Lucknow Sentinel, 1892-03-25, Page 2A- BARITOill'S DEVOTION
J
• , • OR A TALE OF BONET ITALY.
, 45 Ifieve you been all this time at the th
Owe rank. ecl.Sardeni.
• •Yes; two metal hours of eltereatio
e; manager, the local conductor, Merlin
' 'sled *entail, all in battle tenne"
• "With you SS a gd-betWeen I euppos
'• .e•
alternately used and abueed
' Ail elite would have been bearable enou
'•139.14m if (Mhe could have won Nita
• f' love; but after the firet day or two, wh
r'e"• she im4ct really been grateful to him f
• vilthf h
her stoin what —or -setter mod
= ee• •,
she fully recognized afi a sin, she had nev
• felt or pretended to feel for him any sort
•etefe affection. When alone with him, or wh
•- ahe wanted anything done, she wou
- often he civil and even friendly, but wh
other people wore present ehe seemed
take pleasure in snubbing him, and nev
.allowed him to forget for a moment th
"e Jie .was her junior. The "elder sisterly
tityle of treatment is never very colligate
to a man'and it was particularly irksom
to Carlo because he and Anita had so ver
ittle in common. It was, perhaps; th
whiCh made it so hard for him to win h
•
way With her. They had none of the happ
aseociations of childhood which form s
etroug a bond between most brothers an
sisters; they had grow e up apart, and when
at rare intervals, Nita had returned fron
the convent, there had been little love los
between them. At 19 she left home for
ever; and cast in her lot with Merlino, and
• now, after an interval of five years, the
hrotherand sister were almost strangers to
each other, and Carlo, often in despair,
:struggled to break down the wall of division
•which seemed to have risen between them.
• If he had been as indifferent to her as she
svas to him they inight have drifted on
without much discomfort, but he loved her,
not only as the one specially left to him by
his mother on her death -bed, not only with
the family love which had first corr.e to his
• aid in that time of numb grief, bet with the
'divine love which had given him power to
oacrifice himself for her sake.
• It -is often harder to understand the char-
acters of those closely related to ns than
• the Characters of mere ordinary acqhaint-
ences; our -very nearness hinders us from
taking true and just views and perhaps
Carlo's love blinded him to some extent
with regard to Nita. He credited her evith
--viirtues-which-she did -not -possess, -and then
was wounded when in daily life she was
• weighed in the balance and found wanting.
He would say to himself, "is she not the
•child of my father and mother? Then how
is it possible that she sho Id not at heart
be really loviog, really true?" But he did
• not realize'as a dispassionate spectator
would have done, that, although Nita might
originally have inherited many good gifts, her
• life and education had been quite enough to
paralyze them. At her marriage she had
• escaped into what she imegined would prove
• love and liberty, but in three months' time
• —•' -she had learned that She had made a ter-
e -
n ;
0,
e,
gh
's
en
or
ds
er
of
en
ld
en
to
er
at
If
al
e/
I8
is
• rible mistake, and had sold herself into
savery almost intolerable.
When a woman makes so terrible a dis-
•CoverY there are only two courses open to
• her --either she must sink or she intuit swim
•—there is no idle drifting in such case.
Nita never attempted to love her husband,
• she never tried to bridge over the differences
between them; he tyrannized over her as
was his nature, and she yielded in miser-
• able, slav sh despair, fearing him and hating
• him with her whole heart. So, inevitably
• she sank, and there was not wanting—there
never is wanting—a Comerio to help her.
• "You seem to have worked up Merlino
into a 'pleaeant state," she said, sarcasti-
• cally, in reply to Carlo's greeting.
He disliked her way of speaking against
• her husband, and tried to turn the subject.
' " There has been a good deal to *eery
him to -day, but all is ,straight new. We
*have been down at the theatre.; it seems a
better one than I should have expected."
• "Alt is straight, you ,should say, with
the exception of the impresario's temper,"
said Nita, sharply. "1 wish you would
leave him alone and not interfere; ,you only
make it a good deal worse for me.'
He was silent, and Nita, who had hoped
to stir up a discussion, finding it impossible
to quarrel alone, walked over to the winclew
where Gigi was contentedly playing with •
his soldiers, and without a word of warning ,
swept the whole of the miniature camp into
its box.
