HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Clinton News-Record, 1904-06-09, Page 22
'Oct Me Most
Out of Your Food
You don't and can't it your stemxoh
le Wetti. A weak Sterna& acne not di-
gest all that is ordinarily taken into it.
It gets tired easily, and what it WO te
digest ie wasted.
Among the signs of a.:Weak Stomach
are uneasiness after eating, fits of ner-
Yowl headache, and disagreeable belch -
Ing.
" X have been troubled with dyspepoia for
years, and tried every remedy k bore of,
but never got anything that gave me reliet
until I took Hood's Sarsaparilla. I cannot
praise this medicine tea Wetly for the good
It bee done me. I always take it in the
spring and fall and would not be without
It." W. A. Noma, Belleville, Ont.
Ifood's Sarsaparilla
Strengthens and tones the stomach and
the whole digestive system.
eenroasessecese — •• . !VP I
************.•••••••••
—
* '
* •
Northern
NOW Seen
Noithern Grown Seeds
are known to be su-
perior to any other,being
earlier, hardier and more •
nroducive.
•
/ • We are selling these
4 seeds at the same. price
as the big departmental I
• stores.
• .
•
2c a Package. t.
15 Packages for 25e
33 Packages for 50c
68 Packages for $1.00
• Make out your list.of
* Vegetable and Power
Seeds and bring it to our
store. We have the lar- .
igest variety to choose /
.from. In ordering by ±
mail send postal note. Z
I****4•••••••••••••
H. B. Combe,
Cheinist and Druggist] •
• 40**************.******
, .
MANY (-AIL, are receited from
business firms and many stueents are;
placed in good positiOns .each year ,by.
the famoss •
CENTRAL
STRATFORD.. ONT.
•
-‘ This school stands forile highest
and best in business education in •Pari
aea. lcdays Many bilsieess cO)legeS
employ our graduates as teachers: We •
have scores of -applies:Liens...from other
colleges. Ask to see them the .day:you
enter: Commence • course .new.
. .W 3 ELr1XOI f, Prineipat..
• ••• 1••{L•uI.eiI 4.11 111 .U1 11.i 11 • 1 11 J
e
S'•'s
oung
The Clinton News -Record 3nue 9th 1004
By Charles Garvice
Author of
•"A Modern Juliet,"
sTrust
w • unce in a Life."
•
:6 • "Better Than Life,"
' 40e's
•
EsKON•':4 t:•cto1=•11,•=t;.(e?"=.*C1.14'14W.W.4..),K0.4(.3•V•Ws1),(*)ii•W•W•
iTital happy-go-lucky voice was
grave, hls .deboneir air bad deserted
him, at any rate, for the moment.
"Why, of course," assented Ber-
nard; "and I can have the money?,
Thank you, sir."
"Of course, of course," said $ir
Terence. There was a moment's eil-
price then. Looking at his cigar criti-
cally, he • said: . "Anti there is noth-
ing between this reigning beauty and
you, eh, 13ernie?"
:Bernard did not reply very prompt-
ly, and Sir Terence glaneed up . at
hintwith a fe.int smile.
."Eh, my bey?"
"No," said Bernard, at last. His
voice was grave. "I—well, I thought
there might have been; but— No,
there is nothing, sir." •
"Well, well," said Sir Terenbe,,"it's
rather a pity, isn't'it?. I suppose sho
is an heiress, front all I hear?" .
. Bernard shook his head. •
."No, no," ho said. "Miss Demerol
has no fortune. That I know. None
whatever.
Sir Terence started.
••"You are sure . there • is nothing be-
tween you? Thank od
. Bernard 'looked surprised. It • had
never occurred to hint thatbis fath-
er should want hitn to marry money.
Why should • he? Was not he, Bernard,
heir to .the Yorke estates, and there -
fere -free from thenecessity of 'play-
ing the part of fortune-hunters? •
Sir Terence saw the look of sur-
.
prise, and .coughed,
. "I—I mean,"he said, baStilY, as
if to -dispel the impression his words
had prodtieetts.s"I meats that—. Well,
you .know, Bernie, money is always.
useful, and, .a .girl's none the: worse '
for haVidg a •dower, '
. "But my wife need haisi mane,.
sir," said Bernard. ••• ••• .
"No, no; of course . not," said Sirs
Terence,. quickly;. nut his lip twitch-
ed again: •• "Just so s as. 'you •say.
What capital. cigars' flu* are, my
boy!"
.• .
"You . have let that One go out.
'retire another, .Sie," said Bernard;
and he got 611 his perch on the arm
of the chair, selected a fresh one-
• with dare, and lighted a match.. '
• The baronet's hand trembled. slight-
ly as he -took it but 13ernard end
• „ ,
net:notice it. , • .
• 11Yes," be laid,as ifho. Were pur-
suing 'a . line of thought without re-.
Ferenc° • tis, Bernard's .speeiti1. caseL-
s"yes,'it's.'as easy 'to. fall in love with •
a :girl with ',money as with -one who
hasn't any. - Gad!". the fanous ,stuile
lighted 'up his face fora .monierit,
. .
