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The Exeter Times-Advocate, 1933-01-05, Page 6THURSDAY, JANUARY 5, 1933 THE EXETER TJMES-ADVOCATE A, °f z>reams Ijruek!W V CHAPTER XXXI told“But you yourself wrote and me of her death?” She n-odded pla-.troft ■cidly. I h< “Yes. I wrote a lie.” m......; “But the official information? We soft had that, too, later, from the French' k police, confirming your account. You had better be careful about what you are telling me,” he said sternly “Lies won’t answer, now.” “The need of lying is past,” she answered with the most absolute candour. “The French police wrote quite truthfully all they knew. They had found the body of a suicide, whom I identified as my sister. To strengthen matters I bribed some­ one I knew also to identify the dead girl as Nesta. She was a married ’woman, too, the poor little dead one! So it was quite simple. And I took Nesta home—home to Chat­ eau Varigny. I had married then. But she had heard of my marriage' through friends in Italy and wrote to me from misery with succour her. brought her ny. Then I believe her simple.” she repeated -complacently.“But what was your -object in all' this? Why did you scheme to keep' me in ignorance? vrnat was your' purpose?” “Why?” Her voice deepened suddenly, the placid satisfaction with which she had narrated the carrying out of her plan disappear­ ing from it completely. “Why? I did it to punish you—first for stealing my Nesta from me and then because after you had stolen her, you brought nothing to her but misery and heart-break. She was so young —so young! And you, with your hideous temper and your cold, for­ mal English ways—you broke her heart, cowed her, crushed her!” “She was old enough to coquette with every man she met,” came grimly between Tormarin’s teeth “N-o husband—English or Italian, least of all Italian—would have en­ dured her conduct.” “She would not have played with other men if you had loved her. She was all fire. And you—you were like a wet l-og that will not burn!” She gestured fiercely. “You never loved her! It was a moment of pas­ sion—of desire that you married her! . . . But you were sure, even-, tually. to meet some other woman and learn what love—real love—is., So I waited. And when I saw you at Montavan with Jean—I knewj that the day I had waited for so- long w-ould come at last, that your punishment was my hand.” “Do you curiously you mean concealed the fact mat lived so that-----” “So that you should the woman that you loved when the) time- came! Yes, I planned it all! j I kept Nesta safely hidden at Varig­ ny, and I made little changes in her appearance—a woman can, you know”-—mockingly—“the colour of her haid, the wdy of dressing it. Oh, just little changes, so that if by chance she was seen in the street by anyone who had known her as your wife she would not easily be recognized. Oh’!—once more With that exasperating qomplacence at her own skill in deception—“I thought of every little detail.” Tormarin stood listening to her silently, like a man in a trance. His face had grown drawn and haggard and his eyes burned in their sockets. Onc<\ as she poured out ner story of trickery and deception, she heard him mutter dazedly: “Jean . . Jean,” and the anguish in his voice might have moved any woman tc pity save only one who was utterly and entirely obsessed with the de­ sire for vengeance. But the intolerable suffering that had lined his face and rimmed his mouth with tiny beads of sweat was meat and drink to her. She glor­ ied in it. triumph after waiting. She smiled “I think I well,” she pursued, waited until you were actually ried. But I have no wish to punish the little Jean. She, at least, is ’on the square,’ as you say—though it would have revenged my Nesta well had i waited. You rufned Nosta’s life; I could have ruined the life of the woman you love. I did think of it. Ah! You would have suffer­ ed then, knowing that the Jean worshipped was neither wife maid, but a-—-—” “Be silent, woman!” Tortured beyond bearing, this I al taunt, levelled at the woman heI held more dear than anything in life . snapped his last tread of self-on- there, telling me of her you and begging me to So I went to Italy and back with me to Varig- planned that you should dead. It was all very mean’’—Blaise measured that you himself forward and J hands were gripping, gripping at . ivory throat from which j taunt had sprung. The woman j writhe, struggling to pull his hands ! from