• "Go away! we can't have your toys all
over the place !" she said, giving him a vin-
dictive little push.
Gigi, whose tears were terribly near the
surface burst into a roar, and Carlo who
• on principle never interfered between
mother and Child, had much ado to keep
silence while the little fellow was ignomini-
ously turned out of the room.'
" It's all your fault," said Nita, return-
ing a little flushed from the contest; "'you
make a great deal too much of the child ;
he must be taught his proper place."
She sat down with her writing -case at the
vacant table.
"1 au( going to the post -office directly,"
said Carlo, by way of breaking the Uncom-
fortable silence; "shall you have any
letters ?"
• "What affair is that of yours 7" she
asked, angrily. 9 Is it not enough that my
husband is spying on me all day long?'.If
you think I am going to pet up _with you as
a spy you are mistaken ! It was bad enough
before you came !'"
And with' an impttient gesture, she
gathered her things 'together and left the
room.
Sardoni, glancing up, saw the pained look
on Carlo's face, and was so stung by it that
he could no longer keep silence. •
"By Jove ! " he exclaimed, "if Madame
Merlin° were not your sister I should give
her a piece of my mind."
" Marioni has arranged to take Trove -
tore,' with the orchestra and chorus, but
he'll not need us." •
"Good : then will von give me your com-
pany in the afternoon? I have a disagree-
able piece of work to do, and should be glad
of your help."
Carlo seemed really pleaeed by the request,
and, in truth, his interest in Sardoni was a
capital thing for him, and helped to take
him for the time being out of his own
troubles. •
• CHAPTER N.X.
A RETrRN.
• How dismal the place loohs ! ex-
claimer' Carlo, as after service the next day
he walked with Sardoni through the quiet
Streets;
with their shuttered., ehop-fronts
1
and deeerted roads, to the station. "A
good thing, I dare say, to have the shops
closed and to give the people a rest, but
there -is -such sleepy -air -about it alt; they
don't seem to enjoy it."
"Where in the world are we going?"
asked Carlo, looking perplexed.
By this time they had rea,cled the station,
aed for reply Sardoni headed him his rail-
way ticket This conveyed to him nothing
at all, and in silence he followed his friend
to a 'smoking carriage, and, knowing intui-
tively that Seldom did not care to talk, lit
a cigar and gave himself up to the enjoy-
ment of the beautiful wooded countiy
through which they were passing.
Sardoni watched him silently.' ,•
"After all, I doubt whether he'll make
any impression on them," he thought to
himself. "Now, if he were a stiff, churchy-
looking fellow, with a cross on his watch -
chain and the ascetic type of face, there
might be some good in hie coming; or, on
the other hand, if he were one of your
priggish -looking, truly pieus young
men, • then I might gain a sort
of reflected respectability. But there's
no classifying Valentino, ha won't fit
any of the conventional notions. Im-
agine my father here at this moment; what
would he see in him? Merely a very hand-
some Italian in a delightfully easy and com-
fortable attitude, travelling reprehensibly
on a Sundey afternoon, idly enjoying the
scenery and a cigar. And yet that fellow
is a hero, if there ever was one, and a saint
of the real sort and no mistake. I could
wish for this one afternoon to shake him
into the goody-goody mold though; that at
any rate, has the merit of catching the eye
of the respectable and virtuous, and getting
a gooddeal more credit than it deaerves.
Now, Valentino, looked at casually, might
be anything. I believe if he thought more
highly of himself he Would get the credit he
• deserves, but, confound it, be never seems
to think of himself at all."
They got out at a small way -side station,
and, making their way up a steep hill,found
themselves on a wide, deserted -looking com-
mon, where here and there a solitary horse
or cow grazed,and where the mingled
heather and gorse, set like jewels in the
smooth green of the turf, unloosed Carlo's
tongue. •
Ihnow every inch of 'the ground," said
Sardoni. "Down there to the right is the
village—look ; you can just see the church
tower through those trees.",
" And you 'are going home ?"
• Sardoni nodded. just at that Moment
hecould not have spoken a word to save his
life.