.."it's- easy °hough to fall -in love
With *ell of them. .Sp I say, Bernie,.
dont-sers-that is— -My, . he
broke off, With, sudden seriotisness,'
•"X want. you to promise mg siirnes
•
th' "
• •
"All right, -Ir," sald Bernard,
•readily. "What 'is ,it?'Ss,
LADIES'
RINGS
Of -100 Ladiea., 90' at lest
prefer Rings -
kind of Jewelry. For .this
reason we pa:y spectar atten-
tion to this line.;
You will find all the favor-
_
3te Stones and combinations
at their best.with us.
D I A.MON PEARLS,
'E HERALDS, RUBIES.
SA PPI1 I RES, OPALS,
OLIVINES, TURQTJOIS,
•
Every Ring at its very best
both as to value and, oual-
,
ity.
A. J. Grigg,
JEWELER, AND 'OPTICIAN, •
No Horne is
so iittra,ctive
but that , artistic
photos will improve
it.
No mat.* how
much youenjoy your
home, photogarph,s of
your friends and
members of your lam).-
ily will increase your
pleasure. We can
make you a beautiful
characteristic pict-
ure.
f16011r8 PHOTO ST111110.
,p4.41111111116,
"That ,y�w won't go and get • eit-
tangledengagedwithout coming to
me first. Is' lit too much to ask?
Well, :perhaps it is. . By George!"
with: a burst, of Irrepressible candor,
••••1 wouldnt havo. given ink father
Such a premise; and therfore
oughtn't to ask you." '
• "Oh,:that's different," said • Per -
nerd, with a smile. "I'll promise
you that, sir." .
kind to -night. Never mind; you can
take me to the theatre."
"I'd take you to—to the other end
of the world, Lady Fanny," he said,
his gray oyes (lancing, as only an
Irisbman's can; but Ita engaged to
Bernard here."
"Never mind: both of you come.
Lady Winshire's box, the Haymarket.
Now, don't you say you will, and
go and forget it, .as you generally
"My clear Lady Fanny!"
"Oh, yes, you do, you dreadful
man! Mr. Yorke, I hope yon won't
grow up like your father—the most
insincere"—she dropped her voice—
"`delightful mart! Isp't he perfectly
lovely?"
All the way up Ficcadilly: it was
like a tritiMphal progress, and Sir
Torence's hat brim must have been ,
4
sorely tried.
Then, suddenly, just after he had
left a dowager duchess, the smile left
his face, the laughing Speech to Ben -
nerd died away on his lips.
Bernard looked up and. saw Lord
Stoyle' sauntering along the other
side of the roan, in his languid,
dawdling fashion. . •
Sir Terence touched the brim Of his
hat then „pulled up sheet. .
"i forgot" he said, in a grave.
voice—"1. !ergot that money vou owe
Stevie, Bernie." he ,said.
. he hesitated' and looked at his watch
forgot a little appointment T'd
mane, 1 :must 'go. Let no see. Yes,
• I'll • join yon at the..'club at eight
O'clock. Will that do?" •
Bernard looked .at his .puddenly.
grave. face With surprise, and . Sir
Terence forcecl. a ethile. • .
• "Only a little bit of Inisineas, • my
boy," he said, "Till eight 'o'elo.ck!"
• He laid his hand affectionately on
Bernard's straight, strong shoulder,
looked at hith with .a strangely wist-
ful gaze, • and then up and down the
read, as if for a hansom; but as if. •
changing his Mimi, he Walked on.'
But . when he. had got round a eore •
nee.. he beckoned a cab, and. told t•ho •
anon to .drive him. to.. 99 .'Guilford
• street, . '
Now Cluilfor? street is anything .
• t a faeht ona.b e street, end. the cab-.
. ma.n, . staring at • the beautifully
•dressed. old -swell,'.' as he mentally
designated him, . repeated the • direc- •
Von. questioningly. . •
' • "Yes, Guilford. street! . said sir.
• Terence: endbe leaned back irr the -
cab and sighed.
. .
As, the horse. :dashed along, the
.cheerful face grew• graven Mid 'sadder,
until by • the time' the •West, End had.
been left behiad. and • 'Bleat -ninth%
: 'reached. it had • •beeoine 'cleite. grayand
lined with care, and. so • unlike 'Abe'
careless, debonair. ,eosestenance
'ergreers' Yorke that hie friends -would
.scarcely have recogrdierl' it••••
The •ersh pulled up :at the • door of
sne of the heavy, substantial houses
which characterize Guilford street,
. and Sir Terence got out. As he paid.
the fare, his hand shook slightly—
the cabman :thotight to himself:."Old
swell been on the spreer-sbut, it
shook stiik .moro- as he .• slowly es-
cended the steps .and. Pulled the -bell, :
aad wiping his *face with his • hand -
...kerchief, Sir Terence murranred: • • •
• "My poor Bernard! if he knew" 'Then 'suddenly the : entile.. -Vanished, . •
for Ale thought of. Nance Grey. But
he tried to put the 'Vision of the
tevely face, With its auburn hair
• and violet:eyes, away from hint. Ha
knew that he coeld not marry Nana
Grey..
"Bight". said *Sir Terenee, as if
:.he. were shaking off seine particul-
arly unpleasant mental burden;
that right. And n�w, my' bOY,
:what shall we do? I shatit : go
back till to -morrow,. and -I've all
the rest of the' day free," And he
extended his hands and rubbed them,
laughing 'like a school -boy out fora.
spree. • .