her neck. But it meant noth­ ing to him. He did not think of i her apy longer as a woman. She I was something vile—leprous to the! • very core of her being—a thing tc , be destroyed. The thing which had made of all Jean’s promised happi-| I ness a black and bitter mockery. . ! The mad Tormarin rage surged through his veins like a consuming fire. He would break her—break her and utterly destroy her just as one destroyed a deadly snake. j And then across the thunderous'—ihere? roar that beat in liis ears came the beloved voice, the voice that could have power to call him out of the' depths of hell itself—Jean’s voice. “Blaise! Blaise! What are doing? . . . Stop!” his the the you ’ CHAPTER XXXII The Dividing; SW-crd I knew ready to spoke in accents—“do deliberately Nesta still This was her hour the long years at him blandly, have behaved “I might I ■ few minutes this nightmarish story | of a Nesta • her rights be proved a Tormarin opened the door. “Now, Madame de Varigny—will you come with me?” The woman hesitated a moment. “Come,” insisted Blaise firmly. “Od—are you afraid, after all, to bring me face to face with my wife? She shook her head. ■ “No,” she said. “I am not afraid, j It is only that I am so sorry—so ■ sorry for the little Jean.” | Her eyes, soft and dark and liq- j uid as the eyes of a deer, sought i Jean’s beseechingly. “I am so sorry,” she repeated. And passed, Ylowly—almost unwill­ ing, it seemed, out of the room, fol­ lowed by Tormarin. , Jean raised her head from Blaise’s shoulder and pushed back her hair, damp with prespiration, from her forehead. It seemed, to her as though she had ben down, down into some awful, limitless abyss of dark­ ness from which she was now feebly struggling back to a painful con­ sciousness of material things. A great sea had -surged over her head, blotting out everything, and remain- a huge arch, Imprisoning her in the deserted chaos in which she herself wandering. Then;—af- long time, it seemed—it had away again ano sne could dis- ‘ bent ;------ Still alive and claiming as Blaise’s wife would lie. crossed the room and hour- strokes, foolish The hands had pointed t-o Qtye Exeter ©unea-Aftnnratp Established 1873 and 1887 Published every Thursday morning at Exeter, Ontario a tempest of uncontrollable anger. I “Jean.” he said very gently and pitifully. “I’m afraid that what Madame de Varigny says may be >rue. I have no proof that it is not------” “Nor have you any proof that it is,” broke in Jean swiftly. She swung round on Madame de Varigny “Where is your proof—where is your proof?” The Italian smiled. “Monsieur will find his wife in my car. I bade the chauffeur wait with it at the lodge gate.” “Do you mean you have brought ed poised above her like i Nesta—here?” cried Blaise. * black “"Why not?” replied Madame de; vast, Varigny, with a return to the same; found exasperating complacency with' ter a which she had originally described' suryd .. __ __ j her whole scheme of revenge. “And ‘ tinguish Blaise’s face “Then- si upidly. even to i sound, Blaise I brought her with held her SUBSCRIPTION—?2.00 per yeai in advance. gay shout -of laughtex eume up from the out on the lake. The clock on the chimney-piece struck the twelve, slow, maddening Jean stared at its blank, face, half-past eleven when the door of the room had closed behind Blaise had to smash up her whole worldj—'t-o reb her -of everything that mattered. “I must think—I must think,’ she muttered. 1 “Belovedest”—Blaise’s voice was wonderfully tender—not with the passionate tenderness of a lover but with a solicitude that was almost maternal. “Belovedest, dont try to think now. Try to rest a little j won’t you?” I And at that Jean came right back to an understanding of all that had happened, as the needle of a c-c-m- pass swings back to the frozen north. “Rest?” se said, “Rest? Do you realize that I shall have all the re­ mainder of life to—rest in? There’ll be nothing else to do.” She released herself very gently from Tormarin’s arms and crossing the room to the window, stood look­ ing out. “How,funny!” she said in a rather high-pitched, uncertain v-oice. “It all looks just the same—although everything in the world is changed.” He came and “No.” he said Changed, dear. above! same as it was an ember that.” “But we can’t ever marry now.” “No. We can’t niarry now. You’ll never have the Tormarin temper to bear with, after all!” She laid her hand swiftly across and Madame de Varigny. It taken just a brief half-hour RATES—Farm or Real Estate to> sale 50c. each insertion for f»m four insertions. 