Glad as Carlo was at' his friend's resolve
to seek out his people, he was sorely per-
plexed as to the part he himself was to
play. Naturally' enough he felt that he
wouldbe very much de trop in a family
reconciliation, nor could he understand how
Sardoni could tolerate the presence of a
comparative stranger at such a time. How-
ever, he was too unselfish to object on his
own account, tind wise enoughto let Sardoni
choose his own wa,yof settingto work. They
crossed the field, walked' through a •little
copse, entered a annny-looking garden and
made their way toward the vicarage, a
pretty gray old .house with many gables
and a moss -grown, red -tied roof. Carlo
could guess how. his friend's heart was beat-
ing, es with heightened color he walked
steadily up the well -kept drive • but Sar-
doni spoke not a word till they stood in the
porch and heard the bell echoing in the
quiet house. Then he turned to his com-
panion and said, with s. touch of his ordin-
ary jesting tone
"the cat will be out of the bag at last—
my name will no longer be a secret !"
As he spoke, steps were heard within,
and through the hell -glass door they could
see a neat maid -servant crossing ime
Sardoni was relieved to see a st a,nge face •
it would have huniiliated him dreadfully t�
be recognized by the parlor -maid.
"Is Mr. Postlethwayte at home ?" he
asked, in his strong, decided voice.
A look of perplexity came over the maid's
face.
"No, sir; there's no one of that name
living hre," she replied.
" What ! is he gone, then?" exclaimed
Sardoni, turning pale. "The vicar—who
is vicar now ?"Z
"Mr. Stanley is vicar now," said the
mail "Will you come in and see master,
sir? He could perhaps tell you what you
want to know. You see, sir, I've only been
here in this situation a few cays myself, so
I don't know the names hereabout."
"Thank you—no—I'll not come in," said
Sardoni; and he turned away and walked
down the drive again with never a word.-
" Amico mio 1" said Carlo, when he
ventured at last to break the silence •
" what can I do for you? Shall I go and
make inquiries in the village ? "
They had by this time left the vicarage
garden,and were in the little copse; Sardoni
threw himself down in the shade of an old
ui tree.
"1 wish you would; old fellow," he said,
in a broken voice.
Carlo promised to do his best, and, tak-
ing the path pointed out to him by
Sardoni, made his way through the
quiet little churchyard • and across a
stile into the village street. For a moment
he felt rather at a loss to know how
to proceed, and half afraid lest the villagers
might talk some unintelligible patois ; how-
ever, he went boldly up to a group of big
boys who were idling about and asked
whether they could tell him where the
sexton lived. Their dialect.puzzled him not
a little, but he managed to make out which
house it was, and, walking through the
pretty strip of garden, with its hollyhocks
and dahlias, knocked at the door. A little
bent old man, with a weather beaten face
and, a friendly but toothless smile,
opened it.
"You keep the keys of the church, I am
told. Am I permitted to see it ?" asked
Carlo.
"Yes, sir ; certainly, sir," mumbled the.
toothless old man. "Fine day, sir! Step
in a minute, will ye, sir ?" -
Carlo stepped in and found himself in a
snug little room which smelled strongly of
apples. The old man took a couple of large
keys from a nail, and .then, with a great
effort, tried to reach his hat from a peg on
the wall.
" You've been herr ,Dt, long time, I dare
say?" said Carlo, fe / rather like a de -
tective.
"Oh : ay, sir ;
have 1 Why, l'v
forty years pest
place, too!
here parish. e
him, he tiatei
f slf have, air, t
the eexton here
n and bred i
aue.
March
5 -
I've seen in
like the brook! Vicars- may come and
vicars go, but you go on forever !" But
ler' 1 I never rightly, understood which
brook it was be Meent.' —
" Wasn't there mime one named Postleth-
wayte here once?" asked Carlo, bringing
out the name with a laudable precision.
" Why, yea, sir. lb was poor Master
Jaele as I was just telling on. .Aw, he was
o. rare one for a jest, he Was. The poor
lveifeta.r never held up his head again after he
"Did the vidar die?" asted Carlo.
"Ah, no, sir, he didn't die; he be alive
and well, bless him! But there was trouble
with Master Jack—the old story, sir; the
old story 1—a pretty girl to put him of his
balance; and then, when it all came out,
he,
just desperate -like at the blame he got
at home, made away. with some money that
warn't his, and rushed off and was never
heard of no more."