Bernie laughed too.
"We'll go for a stroll, if yoalike,
sir," he said; "and then you shall
dine with inc.at the club, and you
can got ioine whist -s"
. "Good said the baronet, spring-
ing up with the alacrity Of a young
man. ,"Coine on!" • '
' They went out- arm in arm, the
baronet with his hat a little en ono
side—why didn't les look vulgar, like
Mr. Grey?—and with • his handsomeNee bearning. • They met friends and
aeqoaintances on the road; and • one
and all had a warm greeting • for
Evergreen Sir Terence. Ladies driv-
ing by ittopped their carriaos 'to
shake hands with 'that dear Sir
Terence."
Lady Winshire was among these,
and as 13ernard said, when they parts'
etdtouching
ng.her, their meeting was quite
"So you are up in tewn,againi You
bad man!" she exclaimed, smiling
down at him as ho stood bareheaded
In the fine, old-fashioned way.
"Yes, Lady Winshire, I'Ve come to
take care of this boy of mine," said
Sir Terence, preSsing Bernie's ern,
fondly.
"Indeed! Hovr touching! And pray,
who is going to take caro of you?"
she retorted, laughing. "How long'
are you going to stay? You must
Como and see me. COMe noW, and
have some tea; I'm going home."
"Shell I?" said Sir Terence; and
he put his hand oh the handle of the
doer. Then he seemed to remem-
ber something, and Snook his head
with a sigh. "I'd forgotten—and who
Wouldn't forget?—that I'd an engage-
ment," he said, wistfully,
"Some mischief, of course," re-
marked her ladyship. "Well, come
soon; bring him, Mr. Yorke."
A few yards further on theY • met
Lady Fanny Howard on horseback,
and that "smart" young lady drew
up With an exclamation of delight.
"Oh, how jolly!" she ejaculated,
quite loudly enough to be heard all
down St. James's street. "Why, I was
just thinking of you, Sir Terence."
"There now!" he exclaimed, beam-
ing on her, "and it Was of yourself I
Wa9 thinking, Lady Panne."
They had not met for menthe.
"I'm no glad to see you. Does fent-
or know you are in town? Come and
dine with tie to -night. You're the on-
ly Wicked young Man he iiesoelatee
with, you knoW." Sir Terence grin -
n .,
ed. 'Oh, 1 forgot, he hats a miii-
elottart sitteetinK or StalethintSote'er
CHAPTER "VIL
. Sir Terence rang twice' before the
door was opened by a sour -looking
tnaid-servant dressed 111 lack,• who,
,in response to Sir Terence's ques-
tion: "Is Ur. Harwood at " honae?"
demanded his 'name. . •
"Er—tell, him that a gentleman
Want e to see 'him," said Terence, al- .
ter a. Moment's hesitation. •• •
• She left hira• standing an the hall,'
and presently returned and showed
him intira room on the ground lloor.
It wets a large, sombre apartment,
paneled in .hlaok oak half -way to the
'coiling; the ,furniture Was dark and •
heavy, the curtains Were drawn, and
the only light was afforded by a
paraffinlamp of not the. most bril-
liant kind. .
Seated at 'a table littered with pa
-
pees and books; Was a tall, gaunt
man with iron -gray hair, and Small,
piercing .eyee overhung by thick
black brows. His face was colorless
sind cadaverous, his lips thin' and
harsh,' hie whole aspect, hard and for-
bidding. • . .
• One sometimes sees sack men walk-
ing through •the by -wive of the City;
Walking with beat head and absorbed
manner which proclahns, as loudly as
if they shouted, "I worship Moneyt
moneyl only ntoneyi"
• •Ile :was dressed in blaelt, relieved
only bY a tall, old-fashiehed collar
Which touched his hard, square ehin.
This man's name was Stephen
Harwood, and though he looked
Years older than Evergreen Yorke, he
Was several years younger than the
light-hearted, debonair baronet. Not
that Sir Terence looked partieularly
light-hearted or delSonair at that mo-
ment.
Ito raised the small, piercing eyes
as Sir Terence entered the room and
kept them fixed on him with a kind
of impassive scrutiny.
"Row' do you do, Stephen'?" said
Sir Terence, holding out his hand,
and forcing a smile and a semblance
of his usual cheeriness. "Gadi there's
starcely light enoagh to see hoW
you're looking;" and ho blinked at
the meagre lamp. " '
"There'e light enough for me,"
said Stephen Harteocid, in a cold, re-
pelling voice, as he just touched Sir
Terence's hand with a long, thin
claw. "Sit down;" and he nodded to
one of the stiff, uncontfortable chairs.
Sir Terence dropped into it, and
looked round the sombre, melancholy
room ruefully.
"Why the deuce do you shut out.
the light, and why do you live
this gloomy house? It's only fit for
a black beetle, or—or a. mute," he
added; the latter personage ibeing
suggested, perhaps, by the tall black
figure and cadaverous face opposite
him,
"X am not fond of the light; the
belie° suits the," Was the retort,
"and as I do not ask rnsi triends to
share it with Me, 1 ant free to fol-
low thy inclitlations,"
ugertainbil certainlYr" aesented
Sir Terence, With alacrity. "Wilt
rude of me to make a remark; but-%,.
well. upon my soul, Stephen, you've
got a queer taste!"