25c. each sub«e* quent insertion, Miscellaneous ar­ ticles, To Rent, Wanted, Lost, or Found 10c. per line of six word* Reading notices Card of Thanks vertising 12 and Memoriam, with • extra verses 25c. Member of The Canadian Weekly Newspaper Association 10c. per line 50c. Legal ad* 8c. per line. In one verse 50c. each. Professional Cards GLADMAN & STANBURY stood beside her. * quietly. “Nothing is Our love is the before. Always re- BARRISTERS, SOLICITORS, Money to Loan, Investments Made Insurance Safe-deposit Vault for use of our Clients without charge EXETER LONDON HENSALL CARLING & MORLEY BARRISTERS, SOLICITORS, &c LOANS, INVESTMENTS INSURANCE Office: Carling Block, Main Street, ‘ EXETER, ONT. At Lucan Monday and Thursday ■Surely her husband’s J home is the proper place in which to take his wife?” “She cannot remain here,” said Blaise with decision. “No? For the moment that was! not my idea. I __l._. „1L, ...._ .... „ ___ ____ _____ ____ me because I thought there could be She supposed he hadn’t heard that | no more- convincing " “ ................................ Blaise looked at her He fancied he detected in her voluble speech, idea presented itself to the woman simply putting up a gi-; gantic bluff? Or was it really Nes­ ta, his wife, waiting in .the car at te lodge gates? It occurred to him as perfectly feasible that it might be merely some woman whose re­ markable reseimblanee to the dead girl had suggested to the Countess’s fertile brain the scheme that she should impersonate her. His mind seized eagerly upon the idea, bolstering it up with Madame de Varigny’s own admissions. “I made little changes In her appear­ ance,” she Had said. “The colour of her hair, the way of dressing it.” Probably she was relying on those “little changes” and on the blurred recollection resulting rrom the length of time which had elapsed since Nesta’s death, to aid her in het plan of introducing as his wife a woman who closely resembled her. j He felt morally sure of it, and the light of hope suddenly shone brave­ ly. “I believe you are deceiving me,’ he said quietly “Lying—as you have lied all through the p>ece. I’ll come and see this ‘wife’ you have waiting in the car for me”—grimly. He turned to Jean. “Keep up your courage, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice full <of infinite solicitude, j “I believe the whole thing is a put- ) up job to separate us.” j Jean smiled at him radiantly. She felt all at once very confident. In a —then it’s true?’’ she said Her voice sounded tiny, herself.—a mere thread of made no answer. ' He only a litle closer in his arms, -his lips. “Oh, it was dreadful!” she said. She must try ' recalling the terrible scene which j she had interrupted. "It—it hardly - ■ seemed—you, Blaise.” I little thread of voict.. I again. proof.’’ I searchingly.! a false note and a him. Dr. G. S. Atkinson, L.D.S.,D.D.S. DENTAL SURGEON opposite the New Post Office Main St... Exeter Telephones 3-1 w House 84J every Wednesday (all day) until further notice. “Is it true, Blaise? 'Is Nesta— But somehow the last words would. not come. | Bhe felt his arm jerk against her side. “Yes,” he said baldly. “It’s true. Nesta is alive. I’ve seen her.” Jean said nothing. She knew it— had known it all the time the arch­ ed wall of sea had kept her down in, that awful black waste where there had been neither warmth nor sun­ shine but only bitter, freezing cold and lightless space. She clung a little closer to Blaise, like a fright­ ened, exhausted child. “Heart’s beloved , . litle dear­ est Jean ...” -She heard .the wrung murmur of his voice above her head. Then suddenly, his arms tightening round her :“My soul!” The sunlight still slanted in thro’ the windows, mellow anG golden. A Slowly, reluctantly, Tormarin’s hands loosened their clasp of Ma­ dame de Varigny’s throat, and with a swift, flexible twist of the body she slipped aside and stood a few paces away from him. Jean looked from one to the other with horrified eyes. “Madame de Varigny?