Carlo could hardly have regulated his ex-
pression to the casual interest of a stranger
had not his profession taaght him to com-
mand his face and Make it answer at all
Limes to his will. He was glad that the
sexton was silent for a minute while he
fitted the key in the heavy oak door of the
church.
"That's a aad story," he said at length.
"What became of the poor vicar?"
"He couldn't stay here, sir ; he felt the
disgrace so bad he went away to foreign
parts ; and it's my belief, sir, that he had
hopes of finding Master Jack, though other
folks said diffex•ent. However, I never
heard as how they met, and the vicar he be
back in England now, and I wish we'd got
him here again. Not but what Mr. Stanley
is a good young man in his way; you under-
stand, sir; but he ain't our old vicar, and
nothink wet:A make him."
"Has he taken some new living, then ?"
asked Carlo
" Ay, sir, he be just settled in eince mid-
summer; the parish o' Cleevering in Mount -
shire, that's his new sitooation, and not a
patch upon this parish, as far as money goes
—at least, so folk say. Now, sir, just, you
step and see our monument. That's Sir
Gerald Fitzgerald, as wa3 killed in the Civil
War; Naseby or Mareton Moor, I blieve
it was—at any rate, the last battle before
King Charles was taken. Belike you know,
sir, how it was called ; I'm not •much of a
scholar myself."
"Nor I," said Carlo, not at all desiring
to be put through an examination in
English history, and feeling extremely
Shaky as to dates.
CHAPTER XxL
WINTRY WEATHER. •
• He stayed long enough to please the sex-
ton, and duly admired the village church;
then, having gladdened the old man's heart
with a shilling, he bade him good -day, and
rejoined Sardoni, whom he found still
stretched at full . length under the elm -tree.
He got up quickly as Carlo drew near,
and looked anxiously into his face.
"Well?" he exclaimed, in the sharpened
voice of leer and apprehension.
"It is all right," said Carlo, reassuringly.
"Your father has' got a new living. He is
just settled down at Cleevering in Mount -
shire."
"How did you find out? Did they sus-
pect anything ?" -
"No; but they spoke of you. L learned
it from the old sexton."
• " What ! dear old Johnson? Is he still
alive? Did you really see him ?"
"He seemed very fond of you all,
especially of you, and he spoke so warmly
of your father. • But, Jack, gout ,must for-
give me, I couldn't help hearing it, for the
old fellow would ratable on, and I couldn't
shut him up without making hirnsuspicions;
I heard—well, what you wouldn't ti311 me
that day at Naples.'
He looked up at him apologetically,.
'Pon • iny soul r'- -exclaimed Sardoni,
" you're the . oddest fellow I ever knew.
You look as ,if it were you that was to
blame, not me ?"
"1 was sorry to know it, since you didn't
wish me to -know."
• "All right, Val—all right!"fsaid Sale
cloth, in a choked vcice. "1 might have
known it wouldn't turn you against me!
As I told you yesterday, you would make
excuses for the devil himself—and so would
old Johnson ! Tell me just what he said."
The sat down again in the shade, and
Carlo repeated the whole conversation,' Sar-
doni listening with averted fe:ce, and ner-
vously .crushing in his fingers the fallen
leaves which lay on the grass beside him.
"As to the Money," he said, when Carlo
paused," I swear to you, Donati, I didn'c
know.what I was doing! I was mad !—if
not, is it likelythat, to escape my father's
blame, I should have done what the world
would blame a thousand times more? Em-
bezzlement is an nnpardonable crime, but
to ruin a girl is an offense very easily con-
doned by society."
"That's true—to our shame be it spoken !"
said Carlo, with a gleam of indignant light
in his eyes.
told upon him; it was the change of m
climate.
roward the .middle of _January, Me• r
had arriinged to take one of the Lon
epees houses, and give a series of twe
pertormances, a project bold to rashnes
that dine of the year. The company be
themselves to various dreary ledging -ho
in the neighborhood of theatre, and Ca
under very depressing circumstances, ni
his first acquaintance with London and
first appearance on a London stage.
had taken up the paper casually enou
little thinking that instead of a distrac
it would prove an additional care, w
suddenly, and with a shock indeecribabl
a shock whrch for the time half parody
him, he read the words, "Signor Com
begs to announce hie arrival in town.
communications with regard to concerts
other engagements to be addressed
Antic° .& Co."