"Have you come hero to censure
my taste, Sir Terence?" demanded
Stephen, as cirylV as before, and with
the keen eyes still fixed on $ir Ter-
ence's face.
"No, no! Bless me, how you take
e you come for?" asked
Stephen Harwood, his hands clasped
on the table, his brows lowering
with impatience. "I am a busy
rnari—''
"X knoW! I know!" interrupted
Sir Terence. "You always were.
Though. why the deuce you should
work yourself to skin and bone—"
The piercing eyes glowed with mo-
mentary resentment.
"That is my business. It's because
It pleases me," was the response.
"We can not all be idle drones, cum-
bering the earth, and. wasting our
substance. But I've no wish to
quarrel, Sir Terence. What is your
businese, for business, and not plea-
sure, brings you here?"
Sir Terence shrugged his .shOulders,„
as if he recognized thet it Was use-
less to attempt reconciliation.
"Yee, We business, sure enough,"
he said, with a sigh. "I want sonic)
more money, Stephen."
Harwood leaned back and nursed
his square, hard chin with his long:
thin hand. '
•'You want more money?" he said, •
slowly and :gratingly, "Has the last
gone already?"
" 'Deed and it has," he said, vrith
a sigh, "It doesn't take long to go,
especially when it's nearly all ow-
ed," he ,continued. "What with the
interest always falling due, and the
bad rents, the poor devils of. farmers
can't pay half the time." .
"Then turn them Out and get those
, who can in their place," came the
hard retort.
"Turn 'eel Out!" echoed Sir Ter- '
enee, half sadly, halt indignantly;
"turn out the poor fellows that
have been on the place • for genera -
••tions! Dash it, Stephen, I can't do
that! T1 ' • • wheny ,
they•ancl their fathers. They're part
and parcel of the place. Turn 'em
out because we're having a spell of
bad times! Why, man, ell the dead'
and 'gone Yorkes would rise their
gravee to cry shame on me! No! no! '
You—you see, You don't : under-
St'attiNt;".P.erhaPs not,".. said Stephen,
with grim sarcasm . "Fin not 'the
baronet and • pf .Sparshire.
am .only a plain mail of business. Is
that what you! inean?. Because if you
do, you are. quito.right." - •
. "There's no need to—to put it so
• offensivelY, I meant no sneer;, Steph-;
• en. Wg are as God .niade us: •
"No; we are as we • make ottr-
selves,". said Stephen, Coldly.: "But
perhaps' you are . rights and . Prods
. • .
.• •
dence. intended that .you and % -yew:
fathere before S,Ou should be spend-
• theifte, ciod that should make and
Value the motley. you -and yeurs fling
into the, gutter." . .
'There, therel'S Said Sir Terence,.
in • . a vale. • attenipt at soothing:
• "IVe're. a bad lot, .1 dare say; but --
buts -wen, . well, you must .let Ine
have the money, Stephen. I• wiat it.
bad y.. I'm .in eti :b Xi, • '
with the rents not -coming in, isnd•-•
4.11Ilr'. coughed'. and' 1061(0 •• :• alre6rit':
piteously at the item tate before.
him. •
...And your son's and your -own •OX-
travagance,". finished sSteplien Hars
wood. "1 suppose this money for ,
him as well as yourself—to pay' his
gambling or other. debts."
Sir
stablesS.it's.-4it's • • • :
Said., depeeoatinely-4-"deuced hershlY;
You 'put it..hiu•shiy; Stephen," he
Terence .tvinc.. ed. s
If—if the boy has o.voreun. the cora-
' "IV esin his blood—he Is only fol -
:bowing the example of his fathers
and so is excusable!" Said Stephen,
"I meant ' that . was no • worse
. • than other young , fellows," said Sir
Terence:. ”Ile's the best. the straight-
est -'-Stephen, te hen • I " w IA • You could see
: •knOw him. You like him; • I
know you . weelds ITe's as handsome
. its an Apollo; •eed grows More
his mother ever d y "• •• •
It was an unfortunate remark, and
-Sir Tereece knew it.the moment he
:had ,said it, for he istopped aghast
at the sudden change which came 0,
Stephen's face and manner. .
Hitiwood's hand. dropped from 'the
chair and fell, clinched, noiselessly on
the table; a dark red stiffused tne caT.
daverous .face, and a swift fire flash-.
•'ed in the Sunken eyes.: .
"More like the *onion whe •jilted
the for you!" exelaimed, ahnoet
inaudibly, but With a fierce resent -
merit 'and. anger. You are Wise to •
•remind are of the past, Sir Terence.
very 'wise, especially when you, •come •
to ask a favor." •• , •
"Upon thy soul, r beg your ' Par-
don, Stephen," said Sir Terence re-
morsefully and with a• certain and
dignity which should have totichee
the man he addressed, but .which on
ly added fuel to the lire.; .
"The' woman you stole. from me,"
continued Stephen Hartvoodi bitterly..