—Blaise?” she stammered. “What is it? . . Why, you—you might have killed her, Blaise!” He stared at her blankly. His re­ lease of the Italian woman had been in mere blind response to Jean’s first should desist, governable rage cleared from his still drummed in roar of the sea. “Blaise”—Jean ly. “What were me------” With an effort cover himself. “It’s a pity you ish it, Jean,” he said harshly. “Such women are better dead.” Madame de Varigny was fingering her neck delicately where the pres­ sure of Blaise’s grip had scored red marks on the cream-like flesh. She seemed quite composed. Her smile ' still held its quiet triumph and her long dark eyes gleamed with the ! same mockery that had brought her' within measurable distance of quick! death. | “As Monsieur Tor-ma-rm seems bo find it hard to explain'—permit me,’ she said at last. “He was angry with me because I bring him the good news that his wife is still alive and that he need mourn no longer.” While she spoke Her eyes,, rest- I mg on Blaise’s mask-like face, held an expression -of malicious satisfac­ tion. “His wife . . . alive?’) repeated Jean dazedly. “Blaise, is she mad? Nesta has been dead years—years.” Then, as he made no answer, she continued rapidly, a faint note of fear vibrating in her voice: “Isn’t it so? Blaise—speak! Quickly, tell her—Nesta has been dead some years!” “He cannot tell me anything about her which I do not know already, Mees Peterson, seeing that she is my sister and has been living with me ever since her husband’s cruelty drove her home his home.” “Is it true, Blaise?” whispered Jean. Belief that some substance of ter­ rible truth lay behind the Italian’s coolly uttered statements was begin­ ning to lay hold of her. “Blaise, Blaise”—her voice ris­ ing a little—“say it isn’t true—tell her it isn’t true.” He looked at her speechlessly, but the measureless pain in his eyes answered her fully, more convinc­ ingly than any words. “You see?” br-oke in Madame de Varigny triumphantly. “He cannot deny it!, It was I who told him of her death and I who now tell him she still lives. Listen to me made­ moiselle, and I will tell you how—” “N-o!” interrupted Jean proudly. “Whatever there may be for jne to hear, I will hear it from Blaise— not from you.” » % \ She turned again to 'Tormarin. “Tell me everything, Blaise,” she said simply, He took her outstretched hands and drew her slowly towards him. No one, reading the calm sadness the stern imprint of endurance in his face, coiid have imagined it was that ■of the same man who, a few mom* ents earlier, had been swept by such mere imperative appeal that But the mists of had hardly brain; the blood his ears like the il e un- yet spoke imploring- you doing? Tell he seemed to re- didn’t let me fin- of of very have m ar­ you nor ffn- new Was (To be continued) Underwear “I’m a draftsman.’’ “I’m a draftsman, also.’’ He: Him: Interloper: “Oh, I see! A pair ot drawers.’’ INSURANCE LIFE, ACCIDENT & HEALTH When Studying your future Life, Income or Pension program, consult ELMO RICHARDS o Representing METROPOLITAN LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY EXETER, BOX 277 Half the Ills of Life Are Caused By Constipation Constipation is one of the most frequent ills of mankind, and one that is only too often allowed to go unlooked after until some serious complication sets in. 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Mr. Beatty made a complete inspection of the Scouts’ Mont­ real promises and evinced lively interest in the toy shop where hundreds o'f old and damaged* toys were being put into s^ane and renovated for distribution among the poor and destitute children at Christmas. Photo­ graph shows him among theboyS at work in tho shop. ARTHUR WEBER LICENSED AUCTIONEER For Huron and Middlesex FARM SALES A SPECIALTY PRICES REASONABLE SATISFACTION GUARANTEED Phone 57-13 Dashwood R. R. NO. 1, DASHWOOD FRANK TAYLOR LICENSED AUCTIONEER For Huron and Middlesex FARM SALES A SPECIALTY Prices Reasonable and SatisfaetlCMr Guaranteed EXETER P. O. or RING 138 OSCAR KLOPP LICENSED AUCTIONEER Honor Graduate Carey Jones’ Auc­ tion School. Special Course taken in Registered Live Stock (all breeds) Merchandise, Real Estate, Farm Sales, Etc. Rates in1 keeping with prevailing prices. Satisfaction as­ sured, write Oscar Klopp, Zurich, or phone 18-93, Zurich, Ont. USBORNE & HIBBERT MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY Head Office, Farquhar, Ont. President FRANK McCONNELL Vice-Pres. ANGUS- SINCLAIR DIRECTORS J. T. ALLISON, SAM’L NORRIS SIMON DOW, WM. H. COATES. AGENTS JOHN ESSERY, Centralia, Agent for Usborne and Biddulph ALVIN L. HARRIS, Munro, Agent for Fullarton and Logan THQMAS SCOTT, Cromarty, Agent for Hibbert W. A. TURNBULL Secretary-Treasurer Box 295, Exeter, Ontario GLADMAN & STANBURY Solicitors, Exeter I