Those brief lines in the Times had fal
like a bomb -shell into this life.
He had wandered miserably round
dreary -looking. park. . The , fog was
quite so dense as it had been on the p
vious day ; he could see through a ml
haze the chill, gray -looking water, and t
ducks swimming about aimlessly, and h
and there in the distance the outlines
great houses. Presently he heard
Westminster • chimes, and he remember
how, long ago, Francesca had told him
the words which belonged to them :
oral into that -vacant •space steps the devil, and
lin_9 ipt7e121/,, I am made to knock down my best
don Evidently the whole affair was so grap -
nty cally before his own mind that Sardoni sup -
at pressed his inclination to laue,h.
took "You are an old-fasttioned fellow, Val,"
uses he said; "not at all up to the modern
rlo, lights, as I told you once before. A fellow
ade that does believe in the devil and. doesn't
his believe in divorce! My dear boy, you're an
He anachronism! But what made you so hor-
gh, ribly anxious? Anything gone wrong 2" •
tion " No ; of course it's all right; but at first
hen it took my breath away, and I thought all
e— was lost. Comerio is in London."
zed Sardoni gave a whietle of surprise and
erio dismay.
Alt
you ?A"re you sure it is true? Who told
to "No one. I saw it in the Times this
morning."
len "What ! while I was finishing the argu-
ment ? You had plenty of self-control,
the then, for .you betrayed nothing at all."
not Sardoni was •not a little curious to knoio
re- more about Carlo's love allairs, but he
sty could not inake up his mind to ape...1110
he him about the matter • instead, he threw
ere out a casual remark that afternoon, when
of it happened that he and Anita were practice
the ing a duet in the drawing -room which they
ed had to sing at night.
of "Mademoiselle de -Caisne is doing her
best to captivate your brother, don't you
think ?" he said, bar way of leading' up to
the subject.
" Yes, the little goose," said Nita ; "it
makes me quite cross to watch her."
he " Our Valentino doesn't exactly enjoy it
lie either, I fancy," said Sardoni. 1 under -
Un stand from him that he was to have been
o. • married at one time."
his " Yes he was betrothed to Miss Britton,
r- an English girl who lived near us. It was
ad broken off when he went On the stage. In
is. some ways it is rather a pity, for she was
well off, and he'll not find such a pretty
re girl again in a hurry. But, after all, as I
d; told him only the other day, these mar-
ee rwtriee.,s, with toreigners seldom turn outreally
OS " What did he say to that?' asked Sar-
doni, marvelling at the indifferent way in
at Which she spoke of the sacrifice which she
as must have known had been made for ,her
sake.
"Oh, he said nothing at all, • only
it blushed up like a girl, and looked as he ,
• always does- when I say what he doesn't'
While she was speaking the door was
o thrown open, and the servant announced
h "Signor Comerio" Sardoni, charmed to
think how Comerio would hate him for
p- being in the way, greeted him in the friend -
o, liest.manner, and deteimined to stay and
d be hated to the bitter end ; he could see
d from Anita's manner that she was not
e, wholly unprepared for Comerio's sudden
e, appearance.
a "But I interrupt a tete-a tete,',' said Co-,
d merio, in his soft, flattering voice. "What
e did I hear from Madame Merlino's • lips?
• When I say what he doesn't like!' Does
our prima donna ever say anything distaste -
n ful to mankind ?"
Nita laughed.
"We were talking of my brother," she
said, taking her revenge on Sardoni for not
7 at once going away by saying what she
e knew would °vex him. "1 was trying to
t persuade him the other day that it was just
t as well his engagement with Miss Britton
was broken off, and naturally he didn't
. like it." •
Sardoni bit hislip. He would have given
mlich to have refrained from introducing
e the subject, and he thought Madame Mer -
✓ lino showed very bad taste in speaking of it
before Comerio, while, to make matters
• worse, Carlo happened just then to come
t into the room_ . , •
"Lord, through this hour,
Be Thou our guide,
So by Tby pow.tr,
No foot shall slide."
But he was too hopeless to pray, and t
next moment Big Ben warned him that
most hurry back for a rehearsal of "
Ballo in Maschera." He reached the the
tre, feeling harassed and ill, and made
way to the greenroom. where he found Sa
doni, looking mdre cheerful than he h
done for some Vitne past, and with a m
chievous gleam‘kbout his eyes.