"I am sorry. It slipped out.
didn't mean to remind yeti, to .open
old sores, Stephen.. Heaven and
earth, 'than, X—I thought you'd for-
gotten—that you'd. :cetteed to bear a
grudge 'about poor Lucy year's. ago."
"X never forget," retorted Stephen,
betWeett his • teeth, "It is all very
well for the man who works the in-
jury, does the; wrong, the happy
inan,to talk of forgiveness, but the
man he. has robbed, do .you think he•
does not remember? I tell you, Ter..
ence, that while. I live--" He stopped,
as if ashamed of his emotion, and
waved his hand agitatedly. .
I "I am sorry, sorry," saki Sir Ter.
once; regretfully. "I had no Idea
that—that--you nursed' your resent-
• ment like -this, Stephen. Why—why,
you married—"
It was another unfortunate to -
mark, And .quite worthy of Sir Ter-
enee, who was ono of thoile. Men
who are always "putting their foot
in it." He inight have remembered
that the man to whom he was speak-
ing had driven his wife and child
from him by his coldness and evil
temper. '
. Stephen Harwood's face greW dark
and his thin lips twitched. Ire Seem-
ed to be utterly' incapable of speech
for a moment, and his hands clinched
and unelinclied as they pressed on the
nittlie'by(Lelbo6u'uasvipenleesasseq; shlietits•Sa.id. Sfy"rit'vhiP:570 Itteliat
my domestic •affairs altme.
me, with her child, of her own free
will. I3ut to business"—he broke off
harshly. "You and your son Want
Money again. You come nie, as
you would to any man who hite it,
to borrow this money. You know
how much you oWe me already?"
Sir Terence shrugged his shoulder
old. blinked at tho lam",
0
's•
"Patth, I can't say I do to the
penny; it must be a 'Argo .sun, Ste-
phen. I come to you because, well,
you offered, to lend me money, and.
well, 1 don't want the world to
know that I am up a tree. You're an
old friend and will keep the secret."
"Yes, I ant A relation," said Ste-
phen, "and your secret is safe with
me.
Ho had fallen back and was nursing
his chin again, and his eyes wore a
cold, calculating expression.
"Does your son know that you have
borrowed money of me, and the
amount?" he siced, after a pause.
"What, Bernard? Oh, well, no!" re-
sponded %Sir Terence, promptly. "No,
no; why shoulci • be know, poor boy?
What the deuce would be the use of
making his life miserable? It began
before he was old enough to under-
stand—"
"And you have kept hini in ignor-
ance?" said Stephen, musingly,his
thick brows completely Sha,dines his
eyes. "Does he know that the eotail
Is cut' off? That this money is bor-
rowed on what he considers his inher-
itance?"
There was a covert sneer in the
toile in which the 'question was put
that Inade Sir Terence winde. , •
"NO," he said, with a, groan. "He
doesn't know. Why should I tell him?
Theme's—there's no harm done, is
there, Harwood? Times will get bet-
ter, 1 can save—I shall be able to
clear the estate before I die."
'Stephen. Harwood looked at the
baronet with a grim fixedness. I
"I see," he said. "Perhaps you .are '
right. So he is quite ignorant and
dings the money in the gutter in the
og,rannod; rsholdiswnayo?wAohrsio"
than—than
others. He must live like his
panions. What else can he do? Be-
sides, he May marry money—"
• I
"Yes, your kind make good ter- .
tune -hunters," remarked Stephen Her -
wood, with a Sneer. •
Sir 'Terence's face Cushed and his
:bl.u.,eLuecyyes be said, •
tnn• ft i
ne •spoice his • Sir Terenee; • "Immediately after this Nance to Loy place amusement.
•-dead wife's. names
• rubber. Sorry to go, Grandison, but Al!•her life she bad' beret accustom- '
, Stephen Harwood's eye gleamed
my boy s word's my. own," ed. to go her own way, solitary,...
and his teeth bared fiercely.
Artn in arm they walked from ' the alcine,' and unfriended. •
j,
brightly. and he hummed an air from
write Mascotto." People looked. at
him as he tripped along swinging his
stick, a Rower in- his button -hole and
smiled in synipathy with the happy,
handsome old man.
Bernard had asked one or two men
weeds of Ids father, 801110 of thern
to dine with them—some of them old
younger men. SII' Terence and the
youngsters always got on together,
for lie was as youthful as most of
them, notwithstanding his age.
"Halloo, Bernie!" he exclaimed,
laying his hand on Bernard's shoul-
der and pressing it affectionately.
"Here I .aml Up to time, I hope!
Ahl• Granclison! And here's George,
too! How aro you all? Delighted to
see you.' Well, well! how jolly this
ie!"
Ile was the life 9f the party. There
was no shadow on his brow of the
cloud that had rested there so heavily
during his interview with Stephen
Harwood, Ile was as full ofanec-
dotes as an egg is full of meat; wit
of the rare old kind sparkled in his
epigrams, and made the lads catch
something of his spirit and reflect
something of his delicate humor. It.
was the merriest, most delightful lit-,
tie party, thanks to him, and ono
that was remembered by every mem-
ber of it. Bernard looked on with all
yotng man's .pride it such a fath-
er, and it was touching to see hew
now and again Sir Terence's love for
lilin' Would show itself by some word
of affection, some tisuch of the hand
or geeture as he.addressed
Sir Terence -went into the card -
room, and got some whist, and there
presently Bernard came to him..
met Lady Barkley after I left
you, father, and she wants you to
look in at her hop to -night."
