exclaimed the Grand Vizier. with a green look. "Then ,lo we understand that horse oeuse is torso power ?" This being too much for the great prophet, ho went forth and re - enforced himself with a pony. Tho Ahkoond of Swat was taking boxing lessons when the' professor scolded Ido tor not making the proper defence, "But," insisted the effete men - arch, "you must remember I do not know what 'swat.'' The boxer, conceding the logic of the point, got his revenge In rt beautiful solar plexus. Caesar Inas struggling vainly to find the keyhole when ealphurnla stuck her head out of 11' window and asked lira nbat was the mat- ter. "Don'teh 'er know," he celled an- grily. "that (8,00 rub wife should be above ehusple,un ?" The next day ho was observed studying the time table for Da- kota. Lord .hi ',Ill,' , 1 UT known as tier John Lnbheek• the scientist, has leen teaching his dog to read. Hs lots progressed so ter that "Van" finis n card with "out" printed on it when hr wishes to go for a walk, and pick,/ out other cordo to the some fashion.