"You basely deserted me in the arg
meat," he exclaimed, as Carlo entere
"but I'll have my revenge on you! You'
the most careless fellow on earth, leavin
diamonds straying about loose in a Lend
lodging -house !"
Carlo, glancing down quickly, saw th
Francesca's ring, which he always wore, w
not on hie hand.
"Where is it ?" he said, hastily, •feelin
annoyedethat e could have forgotten
even for a moment.
• " Ah ! that is the question," said Sardon
taking him by the shoulders in teasin
fashion, and meaning to have a little fu
out of him before he yielded the ring, whic
was on his own finger.
Unluckily the light at that moment ha
pened to flash on the diamond, and Carl
in a sudden paroxysm of anger, • vvrenche
himself away from the teasing hold, an
dashing himself at Sardoni with all his fore
took him so completely by surprise tha
before a bystander could have uttered
word of remonstrance, the . tenor ha
measured his length ,on the floor,' alnd th
rine had been seized by its rightful owiaer
Sardoni had gone over like a ninepin, be
ing utterly unprepared for so furious a
onslaught; he was angry and astonished.
"What the devil are you after 1" he ex
claimed; as he picked himself up. "
"Jack, Jack—I didn't mean it !" ex
claimed Carlo, his wrath spent in that on
lightning -like flash, and shame and regre
overwhelming him as he partly realized wha
he had,done, and saw the look of grave in
quiry with which one of the officials belong
ing to the theatre regarded them as h
• entered the greenroom.
Sardoni. was silent till they were one
mre slone. He could not keep his ange
in face of Carlo's shame and dismay.
"1 didn't know there was anything par
flee's,: about the ring..•Gigi .brought i
down from your washstand ; I only meant
to chaff you a little."
"It was the ring Which belonged to my
betrothed," said Carlo. "Not that that is
any eicuse—indeed, I think it makes it
rather worse."
• He was evidently so unhappy aboht it
that Sardoni qUite lost all feeling of offence.
" Well, you know, . old fellow, I always
wanted to poke up the devil in you and see
what you'd do."
Carlo turned away with a sigh.
"1 can't think why I did it ! I was be-
side myself. if I had done it to Gomez,
now, it might have been easier to under-
stand; but to you, Jack, you whom I'm
really fond off !—I can never forgive my-
StelliVe was very quiet now, and sad and
ashamed ; in alt his life he had never been
guilty of such an unreasoning fit of anger.
." Never mind, Val," said the English-
man, ,almost as much surprised by the
vehement regret as by the attack itself. "
declare I like you the better for it, I do
indeed. Why, to hear you talk one might
suppose you had'meant to murder me !"
"1 meant nothing • that's the horrible
rt of it to me," said Carlo. " I wanted
e ring and to be free from your sing.
here wasn't a moment to think—it was
over i flash. H lot
mayn't murder some fellow one of these
ys by a like impulse 9"
" My dear boy !"—Sardoni laughed till
was almost convelsed—" you, who
uldn't hurt a fly !"
" Well, you laugh," said Carlo ; and it's
od of you to take it lightly ; bet 1 can't
e that there's a pin to choose between, me
cl the man who Murders in sudden anger.
yhow, I know I can never be hard on
eh a murderer again."
"That's like the story of the fellow who
W a man going to the gallows, and ex-
imed, 'There, but for the grace of God,
es----' I forget the old buffer's mane.
(3wever, Val, I don't think you need he
aid, for you have plenty of that sort of
ing and little enough of th d p."
"That's what I can't understand about
" said Carlo, in the most outspoken way.
hardly ever spoke of religion, but when
did speak it was with the direct simpli-
y and naturalness hardly ever to be met
th in England, save in children. " That's
at puzzles me. How can say the
'eel Creator' one hour and
e, and the next turn upon my. friend '
at? • My bleed was made hot just by that
fie. "
At that moment the call -boy appeared to
'ninon them, hut in the many e.nd weari-
pa
"1 was mad—desperate !" resumed Sar- th
doni. "It all came out at her death—and T
I—why I felt like a murderer! My father all
was not one to spare a fellow in such a case.