"Eh?" said- Sir -Terence. "Well—"
Ile was enjoying his whist; and
hesitated with a whimsical look on
his face. .• .• '
• "I promised for you, sir," said
. Bernard. .
"You did! Bight, my boYr." said
CONTINUE
. Tilos° who are galningfiesh
and utrenuth by reuular treat..
inent with
Scott's Emulsion
ehould continue the trsistment
in het weather! smaller dose
and a little cool milk it will
do away with any oslection
which Is attached to frsty pro-
ducts during the seated
season.
Sow for free sannes. •
SCOW & la)%41,1E, Chgehto,
Torooto,Ontario.
soc. end fiaot all dru3.4s
e
IIMIIMenCIIMIrrrAIMMINANYIPUMMINOMPOimall•MMINAIII
.1.411044/C,4,76. ,.1=1.41.ouril.susta4CM,—TaWat
.„
: "Of, course, sir," said Bernard,
wringing his hand. "Good -night end
good-bye,"
OTIAPTISat VIII. •
On the afteraoon of the following
day Nance, Was sitting at her work.
The sun was sinking slewly behind
the houses of the rich aristocratic
West Find, anil casting a mellow
glow of light upon the river and the
trees along its bank.
The -day had been warm, and Nance
•was tired of the small room, the
trying work, the loneliness which she
had suddenlygrown to realize—since
yesterday,
It would bo -pleasant to walk along
by the river, to get away, if she .
could, front her own thoughts, from
the vague' aching of. wistful restless -
nese which. at intervals all through
the day had forced her to stop at
her work 'and wrappecl her in a "
dream. - • •
• Girls di her class • oceasienglly go
• to the theater, or some entertain
-
went of a cheap kind; but Nance had
never been inside a theater, or heard '
• a concert, exceptipg • that of the band
in the park,
When Mr. Grey bad anymoney to ,
spend, he spent It in the "parlor" of
his favorite public -house, and he
would never have • dreamed of taking
. "NO; the. (attune .arid• title -hunting
was on heis.sida; she threw -oVer pbain Sie Tet•ence was .at orice.'phinged xnto aneens.. isms. . of , the: hardship :of her
Stephen Harwood 'for Sir . Terence ...a. group of old. and. .iiew 'friends.. BerLs life... She eVen ;ionised. forward to the
.Corinthian to Lady Barkleies, and
Aug (-lie made no complaint, was
Yorke the baronet. TItere was good
reason." . • • ,d t ntd
r 1 t lk'
"There was; she loved me arid—"
"II t d " b k • Harwood
the veins swelling on his forehead.
•:"Enough! I thaught that you had
come to borrow mone-y, not to in -
suit rne.'!.
"I—I bog your pardon," said Sir
Terence, rising. "I didn't collie 'to in
-
suit you, and I did conic to borroW
rnonesi; but—yes, by the Lord! I'ro
rry I• did. I will not ask you
aeairs.- As for the old scores, I'll .
. pinch and. scretv and .pay.yoU back."
Harwood's band went up to his
chin again, and he peered cunningly
at the flushed and indignant face. •
"Don't. be' in a hurry,". he. said, in
a dry. Soice, :"You were a fool to.
ealto up old grudges, to recall tha
past, 1 didn't refuseto lend you this .
niciney: How Much is it?" .
Sir. Terence thought fora moment.
His pride revolted .igainst receiving
ang, .fui titer favors Ji om ,tbis mailand yet --and , •
t. might wlth
• -truth haresaid that it is thelaCk of .
'money that makes cowards cif tis
"I 'want five , thousand pounds, •
- Harwood,"! he said, reluetantly..
Stephen Harwood looked • at %him
..tvith a grim smile.
"It is well 1'am a rich num," he •
said: • • •
"Thank your stars. for :it, and try
said Terence: like .an
:ti ishzn alt
• Stephen Ilarwcsod bit his: lip. •
"Sly ehanbe of happiness fled years
ago,. he said. ."But yOn Shall have
the money." Ile rose, and unlocking
a sae, took out. a check -book, end a.
roll of parchment. -He filled in the
chock slowly' and metliodicatly, thee
opened the parchment and inserted a •
line in a blank spece, bleoted it tare -
frilly, and. held out the quill pen. to,.
• bir Terence: • . • ,
•:"Sign hate," he said., • . I '
Sir. 'Terence took the pen. and bent .
weer the parchnierit. . •• •
"What. is it?'t he asked, with • the
pen to the paper. • '
. mortgage deed; the old one .
said 'the other impassively. "I left,'
blank spaces for the.insertion of any
other gums you migiit wint; you see
I know yoa well enough to be sure
that you would come to me again." !
.• "Ay!" said Sit Terence, with a
• sigh. "Whit's the mnount, Harwood, ;
the sum -total?" Stephen IlarwoOd knit his broWn. I
"I ilcin't remeniber," lie said. "I ,
ecin add it up, if you like:" .
