HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Blyth Standard, 1902-09-18, Page 3***************4
0IPSY'S 11ARRIA0E
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"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,)
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I IS A LONG FALL
REALLY PAINFUL?
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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.