I couldn't stand it; to stay at home was de
more than a fellow could bear; I was bound
to get away from him. And then came a he
mad impulse to take this money which was we
within my reach, and break off with the Old
World altogether and rush to America," go
" We are not very far from Mountshire, se
I suppose, hei)e ?" he said at length. "Shall an
you go thee, or shall you write ?" ; An
"Neither," said Sardoni. "1 can't go au
through a day .like this again, Val."
Carlo was sorry that his friend had made sa
this decision, but he knew that had he been cla
in Sardoni's place arguments would only go
have irritated him. So he held his peace,
and comforted himself with tbe reflection afr
that in SO small a countny as England the th
chances were greatly in favor of a meeting
between the father and son. •
The autumn wore on, and the cold He
weather set in. Merlino's company had he
become pretty well accustomed, however, cit
to wintry weather during their American wi
tour, and no one suffered mucH, except wh
Carlo, who, having never left Italy before,
found the English climate fearfully trying. tru
But, spite of the fur coat, Carlo's health th
did not improve; the cbnstant travelling, tri
the draughts on the stage, the necessity of
turning out every night, ill or well, in • rain su
or snow, and the constant strain of physical so
me dela. d p . .
. an( scraps of
t, Carlo apparently had time to think
t his problem : for as he and Sardoni
lked home tog, ther he said, just asif no
eareal had intervened :
' I see how it wasp Jack. I wa.a. horribly,
Xiiiiii, and haa lost faith : then quickly
eat .,hard work and mental excitement, all told rep
tees, on him severely. Nor was it possible for a ou
n the man of his temperament to go through all wa
this the euffering and grief of the past few reh
vicar's son, bless months withdut paying for it. It was not ,
yeaseee -only the thengoof phyeital climatewhit:1'U
117, Johnstie,
(Tabs eon limed.)
Increase Your Weight.
If you are losing flesh and blood, com-
mence at once taking Miller's Emulsion of
Cod Liver Oil, which is far ahead of all
other preparations of the kind in existence.
By taking Miller's Emulsion people gain
from 5 to 10 lbs. by the time the first bottle
is consumed. •It is the greatest blessing of
the century to all in delicate health, or who
suffer with coughs, colds and ailments that
tend to coraminption. -Remember, Miller's
Emulsion contains all the constituents fauna
in wheat. rt is used in the hospitals an
asylums otthe country. In big bottles, 50e.
and $1 at all drug stores.
One of Spurgeon's Stories.
Rev. Dr. Charles Wood, of the First
Presbyterian Church, Germantown, tells a
good story at his own expense about Spur-
geon. Dr. Wood, while iri London, was
telling Spurgeon that he was goingto
Germany to study. _
"Haven't you any theological seminari▪ es
in America?" asked Spurgeon.
" Yes," said Dr. Wood, "but I don't think
I know everything, though I gradeated at
Princeton, and I am going to Germany to
try and learn more."
" Well," said Spurgeon, "I hope you will
not be like the calf I ones heard of The
milk of one cow wasn't enough for it, and
they gave it the milk of two, and the more
milk it drank the more of a calf it be-
came. "—Philadelphia Press.
To Dispel Colds,
Headaches ' and Fevers, to cleanse t
system effectually, yet gently, when coat' -
or bilious, or when the blood is impure or
sluggish, to permanently cure habitual
constipation, to awaken the kidneys and
liver te a healthy activity, without irritat-
ing or weaking them, use Syrup of Figs.
—1_
In a list of "curious things "the St Lou'
Rerpublic mentions that a man „ weighing 154
pounds has enoegil iton hid away in him to
make a plowshare, and enough phosphorus
to make a half million matches ; also that
Montreal, in icy 'Canada, is in the -earn°
latitude as Venice, in sunny
Queen Victoria's horses are attended 4""
when they get sick by a veterinary Surgeon
who wears a title and who is the only man
of his profession is England who does ,wear
one.
—Bagley—Are those people across the
way a.bsolutely destitute. Mrs. Bagley—
.
es itute 1 I never saw anything like it.
Why, they heven't even a piano and a seal,
skin sacque in the house.
Tennyson's rustic drama; " The Forester •
Robin Hood and Maid Marjan" will he
piintedtiin latter pat a 'AILireli 1.);,.
th
Macm ns.
,n
Aft
1