"Oh,. faith, it doesn't matter," Said
Sir Terence, .almost gayly; "knowing
it won't' -lessen it. I'll pay you back .
as soon as I •ean; leek will change
presently; and the poor devils of fee-) .
mors will be able to.pay their rents."
. "I dare say," said Harwood.
He took the .deed, sr: tined Sir tee-
enee's. neatly written .signature, ••• and
pointed to the check, : .
, "Take it," he said. "I wag going %
to say, take care of it; but that
would .baa waste of words. You will
want inore presently, X know. How-
ever, that is no businessof thine." I-
• Sir Terence put the check in his ,
pocket, his happy temperament al-
• ready reasserting itself. Like a coek,
he was 'sobbing on the top of life's,
stream again. . ,
"Thanks, thanks, Harwood!" -he
said, extending his hand' and wring-
ing Itarwepd's cold claw: "You, %
bark is Worse theft your bite. You
-are a good fellow. Lord! neither you
nor X Can forget the days when we
were boys—merry, merry boys to-
gether. I wish you 'could see my boy
Bernard; you'd like .hint. Gad! you
'couldn't help it! he'd win the heart
of a stone. Well-s-tvell"—as Stephen
Harwood drew his hand away sharp.
ly—"never mind; some day, per-
hafiPtsephee Harwood seek back in his
chair and glowered at the departing
figure --the still supple, jaunty figure
"rerget? No!" lie muttered. "Foes
get that you robbed me of the WO -
man X loved—that you turned the
sweet of my life to bitterness? For-
get? No! Unless you could restore her
me—restore the hope and happi-
se you robbed me of when you stole
her front me. My turn is corning,
Terence Yorke; the day of reckoninet
Is approaching, and quickly. Theis --
then 1 can pay you back the old, old
score you talk so lightly of—you and
the cub you flaunt in my face. Yes,
my turn id eoining, and you will
learn then that I have forgotten
nothing!"
Sir Terence jumped into a hansom
and went back to the hotel, dressed
with his usual crust, and strolled
down to the Corinthian to meet Ilea.
nerd. His face was beaming With the
jnfectioue 0111110, his eyes shildn$
s
andat
another,.ldd
rtd.. .ibut presently ,got a
l
Half an hour 'later Lady Winshire
a'nci..ete
Fe;iliacitarg
tP
•rlt
Tho ced around , the
rooms as women do when they ' are
seeking for some tme covertlY:- She
saw Derailed, and their eyes. Mot, Ile
went tip, to her.. at' once. • She tried
to keep the tell-tale color .from her
face,. • the light :from her eyes, and en-
deavored to greet filar cordially,. but
"Will you give nfe a •••1'1.0:
. .
•
- "Presently-lierhaste:" .ebe ..said.
have only just eotne in,agd • we shall
not stay -longs the' countess is -.rather
tired; ".. .• • •• , .
sIlle
at down 'beside her: 'XIer: fair
cluttered to and fro, keeping time
With the rapid beating of :her , heart;
Suddenly . she seids. • • ,
. "who is that nandseme ccld men;
there,. standing by the door, laughing
withall thosepeople areitind hint?" s
"Thatissmy father," said Bernard.
"But .he is not Old. He ij only four -
and -twenty! I'll :bring nine to you,
1,y
1)el.?,;.; she naid: • •
Sir Terence .canie"nn, was introdne-
ed, made his courtly- bow,. sat- down
in the • Seat Bernard. vacated for him,
and began to talk AO her as 'only he
could' talk. • •Witn that mixture of
knightly ;deference and reverential 'ads
iniratjon of which our • fathers • ..knew
the Mt.' so wehl but Which we, their
unworthy • sons, .aljael hvo quite
lest. • .• •
She led hien. on t� .tallt of Berard
—he did not require intleh lee,ding4s-
and' ass Sir 'Terence sunk his Son's
praises he happened to: glance up at
her • fd. ace, 'ancatching thl
e • atent
rapt expression in her • eyes, faltered
for a inemerits fOr • he. keens the ex-•
pression Well' enough. Bernard canie
,atter awhile to claim. his dance.
said' Sir Tereece, with a
Sigh and ,an odd, wistful glance', at
the ' beautiful .feces":"I Wieh could.
change places with hiltisSitliss Dare -
oral. •Tbei•e. are times 'whets .the
anenkbrance that we have • loet our
youth • makes • US• 01(1 men . fee1. like
tearing out the fere heirs we've got
lefts" and his hands went Up to his
abundant healidr. 'out
FeiIela ther' hand:
"You shall change places with him,
if you.. like, Sir Tel -ellen," she said.
. He 'eliook 'his head ,dolefully.
"It' ‘wouldrits bo -him," he,
siud witifrufically.
. •8116: laughed softly efid put ..her
hand • on Bernard s .arrie •
Sir srerence looked after 'them
."Pity, pity!" he murmured, with a
sigh.. •'She's as beautiful as .
trogel, sand Wyss him. It she'd only
got the Money!"
:As. Bernard and he walked- back to
the hotel he linked his :arm Ber-
nard's and probed it. •
• `"rouching that two thousand,
Bernie," he said, "it's all right."
•
'Thanks, she" . said Bernard.,' re-
turning the pressure. "You are al-
ways good .to met Thanksr'
"Tush! There's : no talk of good -
'tees between you and me, my boy.
While'I've a pointy left" (of arny own
or anybody's else,. - might have
added), "it's yours: I'lS send you a
shock whew I get home to -morrow.
I'll make it foe two theatiand five
hundred; you'll want a liftle -ready
cash, dear boy."
"Aro you sure you can spare it?"
asked Bernard., but quite easily, and
with no suspieion of the truth. • Ho
had aIways . had what money he
wanted for the asking. , • , •
.
"Quito—mdte," Held Sir Terence;
and he did not • evert eigh to him-,
self. "The money's all right! Good-
night, dear laddiel I'll •bo off. before
you're stirring to -morrow, Good-
night, and-:-Bernie!"—he looked ihte.
Bernard's handsome' eyes, his own
grown. tinustially grave—"you'll 'not
forgot your promise to me? No en-
gagement without teining to Inc
first, eh?" .
%*•.-teesett: .
a a by the -river-side, and thought
herself fertunate if she could •sPars
time for it. . •
Sometimes she was "too drivenby
the work, ton 'tired when it was
'colveit',erivn to indulge in her Only re-
vmThi0is afternoon she escaped. from
the room with a sigh of re-
lief. Her face was pale With long
sitting over the pillow,' her . eyes
ached; but she was not unhappy, not-
• Withstendieg the 'now:: and .strange
ache Whic:h every now and thee came
' -into her heart:
. •
She walked 'along the • kind . of_
.. parade, lieeeath :tne avenue of limes,
leoking' dreamily, :absently, ' dreamy', . at the
river, and thinkiAg of Bernard.
....Wanld'•hceremember his promise to
• '.serat books?' It was. very
. he would .ferge.t 'all about it,
. she: thought One montent; • the next ..
she felt reinorseful for: the thought
•• ILisilwhabsehoet neoptittaagaosn,•thieemlinanid? in'Ao4re
isect-
• ••
. ,gentleinan always, kept 'his wsr.d.. •
••••••••.....14413K. ,..•••••••,*
•
• . •
• .
-Mest people think too Tig:htly of:
a cough. It is a serious matter
and needs prompt attention.
Take
• C rksu. tfo tion-
-Cure. ,
The Lung Tonic .
when the first sign of a cough or •
. , sold appears. ,
It will cure you easily and quickly
then—later it will be harder
to cure. .
Prides 25c., 50c. and $1.00
S . C. WALLS & CQ
[Tomato, Can. LeRoy, N.Y. so
' •
teeseses--cs e es-sesSasn.c;i
. . . •
"•13utliad ;she. dime fight to a.n-cefit his
• offer?. •
'elhe had asked herself this question
'a .hun.dred times. during. themorning, ,
• and it. still' remained unanswered. -
• She .had net. told her father of hie
• .visit, • • .
SomehOw, frotn no desire of 'con-
ceahnent. or deception; she 'had •
shrunk 'froin mentioning Bernard's,.
name to hirn. 'Sheknew that Mr: -
Grey would be only• tea cagor td fos- '
ter an acquaintance with him, and•
. that the first opportunity would be s
seized • tn• borrow his money .or eel! ".
him eiga.rs. . • • • .
s • She walked eonte •distance, then sat
. .
down on a seat ever -looking the sil-
ently 'flowing tide. Some. barges.
were darting down the river, a Pleas-
ure -•boat with young men and women,
singing 'and 'laughing 'passed swiftly .
- just. below her
•
Nance looked after them wistfully,
How .happy they seemed' . A scrip° of
her- °wit loneliness smote her,. • and
she turned her oyes away froin them
w.fth .a stilled 'sigh. .•
The next momeet the aching. Sense. •
,Was dispelled as if bysinagic, for .4
stepi came behind her; . and a voice,
said, in a tone of glad surprise:
."Miss Grey, is that you? Hoar
lucky X am!" "
She rosa and then ',sunk down .
again. It was ho! .
Bernard held her hand a Moment,
looking down at her with a smile—a
strange smile of grave earnestness—
on his handsome him a look, half •
pleading, in his eyes.
Nance could not find her voice, • but
sat quite, silent, looking straight in
front of her. Thesunlight on the
river seemed to have suddenly deep-
ened with a dazzling brightness, and
her heart leaped in response to the
music of his voice.
"I am awfully lucky," he said,
"I called at your house—with the
books, you • khow—the sorvant said
! '
. you were out, and I just strolled
What shrunk your woolens ?'along here without tho least hope of
Why did holes wear so soon? seeing you, X might lutYe gone the
other way, or back to tho club."
You used common. so It was just the Speech of convent -
'F' nine kindness Which he might have
addressed to any lady of his accounts-
LICHtance; but te Nance, the Words,rde, the •
; Calle°.
tone, seemed full of intense signill.
I "I—X came out tor a walk," oho
pplettescgal 0:tnitill_flaxnedd tonwathsetriri(v.z. to'ISdl_t ,iwitatiwhaostt;
ExpExisz • • poaindie at last, her voice low, het' eyes •
Ask for the OCiagOu 13404 **5
A
the city,"
.&k
way. It is furtlier fro,
(TO 3314 CONTINUUD4 • I
11
••• •